#- it is hard for me to let others get close for fear of rejection. undeniably i use people. they'll hate the real me

[girlboyburger]

some rare not-furry art, featuring my baldur's gate / dnd weirdgirl, prim :]

i'm looking forwards to developing & drawing her a lil more as i progress through the game!

[adorerdraco]

Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !

Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes 

Words: 1.8K

A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him. 

Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.

Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk. 

A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.

All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?” 

Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents. 

As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”

You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.

“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”

You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.

“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”

“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”

You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.

“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”

His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.

Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.

That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.

“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.

“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”

By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.

“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.

“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.

“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.

Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.

“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.

[teklarn]

hi, this is my first ever ask so I'm not sure I'm doing this correctly, if that's the case I'm sorry; I don't know how tumblr works just yet >:')

would it be possible for you to write something about bakugo, pining incredibly hard for fem!reader and initially hating how strongly he feels about her? because they're not even friends, they only exchange few words occasionally and she doesn't even glance at his way whereas he slowly finds himself unable to divert his eyes from her during classes? shes always with damn deku and his friends and doesn't even seem interested in him at all but his heart can't ignore the way she looks at him proudly whenever they spar together, the way she sends him small confident smiles as they fight each other with all they have; so he thinks that maybe, maybe he might have a chance. basically bakugo liking reader so much he's completely lost in self-hatred because he always thought feelings were for weak romantics and not great people like him, but everytime he sees reader doing some badass things (again, like sparring with him and basically matching his skills etc...) he's reminded of how badly he likes reader? but when he finally accepts he's fallen for reader, after ignoring and trying to forget about how she makes him feel, he masters up the courage to confess? and it's a very clumsy confession because he's awkward and has no idea how to deal with those feelings? and he tries so hard to make reader realise he's never been more serious than now? and reader is startled and speechless before rejecting him? and at that point he's just completely humiliated, so he nods and walks away.

it might be a little dramatic but I've always been into unrequited love and one-sided pining. thank you, its okay if you don't want to write about this, i'll understand <33

𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓽𝓪𝓵 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katsuki bakugou x fem!reader (my hero academia) 

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 

a/n: AHHHHH this is so cute <33 honestly this is super exciting for me and this ask made me so happy, lovey. i’m fairly new to tumblr, i’m usually just a reader but i wanted to migrate here from wattpad so this made me so happy. here u are my love <33 i hope this lives up to what u wanted !! :)) a bit lengthy, but i had a lot of fun writing it !!! 

summary: bakugou finds he’s rejecting his feelings for you in fear of becoming weak, however he just can’t seem to ignore you. 

genre: fluffy, fluffier than the clouds istg, however the clouds are sprinking a little teeny weeny droplet of angst. 

warnings: cursing (bakugou, duhh), one-sided pining (on bakugou’s part) second hand embarrassment (on bakugou’s part bc we can all agree he’s a complete idiot when it comes to trying to get someone’s attention), just bakugou being a jackass, i gave the reader a quirk 

word count: 3,859 

(pls excuse any typos or mistakes, i edited to the best of my ability but i miss some things sometimes !) 

- - - 

part 2 is here my loves <3

brutal. it was utterly ruthless. he couldn’t focus, couldn’t think right. his hands were already exceptionally sweaty, but gosh when he saw your damn face, he was ready to explode. literally. 

what the hell was it about you? was it your stupid smile? or the way you just seemed to carry every battle on your back? was it all the undeniably sweet things you do for others ‘just because’? 

it made him angry that he thought about you, but gosh he couldn’t wait to see you every day. 

just like any other day, bakugou found himself staring at the large door to the classroom, awaiting the moment you would bounce into his day, skirt shifting around your legs, bag slung loosely around your shoulders. 

his leg was bouncing eagerly. 

bakugou didn’t know when the feelings came. his cheeks just started flaring up all of a sudden and one day you just looked...different. you hadn’t done anything different to yourself. it was just him. not that he would ever admit that, to you or anybody else. 

you were insufferable. you were stupid and obnoxious and so...so damn... 

“y/n! come look at this!” 

you’d come walking into class just as expected, and as soon as you did, that stupid nerd had called you over. 

it didn’t help that deku sat right behind him, either. the two of you had recently gotten closer. bakugou noticed it last month when he yelled at the two of you to shut up about all might and get to work. he’d turned around to find you leaning over deku, hands resting on his shoulders while you peered at his phone. 

“sorry, bakugou,” you’d said, barely acknowledging him. you had waved him off like an annoying fly. is that all you were to him? some nuisance that got in the way of your oh-so-entertaining conversations with deku? 

all he heard nearly every day was your chipper voice talking to deku. always, “oh my gosh, midoriya, did you see the fight edgeshot was in last night?” or “midoriya! i have something to add to our quirk analysis book!” 

that was the one that took the cake. you two dorks shared a notebook, occasionally passed between one another, and filled it with junk about quirks and pro heroes. but no matter how much he tried to tune you out, no matter how he tried to zone off and think about something else, you were always there. it made him want to vomit how much he thought about you. 

you were doing an adorable shuffle over to midoriya’s desk and leaned over the table as you usually did while he angled his phone your way. “did you see this hero report?” 

deku let you slip the phone out of his grasp to get a better look. 

“no,” you breathed. “was this just recent?” 

“yeah,” deku said, taking the phone back. “last night.” 

“holy—” 

“can you guys shut up over there?” bakugou said, his voice quaking. 

“sorry, kacchan.” deku scrolled through the article. 

dammit, bakugou thought. “i wasn’t talking to you, nerd. i was talking to shitface over here.” he jerked his head towards you. his eyes flared in anger when he saw you were looking down at your phone, now focused in on the article yourself. “i was talking to you, asshat!” 

your eyes flicked up to his. you looked around for a moment before slowly pointing to yourself as if to say, “me?” 

his face scrunched. “yeah, you. you’re so damn loud.” gosh, he hated how his voice was cracking, how he could feel his ears and cheeks lighting up in a swollen, cherry red. his stomach flipped. 

she’s looking at you, gosh i’m sweating. i’m going to throw up. she’s so gorgeous. what the hell? they’re ugly as shit, i don’t think anything of them. 

his eyes bore into yours. 

“did you...need something?” 

your voice broke his trance. 

“kacchan, are you okay? you dozed off there for a second. you look like you’re burning up.” 

bakugou looked to deku who was currently stretching out of his seat, arm extended. he pressed the back of his hand to bakugou’s forehead. “you’re really warm, kacchan. should we call recovery girl?” 

it took him a moment to realize what was happening. his vision got blurry every time he was with you. bakugou smacked deku’s hand away. “i’m fine!” his voice lifted at the end, cracking. “i’m not sick. don’t you think i’d take better care of myself?” 

“i don’t doubt you take good care of yourself, kacchan, but everyone gets sick once in a while. there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

“i never get sick!” besides, if i got sick, i wouldn’t want you to be the one taking care of me. 

he was still pissed. he was always in a bad mood, however, more so right now because you’d gone straight back to your phone and that stupid hero article that was supposedly so damn interesting. 

soon enough, the bell rang, and you were seated at your desk. it was jirou’s old spot, however, after much convincing, you two had switched spots so you could be closer to deku. just a few months of getting close to the idiot and you two are suddenly best friends. jirou hadn’t minded one tiny bit, claiming she needed a break from how loud that section of the room was. 

late as always, aizawa came trudging into your room. thankfully, his entire body wasn’t obscured by a yellow sleeping bag that smelled of something unwashed and coffee and gasoline. (for some reason, aizawa’s clothes always smelled of it.) 

“lucky for you,” he began while shuffling papers on his desk, “all of you are doing training for these first periods.”

the class cheered in perfect unison, followed by their individual chatter. you had erupted with glee along with them, and bakugou was sure he felt his heart clench and then explode. just a tiny bit. but he shoved the feeling down just as quickly as it had come up. 

“go out to the field and wait for further instructions. don’t make a sound in the halls otherwise, i’ll expel all of you.” 

this shut everyone up in almost a second, the sound draining out just as water does. the first years trailed out into the hall, single-file mimicking the positions baby ducklings would take when following their mother. 

bakugou found himself walking faster when he saw you take up your spot in the line, hoping to land his spot right behind you. 

unfortunately, this idiot who considered himself bakugou’s friend tugged him back. “bakugou!” a familiar voice rasped. 

“shitty hair, let go of me.” 

“hey man, chill out. wanna partner up if we’re doing training in pairs?” 

bakugou glanced at the line, the spot that should have been reserved for him now taken up by sato. 

bakugou tugged his sleeve from kirishima’s hand. “whatever,” he snapped. 

“sounds good!” kirishima flashed him a toothy grin and a thumbs-up. the bubbly feeling in bakugou’s chest died down as he stood behind sato, the overwhelming scent of sugar filling his nose, various candies that would go straight to your arteries. 

“you smell like ass, damn,” bakugou remarked, squeezing his nostrils together. 

luckily, sato was tall enough to not hear the insult, as he towered over bakugou by just another head. the line began moving like a sloppy train down to the change rooms. 

bakugou scoffed as he listened to your giggle. he should be making you laugh. 

- 

“you’ll be given partners randomly from this box.” aizawa held up a familiar red box. “inside are all your names. i’ll select one, then that person will come up and pick another name from the box. that will be your assigned partner for today. as soon as you have your assigned partner, i want you guys to get straight to work.” 

denki raised a hand, speaking before being called on. “sensei, why are we getting random partners? we’re always allowed to choose.” 

“in the real world, you’re going to come across different villains every day. you’ll never improve your skills or your quirks if you keep fighting the same person.” 

denki sighed, slumping back. 

dammit, bakugou thought, gritting his teeth together. there wasn’t any way he wanted to be partners with you. it’s obvious he’d win the fight in the first few seconds. 

yes! exactly right! bakugou internally grinned. his fluctuating feelings had finally soothed themselves. you were just another extra, and he had no room for you in his head. 

aizawa took a moment to fiddle with the slips of paper inside the box. soon enough, he pulled out a name. “todoroki.” 

todoroki walked up, digging his hand into the box when aizawa held it out for him. he pulled out a name, delicately unraveling the slip. “uraraka, you’re my partner.” he deadpanned. 

the brunette grinned. “great!” 

the two found their own spot on the field, and the class’s attention was once again diverted to their grouchy teacher as he pulled out another name. 

“bakugou.” 

bakugou strutted up without a worry in his mind. he pulled a name to find... 

“y/n,” he said, voice a low growl. instead of the annoying fluttering in his chest, his eyes met yours, and they were filled with a different, new ferocity. he crumpled the paper in one hand, letting it twirl to the ground. 

you looked at him, unsmiling. your eyes gave away nothing, and to bakugou’s knowledge, all you saw in him was another opponent. 

it took him a moment to realize you had both locked eyes for about a minute. perhaps the two of you would have stayed as you were if aizawa hadn’t snapped at the two of you to get moving as yaomomo’s name was called. 

bakugou was on his way to the back of the field, you followed close behind. while there was plenty of room still, he chose a secluded area. while it was still open enough to view everything going on so nobody got hurt, it was often nobody chose to train here. for whatever reason, you weren’t sure. 

“wait up, bakugou,” you said. after a bit, you caught up to him. 

“if you can’t keep up, then...” then what? he looked at you from the side of his eye. “then don’t keep up...” gosh, here came the embarrassing, disgusting feeling of redness in his cheeks. 

you laughed. “what?” 

“shut up.” 

“you’re an idiot, bakugou.” 

“i said shut the hell up!”

“what, so you can call me shitface in front of the entire class but you get all pissed when i call you an idiot?” 

so you had heard him! 

he tongued his cheek, curling his hands around an invisible ball, explosions sparking in the centers of his palms. “don’t expect me to hold back, dumbass.” 

“i wouldn’t dream of it.” 

gosh he loved that about you. 

bakugou caught his thought in the air. 

ahem...gosh he hated that about you. 

you both charged in at the same time. his cry was louder than yours, but you struck first. 

he admired your quirk. while he’d overhead you explaining all the drawbacks it had, it was strong, and you were strong because you knew how to control it. 

purple arrows flew from your arms, going in your desired directions. if you lost focus for one moment, they’d vanish and weaken. if you focused too hard or long, you’d be plagued by a splitting headache. 

he’d spent too much time obsessing over your strengths and weaknesses.  

your arrows were weightless, however they were solid objects capable of carrying any mass, any thing, and worked as extensions of your body. 

the violet arrow had shot out at him, twisting around his right gauntlet and crushing inwards. it’d snaked around him without him noticing, slithering along his back. 

bakugou struggled to get the air-light arrow off his wrist, but it was no use. he glared back, only to see your focused, furrowed brows. he’d expected to see your cocky ass smiling. it was nice to see you weren’t. 

that was one thing that had also caught his eye. you never underestimate your opponent, but you never underestimate yourself, either. 

you conjured a larger arrow. it snaked around your right arm as you hurled bakugou into the air, releasing your grasp on him. you shot your other arrow into the air, and it raced into the sky. 

it swerved. bakugou’s eyes went wide as the tip of the arrow came down on his chest. if they weren’t intangible things, he would have been bleeding out. 

another drawback: the arrows, while they could solidify, they couldn’t do any actual damage. you had to use your surroundings to inflict harm on your opponent. 

he coughed out as the arrow shot him into the ground. he hadn’t even touched you, and here he was, vulnerable and so...so... 

you stood over him, hands on your hips. 

vulnerable and so lost in that adorable, winning smile. 

“get away from me, idiot,” he grunted and turned onto his side, his back crying out in pain. 

“i think i won this fight, bakugou,” you chirped, rocking on your heels. 

“don’t get arrogant, shithead. you won’t be winning against me anymore.” 

you grinned, arrows shooting out behind your back. 

- 

the dorms were exceptionally quiet. you were typing away in the common room, bakugou on the couch reading. everyone was off doing something else. it was the weekend, luckily. he’d expected you to go bounding out with everyone else, however you’d stayed back, claiming you had some homework to catch up on. 

bakugou being classic bakugou had stayed back. he was excited to have the dorm to himself, but your dumbass was stuck here with him. couldn’t you have done your typing in your room? 

you were so aggressive on that poor keyboard. 

“oi, quiet down with your shit typing.” 

you barely grunted in response. 

“don’t ignore me.” 

“i heard you, mom.” 

“the hell did you call me?” 

no response. only your aggressive typing is a bit less aggressive. 

“i can still hear it,” bakugou remarked, eyes fixed on your back. 

“‘kay,” you said. your typing slowed a tad, and your pressure on the keys lessened. 

it was quiet now. bakugou should go back to his book. he shouldn’t still be looking for a reason to talk to you. 

the pages crinkled in his fingers. he bit his tongue, keeping his snarky comments in. 

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? doing your damn homework. it’s due tomorrow.” 

you turned, pursing your lips. “and how would you know what i’m working on? are you stalking me?” 

“i- what? no. you’re such an idiot, of course i’m not—” 

“i’m messing with you,” you breathed, face un-moving. 

“o-oh,” bakugou stuttered out. he blinked awkwardly. 

“gosh, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?” 

“you’re annoying.” 

“you’re a jackass.” you returned to your work. bakugou settled with reading in his room. reading consisted of jumping onto his bed just as the stereotypical high school girl would in an eighties movie. he buried his face in his pillow, face burning bright red. he cursed you for making him feel this way, and hated himself even more for how much he enjoyed it. 

- 

the next day came swiftly. you’d left early to go train with midoriya. there were many improvements needed to be made, but you weren’t doing too bad.

you propelled yourself forwards with an arrow, and your green-haired friend shot back, lightning flickering around his body. 

landing back on the ground, you panted and swiped the sweat from your brow. from the corner of your eye, you could make out both kirishima and bakugou coming to the training grounds. 

bakugou stopped in his tracks, frowning at the sight of you. 

it was evident he hated you a bit more than everyone else. he was always making his annoying comments, he was always snubbing you. you saw no reason to talk to him, so you didn’t. either way, even if you tried, he would still get angry for no reason. 

it’d taken you quite some time to get used to his obnoxious attitude. tuning him out had been the best course of action, in your opinion. 

the way you and midoriya had bonded was through bakugou, in a way. the first day of school, bakugou had snapped at you for tripping over your laces and nearly crashing into him. later that day, midoriya had stepped up and apologized for his old friend’s actions. 

you two had never been too close until now. the recent incidents going on with the league of villains had snagged your attention, and it seemed you were the only person who didn’t mind listening to him ramble on about heroes. 

you were just as passionate and just as dorky, but midoriya could talk your ear off. you never minded, and he always took the hint when you didn’t want to listen. 

you brought your leg up, twirling in the air with ease and watched your heel collide with midoriya’s face. he grunted, stumbling back. 

you were about to charge in again when a hand landed on your shoulder, big and rough. you turned to see bakugou standing behind you, a scowl on his face. 

“fight me again,” he demanded. 

“excuse me?” 

“don’t act like you didn’t hear me.” 

“i’m in the middle of fighting midoriya right now.” 

“so?”

“so if you think that i’m just going to ditch my friend because you want to fight, i won’t.” 

“you’re being stubborn.” 

“i’m being reasonable. back off.” 

“y/n?” midoriya rubbed his jaw—right where you had struck him. “what’s going on?” he jogged up to you and bakugou. 

“he wants to fight me in the middle of our fight. it’s nothing serious. don’t worry about it, midoriya. let’s just ignore him.” 

bakugou made a sound someone would only make if they were choking. “the hell did you just say?” 

“we’re ignoring you!” you waved him off and placed your hand on midoriya’s shoulder, wandering away. 

-

it was new to him, not getting what he wanted. and what he wanted right now was to be around you. again, it wasn’t like he would ever admit that to himself. 

“dude? you good? i thought you went off to fight y/n. i was so ready to cheer you on, dude,” kirishima’s chipper voice piped in. “she’s not fighting with you? why not?” 

“the dumbass was just probably scared of getting her ass beat by me.” 

“dude...that sounds really weird.” 

“whatever, shitty hair. let’s go.” 

- 

the clock ticked. his ears were on fire. again. 

gosh, it was happening again. it was all you. his face scrunched up, his voice would surely crack if someone were to ask him what was wrong. 

bakugou was once again stuffing his face in his pillow, hiding his expression from no one. why did you have to go train with that shitty nerd? why were you always around deku? deku, of all people. what did he have? why was he so great? 

bakugou was a man of many insecurities, but losing to deku? that was possibly his biggest fear. 

perhaps he wasn’t the nicest, or the most soft person out there. bakugou could admit that, at least. but he was smarter than deku. he was stronger and he was better and people liked him more. right? 

what was so...amazing about deku? 

it was often bakugou would find himself obsessing over little, insignificant things such as these. 

you were what he was thinking of most of the time. just yesterday, he’d gotten a test returned. he was expecting an eighty at the lowest, but more so expecting a high ninety. it’d come back exactly sixty percent. 

sixty. percent.

bakugou vividly remembered staring at your face. he also remembered not being able to focus because of it. his grades were dropping because of you. 

you were the only person to be able to do this to him. 

his heart grew quiet, but the pounding of his didn’t cease. he lifted his head. 

“alright, fine,” he said aloud. “you win, y/n. you win.” 

he settled with getting over his feelings the way he’d read them in his collection of romance manga. 

bakugou left his room and knocked on your door. (he was banging on it, but it was his nice way of knocking.) 

you answered, looking around awkwardly. “yes?” 

his hands shook. how was this supposed to go? sure, he’d seen it in romance movies and read it in books but it was always easy to tell whether the guy would get the girl or not. 

in this instance, bakugou was clueless. for once in his life, he was clueless. you stood, tapping your foot with a hand on your hip, waiting expectantly for him to tell you why he was here. 

“um.” he scratched behind his neck. “you uh- i uh...i’m sorry i called you a, um...a shitface.” 

“okay? is that it?” 

what? come on! it was already unlike him to apologize. what else did you want from him? 

“did you...i’ve been thinking, maybe? maybe we could..train together as...friends?”  

“...what?” 

gosh dammit, as friends? 

“whatever, um...the uh...” oh gosh, what did the boys do in all the books he’d read? right! bakugou stretched out his arm, resting his forearm on the door, leaning to the side. 

although he didn’t, really, because like the clumsy jackass he was, bakugou missed completely and nearly toppled to the floor. 

this earned a snicker from you. 

his stomach flipped and churned, and bakugou found himself unable to reach your eyes. “uh, would you maybe..? okay, um. do you want to go on a date with me? you absolute fucking dumbass.” 

your eyes flew wide. “...what?” 

“no, that’s not what i— i mean i didn’t mean the last part. um, i meant the first part. the first two parts. the part where i was asking you if you wanted to go on a date with me and then before that when i said maybe because it’s still a maybe until you say yes. or...or no because that’s an option too.” 

he swallowed. 

you resisted the urge to mock him, just a little bit. “um, bakugou, listen.” 

he leaned closer. “yes?” 

“it’s going to be a no. i’m sorry, but i’m just not interested in you like that.” 

it took him a moment to register everything. his shoulders sagged. gosh that was brutal. 

“oh, alright.” 

“yeah, uh, sorry about that.” you offered him a weak smile, still a bit shocked yourself. he did his best to return it, and when you closed the door, his face was ready to explode. 

it was so damn difficult to deal with these feelings, but maybe it was better this way. knowing where you stood on your end, he knew he wouldn’t miss out on anything. 

perhaps it was alright to admire from afar. things could happen in the future, right? 

right now, he’d just wait. for a long, long time. bakugou pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. maybe it was alright to not have you right now. perhaps he could better himself for you. just for you. 

[captains-simp]

hiii can you please do a 1) Angst with Nat where shes the one saying 'please dont go' because she pushed u away out of fear of either unreciprocated feelings or fear of her feelings for u?? and then there's a happy ending???

"Please don't go."

Warnings: oral, fingering, thigh grinding, hints at overstimulation, rejection, violence and some majorrrr angst

6.8k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Natasha Romanoff was the thing of many people's nightmares. Cunning, stealthy, ruthless. Those were just a few of the things that came to mind when describing Natasha in the field. It was what had earned her the Black Widow name, and rightfully so.

But behind that front was someone very different. It took a long time to find that person. It was hard to gain the trust of an assassin, much less the friendship. You had gotten there eventually, what you found was entirely worth every second of the wait.

Natasha had been your closest friend for as long as you could remember. You trusted her above everyone else and knew the feeling was mutual. A lot of things were with you two.

You came to the same conclusions in missions, spare of the moment and planned. You knew the best ways to comfort one another. You could even read each other like your favourite book when it was impossible for others.

It seemed almost predictable that your feelings for Natasha had been growing for a long time.

She was fiercely protective of the ones she loved. The relationships she developed were ones she held close to her heart and would do anything for. She never said it because she didn't have to.

While not being one for comforting words, Natasha would appear at your side in an instant if she thought you had been hurt in a mission or even training. Everything from checking in on you genuinely from time to time to let you rant about whatever was going on in your head to memorising your order from every kind of take out place made you feel cared for more than she could ever understand.

Maybe that was why you had fallen inlove with her.

"You are single handedly the best partner I have ever had." Natasha sighed as she laid back on her bed with her eyes trained on you. Oh how you wished she meant that in a different context.

"Likewise." You grinned as you poured some more wine into your glass and took a tentative sip.

"You usually work on a team." Natasha pointed out. "You haven't had your fair share of God awful partners yet."

"I can still recognise a good partner." You reminded and glanced down at the glass resting on your crossed legs.

Saying Natasha was good was the understatement of the year. No matter what she seemed to think the redhead was the reason for your success on the mission. All you had done was follow her instructions and reenact everything you had trained.

"Still, that was one of the best missions I've ever been on."

"You make it sound like you enjoyed it." You teased.

"I love my job." Natasha smirked as she took her glass from the bedside table and swirled the liquid around.

"I bet you do, must be easy when you're one of the best." You complimented more easily with the help of the alcohol.

"I like a challenge every now and then." She said as she sat up and tucked her legs under her. She downed the contents of her glass in a second and went to pour some more. Your eyes widened slightly but you accepted when she held the bottle out for you and poured a little more than you would have, finishing the bottle.

"You can challenge yourself in safer ways you know." Even if Natasha was one of the most feared agents on the planet she was still human. You worried about her a lot and tried to voice your opinions on mission files to ensure she did things the safest ways. She was always more set on doing things the most efficient way.

"Like what?" She enquired.

"I don't know, get a hobby." You laughed, hardly joking. A hobby was something everyone on the team needed, there was hardly ever the time.

"A hobby." Nat repeated, playing around with the thought as she said it. "I don't think I have time for that." You hummed understandably. "Do you want one?" She asked as she watched you.

"I barely have time for socialising." You scoffed and sipped on the alcohol.

"You live with us." The redhead pointed out, clearly missing your point.

"For work. When was the last time we had a movie night?" You asked. Natasha thought back to try and pinpoint a date but you kept going. "All of the parties are basically part of the job. Our schedules are all off so we rarely eat dinner together. We never really hang out anymore." You reflected with a pang of sadness.

"We're hanging out now." Natasha pointed out.

"We are." You couldn't help the smile that crept onto your face.

"So let's make the most of it." She said as she reached under her bed to retrieve another bottle. You barely questioned why it was there.

She poured more of the drink into each of your glasses and you clinched them together. You took a sip of yours and Natasha watched you as she raised the glass to her lips then paused for a second.

Her eyes trailed to your lips as you licked them to wipe away the traces of the drink. Your cheeks heated up under her far from subtle gaze and a lazy smirk played across Natasha's lips in her signature way.

It wasn't uncommon for Nat to flirt and tease you, she did it with everyone after all, but that night it seemed like a genuine interest, you just didn't want to fool yourself into thinking that.

You stretched your legs out infront of you simply to do something with yourself as Natasha continued to watch you mirror her position. You were startled when you felt on of her hands grip your calf and pull you up the bed towards her.

She silently took your glass from your hands and placed her glass down on the table with yours.

"What are you doing?" You asked with a smile as you tried to ignore your rapidly beating heart from having her hand on your calf and having the strength to pull you with the one hand just a second ago.

"Making the most of our time together." Natasha said simply as her hand dropped back down to your leg. Her fingers lightly ghosted up your calf again as a small smirk continued to stay on her lips.

You gulped, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry as you watched Natasha's slender fingers wander in a seemingly innocent way.

As if your dumbfounded and blank expression wasn't enough for her, Natasha suddenly sat up more and slowly lifted her leg over yours as she gave you some of the most intense eye contact you had ever experienced and straddled your lap.

You searched her face for anything and all you got was a mischievous smirk; nothing past that, no implication as to what was really happening.

"Cat got your tongue?" She teased as she ran her hands down your bare arms making you visibly shiver.

"I..." You whispered, having no idea what to say in response. Natasha lowered her head to the side of your neck and breathed lightly against the exposed skin, curtsey of the loose bun she had done for you.

"Maybe I should try steal it back." Her lips grazed your sensitive skin as she spoke. All sense escaped you when her lips pressed ever so lightly against your neck.

Her hands moved to your waist to hold you as she planted soft kisses along your neck that started to become less light. Her teeth nipped at your skin making you yelp slightly in surprise. Natasha grinned against you as her hands moved round to your stomach and pushed you down flat on your back on the mattress.

Seeing her straddling your stomach above you with an illegally attractive smirk made something undeniable go straight to your core. You clenched your thighs together subconsciously, not realising how telling the gesture was to Natasha.

She slowly leant down and hovered her face inches above yours as her hands trailed up to your own and pinned them above your head. Your breath was shaky and you just knew your friend could tell from your close proximity.

A million things buzzed around your head. Until you caught sight of an especially bright spec of green in Natasha's eyes and found yourself haulting all your questions. That was when you pushed all of your worries and questions to the side to focus on what was infront of you. Or rather who was ontop of you.

You closed your eyes and lifted your head, finally reciprocating in the way you had wanted to a while. Her lips met yours in an instant and felt even softer against your own than you had ever imagined. Your lips moved in perfect sync that you found yourself getting lost in as well as the taste of Natasha that you thought might stay with you forever.

You gasped and parted your lips when she pinched your inner thigh unexpectedly and was quietened when Natasha's tongue met yours. She sucked on it for a brief moment and grinned into you when she felt you moan.

Her lips left yours and started to kiss across your jaw before you could protest then dipped down to your neck. You tilted your head back to give her further access as you held onto her back and tried to steady your breathing.

While one hand held your waist the other stroked along your bare thigh under your dress. You closed your eyes as you struggled to competly focus on any one of the movements. You especially failed when Nat placed one of her muscular thighs between yours, forcing them apart and pressing down on a sensitive area.

You gasped as you felt her apply pressure to your aching clit with her thigh and bucked your hips against her. She chuckled lowly into your ear and held down your thigh and waist with strength that only feuled your growing arousal.

"Tasha." You moaned when the redhead bit down on your neck. Simultaneously, her hand wandered further up your thigh to explore the wanton part between your legs. She sighed deeply into your neck when her fingers brushed against wet spot on your panties.

You whined lowly when she withdrew her fingers only to flip you onto your front and straddle your back. Her slim fingers held the zip on the back of your dress dress swiftly pulled it down along with the rest of your dress.

Her hands ran along your bare back and she unfastened your bra with ease, throwing it somewhere neither of you cared about. She brought her hands back to you and caressed the exposed skin on your sides and leant down flat against you as her hands cupped your breasts. She kissed your shoulder blades as she started to pinch your strained buds. As much as you enjoyed the way she handled you, you needed attention lower down and was becoming impatient, resorting to rocking yourself against the bed in search of something.

"You're a needy thing, aren't you?" She husked, noticing your actions in an instant.

You whimpered into the bed and was suddenly moved onto your back again and stared up at the redheaded beauty who was taking in the sight of your bare breasts.

"You've got me all worked up too, baby." She said as she pulled her own dress down and flung it across the room. Unlike you, she wasn't wearing a bra under her dress giving you the sight of her perfect set. Your own eyes lowered and your breath hitched at the sight of her bare pussy. For a moment you questioned if she had it all planned, but she was straddling your face before you could think about it anymore.

She certainly wasn't lying when she said she was worked up, she was soaked.

With a burst of confidence, you grabbed the back of her thighs and lowered herself onto your tongue that swiped through her folds. You hummed at the initial taste that enveloped your senses and sucked momentarily on her throbbing clit.

"Fuck." Natasha moaned as she pulled on some loose strands of your hair. You pushed your tongue into her awaiting cunt as far as you could go and retracted it to repeat the motion, all while your best friend grinded down on your face.

"Such a good mouth." She praised as you focused your tongue on her soaking channel.

You brought one of your hands up and rubbed Natasha's clit with your thumb as your tongue started to increase it's pace. The redhead's inner walls started to clamp down on your muscle and you took this with a new vigor.

It didn't take long for her thighs to tighten around your head and for Natasha to ride out her orgasm in desperation as you eagerly lapped up all of her cum until she got off you.

"Suck." She instructed only slightly breathlessly as she held her fingers infront of your mouth. You opened in an instant and licked up the length of her fingers before taking them in your mouth as you kept your eyes trained on Natasha.

"Good girl." She praised with a smirk when she withdrew her fingers. She straddled one of your thighs as her fingers danced down to where you needed them the most.

Her fingers slipped inside your pussy with ease. They slowly edged further until they curled against your sweet spot that made your head drop back against the bed. Natasha repeated the come here motion everytime her fingers returned but her pace remained slow and teasing.

You whined in protest but was shushed by the redhead when she pressed herself into your thigh. You gasped as you felt her slick along your thigh and the small rotations of her hips to grind herself against you.

As the pace of her hips increased so did her fingers that were returning to you at twice the pace. You moaned together as everytime Natasha's fingers hit your special spot she angled herself to brush her clit up against your muscle.

The Russian started to dig herself deeper against you and her movements became much more frantic. Her fingers became rougher and faster, never failing to make your head spin when she angled them perfectly.

"Fuck, Nat!" You moaned as your bucked your hips up against her hand.

Her movements became less coordinated as she chased her release and consequently managed to extend her fingers deeper within you making your walls clamp down harshly.

"You feel so good against my pussy." Nat moaned until she came undone on your thigh soon followed by you.

She spread her arousal across your thigh as she rode out her orgasm and kept her fingers deep inside you making you squirm under her.

Her eyes were still glazed over when she looked back down at you and saw you unsuccessfully trying to move away. An evil glint appeared in her eyes as a smirk played on her lips and she leaned down to hover over you again.

"Oh, malysh, we are no where near done."

*

You woke up to a stream of sunlight flowing into the bedroom and onto the bed. You instinctively went to shield your eyes and turn over but when you did you noticed the body laying peacefully next to you.

You let your eyes adjust and brain start to kick in until you saw the mess of red hair on the pillow next to you. You smiled widely when the memories of the night before began to come back to you.

You were both laying naked in bed with the duvet barely covering you. Natasha had her back to you so you reached out and gently stroked a finger across her shoulder blades. Her shoulders tensed slightly as she gradually woke up and you were reminded of how much you pushed your bodies to the limit. You were feeling kind of sore too.

"Good morning." You greetee with a tired continuous smile and scooched over closer to her only for her to sit up without looking at you.

"Morning." She replied stiffly. You frowned a little in confusion and glanced over at her alarm clock to see how late it is and go to get up too. You had a team meeting that morning that you definetly couldn't miss.

You didn't really know what to say to her when you were finding your clothes. She didn't say anything either but the silence didn't feel right. Not awkward, just not right.

You kept glancing over at her but she never faced you when she was quickly getting changed into clean clothes.

You looked over at the clock again nervously. Half an hour until the meeting. Need to have a shower, clean clothes, breakfast? No, no time. Talk to Natasha?

You really had no clue what to say to the redhead you had spent the night in and it definelty didn't help that your brain hadn't fully kicked in yet.

"So I'll...see you later then?" Smooth, y/n.

"Yeah." Nat said back as she searched for something in her drawers. You nodded and awkwardly pointed to the door and practically ran towards it. The moment you were on the other side of the door you smacked yourself on forehead and started to think about what to say to your best friend.

*

Throughout the whole of the team meeting Natasha didn't look at you once. Even in the most important meetings she would shoot you a smile every so often or kick you lightly if she knew you weren't paying attention. But she never even acknowledged you in that one.

Granted, the mission brief was one of the most important ones the team had ever had while you had been there. It wasn't for a couple of weeks because an operation like that one required a lot of planning, preparing and paperwork to fill out before it had even started.

It was the single biggest Hydra base there was. It was the heart of all Hydra operations and that meant there was a lot to do. All Hydra agents needed to be captured or killed, all data and information they had needed to be taken and the place needed to be destroyed.

The meeting dragged on for a long time and eventually you were all told to leave and continue as normal until the mission. You planned to walk out with Natasha but she had disappeared before you got the chance.

It was like that for the rest of the day. You never saw your friend and everytime you asked someone where she was she was never where they said. It felt like you were going on a wild goose chase for her between training and eating.

Eventually though, you finally found her in the kitchen late in the evening making herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She saw you approaching and tensed up without you noticing as you nervously approached, practising what had decided to say to her over in your head.

"Hey." You smiled, eyes trailing to the snack she had prepared as you remembered the time you lectured her on doing it wrong and corrected her. She had insisted you couldn't make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich wrong, but always did it your way after that.

"Hi." She said as she cut the sandwich in half and went to make a swift leave.

"I've been looking for you all day." You half laughed as you moved to stand infront of her.

"I've been busy." She replied and went to move around you.

"Yeah." You laughed nervously again as you followed her.

You had never really been one to shoot your shot or make the first move. It was awkward and uncomfortable even if you ended up lucky. You had never wanted to risk screwing everything up.

You could manage the bottled up feelings most of the time. You always chose that over some form of confrontation. Those were just small, passing crushes. Natasha Romanoff was far from that. And given everything that had happened the night before, you were sure you had a chance - more than a chance.

"So last night was great. More than great actually." You corrected as you managed to keep up with her fast strides.

"I'n glad you enjoyed it." She said simply.

"Did...did you?"

"Yes."

"Cool, so um I was thinking- well I was wondering if you would want to go out sometime." You started as you fiddled with your fingers. "I know you're busy so it doesn't have to be right away- or at all of course! Totally up to you, we could just get a drink or a meal." You rambled, going completly off script. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you caught sight of Natasha's room. She stayed silent for a while and you started to suspect you should have kept your mouth shut.

"Look, y/n." Oh God. "Last night wasn't...we were drunk." She started.

"No we weren't." You instantly said and winced at your frantic reply. "I mean we were tipsy at the very most." You corrected and hoped it overruled your desperate comment prior.

"Right, but it wasn't anything serious." Oh fuck. "We were just messing around and celebrating." She said slowly as she reached her door and grabbed the handle, clearly wanting to leave the awkward convosation.

"Oh...yeah of course. I knew that." You lied. "I just thought...yeah never mind- sorry." You rambled again and scratched the back of your neck.

"It's alright." She said looking at her door longingly. "See you tomorrow, y/n." She finally said.

"Yeah, goodnight, Nat." You said back and heard the door shut as soon as you turned around.

Fuck!

*

Natasha was a generally very mature person. That meant she could put aside personal differences for her job and move past disagreements and resolve tension for the sake of the friendships she developed and treasured. It seemed that didn't apply to you.

You understood that the redhead would want space for a few days. Time was the best thing you could give to allow yourself to pick up the pieces of your heart to reassemble eventually and for Natasha move past what you said.

A week past and Natasha still avoided you like the plague.

That drastic change was one you had never prepared yourself to adjust to. You had been so confident that Natasha felt the same way, it was the one time you didn't plan for rejection. That made it even harder. One moment you and Natasha were practically joint at the hip and the next you were rarely in the same room.

Everytime she went into a room and saw you there she made some excuse about forgetting something and didn't return. If it was you who arrived in a room she was already in she would mutter something about being busy and having things to do.

That meant Nat started doing things like training in the evenings or early night just to avoid you. It was a miracle if she ate a meal with the others too. Her whole schedule changed drastically.

The others noticed pretty quickly. All of it. Natasha's strange routine was just as clear as her separation from you. No one really wanted to say anything, thinking that any issues you and Natasha had could be solved by yourselves. But with the mission fast approaching and there being no signs of things returning to normal, Steve decided to talk to you.

You knew it was Steve at your door by the softness of his knock. Everyone on the team could determine who was outside their door by their knock, it didn't seem possible but it was your equivalent of knowing which family member was coming up the stairs.

"Come in, Steve." You called as you flicked through Netflix. It was late in the evening and you were trying to unwind before bed but you were still haunted by the memories of screwing up your friendship with Natasha.

"You alright?" He asked as he closed the door and joined you on the bed that sunk a little under his weight.

"Never better." You said sarcastically before smiling a little at him, you knew he meant well.

"What's going on with you and Nat?" He asked. You paused you mindless scrolling through the TV as you felt the pain in your chest return.

"I messed it up, Steve. I messed it all up." You admitted as you started to shake.

"Hey." He comforted as he saw tears form in your eyes. He put his arms around you and let you lean into him and rest you head on his shoulder.

"I don't know how to fix it." You babbled.

"Fix what?"

"Us. I think she hates me."

"Nat could never hate you." He assured making you cry a little harder.

"She won't go near me." You argued

"What happened?" He asked again patiently.

"She knows. She knows I like her." Steve chuckled softly and continued to hold you.

"Y/n we all know. It doesn't take a spy to work it out." You sniffed with a smile and wiped the tears away as you leant away from him to look at the blonde.

"I asked her out." You said.

"That was a brave thing to do." He defended despite clearly knowing how it turned out for you. You decided to leave out the reason you worked up the balls to do it.

"I don't think she thinks so." Steve sighed as he looked at the TV in consideration.

"Maybe, but she will eventually."

"How long will that be?"

"It's hard to say with Nat, but eventually. You could try talk to her again?" He suggested.

"Have you been missing how she avoids me like I'm her worst nightmare." You deadpanned.

"You let her know you care about her a lot, you're not far off." You thought for a moment about how right Steve was. Nat never did like intimacy, but she never had a problem with it if it was you. "And she may be a spy by we have a security room." He pointed out and you smiled again.

"Okay." You agreed. "Tomorrow." You decided, knowing there was a lot higher chance of you actually going through with it if you had already told Steve you would.

"Okay." He smiled back and stood up from the bed and went to leave.

"Have you talked to her?" You suddenly asked.

"Seems like she's avoiding everyone."

*

You surprised even yourself when you found yourself in the security room the next day in the late evening. It didn't take you long to flick through all the cameras and spot Natasha training with the holograms.

You made your way down to her quickly, trying to figure out at least the outline of what you could say to her. Nothing really came to mind when you tried to piece it together.

When you arrived she was focused on throwing an onslaught of punches at a punching bag that honestly looked like it was on the verge of being torn in half. It made you strongly consider backing out when you saw her like that. You just hoped that state of mind wouldn't come across in your convosation.

"Hey." You croaked making the redhead spin around with her guard still up. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." You assured as you took a tentative step towards her.

"You didn't scare me." She defied, annoyance present in her voice.

"I guess if you can be pranked by Clint that many times and not be scared nothing will scare you." You joked in a futile attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't work.

The redhead stayed silent as she adjusted the straps on her gloves. You thought she would pack up her things and leave but she went back to the punching bag and blanked you.

"Are you gonna ignore me forever?" You sighed. She paused her punches for a second before turning to look at you for the first time in over a week.

"I'm not ignoring you."

"We haven't talked in a while." You said, choosing not to argue over the fact that yes she definetly had been ignoring you.

"I've been busy." Her expression was stoic as she looked at you and it made you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for making things weird. But we can move past it. I can so you definitely should. Just because you don't want to date me doesn't mean you get to treat me like this, it's not fair on me and its not fair on the team." You breathed deeply when you finished and averted your eyes as you grew more uncomfortable from the confrontation.

"That's just the thing, y/n." Natasha said as she started to take her gloves off. "You're not going to move past it. I know you, and I know you're not going to be over it in a week." You frowned at her blunt response and took a few more steps towards her.

"Get over yourself, Nat." You sighed in frustration. "It's not like I declared that I was inlove with you. And don't forget that you came onto me that night."

"Exactly, y/n. It was one fucking night. It didn't mean anything but you decided to make a big deal out of it." You struggled to push aside the ache that came from her words and the bitter way she delivered them.

"You're never intimate with anyone. So yes when you fucked me and let me fuck you I thought there might be something more to it. It's not a crime to want something more."

Nat's jaw clenched at your words. You had brought in something personal about her and she was inevitably about to put up her walls in the most hurtful way she could. You knew that, but it didn't help you prepare.

"Why can't you accept that you were just a good fuck?" She spat as she glared at you. "Definitely one that I regret." You gulped as you took in the harsh reality of her words.

"Regret?" You whispered.

"Yes, y/n. I regret it. It was a mistake, every fucking bit of it." A mistake?

You didn't say anything in response to that. You were sure that even if you could think of something it would just come out as a squeak. Nat continued to glare at you in a way you couldn't hold. You glanced down at the floor, then the walls, then the punching pad and nodded quickly. You turned around and wandered aimlessly out the room as tears fell silently down your cheeks.

*

Needless to say things didn't get any better after that encounter. The only difference was that you were mutually avoiding each other. It hurt. A lot. You never thought you would avoid Natasha like you were. You never thought she would break your heart either.

The day of the mission didn't change anything. You and Natasha were sat as far away from each other as possible.

Only the anxiety over the mission was able to overpower the tension in the plane.

Steve had gone over the brief once more in full detail on the plane and you replayed all the information in your head until you landed. Once the quinjet had engaged its cloaking tech it landed in an open area in the surrounding forest.

You all left the quinjet in a concentrated silence as you surveyed your surroundings. It didn't take long to find the first patrolling agents in the forest that were swiftly taken out as to not alert anyone else.

The whole team was scattered across the forest from four planes in a circular layout that advanced towards the Hydra base. Even some of the best S.H.I.E.L.D agents had been brought in to assist. Steve was the first to infiltrate the base and in the least subtle way. You could hear the glass smashing and loud grunts in your coms that made you wish, not for the first time, that you could adjust the volume on those things.

You knew your route. You had it memorized clearly in your head and you also knew that some of it overlapped with Natasha's. You spotted her in your peripheral as you turned a corner to shoot at two charging agents. You leant back against the wall to reload and glanced to your left to see Natasha advancing. Stay focused. You reminded yourself.

You took a quick glance behind the corner again before looking back at Natasha who had her gun raised at you with a flightly fearing expression. Your eyes widened and you went to shout at her to stop messing around but she had already fired the gun. You heard a loud grunt and a body collapse to the floor tight behind you. You swivelled around to see a Hydra agent laying in a pool of his own blood with a handgun next to him.

"Thanks." You breathed out and started around the corner. Natasha had to take another left to the supposed data room where she could collect as much as much as could. You had to keep going but felt the sudden urge to ensure that she was safe. You looked over your shoulder as she opened the door and fired two shots before swiftly entering the room with her gun still raised.

You listened out for any more shots and heard none. She's fine. She knows what she's doing. You assured yourself as you went on.

Half an hour later the building had been cleared of all Hydra agents. Many had been captured and were had many hours of interrogation ahead of them while others hadn't been so lucky. It always weighed on you for a while when you killed as many people as you did on that mission. It was hard but it was necessary. It was the job.

The price of freedom is high. You reminded yourself. The price of freedom is high. The price of freedom is h- "Agent Romanoff is down."

"What?!" You spun around to face the building to see the room Natasha was in. It was in the center of the left side because of course you remembered exactly where she was meant to be.

You instinctively started sprinting back to the building when there was a sudden bright orange and yellow light followed by a deafening boom from the exact room Natasha was meant to be in. The explosion was quick but you got a chance to get an estimate of the scale of it and if Natasha was still in there...oh God.

"Has anyone got eyes on Romanoff?!" You demanded as you stared up at the building, finding yourself rooted to the spot.

"I got her." Steve coughed painfully. "I need a medic." He announced as he ran through the building and out the nearest exit with Natasha unconscious in his arms.

Everything else faded into the background when you saw her. The building still needed to be destroyed but you couldn't care less about the mission.

You stayed at Steve's side as he carried the readhead to the plane and laid her down gently on the bench. A medic was already there waiting and was checking Nat's vitals in an instant.

You dropped down to your knees next to her and watched her face for any signs of consciousness. When you couldn't find any you gently took ahold of her hand and laced your fingers together. You took a great deal of comfort in how warm they were and how warm you were determined for them to remain. You would kill Nat if she died on you.

Yes, she had hurt you. But you were pretty sure you were inlove with her.

You didn't let go of Natasha's hand for a long time. You held onto it tightly throughout the entirety of the flight home. You kept your fingers laced together when she was being taken to the medical wing. You held her hand for a while when they had finally settled her into a bed. She looked so peaceful in that state, you hoped it felt like that for her. She was still so beautiful too, even when she had dirt and smoke all over her before you had cleaned it all off.

You only let go when Steve practically dragged you out of the room to get some proper sleep in your bed.

You had been assured by multiple people that Natasha would be fine.

She had already been unconcious when Steve found her and was able to get her out the room before the bomb went off. It still had an impact and threw them both against a wall, but they were okay. She was okay.

You visited the redhead often but never stayed for long. As much as you wanted to, you knew she wouldn't want you there when she woke up. She had made it clear before that you had lost what you had with her, you were sure the mission hadn't changed that.

One day when you approached her room you peered around the door and saw that she was already sat up and looking around. She spotted you at the door instantly.

"Sorry." You apologised and went make a swift leave but stopped in your tracks when she spoke.

"Please don't go." She called out. You slowly turned around to face her and saw a pleading look across her face that you had never seen in her before.

You hesitated for a moment until you timidly made your way to the chair next to her bed. She watched you do so silently and anxiously, like she expected you to run out any second. You honestly thought about it, thinking another lecture was coming.

"You've been out a few days." You told her without meeting her eyes. "I was worried." You mentally scolded yourself for saying it as soon as you did, thinking that wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry." She surprised you by saying.

"It's not your fault, you didn't throw the bomb at yourself." You smiled nervously.

"Not about that." Nat said quietly. "About everything else. I treated you so badly." The regret couldn't have been more clear in her voice. "I was just scared- and that's not an excuse! It's just the truth." She explained nervously. You listened intently as you stared at her duvet.

"I lied when I said it was a mistake. I lied when I said I regretted it. I lied when I said it didn't mean anything. It meant everything to me, y/n." She explained wholeheartedly as tears started to form in her eyes.

For a moment you couldn't quite comprehend what you're seeing or hearing. Natasha was letting down her walls competly. She was being vulnerable to you.

"I care about you so much. More than I've ever let myself care about anyone. I pushed it aside and tried to ignore it for the longest time but that night I caved and I...I don't know I wasn't thinking about anything other than how much I wanted to show you I cared for you. And when I thought I finally figured out a way to do it I couldn't face it after.

"You never did anything wrong, y/n. It was all me. I couldn't face my feelings but I can't stand not being with you. Is there..." She gulped as her hands trembled notably. "Is there any possibility of a second chance?" She whispered almost fearfully. You finally looked up at her and saw the tears running down her cheeks as she gazed at you like you were the only thing of any importance in the world.

You took her shaking hand in both of yours to steady it and yourself as you spoke. "No more running off?" You asked.

"No more running off." She confirmed.

"No more lying to me?"

"No more lying."

"No more being a pussy." You half joked.

"Definelty no more being a pussy." She laughed weakly.

"Okay then. Natasha, would you like to go on a date with me?" You asked with a smile you couldn't hold back.

"It would be my pleasure, y/n." You grinned and leaned forward to plant a soft kiss on her lips as you kept ahold of her hands. She smiled against you and when you moved back you saw the glint of happiness in her eyes.

Sure, you had done things in the completly wrong order. And yes, the journey to get there had been far from easy. But you swore that day that you would make sure everything after it was done perfectly.

It was a few weeks later on the night you shared your first 'I love you' that she confessed she had sworn the same thing. And it worked.

[probsjosh]

Bumblebee

Schlatt Coin origin story. 

Dad!Schlatt x reader but I made it fuckin sad.

edit: I fucking forgot to mention this is GN!Reader I'm such an idiot

Warning: mentions of alcohol, cheating/affairs, abandonment, gambling, not explicit but reference to murder, angst (if there’s anything else I missed please tell me)

So uh, Dad!Schlatt angst aye?

_________________________________________

It had been a great Friday afternoon. Schlatt decided he’d wanted to take you, his spouse, and son out for the day to have some fun, going to having lunch, then visiting the local ice cream shop before stopping at an arcade to spoil Tubbo for the night. It was rare for your family of three to have these outings but it made it all that much more special when you had the time and money to do so. 

After playing and collecting tickets for the better part of two hours, Tubbo had finally scrounged up just enough tickets to get the giant bee plushie he’d been eyeing all year. It was bigger than his torso, square-shaped, and undeniably adorable. What was even more adorable was this pudgy little three-year-old waddling his way up to the prize counter, holding an unreasonable amount of tickets in his arms. There’s a small moment of panic when he realizes he can’t quite reach the top of the counter when his dad comes to the rescue, lifting him up so he can open his arms and let the tickets fall in front of the impressed employee. 

“Gimme da bee,” Is all he says, his contagious laughter ringing out as the bee is retrieved and handed over to the giddy child. “Tank you!” is all the employee gets before he buries his face into the plush. Schlatt laughs and hugs him tighter, he kisses his forehead as you look at them awestruck, a loving smile on your face. It was moments like these that reminded you how much you loved your family. Tubbo managed to peel himself away from his newfound love long enough to yell at you, “Look! I got da bee! Look!” You laugh as you come closer to them, pressing a kiss onto Tubbos forehead, “My little Bumblebee has his own bumblebee!” His little giggles muffled by the bee as he nods, “I got a bumby bee!”

Once you were all back home, there was a knock at the door. You were sitting in the bathroom with Tubbo, who was enjoying a bubble bath, so Schlatt went to answer the door. There was some muffled talking before he appeared in the bathroom doorway. “I’m gonna go out to the casino with the boys for a while. Think you can survive a few hours without me?” Tubbo emerges from his mountain of bubbles, giggling before he dove back in, “I think we’ll be okay,” you laugh as your son piles the bubbles onto his head like a hat. Schlatt smiles and gives you a quick kiss before heading out. “Don’t get too shit-faced!” you call after him, you hear a soft, “I’ll try!” before the door shuts. 

He apparently didn’t try hard enough. He stumbles in the front door at 4 a.m. reeking of booze, the lingering smell of cigarette smoke staining his clothes. You came downstairs to help him into the bathroom. “I think-” he hiccups as you sit him on the rim of the bathtub, “I think I got a little too shit-faced.” He smiles apologetically, swaying lightly, before reaching into his pocket, “I made some money though.” You smile back, but chastise him for drinking and coming home late anyways, but you knew he probably didn’t mean to get as drunk as he did and it seemed like he’d had fun.

It wasn’t a problem at first. At first, it was just a weekend a month. Then one weekend became two, became every other week, became if he wasn’t at work, he was at that damn casino, became you weren’t even sure if he still had a job. You weren’t even sure when it started but you very quickly realized what a problem it had become. Schlatt was never home. And if he was he would only appear to drop off a wad of cash, give Tubbo a hug, try to show you any semblance of affection which you outright rejected, and he’d be out the door again. You’d stopped trying to keep him at home, seeing as he’d just disappear no matter what you told him, no matter how much you asked for him to stay, he never did. 

Your breaking point was when Tubbo just stopped asking where his dad was. It was almost as if he’d forgotten who his father was, and the only person to blame was Schlatt. So one night you asked your neighbors if they could watch Tubbo for just a little while, they agreed, and you were off to the casino to drag your alcoholic, gambling addict of a husband back home. 

It wasn’t difficult to spot him in public, his ram horns like a crown atop his head made him a beacon for attention, and he was definitely getting it. He sat at a Roulette table, a rather large crowd gathered around him, towers of chips in front of him, one arm slung around some twink, the other arm knocking over towers of chips to signify him placing his bet. He was always one to put on a show. 

“Always bet on black!” he shouted, and the crowd around him roared, as the dealer pushed his newly won earnings towards him. He took a sip of his drink before he leaned down and kissed the man pressed against his side. 

That made you see red. 

You stormed over, the crowd parting like the red sea at the sight of your fury until you were met with JSchlatt himself. “Hey, what happened...” was all he could say before he turned to see you standing there in front of him, furious and heartbroken. 

“How could you?” You sounded so angry at first. “How fucking could you.” But it melted away into sorrow. The tears flowed down easily, you didn’t bother trying to hide how much he’d hurt you. But after months of never seeing him at home, did you really think he would remain faithful to you? Did the thought of Schlatt living out of a casino, on a never-ending gambling train, never make you think that he was doing something, or rather someone, else?

    No. In all honesty, it hadn’t. You’d been naive enough to trust the man with the Devil’s Horns with every aspect of yourself, thinking that maybe if you loved him enough, he’d love you just the same. And as you stood in front of the man you once called the love of your life. The father to your gorgeous child. The man that promised to love you till the end of your days. 

You saw the pure horror in his eyes. 

   

Not the shame you’d expected, nor the anger at the fact that he’d been caught. He was terrified. Of what, you couldn’t be sure and you honestly didn’t care. Anger clouded your judgment, as you saw him take a step towards you, an arm extended out to reach for you. You swatted his hand away and sobbed. Hot, angry tears streamed down your face as you yelled. Profanities, curses to his name, wishes that you’d never met the wretched man, and he was so taken aback, he stumbled back and into the table. Every single one of his chip towers fell, the dealer didn’t bat an eye and accepted his entire haul as a bet. Schlatt realized too late as he turned to see the wheel spin.

Red, 16.

You’d stopped yelling by now, trying to collect yourself, as you felt both his hands clamp onto your arms, “Honey, darling, I’m gonna need you to listen to me, okay?” You tried to pull away, fighting against his grip, but he apparently wasn’t as drunk as he made it out to seem. “Please, I know I fucked up, just please for the love of God listen to me for just one fucking second.” 

The urgency and desperation in his voice caught your attention and you knew he was being serious. You stopped fighting in his grip and met his gaze. 

“I need you to go home. I need you to take Tubbo, take any cash you have left, and nothing else. And I need you to run. As far and as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” The fear in his eyes suddenly made sense as you nodded twice. He let out a choked breath before he whispered, “I’m so sorry,” as he let go of you. You didn’t say anything in return, only giving him one last look of pained understanding as you turned on your heel and ran as fast as you could.

Schlatt stood there, staring at the spot where the love of his life had stood. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming down when he heard the awfully familiar voice of the casino owner as he walked onto the floor. As it turns out, Schlatt had been in that casino 24/7 because he owed someone powerful a lot, and I mean a lot, of money. “JSchlatt. Friend. We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Schlatt flinches as he feels Dreams' hand land on his shoulder. He opens his eyes, the shit-eating grin he’d come to perfect settling on his face so fucking naturally, as he turned to face his demon. “Dream! Ah! What a lovely surprise-” 

“Cut the shit Schlatt. What the hell just happened to my money.” It's not a question. He knows what happened, he just wants to see Schlatt squirm. 

"I can— I can get it all back. I promise. I promise— please just," he swallows what little pride he has left and he begins to unravel in front of Dream, "Just leave my spouse and kid alone." Dream tsks and looks Schlatt over once, pausing for just a second before he sighs and reaches into his pocket.

 He takes Schlatts wrist and presses a single gold coin into his palm, closing the drunks fist around it. Schlatt, grateful for this second chance, almost sighs in relief, but before he can, Dream speaks again, "Your last coin, Schlatt. Be smart with it." Immediately Dreams lackeys rush past them, out the door, and into the night looking for blood. Schlatt realizes far too late. "NO—" Dreams grip on his wrist tightens, as Schlatt stumbles and falls in front of him. 

“I told you Schlatt. There would be a price to pay.”

 Schlatt finally breaks in front of Dream, gripping the coin in his hand, as he screams for the family he knows he's already lost.

You stumbled up to your neighbor’s door, slamming your fists repeatedly on their front door before a panicked woman opened the door. It was well into the night at this point, and you’d feel much more sympathy for her if the fear and adrenaline course through you weren’t making you as panicked as she looked. You rushed pasted her, picking Tubbo up from where he lay sleeping, thanked her profusely before you apologized, and bolted out of her house. You gripped Tubbo to your chest as you ran down the street and into the city, pasted closed shops, and speeding cars. Tubbo never once stirring from his slumber, his little arms wrapped around his bee plush, his blanket catching all your tears as you bolted haphazardly through the city.

You didn't know much about the man who ran the casino but you knew what happened to the people that crossed him.

You didn't have it in you to outright hate Schlatt for this. It may have been his actions that lead to this but it was obvious he never meant to put either you or Tubbo in harm’s way. The look on his face was enough to tell you he still loved you with every fiber of his being but that was not enough to excuse him for what he'd done. You didn’t think you’d ever forgive him for what he’d done to you and Tubbo, but you knew that didn’t matter now. What mattered was making sure Tubbo was safe.

You came across an alleyway that went into the forest bordering the city. You knew there was only so much you could do in the city, so you chose to gamble your chances in the woods. After hours of dodging trees, bushes, and boulders, getting as far away from the sounds of the men coming after you as you could, you manage to find yourself on the other side of the forest. The sun was rising in the distance as you came to a clearing. A road that lead out of the city and into the undeveloped land surrounding it. 

Then you spot it.

A box. A simple box sitting on the side of the lonely road leading out of the city. As you got closer the words "FREE ITEMS" written on the side in bold black marker made it clear that this was a donation box. You knew this is Tubbos’ only chance. Frantically, you search the box and luckily find the very marker used to write on the box that had been tossed in by its original owner. You carefully lower Tubbo into the box, uncap the marker and on the inside flap quickly scribble "His name is tubbo, take care of him, please.”

You don't even realize you're crying until your vision is too blurry to see the words. You hear a shout coming from the woods and you know you have to go. Suppressing your sobs, you quickly press a kiss into his forehead for the last time, "Goodbye my little Bumblebee." A sad smile comes onto your features as you close the flaps of the box enough to hide him before turning back into the forest and running in without looking back. A newfound determination in you as you make as much noise as you can, hoping that they would be satisfied in only killing you and leave your baby alone.

A few hours pass and there are screams coming from within the forest that are abruptly cut off. Tubbo stirs in his box and awakens as the sun comes up, spilling into his new temporary home. He sits up, confused and alone when he hears a voice coming up the road. Fear gets the better of him and he ducks down into the box as he hears a small voice yell, "Dadza! Dadza! Can I check what’s inside that box?" There’s a low chuckle, and a soft, "Sure son, go ahead," before Tubbo can hear small footsteps quickly approaching him.

Tubbo grips his plushie as he hears the small footsteps slow down, before stopping completely. Suddenly the box flaps open and a little blonde boy’s head pokes out over the edge, blue eyes peering down at him. A moment passes as both boys stare at each other in confusion before the blonde boy calls out again.

"Daaaaad! There's a baby in the box!" The heavy footsteps stop suddenly. "A what?" The footsteps start up again, and suddenly a man in a green and white striped bucket hat appears. Confusion turns to worry, as the man’s eyes settle on the message scribbled into the box. “So. Tubbo? Is it?” 

Tubbos’ grip on his plushie becomes even tighter, but he nods slowly, eyes dancing between the boy and the man. “Well, Tubbo. Guess I’m your dad now. My name is Philza,” he gestures to the boy, “and this is Tommy.” Tubbos eyes meet Tommys, and Tommy grins at the boy in front of him. “Hi, Tubbo! You’re gonna be my best friend!” At these words, Tubbo smiles and stands in his box, dropping his bee in favor of hugging Tommy. “Hi, Tommy.” Is all he says as Tommy hugs Tubbo back. Philza smiles at the boys in front of him, unable to find it in him to worry about how his twins would react to the family’s new addition.

Back in the city, Schlatt stumbles back home for the first time in weeks, being greeted by a cold and silent house. He shuts the door behind him and slumps down onto the floor. A bottle of Jack Daniels already half-empty meets his lips as he begins to cry again. Longing for the family that he lost the moment he struck that stupid deal with Dream. His fingers play with the singular gold coin he has to his name. 

Schlatts coin.

Bonus:

He liked to walk the length of the city during the day. The sights and sounds were enough to drown out his hungover thoughts. He'd be sober for most of the day before he returned to the casino to drown his sorrow in liquor, but for now he could relish in the warm sun as he came to the edge of the city. There was a playground near where the forest and city collided that he usually avoided, in fear of breaking down over hearing the children's laughter, but for some reason today he felt nostalgia for the happy times he'd once had.

He walks the sidewalk, tears coming to his eyes as his guilt comes crashing back. Coming to a bench, he sits down, hands cradling his head, as he tries to get a hold of himself together. Suddenly he hears him. He hears his son shouting, "Dad! Dad!" followed by his laughter. 

Thinking he'd finally gone insane, he looks up expecting to see some random kid yelling for their father. Instead he's met with the sight of his Tubbo running around the playground as fast as his little feet will carry him, giggling as a little blonde boy chases him. "Tub-Tubbo?" his own words are nothing but whispers, but his son is shouting, "Dad!" another giggle, "Dadza! Dadza!" a man with large black wings stands from his bench to catch Tubbo as he launches himself into his arms, "Tommy's chasing me! He's chasing me!" the man laughs as the other boy, presumably Tommy, runs into the man's legs, "We're playing tag dummy! I'm supposed to chase you!" the three laugh as the man sits down once again, Tubbo still in his arms, and Tommy clambers onto the bench as well. 

Schlatts face is wet with tears. He's alive. Tubbo was alive. His son was alive and happy and‐ and without him. Without his parents. Grief rocks Schlatts body once more, a single sob escaping him before he rubs his eyes, takes 3 deep breaths, and collects himself.

What mattered here was that Tubbo was safe. He was alive. And he was happy. Schlatt stands, sparing a final glance at his son, silently thanking the man for taking him in, and he begins to walk away without turning back. 

Tubbo turns in time to see a man with ram horns turn the corner as he walks away. "....dad?" his smile dropped as he pulled away from Phil, walking to where he saw the man. "Tubbo? What's wrong?" Phil asked, the concern evident in his voice. Tubbo says nothing and instead makes his way over to the sidewalk, Phil and Tommy close behind. 

As he stepped into the middle of the walkway he saw no one. His little eyebrows knit together as he turns back to face them. "I thought… I thought I saw my dad...but I haven't seen him in so long- it probably wasn't even him." There's an odd mixture of emotion laced in his words as they make their way back to the bench. "'M sorry Tubbo. Do you want to go back home?" Tubbo nods, taking Phil's hand and Tommy goes over and grabs Tubbos' other hand. He smiles at the younger boy, and Tubbo finds it in him to smile back. 

As they begin their trek home Tubbo thinks about the man he saw, and how he could've sworn he recognized his horns.

He could've sworn he recognized his dad's horns.

[t0wnspersonb]

Sleepless Nights (Kageyama Tobio x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Hi hi hope you're doing well! I was wondering if I could request a fic with giving kageyama a blow job for the first time? You can take it further if you want, whatever you want! Love your writing 😊

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Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,973

Warnings: SMUT, oral sex (male recieving), language, Kageyama being a perfect angel baby.

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I didn’t think that I was a simp for Kageyama but like maybe...?👀👀👀 I hope that you guys like it! It was a lot of fun writing lmao. Also bonus points if you can catch the reference I made😂 I’m still shuffling through my inbox, I won’t be doing all the requests that have been asked but I will still be doing a select few. Please enjoy:)

~~~~

You shifted nervously in your seat, weakly smiling at the orange haired male that was blatantly staring you down.

 This was incredibly awkward.

 “Stop staring at her dumbass!” Kageyama growled, setting down his milk cartoon to slap the middle blocker, who easily dodged his advances. 

 “Why are you dating Kageyama!? He’s a bad guy!” Hinata yelled getting in your face.

 “OI!” Kageyama grabbed the back of his uniform, yanking him away from you.

 You furrowed your brows in confusion at his statement, a bad guy? Kageyama was far from it.

 “I really like him.” you blurted out, pausing their fighting, the tall setter looked at you with a shocked face, blush coating his cheeks in embarrassment. Hinata on the other hand looked mortified at your statement. “He’s very kind and strong.” you finished, glancing down at your bento, now you were embarrassed at your confession.

 “He’s not kind at all! But he is strong! His tosses are the best!” Hinata declared, returning his attention to his large sandwich.

 Kageyama ignored him, his blue eyes focusing on you completely. You guys had only been dating for a couple of weeks but… those past couple of weeks he’s never been happier.

 You were in the same class as Yachi, but the store that he went to often was the same store that you worked at part time. Before you knew it, a friendship began to blossom between the two of you, and then you guys literally ran into each other during a morning run.

 Come to find out that you guys went to the same school and were in the same year. Although, you were completely unaware of the tall male and his club activities. You were on the swim team, on the complete opposite side of where the volleyball gym was.

 But after that friendship began to bloom, something new took its place. Something more vibrant, and far sweeter.

 You were the first one to confess your feelings, despite the nerves, despite the fear that he wasn’t going to feel the same. You knew how hard he worked at volleyball, you figured that he wouldn’t have time in his life for a girlfriend, but the secret ate you up inside. When you had confessed, you were already prepared for the rejection that he would give you, only it never came. 

 He liked you too.

 Naturally you guys began dating, and it was pure heaven. Despite his awkwardness, things slowly became more natural. It wasn’t until now that he started to introduce you to his friends. 

 Hence the strange interaction you just had with the middle blocker.

 “Is Y/n-chan going to come to the game tomorrow?” Hinata asked with his mouth full of food.

 You perked up at that, beaming at the small male. “I am! It’ll be my first time seeing a volleyball game! I’m very excited.”

 “Eh!? You’ve never seen a volleyball game before!? What have you been doing!?” Hinata exclaimed.

 Kageyama scowled at him. “Y/n isn’t a volleyball player. She’s on the swim team, she doesn’t have time to focus on volleyball like you do dumbass.”

 Before another fight between the two began you started talking. “I’ve never been interested in the sport. I’ve always been really busy with swim meets and fundraisers. But when Tobio talks about volleyball it sounds like a lot of fun! Your team sounds so strong!” You said brightly.

 Kageyama felt his heart thump harder in his chest at your praise. The clear happiness and excitement on your face was undeniably adorable. 

 “What do you do when you swim Y/n-chan!?” Hinata asked excitedly.

 “I only swim free.” You said proudly, grinning at the smaller male. “It’s the only style I swim during meets.”

 “She’s really good too.” Kageyama stated, thinking back when he had gone to his first ever swim meet. You were incredible in the water, breathtaking. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you swam, you were elegant and beautiful, your movements gliding through the water easily.

 He had never seen anything more perfect before.

 “I don’t know what that means but it sounds cool! You’re cool Y/n-chan!” Hinata said brightly.

 You couldn’t help but grin back, all traces of awkwardness gone now. “Thanks, Hinata!”

 Lunch ended without a hitch now, the conversation was easy with Hinata, despite the constant fighting, it was incredibly fun.

 Before you could head back to class Kageyama grabbed your hand gently. He stared off into the distance, blushing softly as he glanced over to you quickly. 

 “Will you wait for me after practice?” he asked.

 You squeezed his hand carefully, ignoring your racing heart. “Of course! Let’s walk home together Tobio.” you smiled sweetly.

 He nodded once before releasing your hand and walking off; Hinata was already long gone by now.

 You smiled softly to yourself, the tall setter had a hold on your heart like no other. You couldn’t wait for the game on Saturday.

 ****

 As promised, you stood outside of the volleyball gym, kicking lightly at a rock near your foot.

 “Y/n-chan!” you heard a familiar voice call out, you looked up smiling at the orange haired male jumping and waving his arms around, several others looking at you in curiosity.

 “Shut up Hinata! Boke!” Kageyama growled grabbing his head. After a couple of shoves, Kageyama made his way over to you.

 “Ready?” you asked sweetly, beaming up at the tall setter. He felt his face flush but nodded, reaching to carry your bag.

 “Yeah let’s go.” he said, slugging it over his other shoulder before taking your small hand into his own.

 “What? Is that Kageyama’s girlfriend?” Tsukishima asked, intending for it to be a joke.

 “Yeah! She’s super cool!” Hinata said excitedly. “Y/n-chan is on the swim team! She only swims free! Whatever that means!”

 “... WAIT WHAT!?”

 “KAGEYAMA HAS A GIRLFRIEND BEFORE ME!?”

 “BUT SHE’S TOO CUTE!”

 “THE UNIVERSE HAS FORSAKEN ME!”

 “SHUT UP AND GO HOME EVERYONE!”

 “... Yes Daichi.”

 ****

 Kageyama couldn’t help but notice that your hand was cool, and that your hair was still wet from your swim practice.

 “Are you cold?” he asked, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

 You shook your head. “I’m fine. Besides, we're already at my house.” 

 You looked up at the dark-haired setter who was scratching the back of his head, not meeting your gaze. 

 “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, finally looking at you, his face slightly flushed. 

 “Bright and early. You’ll do great.” You smiled, hands resting on his uniform. “Sleep well?”

 He nodded and stooped down as you stood up on your tiptoes, his slightly chapped lips gently brushing against yours before sealing your lips in a gentle kiss goodnight.

 This wasn’t your first kiss with Kageyama. Surprisingly, kisses came incredibly easy for the awkward setter. He loved how soft your lips were, and how he could taste the melon lip gloss on his lips afterwards.

 Your heart raced in your chest, and you were tempted to pull him in deeper, wanting the kiss to develop more and last longer, but all too soon he pulled away, giving you a soft smile before taking his leave.

 That boy was going to be the death of you.

 The rest of the night progressed uneventfully, and you soon found yourself freshly showered and ready for bed. 

 Practice must’ve been incredibly draining for you, because as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

 It had to be at least three in morning when your phone began to ring. You sleepily fumbled around for it before squinting at the bright screen.

 Kageyama.

 “Hello?” you answered, voice thick with sleep.

 “I’m sorry for waking you.” he said softly. “I just couldn’t sleep. Is it okay if I come over?”

 “Yeah. Let me open my window.” you mumbled quietly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, turning on your bedside lamp before shuffling yourself out of bed to open the window. 

 This also wasn’t the first time you’ve done this either. 

 Even before you guys had started dating, Kageyama frequented your bedroom many nights to hang out.

 You could barely keep your eyes open as you waited for Kageyama to show up, it had been about fifteen minutes before you saw a familiar figure slip through the open window and quietly close it behind him.

 You gave Kageyama a sleepy smile from your bed, noticing his grey sweatpants and black pullover. He looked good, incredibly good.

 You hadn’t noticed his sharp intake of breath. Kageyama swallowed thickly as he took in your sleepy appearance. Your hair was tousled from sleep, the baggy white shirt did nothing to hide your hardened nipples that were now straining against the thin fabric from the frigid air. Your soft legs were incredibly exposed to his eyes and… oh fuck, your pink colored panties were on full display now.

 “Why can’t you sleep?” you asked, yawning, stretching your arms above your head. This caused your shirt to pull up more, revealing the delicate white bow on the front of your panties.

 Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away, his pants tightening ever so slightly.

 “T-Too pent up for the game tomorrow.” he said, finally snapping his eyes away from your figure. 

 His palms were incredibly sweaty at this point, blood roaring in his ears as he attempted to calm his racing heart. 

 “I see.” you said tiredly. “Well we can play a game on the console until you feel tired.” you stretched your body out on the bed as you reached for your side table drawer, your upper body lying flat, your bottom swaying slightly in the air.

 Kageyama’s eyes zeroed in on your ass, the panties hugging your cheeks perfectly, and the urge to grab at those perfect mounds of flesh caused his fingers to twitch at his sides.

 This definitely wasn’t good, because now he was pent up for an entirely different thing.

 “Here it is.” you mumbled to yourself, completely unaware of the internal conflict that was going on in front of you. You looked over at him, sitting up on your knees and patting the spot next to you on the bed. “Come here.”

 He sat down next to you stiffly, carefully resting his back against the wall. 

 “Get comfortable Tobio.” you said in amusement, yawning once more. He nodded robotically as he situated himself a bit better on the bed, making sure to rest his legs in a position that prevented you from seeing the increasing tent in his pants.

 You handed him the game, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling him stiffen slightly before relaxing as he started playing.

 He had only begun playing for a couple of minutes before your eyes began to droop in exhaustion, you wrapped your arms around his bicep as you settled against him comfortably.

 But he could feel your breasts pressing into his arm, his character dying in the game as he started to focus more on you.

 While your relationship was still relatively new, you guys definitely weren’t strangers to cuddling or gentle touches.

 Kageyama was definitely familiar with the desire that was now coursing through his veins. The first time he had experienced this was the first time he had gone to your swim meet. While the swimsuit that you wore wasn’t necessarily the most flattering thing, you were definitely beautiful, and the revealed skin of your body did something to him.

 “Y/n,” he whispered, causing your head to jerk up as you were startled awake. But before you could even process what was happening, Kageyama tossed the gaming console at the edge of the bed, twisting his body slightly as he moved to cup your face, and pressing his mouth against yours.

 A noise of surprise was made in the back of your throat, but you kissed him back. Arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pulled him into you. The tiredness you were feeling began fading away, want and need seeping into your body now. 

 The kiss developed quickly, your tongue carefully tracing his lips before they parted in surprise. Your fingers were twisting in his black hair now as you pulled him in deeper. Your tongue massaging his, in a hot, slippery mess. 

 One of his hands rested on the side of your neck, keeping you to him, while the other was placed carefully on your waist. 

 This wasn’t enough though. You needed more. Carefully you swung your leg over his hip, maneuvering yourself so that you were now straddling him, your core pressing directly into his crotch.

 And that's when you felt it, a growing hardness that began pressing against you in your most intimate areas. 

 Kageyama ripped himself away from your lips, his expression dazed as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I-I’m sorry.” he breathed out. 

 You ignored him and carefully grinded your hips down against him, wanting more. A choked sound escaped his swollen lips, his hands darting out to grip your hips tightly, preventing you from moving further against him.

 “What are you doing?” he panted, his pants were incredibly tight like his chest as he struggled to catch his breath.

 “Let me.” You whimpered, tugging at his hands. “Let me help. Let me take care of you.”

 You scrambled out of his lap, his face confused and dazed as you settled yourself between his legs. Your hands gently ran up and down his strong thighs, you could feel the muscles flexing under your sweet touch. 

 “You want to sleep right? I’ll make you tired.” You whispered and started tugging at his pants. You didn’t know what came over you, but all you knew was that you wanted to see Kageyama unravel before you. You wanted to hear more of those noises escape his lips.

 “W-Wait.” he grabbed your hands, staring at you with wide eyes. “Are you… what are you -” “trust me.” you interrupted him, “I’ll make you feel so good Tobio, please?”

 The pleading that was escaping your lips made you feel a bit pathetic, but that feeling was overshadowed by the complete need to make him feel good.

 He stared at you for a bit longer before nodding, his hands released yours as you pushed his pullover up slightly, working his pants and underwear over his hips and then… fuck. Your mouth watered at the sight. His member contrasted beautifully with the hard lines of his lower stomach; the splatter of dark hair caused your stomach to twist pleasantly. Carefully, you wrapped your hand around him, the skin soft and hot beneath your fingers.

 Kageyama’s breath became more labored, coming out in short and quick pants. His eyes fluttering shut at your touch. 

 You stared in awe as you began stroking him up and down carefully, his cock pulsing in your hand. 

 You wondered… your tongue darted out, flicking softly at the swollen head, tasting the bitterness of the leaking precum.

 A strangled groan escaped Kageyama’s mouth, his hand shooting out to grab your wrist. Your eyes flickered up to look at him.

 Fuck. You had always thought that Kageyama was beautiful, but this time.... You wanted to burn that image of him into your mind forever.

 His eyes were half-lidded, the pupils blown completely, sweat stuck to his skin causing his hair to cling to his forehead. His cheeks flushed a beautiful red, his lips parted and swollen from his constant biting.

 He was perfect.

 You ignored the hand that was gripping your wrist and lowered your mouth further onto the head of his cock. He flinched, body shuddering as you started sinking down lower. Your mouth was like a furnace, hot and wet, Kageyama didn’t think he could get any harder than he was.

 “W-What are you doing?” he choked out, reaching to pull you off his member. “Y-You shouldn’t put that in your -” you started swirling your tongue against his head. He whimpered loudly, biting at the neckline of his pullover, muffling the sounds that started to pour from his lips.

 You started moving, slowly dragging your mouth up and down, your tongue dragging against the underside of his cock. You continued this movement for a moment, before increasing the pace, and sucking harder.

 His hips thrusted up in a short and tight movement, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gagged at the sudden touch, felt tears sting at your eyes, but it was worth it.

 His long fingers carefully reached down and dragged gently against your cheek, he was staring at you, pleasure contorting his face beautifully.

 “You’re so pretty.” he breathed out, his breath getting caught in his throat as you began flicking your tongue rapidly against his head now.

 “I… ngh… I’m not - not gonna last… l-long.” he stuttered out. His cock throbbed violently in your mouth, and then you began to feel thick spurts of cum hit your tongue, you hummed softly at the taste of him, easily swallowing his load down your throat. 

 Carefully you pulled your mouth off of his softening member, watching him as he struggled to breathe, his eyes were screwed shut still, his brows furrowed.

 “Tired?” you asked softly, your hand gentling rubbing against one of his locked thighs. His eyes fluttered open, staring at you in awe. He nodded softly before tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting his clothes. 

 He held an arm out to you wordlessly, your body easily tucking into his side as you guys laid on your bed. His scent wafting into your nose, causing your eyes to flutter shut, you were tired now too.

 “I think… now I’ll be able to win my game tomorrow.” he said quietly after a moment. 

 Your lips twitched into a smile as you pressed your face deeper into his chest.

 “Go to sleep Tobio.”

[the-witty-pen-name]

Reunited

Part One of The Necklace (1/3)

Obi-Wan x Reader (f)

Warnings: none; fluff - maybe angst?

Word Count: 2k 

Based on this Request:

“If you still need that inspiration... maybe an obi-wan thing where he makes the reader a beautiful necklace when they were young padawans and they get separated bc reader goes om a long mission but when they meet again as adults she still wears it and then he confesses his feelings (a bit of anakin teasing his master about his obvious feelings sprinkled in perhaps😂)”

A/N: Thank you so much to @katevino for this suggestion! I absolutely adore this idea and I decided to turn it into a small series. Part two will be posted this Sunday! 

Italics are flashbacks by the way! 

I hope y’all enjoy! 

Preview: 

“How do you think she’ll react to seeing you again, Master?” Anakin asks with a smirk on his face. They both step into the turbolift simultaneously after a small handful of representatives walk out first.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” Obi-Wan said dismissively, and very obviously lying. He wanted anything but to be having this conversation right now.

“You can’t think me to be that naïve, Master,” Anakin chuckles as the doors slide closed. It was just the two of them. “I remember her anyways,” he continues, while Obi-Wan’s heart sinks into his stomach. “I know I was very young when she left but I remember distinctly the way you looked at her.”

“It’s nothing that should be of any concern,” Obi-Wan replies, looking up at the ceiling- this already feeling like the longest turbolift he’s ever been in. They’d only gone up one floor before they were stopped and more people entered.

“I think you’re in love with her,” Anakin says so casually, and Obi-Wan coughs nervously because of the shock of Anakin’s words.

“A Jedi holds no attachments, Anakin,” he says, trying his best to take control over this conversation.

“Of course, Master,” Anakin replies sarcastically, holding back a scoff. He bites his lip to hold back a smile and decides to spare his Master of further embarrassment for now.

“How do you think she’ll react to seeing you again, Master?” Anakin asks with a smirk on his face. They both step into the turbolift simultaneously after a small handful of representatives walk out first.

“I don’t know who you’re referring to,” Obi-Wan said dismissively, and very obviously lying. He wanted anything but to be having this conversation right now.

“You can’t think me to be that naïve, Master,” Anakin chuckles as the doors slide closed. It was just the two of them. “I remember her anyways,” he continues, while Obi-Wan’s heart sinks into his stomach. “I know I was very young when she left but I remember distinctly the way you looked at her.”

“It’s nothing that should be of any concern,” Obi-Wan replies, looking up at the ceiling- this already feeling like the longest turbolift he’s ever been in. They’d only gone up one floor before they were stopped and more people entered.

“I think you’re in love with her,” Anakin says so casually, and Obi-Wan coughs nervously because of the shock of Anakin’s words.

“A Jedi holds no attachments, Anakin,” he says, trying his best to take control over this conversation.

“Of course, Master,” Anakin replies sarcastically, holding back a scoff. He bites his lip to hold back a smile and decides to spare his Master of further embarrassment for now.

He sat on his bunk in the Padawan dormitories and the lamp next to his bunk was his only source of light. The night was pitch dark, not even any stars visible, and yet he sat in complete concentration as his hands worked with the beads he was working with. He knew he would get chastised if he was found up after curfew, but he was determined to finish this project before tomorrow.

He had created a necklace with a chain made of a thin strip of leather, and he was carefully feeding beads onto the material. The beads were dark jeweled tones, various dark greens and blues that complimented the dark brown of the leather. He had never made something so intricate before with just his hands, but it was his goal for it to be perfect. It had to be, for you. It was your thirteenth birthday and it needed to be special.

Traditionally, Padawans would receive a gift from their Masters, but he couldn’t help his desire to also present you with a gift. He knew it was wrong of him, but young Obi-Wan Kenobi harbored a very big crush on his dear friend. The guilt always affected him, but the feelings for you were much stronger than any guilt that tugs on his heartstrings.

The turbolift’s doors opened on the floor they needed and it snapped Obi-Wan out of his daydream where he had let himself wander into the past. He walked out first and Anakin followed. The were sent by the Jedi Consul to Coruscant as representatives for the Jedi Consul to meet with members of the Galactic Senate. There were rumors you would also be in attendance, accompanying the Senator from Alderaan, as you were sent there many years ago for your very extended mission with your late Master.

Walking into the conference room, Obi-Wan tried his best to keep a professional front. He was a very nervous wreck and he thought that his heart would leap from his chest. However, his heart deflated as his eyes scanned the room as there was no sign of you. Somehow, you not being there was in a way both better and worse for him. He hadn’t had this much trouble sorting out his emotions in years. He walked into the room and began shaking hands, introducing himself and Anakin to every Senator he had not yet met and catching up with the ones he’s known.

As people were getting seated around the oblong table, Obi-Wan noticed there were two seats across from him remained empty. He had only just sat down when the door opened again, two figures walking swiftly into the room, offering sincere apologies for their tardiness and then taking the two empty seats across from Obi-Wan and Anakin. A woman sat directly across from Anakin and a man Obi-Wan recognized as the Senator of Alderaan sat across from him. His fears and every other bottled-up emotion he had been dealing with bubbled to the surface again as he realized that the figure, he saw out of focus take the seat across from Anakin was you. The Vice Chair was sitting at one end of the table, and was making her opening remarks for the meeting when Obi-Wan made the fatal mistake of stealing a glance at you.

You were just as beautiful to him as ever. You didn’t look much different than when he last saw you all those years ago. Time, he decided, was much nicer to you than it was him. Your eyes were exactly as he remembered. Kind and incredibly expressive- intoxicating to him even. Of course, the last time he had seen you, you were a young, shy girl, and now you were a woman- holding yourself with confidence and grace, sitting up straight and doing a much better job of keeping yourself together on the outside than he was according to his perception.

And his heart stopped when he saw his necklace resting around your neck.

“Obi-Wan, it’s beautiful,” you marveled, pulling the necklace up out of the small box. “Help me put it on?” You asked, handing him the necklace before turning around and moving your hair out of the way.

“O-of course,” he replied nervously and fumbled with the clasp but did manage to help you get the necklace on.

“I love it,” you smile, holding your hand up to run your fingers across the smooth beads. “I’m never going to take it off.”

He grinned back at you, butterflies in his stomach looking at how it looked on you. Your whole face felt hot, and he knew he couldn’t help the blush rise on his face. Even at thirteen, he was in love with you. Of course, he was young and it wasn’t until much later on he realized he had loved you way back then. But nonetheless, he was undeniably in love with you.

“I think this is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” you say with a smile. “Obi-Wan I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he manages to stutter. He follows your lead as you take a seat. You both sat under the tree in the courtyard of the temple. You both sit in silence for a few moments before you decide to speak again.

“Does it ever both you that you can never form attachments with someone?” You ask softly. “We’re not allowed to fall in love?”

“I-I suppose it does,” Obi-Wan answers, his heart beating so fast. It was like you could read every thought in his mind he had managed to close off as best as he could. “Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” You admit. You look up at the sky as the colors signify that the sun is beginning to set and you both would need to go to dinner soon. “It’s frustrating… the rule is written like it’s something you can chose. No matter how hard I try, I can’t help how I feel at times…”

“I know how you feel,” he says softly, looking at you with his heart on his sleeve. “I- I really do. You have no idea.”

“Obi-Wan?” You say softly, even though you were alone you spoke in a hushed tone like someone would possibly hear.

“Yes?”

“I feel- I feel like that about you,” you admit, unable to look at him in case he was to reject you. You knew you shouldn’t- you both did. The feelings you held for him were too strong for you to suppress. You had two hopes, perhaps he would feel the same or he would talk you into reason.

You never imagined he would confess he felt the same. You also never imagined that he would lean over and place a quick kiss on your lips as a response, just overcome with the relief to know you felt the same. It was the first kiss either of you ever experienced.

How desperately he wanted to just pull you into his arms now. Despite the room of people, and the very important conversation he should be engaging in- his focus is solely on you. Anakin nudges him when a Senator directs a question their way and he tries his best to answer. He felt Anakin’s struggle to maintain a professional stature and Obi-Wan knew after the meeting his apprentice would be unable to hold back his comments.

The meeting went on for ages, and Obi-Wan just felt uneasy the entire time. When the meeting adjourned, he wasn’t sure how to approach you. You and the Senator you accompanied lingered like many others to chat. Anakin, before Obi-Wan could even think of what to do, confidently walked over to you as soon as the senator you were speaking to walked away.

“Master (Y/L/N),” Anakin said, “I don’t know if you remember me. Anakin Skywalker- I was a Padawan at the Temple right before you left on your mission. I’m sure you remember my Master, Master Kenobi.”

“I do remember you,” you say with a smile, looking between the young apprentice and the man who loved. You tried your best to remain civil, and you clearly sensed the amusement of young Skywalker at your and Obi-Wan’s discomfort. “You’ve grown up quite a bit.”

“That was the plan,” Anakin jests, “I’m going to say hello to the Senator Amidala.” And just like that, it left the two of you to face each other for the first time in years.

“Obi-Wan,” you say breathlessly, finally allowing yourself to address him. He looked amazing. He’s traded his braid for a beard, and he looked so distinguished. He always held himself with pride but now he looked the part of a Jedi Master- with an apprentice!

“I’m so happy to see you again,” he says with a smile, one that was clouded with an undertone of sadness. “How long will you be staying in the city?” He asks.

“Just for a few days and then I am returning back to Alderaan,” you reply. “If you have the time, I’d love to catch up?”

“I’d like nothing more,” Obi-Wan says, making you smile. You hated that the first time seeing him is in a place where you can’t just collapse in his arms and just immediately make up for the years away from him. You didn’t even know if he still felt the same as you did. You never stopped loving him. He had promised you the same all those years ago, but you were not expecting him to still hold those same feelings. You both committed yourselves to the Jedi Order and you cannot expect him to go back on those terms you both must adhere.

“Tonight?” You ask, hopefully.

“Tonight,” he confirms. He wanted nothing more than to leave this conference room. Sweep you away from the politics and the mess of the galaxy, to express his undying love and how the time apart just made him long for you. He’d pull you into him and beg you to return to the Temple with him so you could be in his life again.

“You should reign in that apprentice of yours,” you joke, looking over at Anakin with Senator Amidala, “You looked at me the same way,” you say, turning back to him. He chuckles, looking over at the two of them. “So anyways,” you say quickly, before he can respond to your observation, “I’m going to be staying at the Temple while I’m here, I suppose I’ll see you both there later on?”

“Yes, undoubtedly,” Obi-Wan answers. “I hate to leave, but I need to reign in my apprentice.”

“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up,” you say nonchalantly.

“I’ll make sure to find you when we return,” he says, before heading towards Anakin and Senator Amidala.

You sigh, and begin your goodbyes, parting ways with the Alderaan Senator for the day. You start your journey back to the Temple, with Obi-Wan being the only thing on your mind.

Part Two

[babbushka]

Next Time

Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Outlaw!Reader (Wild West AU)

2.2k ; Content Warnings: Mentions of scars, NSFW (Masturbation [Kylo jerking off], leather kink, scent kink/turned on by smells, mild praise kink)

Kinktober Masterlist || Available on AO3

                                                    --------------------

Sparkling blue waters, crystalline and deep. Kylo stares into them, into the ancient bend in the canyon there, and lookin’ back at him his reflection blinks. The water’s so still that it looks like it’s supposed to be made of glass, smooth and delicate. That ain’t no river, Kylo thinks to himself when he wades in, can’t be. No, surely it must be some kinda mirage out in the Arizona desert, a place like this couldn’t be real.

When the water ripples around your naked body just some feet away, he’s pretty damn sure you couldn’t be real neither.

You’re bathin’ there in the river. It was your idea, had been your idea to wash the clothes and scrub your hair. Kylo sure as shit wasn’t about to go complainin’ for nothing – he couldn’t remember the last time he had the time for a decent scrub. He had a small brick of hard lye and castor oil soap in his hand, but even that had been tossed at him by you.

You, what a damn woman you are. He’d never seen nothin’ or nobody like you. The way you look at him with disdain and trepidation makes his dick hard, and he tries desperately to think of something else, anything else, as he moves further into the river. He’s naked just as you are, and though he’s seen plenty of breasts in his day, he ain’t about to go gettin’ himself shot by bein’ too casual and lookin’ at yours.

Almost as if you can read his mind, your voice rings from the few feet away where you’re standin’. You’re a little father upstream and Kylo finds that he don’t mind the dirty water eventually comin’ down to him. Something about it feel precious, that water, knowing it has cleansed you and in turn will cleanse him too.  

“Are you lookin’?” You ask, although – and now Kylo could be wrong about this like he is so often wrong about things like this – you don’t sound defensive, or angry. Just curious.

“No.” Kylo says. He almost wants to say ma’am, but he bites his tongue. He knows you don’t like to be called that, and he doesn’t want to offend or upset.

“Do you want to?” You speak so softly that Kylo almost misses it, probably would’ve done so if the breeze hadn’t carried your voice to his ears.

He turns to face you, and there you are.

Standing in the waist-deep water with your tits out, nipples hardening from the chill of the river, hair tousled ever so gently by the breeze. You’ve got the sun on your freshly soap-scrubbed skin, and Heaven help him, but Kylo thinks you really must be some kinda angel, glowin’ at him like that.

You don’t move, and neither does Kylo. As he takes you in, he lets you do the same, lets you see the scarred muscles he keeps hidden under his shirt. He knows he’s got a lot of ‘em, but he ain’t too embarrassed or shy – they’re battle wounds most of ‘em, and the others, well. They were part of him one way or another, and he wasn’t about to go hidin’.

You show him all of you, standing there in the river. He’s not got the want to do anything other than the same.

Hesitantly, he takes a step towards you. He’s askin’ for permission in this silent way, a hand outstretched. You’re dispistoled, so you can’t go takin’ his other eye out, and that makes him hopeful, makes him bold. Surely you’d have an inklin’ of trust for him if you’d go out into the water without your gun.

Maybe more than an inkling, Kylo hopes beyond hope, when you bite at the inside of your cheek so hard you’re sure to be bleedin’, and begin wadin’ through the water to him. Eagerly, he moves to join you, the two of you meetin’ in the middle and suddenly, Kylo’s restin’ his forehead against yours. His shoulders are hunched over just a bit from it, but he don’t mind, not when he gets to see you this close.

He ain’t so sure he’s ever really seen a woman’s face this close before.

You don’t say anything, you’re not really one to say much, Kylo has started to learn. He wonders what secrets you’ve got locked behind those angel eyes, wonders if you’ll tell him one day. It’s gonna take a real long time to get to Colorado, maybe you’ll tell him.

He’d tell you his, he’d tell you everything.

But you ain’t sayin’ nothin’ now, and Kylo doesn’t know what to do, so he says the first stupid thing that comes to mind.

“I like the way your leather smells…when you’ve been ridin’ all day.” He doesn’t break his gaze from yours, lookin’ from your left eye to your right with the only one he’s got left.

“What’s it smell like?” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep breath, a steady breath. It’s a challenge in some way, but he don’t know what.

Kylo breathes in too, breathes in time. He can still smell it on you, the leather. There’s so much of it that you wear – your boots, your gloves, your chaps around your legs. Even your holster is made of it, and all of it, every damn piece, swirls and curls up into his nostrils whenever you’re close to him like this. Well, you ain’t never been this close to him, but that ain’t the point.

“Like sweat, the earth.” He replies, his dick twitchin’ about it, about thinkin’ of the way it must feel so supple and hot against your skin. He’s jealous for a moment, jealous of your holster. He wants to be tucked against your thigh, on your hip. “It smells warm, like it’s still alive. It smells like you.”

“And what do I smell like?” You stare at him seriously, it’s a challenge, it’s a test. He never did so well at those in school for the five years he went, but this was much more important that letters ever were.

“I – I don’t know.” He admits, heart pounding in his ears.

“Do you want to find out?” You whisper, eyes wide with fear of somethin’, maybe rejection. Kylo doesn’t know. You don’t give very much away.

A falcon soars overhead, it’s call cryin’ out and echoing through the canyons, and he whispers, “Please.”

 Your hand smooths up his chest, feeling each and every ridge of the scars that he’s covered in. You blink hard and fast, chin pinching in. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t want to ruin this, to break this spell. You’re so generous, and he doesn’t want you to think him ungrateful. That hand’o yours moves up up up, around his shoulder, his neck, fingers weavin’ into the hair at the base of his skull.

When you push his head closer towards you, push it down a little so that he can rest his forehead on the crook of your neck, he goes so quickly, carefully. He takes in a deep breath and oh, damn do you smell good. Even with the soap, even with all of the scrubbin’, there’s still an undeniable scent of you, of the leather.

It’s tanned and salted, he can smell it, can feel it in the back of his throat. In his mind’s eye, he can picture the way it hugs your body when you’re ridin’, can visualize how those chaps of yours fit nice and snug where they’re supposed to, how your holsters wrap around your body in ways he can only dream of.

He gets so turned on by it, by these big gulps of air against your skin that he’s takin’, that Kylo doesn’t realize at first that his dick’s pushin’ against your stomach. He doesn’t realize until your hand is closin’ around it, and his eyes fly open, worried that he’s upset you.

“Your cock’s hard for it?” You lick your lips, voice that same kinda curious as it was before.

“Yes.” He says immediately, hatin’ how raw and rough his throat feels. He’s thirsty, so thirsty, just by bein’ near you. All the blood from his brain’s gone down to his dick, he can feel it pulsin’ thick and hot in your hand under the cool water.

“For me or the leather?” You whisper, but you don’t give him time to answer, instead makin’ him groan in the back of his throat when you say, “You can take care of it, if you’d like. If’n you need to.”

Releasing his dick, Kylo groans at the loss. His hand replaces yours, but damn it felt so much better when it was you. His face is still tucked into the crook of your neck, and he’s still breathin’ you in, breathin’ in the smell of that leather, of your body as he begins a slow stroke over his cock.  

He grunts a little, speedin’ up when he feels like he needs it, twisting over the head of his dick and swipin’ through the slit with his thumb. Kylo’s breath comes in a little faster, puffs of hot air against your throat where he can nearly feel your pulse thrummin’.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice wobbly with how he’s workin’ at his dick, jerkin’ himself off. You’re right there, your lips are right there, and he’d bet every dollar that he ever stole, that your lips were sweeter than the sweetest wine.

“No.” You shake your head, and he sucks in a sharp breath, the rejection stinging – but not stinging enough to make him discouraged. It’s a playful no, if still a no. As Kylo’s hand speeds up still, back and forth back and forth, Kylo counts his graces that you haven’t shot him yet. You seem to think something over, and eventually the hand in Kylo’s hair redirects his face to a better angle and you say, “But you can taste me. Come on cowboy, taste me.”

Immediately Kylo’s tongue is pressin’ against your pulse. He moans outright, his hips bucking up into his fist, shoulders curlin’ in on themselves so they can press him closer to you. Your breasts hang beautifully and brush against him, as your other arm curls around his waist.

He opens his good eye and looks down, watches how his cock is curved up in the small space between your bodies. His knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach with each stroke, and he grunts and groans and moans and drools against your neck as he laps up the taste of your salty sweat, stealin’ peeks at how if you’d let him, he’d come all over your chest.

You taste like the leather, like the earth. You taste like heaven and the moon and the stars and everything in between, and it makes Kylo’s mouth water. He wants to kiss you, but he will not refuse this gift he’s been given, and so he kisses your throat, your shoulder. He laps you up, fucks his fist there under a powder blue sky.

“Angel, oh – ughn, that’s good.” He moans, voice gravelly and deep, the back of his throat clickin’ with want.

“I’ve got you.” The hand in his hair cards soothingly, sweetly, and Kylo whines, tears springin’ up in his eyes. He blinks them away, tries not to let you see with how he shoves his face further against your neck, his nose inhalin’ you, his tongue tastin’ you.

“Mmm, ah, ah,” He shudders as he spills over his hand, his fingers blockin’ it so it don’t go arcin’ up onto you or nothin’.

You just got clean after all, he don’t want to go dirtyin’ you up again. He comes onto his fist, eyes shuttin’ tight tight tight as he lets out a long breath. He can taste you on his tongue, your sweat. He knows that soon you’ll dunk yourself back down under the water and the trace of his touch will be gone, but Kylo thinks there ain’t enough baths in the world that could scrub off the way you make him feel.

“Fuck.” He sighs, wincin’ at how indelicate that sounds, but you only chuckle.

“Hm?” You don’t step away from him yet, you don’t go nowhere. You stay close, right there, close enough that he can smell that leather, smell the soap, smell you.

“Probably shouldn’t’ve done that in the water we’re supposed to drink.” Kylo grumbles, not knowing what else to say. He can’t say what he really wants to, not now, not so soon. You’d kill him for it, probably, so he says this instead.

You give him a strange look, like something between amusement and suspicion.

“I’ve already filled the canteens, but the current will take it.” You say matter-o-factly, before finally untanglin’ your arms from his body and walkin’ back to where you’ve left your brick of soap on a rock juttin’ out of the river. You’re so matter of fact, that Kylo’s taken off-guard by the way you toss over your shoulder, “Next time aim somewhere else.”

He turns his gaze to the sky, not a cloud in sight, and prays to his lucky stars that are out there somewhere, that he lives to see a next time.

[sweetestlamb]

Rain On Me

A Motel Smut Fic 

Summary: The rumbling of the engine vibrates through her exhausted body, the fatigue from her aimless walk now catching up with her as she clings to the wide span of his torso. The rain leaves his thin cotton shirt plastered to the coiled muscle of his abdomen, those enticing abs she had only seen a glimpse off are tight and compact beneath her weather worn digits. 

Author's note: Sorry that this took a while, life has been a bit busy in the best way. I’m very excited to see so many others joining the fandom and writing fanfiction though, glad to be able to read stories from talented writers! I hope you guys enjoy this one, I had a harder time than usual with this smut, and the pov switches a few times because MY and GT had a lot to say and I just followed their lead. I can never write smut without a tinge of emotions so please excuse the excessive inner thoughts and inner monologues, I initially planned on just starting with the sex but I just love a build up. * Plays Ashanti’s “Rain On Me” 

Thank you for the beautiful header @essantial​ you’re the absolute best! 

The rumbling of the engine vibrates through her exhausted body, the fatigue from her aimless walk now catching up with her as she clings to the wide span of his torso. The rain leaves his thin cotton shirt plastered to the coiled muscle of his abdomen, those enticing abs she had only seen a glimpse off are tight and compact beneath her weather worn digits.

She hasn't the vaguest idea where he intends to bring them but she knows she'll follow him wherever he leads. Her heart had spattered to a stop just like the motorcycle's rumbling engine when she saw him approaching, his face chiseled and undeniably beautiful under the hard cascade of precipitation pouring from the skies. She'd never had a knight in shining armor, never had anyone try to protect her. She was hard, jagged and sharp, lashing out and wounding others before they could get close enough to harm her.

Yet.

There he'd been. Coming to save her even after snapping at her like a viper, acid dripping from the tip of his tongue as he crushed her under his foot like the empty can he'd compared her to. She had been too shocked to respond, to retaliate, to defend herself.

There was also that little voice that had awakened in her mind, advising her to think before she acted, a voice that frustratedly sounded like the very person who she itched to lash out at. The irony of her situation was not lost on her. He was both the one who tormented her and soothed her.

Ergo, she'd let his words slash her skin, hot tears boiling in her eyes as he rejected her once again. She hated herself for how devastated his words had left her, what he declared was no different from the thoughts that plagued her mind already. Was she just an empty can with no feelings? Loud and clattering, merely a hindrance to others who needed to be avoided at all cost? Was her father justified for squeezing the air from her lungs? If she had succumbed to death's inevitable call would she be doing the world a favor?

But, he had come to rescue her, and by extension of his act did that mean she was worth saving? Worth living?

"Get off. We're here." His curt words abruptly drag her back from her rumination, as he begins to slide off the bike, trying to pry her cold fingers from his immense warmth. "Let go." She tightens her hold fearing that if she releases he will abandon her, leaving her cold and alone. With a strong swipe he breaks her tight grip on his soaked shirt and stands up, long legs unfurling from their bent position on the bike.

"Come on."

He walks away before she obeys his direct command, and that's when she realizes where "here" is, a brightly lit motel, fluorescent light blinding in the dark fog left by the rain. After a slight pause, she hops off the bike following him through the glass door into the motel, the heat surrounds her almost immediately, her soaked body shivering underneath his sweater- the knight's armor.

The motel clerk perks up at their entrance, pushing the magazine he'd been reading to the side before welcoming them, "Hello, how can I help you?" His voice is inviting, much like a vendor selling goods on the streets.

Gang-tae flounders at the innocuous question, as she rolls her eyes, he routinely claims she's impulsive and needs to take time to think things through, yet he is the one that sped out on a motorcycle during a storm and now brought them to a motel only to act like a deer in headlights when asked a simple question.

She doesn't save him, watching him raptly along with the motel clerk. Curious about what he'll say next. Seconds pass as they both watch him awaiting an answer before finally, he solemnly turns to her, "Get a room here and wait out the rain. I'll ride home."

His words cut her like the blade of a sharpened knife, his presence was merely temporary, he'd had no plans of remaining with her, she was simply something to save and capriciously toss away before forming any attachment, insignificant. Anger and shame simmer in the pit of her churning stomach.

Poison curls around each syllable in her words, "I didn't ask you to bring me here, I was fine walking in the rain!" She spins around, with the full intention of marching right back into the rain and walking until her body is numb, longing to feel nothing and become the empty can he believes her to be.

His hand on her wrist halts her motion, "Stop being stubborn! You can't go back out there, it's too dangerous! Are you that fearless to travel outside in this weather by yourself? What if something happened to you and I wasn't there to--"

Her eyes widen at his shouted concerns, his grip on her wrist is hard as steel as his eyes pierce into her soul. Who is he to look at her like that and say those words to her? As if he cares about her.

She explodes.

Snatching her wrist from his hand she bulldozes into his space, eyeing with satisfaction as he retreats as she looms closer, one step forward, one step back.

"Why do you care if I'm out in this rain? Who cares if I put on a strip show outside like a crazy woman?" His eyes minutely twitch at the suggestion, something almost possessive flashing for only a second.

She misses it as her rant continues, "Are you angry? Does it bother you? Do you like me? Do you think you can handle it!" She barks each question into his face, until they collide with the machine, lights blaring in their sight, the crash from her hand slamming on its surface deafening in the otherwise silent hall.

It is dead quiet, only the sound of their breaths filling the air.

"Well? Why aren't you answering? I want to know how you're feeling, I can't tell. Maybe it's because I'm a empty can." She states spitefully, watching regret swirl in the dark pools of his eyes, his wet rain curled fringe only distracting her for a split second.

She shows no mercy, mockingly pressing on, "Why are you being so quiet? Are you an empty can too?"

Despite the clear difference in their height, he shrinks under her wrath, cowering under the weight of the carefully placed venomous words.

"I...I..." He stutters out, incomplete sentences dangling in the air, she watches as his eye dart across her face before he looks over her shoulder and suddenly turns a fiery scarlet hue. His cheeks lighting up like a wildfire. He pushes past her arm cornering him in and she spins around to continue her tirade.

Before her eyes land on the motel clerk, shiny foiled contraception hanging from the tips of his fingers, mischievous smirk on his face.

"She'll take a room." He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and slamming down an indiscernible amount of money on the table.

The clerk begins to rattle off information about the quality of his "steamy hot" rooms and all the features available, mirrored rooms, costumes, handcuffs, and even a hot tub. She hears almost none of it, still stuck on his statement, she'll take a room.

The motel clerk passes the room key, glimpsing at them both, eyes pointedly lingering on Gang-tae as if trying to converse with him with just the shifting of his pupils, before mouthing, stay with her.

She doesn't give him a chance to answer, reject her again, he has hurt her enough today to last a lifetime.

The rolling sound of the zipping descending is loud as she pulls it down the length of her body, tugging the jacket swiftly from her body, ignoring the immediate chill that stabs her skin, shivers rushing through her body. Vehemently she throws the sweater at him, watching as he jumps back from the soaked material before his eyes land on her throat. He gasps at the sight.

She knows what he's seeing, can feel her father's hands still curled around her throat bruising the tender skin and marking her a monster. Something to be passionately murdered, snuffed out of existence.

If that was his sole purpose for coming she didn't need his fucking pity.

Snatching the key she storms off, absently listening as the clerk directs her to the location of her room. She strides down the winding maze of the hall, following the signs as they guide her until she sees her room door, 1J. Finally, she approaches the door, key already in hand.

Only to be stilled by a hand on her shoulder, twisting around in shock she's rendered speechless by the face that greets her.

She's never seen this man in her life but his smarmy smile instantly puts her on edge. A gold tooth glints back at her when his mouth curls up in a salacious grin, "What's a pretty little thing like you doing here all on your lonesome? You look like you could use some company." He boldly moves into her space, openly perusing her like goods, her skin crawls under his appraisal, her black undergarments peeking through the soaked white of her dress.

The desire to cover herself is colossal.

"Don't touch me." She shoves him away, snarling at his audacity, homicidal thoughts surging in her mind as she contemplates removing her shoe and bludgeoning him until he's an unrecognizable pulp on the dingy carpeted floor. 

He chuckles at her refusal, "Don't be like that. You should know that girls that look like you only come here for one reason. Don't play hard to get. I have money." He proudly pulls a few crumpled bills from the dark crevice of his pants, his hands encroach closer, intending to slip the money into the top of her dress.

She recoils from his grubby hands, voice raising with indignation and horror, "You think I'm a whore?! And you think you can pay for me with this measly amount of money? Get away from me you loser, use your hand like you have been all your life!" Her voice echoes off the walls and she watches the smirk melt off his face, giving way to pure distinguishable rage.

"You bitch! I'll show you your place!" His hand draws back, open palm flying toward her face. She stands still expecting the fire that will ignite on her cheek.

Only it never comes.

Her eyes which screwed shut in anticipation of the impact, flutter open only to see his broad back covering her completely. His hands are wrapped tightly around the wrist of the man, twitching in his grip as the man sputters out, "Who are you? Let go of me! This is none of your busine--aahh!!" He screams dropping to his knees as the pressure on his wrist increases, pain etched in every wrinkle of his putrid face.

"Okay! Okay! I'm sorry, please let go. You're breaking my wrist, please!" The man pleads on the floor, pulling at Gang-Tae's hold, unable to pry even a finger loose, she watches as he squeezes even tighter, his own white knuckles standing out starkly against the burnt red of the man's wrist.

Then finally he releases him. Tosses his hand away with a short cry, when he speaks his voice is crushed glass, "Get out of here." The man clutches his tender flesh to his chest before scrambling away, too terrified to even look back at them as he runs away.

He turns to her with a penetrating glare, "Why are you standing in the hallway looking like that? Come let's go inside." He motions at her body at his first inquiry, eyes struggling to avoid her tempting figure that can be seen through the almost transparent dress.

She remains still, baffled by his sudden appearance before turning to open the door and watching dazedly as he enters the room, dragging her alongside.

She'd unaware of the internal battle that had raged his brain after her departure, his eyes had followed her longingly as she moved further and further away before disappearing out of his sight. He couldn't deny the fear that raked through his bones, yearning to protect her, he'd tried to leave only to stomp back in to the annoyingly cheerful smile of the motel clerk. Defeated, he'd asked for a second key and followed her down the hallway, only to see red and then black. His reaction had been visceral, immediate and uncontrollable. He'd yearned to beat that bastard to a unrecognizable pulp for daring to touch her.

Thinking of what would have happened had he not been there makes his skin crawl. He can't leave her alone in a place like this with suspicious characters like that lurking around every corner.

Despite his best efforts he couldn't stop the pull that she had on him, his body dragged into her powerful orbit. He watches her beautiful face, expressionless as she gazes at him, none of that fire that's usually directed his way. His eyes soften at the red markings that decorate her otherwise blemish free silken skin. His anger flares again.

"What are you doing here? I thought you left." Never one to stray away from a confrontation, she immediately begins her interrogation. Eyes narrowing into dangerous slits, tracking his every movement for signs of deceit.

At a lost at how to answer, he simply stands there, their eyes locked in a battle that has been fought many times since they crashed into each other's lives.

"I don't need your pity." She bites out, snarling at him.

Her fury ignites his own, "Good. You won't get any from me. I brought you here so I should stay. That's all."

Her eyes scream liar, liar, liar as they pierce into him but she doesn't question him any further. Stomping off to the what must be the bathroom before slamming the door shut. He sighs a short breath of relief before collapsing into the bed.

Without her there to distract him he openly glances around the room, cheeks burning when he notices what exactly he has willingly walked into. The entire ceiling is smooth clear glass, streak free and crystalline shiny. His own embarrassed face stares back at him, his lips opened in a small oh.

Something fuzzy and pink catches his attention in the reflection at the head of the bed, he turns to see what it is before flinching away in surprise. He falls off the bed during his jolt, butt plummeting into the floor.

His brains tumbles before resettling.

Hand cuffs. A pair of hand cuffs are attached to the metal bar of the bed post, one half closed as the other lays open in a fluffy pillow. He's only asked for a basic room, nothing special, his exact words. Yet there is nothing ordinary about this room. He mentally curses the motel clerk, that presumptuous instigator, he'd give him a piece of his mind when they left.

All the blood rushing to his head distracts him from hearing Mun-yeong's return. Steam wafts from the bathroom, completing her dramatic entrance, his heart thumps into his chest violently as he watches her step through the steamy fog.

God damn it.

Her long raven hair spills over a naked shoulder, wavy and damp, clinging to her skin as she approaches the bed. The only thing protecting her dignity is a comically small towel, barely reaching the middle of her thigh, putting miles of bare skin on display, her legs smooth and long, skin gleaming in the dim light.

His tongue is heavy and dry in his mouth as he gapes at her.

He juts his head up at the ceiling only to groan in frustration when her equally enticing reflection greets him. Stammering out, "Yah! Put--put some clothes on. You can't.... can't just leave the bathroom with a towel on!"

She smirks, "Why are you getting so worked up? You saw my clothes they're soaking wet, I couldn't put that back on. This towel was my only option, unless you preferred I came out naked." Her perfectly plucked eyebrow lifts at the provocative suggestion, he adamantly tries to obliterate all images of that very vision that rush to his mind. Other regions of his body similarly taking an interest with this conversation.

He doesn't respond to her obvious teasing remark. Primarily because he is overwhelmed, not used to being this turned on. He can't even deny that reality, not as the heat between his legs begins to perk up in interest, ignored for far too long.

Terrified he glances back at her, finding her enraptured in the ceiling , winking and smiling at her reflection, oblivious to his plight. Gratitude and relief both dance in harmony across his skin, he uses the diversion to quietly scamper to the bathroom. The door closing signaling a much needed reprieve. He lets out a sigh as he presses his head to the door, the wood cool against his hot face. In and out, in and out. He centers himself, tugging the strings of control back into there rightful place. Feeling the desire that bloomed in his loins fissure away until only smoke remains in its destruction.

Seeing her undergarments carelessly strewn across the floor almost undoes all the carefully constructed walls he built but he closes his eyes and hops into the shower, willing himself to think of nothing.

He did the best he could to wring the excess water from his clothes before dejectedly dragging the wet cold material back onto his now shower warm skin.

It's not the best solution but it is unthinkable to exit the bathroom in only a towel, knowing that she would be donning as little as well. If they were both in towels, it would be bad. Catastrophic, even.

He gives himself a pep talk sitting on the towel, praying for control and Mun-yeong's deep slumber that will last the remainder of the night. 

His second wish is not granted as he opens the bathroom door, stopping in his tracks at the inexplicable scene.

Her lips are sealed around something plastic held between her fingers, she blows into the object and it expands in her hands, he notices the phallic shape before realizing that she's blowing the condoms like balloons.

Where did she get condoms?

Why does she have condoms?

Why was she blowing them up like erotic balloon animals??

He sputters out, flailing his arms, "Wha--What are you doing?"

With a final puff of moist air, she pulls her lips away from the condom, tying it off and looking at him nonchalantly, "You were gone for a long while, I got bored." She shrugs, "Plus we won't be needing any condoms tonight."

Disappointment drops like lead his his stomach at her statement, he should be happy, should nod in agreement and be thankful that they are on the same page, she will not be seducing him or tempting him to lose control.

Good.

Great.

Fantastic.

His heart shouts liar liar liar as he tries to convince himself.

"I'm on birth control so we don't need these getting in the way. I want to feel every inch of you, I don't want anything in between us." She calmly detonates a bomb on him, all while undressing him with her eyes and leaving every little to his imagination in her attire. Tossing the condom to the side to land with all the others she has blown up. 

"I told you to stop. Stop saying things like that to me."

"Hypocrite. You're the one who brought me to a motel, you're the one that got jealous in the hallway, you're the one who came out in a storm to rescue me. Your actions scream as loud as my words. You want this too. You want me. Just admit it."'

Admit it.

His head is spinning from her accusation, his behavior has been nothing but confusing to him as well since the moment he raced out on the motorcycle, but hearing her lament everything so concisely forces him to face the truth. He had been the one to seek her out. Impetuously, searching for her as soon as he heard what happened, unable to stop himself from reacting. Why did she have this affect on him? What was it about her that called out to him so strongly? Why couldn't he control himself when she was involved?

All questions he wasn't ready to hear the answers to.

She wasn't wrong, he was a coward.

Wordlessly he sways to the bed, needing something solid to keep him afloat in the ocean of his thoughts.

The red circling her neck grabs his attention again and he whispers, "Are you okay? Does it hurt?"

Different emotions swirl in the haunting eyes and he fears she'll lash out at his question, coldly banishing it as the pity she shouted she didn't want from him.

She never does what he expects.

A humorless grin spreads across her face, "I'm alive. I'm fine. This wasn't the first time and it probably won't be the last. That man hates me and the feeling is mutual. You know what's funny, you're the first person to ask me if I'm okay. All of your little nurse friends just watched as he tried to kill me. Isn't that funny?"

It isn't funny. His hands clench in ire thinking about her gasping for life on the ground as no one came to her aide. Unable to fathom how her own father could be so cruel.

"That shouldn't have happened to you."

She looks at him dispassionately, fight leaving her eyes and her shoulders sagging.

"All monsters must die. Didn't you say that people like me should be avoided? Don't you think he was trying to do the world a favor by killi--"

"Shut up." He slams his hand over her mouth, rolling cross the expanse of the bed until they are a mere inches apart.

"You said you didn't want pity. So stop pitying yourself. What happened was wrong and you didn't deserve that."

Her eyes desperately search his face again, as she looks up at him, finding what they're looking for before he sees the sadness bleed from her eyes leaving room for something better, brighter.

It's only when her eyes shift to his lips that he realized how close they are.

Too close.

Moving his hand off her lips, he starts to lean back, scurrying back to safety. But she moves with him, towel shifting down with her upward movement, precariously close to falling and his eyes grow larger in fear.

Suddenly their positions are swapped and he's gazing up at her hovering over him, dark curtain of her hair tumbling over her shoulder and cocooning him. He aches to run his fingers through the locks.

"I don't want pity. But I do want your desire. You're looking at me like you want to eat me alive. Do it. Give me that."

His body constricts at the demanding request, shaking his head in arbitrary refusal, disregarding the heat and want that swells like a wave at her words.

"No. No... We shouldn't. I can't. Just go to sleep."

She brushes a hand through the wet fringe that frames his forehead, sliding through the wet locks, "You look delectable with your hair like this. I have to admit though, seeing you racing to come save me. I was quite smitten."

Pride unfurls in his chest.

Then she steals his breath.

The kiss isn't sudden or spontaneous, she smiles at him, a gorgeous smile that transforms her face from pretty to breathtaking, before she becomes to lean down, her eyes locked on his lips leaving no need for speculation. Her intentions couldn’t be clearer. 

He has ample time to move, reject her once again and only allow himself to have her in small manageable doses. Being around her is far more addicting than any drug.

He is too weak to follow through. 

The kiss is soft, softer than he expected from someone as unrestrained as her. Her hands are gentle on his face, caressing his cheeks as she presses her insistent lips into his. The kiss is nothing like he expected and thus it is perfect.

Just a kiss. He'll allow only one kiss. That should be enough to sate his hunger for her.

She starts to deepen the kiss, tongue poking at the tight seal of his mouth impatiently, then her fingers trail under his now slightly damp shirt, nails raking at the muscle that lays hidden, his mouth falls open at the new sensation. Wasting no time she licks into his mouth, moaning when she finally gets a taste of him. He suppresses an answering groan, light-headed as she overwhelms his sense, her scent and her taste coiling around him in an impenetrable wall.

He losses himself in the kiss, riding the high of finally tasting that mouth that has tormented him for too long. Letting her tongue swirl in his mouth, sinuously dancing with his own, until his lungs are burning .

When she begins to push his shirt further up his torso, baring his stomach, he jumps away from her touch and ultimately breaking their wet connection. Grabbing her wrists in his own shaking hands, he halts her movement, taking a deep measured breath.

"That's enough. I.... can't."

His control shudders at the sight of her above him, her eyes begin to slide open slowly as she falls back to earth, the passion that pours out from those eyes is enough to knock him off his high horse, her lips are kiss swollen and rosy wet, teasing him, tempting him. Her face is flushed as she pants, minty breath landing on his face with every exhale.

"Aren't you tired?" The tone of her voice is exasperated, at his bewildered expression she continues, "Of lying to yourself? Doesn't it get tiring never getting what you want?"

You're just a kid who wants to be loved.

I know you want to have fun.

She's the only one able to see right through him, reading him like he's an open book with pictures and startling him with her apt analysis, another reason he knows he should stay away from her, she will be his undoing, untimely demise.

"You want this. Tell me otherwise." She demands.

He wills his mouth to open and do what she says, deny his desires and sever this moment, the glint in her eyes informs him that this will be her final request, answer wisely.

He lays frozen, words lost in the jumble of his mind. Moving too fast for him to pluck them out and form a coherent sentence. Then she begins to move away, taking her delicious heat with her and his hand flies out instinctively, grabbing her towel covered waist his brain screaming no.

She stills, narrowed slits glaring down at him. Reading him again. Searching his face before she nods, "Okay. I'll take that control."

Slithering up his body, she catches his lips in another toe curling kiss, harder than before, all tongue and teeth, biting at his lip and demanding entry, he rushes to give it to her, weak at her passionate onslaught. This time he kisses back, wraps his tongue around hers and sucks, drunk on her flavor and ignoring the voice in his head that demands that he stop.

He feels her hands traveling up his chest, brushing on his nipples, before running up his arm and settling on his wrists, she lowers all her weight on him, knocking a shuddering breath from his overexerted lungs. The soft press of clothed breasts on his chest throwing his thoughts off kilter. In a flurry of movement, he feels her tug his wrist with both of her hands, something fuzzy curls around immobilizing him as his eyes snap open.

He pulls and meets resistance.

She draws away from him to watch his reaction, both of their eyes fixated on his wrist. He peers into the ceiling unable to look fully above his head and his pupils dilate as he sees what he already knew, felt on his skin.

Handcuffed.

Just as she promised she'd taken away his control.

A moan escapes his lips. She squirms in response to the sultry sound.

"I found something else when you were gone." She leans to the side of the bed, bending at the waist to retrieve something, rocking into his erection with the motion and he bites his tongue to contain his moan.

With an all knowing grin, she sits up grinding down into his hard length, throwing her head back, long hair whipping over her shoulder, wild and free.

He almost spills from that image, alone.

"Look." She offers what resembles a tiny remote with a cord connected to the bed, light vibrations start to buzz through the surface of the bed as she twists the dial.

The bed trembles and shakes beneath them rocking them along with the waves of vibrations.

"What are you going to do to me?" He whispers, fear and anticipation fighting for domination.

With a shark like grin she replies, "Take you apart and put you back together."

Immediately she sets off on her mission, openly appreciating his body, tongue dragging across her lips as she takes in the alluring vision of him at her mercy. He watches utterly captivated as she runs her hands up her own body, briefly pausing to mold her hands around her breasts, squeezing them and moaning deeply.

His mouth is arid dry, tongue turning to sandpaper at the seductive picture.

Then she tugs at the seal of the towel, loosening its hold, one strong pull is all that is necessary to have it tumbling off her body and cascading to the bed, baring every inch of her body to his ravenous eyes that dart from the soft swell of breasts down to the smooth mound of her naked sex.

Again, she takes herself in hand, pinching at her dark pebbled nipples, groaning at the pain before comforting herself with a gentle swipe of her thumb. His free hand cries out to join her in this endeavor.

"Touch me." Before the words have even settled in the air, she's capturing his free hand and bringing it to her chest, soft, hot, fuck, the only words left in his vocabulary as his hand becomes full of her. After a moment's hesitation, he squeezes the soft flesh in his hands, eyes locked on the tight furl of her nipple. His touch his soft, revered.

In absolute disbelief at the precious gift is he being given.

"Harder." His hand responds to her cry, tightening his hold and viciously tweaking her peak, eyes darkening at the way she rolls along his body, smearing her wetness across the plane of his stomach. He can feel her heady warmth sizzling on his skin, fingers longing to run through the drenched folds and tease her hidden jewel.

"Watch me." He falters at her words, grabbing her waist when she starts to slide off his body, wordlessly begging her to stay. She pushes his hand away smiling at his worry and dismay, laying flat on her back next to him, "Look at me." When he twists his head, wincing at the twinge from the pull of the hard metal on his wrist, he finds her eyes averted to the ceiling, he meets her eyes there.

Entranced as she slowly brings a finger to her mouth, lips wrapping around the digit, she opens her mouth showing him the way her tongue laps and soaks it, before pulling it out with a filthy wet pop. The finger trails down her body, pinching her nipples but their journey continues until they reach her center. He watches her reflection dazed as she uses two fingers to spread her lips open, bringing her feet flat on the bed to give him an optimal view. His heart beat skyrockets pounding in his chest as all the blood rushes to his cock.

With a deep seated moan, she takes two fingers and plunges into her wet center, her puffy lips giving away to the press, widening at the invasion. She shoves in until her fingers disappear into the depth, before dragging them out and fucking back deeply, her voice slices through the white noise sloshing in his brain.

"Gang-tae, I need you."

She fingers herself, in, out, in, out, eyes screwed shut from her pleasure.

He smacks her hand out of the way, control all but decimated, mashed to smithereens,before rubbing across her wet folds her moan setting him on fire before he mimics her movement, showing two fingers into the tight grip of her pussy. His rigid erection jumps at the thought of taking its place, her wet heat wrapping around him.

The vibration of the bed bounces her on his fingers, knocking her back on to his digits every time he withdraws. She bodily rides his hand, "More, more, more." He presses a third finger in, forcing her walls open sighing as the flesh gives under the pressure.

Ramming into her he watches her face twists in pleasure in the mirror, his own lust blown eyes greeting him as he watches her. She grabs her breasts, squeezing them as his fingers plunge into her steadily and powerfully.

Grabbing the reins of his desire he presses a fourth finger into her, his thumb accidentally rubbing across her clit and the most beautiful sight plays out in the mirror. Mun-yeong twists violently on the bed, bucking away from his fingers but he chases her, shoving the fingers back in and purposely massaging at her observing as she falls over the edge, orgasmic screams drawn from her mouth.

Her juices drown his fingers as she quakes apart on the bed, his eyes drink in the sensual sight of her fluttering lips around his soaked fingers.

He slowly drills into her lax hole, lost in her heat before she grabs his wrist. She takes three deep breaths, naked chest rising and laying before she turns towards him, eyes dancing.

"You're a fast learner." He reddens under her open praise. "Your turn."

His turn? She answers his wordless question by crawling into his space, and he's momentarily blinded by her beauty. Her face and body a work of art, all clean lines and soft curves, petite and tight. Her hand tugging at his pants drag him away from his musings.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhh no more talking unless you're saying my name, asking for more or moaning. I already told you what I'm doing tonight."

Taking you apart and putting you back together.

He shudders at her words and then at her daring fingers, tugging his now unbuttoned and unzipped pants off his hip. The cold air slams into his overheated erection, doing nothing to change its stiffness or ardor.

"Beautiful." Dismissing his blush, she grabs him through the soft stretch of his boxers, stroking teasingly from root to tip. Watching a dark stain form at the tip as she massages the head.

She strokes him through the cloth a few more times, avidly tracking his face, "So handsome." She whispers it under her breath, clearly not intended for his ears and he heats up at the open awe in her voice.

Nothing could prepare him for the pleasure that overwhelms him when she extracts his length from its clothed prison. It stands at attention, thick and veiny in her hand, clear fluid pooling at the red tip and spilling down the sides.

The beds vibrations pushes his erection into her grip and he groans twisting his hips up, desperate for her touch. "I got you." The promise laced in her words cause his eyes to water, he's usually the protector no one has ever supported him, he rapidly blinks the tears away shame faced. 

She misses his emotional riposte, her eyes locked on his erection jutting out and almost too thick for her hand to circumvent fully.

Using both hands she strokes him, using the leaking fluid from gathering on his cock to ease her journey, he pants in response, "Please." His pleads fall from his lips, desperation annihilating any reservations that lingered, he's completely on board now watching her burst apart from his fingers ripping the last tendrils of control from his grasp.

She doesn't leave him wanting, eagerly bending her head to pop the tip of his erection into her mouth, lips curling around the tip and swallowing the liquid pooled there.

His toes curl as she hums at the first taste of him on her tongue, vibrations hitting him from both ends now, the bed and her mouth. His head spins from the new sensations, he has never felt anything like this, scarcely even finding comfort in his own hands. Hard to find moments alone while sharing a space with his brother.

She sucks him in ever deeper, his hand slams on the bed, handcuff forcing his body to pull taut as he tries to prevent himself from thrusting into her mouth. It's a fruitless battle, she slurps and bobs on his cock, dismantling him down to a molecular level. Every atom of his body is screaming her name, he doesn't notice when it falls from his tongue, "Ughhh Mun-yeong!"

His cries emboldens her, she loosens her mouth sinking the rest of the length down his erection until her lips are flush against the root. His eyes slam shut, spots bursting behind his closed eyelids, he thrusts up powerfully his cock slipping down her throat and euphoria batters at his brain.

He's powerless as he bursts apart, release shooting into her waiting mouth, expecting her to pull off he's further deconstructed as she happily hums, swallowing each drop as it explodes in her mouth.

The tight suction of her mouth is too much following his release and he weakly tries to pull free, his cock slides out of her mouth, with a final suck of his tip she lets him fall from her mouth.

"Delicious."

Her voice is raspy and rough, the tone causes his dick to twitch feebly.

He feels fatigue begin to form after his earth shaking orgasm, his first with someone else. His eyes drift close as he falls into a deep slumber. He's vaguely cognizant of a wet material wiping across his skin and a blanket being tugged over his now chilled body.

"Rest for now."

He obeys, sleeping finding him easily.

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

She watches him sleep, peaceful for once, all the worries missing from his handsome face. Her body tingles in memory of what they've done. His fingers in her most intimate places, his cum thick and hot on her tongue, his salty flavor still lingering on her tongue. His orgasm had surprised her but it was a pleasant surprise, she had greedily taken everything he had to offer, hungry for more. 

His flaccid cock lays innocently on his thigh now, taunting her, it had been anything but innocent plundering her mouth earlier. She's been watching him sleep for a few minutes, a boom of thunder waking her from her slumber and she'd been unable to fall back into the sandman's clutches.

Instead she watched him sleep, taking in every delicious inch of his body, that gorgeous face with a chiseled jaw and wide inviting lips, his hair curled beautifully from the rain, the wide berth of his shoulders and the solid stretch of his chest which tampers into his narrow waist that is all set atop long thick thighs and legs.

His dick twitches and she glances up to see if he's awake, his eyes are moving rapidly beneath his closed lids, in the throes of a dream it appears.

"Must be a good dream." She ponders as his erection swells under her watchful gaze.

He thrusts up, handcuffs clanging at his sudden movement, as he starts to pump into the air. His lips falling open as he moans incoherently before she hears something that causes her to moisten, "Mun-yeong..."

He's dreaming of her. From the movement of his hips, it's apparent what fantasy he is living out, she shifts next to him, prepared to make it a reality.

Glancing up at the mirror, she ponders her next move before looking at him fucking the air and reaching a decision. She crawls over him, legs straddling his thighs her back to his front, her breasts jiggling in her reflection.

She grinds down onto his upward thrust, his tip catching on her moist folds, hands on his chest she presses back harder, letting his cock run through her wetness, moaning as the head rubs against her hidden bead.

She hears the moment he snaps back into reality, his hand immediately grabbing at her waist, she looks up into the mirror smiling at his glossy eyes that burn a hole in her face.

Before he can ask her asinine questions as he's wont to do, she reaches behind herself, firmly gripping his cock and leans her back onto his shoulder, he watches the stretch of her body as she puts herself on display for his pleasure.

With steady hands, she guides him to her opening, he can see everything in the reflection, her folds glistening as she presses the head in, his eyes slam shut at the feeling.

"Open your eyes. I want you to watch."

Her voice leaves no room for argument. He has no desire to.

He watches as his cock slowly disappears into her wet hole inch by inch, all of the air in his body suspended, she widens her stance as the fattest part of his length pulls at her walls before he feels her loosen and sink onto him, fully. He is drowning in the vision of his cock spearing into her tight heat, he might never breathe again.

The tightest vice around his length, borderline painful.

The continuous vibrations from the bed mildly rocks him into her, but after a pause she draws off, only the tip remaining before slamming back down onto him, the dual sensation of simultaneously watching her sink onto him and feeling her overloads his sense.

She rides him languidly, hips gyrating in dizzying circles as she undulates on his length, his arm shoots out to wrap across her flat stomach, pressing her incredibly closer to him, his abs rubbing against her back. Her back curves into his hold as she plants her feet harder into the bed, her hole spread wide as he pistons into her. Vivid obscene images reflected by the mirror, he can't look away.

He blindly finds her breasts, squeezing and groping at them in turns, pulling and pinching at the taut nipples.

"Gang-tae, harder, deeper." She demands, he rams up into her, length drilling into her spread hole, sinking deeper and deeper, slamming into her so hard that the echoes of his hips meeting her ass cheeks bounce off the walls.

"I'm too close.." He warns her, visages of his dream still plaguing his thoughts, he'd been lost in a fantasy, one of many wet dreams featuring the temptress wild in his arms. They'd been brutally fucking in the rain, cold raindrops sizzling off their skin as he pushed her over the handle of the bike and slammed into her over and over again. Her cries lost under the booming thunder that roared in the skies.

Pleasure beyond his knowledge had dragged him from that scintillating dream, only to be met by an equally enticing reality.

He woke up already on the edge, unprepared for her attack.

She begins to grind faster, reaching one hand down into the hidden depths of her center, rubbing at her clit in perfect synchronization with the motion of their fucking.

Grabbing her impossibly tighter he shoves up, pushing his cock as deep as it can go, her cries music to his ears, as he slams in out in out in out. Her walls clench around him, her fingers a flurry of rapid movement on her bead, he never slows down, driving deeper and faster, until wetness gushes out of her and coats him, her body bows tight into his hold. 

For the second time tonight, his brain oozes out of his dick. Hot load exploding into her depth as his eyes finally leave the mirror and screw close as he rides the wave of his second orgasm. Unable to fight it with her walls squeezing him and demanding that he fill them, fill her up with his cum. 

She collapses onto his body, milking the last drops of his release.

With a deep shuddering breath, she pulls off his softening length, rolling to her side of the bed, pushing her hair out of her eyes, resembling a siren luring men to their doom.

"Wow."

He agrees, holy fuck wow.

Their eyes meet again in the mirror.

"You like watching." It's not a question so he doesn't deign it with a reply. They'd both seen first hand just how much he enjoyed watching.

"Aren't you full of surprises." She preens, slipping from the bed, comfortable in her nudity. His eyes follow her every movement, he could look at her forever.

She disappears for a moment after the flush of a toilet, reappearing with another wet towel, carefully cleaning him once more. It feels oddly intimate despite all they've done tonight, the lines between lust and affection blurring.

He attempts to turn onto his side before remembering the constraint on his wrist, he pulls at it before glancing at her.

"Take these off."

She blinks at him, "Oh. I didn't see a key."

He blinks owlishly in return, "What? You put this on before finding a key!" Voice raising an octave at the tail end of his question, disbelief furrowing his brows and dragging his lips into a hard line.

"I had to. You wouldn't have given in otherwise. It's your fault, you're too stubborn." She scoffs folding her arms defiantly, he tries his damnest not to ogle her naked breasts that are pushed up with the motion.

He fails spectacularly.

"I guess I could go to the front desk and ask for a spare key."

He thinks of her white dress, now transparent from the rain and then her standing in that little towel. Those are the only things she could wear to the front desk and the thought of her walking around in either of those options makes his blood boil. Especially remembering that piece of scum who had tried to assault her.

"No."

"Why not?" She stares at him in confusion.

"I said no." He doesn't elaborate, avoiding eye contact.

With a shrug she cuddles into his side, naked body warm against him.

"Okay I'll keep you locked up like my love slave. " He tries to glare at her but he can't muster up the energy, exhausted, shuffling until he finds a comfortable position with his arm locked over his head, it's not an easy feat but eventually he finds a spot.

Their eyes drift close, exertion catching up with them.

Rain pattering away on the window, thunder rumbling in the distance.

He feels movement next to his head and then a soft press against his lip, fleeting and gone as quickly as it came.

His heart stutters at the implications. He tries not to think, fearing the storm that is brewing between them.

Sleeps finds him unarmed, taking him to a land where they can be together. He dreads the morning knowing he'll have to push her away, erect the fortress that surrounds his heart once more.

He doesn't have the time or luxury to have what he wants.

Moonlight streams in through the window, illuminating the key that lies innocuously on the floor, hidden under their discarded clothes. 

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Meet Emily

Request: this one

Emily x reader. Reader and Emily visit the reader’s very homophobic small town. (I know it’s very random but I’m curious as to how Emily would handle it.) Thanksxx :)

Content warnings: homophobia, cursing, offensive slurs, angst, sexual reference

Emily Prentiss is the love of your life and you're the love of hers. Plain and simple. You have no doubt that she's the woman you want the spend your life with and you certainly aren't ashamed of her or your sexuality. In fact, you show her off, like she deserves, any chance you get. Which is why it's so hard to tell her why you don't want to accept your parents invitation to come back home and reconnect. More specifically, it's hard to tell her why you haven't told your parents about your beautiful, wonderful girlfriend of 8 months. You never got the chance to come out to your parents. You were... found out. When people hear that, they think of two clumsy teenagers experimenting, tangled up in some sexual endeavor. But in reality, they found a diary back in high school about a girl you liked. You were past what happened but the screaming, the slurs, the complete and utter rejection of who you are... That gut wrenching feeling never escaped your heart. A soft hand is suddenly clasping yours and you look up to see Emily smiling at you.

"Hey Y/N, what's wrong?"

You laugh and shake your head.

"Fucking profilers."

"So something is wrong. You can tell me whatever it is baby."

Spitting it out before you can talk yourself out of it, you avoid eye contact and stroke her thumb nervously.

"My parents invited me to go back to my hometown, they- they want to... reconnect. They also said they'd love to meet my significant other if I have one."

Her lovely face softened and she beamed, showing off her plump lips and bright teeth. But like you said before, fucking profilers. She immediately realized it must not be a good thing and her face fell.

"I'm assuming there's bad news too?" She asked in a careful tone, lifting your hand to press a light kiss to your knuckles.

"They found out about me being into girls high school and they weren't thrilled to say the least. Neither was most of my town when word got around." Sighing sadly at the memory you add, "It's the reason I got the hell out come graduation and never looked back."

"Oh darling..." Emily's eyes met yours and you involuntarily let a tear slip down your cheek. You were ready for this. For her to call you pathetic, to be angry, to leave. But she threw your expectations out the door when she finished her sentence. "My mother isn't exactly supportive of my sexual orientation either. And you know what? I say we accept the invitation and show everyone that love is fucking love. And we are madly in it." That gorgeous smile spread across her face again and you flashed one back before pressing a grateful kiss to her lips. She returned it hungrily before pulling away when you mumble against her lips,

"I love you so much Em."

"I love you too Y/N."

Hotch approves the time off and you book a flight to the place you fought so desperately to leave behind, hopeful that this could be a new beginning. Emily soothes your clear nerves on the way there and when you get to your old street, you take a deep breath and turn to look at the amazing woman next to you for a final boost of courage. She curled her midnight hair and chose a white summer dress that accentuates her body perfectly. How could they not love her? Her beauty is breathtaking and once they talk to her? They'll see how funny and smart she is. And you'll definitely brag about all the times she's saved your ass in the field and the people she's put away. Taking her hand in yours and clasping it firmly, you walk up to the house but freeze in your tracks when you see what your parents have in store for you. A welcome back party, with all your homophobic bastard neighbors gaping at you and Emily, the judgement and disgust written everywhere. Your grip on her hand doesn't waver and hers tightens as if to tell everyone "I'm hers and she is mine. And we're both goddamn proud of it." As you make your way to your parents, you can make out the whispers.

"Maybe they're... good friends."

"I always knew little Y/L/N was a dyke."

"That is not right."

"It's disgusting..."

Emily stands up tall while you let your hair fall and cover your face, each step emphasizing more regret at even showing up. She always was the brave one. The badass. She is one hell of a woman. And that's all it takes to remind you that she's so much more important than the close minded pieces of shit that think they can judge what you two have. The words practically scream pride as you greet your parents.

"Hey Mom and Dad. It's good to see you, it was really nice of you to organize this! This is my girlfriend, Emily Prentiss." Emily extends a hand but neither of your parents take it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N, I-"

"Get out."

Your mother's eyes scan the crowd of onlooking, horrified neighbors as if assessing the damage you're doing to her reputation and your father looks at you with undeniable anger.

"Excuse me?" The look on Em's face tells you she's close to chewing them out but you don't give her the chance. No one disrespects your girlfriend. No one.

"Who the hell do you think you are? I came back here because you invited me. And to think, I thought you were going to be more accepting now. I thought just being your daughter was enough to be accepted and loved but I guess fucking not. Wipe that look off your face because Emily is a goddess of a woman and I'm in love with her. I'll shout that from the fucking rooftops without a care in the world because I'm damn lucky to have her. You and all the other assholes in this town can go fuck themselves. I'm glad I can leave this shithole knowing that I told you, you'll never be half the woman Em is. Don't even think about ever calling me again. And to everyone staring at us, this is what love is. Two people who care for each other above all else and you know what? Not a single other person in the world matters. So take a good, hard look at us, especially those of you that are like me ashamed of who you are because of the internalized god awful opinions this crap town has. It'll be okay. Because love is love, regardless of gender. You'll find your Emily one day and no one can take that from you." A smile to yourself is hard to contain because for once around your parents, you're proud to be a woman who loves another woman. (It helps that you happen to have the best woman by your side.) Loud and clear, Emily says with love and adoration,

"That's my girl."

You give her a passionate, desperate kiss and grasp her hair in front of everyone before grinning and leaving the way you came in. This time however, there's no fear or doubt. There's only you and Emily. And of course, the hotel room you booked just in case... you two are definitely putting the bed to good use tonight.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 25 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-four

Title: Take it Back

Words: 5.9K

Summary: The good thing about rock bottom? You can only go up from here.

Warnings: PTSD, rape trauma.

ST Rambles: Hello, my patient, understanding readers. It is great to be posting this tonight. I start the last two weeks of my semester tomorrow and I wanted to have this out before the end of November. Maybe not what you expected, but I hope it sufficed after five weeks. AND it's even a Sunday. Going back to my roots haha.

My final final exam is December 17th and I do not believe I will be doing much writing between now and then or even now and the end of the year. So, if that is the case and I do not end up posting in December - I wish you all a happy holiday season and a bright - hopefully BETTER - New Year.

[MASTERLIST] || BANNER/ @elmidol

The important things are always the most difficult to say; they come with that stomach-churning uncertainty that strikes through your skull and tightens your throat. The moment that first admission comes, though it may be the easiest, there is a lightness to your shoulders that you thought would never return. You knew this. Even so, when you told Mason of the event that preceded your escape from Starkiller, you were a shaking, petrified mess.

Now, sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes bloodshot from two days of crying, you listened to the rhythm of his breath. He was sleeping off the emotional exhaustion you had put him through. The night you had rang his residence had been the worst of it; you could barely speak for those first twelve hours, too preoccupied with thoughts of whatever suffering Kylo Ren had in store for you on Canto Bight, too scared of how Mason would react to the news that you had taken a life.

That second night he had your head pressed to his chest, patience warm in his hold, and you finally felt safe enough to tell him everything – Robbie’s involvement, his trespassing, the violation still singeing your veins. Tears framed every word, an eternal blotch forming on Mason’s shirt. He could take it all, and he did; no question or comment, only a hand stroking your back and cool breath blowing over your ear.

But that was not what you had been afraid to tell him. Of course it wasn’t. The fact that you had endured Robbie’s attack was a preface to words you had only spoken once before, and even then you’d believed they would remain only in your mind. A crushing guilt coiled around your rib cage, Mason shushing your sobs, a bitterness flooding your tongue.

Yes, Robbie had hurt you. Yes, Robbie had raped you. Yes, Robbie had permanently marked your life with the pain he had inflicted. You knew all of these things. They were undeniably true. A part of you, though, loud and overwhelming, was reluctant to let you rationalize your actions. In the hours you had spent in the medbay, and even now in the dark of early morning, you fought back the mentality of a true healer does not kill. A true healer would have found another way.

Staring Mason in the eyes, trying to make out his expression through a bleary view, you told him how you had no choice but to act in defense. Robbie was not going to stop; it was him or you. You told Mason how the lights went out and you clung to a life you were unsure if you wanted, only explaining that the scissors had hit the stormtrooper’s femoral artery with miraculous precision, not including how you felt the body-hot blood spurt across the backs of your hands. There was no mention of how you watched the tile beneath him bloom with crimson, not a word to describe how your skin buzzed when the door slid shut, leaving him to time.

Kylo Ren was nowhere to be found in your recount; Mason, even with the knowledge that you had taken someone’s life, was not ready to hear anything involving his commander or supreme leader. In keeping their involvement in the matter to yourself you were protecting him; Mason would get himself killed if he knew what was hidden beneath his hand-me-down pajamas. It was obvious in the way he would not allow you to be alone during these past two days that you he loved you. And you did love him; not the same as before, but enough to the point where sleeping in his arms was safe, not suffocating.

But even in their safety the nightmares still found you; it was uncertain if they would ever cease, and it worried you to think you were supposed to be broadcast to who knows how many planets in a matter of days. It was surprising that your lunge from the mattress had not woken Mason, a cold sweat encasing your body; he had only shifted, fingers reaching for your now absent form.

If you were relying on his alarm clock – which you were, the watch tight to your wrist still out of commission – it was cusping on three in the morning. These past three nights had supplied the most sleep you had gotten since fainting, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Mason had called out the past few days, explaining to Dr. Soto that he had a family emergency. When you had overheard him speaking on the phone, that detail had heated the tops of your ears. You had stayed in the bubble he’d provided since entering, but you needed to prepare for travel as in less than thirty-six hours you were going to be strapped into a transport ship and headed to your potential demise.

Maybe baselessly, you hoped that Kylo Ren’s quarters would be vacant at this time of day. In an effort to be as quiet as possible, you slipped on your shoes and shrugged into one of Mason’s scrub coats leftover from school. It was navy blue and still smelled of your old simulation lab. Even though he was smaller then, the sleeves crested the tips of your fingers. It was hard to believe Kylo Ren was even bigger than him.

The mattress creaked the moment you stood from it, a grimace tightening your cheeks in fear that you would wake your sleeping friend. But there was no sound to indicate Mason had stirred, and with that you went to look for your keycard. Thankfully one of your nurses had the thought to empty the pockets of your uniform before setting it aside, your Finalizer access key placed with what remained of your personal belongings.

The living area was difficult to navigate without light, the unfamiliar surroundings knocking into your knees and making you hiss curses. And then your heart fell.

Mason spoke your name from the room you had come from, grogginess thick in his voice. “What are you doing? It’s barely three-o-clock.” A light flicked on out of view, Mason stumbling into the room, arms stretched above his head. “You know, I have lights for a reason.”

“Sorry I woke you”—you continued your search—“I was trying not to make any noise, but I’m not used to your layout here.”

Mason shuffled closer. “Nah, it’s okay. I’m glad to see you upright. Just confused why you are at this hour.”

“I’m going to try and get my clothes from my residence. Have you seen my bag? The one I brought with me?”

“I put your bag through the wash,” Mason yawned, sauntering toward a drawer where he pulled out your keycard, “so all you brought is in here.” In the dark you saw a softness in the way he observed you, drawing closer with each step. “You don’t think they’ll hear you out in a pair of my sweats and—” he pinched the jacket’s collar, a smile forming when his eyes met yours “—this piece of history?”

The heat from his hand wafted under your chin, an amused huff leaving your nose. “I assumed you wouldn’t mind me borrowing it.” you took the keycard and pushed it into a pocket. “Thank you for washing my bag, by the way. And for letting me stay here. And for being… understanding. Of things.”

“I don’t want your thanks. We’re there for each other. It’s what we do.” He shook his head, folding his arms around you and pulling tight. “You were defending yourself. I know how you operate. Stop looking for ways to feel bad about this.” You did not respond, eyes closed, breath caught. “You did what you had to. I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe it.”

“Mason, I’m scared. What if I can’t win this thing? What if this is all just for show and the Board is corrupt and I’m just another pawn in the First Order’s game?” You clung to him, swallowing tears.

“You really have no faith in my kickass public speaking skills, do you?”

“You’re not allowed to make me laugh one second after making me cry,” you pouted, smacking his back.

“Maybe I’ll start my testimony with how unthreatening you are.”

“I could take you down, McCarty. We both know that.”

“I’ll also mention how delusional you are.”

“I think that white coat is getting to your head; what’s the basis of your diagnosis?”

Mason rubbed your back once more and pulled away so his fingertips could trail up and down your triceps. “Aside from the fact you think you could beat me in a fight,” a smirk tightened his face, one forming over your own, “you’re going into this with the worst in mind. You’re forgetting how smart you are. How likeable you are.” He swallowed. “You’re going to survive this.”

“And if I do, what then? My license is revoked if I win. What’ll I do with myself?”

Mason’s jaw twitched at its hinge, his eyes flicking between yours, something caught in his throat. His face was riddled with fluid thoughts, yet it was evident there was something holding them back. “We will… figure that out.”

A deep breath dropped your shoulders, time passing in the quiet. “Right now I just need to go pack, essentially.”

“I’ll come with you. Four hands will make the job quicker.”

Alarm sounded. That had to be the absolute worst idea in the galaxy. Mason did not know where you had previously resided – more importantly: he did not know who you’d resided with. “Oh, no. I want to take my time, you know? Gives me a while to think before…everything.” You tried to hide the vehemence of your rejection.

Mason sighed, leaning down, gentle hands cupping the base of your skull. He pressed his lips to your forehead, firm yet fast, and pulled away. A wave of warmth washed down your spine. His touch trailed away when he stepped over to activate the door. You stepped past the threshold and turned back to him, his stare almost yearnful.

“Be careful, got it?”

A slight, curious smile lifted your cheeks. “I literally murked someone with my own two hands, man.” Still a bit unsteady in making light of the situation, you thought he could use a laugh.

He made a pitiful attempt toward amusement; attention on the floor, fingers picking at themselves. “Well, just…promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Hey,” he looked back up, lips set firm. “I won’t be long. I’ll use my commlink if anything happens. I promise.” There was hesitance in his nod, concern excruciating in his features. You took one of his hands. “Get some sleep, okay?” Another weak nod. “Promise me?”

He relaxed by a small measure, jaw looser. “Yeah. Promise.”

Mason watched as you made your way down the hall and out of his view, your arms wrapping his jacket across your chest, feet quick in their journey. Most of your walk was spent in the residential maze, the monotony of your surroundings turning you around a few times. But when you made it out into the main functioning center, seeing multitudes of occupied hover-cots stationed one above the other, reality made itself obvious.

A hollow feeling of privilege brought your eyes down. There had been innumerous deaths from Starkiller, but there was a sadness in seeing what remained of those who’d escaped. So many lives were still in shambles, so many misplaced after their homes were destroyed. Though you had your own problems – looming or dealt with – you at least had never gone without a room or a friend, never without choosing to do so. Seeing their sleeping faces, knowing they would wake to another long day of unknowns, you wished to aid them in some way; a warm blanket, an open ear, someone to be quiet with. You would never have the opportunity, that knowledge enough to force your head down until you entered the Elite foyer.

A hand bumped into yours when you went to scan your badge, finding a less-than-prim General Hux.

“Oh,” you gasped, ripping your hand away.

Hux looked down at you, a silent wish for your absence obvious in his face. He opened his mouth but shut it when he looked over your clothing, a pinch bringing his brows closer. “Cold, officer?”

You could not help but focus on the single piece of hair hanging over his forehead. He was usually so crisp, no wrinkles to his uniform, nothing out of order. But here he was, presumably returning to his quarters at three in the morning. How curious.

“Oh, not at all, General. And you?”

“Am I cold?” He would have sneered longer had the elevator not arrived. “No, not particularly.” He stepped past the threshold, a stark turn bringing him to face you again.

“Yeah, your face is just so red. No idea why I asked.” You would never endanger Talia by dropping her name. But a few tiny, otherwise baseless implications couldn’t harm anyone.

He paused, stunned by your candor. “What are you doing out at this hour?”

“What are you doing out at this hour? Seems a bit early for board meetings.”

“There is only one board meeting you should be concerned with, officer.”

The door began to close. Adrenaline sparked in your chest, hand flinging toward the ID scanner, legs lunging across the frame; you stood next to the general, gripping the wall support and analyzing his horrified face.

“This is gross misconduct. I should have you-,”

“Gross misconduct is a tricky thing, I’ve found. But you wouldn’t know a thing about that, would you?”

His eye twitched. He was irritated. Good. “You’re not even worth it at this point.”

“What ever are you referring to, General?”

“You don’t have many breaths left. It would be a waste of my own to write you up.” He was not looking at you, but rather at his obsidian-set reflection.

He was right, and that made this all the more fun; you could say whatever you wanted and it would not matter. He would always be against you. Why not play into it? “Don’t be too disappointed. You can always put it in your testimony.”

Hux dragged in a breath. “You are quite at ease with your death.”

“No, I wouldn’t say I’m at ease,” you sighed, the floor numbers shifting upward. “Not with dying, at least.”

His head craned to look at you, eyes narrowed, analyzing. “What, then?”

“Um,” you feigned disinterest, bringing a hand up to look at your nails. “My ease stems from the fact that I know what my future holds.”

“What are you getting at, officer?” It was an insidious whisper, all too calculating.

The doors shifted open and your heart stopped; a familiar entryway came into view. When you last left here you did not think you would ever return. Swallowing, nerves trilling, you stepped away from Hux and into the unlit room. It was devastatingly quiet. Vacant, you hoped, eyes closing with relief.

“I’ll see you at the initial hearing, General.” You did not turn around, only lifting a hand to wave him off, to listen as the doors shut and the shaft took him away.

It had never been a bright space, but now it seemed darkness was encroaching from every angle. There was something haunting in being here, something stabbing in the air. Similarly, it had never been warm, but a chill bit through to your bone; you were not sure if you imagined it, but a cloud of fog fell with each breath you took. In your absence these surroundings had accentuated only their worst traits; what surrounded you now was but a void framed in concrete walls.

Stepping into the main space, attempting toward stealth, the galaxy piercing that infinite pane of transparisteel stopped you. There had been a few times you had just leaned against it, observed; always finding comfort, sometimes even answers. Though, to contrast the cold and dark, the stars seemed dim, sparse; they were still, none chasing the others, stagnant but for a few fatal flickers.

No longer busied by the stars, you were met with the destruction that lay before them. Scarlet splinters framed the celestial background, metal strings curling upward, keys in chaos across the floor; the instrument that had enamored you in its beauty now a shattered echo of pain. The sight forced you forward, ebony dread slicing through your lungs. This was the work of someone crazed, lost in their rage; caged in it.

You tapped at your left wrist. Though you wished you could take all the time needed to piece the remains back together, time was wearing on; you needed to leave before the present damage had the possibility to be inflicted upon you. Jaw tight, hands clasped together and pulled over your sternum, you stalked to your door, noting your nameplate remained, cursing the hydraulics for being as loud as they were.

Once inside, nails biting into your palms at the second, closing hiss, you opened your eyes to find that nothing had been touched since the last time you were here. The bed was untouched, sheets set in wrinkles, within them a past life. In the absence of light you ensured a silent gait, trailing a light hand over the bedding, ice beneath your fingertips. There were tear stains on your pillowcase, that night prior to departure inked into memory, a skip in your heart at the thought.

This was taking too long. There was no time to trip down memory lane. Things have changed; no use in mourning the unattainable. You shook your head, stepping over to the wardrobe and activating the door. Another hiss clamoring into the fragile silence. Five scrub dresses remained in perfect shape, pressed and hanging at equal increments; you gathered them over your forearm and made do with that pillowcase, shoving them in to make space for undergarments.

You had forgotten they were there, tucked to the very back, uncovered when you mindlessly dragged every bra and pair of panties into your makeshift storage bag. For all intents and purposes they were gifted to you. Allowed, really, but the only tangible piece of him he had offered so willingly. Kylo Ren’s socks had come to mean more than you’d ever imagined, and all you wanted was to forget the security they had once provided.

They were light in your hands, soft at first touch and as they unfolded onto your wrists. Eyes shut, breath slow, you brought the pair to your cheek; an ache flickered in your chest, a yearning for something so far away. It was in moments like these where you remembered you were but a messenger in all of this heartbreak. Snoke had delegated his damage, had weaponized you, used you as he was Kylo. It burned to the very pits of your soul, buzzed in your teeth, stung at your eyes. That creature had this planned from the beginning, from the very day you had stepped foot in this room.

“Vile waste of breath,” you shuddered, spit splitting off at the bite.

Suddenly, spine lit to the tips of your fingers, you remembered the contents of the bedside table at your back. Fury lit your stride, hands electric with hatred, tearing the drawer open and scraping up the letter. A thumb crushed dimples into the stiff paper, whole body shaking; face heated, twisted with a rage that could only be quenched by unleashing it on Snoke’s untouchable existence. You readied to shred the correspondence, swallowing a scream, trembling with wrath; it fell from your grip before you could, though, landing face-up between your feet.

Just like that your resolve toward destruction crumbled, your hands reaching for it and bringing it just inches from your face. It was real: that pointed script, too delicate for the hand from which it’d come. It dipped under your finger, the pressure of Kylo’s grip present in the scrawl. So powerful; so delicate. It was as impossible as he was. But what more could you do but stand here and admire it in secret and lightlessness?

The worn letter and the pair of socks were tucked into a jacket pocket, the packed pillowcase over your shoulder. You were ready to go, never to return here again. This time that would be true. A swallow, a breath, and a shiver preceded your fingers reaching to activate your door. Another too-loud hiss, another moment spent with closed eyes. It was quieter, now, less invasive; and you might have brushed it off and not questioned it. Might have; eyes opening to an expanse of taut muscle, tiny moles and freckles embellishing it along his healing wounds.

The belongings hanging over your back met the ground, a soft thud barely audible through the incessant beating – pounding – of your heart. Again you were stalled in thought, not knowing how to proceed, not seeing a way out of this that wasn’t messy or complicated. He knew everything that was never intended for him, he heard your tear-framed words; yet he met you with vacancy, walked past you those days ago and taunted you with the pain you’d poured out to him.

“Commander Ren,” you cleared your throat, his focus set on the bag at your feet, “I needed clothes for Canto Bight.” Narrowed eyes met yours, a long stride leading you back in the room. “I was just leaving.”

“You were.” The door closed behind him. “We’re past pleasantries; you know my name. Use it.” A snarl ghosted his face, possessive eyes fixated on Mason’s navy coat, his voice a deep velvet.

Another step back, mouth drying with each second, your hand toyed with a jacket fastener. Every muscle of his was tensed, jaw tight and shoulders paced to purposeful breaths. Transparent bacta dressed his abdominal wound, its borders creasing with every step he took. He did not limp; in fact, he seemed otherwise healed given he’d been unconscious just over a week ago.

“Kylo,” you gulped, “Kylo I can’t do this. You know that.”

One more step forward, drawstrings swaying at his waist. “I know what I heard.” He was still focused on your jacket, eyes darting across it in calculation.

“So let me leave here. Let me at least try and survive this.”

“I’m not keeping you here. Go now, if it’s what you want.”

The heel of your shoe hit the bedside table. There was nowhere left to run. He was close, staring down at you, sole concentration not shifting. The air was thick, time pressing on, heat splintering down your back. He had to be lying. It was a trap, surely.

“Fine,” you pressed a weak hand just under his right rib, “excuse me, then.” He allowed you past him, staying in place as you collected your spilled belongings.

“Only if it is what you want.” His voice boomed off the walls.

Your hand stalled over the activator. “What are you saying?”

“You talked a lot about choices. It brought me to the realization that you have never made one for yourself,” a low hum, consideration, “maybe one.”

“That’s a low blow coming from someone who slaughters whole villages without a second thought,” you barked, fire lighting over your tongue. You turned to face him, his stance unchanged. “I told you those things thinking you couldn’t hear me. And now because of some Force fuckery, coma-adjacent bullshit you’re rubbing them in my face.”

“You think I’m insulting you for killing an enemy?” Kylo’s hair shook at his shoulders when he turned to face you again, his eyes now on yours. “You’re more confused than I thought.”

“Wow. Yes, I want to go. It’s a better option than staying here and listening to how stupid I am.”

“You convict yourself. Do not believe otherwise.”

“Fucking- what are you talking about?”

He crossed the room, stopping a stride away. He observed you through a perspective solely known to him. “I never questioned your intelligence. I never gave a second thought to the death of that stormtrooper. But you’ve done both of these in excess. You are your own worst enemy.”

Thoughts scrambled to form, defenses weak against his logic. “And your worst enemy sits on a throne while you do his bidding,” an unbridled, bitter laugh rang around the room, “He’ll probably worm into your head later and see all of this. And I will be the one who suffers.”

Metal clanged the back of your skull, an icy hand locked tight to your throat. “You are acting recklessly,” Kylo hissed your name, “you’ll suffer sooner by your own hand than the supreme leader’s. Sooner than mine.”

“That seems- improbable,” you strangled out, scraping your nails against his wrist.

The pressure lightened, blood rushing through your head. He kept his hand in place, heavy breaths shifting under his grip. His eye twitched, that black-set scar moving with it. The weight of his fingers shifted lower, spanning the width of your chest, thumb preoccupied with the jacket collar’s edge.

“Always the physician,” he breathed, voice so low you were unsure if you were meant to hear it.

“Mason has never hurt me.” It was an immediate answer, Kylo’s brows knitting, more in thought than in pain. “I trust him.”

His throat bobbed, cool black suffocating the warmth of his irises, a petrified pause stuck between him and you. “Do you want to leave here?”

“Wha- yes! I’ve been trying for the past-,”

“Without considering McCarty. Without considering the supreme leader,” he swallowed, “without considering me.” A certain loneliness glinted just beyond the eyes that studied yours, breathtaking and frightening, heart-stopping the longer you peered back at it. “Only thinking about yourself.”

“What, Kylo?”

His hand left you now, Kylo leaning away and standing back. He observed you; surely his eyes had never rested. “Do you want to leave here? Is that what you want?”

“Why would that make it any different?” There was no sense to this game, no point you could see.

“If there’s any truth to what you said, you’ll do as I say.”

Something broke within your chest when he spoke these words. If. He had heard you; he’d heard everything. But it had not undone the damage Snoke had caused. “You think I was faking that?” you whispered, numbness growing with the lack of response he offered. “Why would I lie to someone I thought couldn’t hear me? Why- why would I- I cried, I told you everything and you still think Snoke has noth-,”

Kylo locked his lips to yours, every word you were going to say disappeared, every thought you might have spoken lost to him. He was furious in his effort to keep you close; nails bit at your scalp, a bare chest warmed your skin, strong legs framed yours. He was all but lifting you from the ground. This urgency claiming his every move kept you from making any of your own, arms limp at your sides, nothing to protest this advance.

It felt right. That was all you knew. He felt good, like nothing would ever compare to him. Though you tried to feel guilty about it, attempted to pull away when images of Mason and Snoke fleeted in and out of thought – you couldn’t. This was what you wanted. This is what you wanted. This is what you wanted.

His hands were bound to you, your own clasping around his wrists, slowing him until still. The two of you warmed the other’s cheeks with quick, needy breaths. With your head tipped up to his, the cradle of his fingers still firm, you opened your eyes; in the black of night, not a viewport around, there were stars before you, dim and scarce, but there.

“No,” you pled, “no. My answer is no.” The tip of your nose nudged his bottom lip, breath stalled in his lungs. “No, I don’t want to leave here. Kylo, I don’t want to leave.”

A slow attack was made to press your lips to his; first kissing a corner, then teething at his bottom lip, and finally finding his in full. Your hands trailed up his arms and framed his face, his own tearing that jacket from your arms like it was his mortal enemy, just as fiercely pulling your top above your head to uncover your breasts. Chills ignited your back only to die when the heat of his hold trailed down your spine and hooked into the waistband of your pants.

The second you stepped out of the sweats you clung to his neck and attempted to wrap your legs around him, a quiet grunt coughed from his throat when you grazed his abdominal wound. It stalled you for a moment, a fragment of time spent checking to see if he was okay. It surprised you when you found the grunt didn’t appear to be from pain, but from want.

“You liked that?” you whispered, a lasciviousness edging the genuine concern in your voice.

Kylo hiked your leg over his wound, clutched it to him and held you there. His mouth was ardent over your artery, teeth trailing down so his lips could press into the tops of your breasts. He was so big, every part of him was massive and capable and you knew that you would give him what he wanted, and for some reason you knew – maybe if just right now – he would give you the same.

The room moved, spun, the bed growing closer. His pants fell with the help of your heels kicking them down. His hair was soft to the touch, your lips pressing to the midnight strands over his temple. He laid down, your legs straddling his waist, a pulse beating against your left inner thigh. Warmth spread below, a dark red flaring even in the surrounding shadows. It was so familiar, too similar to ignore.

Blood pooling. Red. A man beneath you, a conqueror. Darkness. The scar over his face a mirror of what you’d given Robbie, something sinister creeping onto your shoulders, a sense of doom. A mirage of tremors around you, the world unsteady in an instant. Screams. Screaming so loud, everything was so loud.

“I can’t do this. No, no, I can’t do this. It’s too much, I can’t-,”

A hand pulled you down, lips just missing yours, security obvious in the hold. “He took something from you,” Kylo drawled, a hand guiding your eyes to his. He kept you steady in his stare for a number of seconds, an eloquent silence punctuating the order that next left him. “Take it back.”

It felt like you had been permitted to let go, like Kylo Ren’s words had freed you from the cell you’d been living in since that day. A tear formed and fell, sinking into the black binding over his cheek. You kissed it, and then his nose, and then found his lips again; the tip of your tongue slid past his teeth and flicked along the side of his, flutters forming in your belly.

Kylo’s hands left your neck and came down to your hips, a thumb brushing over his flesh-set signature; it prompted you to sit up, to look down at him through strands of mussed hair. His cock slid along your slit, slick easing the motion. When his tip caught on your clit he shifted his hips, forcing upward and erupting shocks along every inch of your skin. A moan sent your head back, Kylo grunting with pleasure, your hips shifting along his length.

He captured your stare, the head of his cock lining up with your entrance; he was offering you the chance to right so much wrong, to do exactly what he had told you – to take back what you had lost. There was a patience so slight that only the trained eye could recognize. Several breaths preceded the courage it took to let yourself go, to feel connection and not fear when you lowered onto him.

The man below you shuddered, the wound now at your knee still contained, the blood from earlier all a trick of your mind. To have him seated so deep inside you, to feel him solid, warm, and real beneath you – it created this sense of peace. Like nobody could take this from you, like this was a gift. One of you physically, the other inwardly – you were both healing. Your hips rocking against him, tiding with his own, panting filling the room and sweat humidifying the air, you realized this was the first moment since getting that early morning alarm for Jakku that you had felt completely at ease.

There were things you were still uncertain of – the trial, Talia’s situation, Mason, Snoke – but, for now, you chose to set them aside. Tears stopped forming but still streamed past your chin, wetting your breasts before him. Kylo caught one that had slipped down your sternum, massaging it into his thumb before pressing the pad of the digit past your lips. A groan flourished from him when you bit at his joint, sucking the salty tear from his skin, feeling his dick grind against that sensitive spot with every thrust of his hips that met your own.

You pulled his thumb from your mouth and positioned his hand over your tit, grabbing for his other and placing it on the opposite. He pawed at the flesh, his head tipping back into the mattress, jaw tight and teeth gnashed. Wet sounds squelched with each bounce, grinding circles onto him and watching pleasure build, a vibrant flush swelling atop his chest.

Just when you thought he would finish you felt the buzzing pressure of the Force right over your clit, hitting it perfectly. A loud, unapologetic squeal escaped, your hands squeezing over Kylo’s, the two of you moving in a synchronicity you had only ever known possible with him. Release budded in your belly, stretched down your thighs, and reached the very tips of your toes, blood singing for him. Kylo’s hands were no doubt marked into your tits now, his fingers forming fists, climax ripping through him with a series of building breaths. He fucked up into you through his orgasm, spend spilling out onto your thighs.

His chest was expansive, yet still wounded, a gentleness leading you down to rest upon it. You kept his hands in yours, holding onto them at either side, no resistance from him. Kylo wrapped his fingers around your left wrist, lifting it out of sight, curious movements tracing along the region. It barely registered; you were not cognizant of time, only knowing that you were here with him right now. It is what you wanted. It is what you chose.

A sound – digital, high-pitched – beeped at your left, the room bathed in a dull red a second later. The face of your watch was lit, eyes squinting at its concentrated brightness. You held up your arm, an elbow propping you up on his chest. The red dot rested at the center of your radar, the sight leaving you with an unexpected relief.

The time read 05:03 in the corner, a sigh leading your head to his chest, eyes closing in reluctance. “I told Ma-,”

“You don’t want to leave,” Kylo murmured, his breath slowing with each minute.

He was right. Mason would understand; he would have to.

“No,” you kissed the scar beneath your lips, “I want to stay.”

[yandere-daydreams]

A Yandere!Hawks/OC piece for a very lovely anonymous commissioner, featuring her character, Miya, and the foul-feather man himself. This might be my first time writing for Keigo, but I feel like it went well enough. I may have taken a few creative liberties with his dialogue, though...

Word Count: 2.1k

TW: Non-Con, Semi-Public Sex, Groping, Entitlement and Delusional Mindsets. 

It wasn’t that Miya didn’t like Keigo.

She didn’t like him, but she couldn’t say she disliked him, either. She respected his work as a hero, and appreciated the levity his reputation held, even if she wasn’t particularly fond of the young Pro when he was out of costume. Like everyone else, she’d had her run-ins with him, but as time went on and her life progressed, she seemed to see more of him, hear more of him, whether it was that laugh or that smirk or that lazy, smug tone that permeated his voice like rainwater overflowing from a gutter after a heavy storm. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, but one day, she might.

One day soon, preferably.

That’d make rejecting him much easier than it was now.

Even now, it was difficult not to grit her teeth as her eyes darted towards his shoes, moving in pace with her own as she walked, her stride much faster than it had to be despite Keigo offering to take the lead. The incident had been over an hour ago, and Miya would like to think that she hadn’t seemed shaken. It was just a petty criminal, a thief looking for someone who’d cower at the first sight of claws and scales, but she’d always found it difficult to be intimidated by a quirk, however villainous it appeared. She’d been ready to defend herself, but Keigo was on the attack before she could make a move, and he was more than happy to take the credit when all the newscasters and amateur journalists arrived to document his feat, leaving Miya swept up in the chaos. He’d insisted on walking her home, afterward, and she hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse to tell him to fuck off.

How many times had he saved her, now? It could’ve been that they followed similar routes, or the recent influx in crime, but this had to be the fifth time he’d come to her rescue, if not the sixth. Vigilant crime-fighters weren’t an issue, but it was hard not to feel… unnerved by the frequency. Up until a few months ago, she’d never even seen a hero on patrol, and now one was trailing her, ready to lunge at the slightest hint of a treat. It was just her ego talking, she knew that, but her ego could be loud. Unignorable at the worst of times, unfortunately.

Keigo huffed, drawing her out of her thoughts, raising his arms and cupping his hands behind his head, forming a make-shift support as he glanced idly towards the sky. “Awfully thoughtful tonight,” He commented, filling the uncomfortable silence. He was smiling, but it was one of his reflexive grins, reassuring to most but off-putting to anyone who spent more than a moment in his company. Miya wasn’t proud to belong to the latter group. “You’re not gettin’ sick of me, are you? I’d hate to turn you off your favorite hero.”

“I prefer Endeavor,” She mumbled, more for herself than for him. Her eyes darted to the sidewalk, then the buildings on either side of the road. It was late, by now, so most of the shops were closed, but she could still see the signs and brands posted outside, each name more unrecognizable than the last. “Hawks--”

Keigo clicked his tongue, his smile faltering, a frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. “I thought I told you to call me--”

“Hawks,” She affirmed, her tone more authoritative than it had to be. “Are you sure this is a shortcut? None of this seems familiar, and it feels like we’ve gone too far… I think I’d know the best way to get to my own apartment, by now.”

Her skepticism earned her a glance out of the corner of his eye, half-obscured by his sleeve as he shifted to get a better look at her. With an inaudible sigh, he dropped his arms back to his sides, his smile softening as he took her wrist. She opened her mouth, but Keigo didn’t give her a chance to get anything out, holding a finger to his lips as he spoke. “Have I ever been wrong?” He asked, ignoring her hasty nod. “Just trust me, I’ll have you home in no time.”

Before she could protest, he was pulling her into a narrow alleyway between a convenience store and a larger, unnamed building, the space so narrow, they struggled to walk side-by-side. Away from the streetlights, it took her eyes a moment to adjust, but sight did little to alleviate her confusion. Rather, she only grew more unnerved as a fence came into view, chainlink but tall, too tall to easily be scaled. Again, she moved to voice her thoughts and again, Keigo had other plans. Plans that seemed to have less and less to do with keeping her safe.

She wasn’t sure how it happened. One second, she was just turning towards him, and the next, she was facing a brick wall, her hands coming up reflexively to support herself, Hawks’ arm wrapped around her waist and his chest pressed against her back, the bulk of his attire doing little to stifle how suffocated she suddenly felt, dread welling up and boiling over before she had a chance to stifle it. She tried to scream, but a downy glove was quick to stop her, shooting to her mouth and muffling the sound. Keigo only kissed the nape of her neck, cooing something unintelligible, like he had the right to try and calm her down.

“C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it had to be,” He muttered, a finger slipping below the waistband of her shorts. Instantly, panic set in, and she threw her weight against him, grappling and fighting for any opening she could get. Keigo’s hold tightened, and he let out a soft growl as he shoved her against the wall, two feathers shooting out from his wings and finding her sweater, long sleeves soon pinned to the solid stone, trapping Miya with them. Still, Keigo was gentle, slow, taking his time to work her shorts down to her thighs as if he didn’t have any place better to be. “We could’ve done this your way, but you just had to huff and groan until you lost your chance. We’re gonna do this how I want to, now.”

“Fucking pervert,” She spat, but her voice died in her throat as he pawed at her ass, pressing another kiss into the dip of her shoulder. Fabric rustled, something soft falling to the ground, his now free hand brushing past her thigh to rub against the seat of her panties, tracing her slit for a moment before pushing distinct, measured circles into her clit. Even with a layer of cloth and disgust separating them, his expertise was undeniable, each tic of his fingers and buck of his hips against her sending a shock through her system, uninvited but not unpleasant. Miya grit her teeth, her jaw locking into place and her eyes clenching shut in an effort to block him out, but there was nothing she could do to ignore the long, low whistle he let out as her hips twitched, dampness just beginning to accumulate on his fingertips. Keigo only nuzzled into her back, nearly purring in satisfaction.

“This might’ve been more romantic, if you weren’t so stubborn,” He mumbled, absentmindedly pulling her panties to the side as he spoke. Abruptly, two fingers were pushed inside of her, leaving her to clench and adjust as he scissored her open, alternating between curling and pumping, whichever made her knees buckle and needy, pathetic whimpers work their way past her lips. “Been planning it out for a while, since the first time I saved my little damsel in distress. Woulda bought you roses, taken you back to my place, all that shit. Guess we’ll save that for that later, though.” His palm came up, grinding against her clit, and Miya gasped, involuntarily pushing herself into his chest. Keigo chuckled, his ministrations becoming more aggressive. “Shoulda waited this time, too. You were just bein’ so cold, I didn’t think I could help myself.”

Miya tried to speak, but all that came out was a pitiful, incoherent stutter as he pulled away, his grip moving to her waist as he dragged her back, forcing her to brace herself against the unforgiving wall and pray for mercy. She felt the tip of his cock press against her cunt, but that was all the warning she got before he was pushing inside her, refusing to stop until he’d bottomed out with a blatant, shameless groan. The stretch was painful, too snug to mean anything good, but that didn’t stop Keigo from grinding against her, starting to thrust just as her legs gave out, leaving Keigo to hold her up. If he cared, though, she couldn’t tell, his hold on her hips growing bruising as he moved inside her, spikes of pleasure and pain striking at her core in unforgiving, unyielding waves. Tears blurred her vision, welling in the corners of her eyes, but moans mixed with the sobs, forming something hellish in the middle ground. Keigo cooed, his tone turning delicate, infantilizing. Adoring, if she was being optimistic, but Miya couldn’t find it in herself to be so positive.

“You’re so tight, baby. Are you still scared of me?” He snapped his hips against hers, making a point of relishing in the high-pitched whine that crawled out of her throat. She stopped making an effort to be quiet, suddenly finding herself thankful for the passing cars, the footsteps of distant pedestrians, her own breathy, heated pants. Anything to distract her from the wet, sloppy sounds of Keigo fucking into her cunt. “Don’t worry, we’ll change that,” He assured, before the air hitched in his lungs, his pace losing rhythm for the blink of an eye. “Or, maybe we won’t. I’m gonna take such good care of you… I get to be selfish about this, yeah?”

It might’ve been the adrenaline, or the fear or Keigo’s intensity or anything, but when one of his hands fell past her waist, reaching around to tease her clit… That was all she needed to clench around him, her chest seizing up and her knees knocking together as she came, the break from that constant, thudding pressure coming as a relief. And yet, it didn’t do anything to block out the feeling of Keigo pulling out, barely getting a fist around his cock before something thick and hot coated the back of her thigh.

There was silence, for a moment, only broken by the labored breaths both of them struggled to take. Miya didn’t have to worry about it for very long, though.

He kissed her jaw, the two red fathers keeping her pinned falling to the ground, lifeless. She could hear him fishing something out of his coat’s pocket, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at what it was. “Close your eyes, alright? We’re going home.”

A rag pressed against her lower face, and the world around her went black.

~

Miya was sore when she woke up, her head pounding and her legs aching despite the plush surface she’d been laid on. She was almost tempted to lean into it, to go back to sleep and worry about the pain another time, but a dip in the mattress was enough to inject a cold, sobering dose of reality into her veins, the severity of her situation slowly beginning to dawn on her. Hesitantly, she sat up, keeping her gaze focused on satin sheets and more pillows than any one person could ever need, her survey ending when her eyes landed on the sleek, polished metal shackle wrapped around her ankle, connected to a seamless tether that fell off the side of the bed. Miya felt herself deflate, her hope spiraling as quickly as her pride had.

She almost didn’t feel the lithe fingertips soon rubbing at her shoulders, a familiar face leaning into her side. “Don’t be too mad at me, princess,” Keigo mumbled, his voice quiet, comforting. As soothing as it was repulsive. “The chain’ll come off as soon as you come around. Be good for me, and I won’t have to make things any worse.”

“You kidnapped me,” She retorted, but her voice was weak, barely audible. She just glared, biting the inside of her cheek. “Hawks--”

“Keigo. You’re supposed to call me Keigo.” His hold around her shoulder tightened, and Miya cringed, crying out breathlessly, but Keigo only laughed, the sound forced, volatile.

Cruel.

“But, we’ll have plenty of time to work on that, won’t we?”

[dracosearlgreytea]

indelicate marks (5)

indelicate marks: chapter five - the first lesson

A/N: here is chapter five! if you have had enough patience to get to here i am very proud and i thank you for putting up with so many arguments haha but dont worry very soon we shall be getting to the juicy stuff! its only the beginning! lots of love - ivy 

warnings: language, pretty awful bullying, implications of suicidal thoughts, draco being mean, everyone is mean, but especially draco (im sorry)

lovely tags: @h-annahayy @okaydraco @fanficflaneuse

indelicate marks index 

Undeniably, you were utterly and completely terrified of Occlumency. The entire act of it threw you back into the Easter holidays of your previous year at Hogwarts. Hours and hours of having your parents force their way into your mind, digging through every memory and every thought. Every time it left you sobbing, shaking, begging for them to stop, often having to run to the bathroom and turn out your stomach. They were two strangers, really. You'd been a year old when they'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Two strangers, rummaging around in your head. You were equally terrified of having to let Draco rummage through it, too. After having counted down every day till your decided meeting, there was a slight tremor in your hand to compliment the nausea sitting in your stomach as you climbed the shifting stairs. You were grateful that everyone was in the Great Hall and wouldn't be able to see the direction you headed. Not that anyone would take notice. Not unless they'd found some new threats to hurtle at you, anyway. Although you tried very hard not to, you seemed to have taken up a new habit of paying attention to Draco and his ever worsening appearance over the past few weeks. It was as though he got more and more exhausted every day, and whilst you could feel a very similar phenomenon within yourself, the fact that Draco Malfoy was so concerned about... Whatever it was he was dealing with, was making you - as much as you loathed to admit it - worry. Not just for whatever chaos would surely ensue from it. Of course, it was bound to be related to the mark on his arm, which only made you worry more. What the hell had happened to him over the summer? Worrying about Draco and whatever his involvement with the Dark Lord was only seemed to make your own anxieties multiply. It was a spiral, a steep and downward spiral, that left you with that constant sick feeling. It was as though you were falling, slowly and quickly all at the same time. You had a million questions for him that you would never allow yourself to ask, and he would most certainly not ever answer, but they echoed in your mind into the night, keeping you tossing and turning in your bed. Did he take it willingly? No, surely not, or he wouldn't have been crying about it that time in the bathrooms. Would Draco have just let someone give him that mark? And who did? Does Voldemort have to give each Deatheater a mark individually? Oh, shit, what if I have to actually meet the Dark Lord? No, that doesn't make sense... On, and on. Hesitation overcame you as you finally arrived outside the classroom door and you had to take a deep breath to settle your nerves before you pushed it open. Dust shifted in the air as you entered, illuminated by the days last light, which flooded in through the broken, tinted windows. Desks still sat in rows, facing a chalkboard that would most likely never been used again, papers scattered and worn into the floor beneath your feet. "You're late." The drawl of an increasingly familiar voice still made you jump, and your eyes flicked to the edge of the room opposite you. You'd almost missed him, where he sat on the edge of a desk, partially hidden by the shadows. His wand hung from his fingers, and he flicked it up absentmindedly. "Colloportus." Behind you, the door clicked, locked. "Was that really necessary?" You muttered, edging away from the door, trying to ignore how the action made your heart rate increase. There was no escape. You were now locked in a room with Draco Malfoy - who, was about to delve into your most private thoughts - and was also a Deatheater.   He washed his grey gaze over you, eyes finally coming to meet yours piercingly, sending a small shiver down your spine. "Can't be too careful." He shrugged. Coming to stand a couple meters away from him, you inspected him, noting how pale he looked. More pale than usual. In fact, he looked as though he could have been sick.   "You look like you're about to fucking puke." Draco spoke again, monotone, snapping you back to the situation at hand as he withdrew. Looking you up and down, his lips dragged downward in a vague disgust. Feeling all too uneasy under his scrutiny, but passing off the feeling, you rolled your eyes. "Skip the niceties, by all means." Your mutter prompted him to smirk lightly, your gaze becoming all too focused on the way the corner of his lips then shifted upward. "I'm about to be inside your head. I wouldn't worry about niceties." Dread pooled in your gut at his blunt words, and you pulled your eyes away from him. Standing, he gave you another, rather condescending look. "You aren't about to puke, are you?" "No," You groaned, shooting him a glare. "Let's just - just get on with it." Draco only tightened his grip on his wand, adjusting his stance. "Clear your mind, and focus." Your chest was painfully tight, sending him a nod of acknowledgement. He seemed to take this as a prompt, as his wand came upward, and he spoke clearly. "Legilimens!" Panic flooded your being as his conscious plummeted into yours, thoughts loud and overbearing as you tried so hard to ignore them - but the feeling was overpowering, utterly overwhelming, and your parents voices were too loud in your ears again. Stop being so overemotional! Compartmentalise! It was too much.   The Forbidden Forest, third year. "Deatheaters like Dementors, don't they?" Laughs and shouts came from around you, their grips hard on your arms. They dragged you through the trees, your feet skimming over fallen branches, stopping you from struggling. You were shouting, protesting, but the grips were tightening more and more. There was a dip in the ground, and then you were falling, hitting the dirt with a thud and rolling over damp mud. "You'll be right at home with the Dementors. Mum and Dad ever talk about them?" Winded, you coughed, heaving as the cheers died down. Icy cold spread over your skin, the sound of deathly wheezing echoing in your ears. Footsteps, fell away and you ran your eyes over the lake - cloaked figures descending around you, predator to prey. You let out a choked sob, gripped with fear. Stumbling to your feet, you began to run, one of the vile creatures swooping in close. Your ears rang as it approached you, and the force of the kiss pushed you back to the ground. Terrified, you curled in on yourself, shivering and freezing. Just kill me, please, just kill me- Another dark blur, and then you were plunged into another setting before you could even attempt to take back an ounce of control. The Room of Requirement filled out around you, bursts of white light shooting across the room. Joy - it was such an unfamiliar feeling, but you welcomed it as your lips stretched into a grin. Hermione Granger shot you an equally wide smile as a bright, white otter swum around her, before jetting towards you, just missing you as your own patronus leaped up into the air. A laugh escaped your lips, echoing in your ears as you stared back at the creature, swiftly moving up, up, up, until - there was an awful shattering, the walls seeming to groan, lights flickering around you. The joy dissipated, and you were left with fear. Words scrawled across your hand, etched into your skin, burning. "Harry! Hey, Harry," You were in the hallway, now, after detention with Umbridge. The trio did not stop, Harry's head only turning briefly as you called. "I need to talk to you," You tried, rushing after them, and he finally stopped, only to spin and fix you with a stare. "It's over." He growled. "Stop making excuses. You told Malfoy, didn't you?" "No!" You begged. "How could you say it was me? You saw Cho-" "Don't bother talking to us again, Y/N." There was rage. A lot of rage, but it only simmered into a terrible self loathing, as you watched them walk away, burning inside. Smoldering. Before another memory could take the previous one's place, you threw yourself out of the memory violently. Stumbling away from him, you dropped to your knees, tears stinging your eyes. Bile burnt the back of your throat as gasping desperately for oxygen. That horrible feeling of rejection took a moment to fully fade, leaving you shivering and hiccuping as tears rolled down your cheeks. "Take your time." Draco sounded a lot closer than he was before, and you pushed yourself to sit upright. Dragging in long, deep breaths, your eyes shut as you wrapped your arms around your legs, curling in on yourself. Shockingly, he didn't have that usual taunt in his tone. When the dizziness finally passed, you dared to open your eyes, wiping your face and giving him a glimpse. Draco looked tense, features tight as he stared back at you. The look in his eye was intense - but other than that, you couldn't quite decipher what emotion it was reflecting. Before you could talk, he extended his hand, and you stared at it for a moment. The out of character act eased the knot of anxiety in your stomach, and you took it, allowing him to help pull you up off the floor, his eyes not leaving you once. Avoidant of that persistent gaze, you sighed. "What?" "What?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "If you've got something to say, then just bloody say it." You snapped, lips curling into a small frown. He continued to watch you, silent, for another second. "Why did you help Potter?" Draco asked, tone edged but not harsh. You blinked in surprise, lips forming a small frown. "What do you mean?" "You joined that group." He stated, as though his question had a very obvious answer. "Why? You get treated like shit by Mudbloods." Hesitating, you faltered, struggling to put words together as he continued to search your expression. "I - I guess I had something to prove," You began, carefully, narrowing your eyes at Draco. His eyes were piercing, brow furrowed with his arms crossed across his chest. "Why do you care, anyway?" "I don't." He spoke, quick, cold. "It just seems idiotic." A spark of anger flickered in your chest, and you tensed your jaw, head shifting to the side ever so slightly. "I don't need your input on my choices, Malfoy." You spoke low, warning, his eyes lighting up as his lips pulled into a small sneer of amusement at your tone. "No, I'm intrigued," Draco pushed, a cruel look flushing over his features. "Tell me why you'd want to fight for the side that took your family away from you." "Shut up." The anger was simmering, breathing shallow as you stared at him. "You really want to save the people that carved up your arm? Fed you to Dementors?" That smirk was vile as it crawled upon his lips, eyes set on you as you struggled to keep your emotions at bay, tears now stinging your eyes. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." "Because as much as you try to, you're not going to get away from it." The grey in his eyes was cold, the smile falling, leaving him with a dead look that chilled you to the bone. "You're always going to be the daughter of two murderers." Ripping your wand out of your pocket, you flung a wordless spell towards him - he managed to react quickly, throwing himself out the way. The spell, instead, hit the wall, leaving the brick black and singed. Draco gaped, eyes wide, from you to the wall. "That could have killed me!" "You're pathetic." You spat, hot with fury. "You will never, never, understand what it's like to not have a choice." Something flickered in his eyes, and his features pulled in painfully tight. You faltered. You'd never seen him look so angry, except for perhaps the first time you'd seen him in the bathrooms. "You think I had a choice?" Draco hissed, eyes stormy as he glared at you. "You think I fucking wanted this? If I don't do this - my mother will die, I will die!" A terrible silence fell between you. Breathing shallow and heart hammering in your chest, you stared at him, horror settling in your chest. Draco seemed to be just as stunned, shoulders rising and falling harshly, rage still echoing in his now fallen expression. "Do what?" Your voice trembled as you spoke. His eyes darted away from you, before he became vacant again. "It's none of your business." He grumbled, stalking toward the door. "We're done for today." "Draco-" But he had already unlocked the door with the flick of his wand, and you came to stand in the doorway as he strode out the room, vanishing into the darkness of the corridor.

[midsummerevening]

Episode 2: Spotlight Party

Second analysis here we go!

First off, that Ferris wheel scene at the beginning? I don’t need to be a dream expert to know what it means. Like I said in my previous post, Victor, on that night, chose Mia over Benji. Thing is, if he had summoned up the courage to ask Benji, he would have. He looked at him first after all! But he went to Mia. This dream, however, reveals pretty much who his first choice was directed to. Who he wished he would have been with. Not to mention the fact Victor and Benji were about to kiss. In this scene lies Victor’s hidden desire.

But not only. As the crowd booing certifies, Victor is more than afraid to come out. And at this moment, the non-tolerance, the rejection from his own family and this new community he has just started to call home.

It’s not a dream. It’s a nightmare. A nightmare Victor does not want to live. Obviously this is far more intricate than it looks, because Victor may believe that coming out would compromise everything he ever had, for now he is only compromising himself from being who he is. As the episodes go on, we do see that he is mentally-conflicted.

That is something we witness later on at the lunch period. Victor is invited to Mia’s spotlight party and Felix says: “You have to wear yellow. Why wouldn’t you?” to which Victor makes that quizzical kinda sceptical face.

This is the same look he gave to Pilar or to Isabel in 1x01. He looks so sick and tired of continuing this whole charade, the pretending. And he will tell as much to Mia later on that night. We’ll go back to that moment later on.

As much as he is tired of this, he doesn’t confess why he wouldn’t wear green, because that would lead him to come out not only to Felix but also to Pilar. Victor has not yet come to terms with who he is exactly, so how could he?

Plus, I think there is a new added pressure now as he has become “popular” + the weight of expectations that he will go out with Mia. Now he feels like he can’t slip up. I do believe that Victor is happy that everyone seems to accept him (who would like to be outcast?), but it’s even harder to come out now that people seem to love him, and what’s more, to love him for something he’s not. That’s hard to handle.

Then the scene with Benji at Brasstown confronts him to everything he’s been trying to avoid. It clashes with the image that everyone has of him now in high school, that he, the new kid, is straight and is likely to go out with Mia. Pushes him to realize he is attracted to boys and not girls. In sum, it is a confrontation with himself and who he has been denying for so long already… which is why, as pleasant as the encounter was, he leaves, rushes to his place and puts on that horrible yellow tee-shirt. Another layer to pretend. Another masque. The face he’s making to the mirror? Sad. Defeated. It crushed me. I knew in a heart-beat that he forced himself into wearing it. He felt pressured, and now with Benji… it’s like he can’t run from reality any more (well, he did run from the coffee shop).

The only way he finds to avoid is to conform to the image everyone has made of him. The use of the mirror is interesting in that sense. Victor’s reflection in the mirror isn’t Victor. It’s only a belief that people entertain because Victor has decided to go on with the illusion that he’s straight.

His interaction with Felix only brings confirmation. He did it because that is what he ought to do. A girl is interested in you. She hosts a spotlight party. Why are you going to do? Not wear yellow? That’s non-sense! What got into you?

Ultimately choosing not to wear yellow will bring out more suspicions, more… questions. From Felix, from other people too perhaps. Better to blend in. “Like you said, why wouldn’t I?” I wonder…

Flash forward to the party. Victor arrives, goes with the guys of the basketball team and, what does he do? He jumps at the first opportunity to wear green. On one hand, that could be because he wants to be thought well by the guys. After all, he wants to be accepted more than anything. Another indicator of that is when he goes along with the banter: “Have you seen Mia yet? - What? She’s looking for me?” and everyone laughs.

On the other hand, that could be because he’s actually relieved that he doesn’t get to wear yellow after all.

Later on, as Victor receives Simon’s message, realization hit him. Is this the image you want to give? “Betray yourself”?

He no longer wears yellow but he’s playing a part nonetheless. He becomes aware that it’s not worth it. He was so happy of fitting in that he ended up losing himself in the process… That’s after that that he decides to stand up for Felix.

Then comes this amazing scene with Mia where they confide in one another. Mia says that “sometimes it’s easier to just plaster on a smile and let people see what they want” and right then, though it is not obvious either to Mia or to himself, Victor voices out loud the reason why he doesn’t/can’t come out. He’s “scared shitless of not fitting” in Creekwood. Fear. That’s the reason.

The connection that these two have is undeniable. They get each other, they get along. And clearly this is what leads (or misleads) Victor to believe that maybe he is into girls after all, maybe this could work. The heart-to-heart talk that Victor had with Mia + the story that his father told him about him and Isabel sealed the deal for Victor, if I may say so. Now Victor is convinced that Mia might be the one for him. I would even say, that after having that discussion and having realized that he actually likes her, he turns out to be happy to have wore yellow. It doesn’t feel like he’s pretending any more.

Finally. The phone call from Benji. Benji is the constant reminder of what Victor is trying to forget. His attraction to boys. That phone call, it set him straight (no pun-intended). It brought him back to reality. Victor wonders what will happen, and might be dreading working with Benji at this point, following his gay panic at the interview. He’s afraid that what he wants to deny will come back in full force. The music in the background that closes the episode is quite interesting: I want to be loved, don’t want to be hated. I’m too mixed-up. It sums up pretty well Victor at this point.

Thanks again for reading!

[leviathanswingman]

killing me softly, chapter 9: intervening

Diavolo fixed Lucifer with an intense stare. He still hadn't eased up on his death hold, so Lucifer and him were only mere inches apart from each other.

Oh, this was dangerous.

Lucifer was the first to avert his gaze and instead focused on the swirly pattern of the wallpaper to calm his breathing and collect himself again. „How long have you been awake for?“ he asked, dreading the worst. „If that was all it took to wake you up, I've clearly been doing the wrong thing for decades.“

Diavolo scoffed. „So that's how it's going to be.“

He released his grip on Lucifer's body to cradle his face instead, rough hands on surprisingly soft cheeks, forcing him to look into his eyes again.

„For how long do you think you can keep up this charade? You are dying,“ he said. Despite himself, Diavolo had lost all willingness to keep up a playful front. He was dead serious now and his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. There was a certain expression on his face, it was almost as if he were searching for the last piece of the puzzle that would finally make him understand Lucifer's uncharacteristic defiance. Perhaps he would find it if he studied Lucifer's face long enough.

„I'll live just fine,“ Lucifer grumbled in response, his face as stoic as usual.

“How? Out of nothing but spite? Not even you can do that. Hell, not even I would be able to do that!” Diavolo growled. “It's not worth it if it means losing you. Confess already and move on, I need you. Your brothers need you.”

For a split second an undeniable look of hurt slipped through the cracks of Lucifer's otherwise indestructible poker face. He shook off Diavolo's hands, took hold of the bloodied handkerchief that had still been lying on the bed, and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Holding the handkerchief to his mouth once again, he coughed six blue petals into it before letting it disappear in the pocket of his pants.

He threw Diavolo one last, indecipherable look. “Of course, my lord. I'll make sure to eradicate these pesky feelings. Thank you for your hospitality and also, excuse me for the inconvenience I've caused you,” he stated coldly as he slipped on his dress shoes, distinctly avoiding Diavolo's gaze.

At this point Diavolo had sat up on his bed, watching Lucifer in confusion.

Had he said something he shouldn't have said? All he'd wanted to do was help Lucifer get back to his old, unbothered self.

If there was one thing Diavolo couldn't stand for certain then it was seeing his beloved Lucifer in this much pain. It cost him all of his strength to remain in place when his brain yelled at him to go on a one man mission through the whole country to weed out the one person who had managed to do the unthinkable; to find that one person who had managed to steal Lucifer's heart, a feat Diavolo himself had attempted uncountable times, but had failed at over and over again, no matter how hard he tried.

Certain things just couldn't be earned through persistence after all. After all, there was a thin line to be walked between pursuing the object of your admiration and obsessing over them, so Diavolo had resigned himself to a purely professional connection between him and Lucifer. He had resigned himself to courteous nods, secret glances, shoulders brushing in the heat of war.

Lucifer smoothed down his clothes before turning towards the door. With one last look at Diavolo, he pressed down the handle.

“Barbatos wanted to talk to you about business. But you heard him, so there's no need for me to tell you twice.” The door slammed closed.

Seconds passed as Diavolo simply stared at the door.

Something felt off, yet he couldn't tell what had gone wrong. Even as he thought about it intensely and thoroughly, he didn't know what he'd done wrong. Still, Diavolo couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone awfully awry.

Perhaps it was really time for him to go and see Barbatos.

Lucifer walked down the hallway in a hurried pace.

He had been an utter fool. Of course, Diavolo would have overheard his conversation with Barbatos.

Of course, Barbatos had never explicitly stated that Lucifer was in love with Diavolo, yet even a stranger could have been able to gather all of the evidence that had been dropped in that conversation and figured out that Lucifer was undeniably in love with Diavolo.

Though he often had his dense moments, Diavolo certainly wasn't dumb. Actually, the demon prince was incredibly intelligent, scarily so. There was no way he hadn't it all figured out. Perhaps he had known all along.

To say he had been rejected was much easier than the actual truth. Not only had Lucifer been rejected, he had also harshly been told to just move on.

His lungs weighed heavily under that truth, spores and roots choking him considerably more violently than before.

Akin to the way a mortician would tend to a new body, Lucifer made his way to the next bathroom he could find, checking if he could feel any other demons nearby, then locking himself in the next best bathroom stall before leaning down to the toilet, one hand placed on the stall's wall to steady himself; a routine. Roses, white and blue in an unholy union, loyalty and the one thing he could never have, pouring down the pipes.

Lucifer used a wad of toilet paper to clean up the trail of saliva and blood that had dripped down his chin, almost sullying his clothes.

For a few more moments he stared at the rose petals that were almost clogging up the pipes. Lucifer mustered the blue-white mess, his chest void of any kind of emotion.

They were almost taunting him.

A certain sort of numbness crawled through his bones and suddenly, Lucifer smashed the hand that'd been holding him up harshly against the stall. With a loud cracking noise the wall gave in, shaking violently as bits and pieces dropped to the ground, leaving a huge hole behind.

A loud shriek emerged from the neighbouring stall Lucifer had just punched a hole into. As he looked through it, at first he couldn't make out anything that could've caused that ear-piercing sound.

Annoyed, Lucifer stuck his head through the hole and looked around more carefully, peering down.

Below the hole cowered one of his brothers, shielding his head with both of his arms before reluctantly looking up.

“Levi.”

Leviathan stared at his older brother for a moment, his big orange eyes never wavering.

That calculating gaze of his made Lucifer shiver. He felt like his brother could see right through him.

“I- is there anything you wanted from me, Lucifer?” Levi eventually asked, sweat pearling down his temple. He removed his hands from the top of his head and used them to prop himself off the ground instead. Quickly, he tried to dust off his pants but failed miserably in doing so, and then took a few steps back to lean against the wall opposite the hole.

“Why would I seek you out so I could talk to you through bathroom stalls?” Lucifer asked quizzically as he leaned against the wall as well, resting one arm lazily on the frayed edges of the newly formed hole. He could already feel a migraine coming on.

Levi cleared his throat. “Well, in the graphic novel 'My heart keep racing whenever I look at you but we are childhood friends who are cursed to stay five feet apart from each other so I couldn't possibly love you!' the main character and his best friend always meet up in the bathroom during their lunch break so they could discuss their-”

Lucifer interrupted him before he could find himself stuck with one of Levi's infamous rants.

“Leviathan.”

The demon in question quickly stopped talking. Hearing Lucifer use his full name never promised much good. ”Y-yeah?” he asked, but then remembered the exact situation he had gotten himself into. A situation so peculiar that it almost reeked of dramatic potential. For a moment, he mustered his surroundings in confusion. Right, there was a hole in the wall of the bathroom stall.

“There's a hole in the wall,” he mumbled, trying to suppress the unyielding urge to play detective. He raised his head again and looked at his brother. Based on the evidence he had gathered, there was only one conclusion to this mystery. “There's a considerably big hole in the wall, the only suspects in this case are me and Lucifer. There's no way I'm the perpetrator, except if you consider the possibility of an unreliable narrator, which I don't think I am, so there's only one possibility left,” Levi mumbled as he pointed at Lucifer. “You're the only one!”

Lucifer stared at him blankly, unblinkingly. “Get out of here,” he simply stated. He was in no way in the mood to deal with his hikkikomori brother's shenanigans. Truthfully, he was rarely in the mood to deal with Levi's obsessive otaku ramblings.

Levi took a small step towards the hole and stuck his neck around the corner, spying past Lucifer.

“What's that?” he asked, pointing towards the toilet overflowing with petals and rose buds. “Huh?”

His eyes dashed from the toilet to Lucifer and back again, travelling back and forth over and over again. “Huh? Huh huh huh? HUH?!”

All of a sudden, Lucifer slammed his hand flat against the stall and put his head through the hole he had created minutes prior. “You didn't see anything. If you did, I will not hesitate to burn your whole Ruri-chan collection to a crisp,” he threatened, his eyes gleaming dangerously in the sub-par bathroom lighting.

With a loud bang Levi hit the back of the stall as he had taken several steps back in fear. He clenched his shirt and panted heavily. “You wouldn't!” he exclaimed, eyes desperate.

Instead of giving an answer Lucifer simply stared at him, a deranged smile slowly starting to spread over his face. “Oh?”

“You're smiling. Why  are you smiling like that, this isn't good. Don't look at me like that, Lucifer! Please spare my Ruri-chan collection, she's the only thing that's worth living for! You wouldn't want to be the reason for your little brother's suicide now, would you-”

Lucifer grabbed the edges of the hole with both of his hands. “Stop it. Come here,” he growled, staring at his brother intensely.

Levi didn't move one bit.

“Come. Here. “

Reluctantly, Levi approached his brother who mustered him with a deadly glare. Before he could say anything, Lucifer sighed. “Don't talk like that, Levi. We've been through this, your presence at RAD is important and needed. Don't talk yourself down like that. You are my sibling and the third oldest of us all, take pride in that.” He reached through the hole and put his hand on his brothers shoulder. All in all, it was a peculiar and somewhat awkward situation. Neither of them knew how to react.

Finally, Lucifer pulled back and massaged his temples. “Now leave. I'm busy with preparations. Tell the others that it would be to their best interest if they managed to stay out of my way for once.”

“Ah, yes, sure, ” Levi mumbled as he left the bathroom stall. After having washed his hands, he made his way towards the music room.

Taken aback, by Lucifer's sudden kindness, he had almost forgotten what he had left his room for to begin with.

“There you are,” Barbatos said as the door opened and Levi entered the music room. All of his brothers except for Lucifer were already there and evidently, he was the last one to join them. He plopped down on the couch next to Satan.

Then, the doors opened once again and Diavolo entered the room.

“Lord Diavolo,” Barbatos started as he caught sight of the demon prince.

“What does this mean, explain yourself.”

Barbatos locked eyes with Asmodeus for a short moment as they both nodded.

“Lord Diavolo, this is an intervention.”

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 , Chapter 7, Chapter 8,Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

*nsfw chapter

taglist:  @el-does-photography​

[wordsablaze]

you’re in my veins (and i cannot get you out)

Most people think witchers are too sharp and bards are too soft but most people don't know anything because Geralt and Jaskier manage to settle on indefinitely weaving their lives together...

A/N: title is from 'in my veins' by andrew belle and it's an angsty song but this is fluffy bc i just needed some fluff in my life and i'm so soft for these idiots being soft for each other-

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Witchers are weapons.

It's in their unnatural nature, their mutations, their enhanced ability to fight the monsters that most people can't even begin to fathom in their wildest nightmares.

Witchers are powerful, dangerous, fearsome, not to be messed with under any circumstance.

Unless you're Jaskier.

Because Jaskier is not like most people.

Jaskier takes one look at Geralt and decides that the brooding figure in the corner will make for the finest company.

Decides that piercing eyes and unnatural hair are something to be respected, admired, used as inspiration for ballads.

Decides that the tales about a butcher are wrong and that he's personally responsible for changing people's views.

Decides that travelling with a witcher is more exciting than the bread in his pants - although that particular decision is understandable.

Geralt is used to a sharp life, a life filled with sharp claws and sharp insults and sharp weapons that act as an extension of his sharp self.

It’d taken him years to become accustomed to the sharp tricks of mages, the sharp transactions of fearful townsfolk, the sharp smell of being alone.

And then Jaskier quite literally saunters into Geralt's path and his life is suddenly filled with softness - soft words, soft tunes, soft hands, soft looks, the soft scent of flowers and sincerity .

And Geralt doesn’t always know how to react to so much softness, doesn’t know if he's meant to accept or reject it.

Jaskier makes the choice for him.

He sticks around and sings nothing but praises and washes all the entrails out of Geralt’s hair without asking. He invites himself into contracts and talks enough for the both of them and feeds Roach sugar cubes when he thinks Geralt isn’t looking. He refuses to stay behind and adds spices to their food and never fails to throw a wink Geralt’s way during a performance.

And Geralt?

Geralt begins to accept it.

He begins to like it.

It’s alarming how he falls into the pattern of looking forward to Jaskier’s softness whenever they split and how he finds a strange comfort in being reunited with said softness.

He doesn’t know how to convey that to Jaskier, but he tries.

When Jaskier all but drags him to royal events, he grumbles but rarely refuses, even if he’s persuaded to forgo his armour. When Jaskier repeats the same verse over and over and over in attempts to perfect it, he patiently tunes it out instead of interrupting. When Jaskier stops complaining about being tired and goes quiet, he lets them take a break or stop for the night.

And he knows Jaskier is correctly translating his actions because for all his endless charm, the bard has one particularly bright and soft smile reserved only for those moments, for Geralt .

And it’s not by any means an easy process but eventually, Geralt shares his own soft smiles with Jaskier.

And Jaskier?

Jaskier melts .

He briefly stops whatever he’s doing every time Geralt smiles at him, whether it’s walking or eating or complaining or singing, although he’s professional enough not to let it ruin performances.

It’s equally hilarious as it is endearing.

But it’s also worrying.

Geralt worries that becoming soft will be his downfall, it’s the only reason he’d ended up with a child surprise after all, and he worries that his sharpness will hurt Jaskier, will corrupt the softness that surrounds him in everything he does.

And then he’s pleasantly surprised when Jaskier not so softly wishes a painful demise upon a rival, and again when he none too softly sings away the reputation of an innkeeper who’d insulted Geralt, and then again when he far from softly shatters his lute over the head of a mage during their monologue.

And again and again and again and again .

Until Geralt is forced to admit that Jaskier may be soft but he is not limited by his softness.

Until Geralt starts to believe Jaskier in that if a bard can be soft and yet sharp at the same time, then maybe a witcher can be sharp and yet soft at the same time.

Until Geralt realises that the only way he can truly harm Jaskier is if he keeps trying so hard not to.

Jaskier waits patiently for Geralt to set aside his sharp misconceptions and start accepting that truth and as soon as he does, things change.

Not drastically.

But Jaskier becomes more inclined to drape himself over Geralt when he’s tired, more inclined to press himself into Geralt’s side when he feels threatened, more inclined to braid flowers into Geralt’s hair without even noticing he’s doing it.

And Geralt?

Geralt craves it.

He keeps telling Jaskier he doesn’t need anyone but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want anyone - no, not anyone , he wants a very specific someone , a someone that freely gives himself up to Geralt for some reason.

He keeps telling Jaskier that he doesn’t want anyone to need him but he thinks he might need someone to need him, a specific someone that always needs him and looks to him for safety and causes warmth to spread inside Geralt’s bones.

As much as he tries to deny it, Geralt is fond of Jaskier.

It might be a little more than just fondness but he’s not sure he’s ready to admit that.

So he does his best to make sure Jaskier knows how much he’s appreciated.

He indulges Jaskier’s whims of buying new fruits and desserts that they don’t necessarily need and allows Jaskier to ride Roach if he’s upset or tired and occasionally offers his input on a new song.

He stands behind Jaskier at banquets so nobody can attack him and he all but growls at anyone who dares insult him in taverns and he may or may not turn a blind eye when Jaskier gets into sharp fights where he’s the sole survivor.

And Jaskier?

Jaskier adores it.

He lives for it.

There is nothing in the world he loves quite as much as Geralt’s soft ways of expressing affection.

Sure, his capacity for verbal indications of emotion is close to non-existent and often becomes infuriatingly difficult to decipher, but Jaskier is mostly willing to overlook that because everything else usually makes up for it.

And the two of them settle into a rhythm in which their lives are irrevocably intertwined and even the worst of pain can’t pull them apart because apologies will always eventually tumble from their lips until they find forgiveness.

They settle into a rhythm where Geralt uses his swords to softly protect Jaskier and Jaskier uses his charm to sharply protect Geralt and everything they do is linked back to one another in some kind of way.

Their rhythm takes root in their hearts and their minds and their very blood because Destiny or not, the two of them are undeniably connected in a way that so few souls are and although they’re very different, their connection is implicit.

So it almost comes as a surprise when, one day, after Yennefer and Ciri have retired themselves to bed so they can not-so-secretly practice how to throw hexes, Jaskier curls himself into Geralt’s side and whispers a soft, sleepy “I love you”

and instead of humming quietly in response or pulling Jaskier closer and placing a kiss on his forehead as he usually does, Geralt softly whispers back, “I love you too.”

Almost.

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me? writing a fic about a designated chatterbox and only giving him one line of dialogue? more likely than you think... but anyway, hope you enjoyed :)

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thanks for reading! masterlist