#angst to fluff

[aesthetically-dying101]

Wifed Up (extended)

A/N: i felt bad for excluding Choso and Hiruguma so i'm fixing my sins, angst ahead, but happy ending

Wifed Up.

Characters: Choso and Hiruguma

Hiromi Higuruma stood frozen in the dim bathroom, his breath coming shallow and uneven as he stared at the small ceramic dish by the sink. The bandage he’d come looking for was long forgotten, the paper cut on his finger dripping faint smudges of red onto the countertop. He didn’t notice.

All he could see were the rings.

Your rings.

Your engagement band, delicate and familiar, nestled perfectly against the gold wedding ring he had slid onto your finger with trembling hands not so long ago. The sight of them sitting there together, so casually discarded, made his chest feel tight, constricting like a vice.

Hiromi knew he was overreacting.

Knew it in the same way he knew it was irrational to feel a flare of panic whenever he didn’t see your car in the driveway right away or when you didn’t answer his texts promptly.

But knowing didn’t stop his mind from spiraling.

The house was quiet—too quiet. The stillness pressed in on him, filling the space where your laughter or humming or the soft rhythm of your footsteps should have been. You weren’t here. And worse, you hadn’t told him where you’d gone.

He leaned heavily against the sink, gripping the edge as if anchoring himself. His rational side—the one that argued cases in court and dismantled testimonies with surgical precision—urged him to calm down, to think it through.

But the other part of him, the insecure part he hated to admit existed, whispered insidiously: She doesn’t love you anymore.

Hiromi’s stomach churned.

He thought about the cases he’d been working lately—the divorce proceedings, the infidelity accusations, the custody battles that turned people into strangers. He thought about the bitter, exhausted faces of the clients who sat across from him in his office, recounting stories of betrayal and abandonment.

He thought about the long hours he’d been putting in recently, leaving you alone too often. About the way your smiles had seemed a little smaller, a little dimmer, when he dragged himself home after midnight.

And now… your rings.

His mind went there, unbidden: the worst-case scenario, the one he couldn’t stop picturing. You, meeting someone else. Someone who had more time for you. Someone who made you feel seen in a way he hadn’t been able to lately.

The thought made him feel sick.

Hiromi straightened abruptly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t stand in this empty bathroom with those damn rings staring back at him. He paced into the hallway, the hardwood floor creaking under his weight, his ears straining for any sign of you.

Nothing.

He checked his phone, scrolling through your last messages, reading them over like they held some kind of hidden code. They didn’t. The last thing you’d sent was a simple, casual text: Running errands, don’t wait up.

Running errands.

What kind of errands require taking off your wedding ring?

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe deeply, evenly. He wasn’t this kind of man—jealous, paranoid. He’d always prided himself on trusting you implicitly. But tonight, something inside him felt frayed, unraveling at the edges.

The sound of the front door unlocking cut through his spiraling thoughts like a gunshot. Hiromi stiffened, his head snapping toward the sound. A moment later, the door creaked open, and he heard the soft shuffle of shoes being kicked off, followed by your familiar voice.

“Hiromi? You home?”

He couldn’t answer.

His throat felt tight, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Relief that you were back, anger at the hours of silence, fear at the implications of the rings you’d left behind.

You appeared in the doorway moments later, your hands full of shopping bags and your hair slightly disheveled. You smiled when you saw him, the kind of easy, radiant smile that had always been your default. But tonight, he couldn’t quite bring himself to return it.

“Hey,” you said, setting the bags down on the counter. “What’s wrong? You look—” You stopped mid-sentence, your gaze falling to his bandaged hand. “What happened to your finger?”

Hiromi ignored the question, his voice low and strained. “Where were you?”

The shift in his tone made you pause, your brow furrowing.

“What?”

“Where were you?” he repeated, sharper this time, his eyes searching yours. “You didn’t tell me you’d be gone so long.”

“I told you I was running errands,” you said slowly, clearly confused by his intensity.

“And your rings?” He gestured toward the bathroom, his hand trembling slightly. “Why would you take them off? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Realization dawned on your face, and your eyes softened immediately. “Oh, Hiromi…”

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” His voice cracked, and he hated it, hated how small and vulnerable he sounded. “Or did you just think I wouldn’t care?”

“Wait, you think—” You cut yourself off, taking a step closer to him, your hands lifting as if to calm him. “Hiromi, it’s not what you’re thinking. I—”

“Then explain,” he demanded, his voice raw. “Because I’ve been running every scenario in my head, and none of them are good.”

Your lips parted, and for a moment, you just looked at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the pain in his eyes. When you spoke, your voice was quiet but firm.

“Come here.”

He didn’t move.

“Hiromi,” you said again, stepping closer, your hands reaching for his. “Let me explain.”

Reluctantly, he let you take his hands, your thumbs brushing over his knuckles. “I was working on something for you,” you said softly. “For our anniversary.”

He blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Pottery,” you clarified, your lips quirking into a small, apologetic smile. “I’ve been taking classes, and I wanted to surprise you. I was making you a coffee cup, and I didn’t want to ruin my rings with clay.”

His throat felt tight again, but for a different reason this time. Relief washed over him, leaving him almost dizzy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Because I wanted it to be a surprise,” you said, squeezing his hands. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m so sorry, Hiromi.”

He exhaled shakily, his head bowing forward until his forehead rested against yours. “I thought… I thought I was losing you,” he admitted, the words breaking apart as they left him.

“Never,” you whispered, your hands moving to cradle his face. “You’re not losing me. You’ll never lose me.”

You guided him gently to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing him back just enough to loosen the tension in his frame. “Relax,” you murmured, your hands trailing to his tie.

“Y-You don’t have to—” he started, but you cut him off with a soft smile.

“Tell me about your day,” you urged, undoing the knot of his tie with practiced ease.

“I…” He faltered, but the warmth in your gaze encouraged him. As he spoke, hesitantly at first, your hands moved lower, undoing his zipper and grounding him in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

By the time he was done, his heart no longer felt like it was on trial.

Choso’s gaze was glued to the nightstand, where the broken chain lay, said chain that was usually around your neck. His breath hitched in his throat as his hands trembled, hovering over the delicate rings.

Her rings.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, the frantic beat drowning out every other sound in the room.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t understand. The metal chain, which had once held the most precious pieces of his life—his wife’s wedding and engagement rings—was now severed. The clasp had snapped, the delicate connection that held them together shattered. And that was the only thing that made sense.

But why were they there?

The rings never left her neck. Never. He could recall countless nights when he would find her sitting on the couch, fingers absently tracing the smooth metal of the rings. It was a comfort to her, just like it was to him. Or the times where that chain was the only he could focus on when she rode him. So why were they on the nightstand now? Why was the chain broken?

His mind raced, a thousand thoughts all crashing into each other, none of them making sense. The last time he had seen her, she had been perfectly fine—his Y/N. She had kissed him goodbye, smiled that soft smile of hers that made his heart flutter every time. She promised she would be back soon, but now…

Choso’s head spun.

Was she leaving him?

No. No, that couldn’t be right. She wouldn’t do that. She loved him. She had to.

But the image of the broken chain and the empty rings haunted him. She was gone. She must’ve left him. His hands clenched into fists, fighting back the lump in his throat, the panic that threatened to suffocate him. He had fought countless curses, stared down monsters and gods alike—but this… this was different. This wasn’t some mindless creature.

This was her.

And losing her—that was a battle he didn’t know how to fight.

His chest tightened with a pain that had nothing to do with physical wounds. His pulse raced, and for a moment, it felt like the air was being sucked out of the room. He stood frozen by the nightstand, his mind trying desperately to piece everything together, but all he could focus on was the fear that gripped him—the overwhelming terror that he had done something wrong, something unforgivable.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. He needed answers.

Where was she? Why wasn’t she back yet?

He needed her to tell him everything was okay, that the rings didn’t mean what he thought they did.

But before he could spiral any further, he heard the faintest click of the door, followed by the sound of soft footsteps in the hallway. His breath caught in his chest.

Was she back?

The door opened slowly, and his heart leaped into his throat. There she was. Standing in the doorway, her eyes meeting his, but there was something in them—something unreadable. His heart fluttered, but the same suffocating dread still gnawed at him.

You closed the door quietly behind you, your gaze flicking to the nightstand, where the broken chain lay. Choso didn’t move. He couldn’t. His body was frozen, his breath shallow, as his eyes flicked between you and the rings.

"Y/N..." His voice cracked. "Where… where were you? Why are the rings… why are they on the nightstand?" His words were desperate, choked with emotion.

You took a deep breath, stepping closer, your fingers slowly running over the broken clasp on the chain. The sight of the broken metal seemed to deflate some of his frantic energy, but the tension still gripped his chest.

"Choso…" You began softly, your voice soothing but firm. “It’s not what you think.”

His brow furrowed as he stared at the broken chain, his mind still spinning, still fighting against the fear. “Then… what is it? Why are they—”

“They broke.” You cut him off, holding the chain up to his eye level, showing him the clasp that had snapped. “It wasn’t intentional, Choso. It’s old. It just gave out.” You reached out, placing your hand gently over his. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

His gaze remained fixed on the chain, his breath steadying as you spoke, but there was still a sharp edge of doubt in his eyes. He wasn’t sure whether to believe you, but your touch, the warmth of your skin against his, was grounding him.

“Y/N…” His voice dropped to a whisper, his tone heavy with the weight of his emotions. “I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”

You let out a small, pained laugh, lifting his chin so his eyes met yours. “I’m not going anywhere, Choso. I swear.”

But still, there was something in his gaze—something that made it clear he wasn’t fully convinced. His eyes searched yours, looking for something, anything that could reassure him. The rings had always been there. They were your rings, symbols of a bond that had been forged in love and trust. And now, with the chain broken and his mind racing with a thousand doubts, he feared the worst.

He stepped forward, his hand reaching for your waist, pulling you into him as if the sheer force of his grip would keep you there, right in front of him.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with vulnerability. “Don’t leave me.”

You cupped his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek, smiling softly at his desperate need for reassurance. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for making him feel this way, even though you knew there was nothing to apologize for.

“I’m here, Choso,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his forehead. “I’m here, and I always will be.”

He closed his eyes, his body finally relaxing against yours, his heart beginning to calm, though the fear still lingered like a shadow. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the lingering anxiety, as if he was waiting for something to prove that you wouldn’t disappear again.

But before you could reassure him further, his lips found yours in a kiss that was both frantic and tender. The moment your lips met, the world seemed to stop—his hands cupped your face, holding you as if his life depended on it. He kissed you like a man starved, pulling you closer, as if he needed to absorb every ounce of you to make sure you were real. His kiss was deep, searching, and it made your heart race in return.

You responded in kind, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, the softness of his locks contrasting against the urgency of his kiss. You could feel his breath quicken, his heartbeat pounding against your chest as he tried to ground himself in the reality that you were there with him, not leaving.

He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, breathing heavily. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A soft smile played on your lips as you ran your fingers along the outline of his jaw, your thumb tracing the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, your voice gentle, but unwavering.

Choso’s hands slid down your body, pulling you even closer, the tension finally ebbing away as you melted into him. His lips trailed down to your neck, pressing soft, slow kisses along your skin. The touch was slow at first, almost reverent, as if he were savoring every moment of having you near. But as the kiss deepened, the heat between you both ignited, a fire that burned away the remnants of doubt.

“Let me make it up to you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands moving with a purpose now, gently but insistently.

You arched into him, your breath hitching at the intensity of his touch. “Make it up to me?” you teased, your hands trailing down his back, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingertips. “You don’t have to.”

But Choso’s grip on you tightened, and he pulled you closer, his voice low and rough. “I need to show you how much you mean to me. How much you always will.”

You let out a soft laugh, lips curling into a smile as you tangled your hands in his hair once more, pulling him into another kiss, this one slow and deliberate. His hands roamed over your body, taking his time, as though every inch of you was something he cherished. His lips found yours again, a kiss that was deep, full of love, full of desperation and need.

The night stretched on like that, the broken chain forgotten, the rings still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be fixed. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

You were there. He was there. And nothing could tear you apart.

A/N: yayyy, i hope y'all liked it, the choso one is so corny

Masterlist

:)

[frogzxch]

The what if's for today

Pairing's: Trueform!RyomenSukuna x Concubine!Reader

Summery: what if Sukuna founds another woman and replaced reader but imma make it a happy ending lol

You we're his favorite back then, You use to get whatever you want and get away with things that if anybody do it they die by the hands of the king himself but what if he finds another concubine? When you we're about to greet him after he comes back to the temple, you suddenly stop your tracks after seeing him carrying another woman in a bridal style and the woman was touching your beloved face like it's nothing, you hesitated if you wanted to greet him and ask him who she was but you just walk away as fast as you can so you wouldn't see him, after few weeks has pass you grew distance from him, looking at the girl she looks like a goddess with the blonde long hair and the jade colored eyes it truly made you insecure about yourself as you only look like the rest of the concubine.

Sukuna started wonder where you we're he got curious that his little lily doesn't go to him that much from the past few weeks he only thought you we're busy Sukuna then look for you asking the servants where you were the servants didn't have a clue as well this made Sukuna irritated and then he goes to the place where you always go, The garden. So he went there and he saw you looking all sad and he sees how your eyes we're red from crying from last night Sukuna realized it that you we're just jealous about the new woman.

You didn't notice he was behind you and you suddenly twitch when felt two arms got your hip and then raise you up spinning your around facing him you suddenly look up at Sukuna with wide eyes and you quickly try to hide your face but Sukuna raise your chin to make you look up at him "My little lily what's wrong?" He spoke gently "You haven't greeted your king for the past few weeks" he whisper to your ears and it made you tremble you just instantly hugged him and cried more he then rubs your back and he brought you inside the temple again after some talking he kissed your forehead then your lips, ever since that day Sukuna never brings another lowly woman to make his dearest concubine upset.

As for the girl she begin to act all mighty and she even picks on you whenever Sukuna wasn't around she keep reminding you that Sukuna doesn't care about you and that you we're pathetic. One afternoon Sukuna was gonna go home late as usual the girl comes towards you in the garden and she smirks at you, you we're confuse " what do you want now.. " you we're feeding the fish in the pond when suddenly you got push down to the pond the girl spoke out " what do I want? I want your place. " you we're struggling as she keep putting your head down the water attempting to drown you, when suddenly it stop you quickly got up and started to breath again then you look beside you and the girl was on the ground lifeless then you look behind to see Sukuna furious he walks towards you and he put his kimono around you and he pulled you close and you two went back inside " Clean the mess outside Uruame " he commanded with a velvety voice you look up at him " I thought you will be home late? " his lower set of eyes looks at you and he chuckled and smirk " why are you asking that? After you almost die..from that pest " he sounded mad and you just stayed quite, then when you both arrived inside his chambers he made you changed into a new clothe and he sat you down on his bed as he also lay down beside you, you smiled softly " Silly woman. " he chuckled and kiss you then you both finally have a good rest.

[sweeturavity]

𝓘 𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 , 𝓘’𝓜 𝓢𝓞𝓡𝓡𝓨

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇. . your relationship with katsuki was always rocky. you constantly argued because his way of showing love was harsh and misunderstood, leading to your breakup. but neither of you could move on easily. katsuki, realizing his mistakes, decided to make it up to you in his own way.

afab! reader , angst to fluff , katsuki being a dick , pro hero! katsuki , nicknames ,

mentions of y/n , SMUT ﾉ suggestive , mdni﹙　18+　﹚, female body anatomy﹙　?　﹚ ྀིྀི

you can’t quite pinpoint when love and hate began to tangle together in your relationship with katsuki. there’s always been that push-and-pull between you , the tension that lives in his silence. he’s never been one to express himself easily; the words you long to hear—‘i love you’ —are words he’s never said. he’s never fought for you , never chased after you when you argued or when you felt like slipping away. he just. . let things be. and that quiet acceptance sometimes hurts more than any argument ever could.

five years. five years with katsuki bakugou, a whirlwind of moments, both wonderful and aching. you know who he is , the fiery , stubborn , infuriatingly handsome boy who lit up your world when you first met in high school. you’ve always known he was tough to read , his walls high and impenetrable , but you’d fallen for him anyway. you thought that maybe your love , your patience , would be enough to reach him. when you finally confessed , he didn’t say it back. but he didn’t push you away , either; he accepted , just as he was , without promises , without declarations.

and even now , you’re still here , still hoping that someday he’ll let you in fully. that he’ll say what he’s never said, do what he’s never done. because despite the doubts , despite the hurt , you can’t help but love him—love him fiercely , stubbornly , just as he is.

everyone warned you about katsuki. friends , family , even random strangers—everyone seemed to have an opinion on the fiery boy you’d fallen for. but honestly? at the time , you couldn’t care less. you were infatuated , blinded by the sparks of his personality , by the way his eyes lit up with passion when he talked about his dreams. you thought you could break through those walls , that your patience and understanding would be enough to unlock his heart.

but oh boy , weren’t they right. his mother , mitsuki , always told you he was a hard nut to crack. you’d laughed it off at first , brushing it aside with a confident smile, convinced that love would triumph over everything. yet here you were, five years later , and the silence from him was deafening. not a single ‘I love you.’ not a hint of vulnerability. just the same stubborn façade that had you questioning everything.

as time passed , your patience began to crack , slowly but surely. every day felt like a reminder of the things left unsaid , the feelings left unexpressed. you’d catch glimpses of his warmth—his laughter , the rare soft smile just for you—but it never seemed to translate into the words you craved. each moment of silence became heavier , weighing on your heart like an anchor , and the confidence you once had began to erode.

you still loved him , fiercely , but doubt crept in like a shadow. was it enough? were you enough? the reality was that despite your best efforts , you were starting to feel like an outsider in your own relationship , waiting in vain for a signal that might never come.

everything about your love life felt like a curse , a twisted joke from the universe. you never experienced love before , but you’ve dreamt about it for years—the warmth , the passion , the feeling of truly belonging to someone. you’d imagined soft moments , whispered promises , the kind of love that felt like home. but this . . this didn’t feel like that. it didn’t feel like love was supposed to feel. it felt heavy , lonely , as if you were always reaching out but never quite touching something real.

while your friends gushed about romantic dates , surprise kisses , and the happiness that filled their relationships , you sat in silence , wondering what went wrong. their stories were full of laughter and light , a stark contrast to the quiet ache you felt beside katsuki. you’d listen , smile along , but inside you were haunted by a constant, nagging question: why didn’t you feel that way? why didn’t he look at you like that , say the things that seemed to come so naturally for others?

you’d tried to be patient , tried to believe that maybe he just showed his love differently , that if you gave it time , he’d finally let you in. but time only deepened the silence , and slowly , you began to wonder if you were holding onto something that was never truly yours. it hurt , this slow realization , the feeling that maybe you’d been holding on to a dream rather than a real connection. you wanted to feel loved , wanted to feel seen. but with katsuki , love felt like a distant memory of a dream , something almost within reach but never fully there.

one night , you decided to put everything on the line. you’d planned it out , every last detail , determined to remind both of you of why you started this journey together. you asked katsuki if he was free , and he’d say yes , maybe a little distracted , but you brushed it off. there was something special waiting for him at your place—a surprise that you’d poured your heart into. you’d spent hours cooking his favorite dishes , setting the table with candles and flowers , creating the kind of evening you’d always dreamed of sharing with him.

but as the hours ticked by , the food grew cold , the candles burned down , and the flowers began to wilt. you sat there , waiting , glancing at your phone every few minutes , hoping for a message , a call—something. nothing came. when he finally showed up , it was late , too late for the carefully prepared meal or the soft ambiance you worked so hard to create. he walked in with an air of indifference , unaware of how much you’d poured into the evening.

in that moment , something in you finally snapped. you looked at the ruined evening—the cold food , the candles reduced to melted puddles , the flowers that had lost their bloom—and felt the weight of all the times you waited , hoped , and compromised. all the moments you’d convinced yourself that he cared , that maybe , just maybe , this time would be different. but here you were , watching your hopes fade in front of you , just like the evening you’d planned for him.

you took a shaky breath , feeling a strange calm wash over you. this wasn’t anger—it was clarity. you had finally , truly had enough.

“Y/N , baby—’m so sorry. i lost—” katsuki’s voice was a fragile whisper , breaking through the steady drum of rain pounding outside. his eyes flickered with something that looked like regret , but it was too little , too late.

“don’t.” you interrupted , your voice barely a rasp. “don’t say my name like that. like i’m—” your throat tightened , and you struggled to get the words out. “like i’m someone you don’t know.” the words were raw , cutting , and they hung in the space between you , filling the room with a quiet ache.

for so long , he’d kept you at a distance , holding you at arm’s length as if you were something fragile he didn’t dare get too close to. every feeling he had for you stayed carefully locked away , hidden beneath layers of pride , fear, and the barriers he’d built around his heart. you tried to break through , to reach him , but every time , he’d shut you out , leaving you to wonder if you’d imagined all the small signs of affection he’d shown.

“do you think I’m some idiot who can’t see through you?” you said , your voice trembling, thick with the weight of all the frustration and heartache you’d bottled up. “do you think I can’t tell that you don’t care? that you—” your voice cracked , and you took a shaky breath. “that you don’t love me?”

katsuki flinched , as if your words had struck him like a physical blow. you could see the truth of it in his face , that same feeling he’d always tried so hard to deny , now surfacing in the vulnerable look in his eyes. he was terrified , and you realized that maybe that was what he’d been fighting all along—not you , but the depth of his own feelings.

the silence between you stretched , heavy with the weight of things left unsaid , of love given but never fully returned. and in that silence , his defenses crumbled.

“angel. . i’m sorry” he whispered , voice so soft it barely reached you. there was a desperate ache in the way he looked at you now , like he was finally letting himself feel the things he’d buried deep down. but it wasn’t enough. not this time.

“why do you keep saying sorry? like I’m some mistake you made?” you asked , stepping closer. “you think this is easy for me? that it doesn’t hurt every time i try to reach you and you pull away? I’m— I’m trying here , katsuki. i need you to try , too.”

his gaze flickering with an intensity you hadn’t seen before. his breathing was unsteady , his walls slowly , painfully crumbling.

“i’m scared , okay?” his words were raw , almost broken. “scared of losing you. scared of . .messin’ this up. i don’t know how to do this , how to keep you close without—without breakin’ everything.”

“katsuki , i can’t keep doing this.”

your words were a crack in his armor , one he wasn’t ready for. he wanted to snap back , to make you regret for all of this , to push you away like he always did when he felt too much. but the look in your eyes kept him silent.

“i’ve been patient.” you continued , looking down at your hands. “i’ve tried to understand you , tried to get close , but. . you won’t let me.”

“it’s not . .it’s not that simple.” he muttered , his voice low and rough.

you shook your head , a sad smile crossing your lips. “it is that simple. you either care or you don’t , and right now , it feels like you’re just. . holding me at arm’s length.”

the pain in your voice sliced through him , but bakugo couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. he’d never been good with this— with emotions , with words. he’d been raised to be tough , to be the best , to never show weakness. but he couldn’t ignore the ache in his chest when he looked at you , the emptiness that gnawed at him whenever you weren’t around.

still , his words came out colder than he intended. “i didn’t ask you to wait for me.” he said harshly , fists clenched so hard they shook.

you almost wanted to yell , to throw back that same intensity he so often used , to let him feel even a fraction of the frustration and heartache that had been building up inside you. but instead , you stayed silent , staring at him , the anger in your chest giving way to a heavy , aching sadness. tears blurred your vision , slipping out before you could stop them , and the hurt in your gaze was unmistakable.

it was almost like he was blaming you—for loving him , for trying , for giving him everything you had while he held back. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing , couldn’t believe that he was standing there , looking at you with that guarded expression , while you were breaking right in front of him. all the times you’d put yourself out there , all the times you’d tried to be patient , to understand , to give him the space he needed—only to be met with walls he refused to lower.

he seemed to falter at the sight of your tears , his own frustration fading as he saw the hurt in your eyes. “damn it , angel , I—” he reached out , hand hovering near your shoulder , but he didn’t close the distance. you could tell he didn’t know how to fix this , didn’t know how to bridge the gap he created between you.

the words tumbled out before you could stop them , low and broken. “it feels like i’m being punished for loving you.” you whispered. “like every time I try , every time I give you another piece of me , you just. . push me further away.”

his face fell , the sharpness in his gaze softening as he took in the weight of your words. he opened his mouth to say something , but nothing came out. you could see the conflict in his eyes , the same stubborn pride that had kept him from opening up , the fear he hid behind all his anger and silence. but tonight , you didn’t have the energy to wait for him to sort it out. you’d already waited too long.

“maybe i just . .expected too much.” you whispered , your voice barely audible as you brushed away a stray tear. “maybe i thought you’d love me back the way i love you.”

and with that , the silence between you grew deeper , filling the room with everything that had gone unsaid for too long.

“i don’t want to do this anymore— do you even love me back , katsuki?” you asked , your voice breaking as tears streamed down your red-tinted cheeks. you looked at him through your wet eyelashes , desperation and hurt mingling in your gaze , and he felt his heart clench at the sight. the question hung heavy in the air , almost suffocating , as if it were a storm cloud ready to burst.

katsuki stood frozen , unable to mutter a single word. the truth was written all over his face , a mixture of guilt and self-loathing swirling in his chest. he knew he’d messed up , that he was a jerk for keeping you at arm’s length when all you wanted was to be close. you deserved better than the asshole he was , better than the half-hearted love he had to offer. but deep down , a part of him couldn’t bear the thought of letting you go. he wanted to be selfish , to keep your love all to himself , even if it meant being the one who hurt you.

he took a shaky breath , torn between the overwhelming desire to reach out and pull you close and the reality that he might never be able to give you what you truly needed. “Y/N . .” he finally began , but the words fell away , lost in the weight of the moment. he wanted to tell you that he cared , that he felt something fierce and undeniable whenever he looked at you , but saying the words felt impossible.

the silence stretched painfully , each passing second feeling like a nail driven deeper into your heart. you could see it in his eyes—the turmoil , the confusion , the fear. and in that moment , you understood something fundamental: he was scared , scared of what loving you fully would mean , scared of losing you if he let himself go.

but fear wasn’t enough to excuse the pain he had caused. “i can’t keep pretending everything’s okay.” you said , voice shaking. “i can’t keep hoping you’ll change , hoping you’ll finally let me in.”

the tears continued to fall , and you felt a part of you breaking—maybe it was the part that had held onto hope for too long , or the part that had believed he could change. h you wanted him to fight for you , to show you that you were worth the risk. but right now , all you felt was the weight of uncertainty.

katsuki swallowed hard , the knot in his throat tightening as he faced the truth of your words. he wanted to be the man you deserved , to be someone who could love you back fully , without reservations. but how could he do that when he was still trying to understand his own feelings?.

it had been three weeks since katsuki walked away from you , his final words echoing in your mind like a bitter reminder of all that had gone wrong. ‘i can’t do this right now!’ he had shouted , frustration and pain etched into his features. it had felt like a slap , and you couldn’t hold back the tears when he turned and left.

days had turned into a haze of muted colors and empty spaces. you spent your nights staring at the ceiling , wondering where he was , if he was thinking of you. you kept your phone close , convinced that any moment would bring his name flashing across the screen. but as each day passed without a call or text , the silence became a weight you struggled to lift.

you missed his fiery spirit , his relentless energy. you missed the way he would challenge you , push you , and the way his laughter would fill the empty spaces. but you also remembered the moments of anger , the clashes that had turned into arguments, the way he would sometimes shut you out like a protective wall , pushing you away instead of leaning on you.

meanwhile , on the other side of the city , katsuki was wrestling with his own demons. he had thrown himself into training after leaving you , hoping that physical exhaustion would drown out the guilt gnawing at his insides. the usual exhilaration of pushing himself to his limits felt hollow without you there to share it with. each time he returned home , the silence greeted him like an old friend , and it was suffocating.

he tried to ignore it , to brush off the growing sense of emptiness that had replaced the warmth of your presence. but it clung to him , wrapped around his chest like a vice. he was a hero , dammit! he was supposed to be strong , to have everything under control. but without you , he felt nothing but chaotic and lost.

the memory of your last conversation replayed in his mind like an endless loop. you had asked him to be open , to share his feelings , but he had recoiled instead. he had let his pride take over , too stubborn to admit how much he cared , too scared to face the vulnerability that came with loving someone as deeply as he loved you.

weeks passed , and one evening , while staring out at the city lights from his window , it hit him hard. the realization was like a punch to the gut— he had pushed you away when all you wanted was to be there for him. he had messed up , let his anger cloud his judgment , and in doing so , he had left the one person who truly understood him.

katsuki tightened his fists , his nails biting into his palms. the pain was a shallow echo of the ache in his chest. he couldn't take it anymore. he was done running , done letting his pride and fear hold him hostage. he needed to see you , to fix what he had broken . . even if he didn’t know how.

that night , he stood outside your door , hesitating as his hand hovered over the wood. for the first time in years , he felt genuinely afraid—not of failure , not of danger , but of losing you for good. he finally knocked , his heart hammering in his chest as he heard the faint shuffle of footsteps on the other side.

when you opened the door , the sight of him stole your breath. his usually sharp , fiery eyes looked dim , weighed down by exhaustion and regret. for a moment , neither of you spoke , the silence brimming with the unspoken words of weeks apart.

“i—” katsuki started , his voice cracking slightly. he cleared his throat , looking away for a second before meeting your gaze again. “i’m sorry.”

those two words hit you like a wave , breaking through the walls you had built to keep the hurt at bay. but you stayed silent , waiting , needing to know what he truly felt.

“i was a damn idiot.” he admitted , his voice low but steady. “i let my own crap get in the way. i pushed you away when all you were trying to do was help me. and now i can’t stop thinking about you—about how much i screwed this up.”

“katsuki . .” your voice trembled as you spoke his name , a mix of pain and longing woven into the sound.

“i love you.” the words tumbled out of him , raw and unpolished. “i’ve never said it before because . . hell , i didn’t know how. but i do. i love you , and i’m sorry. i’m sorry for not showing it , for not saying it , for being such a damn mess.”

tears welled in your eyes as you felt the weight of his words. you had dreamed of hearing them for so long , but now they came wrapped in an apology , laced with the pain of the weeks apart. “i missed you.” you whispered , your voice barely audible. “i missed you so much , but i didn’t know if you missed me too. or if . . you were better off without me.”

katsuki shook his head vehemently , stepping closer. “never. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. i was just too much of an idiot to see it.”

you searched his eyes , looking for the truth in them , and what you found was unmistakable: vulnerability , regret , and a fierce kind of love that burned brighter than his usual fire. without thinking , you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him , kissing him like there was no tomorrow. he froze for a second before his arms came around your waist , holding you tightly , like he was afraid you might slip away.

“i love you too.” you murmured in-between the kiss , and you felt him exhale , a shuddering breath of relief.

your kiss deepened , turning into a heated make-out session as your fingers tangled in his blond locks , tugging softly yet firmly. he groaned against your lips , the sound vibrating through you and sending a rush of warmth to your core. his hands , strong and deliberate , slid down from your waist until they cupped your ass , squeezing with a mix of possession and adoration.

“gosh , missed ya s’much—my beautiful girl.” he murmured against your lips , his voice thick with longing. without breaking the kiss , he stepped fully into your apartment , closing the door behind him with a casual kick of his foot. his movements were confident , purposeful , as though he memorized every inch of your space during all the times he’d been here before.

he guided you toward the living room , his lips never straying far from yours , his hands mapping every curve of your body as if grounding himself in your presence. when the back of your legs brushed against the sofa , he gently pushed you down onto the cushions , finally breaking the kiss just enough to look into your eyes. his forehead rested against yours , his breath heavy and uneven , but his gaze was soft , almost reverent.

“been waiting for such an idiot like me.” he muttered , his thumb brushing over your cheek as he cupped your face. “and you still love me.” his lips quirked into a small , almost disbelieving smile , his eyes glinting with a mix of affection and determination. “let me make it up to you, sweet girl , yeah?”

you nodded eagerly , your breath hitching as his lips immediately found their way to your neck. he trailed hot , open-mouthed kisses along your skin , leaving marks in his wake—each one deliberate , each one claiming you in a way that made your head spin. his hands roamed your body , finding the hem of your top and tugging at it , patiently waiting for your response.

“can i take this off , princess?” he murmured against your neck , his voice husky and dripping with desire. his words sent a shiver down your spine , and you could only respond with a needy whine , your hands already reaching to help him. that was all the confirmation he needed.

with a grin tugging at his lips , he slowly lifted your shirt , his knuckles grazing your skin as he revealed more of you inch by inch. he paused for a moment , bending down to press soft , lingering kisses up your stomach. each kiss felt like fire against your skin , igniting a heat that spread through your entire body. his lips moved with a teasing slowness , savoring the way you reacted to him , your body arching slightly under his touch.

he finally pulled your top over your head , tossing it aside without a second thought , his gaze dropping to take you in. his lips curled into a lopsided smile , a mix of admiration and hunger in his eyes. “so damn gorgeous.” he muttered , his hands finding their way back to your waist as his mouth hovered just above yours , teasing yet full of promise.

his lips traveled down to your collarbone , placing slow , deliberate kisses along the delicate curve of your skin. each press of his mouth sent sparks through your body , leaving you breathless. his hands slid around your back , his fingers working deftly to unhook your bra. the soft click of the clasp was accompanied by his low whisper , “there we go , princess.”

your own hands , trembling slightly with anticipation , slipped under his shirt. your fingers traced over the hard planes of his chest and stomach , feeling every muscle beneath his warm skin. as your touch wandered , you couldn’t help but linger on the scars scattered across his body , remnants of the battles he’d fought. they told stories he rarely spoke of , and yet , as you ran your hands over them , he didn’t pull away. instead , he leaned into your touch , his breath hitching slightly as your fingers explored.

his shirt felt almost in the way now , a barrier between you and the heat of his body. your fingers curled at the hem , ready to tug it off, but before you could , he leaned back just enough to pull it over his head himself , tossing it aside like it was nothing. his gaze locked onto yours , burning and intense , as he leaned back in , his lips finding their way to the spot just below your ear. “keep touching me.” he murmured against your skin , his voice rough with need. “i love feeling your hands on me.”

and you did exactly as he told you , your hands exploring every inch of his skin as they slowly trailed lower , moving from his chest down to his toned stomach. each touch elicited a low , pleased rumble from deep in his throat , like he couldn’t get enough of the way your fingers felt on him. his hands , rough and eager , cupped your breasts , his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. the touch sent a wave of heat rushing through you , making your breath hitch.

his lips found yours again , this time with more urgency, as your hands dipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. your fingers brushed against the heat of his growing arousal , and he let out a shaky groan against your lips , his body stiffening slightly at the sensation. the sound was raw and needy , sending a thrill straight through you as you pressed your palm against him , feeling the firmness beneath your touch.

“damn , princess.” he muttered against your mouth , his voice low and strained as his grip on your chest tightened slightly. his forehead rested against yours , his breath coming in heavy pants as you continued to tease him. “you’re gonna drive me crazy.” his hips instinctively pressed into your hand , seeking more of the friction you were offering , and it made you realize just how much power you had over him in this moment.

after a few more minutes of him toying with your breasts , his tongue swirling around your nipples and his lips sucking gently until they were swollen and sensitive , you could feel the heat between you both becoming unbearable. every touch , every sound , every movement only added fuel to the fire that had been steadily building. your hand continued to tease him , your fingers brushing over the tip of his cock through the fabric , feeling the dampness that had already started to form. the soft groans he let out only encouraged you further.

but it wasn’t enough—not for either of you. the tension in the air was thick , almost suffocating , and when his lips left your chest to meet your gaze , his eyes were dark with unrestrained desire. “enough teasing , princess.” he muttered , his voice husky and rough as his hands gripped your waist firmly. “i need you.”

without wasting another second , he gently pushed you down , fully laying you back against the couch. his movements were hurried but careful , his hands tugging at your pants as he slid them off with ease , tossing them somewhere behind him. he didn’t even pause before yanking off his own sweatpants and boxers , the fabric pooling at his feet as he kicked them aside.

his gaze raked over your now nearly bare body , and the way he looked at you—like you were the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen—sent shivers down your spine. leaning down , he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips , pulling your panties to the side as his hands settling on either side of your hips as he positioned himself between your legs. “been dreaming about this , baby.” he whispered against your mouth , his voice dripping with sincerity and longing. “let me show you how much i’ve missed you.”

[g1rld1ary]

our names in the paper - footballer!james potter x fem!sports journalist!reader

wc: 11,151

cw: swearing, fade to black but suggestive moments?, smoking, slut-shaming, kissing

info: r and james are about 24, set in 2007ish solely for the romcom vibes. james is the equivalent of like David Beckham in his prime, all pics are for vibes only, not reflective of r's appearance etc

me: i've been working on this for soooo long i am so happy it's finally done!! if u couldn't tell it's very inspired by early 2000s romcoms and i am honestly so proud of it so praying it doesn't flop LOL

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"James, James! Over here! What's the defence strategy this season?"

If you had to hear James' name one more time you might scream. Unfortunately, you were locked in a room with nothing but that. Worse, you were part of the problem.

"Mister Potter, what do you think about your striker's goal-to-game ratio falling rapidly this season?" You called, begrudgingly hoping for a moment of the soccer star's attention. Fortunately (or unfortunately), his glittering eyes settled on you, singling you out from the room of hungry journalists.

"I think that you miss one hundred per cent of the shots you don't take," He said, smirk turning to something challenging, "And as long as my team is training and working together, I'm not gonna cry over a bit of spilt milk or missed goals. And, as far as I'm concerned we're still winning games, aren't we?" You rolled your eyes, scribbling down his answer nonetheless.

You continued the catfight of trying to get answers for your newest article, keeping the balance of vying for James' attention and showing him you didn't care for him personally, unlike the other journalists you were pushing against. The conference room was full of men and women who wanted to be James or be with him. Aside from the professional questions, there were certainly several invitations to the pub thrown around, and you were sure you saw one woman try and give him her cellphone number. You rolled your eyes again at that, James was nothing to fawn over.

He might be a big shot now, but you'd known him almost all your life. The two of you had gone to school together and had bickered through every interaction since then. James had always wanted to be a football star, and you a journalist. You'd never believed in him and vice versa, both of you taking every opportunity to tease the other or cut each other down. Maybe it was just clashing personalities, two people too ambitious to be friends. The rivalry had lasted past school, and unfortunately, the two of you often crossed paths in your respective careers.

The press conference wrapped up soon after your question, and you ended up lingering in the room trying to finish your notes. James was still over at his podium next to his coach, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and arduously texting on his flip phone. Seeing you hovering by the door he called your last name, sauntering up behind you. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for the encounter.

"Potter." You smiled curtly, moving to leave.

"You don't have to call me 'Mr Potter' during the conferences, you know. James is perfectly fine, everyone else calls me that."

"Just trying to stay professional," You said through gritted teeth, aware his coach and a few others were still around you. It could cost you your job to snap at him.

"Was it professional when I was your first kiss?" He stepped closer and you instinctively stepped back, feeling the plaster wall graze your back through your work blazer.

"It was spin the bottle and we were twelve, it's ancient history. And do you mind? I know you're some kind of god around here but I have a reputation to uphold," You whispered, glancing around anxiously. James laughed at your distress which only annoyed you further. Maybe he could get away with anything, but you had to fight for your place in your field as a female sports journalist, you couldn't afford to take it lightly.

You couldn't help the physical reaction to being trapped between James and the wall though, your breathing shallow and quick, face tilted up slightly to look at him. You felt a bit like prey, caught in the predator's territory and resigned to imminent death.

"Let her go, will you? She's just doing her job," Remus Lupin said, entering the conference room with his nose crinkled from the smell. You couldn't blame him, sweaty players and hungry journalists didn't make any kind of utopia together.

"I wasn't doing anything!" James cried, hands up in surrender, "Come on love, I was just giving you the scoop, right?"

"First of all, if you were giving me 'the scoop' right now I'd certainly be accused of sleeping to the top by all the blokes waiting out there," You gestured to the group of other reporters still lingering in the hall waiting for any scraps of information, "And secondly, I work for the bloody Sunday People, not the BBC. I honestly think they'd rather I just write about your 'dashing good looks' or a drug scandal than your games," You complained, falling back into the ease of conversation now that Remus was there. He'd been at school with the both of you, growing up to be a physiotherapist, but was always much more palatable than James.

Both men laughed at your plight.

"If you ever need a more detailed look at my dashing good looks just ask, sweetheart. I'd be glad to show you, you know, for your articles." You rolled your eyes at James' attempt to be charming, snapping your notebook shut.

"Alright, I think that's my cue to go," You said curtly, smoothing out your work trousers. "Remus, I'll return Dracula next time I see you; I'm almost finished." You remembered you'd had his novel for quite a while, sparing him a smile on the way out.

"You lend her books?" James asked incredulously, hazel eyes curiously following your figure down the hall. Remus just shrugged, patting James on the shoulder and attending to his actual job, checking up on the players after the match.

James was still hung up on the fact when he returned to the apartment he shared with Remus and Sirius, flabbergasted as he hung his coat on the rack.

"Since when are you two close enough to be sharing books?" He cried as he paced through the kitchen, "Have we not all been in agreement that she is stubborn and hard-headed and annoying and has been since school?"

"No," Remus shook his head, "You decided that, and I daresay she feels the same about you. I've always rather liked her."

James was unexpectedly dumbfounded at the realisation that you weren’t the common enemy he thought you were. Even Sirius didn’t seem to dislike you, always stopping for a chat when you were around the stadium and giving you extra comments with a flirty wink.

James didn’t need to think about you for another few weeks; his team hadn’t played one week and you’d been assigned other matches for the others — he read your very amusing pieces on lawn bowls and chess-boxing, partly because he knew you’d hate the assignment.

You were blissfully apart until one Saturday night. You were out with your friends and a few coworkers and James was out with his. He’d started in the local pub while you were at a fancy cocktail restaurant for Lily’s bachelorette party, however, your groups crossed paths in the depths of a nightclub.

Maybe you were getting too old for them, waking up with sore backs and knees after nights of dancing, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t give it a red hot go. And with a few cocktails in your system, nobody could convince you it wasn’t a good idea.

You'd been shaking what your mother gave you for the better part of an hour before it was your turn to get another round, telling the girls you'd be back before stumbling through a sea of sweaty bodies.

Some gross man who was definitely too old for you obstructed your path, grabbing your arms to make you dance with him. Your face crinkled in disgust of its own accord, trying to wiggle yourself free. He continued to encroach on your space, forcing you around despite your persistence. Finally, a man's hands landed on his shoulders, yanking him away and subsequently freeing you from his grasp. The momentum sent you tumbling in your strappy heels, right into something warm and solid. You cringed, having been there before. You turned slowly to meet your unwitting saviour, huffing when you realised it was James.

"Oh, fuck off," You grumbled, mostly to yourself, producing a quick apology to not seem totally impolite.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, revealing himself as the one who'd gotten you away from the creep. You shrugged, fixing your hair.

"Been better," You told him, preparing to leave before seemingly their whole team had surrounded you, all greeting you loudly. You weakly waved at them, feeling dreadfully underdressed and professional. You were used to seeing them in the stadium and press conferences where you were much more modestly dressed. The strapless mini dress wasn't giving you the same layer of protection.

"Right," You said when there didn't seem to be any more productive conversation happening, "I'm off to the bar then."

"Let me buy you a drink, to make up for the freak," One of the players, Frank, said. You smiled but shook your head.

"I'm buying for several, it wouldn't be fair. It's Lily's bachelorette." You directed the last sentence to those who knew her, the football and journalism professions having considerable overlap due to events and the never-ending scandals and interviews. James covered his face in mock-devastation.

"Not Lily! Have I missed my chance forever?" He moaned, earning some shoves from the rest of the group. You and Lily had been friends since uni, and you'd introduced her to the boys at one of the terrible house parties you'd endured over your three years studying. James had developed a thing for her right away (no one knew how much of it was serious and how much was for comedic value) and had been loudly pining for her ever since, despite her long-term relationship with Dirk Cresswell, an economist who worked in the building down the block from your office.

"I think you missed your chance the first time," You retorted with a snort, a little drunk to have any ferocity in your tone. You both made a face at each other, ignoring the laughter of those around you. You dismissed the group and danced away, shaking your arse over to the bar.

A few rounds later and you were not in your best shape. The girls had been absolute menaces, feeding you shots and deceiving colourful cocktails that actually held like seven standards in them, and you were certainly feeling the effects. You excused yourself from the group to find a loo, bile rising in your throat as you pushed past dancers, not even sparing a comment for James as you saw him.

That confused both James and his friends, becoming used to your insistent teasing over the years. He exchanged a look with Sirius, following you through the crowd and to the bathrooms.

He figured something was wrong when you burst into the gender-neutral bathrooms, not bothering to lock the door behind you. James and Sirius silently fought about who was going to follow you in and check on you; James found you insufferable, Sirius had severe emetophobia and would probably throw up himself if he had to be close to you vomiting. James rolled his eyes, it was his responsibility. Sirius clapped him on the back gratefully, leaving him to return to the others. James sighed, reciting some affirmations before he cracked the door open, calling out to you.

When you responded with a disgusting wretch, James slipped inside, gagging a little as he saw you leant over the toilet bowl, bare knees on the grimy tile floor.

"Alright?" He asked for lack of anything better, unsurprised when you replied with another gag.

"I feel ill," You said pathetically, head hung low in the bowl which James knew you would resent tomorrow. He laughed quietly, getting closer to you.

"No shit, idiot," His tone was light as he began to rub your back softly, making sure your hair was away from your mouth. You vomited a few more times, your body reacting in violent hurls as James tried to be both soothing and as far away as possible.

When your stomach was finally empty you slumped against the toilet, cheek pressed against the cool porcelain.

"Woah," James pulled you up to a sitting position, "That cannot be good for your skin. Let's get you home, okay?" You nodded petulantly, letting yourself be led out through the club, James telling Lily he'd make sure you got home (and congratulated her on the upcoming wedding).

"Can we get some gum or something? My throat tastes like vom." James looked down at you from where you were lodged into his side, legs shaky as you wobbled down the street. He sighed and steered you in the direction of a convenience store, picking out strawberry gum for you since it tasted better than mint, your words. Good you thought when he paid for it, the football star can shell out 2 pounds, makes more than you anyhow.

You chewed happily, stumbling down the pavement as James held onto you, keeping you upright.

"You're so muscly," You said, somewhat in a drunken haze.

"Thank you?" James laughed, patting you softly on the forearm he was holding. To be fair, you weren't quite sure if it was a compliment either. Your words were admittedly oddly nice but your tone made it confusing, drunk thoughts not completely translating to sober dynamics.

You meandered for a few oddly peaceful minutes, neither of you starting an argument or picking a fight. It was a nice break from normal, the two of you even sharing some peaceful small talk -- discussing a movie you'd both seen recently.

Of course, nothing good lasts.

"James!" A voice yelled from the other side of the street, a short man with mousy mannerisms. James groaned beside you.

"Peter Pettigrew," He whispered to you, trying to pull you along faster, "We used to be mates but turns out he was just using me to get team secrets out into the papers." You whipped your head around to look at him. Oh! You knew Pettigrew, unsurprising given you both reported on essentially the same topics, but he had a bad name even in your circles. He was closer to a paparazzi than a journalist, going for the cheap stories and ad hominem approaches rather than searching for any meaningful insights. Simply put, in an already sleazy career, Peter Pettigrew was the bottom of the barrel.

"Later, mate. I'm in the middle of something right now." James put his arm around your shoulder, better shielding you as he tried to make a getaway. The telltale flash of a camera reflected off the grey pavement, making both you and James whip your heads around to face Peter, looking hardly ashamed of himself. After a moment of shock, you both covered your faces, stumbling down the street as fast as you could manage. The damage was already done.

Suddenly you didn't feel as drunk, navigating the cobblestone streets with unanticipated nimbleness. James might've had the athlete's advantage but you were on home turf, leading him through local shortcuts and to the front door of your apartment building.

On the journey over you'd attracted a few more photographers all fiending for a scandalous picture of James, a small mob forming as you tried to punch in the door code despite your shaking hands. James was right behind you, front pressed to your back, holding his Adidas windbreaker out in a position to shield your face from the prying eyes.

You slammed the door shut, the nosy questions and camera clicks immediately muffled. James let out a long sigh, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Neither of you spoke for a while, processing what had happened.

"Make yourself at home then." You cringed as you surveyed the state of your flat; clothes flung over chairs and dishes still in the sink. Your only option for living alone was cramming all your stuff into what was essentially a shoebox, so any amount of mess made the place look chaotic.

"Nice place," James said and you immediately rolled your eyes, snatching up a stray bra strewn across an armchair. "No, I mean it! It's cozy. Very you." He gestured up at the colourful, mismatched glassware in a kitchen cabinet and the beaded curtain separating your bedroom. You blushed slightly; you didn't often take men home, your flat staying a girly paradise just for you.

You put on the kettle, comforted by the familiar sounds of water beginning to boil. James sat awkwardly on an armchair near the window, anxiously peeking out from behind the curtain every few minutes. His reactions told you the paparazzi were still loitering outside.

James took his tea gratefully, surprisingly still agreeable despite all the terrible things that had happened in the course of a few hours.

"Do you have a back exit or something? Somewhere I can slip out and get home?" You shook your head with a grimace.

"Only the fire exit, but that still goes out near the front. Otherwise we're surrounded by other buildings."

"You must be exhausted after everything. Head off to bed, I'll wait until the gits outside fuck off then lock the door behind me. We don't have to ever mention this again if you don't want." The orange lamp light made James' eyes look unfairly soft, highlighting the golden flecks amongst the brown. You steeled your nerve and shook your head.

"I'm not that bad of a host," You tried to joke, "Besides, don't you have training tomorrow? You're already up later than I'm sure you intended to be. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined England's star player by making him stay up all night, you take my bed and go to sleep." You were both very carefully trying to keep things light, not wanting to spend any more of the night miserable and fighting.

"Well, I'm not taking your bed, that's just impolite. I'll take the couch, if you're being so generous as to let me stay." He had a cheeky smile on his lips as he said it, both of you dancing around the fact that in any other circumstance James wouldn't have been allowed within fifteen feet of your flat.

"That couch? No way." You pointed at the teensy vintage sofa sitting in front of the boxy television. It had space for maybe two and a half arses to sit on it, maybe horizontally extended legs if you were short-ish, but there was no way the goliath James Potter was getting any decent sleep on it. "You take the bed. I'll survive the couch tonight."

"Don't be stupid, I can't sleep in your bed. If not the couch I'll take the floor."

"Speaking from a purely medical standpoint, I haven't cleaned these floors recently enough for it to be safe to have your face in such close proximity. Take the bed, Potter."

You bickered for a few long minutes, both of you trying to outdo each other's respect as host and guest, respectively. You didn't miss the irony that even when you and James were getting along you were fighting.

"I'm not letting you go without, that's final." You turned away to go fetch a pillow for your night on the couch when James said something you never ever thought you'd hear from him.

"Then sleep with me."

"Excuse me?" You all but shrieked, immediately cringing as you thought about your poor neighbours.

"Look, it's basically morning, we're both shattered and I'm sure your bed is much comfier than whatever alternative you're planning. We can even go full pillow-wall if it'll make you feel better." You stared at him for several moments, lips actually agape. Never in your life did you think James Potter would be asking you to share a bed with him, and never in your life did you think you'd be considering it.

"Fine."

Twenty minutes later and you were both ready for bed. You'd found James an old pair of an ex-boyfriend's long abandoned pyjamas, stuffed in a bottom drawer. They were slightly too small to accommodate all his muscles, the t-shirt sitting a few inches above the pants' waistband, giving him a very '90s crop top and exposing his happy trail.

You were almost definitely more embarrassed than James. You were in a similarly aged pair of pyjamas, a cartoon of Spongebob over your chest. You couldn't tell if you'd prefer to be in the lame pair that you were wearing or a cute pair -- no, it would probably look like you were trying too hard. Which you weren't. You didn't care about looking cute in front of James Potter, why would you?

He was already in bed when you'd returned from your skincare routine, face fresh and moisturised, and though you knew he was going to be there, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of James Potter in your bed. Tucked up to the chin under your frilly floral grandma sheets, he looked the picture of cozy.

"Don't bloody touch me, I mean it. I want to feel alone in my own bed," You snapped, sliding under the covers, pulling the doona similarly high up to your chin. You turned over to the centre of the bed to find James already on his side looking at you. You let it be for a moment, surprisingly enjoying the sleepover vibes you'd created.

"Okay this is weird now, the pillow's going up." You slammed a long decorative cushion in between the both of you, secretly smiling at the sleepy giggle James let out.

The first time you awoke it was hazy, still early in the morning with golden sunbeams streaming through your curtains. Warmth enveloped you, keeping you cozy despite the winter morning outside. You shifted to burrow deeper into your blankets when a groan came from behind you, startling you more awake as you recognised the feeling of muscular arms wrapped around your middle. It suddenly all came back to you, James walking you home, the paparazzi, you making an absolute fool of yourself. However, James was a portable heat source and extremely comfortable so you let yourself ignore everything that had led up to it, allowing yourself another few hours of blissful sleep.

The second time you woke up James was gone. That wasn't surprising given he definitely had early morning training, but you would reluctantly admit that it was a little lonelier in your bed than it usually was.

You didn't leave the house for the rest of the day, finally cleaning your apartment after much too long. Turns out all you needed was to be embarrassed in front of a guest to get you motivated.

Monday morning you weren't hungover anymore, but you were mourning the weekend that had passed much too quickly. Still, things were running smoothly enough; you didn't miss the tube and had snagged a seat, and your makeup was looking absolutely grand. You were absolutely thriving.

That was, until you crossed the threshold of the Sunday People offices and the jerks from the politics columns started bothering you, as if a Monday morning wasn't punishment enough.

"Meet anyone nice over the weekend, sweetheart?" One crowed from his desk chair, looking positively dickhead-ish in his too-small button-up.

"Or still on the clock maybe? We know you're always hunting for a good story." The combination of both remarks confused you, but you strutted past them with a quick glare in their general direction, your clicking heels producing enough attitude that you didn't need to say anything.

As you approached your own desk area, you had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling that everyone was looking at you. You couldn't think of why, but subtly wiped the edge of your lips in case it was foolishly smudged lipstick.

You even swore you heard one of the royal writers -- an awful woman maybe twenty years older than you -- say something about your 'promiscuity' and 'unprofessionalism'. You didn't know where it was coming from. You weren't friends by any means but you usually just stayed out of each other's way, you didn't throw around insults at your workplace. You glanced down at your outfit but nothing seemed especially revealing, the same button-up and pencil skirt you always wore if you weren't doing field work.

You were really starting to wonder why everyone was looking at you when even Lily was sending you pitiful glances. You had just made up your mind to say something about it when your boss came striding towards you, anger emanating in a way which only middle-aged men can do.

"What is this?" He slammed a Daily Mail tabloid down on your desk. The office was dead silent. You looked down at it, wholly confused as to what it could be -- your last article was approved without any troubles.

THE 'INSIDE' SCOOP? POTTER GETS COZY WITH REPORTER ON NIGHT OUT

And there, right under the brazen headline, was the stupid picture that Peter Pettigrew took. The two of you out on the street, you tucked into James' side with his arm around you. Your face wasn't totally visible, but anyone who already knew you would recognise the figure and fashion.

You could feel your face drop as you read the article, a barrage of slut-shamey insults and reports of how intimate you and James were out on the streets of London -- all entirely false, of course. When you'd finished reading the piece the whole office was staring at you, waiting to see how you'd react.

"It's a lie," You said quietly, trying to stop your hands from shaking as they rested on your lap. There was a pregnant pause as your boss processed what you were saying, clearly confused. None of your coworkers dared to speak.

"Bullshit," He replied, face blooming red as he decided you weren't being truthful. "That's you and that's James, there's no denying that. The whole bloody country will be able to see you two getting cozy on the street. How do you reckon this reflects on me, having your name and workplace published alongside your completely unprofessional affair?"

"I understand that it looks bad, but it's not what you think at all. J- uh, Potter was just helping me get home after a chance encounter because I wasn't feeling well, then he hid at my place because of all the paparazzi. Nothing happened." It was a weak explanation, even you could tell, even though it was completely true.

The arseholes over in Politics were already sniggering to themselves and you wished you could have ripped them a new one. Instead, you were cowering underneath your brutish boss.

"It's your word against Pettigrew's, and only one of you's been printed. You've been publicly humiliated and we're getting bad press for it."

Your boss had left you with the threatening promise that the issue would be brought up with your superiors and the whispered opinions of every single person you worked with. You choked out an excuse to get out of the office, taking the lift up to the rooftop to cry.

You had peace for a few minutes, getting the most embarrassing of the sobs out alone.

"Did you actually sleep with him?" If it was anyone else you probably would have snapped, yelling at them for being so insensitive. Marlene said it with such earnest curiosity and sympathy that you turned to face her instead. You were met with her and Lily, your very best friends who you were feeling especially lucky to work with at that moment.

"No!" You told them the full story, about getting sick at the club, James just being polite and walking you home, and Peter Pettigrew's terrible betrayal. Both women listened attentively, taking it all in.

"I thought you hated Potter," Lily said finally, "How'd it get that far in the first place? Usually you'd have ditched him in the first five minutes of being in his presence."

"I don't hate him." You studied your hands intently, observing the peeling red nail polish you should have reapplied yesterday. "I think he's annoying and obnoxious and I've always hated that he's never believed I could be a serious writer, but I don't hate him. He has his moments. Besides, why would I waste energy on hating Potter when I could hate Pettigrew with all my heart?"

"What a snake," Marlene spat, lighting a cigarette as she got comfy next to you. You and Lily both nodded. Peter was not only now a backstabber, but he'd been becoming increasingly insufferable over the years you'd all been writing.

He started out quite nice and was in your periphery of friends in the same way Remus and even James were, but as he'd gotten the job at his shitty tabloid magazine he'd become downright intolerable, always twisting what you'd said both in official articles and when gossiping with other friends. You had all had enough a few years ago and stopped inviting him places. Clearly, he'd held onto the grudge.

At his own work, James was facing the same rumours, though not nearly to the same peril. As he rocked up to his home pitch for the morning training session he was received with catcalls and high fives which made him nervous. No one was ever that happy to be working out on a Monday morning.

"Thought you hated her, mate."

"Maybe all she needed was a good shag to get the stick out of her arse."

"Woah! Can we take it back a few steps and not talk about women that way?" James sent a look over to one of his teammates.

"Sorry bud," He held his hands up in surrender, "Thought you wouldn't mind since you're always moaning about her." James' eyebrows knit together as he tried to piece together what the men were talking about, finally giving up and asking for a plain explanation.

He was met with a copy of Peter's article, outlining the flirty touches and 'electric chemistry' the two of you shared. Scanning it quickly James felt his face screwing up in disgust. Never mind that it obviously wasn't true, what a disgusting violation of privacy. He'd only recently launched into the spotlight, working his way up into the Premier League and then team captain in the last few years. He still didn't know how to handle the fame, especially invasive press like this.

His first priority was setting the ruth straight for his team, explaining exactly what happened and outlining strict instructions not to bring it up the next time they saw you.

"This is going to be a lot worse for her than me," He said, ending the conversation there.

He was correct. Rumours only spiralled from Peter's article. You'd stupidly created Google Alerts for your name; as a journalist, it made sense to keep track of where your writing was being shared. One day of this nonsense and you had all alerts silenced, not wanting to ever visit the internet ever again.

Apparently, this alleged affair was the most interesting thing young British people had ever experienced. The football star and the sports journalist. As you packed up to leave at the end of the day you were feeling sick to your stomach, already overwhelmed by the attention you never wanted on you.

Your face blanched as you approached the dizzying glass windows, a mass of reporters swarming the door. You didn't have to think hard to know they were waiting for you. You retreated to the restroom where they couldn't see you to rearrange your exit appearance. Pulling your coat tight against you and scarf up to cover the bottom half of your face, you plugged your iPod nano in to appear busy (and touched up your eye makeup for the inevitable photos that would make it back into the news cycle).

Physically and emotionally prepared you braved the crowd again, moving through with a polite but firm shove, making yourself a path down to the tube. You only snapped at one particularly rude paparazzi, giving him an instruction of where to 'stick it' as you hopped down the stairs to your station.

You ate a haphazard dinner by your computer, obsessively clicking through the various articles (and now personal blog posts) that had mentioned you. Every link made you feel worse about yourself.

The articles themselves were bad, most of them degrading you and congratulating James. Some had even produced old school photos of the both of you, even a few from your uni days when James was just starting out professionally and you were attending similar parties.

The articles were one thing, at least they usually had to be somewhat impartial. The blog posts by James' fangirls were downright cruel, calling you a slag based on a singular photograph and dragging your name through the mud.

You were drawn from your doom-scrolling by your cellphone ringing, Britney ringtone at least drawing a smile from you.

"Hello?"

"Get off the internet," Sirius Black said from the other end of the line.

"How'd you know?" You exited the webpage dutifully, already feeling the weight of the world's ugly words lifting from your shoulders.

"I figured. First time being written about isn't easy."

"It's certainly making me grateful I've never been so bitchy in my articles," You produced a hollow laugh, "I don't know how people can say these things about someone they've never met."

"That's why we like you," He said, "Mostly, at least. You stick to the sport and not our personal lives."

"Don't inflate my ego, Black, it's just because I don't like you guys," You joked, your mood already blooming back to somewhat more chipper.

"That's what I've been telling him!" You heard Remus call from further away, probably the other side of their living room. Sirius made an offended noise.

"Is Potter there?" You changed the topic, swirling your mouse around the window aimlessly, too afraid to check your work or personal notifications.

"He's out right now, calling someone official -- a publicist or lawyer friend. He's tearing his hair out about this, he feels awful for you." Both men explained, bickering about who exactly he was talking to.

"Yeah, I'm noticing only one of us is getting called a slut." You rolled your eyes even though they couldn't see you, balancing your cell between your shoulder and ear as you made a cup of tea. Sirius' barking laughter crackled through the speaker.

"Don't worry about it, love, everyone knows The Daily Mail is full of shite. Besides, I got that all the time."

"Yeah, in school! Not when you have a grown-up job to save face at!" Sirius conceded, apologising lightly. You shrugged him off; he was not the target of your anger at all.

"James'll be back soon, do you want to stay on the phone?" Remus asked and you answered without hesitation.

"No. I don't want to talk to him right now. We'll just find something to fight about, it's not worth it."

"He wants to make things better," Sirius offered, "He feels terrible."

"Maybe when I'm not so angry at the world." You left them with the offered compromise, hanging up to pity yourself for a few more hours before bed.

You didn't end up being fired over the incident, your bosses couldn't find a good reason to cite, but everyone in the office knew you were on thin ice. Most weren't afraid to highlight that fact. You were really starting to hate the Politics guys.

You just tried to keep your head down, diving into your articles and trying to keep in the higher-ups good graces. Amidst the drama though you'd been taken off all football coverage for the time being, banished to the irrelevant 'sports' you never even knew existed.

The week had taken you out of London to cover bizarre rural events like cheese rolling and bog snorkelling; not uninteresting but a big change of pace to the Premier League drama you were used to.

It did take your mind off of James and the media shitstorm for a day or two though. Being in a small town was much preferable to London, at least for the moment. The paparazzi weren't going to make the drive to find you for a single day when there were plenty more interesting figures to find in the city.

Plus, you were meeting the most interesting people. Though it was no Premier League final, everyone around was so wholly invested and excited by the competition that you couldn't help feeling the same, despite your initial hesitation.

Throughout the day it was just you, your notepad, your camera and the few thousand people who came to participate and observe. You'd already met and interviewed the woman who made the cheese, the previous year's winner and you were waiting impatiently to see who'd prevail now.

The paper was paying for you to stay overnight so you could chronicle the post-event celebrations, and you'd never been so glad to be working late. The key players in the day, organisers and competitors had all convened in the town's old pub, basically heaving under the weight of you all.

You held up your beer with the others despite hating the taste, grateful to be included in their toast to the day. You laughed as you tried to down it quickly, wanting the taste out of your mouth as soon as possible without refusing such a kind gift. Holding the pint up in the air victoriously you accepted the cheers of those around you, including the lovely middle-aged lady who made the ceremonial cheese and the man only a year or two older than you who'd won earlier.

"Finally letting your hair down!" He laughed and you smiled back, trying to remember his name. A glance down at your notepad said Drew. "Can I get you another?" You hoped he didn't notice your eyes widen, not expecting attention like that, not when you were allegedly working no less. You opened your mouth to agree when someone else answered for you.

"She doesn't like beer, thinks it tastes like piss." You whipped your neck around at the familiar voice, mouth dropping open at the sight of James Potter.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, jovial politeness abandoned.

"You didn't remember that my family comes to watch every year?"

"Respectfully, why the fuck would I remember something like that?" You snapped, moving to leave and follow the much nicer Drew to the bar. James grabbed your hand lightly, stopping you from leaving.

"Wait, can we talk please?" You just looked at him for a long time, considering how much patience you had after a full day of work, then shrugged half-heartedly.

He led you outside and away from the crowd, both of you letting out a huff as you noticed the change in temperature.

"I liked your story on the bog snorkelling -- interesting stuff," James broke the awkward silence and you rolled your eyes aggressively.

"As if you read my pieces."

"I do!" He insisted, silently refusing the cigarette you offered. "I've read all your pieces, honest."

"But... huh? You're the one who always said I'd be a shit writer, I've spent years trying to get the negative internal James out of my head! You absolute dickhead!" You shoved his chest, turning back towards the door to return inside.

"Are you thick? I only said that because I fancied you!"

James' words rang heavy in the air, the street otherwise silent. You stared straight ahead of you for a moment, his words settling on top of you as you focused on the orange street lamp.

This whole time, this whole time, you'd been fighting the image you believed James had of you, striving to be better, never being satisfied, for nothing. This whole time you and James had been bickering and trading insults for nothing? And all his flirting... James' annoying charm and ironic compliments and innuendo-filled teasing were all genuine, after all this time? Suddenly your whole world had turned on its axis.

"What do you mean you said it because you fancied me? That is not normal!" You whirled around, accusatory finger pointed his way.

"I don't know! I thought I was supposed to! It wasn't cool to be a sap!" James argued back, running a hand through his already tousled curls.

"Jesus Christ," You muttered, "So what, you thought all my arguing back was just flirting?" James' silence told you all you needed to know.

"Come on, don't act like you didn't like it a little bit! As I recall you were always up for the fight, weren't you? You never avoided me or ignored me. Let's face it, you enjoyed it as much as I did." He stepped closer to you, breath visible in the cool air.

"I didn't enjoy it, what the hell are you talking about? Why would I enjoy trading schoolyard insults with some arrogant, idiotic football player who discredited the one thing I wanted most in my life?" Suddenly you were inches apart, heat emanating from both of you as you fought.

"Like you never said I was stupid for wanting to be a footballer? Face it, love, you're just as bad as me."

And suddenly, despite all your better judgement and every bit of sense in your head, you were kissing him. You didn't know exactly how it had happened, and if anyone were to ever ask you you would absolutely pin the blame on James but there you were, out in the middle of the street without a care in the world.

Every one of your senses was on fire, the smell of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his soft curls under your fingers. Everything about James felt like he was made for you, like all the years of you revolving around each other, playing off the other's insult was just a lead-up, preparation for the very moment you kissed for the first time.

James' arms around you were warm, strong from years of working out and protective like a weighted blanket. One hand wrapped around your midsection and the other firmly on your neck you felt wholly surrounded by him, isolated in your own bubble of James.

It was probably a bad idea, but you weren't overly concerned with addressing that fact in any rush. It didn't come as you tilted your head to bring him even closer, it didn't come as you said hurried goodbyes in the pub and collected your coat, it didn't even come as you closed the door to your hotel room, undoing the buttons to James' shirt like they had a personal vendetta against you.

The admittance only came as you lay entangled with him, faces millimetres apart.

"Was that a bad idea?" You asked, genuine self-consciousness mixing with pragmatic anxiety.

"I mean, I quite enjoyed myself, love. Did you not?" James' cheeky smile made you snort out a giggle but you sobered up quickly, hitting him lightly on his toned chest.

"Don't turn this into a joke!" You ordered, "Have we just fucked everything up?" James just looked at you for a minute, taking in the sincerity in your voice and the depth of your eyes.

"Of course we haven't," He assured you. "Do you like me?"

"But--"

"Ah! Do you like me?" He reiterated and you paused, nodding shyly. "See? You like me and I like you. We'll figure everything else out. Start slow; baby steps."

"Baby steps," You agreed, sharing his smile. It really only hit you how much you actually liked James once you'd said it, finally noticing how he might've been looking at you the whole time.

You sent James off early in the morning, both of you needing to make it back to London quickly. You had to get your article written up and James had training. Thankfully there was no awkwardness in your goodbye; James had to rush to meet his parents to drive back by car and you had a train to catch. The only moment of hesitance came as you said goodbye, waving at each other with a giggle as James hopped down the steps. He hesitated halfway, turning to look at you with the glint of mischief in his eye that you'd become very well acquainted with.

In a moment he was at the top of the steps again, swooping in to steal another kiss. You rolled your eyes to hide an embarrassing smile, pushing him back in the direction he came.

"Haven't you got somewhere to be?" You asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. James mimed twisting a knife in his chest but continued down the stairs nonetheless, giving you one last smile before he turned a corner and disappeared from your sight. You sighed like a schoolgirl then laughed at yourself, packing the last of your things to get home.

As you sat on the train, green landscapes passed you through the window and you felt your cell phone buzz from the minuscule pocket of your work trousers.

thinking of u :P <3

You grinned, looking out at the scenery so the people around you wouldn't be able to figure out your embarrassing secret. You felt like a teenage girl again, blushing over a text from the guy you had a crush on.

Everything turned to shit in a matter of hours after returning to London.

First, James' publicist made his statement. It wasn't necessarily terrible, but it really had no regard for you. No statement declaring you both on good terms, no coming to your defence or asking for the press to respect you. James looked like the hero saving a stupid drunk girl, and you still looked desperate for the most popular footballer in the country. You were decently sure it wasn't James' fault, but it did significantly dampen your lovesick giddiness.

The office was half-empty when you arrived, kitten heels clicking against the ground. You said a quick hello to Lily, still dutifully typing away at her computer. You followed her lead, exporting your notes to your desktop computer, formatting the piece and going through edits to have it ready for the next paper.

The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks through the sky when the door to your boss' office slammed open, echoing above the cubicles.

"You kissed him?" He yelled and you paled, knowing exactly what he was talking about but not how he knew. That problem was solved when he slammed the magazine down in front of you, no doubt just delivered by the skittery young receptionist running back to the elevator.

FACT OR FICTION? POTTER AND REPORTER CAUGHT SNOGGING AMIDST PUBLIC DENIAL

Fuck. That could not be worse.

The whole piece was essentially dragging your name through the absolute mud now that they had the confirmation there was something going on between you and James. The whole world thought you were sleeping to the top, or for the best scoop, and everyone hated you for it.

You looked up at your boss, words dying on your tongue.

"Please tell me that's not you," He said, grasping at the thinning hair on his head. You couldn't deny it.

"I..." You trailed off, searching for anything you could say to make it better. "I didn't mean to. And I'm being completely honest when I say that the first article was all bullshit. Things have... happened since then." You were already on the verge of tears. Even on an optimistic day, you couldn't have denied that this was utterly shit.

"Jesus." Your boss muttered, beginning to pace. "Look, I like you, you know? You do good work and you're never outta line, but I reckon the higher-ups are gonna be done with you. They wanted you out over the first article but I convinced them it was all speculation. This is proof and makes us all look bad that you're sleeping with someone you interview every other bloody week. Look, I'll do what I can in damage control, but I'd be bringing your stuff home tonight. I'm sorry."

How could he have just left you with that absolute bombshell? Effectively firing you, just like that? The tears had made their way up to your waterline, sitting there mocking you as you refused to let them fall. You submitted your piece and shut off your laptop, angrily stuffing your sparse personal decorations into your shoulder bag to get the fuck out of the building as fast as possible.

The paparazzi were waiting again, of course, like that was what you really needed. You pushed past them, making sure to land an extra hard stomp on Peter's foot, lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile as you heard him curse.

You sat on the tube, staring intently at your feet and trying desperately to think of anything but your current situation. You'd already been approached by someone who'd coughed out "Skank," which really hadn't done anything for your sour mood. All you wanted was to crawl into your bed and never emerge.

You wandered down the street between the metro station and your flat, hands shoved deep in your coat pockets.

"Hey!" Someone called and you glanced over on instinct, senses drawn by the interruption of an otherwise quiet evening. "You're the girl who kissed James Potter, yeah?" It was a girl still in her school uniform, probably sixteen or seventeen. You thought through your options quickly and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wicked. How was it?" She asked, chewing on pink gum. There was an aura about her that you liked, not judgemental like everyone else you'd met. If you were still in school you thought you might've been friends with her.

"Pretty good, I'd do it again." A cheeky almost-joke between the two of you, ironic given the shit that it had caused for you.

"We were talking about it at school. Pretty shit how they've treated you. Like they all wouldn't jump at a chance to get close to 'im." You liked the way that she didn't get any closer. Just the two of you standing face to face, divided by the empty road.

"Exactly what I've been saying," You agreed, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"If it was the other way around, if you were the famous one, James would be getting congratulated for getting with you, not ridiculed by the mindless gossip columns. All my friends think it's utter bullshit, stopped buyin' 'em and everything." You could have kissed her if that wasn't tremendously creepy. In five minutes, this schoolgirl had vindicated everything you'd been saying for the past week in a way no one else had.

"Thank you," You said, with more sincerity than you probably should have had for a complete stranger. The girl just shrugged with a smile, nodding before continuing down the street, the sound of her leather school shoes growing quieter with every step.

You felt it in your whole body every time you thought of the interaction for the next few hours, warmth spreading through your chest as you were reminded there were still good people around.

Your other reminder of that fact came with the sound of your buzzer, the laughing of Lily and Marlene echoing off the stone of your building. As you let them in curiously they presented armfuls of takeout, the smell of Chinese food immediately floating through your flat.

Lily took the responsibility of setting out the food while Marlene took control of your little television, flipping between channels until she found a suitable romcom starting.

You didn't speak about what had happened, no one mentioned James Potter or the bloody Sunday People. Yet, there was an air of tenderness that let you know the girls knew exactly what was happening and how you were feeling about it.

Still, there was something bothering you. You couldn't give it a name immediately, only a tugging in your stomach while the girls were entertaining you, but persistent nonetheless.

It wasn't until you were all crammed into your bed, the other two peacefully asleep, that you could identify the sensation. It was an overwhelming desire, a need to write that you hadn't felt in ages. It was the same feeling that had pushed you to be a journalist in the first place, an inspiration you typically only felt watching a magical soccer final.

You crept out of your bedroom, switching on your computer at the kitchen table, squinting at the aggressive blue light. And when a blank Word document appeared before you, you started writing. Obsessively, feverishly, words poured out of you at a rate that hadn't happened since you'd started at Sunday People.

The words of the school girl fresh in your mind, you started an article vastly different from your usual kind. Instead of strategies and highlights you dissected your own experience of the past week, saying everything you hadn't let yourself unload to the paparazzi outside your office (though with fewer curse words than they would have received). It could have been minutes or hours that you were writing and you wouldn't have noticed, eyes glued on the screen in front of you.

You didn't realise you'd fallen asleep until Lily woke you gently with a hand on your shoulder, offering a steaming mug of tea. It was light outside, the world already up and awake. You were glad it was a weekend as the girls didn't need to rush off to work, cooking a simple breakfast for you all to share.

"What've you written?" Marlene asked, the second part of her sentence unnecessary: since you don't have a job to write for. You shrugged, taking a bite of some eggs.

"Just something I had to get off my chest. Might see if I can sell it to someone to tide me over 'til I figure out what I'm doing with my life."

"Can we read?" You made a 'go ahead' gesture, the computer already open to the screen.

A WOMAN'S UNWILLING WEEK IN THE PUBLIC EYE:

How a woman always loses.

You sat in mild discomfort as Lily and Marlene read your piece in silence, anxiously awaiting their reactions. They weren't what you were expecting.

When they turned back to face you, Lily had tears in her eyes, red tones brought out in her skin. Even Marlene looked uncharacteristically moved, not at all the reaction you were expecting. Firstly, it was completely unedited so you suspected it was somewhat of a mess from your midnight haze. Secondly, it was more of a vent than anything, getting your hatred for invasive paparazzi off your chest. You thought you'd all laugh about it then move on with your days.

"Lils, what's wrong?" You didn't mean to laugh, it was more out of surprise than anything else.

"It's just, it's so raw and real. It's so unfair," She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater.

"Jesus, you don't have to cry," You said lightly, "I'm fine! I hated that bloody place anyway."

"That's not the point," Marlene pointed out, "And Lily's right, this is really confronting stuff. It's great."

"Thanks," You mumbled, studying a lamp for something to do.

"Can we talk about James?" Your head snapped back to look at her.

"What about him?"

"Clearly there's been some... developments in your relationship, which we don't have to talk about--"

"Yet," Marlene interrupted.

"The point is that it looks like there's feelings involved now. What are you doing about them? Because if you publish that, it's putting everything out there, and even I can't tell how you feel about James right now," Lily finished.

"I don't want to talk to him," You said quickly, "I know it's not his fault but I can't think about him without getting mad. It's like I wrote; he ends up fine while I lose my job over one kiss."

"Understandable," Marlene nodded, "But if I know James at all, he'll be going crazy every minute that you ignore him."

You had much to consider when the girls left. The state of your career, your feelings for James, everything felt too big and overwhelming to make any decisions about. So, you took a nap.

The rest of your weekend was spent sending your then-edited article to as many newspapers and blogs as you could and hiding out in your flat, dodging James' calls.

Unfortunately, you liked him. You'd figured out that much. More unfortunately, he hadn't done anything to help you out in all this mess, benefiting from the press in a way that only England's favourite footballer could.

On Monday morning your piece was published. Not the biggest or most reputable newspaper, if your name hadn't still been trending it probably would have gone largely noticed. Instead, it blew up.

It had mixed reviews, of course, a tell-all so blatantly feminist would always attract its haters, but you were floored by the support it was receiving. Women were validating your experiences in a way you hadn't expected even a few days ago. It made you not so scared to leave the house anymore.

On Tuesday morning, Remus called you. You had the thought that it might have been James calling to grovel on Remus' phone, but you thought it was a smart enough idea you'd indulge anyway. If it was Sirius you wouldn't have picked up.

Instead, it was actually Remus.

"Come to the media room this afternoon," He said, evidently not wasting time with pleasantries.

"What?" You asked, caught off-guard.

"Just do it. Two o'clock."

"Remus, you know I don't have a job anymore, right?"

"Come off it, you know anyone on the team would let you in. You've got quite a name for yourself," He chanced a joke and you rolled your eyes.

"What, whore?" You retorted, only a little worried it would be true.

"I'm hanging up," Was all he said before the line went dead. You huffed, snapping your phone closed with all the attitude of a spoiled private schoolgirl.

Yet, at two o'clock you were standing in front of the media room at James' team's stadium, questioning all of your life choices.

The room seemingly went silent when you entered, dozens of pairs of eyes staring you down as you nervously stuck to the wall. You felt the derogatory, leering stares from all the sleazy men who'd been accusing you of sleeping with players since you first started in the field. It made you want to drop dead.

James made his way to the lectern up the front of the room with a cough, quieting down the chaos.

"Afternoon, everyone. I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here, I've got some things I'd like to address.

"As you all well know, I've been a frequent face in the papers lately, and not for my brilliant playing as it usually is. I recently got followed down a street after a night out looking after an old friend who happened to be a colleague of yours. Now I know that my godly good looks lead you to believe that I don't feel the same as all of you, but I do. And I'd like you all to consider how you'd feel if a man with a camera followed you all the way home after you'd been out for a night with your friends and a few cheeky drinks. It's pretty invasive if you can't imagine.

"Now, all this press hasn't really affected me. However, my dear friend has been subject to misogynistic articles, slut-shaming and harassment all because we were seen out together and a few hateful words from someone I used to consider a mate." You had no idea where this was going, but you were absolutely fascinated. James was more well-spoken, more mature and solemn than you'd ever seen him, though he still had his audience in the palm of his hand with his casual jokes. It was a masterclass in public speaking.

"If you haven't read any of my friend's pieces I would highly recommend them; she's got a brilliant voice and I personally read everything she publishes. However, I'm not here to talk about her work; I'd actually like to talk about her if you all don't mind."

What the hell was happening?

"In the midst of all these articles over the last week, I know you've all seen various pictures of us, including from secondary school. A few come to my mind, our graduation picture is a highlight, but I'd really like to talk about this one." James brandished a printed-out photo you recognised instantly.

"This photo was taken when we were twelve or thirteen years old at someone's party. That night, as you tend to do when you're young and bored, we played spin the bottle and ended up being each other's first kiss. I'm sure you're all wondering why I'm telling this story now, and it's because ever since that night as I have recently realised, almost a decade later, I have been embarrassingly, stupidly in love with her."

Your life wasn't real, it absolutely could not be.

"And though I've done some incredibly dumb things over the years, somehow she's managed to like me back -- at least a little. So I'm setting the record straight right now, she is not 'sleeping to the top' or trying to get a secret scoop out of me because I'm the one who's been chasing after her for twelve years.

"I know I've been rambling on for far too long so I'll wrap it up here, but I just wanted to end this little conference with a warning that if I see any more disgusting, hateful articles about her, you won't be getting another comment from me again. So nice to see you all!"

The room started to trickle out but you were stuck to your spot against the wall, frozen in absolute shock. You hardly even noticed the dirty looks you got from some of the people you'd been working alongside for years.

You spotted James in another corner, drinking out of a plastic water bottle and messing with his hair. A nervous tell.

The room was almost completely empty when you approached him, heels muffled by the carpeted floor.

"Hey stranger," You said softly, feeling way out of your depth. He turned in an instant, smile lighting up his face then melting away as it was replaced with an insecure frown.

"Was that okay? I didn't want to embarrass you but I wanted to step up and do something and protect you and--"

"Have you really loved me since we were twelve?" You cut him off bluntly.

"Every day since, as I've figured out," He agreed with a slight nod, glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

"What about all the flirting with Lily? The other girls over the years?"

"So obviously fake. Distractions. It's never been anyone but you, love."

You could only stare at him for a moment, your whole world shifting beneath your feet. James' face became increasingly worried, brow furrowing more the longer you remained unresponsive.

"If you don't feel the same that's totally alright, I still stand by what I did and I don't want you being harassed for--"

You'd always thought that cutting someone off with a kiss was ridiculously cheesy, reserved for shitty Hallmark movies with grown-up child actors who never got their big break. Turns out though, when you realise that your girlish crush on the star footballer has actually been a complicated love of twelve years, you don't really want to waste any more time.

When you woke up on Wednesday morning with James next to you, body heat keeping you cozy, you were convinced you had to be dreaming. When you eventually got up to check your emails and start your day the hypothesis was only solidified by the impossible email waiting in your inbox.

The fucking BBC wanted to hire you as a football commentator and sports writer. Your dream job at your dream company. If you let out an embarrassing squeal then that was none of your business.

You were still convinced you were hallucinating the whole thing until James came in with his biggest smile and that look in his eyes that told you he probably had a hand in getting your name on the BBC desks.

Even a few weeks ago you would have been mad at him, assuming it was mocking or he had ulterior motives. But it wasn't a few weeks ago anymore, and James Potter's whole, endless heart belonged to you. You weren't letting that go anytime soon.

[clare-875]

I Don't Want to Move On (Sanji x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Sanji x Female Reader Summary: When Sanji leaves you to marry Pudding, he shuts you out, and you don't know how to forgive him when he returns. Warnings: SPOILERS for Wholecake Island Arc, Angst to Fluff A/N: (h/c) = your hair colour [One Piece Masterlist] _____

You stop and look up, the quiet of the space between you and him bringing forth an awkwardness you were not used to. You were on the Sunny, in the doorway of the kitchen and your boyfriend was facing you with deep remorse reflecting his eyes. Or was he your ex now? You didn't know; you didn't even want to think anymore.

He had left you for her. He had hurt you. And no matter if his reasoning was credible, in the end, he had shut you out and left you to pick up the pieces. You know now that Sanji's family - if he could even call them family - were nothing of the affectionate and caring sort. No, they were emotionless and unkind, arrogant and vain; nothing like the man you loved.

You know that this whole scenario probably brought more agony to Sanji than it did to anybody else. But it didn't change the fact that you didn't know how to face him anymore, or how to talk to him. The words he spoke to you when you had finally caught up to him were raging in the back of your mind. Words that though perhaps false in that moment, still brought pain to ever hear from his lips.

"It was all an act... I could never love a low-life like you."

Was it really? Was it really all an act?

Then what were the nights spent buried in his arms, warm and safe and adored? What were the days spent laughing in the kitchen, the generous caresses and murmured words of devotion? What were the quiet moments spent together, where you thought you needed nothing more than him and his love? What were all the promises and bold whispers?

How many times have you heard him say "I love you" and how many times have you returned the sentiment? Hundreds and thousands of kisses were exchanged and a million times your hands held his. So many times, he pledged his loyalty, looked only to you, caressed only you. How many times had you seen that spark of joy and light reach his eyes, because they reflected the tenderness in yours?

Was that all an act too?

Now you found yourself avoiding him, and his faint calls of your name. You and your crew may have escaped Big Mom, and your friends may have found forgiveness for Sanji's actions. But you didn't know if you could do the same so easily. How could you when his words were spat like fire to your heart? How could you when he left you to marry another woman?

How could you when he shut you out so easily?

"Lov-" Sanji freezes, cold sweat on his face as he looks at you. He had never seen you look to him so devoid of the emotions he was so used to seeing. "[y/n]..." his words are a murmur, hesitant and ashamed. You fight the tears that want to travel down your face at the sight of him. He seemed lost, even when he had retaken his solace back on the Sunny and Luffy's crew. He looked pale and worried and regretful. But was that all an act too?

"Please, can we talk?"

Your heart tugs low at his words.

"I- I don't know, Sanji." His eyes spark just for a moment at the sound of your voice directed at him, after days on the sea without even an utterance. "You hurt me, you left me, I-" You swallow harshly as you watch the way his brows furrow in what seems like genuine pain. "I don't know how to move on from that."

You turn away swiftly, trying to get out of the doorway and out of his presence but Sanji is quick to his senses. He reacts desperately, holding your arm in his hand, causing your movements to halt. You look up at him, the tears now rolling down your face mirroring the ones brimming in his eyes.

"Please love, I don't want to move on from you..."

.....

When you arrived at Zou along with Luffy's group after the exhausting events at Dressora, you never thought you would find your boyfriend missing. Never did you dream.

And yet that was your reality.

Nami had rushed to you alongside Chopper, her bright facade faltering once she saw you and her Captain. She had flung herself into Luffy's arms, but her tearful eyes looked only to you.

"I'm sorry...Sanji's..."

Her words and actions already caused the rhythm of your heart to stutter but when she showed you the letter you felt it slip from your chest.

'I've gotta go see a woman. I'll be back.'

The words on the blank sheet of paper were plain and simple. He would be back. But who was this woman, and why was she of such importance he leaves without a trace or word to you?

It is Luffy who breaks the silence.

"Does, 'gotta go see a woman' mean... he's gonna get married?"

Your heart tugs fiercer at your Captain's words, and Nami is quick to strike his head in vexation. "Luffy!" She scolds, before offering a hand to your shoulder in comfort. "That's not necessarily the case..." You look up, and Nami avoids your gaze in regret, you know that there is something else she wants to say. "... but it seemed like he was determined."

"But he's with [y/n]! That's not allowed!"

Nami chastises Luffy again for his insensitivity but you quickly cut her off. "Nami," she looks at you in surprise at the calmness of your voice. "It's fine. He said he'll be back, didn't he?" She nods hesitantly at your words as your crew looks at you in concern.

"Then, he'll be back."

Your friends all stare, unsure of what to say, but as Brook speaks up, you feel your hopes wither slightly. "But, [y/n]-san, the bride is the Emperor's daughter. Of course, Sanji refused the marriage immediately. But that's what troubles me." The apprehension inside of you churns more and more. "It won't be easy to decline such an invitation. What do you think Sanji would do in a situation where he cannot escape the marriage?"

You think of your boyfriend. He was kind, generous and caring. But you had seen instances of him with traces of sadness in his gaze, only for him to brush you off when you asked if something was wrong. He never really knew how to accept the love that you so willingly offered him, and only time made him better at it. But this: this marriage with the daughter of an emperor too powerful for you to even fathom to defeat. You knew the answer to Brook's question quicker than Chopper had replied.

"He's the kind of guy who'll try not to cause us any trouble so he'd try to separate himself from us."

Nami nods slowly, and the ache in your chest builds the franticity within you. "When he tossed us outside, he could've gotten away too. When he wrote the note, I think he'd already made up his mind to go by himself." She meets your regard and you see the discomfort in her irises. She can see your concern, but it soon turns into a fierce resolve.

You had to at least try to get him to open up to you; to talk to you.

You would do anything for Sanji. You had to go see him and stop him. Surely, he was not doing this of his own free will, surely there were layers to this marriage and he obviously had his reasons why he must concede to them. So, when Luffy had shouted that he would go meet with Sanji and talk to him, you had agreed instantly despite the anxious murmurs of the crew.

"You're facing an emperor!"

Their concerns were valid but your worry for your boyfriend was more significant. He would never hurt you, or that's what you thought when you had joined Luffy, Nami, Brook and Chopper on your journey to Whole Cake Island. Surely he would open up to you as you had done to him so many times before. Surely he would come to his senses the moment he laid eyes on you. You could not fathom anything otherwise.

How wrong you were.

.....

When Sanji saw you, Luffy and Nami, for a moment his heart was overcome with hope, but it diverted immediately to utter fear and despair. His heart rate raged against his chest and in the presence of his brothers and father, his trepidation only grew.

Why were you here? Why were you here where he could not protect you?

When Luffy had flung himself onto his carriage with his wide smile and optimistic words, his mind could only pitch what was on the line. His hands were set to detonate if he even desired to leave, those on the Baratie were in jeopardy and you; the crew. He could not let you live a life under the rein of an emperor he knew would show little mercy.

He loved you; God did he love you.

But you just couldn't be here.

When Sanji had kicked Luffy from the carriage, you had watched, heart in your throat and completely stunned. You could hear Nami shouting at Sanji, "Hey! What are you doing Sanji-kun!" But when Sanji met eyes with you, he knew the only way to get you to leave; the only way to protect you was with words that would make you despise him.

"Get packing, you low-class pirates!"

You are voiceless at the way his eyes could contort to a way that shone with such disdain.

"My name is Vinsmoke Sanji. I'm a prince of the Germa Kingdom! I'm sorry for keeping it a secret. I thought that it'd make you miserable. The difference between our standings couldn't be clearer. If I stay here, I can spend money and use soldiers and servants as I like. Going back to that crappy ship with you... or staying here, marrying Big Mom's beautiful daughter."

Your heart falters as you hear the words slip his lips.

"It's pretty obvious which is a happier life. Don't take the note seriously. I won't go back with you! I can't believe you've come all the way here."

There is a silence that lingers on your behalf, and the way Sanji looks to you - to all of you - makes you want to wither and perish. You can hear Luffy shouting to Sanji in complete denial of his words, anger morphing on his face. Sanji approaches slowly as Luffy refuses to go away, and even as he leaves the carriage his expression does nothing to falter.

"I don't know what made you come, but I appreciate that you took the trouble. Having said that, if you really think about me, you should've done the opposite. Rather than being with you guys who are poor and weak, it'd be better to be part of the rich and powerful Big Mom Pirates. I'll be happier-"

"SHUT UP!"

Your words reach the air, interrupting your boyfriend's words before you can stop yourself. Sanji's heart lurches at your anger-tainted words, and yet he finds himself silently begging that you would leave quietly. However, you are too hurt to answer his prayers. You rush forward, past Luffy and Nami who calls your name hesitantly. You move until you're in front of Sanji, hands balled into fists by your side.

"Shut up! You can't mean that! Sanji-" Your words start to wilt the more you see his unbending stare remain on you, piercing and urging you to hate him, but you wouldn't. "How can you say that, Sanji? I know you; I know this can't be what you want. Just tell me the truth, we won't run, we'll fight whatever it is that you are fighting. You don't have to protect me from anything... I just want to be with you. Please Sanji, I love you, I know you love me too-"

"You actually believe that?"

You freeze when Sanji speaks to you, eyes unwavering, shaded expression, persuasive words. "What? Sanji stop, what are you-" But when you look up he is looking at you in a way you could not fathom to be true. Such contempt and hostility, and a hint of mockery. "You actually think, I care about you? That I want to protect you?" You shake your head slowly as aversion starts to build up within you.

"You're a liability, [y/n]."

"I was bored and miserable with you. The emperor is giving me a chance with her daughter, a woman who could actually make me happy. Who are you to deny me that?" You grit your teeth, anger taking hold of you, as you step forward and grasp the collar of his shirt in your hold. Sanji's eyes flicker with a moment's surprise before returning to the deadpan stare that you begin to despise.

"You're lying," you say, but Sanji does not falter. Your tears start to pour down your face as you look at your boyfriend devoid of his love. "Come back to the Sunny with us, Sanji. Let me in Sanji. Where's the man I fell in love with?" Sanji doesn't think that he loathed himself more than he did the moment he stared back at you, desperately trying to keep his own tears at bay. How could this be the way he says goodbye to the love of his life?

"It was all an act. Of course, I could never love a low-life like you."

At his words, you think you feel something break deep within you. Your hold goes limp on his collar and your eyes are wide in shock. Tears pour down your face, but suddenly you feel numb and you think you can actually hear your heart break. You hear Luffy's rage from behind you along with Nami's shouts of outrage. You can hear the muffled laughter of Sanji’s brothers beyond the carriage at your crestfallen expression.

Nami drags you back to her. Sanji fights Luffy so that he would make him leave too. But you feel so hollow you hardly even register the events that take place around you. When Luffy falls limp to the ground you still look numbly to the man in front of you.

Nami's slap was sharp against Sanji's cheek, but what twisted his insides more was the fact that you did nothing. Instead, you looked at him with the most barren expression he had ever seen from you. An expression he fought to keep from touching your face was placed in front of him because of him. Sanji almost broke, but he could say nothing. "Goodbye. Sorry- we should've never done this." Nami's words are harrowing to his ears, but again he could say nothing. She instantly went to your side uttering comforts but he no longer saw your face.

In his mind, he screamed at you to stay. He screamed that he wanted to be with you for eternity. That he loved you like nothing else in this world. He never wanted to leave you, he never wanted to marry anyone but you. The days spent chasing women were left behind in the past like specs of dust. You were all that had encompassed him. You were all that made him feel worthy of love and life and warmth.

His shock when he learnt that you, actually felt the same was like the feeling of his heart retching free and soaring through the sky. He never thought a day would come when a woman he loved as much as he loved you, could return that same devotion. He was in heaven. Every day with you was heaven. He never even dreamt that a goodbye would come, because he would rather perish than let it become reality.

He had made his worst nightmare come true.

All because he couldn't let you in. He couldn't hurt you. He wouldn't let the burdens on his back be the burden on yours. He doesn't want to cause you misery because of a choice he made or a past that he runs from. You were his angel, and he felt as though reaching out would taint your heart and your outlook on him.

And so, he left.

His brothers laughed and shouted absurdities, but he didn't look back.

"Damn Sanji, you sure had some tasteful women on your crew."

"Yeah call back the chick with the [h/c] hair! If you don't want her I might entertain her for a night or-"

"Shut up!"

Such fury fills him at his brother's words that he loathed their beings almost as much as he loathed himself.

Luffy's words that he would stay unmoving until his return echo through the distance placed between you both, and that is when he lets his tears slip. But his tears aren't for his Captain, they're for you. You and the life he thought he was so blessed to share with you. He had thought so stupidly that maybe all the turmoil he had faced in his early life was because you would be waiting in the future, and be a hundred times worth the despair he had felt.

But of course, it would all be stripped away. You wouldn't forgive him. He wouldn't forgive himself. He would have to live with the fact that the love of his life was gone for good, and along with you, any ounce of love he felt in his heart.

.....

"Stop Dreaming! Will I Marry that low life? No way!"

"That idiot played right into my hands. And fell for me."

Isn't it funny, how you don't realise the damage your words can do until they are thrown back at you?

Was this how you felt when he had thrown your love away?

No, it must've been worse because these were the words of a woman he couldn't love, but you; he had loved you and you had loved him. The words from his fiancé sounded shrill and sharp against his ears, but he could not even compare how he would've felt if those words were from you.

Sanji felt the energy leave him as suddenly as his hopes to move on from you and the crew had come. What was wrong with him? Leant heavily on a wall he listens as this woman berates him for his stupidity. But he deserved it. That's what he thought.

He had left the days of chasing women long ago, but he found himself forcing himself back into the rhythm just to push the thoughts of you from his head.

Yes, I'll cook for pudding-chan.

Yes, I'll just revert to Sanji. The Sanji who loves women.

Yes, I'll forget, I'll move on.

But the dish he made for Pudding was the abundance of favourite foods of his crew. The one in larger quantity was yours. '[y/n]...' Sanji retched himself free of your image for only a moment but his heart jolted laboriously against his chest. He missed you. But then, he'd remember the flash of your downcast eyes shining in utter despondency and in the absence of the love he usually saw in them.

He didn't deserve you.

But when he hears Pudding's words mock him of his love and being. He did nothing but miss you. Miss your kind words and gentle touch. Miss your honest love and your silent comforts. Miss your joy and laughter and the glimmer in your eyes when he cooked something for you.

Fuck, he missed you.

Sanji crumbles, flowers lost from his grip and food long forgotten. He reaches for a cigarette; he was on his last few having gone through them like nothing these past few days. But as he reaches the lighter and flicks and flicks and flicks again, there is no light. When finally, a glimmer of hope prevails and he sees his cigarette catch fire, it is out in an instant by the pouring rain.

The vision of your smiling face is lost along with it.

One tear slips past his face, followed by another. His heartache was almost unbearable as he felt himself move away. Anywhere was better than listening to the words of the woman he was betrothed to. But the place he wanted to be in most was the embrace of the woman he loved.

.....

Now you are standing there, in his grasp and in front of him, but your eyes were filled with a pain he feared he couldn't ever undo.

"Please love, I don't want to move on from you..."

Your eyes meet his and he sees an emotion he had never seen in your gaze: hesitation. You were usually so sure with him, so usually knowing that he was your safe space and your comfort and all you could need. Sanji hates that he had stripped that all away.

You begin to speak but he is quick to cut off your sparing words.

"Sanji-"

"I never loved her."

Your eyes shoot open as his words tumble like boulders from his mouth.

"I- I only love you. Those words I said to you, I didn't mean a single thing. I don't hate you, I wasn't miserable with you, I was the happiest I had ever been and I was stupid to give it up so quickly. I was a coward. I-"

A tear slips lonely down your cheek, but you are surprised when you feel slight anger ignite in your system rather than resistance.

"That's what you think I'm angry about Sanji?"

The man in front of you freezes mid-sentence, his anxious eyes giving way to utter confusion.

“I-“

"That's what you think hurt me?"

You let out a soft, emotionless laugh as you look to the ceiling and back to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

"I wanted you to let me in, I wanted you to let me help you. I told you not to protect me, I told you to let me fight with you but you didn't."

There is a silence that unveils the sentiment of truth in your pain. Your own boyfriend had left you with bitter words, but what had torn your heart to shreds was the fact that you thought he did not trust you to carry his burdens as he did yours. You thought that a relationship with him would concur to you being his person as much as he was yours and yet he had shut you out and walked away.

"You pushed me away."

Your last words to him are quiet, and the pain exceeds what you can hold back so tears start to cascade quickly down your face.

"Sanji-"

He moves before you even have the chance to continue, your broken words causing his own chest to squeeze painfully. He pulls you close to him and in an instant, you are engulfed in his arms and your senses are filled with his familiar scent and warmth. You tremble slightly as you push your face deeper into his chest, and his face buries itself into your skin.

Sanji feels his heart contort painfully as it goes from warmth to agony.

How can a woman such as you exist?

Your kindness he didn't deserve? Your love and consideration he had hid himself from? Your devotion to him? All this time he had thought the words he spoke to you were what caused the distance between the two of you. But you were hurting because he had not trusted that you would accept him and comfort him and carry his hardships as yours.

"I'm so sorry love. I- I just didn't want you to know. I didn't want you to see how pathetic I was in my earlier life. I didn't want you to see me differently. I didn't want to burden you or cause you hurt."

Your tears start to slow and your heart rate steadies as you find solace in the chasms of his arms. "I know that I just-" Your words stumble into your soft cries.

"I just wanted to help you."

When Sanji pulls away and looks into your eyes, he finds in them a glimmer of hope. Could he dare to ask for your forgiveness? When he moves next it is out of all the love he has for you in his heart, all of his regret and sorrow and devotion. His breath is hot against your lips before they connect, deep and soft and passionate. He brings your form closer to him, his touch like fire on your skin.

You finally respond.

A hand carves its way into the depths of his blond hair as you pull him impossibly closer. You move desperately against him and pour all the fondness and misery you held onto into the kiss. It lasted for long moments, the pressing of your mouth to his, the warmth and the love. When you pulled apart his head rested on yours, his affection still lingering on your skin. Your breaths were uneven.

"My love, forgive me."

When his gaze meets yours, it is filled with his pure, honest intention. Yes, the division cast between you may take more than a kiss to heal. Yes, the trust shared between you may have to be built from a hundred conversations and reassurances. But the love that the both of you had was true, and you knew that neither one of you would be moving on from the other. So, you smile tenderly and sadly at him as you tug his face to yours and connect your lips softly and deliberately.

In your mind was one thought.

You'll both be just fine.

[awordsmith]

rained on with you 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you attend a few of Spencer's classes as an auditor for personal reasons and he calls you out in front of the class, and has no idea just how off he is.

katcember

who? spencer reid x college!reader when? s13 category: angst to fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: kidnapping of a sibling, mentions of sa (not you), anger, shouting, stress, public embarrassment, student/professor dynamic (you're not his student), Spencer being sexually harassed by female students, intense despair and sadness, self-loathing, guilt, thoughts of murder, happy ending, not proofed, reid with care word count: 8.7k a/n: my first post, be pleasant! this actually made me cry because I've had a teacher I trusted and felt comfortable with yell at me for something I thought was completely okay in front of not only my class, but another class. enjoy!

You cursed yourself, there was something about the dreary weather outside that had you rushing through the outdoor halls of the building that made everything worse, you thought perhaps it was because it perfectly resembled what you felt inside.

It's been a month, you'd told yourself the first time you'd decided to audit the first class. It was a sociology class by a woman you'd never heard of, it wasn't even a general class needed for your major, you could have taken it as an elective, sure, but by that time, the deadline to add and drop classes had ended.

You'd taken notes and must have read them a hundred times over again, the police were kind at first, understanding, but as you began to compile more and more information, they stopped listening.

Two months had gone by and they'd eventually labeled her as a runaway. It wasn't uncommon for girls her age, but you knew your sister, and it just did not make sense.

That's when you decided it was you or no one, your parents could not handle the thought of anything else, and they too–eventually–chose to move on. "For the better," they'd said, it had made you so angry and feel so incredibly helpless at the same time.

How could they–her own parents–give up just like that?

Not you. You would never forget your sister, nor her person. You had gone over the day multiple times in your head and yet could not wrap around the fact that she'd just vanished without a trace.

You were entering the third month of her disappearance in December, and coincidentally her birth month. You did not want to celebrate without her and though the mere thought of her threatened tears rolling down your cheeks, you couldn't stop. It was as if the guilt wouldn't let you.

During the day, you attended your normal classes, and at night, almost every night, including Friday–tonight–you'd attend a lecture-based class that surrounded around psychology, sociology, and criminology. You had become a regular in each of the classes, criminology being the last you started attending.

You took vicarious notes, and when you weren't studying for your course classes, you were cramming as much information you'd learned from your secret night classes into your head and pouring it into your sister's disappearance.

To quench your need for sleep, you'd taken up drinking a lot more coffee than one should normally take in a day. You had been running a little behind schedule, so when you walked into the lecture hall and all eyes–including the professor's–fell on you, you absently took a small step back.

"Sorry I'm late," you murmured, avoiding his eyes as you moved to take a seat in the front like you normally did. The hall wasn't that big and most students sat in the back-row, what few did sit in the front were pretty quiet and never said a word to you. The lights were always dim, but enough for you to see your paper and pen.

The scent of rain and coffee wafted through the air as you began the trek to your normal seat. A question abruptly stopped you in the middle of the row, you had passed all the other students and you normally would have deigned to go around them, but thought not to interrupt the prof introducing the topic of today.

"What's your name?" Called the professor. You were startled as you set your back pack on the floor and slid into a seat.

"My–my name?" you swallowed, wishing the floor would swallow you.

"Yes, your name." His voice was thick and laced with something more than displeasure.

You glanced up at him, biting your cheek for a moment, deciding how to respond. What could it hurt? You thought. You looked back up at him, meeting his eyes, they were soft, and for some reason you abruptly wondered how old he was, surely not much older than you. You mumbled out your name, then shifted in your seat to lean down and rummage through your bag for your notebook.

"I don't actually believe you're in my class," he glanced around the room briefly before his eyes returned to you, your head down. He waited patiently for you to lift it again and meet, "I'm not in the habit of being straightforward like this," he began walking toward you.

Your heart pounded in sync with each step he took. Was he made you hadn't asked him to audit his class? You should have just asked him, but he always seemed to be with someone, you even once tried to find him during his office hours, but you didn't really want to go into depth about why you wanted to listen to his lectures. You'd barely escaped the previous two.

Besides, he'd looked intimidating, just as he did now, hovering above you with his arms crossed, "tell me," you kept your head down as your cheeks grew red, knowing every one in the class had their eyes on you, "why do you keep coming back?"

When you didn't respond as you just didn't know how, he scoffed, "listen, I don't mean for this to come off as personal, but stop." You jerked your head upward, eyes pleading. He was the only professor that aloigned with your schedule.

He rolled his eyes, ran a hand down his face, and sighed. "Stop–just," he held bout a hand, a resigned and indifferent expression on his face, "girls like you are the reason I don't allow auditors in my class anymore. If you're not curious about the material, there is no reason for you to be here."

"But I am," came the tiny squeak of your voice.

He laughed, but tried to cover it up with a cough as he deigned to look at you again, "I have students here," he motioned toward the other students in the hall with his arms, "who I'm sure would appreciate their time and energy being respected, I know I do." His face fell flat, "so do us all a favor and–

"What?!" Came your realized reply. For as long as it took you, you were surprised the prof had not yet realized the mixup. You felt less embarrassed now and more–pissed. How arrogant can one person be? How big is too big an ego? "Are you crazy?" You couldn't help the shout as you stood.

To his credit, the prof–yeah, you didn't even know his name–and he thought, you scoffed internally, rolling your eyes on this outside, you took a few steps forward until you were in front of him. You shoved your notebook in his chest and waited for him to grab it before taking another step back, doing your best to ignore the number of eyes that were most defiantly flying between you and the prof.

"Look, I'm sorry I interrupted your lecture, and I'm also sorry for not asking to audit it, but to say that I've been using my free nights where I could be sleeping or working on her case to see you–" you took a breath, face flushed despite how you both wanted to laugh and cry and scream, "whatever," you shook your head, a scoff leaving your lips as you did so; you turned around, snatched your book bag from the floor, and stormed out, letting the metal door fall closed with a hard thud.

You only got a few paces away before tears began welling in your eyes and you plastered yourself against a nearby wall, the car lot you'd been at no more than 5 minutes ago right around the corner. "I'm sorry," you whispered, "I'm so–o, so-rry," you wiped your eyes, your voice trembling with and cracking with the weight of the day and the most recent events. You knew that it wasn't the last you'd see of that prof, you'd need to go back eventually to get your notebook back, that is–if he kept it, for all you knew he'd thrown it away already.

Whatever the case, just one last time, you'd need to talk to him just once more, if only to get your stupid notebook back that you stupidly handed over in a moment of dumbfounded and audacity-stricken. You just couldn't believe it.

You shook your head, swiping at the tears that had began streaming down you face. You'd go during one his office hours, perhaps he'll feel sorry or guilty. Good, you thought, he should.

Not tonight though, tonight, you were sleeping, you weren't going to think about anything. Your body was exhausted and you knew it; it had been for a while and yet you neglected it the sleep it desperately needed for favor of finding your sister and keeping up your normal schedule.

Just one night, you thought, making your way into the lot.

Huffing, you stuffed your hands into your pockets, it had been a few days now, you let Saturday and Sunday pass, Monday too, today, you couldn't handle it any longer. You needed your notebook, you were nearly there, you had gone over your suspect list, you had what you thought was a solid profile, though you couldn't be too sure, you were planning to go over it with the sociology professor when you had the chance, though you had no idea if she'd be able to give you anything more, especially if she didn't take it seriously.

You were just thinking that you could probably say it was a personal project, something to get your gears turning when you ran headfirst into someone. "Oh, I am so sorry," you backed away, reaching an arm out to steady the girl.

She glanced at you, tear-marks down her face, "it's fine," she huffed and held her head up, "it's nothing," she smiled painfully, "my fault really," she turned to you with an endearing expression, "thank you, though." She walked off quickly, no doubt wanting to get to her car.

It was such a strange experience, you had to rub your own head, thinking you'd hit it too hard and that's why you weren't walking in a straight line.

Nearing his office, you puffed out your chest, ready to stand your ground and demand your book back if necessary. You didn't believe yourself above the law, but spending a night or three in a jail didn't seem all too bad when only God knew what your sister was going through.

The smell of coffee hit you, like it always did, it became somewhat familiar in your routine, smelling it now–when you normally didn't–almost through you off.

You cleared your head and were about to clear your throat before stepping into his office, when you caught a sentence, he wasn't alone. You raised a brow and pressed your back against slightly ajar door, "please," it was the prof–his shaggy brown hair and puppy brown eyes appeared as a perfect image in your head, though his eyes were narrowed in your depiction. You glared back at the him from last Friday, then paused, catching the other side of the conversation.

"I–I don't know what you mean," murmured the student–a girl. You briefly thought of the girl you'd ran into, then through the image away in favor of eaves dropping. "I just," a char creaked and a heavy sigh came.

"Listen," the prof's gruff voice was lighter this time, he sounded almost...awkward. You smirked at it, now he was intimidated by a girl? An actual student of his no less? What kind of pathetic–

"I just was to know how I can please you, in the class, I mean," she corrected yourself, but the meaning was there and it made you cough, you'd covered it in time, swiftly moving your face into the inner side of your elbow.

"And I've told you," the prof's chair shifted, man he must be uncomfortable, you thought, feeling a little sorry for him. You had no idea–it just never crossed your mind–that he could have been yelling at you from a reasonable stand point.

You sighed and through your head back, prepping yourself for something you most definitely shouldn't do.

"I know what you said, Sir, but," the girls voice began to get pushy, which is when you thought it finally time.

You swept open the door all the way and stepped inside, arms crossed a sly smile on your face, "sorry to interrupt, oh," you let your eyes fall to the girls, "sorry I didn't know you were with someone, but," you had the decency to try looking regretful, "I'm sorry, this is really important."

It took a few seconds for the girl to register that you were now addressing her. She glanced at your dominating figure and then back at the prof, who looked both grateful and constipated. You bit your cheek to keep from laughing.

"Right," the prof said, turning to the girl who now went limp in the chair, "thank you for stopping by, I appreciate it I do."

The girl nodded solemnly, understanding this was a polite way of being dismissed. She collected her things gravelly, which is when you paused, she was young–fresh out of high school young. What was she doing trying to mess with a professor her first year in university?

Her face pinged familiar when she looked at you and you instantly made the connection from the girl you'd bumped into earlier. Your eyes widen and a just barely audible, "oh," came from you mouth.

When she was gone, you took a breath before turning back around, meeting his eyes in a silent, "so, that was crazy," his lips formed a line and his eyes almost shrugged for him.

"Does that happen a lot?" You didn't know why you asked, but you did, and well, he answered didn't he?

"More times than students come in with actually problems." He frowned, eyes fixed on the door left open.

"Maybe that just mean you're a good teacher?" You raised a brow, at least you thought he was, he did ramble sometimes, but it was enjoyable, seeing as how you were used to it. Well, you used to be, Your face tightened, "my notebook," you roamed your eyes over his desk before looking up again, "I want it back."

He nodded thoughtfully, watching you for a moment, "who is she?"

Your eyes fell, so he had read it, "my sister."

He nodded again, though you only looked back up when he pulled open a drawer. "I assume you..." his sentence broke off when heavy rainfall began.

He glanced at the door again, then at you, to which you smiled, though small, kind, "we can leave it open."

Relief filled his face and just for a second it made you angry on his behalf. Why hadn't he gone to the dean of his college? Surely it wouldn't be as bad as what he'd been going through now.

You opened your mouth to say something about it, but he spoke before you, "uhm, the case, it was dropped?"

You nodded, "yeah, last month."

"I assume you have a list? This was pretty detailed work," he held up your notebook.

"Thank you, but that's not all I have," you informed, "that's just my notebook for your class, which is incredibly insightful by the way, you should really think about becoming full time, your lectures aren't that hard to understand once you're comfortable and familiar with the material and usage of vocab..u...lar..y..." you dropped of your sentence, glancing away.

He chuckled, almost startling you out of your seat, "it's okay, I do that sometimes too."

You smiles slightly, "I know, you do it constantly during your lectures and seminars."

His smile cracked and he looked a little worried, "do I?"

You snorted, "Don't worry, they're interesting and most of the time relatable to the discussion or topic." He nodded, looking a little conscious. "So," you prodded, noting the book still in front of him.

"Oh, right," he picked the book up and handed it back to you, you didn't know what else to say, so you began to stand, "you know," his voice echoed through the office, though not large and with rain pouring down as if a hurricane was about to roll in, still clear, "if you want I can take a look at it, I am an FBI profiler."

You turned back to him and raised a brow, "what was your name again?"

He looked shellshocked, "you, you don't know my name?"

"Don't take it personal," you waved off, "I don't know my real professors' names, I call them all prof or professor for a reason."

"Do you call me professor?" He smiled, intrigued by the sudden admission. It was a little feeing, knowing that not only did he have a student in his office whom enjoyed his seminars and took detailed notes during his lectures, but who didn't have a single clue who he was. He'd written paper's, was on live television more times than he could recall–and he had an eidetic memory–and still, she did not know a single thing about him other than he taught twice a week once on a Wednesday night and once on a Friday night. He was honestly surprised he was able to get off work in time to head over to campus and set up.

"Prof," you said, grinning smugly, "professor isn't your style."

"Why not?" He scrunched his brows together.

"You're too young, it makes me feel weird and takes a hit at my pride," you grabbed your chest dramatically.

A snort came from his throat as he watched you reenact Romeo and Juliette, act 5, scene 3. He paused, referring to you as Juliette could be misinterpreted and he did not want that. He liked talking to you despite himself and he frowned as he recalled how he'd embarrassed you lat Friday, "I'm sorry," he tilted his head downward, watching your smiling eyes find his, "last Friday, that was uncalled for..."

You stared at him for a long while, trying to figure out how to say it, but eventually gave up and let your thoughts spill out, "yes, it was." He winced slightly at the harshness, you did too, you hadn't realized hoe hurt you still were, but you sighed, "at least I thought it was." He lifted his eyes and you averted yours, "look, it's not my place or anything, but what's happening is not okay, it's harassment. You should.." you bit your lip, frowned, and met his eyes through your lashes, "why haven't you gone to the dean?"

He took a breath and sat down in his chair, it squeaking on impact. You watched him run a hand through his hair, he looked contemplative, "I don't know...I just," he huffs, "they're kids, they have their entire life ahead of them, I don't know how I could just take that all away because of some silly crush."

The way he said "silly" instead of "stupid" or "annoying" made you smile. Your heart warmed and at the same time you felt sorry for him, but you were also beyond confused, "you said you were an FBI profiler?" He nodded, "then, how can't you tell the difference between–" you stopped yourself, that wasn't fair to him at all. "All right," you nodded, "if you won't go to the dean, that's your choice," you pressed your lips together, "but if you ever need a rescuing like today," you patted your arm, "I can be your superman."

His eyebrows furrowed, "don't you mean supergirl?"

"Nah," you smiled smugly again, "I mean superman."

He nodded, a grin falling over his face like it'd been waiting to break free, "okay, thanks. Oh, and–uhm," he pulled out his phone, "should I email you?"

You nodded, "as long as you let me continue auditing your class."

He smiled, eye alight with something you were certain you had never seen cross his face in the two months you'd been taking his lectures and seminars. "If you want me to look at your sister's case," he said quietly after you'd hit the door, "I'd be willing to mention it to my team."

Your eyes widened and you spun around, tears already in your eyes, you kept your hope down, but your thankfulness as clear as the notion you were going to get soaked before reaching your car was. "I would appreciate it greatly, even if nothing comes of it."

He smiled, "I'll let you know what they say after class tomorrow."

"Thank you," you swiped at your eyes, wondering how someone who you had never spoken to you up until now could make you cry so much.

You spun around, notebook covered under you shirt, and headed down the hall, where you were bound to face the wrath of the climate.

You worked out the finality of your suspect list, you could not narrow it as you'd have to actually interact with these people, and if you did, you could only think of what that meant for you sister. You didn't have all the information the cops had gathered, in fact you had significantly less, the only thing you had that the cops didn't was relation.

You threw your head back and groaned, you were hoping the prof had done his job. Yes, you still called him prof, it hit you a few minutes after ringing out your clothes before getting in your car, he'd never told you his name. You felt an urge to go back and ask, knowing it was going to keep you up at night, but as much shit as you talked, you were not brave enough to face the wind and rain again.

You were waiting for it to start hailing, thanking your school for having rooftops over their car lots. Sure enough it did bug you, but what bugged you more was what his team would say. Would they help? Would they roll their eyes and state that she clearly just ran away? Your sister was 23, her birthday was around the corner, you were just a year younger, though your birthday had passed already.

You slide out of your car, breathing in the fresh air, hoping the wind was all you got tonight. You felt someone watching you, knew you were probably just tired. It had happened a few times, so you weren't too concerned.

You were early, not wanting to cause any disruption like the last time you were here. It was a Wednesday, but at this time, the school wasn't as crowded, sometimes, if you were desperate you parked in the teaches lot and hopes no one would pay too much attention.

Your nose picked up the scent of coffee again and you couldn't help the cheeky grin that spread across your face, nor the welling in your eyes. What would he say? Would his team take the case? Would they try helping anyway if they couldn't? Despite yourself, you couldn't help but hope.

When you popped your face in, there were a few students already settled. Some glanced at you, some were too distracted by their phones, none seemed to be much affected by your presense.

"Oh, there you are," came a deep and yet squeaky voice. You spun around, finding the prof behind you, he tightened his lips, averting his eyes from your every time you found his.

Your heart failed, they had denied it. You gulped and prepared yourself, "it's alright–"

"So, they took the case–"

He startled at your disappointment as you startled at his shifty eyes. "What?" Your voice seemed octave, "what do they think?"

"Well," he stepped away from the door and moved you along using ah hand on your back so that a student might get through. You wondered what they thought of you, probably incredibly confused as to why you were still here, having an intimate conversation with their professor after he had so easily confirmed his distaste of you just a few days ago.

"What happened?" You prompted, "just tell me, I can take it." You nodded assuredly.

He huffed, stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned his back adjacent the wall, "how long has your sister been missing?"

"December 21 will make it a full three months," you stated, "what does it matter?"

"They've agreed to take the case, but they're concerned," he started, "they–" a few students passed us and entered the classroom.

You glance down at your phone, "we can continue after class," you spun around without a word and entered the class, half wondering why in the world his team took the case, you were pretty sure–from what you gathered in your night lessons–FBI profilers, BAU agents, only dealt with serial killings. It was a long shot really, and you knew there were likely cases that rendered more serious, but you just could not pass up the offer.

You didn't want to question it, but you did, the prof ended class early and that's it, you thought, I need his name, calling him prof isn't going to do it anymore.

You collected your things slowly, waiting for the hall to empty. When it was, you headed for his desk at the corner of the room. "They never found a body?" He questioned as soon as you braced your hands against his desk, back pack discarded to the side on the floor.

"No," you shook your head, eyes determined, "if they did, my parents or I would have been called in to ID it." You were sure she was still alive, you could feel it.

"If they haven't found a body, there's a good chance she's still alive," he affirmed your suspicions, in any case, I'm not really suppose to be discussing this with you...but I think we're a little past that."

"I'm superman," you remind him, chuckling away the pain in your voice "only kryptonite can hurt me."

He smiled, genuinely, kindly, "they've already started working on it."

Your eyes widened, "already? The police reopened the case?"

He faltered slightly, "not exactly...but...we have skilled...team members."

"My lips are sealed," you mimed zipping your lips.

"Did you bring your suspect list?" You raised a brown and he smiled smugly, as if to say, "come on now."

You pulled your book bag onto his desk as he stood and brought around a stool that seemed to have materialized from thin air. You moved out the way and allowed him to set it down, murmuring a thank you as you took a seat.

He was dialing someone on his phone as you slid over your list, when the person answered, he put the phone on speaker, "hey, Garcia, I'm gonna need you to run background check on a list."

"What'doyou got for me, Doctor?" Came a woman's voice from the other side of the line.

Doctor? You squinted your eyes, watching the man in front of you. Accomplished, was the world that boiled in your mind, this man was incredibly accomplished, how old was he exactly? It made you wonder, honestly. You were in your last year of college, ready to go full time after this year, but not without your sister. You still had so much you wanted to do with her.

The phone call ended, you had tuned out the entire time, "you're skilled teammate, I suppose," you raised a brow, your lis quirked slightly upward.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd make a one hell of a profiler." He grinned back, eyes lingering.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, oh no, your subconscious screamed, but your conscious replied anyway, "and what do you know, Doctor?"

He snorted, "alright, first of all, it's Spencer, second of all," he lifted and pointed a finger at your clothing, "you stress easily, you clean up neater when you're trying to mask something, probably juggling being a full time student and full time rookie cop," his eyes dipped to your bag, where a pin of a true crime show you loved sat perfectly, "you have interest in crime, but you'd hate the profession because of the long hours." He reached for your bag and instead of stopping him, you watched, amazed,"you prefer alone time," he placed your current read in front of you, "which means you're most likely single and have been for while," he glanced at you momentarily, then went back to rummaging, "you listen to music when you're trying to focus," he set down your headphones and sets your bag to the side again, "and I can't prove it on my own, but I guarantee if you open your phone right now and look at your purchase history, it'll have more than the average orders spent at the coffee shop across from campus."

You nodded and gulped, "a magician."

He tilted his head with a crooked grin and raised and eyebrow, "no, it's–it's just–"

"–fucking awesome?" You asked, amazement written stark across your face.

"Yes," he cleared his throat, "well, anyway," he forced his gaze back down at the list in front of you when his phone rings.

It's the girl again, says a woman, Emily, had more information and thinks he may have a location. From what you got, your sister was most likely captured by a sex trafficking ring. Your heart sinks when you hear the new, hoping and praying they were able to find her, but you knew the probability, it had been months. "She could be half way across the world by now," your throat was raw and thick.

"Hey," Spencer placed his hand over yours, "it's going to be okay. I promise." But he didn't say they'd find her, he didn't say the probability of her being found at all could be a one in a million chance, and that's when you thought almost irritatingly, he is way too good at his job.

You stood outside the coffee shop a day later, watching the downpour of the day, huffing as you stepped inside the offered warmth of the shop. There was the usual barista at the counter, her smile genuine, "hey, I was just talking about you."

"Really?" You try for a smile, not wanting her to think your sour mood because of her.

"Yep, you want the usual?"

You nodded and stepped up to the counter, "actually can I add a chocolate croissant, too?"

"Sure thing," she rang you up and you sat down near a window to wait. Your fists strained against themselves, anger had racked your brain this morning. It was all you could think about, how you'd kill the people that hurt your sister, that could even think it okay–

You heard your name being called as the door to the coffee shop rung, you glanced up to see an odd looking abominable-Spencer, you snorted, "are you okay? What are you wearing?"

He approached you, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion as he shrugged off the giant, apparently rain- repellent coat, "it's a puffer jacket."

You smiled slightly, one of the realest smiles you've had since the kidnapping. "Did your team find something?" You asked as he placed the jacket on the chair across from you and sat down. You'd assumed so, since he had been the one to email you this morning during your fist class. The fog had cleared away, so you walked instead of driving, leading to regret as soon as you reached your destination, when the rain began to pour.

"Yes, actually," he nodded, "my...they found the drop off, where the gils were being held. You would have perked up if you didn't know what the look on his face meant.

"You didn't find her," you amended, an aching sadness falling over you. You thought it might have been because you'd spent all this time looking for her, trying to prove she wasn't a runaway, and you were so close. Even though you knew the probability of finding her was slim to none, you couldn't give up, your heart and mind wouldn't let you, as long as she lived, and she was alive, you'd never stop looking.

"They're interrogating a few of the..." he cleared his throat, noting the glistening of your wet cheeks. "They, they're also going over what the victims remember, hoping it'll give them some clue as to where...uh, the others were taken."

You gulp, nodding. For a second, you felt an urge to say her name, to tell him, but that wouldn't be fair, "thank you, for everything, Spencer."

"Of course," he frowned, without thinking his hand shot out and lifted your face, eyes darting over you, he was analyzing you.

Your lip quirked, "are you profiling me right now?"

His mouth hung ajar for a moment, eyes searching, then, "no, I've already done that."

You nod, "right, last night, you know my favorite book."

"That's not what I meant," he sighed, then, as if just no realizing, dropped your face so abruptly, you had to catch it. He leaned back, then stood, "I'm...gonna go order."

You nodded, your mind racing with the thoughts of your sister. How you just wanted to hold her hand one last time, press her against you, and tell her how sorry you were. That you didn't mean it, any of it. You had no idea where she'd gone after she'd left your apartment, she had just left.

The fight was stupid, it could have been avoided completely if you'd just been a little more understanding. You hated yourself for that, how could you be so selfish, it was just one person! It wasn't even a boy, it was her friend. Your reasoning may have been a little justified, but just because you didn't know this girl–your brain stopped. Your head shot up and you wiped your tears, waiting eagerly as Spencer sat back down.

"What?" He furrowed his brows, "what did you remember."

Damn him and his profiling skills, "there was a girl, that day, my sister and I had got into a fight, we have our own apartments, but mine's closer to campus, so when she's tired she'll usually crash at mine, sometimes with friends. I only had two rules for that, one there could be no more than 2 of her friends, and that I had to know them. But I didn't know her, and that's why we got into a fight." You take a breath as you ramble out all this information, "I'd thought it was strange, I even told the cops, but they brushed it off–she–she would have never done that. She never broke my rules, that's why I was so annoyed–" you murmur, "H, her name started something with an H, I think," then you remembered.

You told Spencer her name and he had his skilled teammate, Garcia, run that name through the universities system. Of course there were multiple, so you began trying to recall things that stood out.

"Got her," came the reply, "running background check, Rossi's on the other line, brb my sunshine," a click and the call was disconnected.

You stared in awe at the phone on the table, and then you grinned, you lifted your face and was met with an equally proud expression. Your order was called soon after and you stood to grab it. As you passed Spencer his arm shot out and halted you, you looked down at him questioningly, he opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and let you go, "it's nothing."

You nodded, a little nervously. You suppressed the butterflies in your stomach, this could only end one way, he was comfortable with you, he was helping you find your sister, the entire reason you'd began auditing his class. You had told him it wasn't for him and it wasn't, but what would be the point if now...

No, you would find your sister and cease contact with him, that'd b how this ended. I'm his superman, you thought, cringing slightly, and unfortunately I only have one weakness.

They'd did it, they'd found your sister. She was being rushed to the hospital and you and your parents were doing your best to contain your relief. You couldn't help but yell at them. "I told you so, I told you!"

You had emailed Spencer the good news, though he'd probably already knew. You emailed on sing your personal emails, seeing as the university monitored the ones on canvas.

The rush of excitement and thrill was frightening. The bags under your eyes would now disappear and you could sleep again without having nightmares.

"Where is she?" You all but screeched at the receptionist, your parents took assertion, and you let them. It was evident, even to you that you were not in the right state of mind, nor were you physically great. It had taken them four days. Four days to find your sister, all this time you were out searching, it felt like a waste of time.

You couldn't face her, you took a step back, terrified of her reaction. As your parents rushed to the elevators, you stayed where you stood. You ignored their calls to you, you face unreadable in their eyes. As the elevator door shut, your took a shuddering breath. The hospital was full, which didn't seem unusual for the staff, but it was too loud for you.

Too loud, you wanted to scream, and cry, and break down, but you didn't deserve that. Not after all your sister went through.

"Hey, hey, hey," calm and gentle, his voice tugged at you like a life raft. You turned as and soon as you met his eyes the tears fell, you let out a loud wale as he wrapped you in his arms.

"She was–over two months!"

"Shh, shh," he rubbed your back and cradled your neck, you buried your face into his shoulder, "hey, it's not your fault," his voice went high for a second and then lowered again. You heart boomed in your chest–you loved that about him. The uncertainty in his voice, the way he didn't know if what he said was going to make the situation better or worse. In the single four days you had known him on a more personal level, he had grown and grown like a weed.

His presence made everything just a little bit bearable. Why, you didn't know, but you could not do this to him. You could not be the person he comforted on a daily basis because that's just what he expected of you, why he was weary and displeased with you in the first place. You could not feel this way about him, especially because it was almost mad–again you hadn't known his name more than three days.

"What did you mean?" You asked suddenly, pulling away, "when you said you had profiled me before?"

He pressed his lips together and used his thumb to wipe the tears that kept streaming down your cheek, the lights in the hospital seemed to dim and the nose seemed to filter out, "it's nothing, it doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me," you pressed, and then you thought his eyes held warning and you hated yourself all over again. "Right," you unlatched yourself from him, feeling caught it a lie, "I, I should go. Thank you for," you chuckled out a cry, but not for your sister, for you stupidity, and possibly the lost of your just formed friendship, "my families waiting."

He nodded and took–what seemed to you a bigger than necessary–step back. "See you later, then, superman."

You stifled a new set of tears and forced a smile to your face, and turned around, your face instantly falling. You stepped into the elevator, hyper aware of his eyes still watching you. You clicked the button, any button, just fo the door to shut and kept your head down, and when the doors closed, you fell to the floor, wrapping your arms around yourself.

A few floors later, you found your sisters and your parents. She was in bad shape, she had bruises all over her body, you watched your parents stand over her bed, trying to talk with her. It was okay at first, until the doctors brought out a rape kit, you just...you couldn't watch that. You needed air, you headed back toward the the elevator, your eyes rimmed red with crying and dark with the lack of sleep.

When you the elevator opened on the first floor, you kept your head down and your arms wrapped tightly around you, you walked swiftly toward the exist, too wrapped in your emotions to notice the person following you.

Once outside, you headed toward the side, where a small playground sat. You didn't know if you wanted children or not yet, or maybe you did want them, you couldn't think straight. The darkened playground comforted you. You found yourself coming face to face with a rock wall. Not too tall, but challenging enough for 10 year olds. You smiled to yourself and climbed until you reached the top, which was pretty disappointing, but it got you off the ground.

"I hope you're not thinking of jumping," his voice startled you, what was he doing here?

"Didn't you go home?" You questioned, you calfs coming face to face with the top of his head.

"I thought about it," he admits, his hand running along the wall, stopping as it finds one to grip, "but then I remembered," he hauled himself upward, "a friend I made just recently," he grunts as he pulls himself upward one final time, leaving a small space between you, "likes to watch the rain."

"What?" You your voice quivered as the word floated from your lips, but you were smiling...slightly.

He cleared is throat and held out his wrist, "one...two..."

You cleared your throat, trying to make is a bit firmer, "why are you counting–"

There, just the tiniest drop of water fell into you eye, you wiped it away, turning to him with widened eyes, "why didn't you stop me?"

You brace your hands against the rock to jump off, but Spencer stops you, grabbing you wrist, he called your name once and you made the mistake of looking into the big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

Soaked were you a few second later, Spencer too, though you weren't sure if that made up for it. There were no stars, clouds blocked them from your view. You smacked him on his chest shouting through the rain, "what the hell, Spencer?!"

"Technically, Hell is considered insanely hot by many of its believers!" He replies, earning another smack, this time to the shoulder, a laughing fit entangles the both of you as the rain fell around you and after a moment of absolute madness, you caught his eyes and you wondered if this meant what you thought it meant–what you couldn't stop your heart from hoping this meant.

"Thank you," you shouted once more, finding the courage to lean against him. It was odd, the colder you physically got, the warmer your mentally grew.

"Anytime, superman," he brushed strands of wet hair out of your face and you knew, you just knew what you felt, but it's not real, not to him. You were superman and Achilles said it best, "They never let you be famous and happy," and you knew how that story ended.

The weather seemed to ease up this morning, you were happy, two weeks had gone by and your sister was back at home in time to celebrate her birthday. You stopped auditing classes and seminar's, but you still found reasons to email Spencer. Yeah, you still emailed him, if he wanted you to have his number, he'd give it to you or ask for yours–besides, yo9u had grown fond of this way of communication, leaving everyone off with sincerely yours, superman.

He didn't seem to mind and alway replied instantly, he had become one of your closest friends, which awkwardly wasn't hard because–as he had stated previously, you preferred your alone time, which was a nicer way to say you didn't have many friends, but you didn't mind at all.

"Are you texting him?" Came your sister's question as she hopped next to you, wrapping an arm around you, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look at your screen.

"God–no," you grinned, standing up, pulling the phone out of her reach. "And it's emailing," you grumbled, heading into the kitchen.

"Emailing," she widened her eyes, following you to your kitchen, "honestly, I don't why you bother."

"He's more comfortable this way."

She took a sip of orange juice, nodding, "mm, right," she set the glass down, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, "because he's the hot professor girls were swooning over."

"It was harassment," you pointed out.

"Oh, right," she nodded, "and you just happen to come into his life at the perfect time." She put a hand over her forehead, "my savior, my superman." She giggle as you through a jolly rancher at her.

She dodged, "ow hey–those things hurt!"

You snorted, "mmhm."

"Ssss," she hissed holding her side.

Your rushed to her, worried eyes raking up and down her body to find the cause, "hey, are you sure you're fine? We don't have to go out tonight, like I said, Mom and Dad don't think it's a good idea either."

"H-hey," she laughed, but it was pained; you helped her get to her feet again, brushing a lock behind her face, "come one, I've been through hell and back, that basically means I'm invincible now."

You frowned, then smiled softly when she met your eyes, "okay, okay fine. But the second you seem off, we're coming home."

She nodded, "it's just an arcade, what worse could possibly happen that hasn't happened already?"

You frowned, glancing away, and bracing your wrists against the kitchen counter, "if you say so..."

She ran to your room and began picking out outfits, a few of her friends were meeting you at the arcade. You were kind of there to keep an eye on her, you still hadn't apologized for kicking her out that day with the girl–that witch. Too many times did you have dreams about wrapping you hands around her neck and squeezing until there was nothing left but dust.

You vowed to have Spencer have his tech genius friend, Garcia, run backgrounds on all of her friends moving forward. No one was safe anymore. Of course, you kept that bit to yourself.

"Come on, we're going to be late!" Your sister grabbed your arm, tugging you toward the front door, for a moment, your mind took you back to the day in the coffee shop around three weeks ago, when Spencer had grabbed your arm, he'd looked like he wanted to say something, and that was the first moment you realized you might've had a crush on him.

You frowned, feeling bitter about it. It was a shitty thing, a shitty thing for you to do, but you supposed you could not exactly control your emotions like you'd wished.

The day was clear and so far, the night was too, three of your sister's friends, ones you knew well and had more than once crashed at your apartment before, had met up with the two of you.

They headed into the arcade, getting halted do to a line. They pouted and poked fun at each other for almost running into a few children. It was a good time so far, and you were having fun, if not for you sake, for your sister's all the more, but there was an ache. Something was missing and you could feel it.

"You know," your sister fell back, letting the entrance to the arcade go, "he told me everything." You jolted, your gaze jerked watching her saddened expression. She watched the concrete, "you never stopped trying to find me," she lifted her gaze then, eyes sparking and frown flipping, "I guess he thought I should know because he probably knew you'd be too scared to tell me yourself."

Was she talking about Spencer? You couldn't breath, of course she was, who the hell else was there?

"Thank you," your heart melted at her words and tears sprang in your eyes, "and I forgive you, so don't worry about it. Besides, you're not the only one to blame." She threw her head back and snorted at herself, "I broke a rule, you've had them since the beginning. So don't be too hard on yourself okay?"

Her eyes caught on something behind you and her face lit up, "Spencer! Hey, glad you could make it."

He huffed, glancing down at you while you stared up at him in complete awe. "Magician," you murmured, his gaze settling on you for a second, "no, it's just me." He turned back to your sister, mouthing a 'thank you', then, "and happy 24th birthday."

"I should be thanking you, this way, she won't be analyzing everything I do."

The threw her head back and laughed, then slide through the door and found her friends in line again.

"Spencer?" You raised a brow, a half chuckle leaving your mouth, "what are you doing here?"

"Well," he stuffs his hands in his pockets, "I have...skilled teammates..." came his response.

"And that includes my sister?"

"No, no," he waved off, "I just was able to get her number." You raised a brow and he held his hands up. "After speaking with her in person–I thought she should know how much you cared–she invited me," he threw his hands up slightly, "here."

You connected the dots easily, this must have been after you'd told her about the people that found her, after you had told her a little more about the rude turned friend professor. Your cheeks burned, though the darkness hid it. As much as you loved and wanted to be around him constantly, it also hurt you, and you hated being around him because you knew, you knew you couldn't feel this way about him.

Except you did and you were bad at hiding it.

"What's that?" He sniffed at the air, turning around and walking toward the edge of the sidewalk, where concrete met blacktop, "it's...rain."

You threw your head back and groaned, "you're kidding."

"Nope," he laughed, holding out his hand where trickles began to fall.

"I have got to have the absolute worst luck," you huffed, smacking your hands to your cheeks.

"That," Spencer said, stepping in front of you, "or," he palmed your hands, pulling them away from your face, eye tracing every line–

"Please don't tell me your'e about to say something sappy." You cringed, then popped open one eye when he stayed silent.

He was huffing, trying to hold in his laughter, "no, no I'm just gonna," he leaned in, hands finding your face, and he kissed you. You'd thought about what it would be like and a few times you even caught yourself day dreaming about it, he smelled like coffee and rain, just how you preferred, and this was real.

Every part of you on fire, despite the wind that started pulling at the trees. Rain poured over you and you jolted, screeching, "no!"

Spencer laughed at you trying to pull him to safety, "what-what? Why?"

"Not this time," you grinned up at him.

"But–but that was the best part," he whined playfully, jabbing a thumb behind his shoulder, still letting you pull him by his hand under the roof of the arcade sidewalk. "I–I thought you loved the rain?" His voice went high, the low again, the way it always did when he was joking or nervous.

"I love watching the rain, I don't like to be in the rain." You corrected.

"But I love being rained on with you," he murmured, tilting his head; his big brown puppy dog eyes shining with affection.

"Maybe next time, Doctor," you huffed a laugh and he held the door open, and you stepped a small spin to walk in, using his arm as a dome.

a/n: (please let me know if there are any grammatical errors) I am so sorry I honestly did not mean for it to be this long when I thought of the idea, but when I began writing, I realized it would be way longer than I intended and actually is now my longest fic I have ever written. I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it <3

[strangled-slytherin]

Buried in Books

Summary: Theo finds you asleep on your books in the library after a long night of studying and insists on taking care of you.

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: None

It was late, well past curfew, but the library was still and quiet, save for the soft sound of Theo’s footsteps as he wandered through the rows of dusty bookshelves. He had been looking for you for the past hour, mildly annoyed but mostly concerned. You’d promised to meet him in the common room to go over notes for Potions, but when you didn’t show up, Theo knew exactly where you’d be—buried in a pile of books, probably lost in your studies.

As he turned the corner into one of the smaller study alcoves, his suspicions were confirmed. There you were, seated at a small table, surrounded by textbooks, parchment, and ink bottles. But you weren’t reading. Your head was resting on your folded arms, face turned to the side as soft breaths escaped your lips. You had fallen asleep, completely knocked out after what must have been hours of hard studying.

Theo paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement, his initial annoyance fading as he watched you sleep so peacefully amidst the chaos of your schoolwork. He shook his head, a fond smile pulling at his lips despite himself. You always did this—pushed yourself too hard, determined to get every detail just right, to master every spell and every potion. But sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop.

He approached quietly, his movements careful not to disturb you just yet. He could see the faint smudges of ink on your fingers and even a light streak on your cheek from where you’d likely brushed your hand across your face at some point. Your hair was slightly mussed, and the way you were slumped over the table looked far from comfortable.

Theo’s gaze softened as he knelt down beside you, his eyes taking in the sight of you, your peaceful expression as you slept, completely unaware of the world around you. He sighed quietly, feeling a mixture of fondness and exasperation. You always worked so hard, and he admired that about you—but Merlin, did you need to take better care of yourself.

Gently, he reached out and moved a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers light and careful, not wanting to wake you just yet. The simple action felt oddly intimate, and Theo hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering in the air before he pulled it back, clearing his throat softly.

"Y/N," he whispered, leaning in closer so that only you could hear him. "Come on, love, you can’t sleep like this. You’re going to wake up with a stiff neck."

You stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, your brow furrowing in your sleep, but you didn’t wake. Theo chuckled quietly under his breath, shaking his head. Typical. He wasn’t sure how you could sleep so deeply on such an uncomfortable surface, but somehow you managed.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, pushing the books aside carefully to make room for you. He stood up and gently slipped his arm under your shoulders, lifting you up just enough to coax you out of your awkward sleeping position. "Let’s get you somewhere a bit more comfortable."

You blinked groggily, starting to wake up as you felt yourself being moved. "Theo?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep as you rubbed your eyes, looking up at him in confusion. "What… what time is it?"

"It’s late," Theo replied, his tone soft but teasing. "Late enough that you shouldn’t be here, passed out on your textbooks like this. Come on, let’s get you back to the common room."

You blinked again, still disoriented and not fully awake. "I was just… studying," you mumbled, your head lolling back toward the table as if you were ready to fall asleep again.

Theo smirked, keeping his arm around you as he gently pulled you to your feet. "Yeah, I can see that," he said, amusement lacing his voice as he guided you away from the table. "But you’re not going to learn much if you’re asleep on your notes."

You groaned softly, leaning into him as you rubbed at your eyes. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep," you muttered, half-apologetic and half-embarrassed. "I was just trying to get through the chapter on antidotes…"

Theo rolled his eyes, though his expression was more affectionate than annoyed. "Of course you were," he said, shaking his head. "You work too hard, Y/N. You need to sleep, not drown yourself in textbooks."

You gave him a sleepy smile, though your eyes were still heavy with exhaustion. "But I have to be ready for the exam," you protested weakly, your words slurring slightly as you leaned more heavily into Theo’s side.

"The exam’s still days away," Theo replied, his voice gentler now as he led you through the dimly lit corridors, back toward the Slytherin common room. "You’ll be fine. You always are."

You hummed in response, not really arguing but not entirely agreeing either. You were too tired to put up much of a fight. "Thanks for coming to get me," you murmured, your head resting against his shoulder as you let him guide you.

Theo glanced down at you, his lips quirking into a small smile. "What else would I do? Leave you to drool all over your books?"

You gave him a sleepy laugh, shaking your head. "I wasn’t drooling," you mumbled, though the blush on your cheeks suggested you weren’t entirely sure if that was true or not.

Theo chuckled, his grip on you tightening just slightly as he helped you down the last flight of stairs. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night," he teased.

When the two of you finally reached the common room, Theo helped you over to one of the cushioned sofas by the fire. He knelt down in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he studied your face, making sure you were more comfortable now.

"You’re exhausted," he said softly, his voice losing its teasing edge. "Get some rest. We can go over the Potions notes tomorrow."

You nodded, your eyes already half-closed as you curled up on the sofa, the warmth of the fire making it impossible to stay awake any longer. "Okay," you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. "But don’t let me oversleep."

Theo smiled, standing up and grabbing a nearby blanket to drape over you. "I won’t," he promised, his voice soft. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on you as you drifted back to sleep, looking far more peaceful than you had back in the library.

As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder one last time, a quiet smile on his face. "Goodnight, Y/N."

And with that, Theo settled into a nearby armchair, pulling out his own books—just in case you needed him when you woke up.

[bbkoolkatz]

𝖋𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖓!

comment to be added to the taglist for this story!

»»————> presenting;

pairing: barbarian!prince! Katsuki Bakugo x chief!daughter! reader.

synopsis: an arranged marriage to the prince of the barbarian clan to save your kingdom from being wiped out... cliche innit. stem's off the MHA fantasy au!

content warnings: FEMALE READER! strangers to lovers! slow burn! MHA fantasy AU! adult themes! arranged marriage! sexual content! rough n gruff Katsuki! mentions of blood in a lot of scenes! rituals! dub-con in some scenes! (for caution, because y'all can't understand each other) if u're religious, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!! angst! fluff! smut! WARNINGS APPLY TO ALL CHAPTERS!!! and are there to exercise caution!

updated on Wednesdays and Saturdays!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊↓; 2.5k+ words

»»————> LORE! [you can continue without reading all this]

the barbarian clan is known for conquering any village, kingdom and/or empire. they are brutes, usually settling anything by waging war and desecrating the land.

the barbarians speak in old Norse! conversing is difficult...

Katsuki is the only son and prince of the barbarian clan.

barbarians are stronger and bigger in size than regular humans.

your kingdom is ruled by your father—called cheif instead of king—who's a big softy and doesn't see the point in things like war... he prefers to talk things out and leave casualties to a zero. even if that means marrying off his only daughter...

you are the only daughter of your father which only makes you more precious and worthy of bearing the heir of both your kingdom and their clan.

tetsugami; a huge, semi intelligent crab. [there are few now as people have hunted them down to the double digits.]

crimson dragons; giant flying lizards. [they are very friendly despite their mean looking faces & their scales are extremely valuable.]

(more coming soon)

Old Norse Alphabet;

1. A/a- Pronunciation: ah as in "father."

2. B/b- Pronunciation: b as in "bed."

3. D/d- Pronunciation: d as in "dog."

4. Ð/ð (called eth)- Pronunciation: Soft th as in "this."

5. E/e- Pronunciation: eh as in "bed."

6. F/f- Pronunciation: f as in "fox." Between vowels, pronounced as v.

7. G/g- Pronunciation: g as in "go." After certain vowels, it softens to a y sound.

8. H/h- Pronunciation: h as in "house."

9. I/i- Pronunciation: ee as in "see."

10. J/j- Pronunciation: y as in "yes."

11. K/k- Pronunciation: k as in "king."

12. L/l- Pronunciation: l as in "lamp."

13. M/m- Pronunciation: m as in "man."

14. N/n- Pronunciation: n as in "name."

15. O/o- Pronunciation: aw as in "law."

16. P/p- Pronunciation: p as in "pen."

17. R/r- Pronunciation: Rolled r, like in Spanish or Italian.

18. S/s- Pronunciation: s as in "see."

19. T/t- Pronunciation: t as in "top."

20. U/u- Pronunciation: oo as in "moon."

21. V/v- Pronunciation: Often interchangeable with f, pronounced like English v.

22. Y/y- Pronunciation: Similar to ee but with rounded lips, like French u in lune.

23. Þ/þ (called thorn)- Pronunciation: Hard th as in "thorn."

24. Æ/æ- Pronunciation: ai as in "air."

25. Ö/ö- Pronunciation: ur as in "bird" (without the r).

M-LIST!

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3.5 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3.5

marriage. the best thing that could ever happen to a girl. all your life, you'd imagined being a bride; delicately decorating your hair with wild tulips, adorning your body in silver and white silk. spending the rest of your life with the person you love most.

now you're here, kneeling in front of a bonfire beside a complete stranger, cloaked in boar fur and animal skeletons, as the thick, warm blood of a lamb is poured over you. your marriage ceremony... filled with unfamiliar faces—including your now-husband—and traditions. drinking, dancing, and celebrating the union.

"nú ger hana konu þína!" a spiked-blonde woman, with an uncanny resemblance to the man kneeling beside you, announced, raising her hands in the air. you looked around confused as ever, as he leaned in, blood-stained fingers pulling you in by the back of your neck. your nose scrunched at the metallic taste of blood that his tongue shoved past your teeth. you push him away, gasping at the foreign feeling.

"hvat í helvíti, kona!?" he frowned, turning away from you, mumbling something under his breath, that you didn’t quite catch. not that you'd understand what he was carrying on about anyways...

the spiked-blonde woman—whom you guessed to be some sort of priestess or elder—shot you a sharp glare, her arms lowering slowly as she spoke in a hushed yet commanding tone. her words were incomprehensible to you, but the crowd seemed to murmur in agreement. your husband huffed, his frown deepening as he looked at you over his shoulder. you were kneeling there, with eyes pressing on you from all directions. the fire crackled in the silence, and the warmth of it did little to ease the chill settling in your chest.

two women approached you, their faces painted with intricate swirls of red and black. they tugged you to your feet without a word and began guiding you toward a tent decorated with bones, animal pelts, and dried herbs hanging from the entrance. inside, it was dimly lit by a few small lanterns. the air smelled of earth, smoke, and something sweet but unfamiliar.

they gestured for you to sit on a low stool and began pulling at your ceremonial garb, their movements quick but not unkind. your protests fell on deaf ears as they stripped you of the heavy fur cloak, wiping the blood from your skin with damp cloths. one of them muttered something, shaking her head as she scrubbed at your face. it was clear they didn't understand you either, but their disapproving looks were universal.

by the time they were finished, you were dressed in a simpler gown of rough-spun fabric, a far cry from the silks you were used to and had imagined for your wedding night. the older of the two handed you a wooden cup filled with a thick, bitter scented liquid. she pointed to it, then your mouth, her expression stern. reluctantly, you sipped it, grimacing at the taste. the woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, before they left you alone in the tent.

you sat there, staring at your hands, trying to gather your thoughts, but instead, they drift back to just a few mere hours ago...

-

"arranged?" you seethed in disbelief, looking at your defeated father, seated across from you at the council table, surrounded by old wrinkled elders.

"yes, daughter," he affirmed, voice devoid of emotion. "war against the barbarian clan would destroy everything we've built—"

"so they made a proposal, a very very rare one," one of the wart ridden elders interrupted-

"to make an arrangement," another continued-

"one that cannot be broken once forged," -

"a marriage,"-

"your sacrifice would save us all, child," the eldest croaked, concluding the proposal, "and as the chief's daughter, it is your duty to your people." one after the other, they all slowly turned their heads toward you, kneeling at the center of their godforsaken grey gazes.

your eyes flickered between them, their crinkled foreheads making you feel sick to your stomach as their words wrung your heartstrings. "marriage is sacred... it can only happen once. i don't know this person that you'd like me to be bound to for the rest of my life..." you snarled, stating the very obvious to those expired raisins.

"i'm afraid you misunderstood us, girl," the eldest fumed, weakly slamming his fist down, "it is arranged. you will wed the heir of the barbarian clan. that is why you have been summoned." firmly raising from his seat to intimidate you.

"that is my daughter you're speaking to, elder... as old as you are, mind your tongue." your father shifted his attention to you. "unfortunately, he is right, my dear. it's already been arranged, and you are to be wed at sundown."

dumbfounded... that's the look on your face. they we're giving you away to complete strangers... and at sundown!? despite all the colorful words that wanted to fly out your mouth, you grit your teeth and settled with a curt nod. you do have a duty to your people.

though it wasn't supposed to happen like this. it was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. you only get married once in your entire life after all.

-

the sound of heavy footsteps outside the tent snapped you out of your thoughts. the flap was pulled aside roughly, and your husband stepped in. his presence filled the small space, his broad shoulders and wild blonde hair almost brushing the top of the tent as his crimson eyes bore into you, a mixture of frustration and curiosity in his gaze.

he said something, his voice sharp and demanding, but you could only blink up at him in confusion. "i don't understand you," you said softly, shaking your head, as your voice trembled, despite your efforts to stay composed.

he huffed, combing a hand through his hair before pointing at you and then gesturing to the pallet of furs in the corner of the tent. his tone suggested he was giving you an order. when you didn't move, he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"leggjask. sofa." he barked, his frustration very much evident. when you still didn't respond, he crossed the space between you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to your feet. the roughness of his grip made you wince, but he didn't seem to notice as he guided you toward the furs. he pointed again, his expression leaving no room for argument.

you hesitated, thinking that maybe he wanted you to lie down, and slowly you lower yourself onto the makeshift bed. he stood over you for a moment, his intense gaze making your skin prickle, before he turned and left the tent without another word.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest. you were alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers who you couldn't even get to know, married to a man you didn't understand. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes with the overwhelming thoughts, but you blinked them away, refusing to let yourself break down on your wedding night.

the two women that cleaned you up earlier came back with him, and they began to remove his furs. you quickly averted your eyes, feeling a heat crawling up your neck, as the thought of them removing more than just his cloak tainted your mind.

"nei!" the old one scolded, "Þú verður að líta!" ... why are they babbling their jibberish when they know you don't understand them... "she said, 'you must look'," the younger translated, seeing the confused wrinkle in your brows. oh thank the gods! you smiled briefly at the familiar words before coming back to your senses.

"must i?" you blush, slowly turning back to them.

"yes," she smiled, cleansing your huge husband before your eyes, "if you do not, you give chance for another woman," she carefully rubbed the damp cloth over his bloody forehead while you let the thought sink in.

"leave," you softly ordered, "I'll take care of my husband," and without hesitation she whispered to the old lady, they dropped everything and left. ain't no way you were about to let your husband be seduced away on the night of your union...

gently, you wrung the cloth of most of its water and brought it back up to his face, wiping away the dust and dried blood that covered little scars freckling his almost perfect face.

his eyes burned through your skull with his staring, slowly scanning over the curves and dips of your body as you moved. your finger danced over his skin, tracing the scar on his right cheekbone, moving down to brush past his thin lips, wiping away the remnants of dirt on his well built, chest. he seemed to relax against your touch, closing his piercing crimson eyes, and hanging his head back to let you do your work.

so soft... and smooth... the texture of his skin isn't what you expected. who would've thought that such a rough looking barbarian had the skin of a baby? would explain all the scars though. like this one running down his neck to his collarbone, and these over here trailing down his firm biceps. you almost forgot you were supposed to be cleaning him up... you've finished the upper half and tugged at the leather holding his pants up, struggling to get them undone.

a low chuckle rumbled in his throat and your eyes shot up up to his smirking face, "what's so funny?" you quiver, frowning, as he shifted to stand, undoing the leather and dropping his pants to the dirt floor. "þar," he rasped, smug at your flustered state.

having those women clean him up was starting to seem more and more reasonable now... nevertheless, you dippied the cloth in the bowl of warm water and squeezed it, before wiping at his lower abdomen. you're so adorable between his legs like that, avoiding his eyes at all costs, while you wipe your way down and around, to his back. again, your hands moved of their own accord, twitching along the scupletd bumps on his back.

he grunted softly as your fingers worked over the knots in his shoulders, his broad frame shifting slightly under your touch. emboldened by the lack of protest, you continued, pressing harder into the muscles along his spine. his head dipped forward, and a low sigh escaped his lips, sending a wave of warmth through you. he brought a large hand up to yours on his shoulders and guided you in front of him.

both your eyes reflected in each other's for a long moment before you tried to break the silence, your words sounding like nonsensical ringing in his ears. he pulled you into his chest, just holding you there in an attempt to shush you, closing his eyes as his brows pinched over them.

"what's your name?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling of the distant bonfire. you paused, waiting for a response, but he didn't seem to react, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment. you tried again, a little louder this time, "what is your name?" you pointed at his chest.

he peeped through his eyelids, a sliver of vermilion meeting yours with a flicker of confusion. "nafnið mitt?" he asked, the foreign words rolling off his tongue. he tilted his head, as though trying to piece together what you were asking.

you frowned, gesturing to yourself. "i'm…" you said your name slowly, pointing at your chest, then gestured to him, raising your brows expectantly.

he blinked, mildly confused, before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Katsuki," he said, his voice low and rough. he tapped his chest, meeting your eyes again. "Kat-su-ki," he repeated, in the same manner you pronounced yours, ensuring you understood.

"Ka-tsu-ki…" you tested the name on your tongue, the unfamiliar syllables feeling oddly satisfying. his smirk widened slightly, pleased that you had caught on.

you nodded, offering a small smile in return, then gestured to yourself again. "my name is…" you repeated your name slowly once more, hoping to bridge the language barrier. his brows furrowed, lips moving as he attempted to mimic the unfamiliar sounds. his effort was clumsy but endearing, and you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you.

his frown deepened at your amusement. he murmured your name under his breath a few more times, his pronunciation improving with each attempt, until he finally said it with enough accuracy to make you grin.

"that's right!" you cheered softly, nodding in approval.

he held your gaze for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before his hand came up to gently brush against your cheek. his touch was surprisingly tender, his calloused fingers rough against your skin, but warm.

"sofa," he murmured again, his tone softer this time. he gestured toward the furs, his crimson eyes watching you closely.

you hesitated, unsure if he was commanding you or simply suggesting something. this is it. you thought, heart racing, as you slowly nodded, giving him a glance over your shoulder, before crawling onto the makeshift bed.

he stood for a moment, watching as you adjusted yourself among the furs, before he joined, sinking beside your head with his weight on his palms, caging you in under him. his hair fell beautifully over his narrow, glowing eyes, his nose brushing against yours as he lowered to your quivering lips, sucking them between his, tugging at your plump bottom lip with his teeth.

footsteps thumping right outside your tent made your heart race, thinking someone was coming, but he didn't stop, nor did he care, he hiked up the thin fabric of your dress, his large hand caressing your upper thigh as he shed the leather covering his— good god... you look down and your eyes widened. he smirked and hooked the strap of your dress with a finger to pull it down, and expose your heaving chest.

"Katsuki!" the blonde woman from earlier yelled, barging into the tent, "Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"

"För Guðs sakar, kona!" he yelled back, moving himself off you to sit. he looked up at her worried frown... "Ek kem..." you had no idea what was happening... eyes darting between them as their words flowed out of their mouth and their hands moved in frustration as they spoke.

katsuki looked back at you, a worried expression overtaking the lustful one he had mere seconds ago. he kneeled down kissed you, then threw on his cloak and left. the woman rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, gently smiling before she too headed out, leaving you alone, following behind your husband.

»»————> 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘; <————««

❈ "Nú ger hana konu þína." - now make her your wife

❈ "hvat í helvíti, kona!?" - what in the hell woman!?

❈ "þar" - there

❈ "nafnið mitt?" - my name?

❈ "leggjask" lie down

❈ "sofa" - sleep

❈ "Katsuki! Tak hendur þínar af henni, þú þarft at vera við ráðsafn. núna!"- katsuki! take your hands off her, you need to be at the council gathering. now!

❈ "För Guðs sakar, kona!" - for gods sake, woman!

❈ "Ek kem..." - I'm coming...

hope u enjoyed and look forward to more! don't forget to comment to be added to the taglist! mwah~♡

mlist!

[reaperexe]

Darling ♡

summary : when a run in with your ex makes things sour but at least your lover is here.

warnings : mentions of previous trauma.

Grocery shopping wasn't really a fun activity but grocery shopping with him was a whole new activity now. The unnecessary items he would throw into the cart acting like it was normal for you to have two giant family packs of cereal in your house before scolding him to put them away.

And he would put them away but just act like a kicked puppy on his way to do so. So when you steered the cart away from him and into the other aisle's to get away from the doe eyes and begging you didn't expect to run into someone.

That someone being your ex boyfriend. the ex boyfriend you swore to never interact with again. Your eyes widen and so does his when he sees you.

He says your name softly, you try not to cringe at the way your name rolls off his tongue and you don't even want to take his name.

"Been a while..." he says his tone already condescending like it had been all those years ago and your grip tightens around the cart.

Meanwhile your lover strolls through the aisles putting back the boxes of cereal and gathering more unnecessary items.

"You cut your hair?" he asks obviously ignoring your discomfort

"You know I've been meaning to reach out to you....." He says "wondered how you've been doing without me" He scoffs.

"I've been fine, better even" You say clenching your jaw.

"Really?" He says with a mocking look. "And here i thought you would come to your senses" He laughs.

The audacity of this man you think but your mouth dries when he slowly begins to approach you.

A strong voices pulls you out from your thought and stills the man in front of you "Darling?" Your lover calls coming up behind you as you breathe a sigh of relief.

He immediately recognizes the man in front of you from having to hold you all those years ago from all the nightmares and tears 'never again' he had sworn to himself.

He moves to stand defensively in front of you eyeing the guy, looking down on him.

"Hey man" Your ex says smirking "You are?.." He asks your lover trying to keep up his smugness despite your boyfriends intimidating gaze.

"Her boyfriend" He says his tone still dominating and he looks down on the guy.

"Oh yeah, we were just talking" he says "Right sweets?" He says peering over at you over your boyfriends shoulder.

You grip your lovers arm out of anger, not wanting to hear that voice or nickname.

"Well i think she's done talking man" Your boyfriend says firmly.

"Look mate-" Your ex begins stepping closer causing your boyfriend to cover you more and step towards him.

"I advise you leave" You speak up as your ex looks at you then back at your lover.

If looks could kill your ex would be dead by now, sensing the tense atmosphere your ex mutters a "Whatever, your loss" raising his hands in mock surrender and stepping back.

Your lover raises an arm but stills when he feels your hand on him, as much as you would love to see your ex get punched, a grocery store was not the place.

"Let it go baby" You say to your lover softly as your ex walks away.

"He better count his blessings" Your lover sighs relaxing and putting an arm around you.

You laugh at his words kissing his arm.

"You handled that so well baby I'm so proud of you" Your boyfriend says kissing the top of your head.

"You handled most of it" You say as he smiles, kissing you again

"Shall we check out?" He asks.

"Yes but only after you put back that giant bag of coffee beans, don't think i didn't notice" You say crossing your arms as he smiles sheepishly.

"But darlinggg" He whines but puts the bag back anyways as you smile.

[love44lew]

just like him . max verstappen

彡driver max verstappen

彡genre drunk!max verstappen x gn!reader, angst to fluff

彡summary max comes home drunk after a long night of partying and celebrating another wdc

၊၊||၊ this story has been haunting me for weeks now and im always busy with school or just dont have motivation to write but im glad to finally get the last of it on this sunday evening. enjoy and ty for reading!! ၊၊||၊

彡warnings alcohol, mentions of child abuse

———————————🦈———————————

max stumbles into the door after too damn long trying to get that stupid lock. why was the damn door locked anyway? he roughly plops down on the floor, kicking his shoes off and tossing them to the side without any second thought about them. he’s woozy and his head feels like its full of water and he can barely stand up straight—it was a long night of drinking and celebrating securing the drivers championship.

you would’ve went, but you weren’t feeling too well and even though max had insisted to stay home with you, you refused to let him miss out on celebrating such an achievement; hesitantly he went.

after a long 3 hours of drinking, dancing, partying him and his father had a long talk. a deep one, about his childhood. once again he’d taken credit for max’s achievements, once again telling max he should be grateful for the years of ‘tough parenting’. still the same stupid ass excuse he had to brag about how beating your kids made them world champions, what a way to ruin a night.

max stumbled into the kitchen, the house being left dimly lit since you’d expected him to come home late.

his head—the pounding became unbearable. ever since that talk with him the effects of the alcohol we’re hitting him harder then they should’ve for the amount he drank. he wasn’t drugged, was he? maybe his fathers words is what drugged him—but instead of sending him into a high, they sent him into a deep dysphoria.

he bent over, resting his temple on the cold marble of the island—the sensation easing his dizziness.

water, he needs water. but he couldn’t move from the position he was now.

“max..?” you called from up the stairs.

he just groaned in response

you smiled to yourself as you scurried down the stairs, knowing how he gets when he’s drunk. you were feeling much better than you were before, after throwing up and taking a nap, of course. “maxie,” the nickname rolled sweetly off your tongue, your tone much more comforting and soft. you turned the corner, spotting his tall figure hunched over the countertop his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

“hey, lets get you upstairs, hm?” you rubbed circles on his back as you picked up his arm and swung it over your shoulders. he’s heavy to say the least, so it wasn’t easy getting him up.

“y/n” max mumbled, stopping you at the base of the steps and using your shoulders to help him sit on them.

“yes max”

in your head, you celebrated being able to rest your shoulders for a couple minutes before helping him upstairs

“can you just be honest with me for one second here” his voice was hoarse and low, he could barely make eye contact with you. you can already understand this was a bad trip.

“always, love” your brows furrowed, his tone rising concern within you. there was a pause before he cleared his throat and his ocean blue orbs, that now appeared an almost dark grey in this lighting.

“do you think i’ll turn out like him” he almost whispered, just enough so you can hear him semi-clearly. the words stabbed you in the chest, where could he be getting these thoughts from. and whose ‘him’?

“him..?” you repeated, tilting your head to the side “max what are you talking about?”

“my dad” his eyes finally locked with yours “do you think im gonna turn out like him? what if the day comes where i would try to hurt you, if its by words or trying to put my hands on you? i never want to do that, i dont want that—thats not love. what we have, i feel this is love, but what if it wont be anymore, because of me?..” his eyes became sad, desperate and ashamed with himself, disappointed in himself for something he’s never done but the thought that he could possibly even try to hurt you makes him want to just curl up in a ball and cry.

“max-“ you reached a comforting hand out to him, just for him to reject it.

“no— i dont want to hurt you. you should go and find another guy who wouldn’t ever do that to you. im just like my fuckin dad, i even see his face in the mirror just to remind me of the doom im destined to” he hunches over, buring his face in his hands.

at this point you didnt even know what to say. you obviously are aware of the complex relationship max has with his father but he never never voiced these thoughts to you before, especially when hes drunk. hes all silly and quiet and sleepy usually, something must’ve happened to make him like this. everyone has their fears of inheriting their parents bad characteristics, max has told you about stuff he tries to do differently than him, but you never imagined it being this bad.

max is such a kind soul, he couldn’t even kill a spider. he has no reason to rage if he’s already taking all his frustrations out on track. outside the car he’s a calm dude, you’ve never heard him yell or be nasty to his engineers when he wasn’t on track. of course he has his occasional attitude towards the authority but never further than that. every time he acted out, hes worked hard to fix whatever caused him to do so.

the best thing you could do is just wait for him to finish talking so you could voice your thoughts, which you did so. you sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder until he calmed town and flushed out all the words he had pent up in his brain. the two of you sat as his sobs filled the silence between you. saying something right away didnt feel like the right move anyway.

“you dont have to be him. youre not gonna be him because youre already better than him. max, youre still in your 20s and look all that you’ve accomplished—stuff he couldn’t dream to do in his entire life. you dont have a reason to end up like him because youre not a fuckin failure.” it might have been a little too much to talk so harshly about his dad, because its his dad. but whatever he did or said to him before he arrived home has caused the love of your life hysterical and paranoid for the future, so right now, he didn’t deserve the babying he receives from everyone around him and max. his sobs had calmed down at this point, the pause was enough for you to continue.

“and about me— i dont want anyone else. of course we’ll have our disagreements, we’ll piss each other off eventually. we’ll exchange words we dont mean and then we’ll immediately regret it after, thats just how things are. but id rather do that with you than another person because i’ll only ever want you. we’re in this together baby—and as long as i have you, theres always something to fight for because you’re worth fighting for. i made that decision the day i fell in love with you, and i never looked back since.” your heart, chest, and throat burned with every word that left your mouth. like confessing your love wasn’t hard enough the first time, here you are pouring it all out again. you keep your heart so sacred, all the world can fight for it and you’d still be stuck on that person you gave it all to. that person being max.

“i can only tell you how i feel, i cant convince you to think otherwise. but remember, i gave YOU my everything because thats the only thing i have to offer. i chose you because i see something in you that nobody else saw before, or sometimes dont even see now—“ not even your own father

“and now its my job to help you see those things within yourself.” your soft hands cupped his face so the two of you could fix on one another once again.

“just think about that”

his saddened eyes widened, like you had planted something in his mind. he melted into your touch, his eyes closing and his cheeks growing a deeper rose than before.

“i love you so much, i dont deserve you” he kissed your hands while mumbling his love for you.

“i love you too, but i disagree” you leaned in closer and kissed the bridge of his nose. he just sighed softly, he didnt feel like staring another debate on who loves who more. maybe in the morning.

max wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer and resting his head on your chest. you wrapped your arms around him, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. the two of you sat in silence, enveloping in one anothers warmth. his home was right here, with you.

“im thirsty” max mumbles, breaking the silence between you two. you chuckled silently. “okay baby” you helped him stand up and up the stairs, leading him to your room. max threw himself onto the bed. you turned around to fetch some water but a tired hand tugged your wrist.

“dont go” he nuzzled into your palm, his lips brushing over your fingers. “im not going anywhere honey, im just getting water for you” max whined in protest, his face was flushed into your hand like it was his only source of warmth— tingles fluttered your heart at the sight.

“you need water, do you want to be hungover tomorrow?” you leaned on your hip and narrowed your eyes curiously.

“no i need you, now come here im cold” he pouts, tugging your hand harder causing you to fall onto the bed with a cushioned thud. before you could even react, a needy, pouty max had already latched his body onto yours tightly, nuzzling into your shoulder and allowing the scent of his lover consume his senses.

you sighed softly, the messiness of his hair and the way his arms hug your body made you not want to move. your body relaxed in his arms as max’s soft snores muffled into the cloth of your (his) sweater. you raked your fingers through his soft blonde locks until you too eventually fell into your own sleep. the two of you tangled in each other, sleeping peacefully knowing that you both will always have a shoulder to lean on.

[lady-ashfade]

Matching flames

Percy Jackson x Soulmate!Reader

-£ Ask: Percy x reader who's his soul mate and he only finds out when she almost dies (could be trying to save him or just because life as a demigod is hard) @poemfreak306

-£ words: 2k

-£ Warnings: Reader being injured, soulmate au, blood & cuts, reader almost dying, angsty, comfort at the end, cursing?? (You can also imagine any Percy you want in this)

Could you count all the stars in the sky?

It was almost peaceful looking up at the stars, mind going blank and your body numb. they looked so beautiful and you realize you’ve never quite looked closely at them. burning rocks floating in space that somehow was the cause of so many poems and love stories. if only you had noticed it sooner.

Blood leaked out of your side and the hand you placed over it started to give up trying to put pressure on the wound. The monster who chased you for miles had finally got to you after being so close to camp, to being safe and sound, when it’s claws finally got ahold of you. Its sharp nails dragged into your skin ripping your clothes and stained them with the blood immediately pouring out. thankfully you had one stroke of luck when your dagger pierced its heart and it was quick to fall.

Not much time has passed since then, however it was enough time for you to loss too much blood.

Had the stars always been that pretty? Just a thought as your eyes blur and the only thing left to feel was the thoughts in your head. The sweet smile of your moral parent’s smile, how it felt to laugh with friends and how some part of you still felt on fire. The shore of the camp’s lake appeared in your mind, and sand beneath your feet as you look at someone’s figure. The smile on their face was so familiar…Maybe it was death being nice to you.

you tried to keep your eyes open but they were just too heavy. maybe you could just rest for a few minutes. there was a sense of warmth that took over your body once more as your eyes fade closed.

“He’s coming, not long little one.”

the campfire wasn’t his focus at the moment but he found himself staring into it as his thoughts ran wild. he had just back to camp but this year was so much different. there was so much on his mind that he just couldn’t focus on one thing. about his mother, his father and how he still couldn’t believe he was a Demi god. even after a long time it just wasn’t normal to him.

then a hiss leaves his lips as he clings to his side in pain. it was stinging and felt on fire. he knew how being wounded felt like all to well but nothing happened, he was just sitting. then his finger felt funny like pins and needles stabbed him all at once. from his left annabeth looks at him worried and looking of his confused face.

“What’s wrong?” But the boy just stared at himself as the pain faded away but his hand became numb and weird. He spun it around a few times to look over it, checking for anything causing it but found nothing. not even a bug.

it was your smile that popped in his head. the warm shoulder he always laid on, he could hear the laugh you had ringing in his ears. why? his name was called from your soft lips but it wasn’t like normal, he saw your lips with blood from the corner. reaching out to him like he was your only hope.

“Y/n.” He stood up immediately at the image in his head. looking around for you in the crowd of campers he didn’t find you with your siblings or around your friends. annebeth looked at him worried and stood up with him, “what is it?”

he knew those trees. he’s seen then a million times. percy knew the grass, but this was different from actually knowing where you were. something was tugging his body and he didn’t need ask where you were. he knew.

his feet moved on their own and he practically ran where they took him and only thought of you. Annebeth stayed behind and told Mr.d that something might be wrong. Percy felt off and not the normal kind he always did. his body felt weaker like it was losing its life. his chest felt off and his heart filled with sorrow.

so when he found you laying in a pool of your own blood he was quick to fall next to you. “y/n” he called out. he checked for a pulse but couldn’t do it right so he leaned next to your nose and listened for your breathing and thankfully he felt some. his heart was pounding when he saw the cuts on your body making his mind wonder to what could have done it. the camp was just a few feet away and you could have been safe.

“Don’t die,” he begged and places his arm under your head, “this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” his words didn’t make sense to him when he spoke. how was it supposed to be? what was he talking about.

the new light in the sky made him look up to a shooting star shoot cross the sky. it was truly beautiful. something around his finger pulled again and he felt the small feeling of string so when he looked down it was red and tied around him. following the line he found it connected to you. The string of fate.

his string was tied to yours. you were his soulmate.

“no, no” he wrapped another arm under your legs and left you up slightly. he was staring at your face with tears pooling themselves in his eyes. for the first time he was finally seeing you as what you were. his. but how could the gods be so cruel to take you way from him. Percy wouldn’t let that happen. he’d fight hades himself for you back.

“just stay with me.” there he was carrying you passed the camp line to get you to the infirmary. even in the near death you looked stunning as you away did. he was just to stupid to see it before. 

when they took you away from him he was quiet and stood outside the door and refused to leave. percy even refused to leave the room at first but was yelled at and pushed out, so he had no choice but to leave your side. how could he just stay outside when he could lose the one person that was supposedly to stay with him, to love him, and who was supposed to be with him always? how could he just sit still when he was going to lose it all?

his friends came to sit with him and offered him some kind words and reassurance but not much helped. he just sat down on a chair with his legs bouncing and hands fiddling with themselves as all he could think is about you. about the cuts on your skin and all the blood.

luckily they had gotten you somewhat healed, making you stable and fine. just had to wait for your body to heal.

“Percy,” annabeth poked his shoulder as he stared at the floor. they had left and he could go in now but he didn’t notice. “you can go in now.” Percy turn quickly to her and then at the door wide open now. so he sprinted up and inside to find you laying on the bed peacefully sleeping. annabeth didn’t follow him in because he needed a moment alone. she’d let him have his moment

Percy sat beside your bed the whole time you slept. he’d fed you. he’d brushed your hair out of your face and watched you closely as if someone was out to get you. his hand was always ready to pull out riptide in case but nothing dangerous ever came. his hand stayed in yours while he whispered for you to wake up and how much he was sorry.

“Should have realized it before,” he whispered as he leaned near you. “gosh, I’m such a idiot.” he sighed to himself and ran his eyes over you.

His hands rubbed your own, “Just wake up and I’ll make up for it. For all the time we lost, just let me love you.” His lips pressed to your head as you continued to sleep unknowing to his words but your body healing by having him close.

two days of not getting much sleep himself you’d waken up. his head resting next to your leg as he sat in a chair with his hand on yours, his hair messy. you didn’t remember coming to the infirmary or how you got here. and not percy holding your hand. but you couldn’t let go off it because it was to comfortable like it was made to fit in yours.

when you moved your body since it felt so stiff from probably not moving in days you’d accidentally woke him up. you felt bad as he shot up quickly and looked around panicked with his hand going to his side, probably reaching for riptide. once his eyes found yours it made your heart sink into your lower stomach. under his eyes were black circles and his eyes looked so painful that it broke you, like he’d been crying. he was paler then normal.

A sad smile broke onto his face, he was relieved to see you awake. He let out a small chuckle as his eyes almost filled with tears when he jumped forward you take your head into his chest as a small hug. “Welcome back,” you froze at his hug but let him have his moment. of course you smiled and wrapped your arms around him too. It was nice.

“Percy, how long was I out…How did I get here?” Pulling himself back with a red tint in his chest he sat back down.

“I found you outside the barrier. Y/n, I thought you were dead, you were barely breathing.” his voice broke. “but I got you here and now you’re awake. not dead,” there was that damn smiling again that pained you, like he was convincing his demons something.

humming and nodding your head along you look at your side to see it healed, lifting up your shirt just a little and saw a scar on your skin. it made you frown knowing how big it would be. “If it means anything, I think you’d look badass.” you put your shirt back down and look at him.

he was trying to make you feel better. “Percy when I was- When I closed my eyes I heard something and my body, well it felt different. Do you know anything about that?” his heart skipped a beat and his eyes slightly going wide.

was it obvious how fluster he was? was his skin as red as a tomato, did he look like a fool? “I have to tell you something.” Percy played with his own hands again and looked away for a second. you swing your legs to the side of the bed to stretch.

“Go ahead.”

You watched him closely and you could see he was working himself up to speak. how his body bounced and twitched, he was turning redder by the second. he was cute. and you yourself found your own cheeks turning hot when you looked at him.

“I saw you at the campfire in my mind. I could feel the pain you felt, or somewhat, like I was dying. my body was pulling me to you and I knew exactly where to find you without having to look.” As he explained you listened carefully and tilted your head to the side.

“then I saw it. The red string of fate tied to my finger. I saw a shooting star, then I saw your string tied to my. And for the first time I saw you for the first time, as my soulmate.”

“Oh.” Damnit. That was bad.

Percy nodded and now started to shut down as he watched you, your brain moving to figure out what to say. he just ruined everything. you wished to not be his soulmate, that was it. he didn’t blame you. Percy brought danger whereever he went.

But that wasn’t it. you had been thinking something else. everything made sense to you now. why you looked at him when no one else was looking. why he made you feel high in the clouds when he was near. and how he just fit so well in your life without trying. “Percy,” you call out to him again and move closer and scoot to the end of the bed with your feet hitting the floor.

you should have known from his eyes. as they look at you now it just hit you like bricks, how they were so powerful. as you take his cheek in your hands his breath hitches and holds in his chest. “i’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

he pulled you close to him and held you so tight in how arms as you giggled at how happy he seemed. his laugh made your stomach fill with butterflies. “I’ll make you happy.” And that you had no doubt about. you pulled back from his grasp and looked at his lips. you needed to kiss him. and Percy knew what you were thinking and wanted the same.

his face moved forward as his kiss captured yours in a soft but passive kiss, his hands moving to wrap themselves around your body as yours wrapped around his neck. it was nice but didn’t end short. after all you both waited for a long time to feel the love of a soulmate and you didn’t know that you craved it this badly.

The stars never lied when it comes to love. And now you knew that he was the burning fire within you.

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 (𝐇𝐒𝐑 𝐱 𝐘𝐍)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 696

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝙎𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙧 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩𝙮, 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙡𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙮𝙣'𝙨 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙨𝙩 ^^

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎

Arguments with him are nothing less than common, with his genius complex and snappy attitude, you both end up initiating an argument about something neither of you truly care for, and of course, you're the one who usually ends up apologising, even when he was in the wrong

This being said, one time, there was one time, he went too far

“God! I truly wonder how you manage to exist and function with that sad excuse of a brain!” veritas snapped, you were use to him saying stuff like that, and you knew he never truly meant them, but it was getting so repetitive you had enough

You didn't even bother responding, you simply slammed the door and headed outside for a break, and as for veritas, he probably cooled himself off with a relaxing bath

It was only when he was done destressing, when he realised the horrible way he spoke to his dearest partner

Upon your arrival, he initially tried to give you space, he stayed in his library reading, as you did your own thing, but the guilt stabbing through his chest slowly became too intense for him, and he quickly rushed to where you were

“Dearest,” he mumbled, you didn't give him an answer, he didn't deserve it

He huffed at your comment and left house, which left you stunned initially, until he returning home with a bag full of your favourite foods, as well as flowers and a plush of your favourite animal

It was so clique, but he didn't know much about this topic, he was always superior, he never had a need to apologise to others, but he wanted to apologise to you, out of respect for you

You sighed and nodded “its fine, veritas” he looked away, scoffing as his cheeks bloomed a faded pink 

“Good. that is good.” he whispered, you had to know dr ratio pretty well to sense the relief in his tone

“I must say, this is a very thoughtful way of apologising, 5 points” you teased, he rolled his eyes, fighting back the small smile crawling up his face

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

He is prideful, very prideful, and when he has an opinion, he leaves no room for others input or objectively wrong opinions, which makes it almost impossible for him to apologise

Arguments with him feel like speaking to a wall, on very rare occasions will he say anything, almost making it seem like this situation was…meaningless to him, like your feelings were meaningless to him

This one day made you snap, and you actually began to sob quietly while you were arguing

This made him glance back at you, a look of surprise and…dread on his face

“My angel…” he mumbled, but you rushed out before he could say another word, leaving him alone with his racing thoughts

Despite being a cold, rational and controlling serafin, he is a very paranoid individual, and his mind began to flood with possibilities of you leaving him behind to find someone better, or thoughts of you growing to hate him and seeing him as the control freak others label him as.

Because of this, he let you have your space, and spent an hour or two asking his dear sister robin for advice, she was a lot more well versed in tending to people's feelings and apologising for making someone hurt

Once robin was done lecturing his brother, sunday returned to the house, finding you buried under a layer of cushions and blankets

“Angel…i…” he took a deep breath and looked at you with those…piercing yellow eyes

“The way…that i disregarded your feelings…it..it was unacceptable and cruel” you slightly lifted the blanket on your face, staring at him, still slightly upset

“I…deeply apologise, you don't deserve such cruelty from a man who dares call himself your lover”

You sighed, a sad yet relieved smile on your face “you apologising is a strange occurrence, so i know you mean it”

He brought you to his arms, his wings fluffing up due to how happy he was to have finally worked up the courage to apologize and make you smile

Robin would indeed be proud

[blu3n]

You felt tired, exhausted, because that kept happening. Jason never showed his emotions no matter how much you said you loved him, that you were there for him, that you would understand him, that you tried hard for that at least.

It wasn't that simple for Jason, not for someone like him who felt like he didn't deserve that feeling (love). Seeing families smiling, houses being perfect. He couldn't believe that something so magical and pure could be his.

You were so perfect, so perfect that he didn't think he deserved you. He would catch himself in the middle of the night looking at the goat discreetly seeing his wonderful woman lying in bed in the middle of the night. "Oh God...how I love her..." he would say so quietly that not even he could hear.

But when you were here, looking at him saying how hurt you were because he didn't show you how he felt... he felt panic, his heart was beating desperately. How could his... his... his beloved leave him? He couldn't. He couldn't.

"Look... I'm sorry but I-" You tried to continue but what you heard made you stop... were those? sobs?, looking at Jason you saw him crying. Kneeling at his feet. That six-foot-tall man was crying at his feet. He looked so broken that his chest immediately twisted.

"Please choose me. Nobody ever chooses me. Please.." he said as he sobbed, his chest felt crushed so hard that he didn't know how to describe it, knowing that his beloved, the love of his life was leaving him was like losing his breath.

"Please, please, I...I love you, I know I'm hard to deal with, I have my crises, I'm terrible at showing affection, but please, stay, please love me. I would hate to lose you."

You held him in your arms, so tightly that he felt safe that night. You felt that this time he would know that someone would be there with him. Forever.

😭- oh my god I just cried over this.

I will be doing the asks, yes, I will, but I wanted to do this so much

@blu3n - my authorship

[luckybunny001]

“It only took a moment…”

(Mouthwashing Daisuke x Mechanic! Reader)

The crew had been stranded in space for what felt like an eternity—food supplies dwindling, hope fading.

Curly, their captain, lay immobile in the medical bay, a constant reminder of their dire circumstances.

Jimmy, the co-captain, ruled with an iron fist, belittling everyone and taking advantage of Curly’s condition.

Anya, the ship’s nurse, fluttered nervously around them, her eyes darting whenever Jimmy came near.

Swansea, the tough-as-nails mechanic, had taken Daisuke under his wing but seemed to grow increasingly frustrated with him.

“Just pull yourself together, Daisuke,” he would say, his gruff voice echoing in Daisuke’s mind.

But now, sitting on the floor, Daisuke felt anything but together. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the swirling thoughts that accompanied his tipsy state.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching.

Panic gripped him, and he quickly wiped at his eyes, hoping to hide the evidence of his inebriation. But as he opened his eyes,

Reader appeared in the dim light, her silhouette framed by the flickering overhead. She looked down at him, concern etching her features.

“Daisuke?” she said softly, kneeling beside him. “What’s wrong? You look… off.”

He forced a smile, trying to mask his feelings. “I’m fine! Just… taking a little break, you know?” His voice was unsteady, betraying the bravado he was trying to project.

Reader frowned, her brow creasing with worry. “You don’t look fine. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He felt the walls closing in around him, the weight of the ship’s uncertainty pressing down on his chest. “Really, I’m—” But before he could finish, the dam broke. Tears, pooling at the corner of his eyes as he quickly squeezed them shut to prevent them to fall but to no avail as he felt the sting grow more as the tears escaped his eyes.

Reader’s expression shifted from concern to immediate empathy. She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just breathe.”

Daisuke buried his face in her shoulder, the warmth of her body grounding him as he let the tears flow freely. He felt embarrassed and vulnerable, but there was something about Reader’s presence that made it feel safe to let it all out.

The warmth of her concern was like a beacon in the darkness that surrounded him, and suddenly, the weight of everything crashed down. “I… I’m sorry, Reader,” he choked out, his voice cracking. “I just… I feel like such a loser. I can’t do anything right.”

“Daisuke, you’re not a loser,” Reader said firmly, rubbing his back in soothing circles. “You’re one of the most optimistic people I know. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. We’re all struggling right now.”

“I thought I could handle it,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I thought I could be helpful, but all I’ve done is mess things up. I can’t even—” He choked on his words, the shame washing over him like a tidal wave. “I drank mouthwash! I can’t even do that right.”

Reader pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, her gaze steady and unyielding. “Listen to me. You’re not defined by this moment. None of us are. We’re in a tough spot, and it’s okay to not be okay. You’re trying, and that counts for something. You bring light to this ship, Daisuke. You really do.”

He sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “But Curly… and Jimmy… and Swansea… they all think I’m just a burden.”

“Curly is in a bad place, and Jimmy… well, he’s just Jimmy,” she said, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and sympathy. “And Swansea? He’s tough because he cares. He sees potential in you, but it’s hard for him to show it right now. You’re not a burden. You’re part of this crew, just like the rest of us.”

The mention of Curly brought a fresh wave of pain to Daisuke’s heart. The captain had been a beacon of kindness, now reduced to a shadow of his former self. “I just wish things were different,” he murmured as Daisuke took a shaky breath, absorbing her words. “But what if we don’t make it? What if we run out of food and… and…”

Reader’s eyes softened, and she cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze. “We will make it.” Reader said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “But crying won’t help. We need to be strong for each other, especially now.”

Daisuke leaned against her, the warmth of her body grounding him in a way he desperately needed. “How do you stay so strong?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s not easy,” she admitted. “But I remember why I’m here. I think about the people I care about — like you, Daisuke. You make it worth it. And I know you can be strong too.”

He swallowed hard, her words wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. “I want to be strong. For you. For the crew.”

“Then let’s do it together,” she said, her eyes shining with determination. “We’ll figure this out. One day at a time.”

As the tension began to ease, Daisuke felt the crushing weight of despair lift, if only slightly. “Thanks, Reader. You always know what to say.”

“Just don’t bottle it up next time, okay?” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “You can always talk to me. I’m here for you.”

Daisuke nodded, a sense of relief washing over him. “I will. I promise.”

Before he could think twice, he leaned in and hugged her tightly, grateful for her support. She hesitated, then wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

In that moment, surrounded by the uncertainty of space and the weight of their situation, Daisuke felt a sense of belonging that had eluded him for so long.

Maybe it was with her… he didn’t know.

They were lost, yes, but together, they could navigate the abyss.

As the ship drifted silently through the cosmos, two hearts found solace in each other. And for the first time in a long while, Daisuke believed that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a way forward.

Unfortunately… that wasn’t possible for one of them at least….

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Forgive Me | John Price x Reader

Summary: After a rough day, Price gets home and accidentally raises his voice at you, leading to plenty of apologies, and making up for his mistake.

Word Count: ~ 1.2k

Warnings: price yelling at reader :( angst to fluff to a lil bit of smut, fingering, cuddling, cute snuggly kisses, nothing too bad

Minors, do not interact!

A/N: this was such a cute request from anon, I love price so much…like he’s such a cutiepie y’all don’t even get it, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

You and your husband didn’t have many arguments.

Sure, the occasional little squabble where you’d only last maybe an hour before breaking and both apologizing to each other, acknowledging your wrongs.

The emotional maturity that both of you shared was something John Price appreciated most about your relationship.

But tonight was different.

He couldn’t even remember what had started the argument.

He’d already been wound up, having driven hours from the base to home after a long day of dealing with annoying recruits while his patience ran thin with their antics and horseplay. It had been a bit entertaining the first few times, but by the 40th time, it was plain annoying.

But they didn’t seem to understand that.

So he’d spent his day yelling at them till his voice was hoarse, some refusing to stop and just continuing what they’d been doing if they were ballsy enough.

And he supposed that instead of reverting into the normal John Price, the Price that was softer and gentler with you, he hadn’t seen the difference between you and those recruits in the moment.

One sarcastic remark, and you were both in the living room, Price pacing around leaving a trail on the floor while ranting in a loud, brusque voice all too similar to a yell. He got so caught up in himself, in his angry tirade of frustration with his day and the current situation, that he hadn’t noticed how he was asking until you muttered a meek little,

“John, you’re scaring me.”

It had floored him completely. Nearly all thoughts shut down at that one little sentence as he stopped pacing, standing stiller than a statue, eyes now observing your red-rimmed eyes brimmed with tears, or the quiet sniffles you were making, trying to hide them as well. He could tell.

Guilt punched him in the gut harder than any enemy had ever done.

He’d never grown up in a bad family, per se. It was just traditional. His father ranted while his mother kept her mouth shut, listening patiently and serving his every need. He could still remember how angry his father had been at his older sister when she’d snuck out with a boy. How his father had screamed at her in the kitchen while she’d sobbed, his mother doing nothing but sitting silently at the table, like a ghost.

He’d been terrified at the time. Promised himself and his future spouse that he would never treat a woman, his woman, that way.

And here he was. Doing the same thing.

“Love,”

He cooed apologetically, eyes crinkling in the corners from worry, brows furrowing as he held both his hands out towards you, watching as your bottom lip wobbled a bit when you took a little step back.

You were afraid.

Of him.

He’d be an idiot to think you wouldn’t have a bit of fear after what he’d done, screaming at you, a small woman, being the large man he was. Of course, you’d be afraid.

“I’m sorry, bird, please.”

He tried again, tone taking on a hint more desperation as he offered you at least a hand. Tears fell freely in streams down your face now, clumping in your lashes and catching in the corners of your lips.

Only when the first sob tore through your body, did you finally relent and fold into his warm, strong arms. His familiar musk, a mix of whiskey, barbecue, and a campfire, enveloped your senses as you buried your head in his shoulder. His hand stroked up and down your back soothingly, large palm gently massaging the tension out unknowingly, while his other hand ran through your hair.

“I know, I was being a right ass, wasn’ I?”

He murmured, the hand in your hair moving to your knees as he gently bent them while picking you up bridal style, your weight barely even noticeable to him as his feet padded against the floor, the door to your bedroom creaking open and promptly shutting behind him before he sat on the edge of the bed with you. The sobs shaking your already-trembling body slowly subsided, leaving you feeling emptier than before.

Now sniffling, tears hardly dried, you replied.

“Yeah, you were.”

His calloused thumb wiped whatever wetness remained on your face away. Your lips were still in a pout, one he tried to erase by gently pressing his chapped lips against yours, pulling away, his eyes gazing deep into yours.

“Really, I’m sorry. Didn’t intend to get carried away.”

He murmured, and you sniffled again before replying.

“It’s fine, I guess.”

He let out a dissatisfied hum, pulling the blankets out from underneath both of your bodies to gently cover you. He was already practically a human furnace, not needing much to warm him.

“It’s not fine, shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

His hands curled around your waist once again, holding you just a bit closer, as if wanting to keep you close. To keep you safe.

You raised a brow, relaxing into the cuddles nicely as you melted into his body, hardly noticing the way his thumbs were rubbing little circles into your hips.

“Yeah? What’re you gonna do to make it up to me, then?”

You teased, voice a bit drowsy already. He let out a small hum of thought, one warm hand slipping down your thigh, slowly making its way in between and rubbing those little circles onto your inner thigh, now.

“I’ve got an idea.”

He mumbled, his hand temporarily returning to him as he licked the pad of his thumb, leaving a bit of spit on it before returning to your inner thigh, the same hand pushing both your shorts and underwear to the side as his thumb slowly grazed through your folds, that bit of spit acting as a lubricant.

A low purr of delight from you, one that only grew more vocal as his thumb began lazy circles around your clit, not teasing or holding back, just slowly working you up until your legs were trembling, hips jerking slightly and little gasps escaping your lips.

“There you go, almost there,”

He cooed as you let a little whimper slip from between your lips, that tight coil in your stomach building and building before your orgasm washed over you like a cool breeze in the summer heat.

“Good girl…”

He murmured softly as his hand slipped out of your pants, adjusting them back into place before going back to holding your body against his, helping you back to reality from whatever clouds your sleepy mind was floating in.

“Mm…John?”

You mumbled against his shoulder, and one hand went back to stroking your hair.

“Yes, pretty?”

He questioned, ignoring the breathy little incoherent noises you kept letting out amidst words.

“I forgive you, really this time.”

An airy chuckle from your drowsy husband as he held you a little bit closer, tucking the blanket in over you as he smiled against your skin, giving your forehead a little peck before he closed his eyes, mumbling one last thing, mainly to himself, before sleep claimed him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you, love.”