#it’s just sort of a passing glance every time i encounter them by chance

[goldensunset]

WAAAAOOOOOHHHH SHINY SALANDIT ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[emotionally-imbruised]

Wandering Souls

A/N: Hello lovelies! Long time no see, hope you are all doing well. I know I kinda fell off the face of the earth HOWEVER for spooky season this year I decided to make a small comeback of sorts by rewriting one of my old fics on here. The one I went with was Wandering Souls, an old vampire fic that was actually painful for me to reread all these years later lmaooo BUT here she is rewritten with an orignal fmc and, in my opinion, soooo much better than before. I hope you enjoy and would love to hear your thoughts!

Word Count: 4.7k

The cool Autumn air nipped at Josie’s skin, making her shrug more into the bulky wool scarf she wore while making her way home for the evening.

Despite her resentment toward the time of year, Josie couldn’t deny that she loved the beauty October displayed around New York City. The shift into colder weather was always more tolerable with the warm decorations and colours of Fall before the inevitable miserableness Winter brought along soon after.

Too bad, for Josie, the wonders of October were ruined by the dreadful celebration everyone else seemingly looked forward to at the end of the month.

It was Halloween. But, despite the festive decorations and people rushing around to get last-minute candy or items for a costume, Josie tried to ignore it.

October 31st marked yet another full circle the earth made around the sun, indicating another year passed since Josie’s world was flipped upside down… over 200 years ago.

She continued through the bustling streets of New York, dodging other pedestrians and walking around the slow movers she didn’t have the patience to be stuck behind. They wreaked of blood. Every one of them. It was borderline overbearing as Josie was forcibly reminded that it’d been weeks since she last properly fed. Good thing she’d had over two centuries of practice of not giving into that bloodlust and ripping into a stranger's neck right then and there. Instead, she cut away from the crowded sidewalk and turned down an empty alleyway she knew as a shortcut back to her apartment.

To a typical human woman, walking alone down a dimly lit path shortly after nightfall had taken over for the evening screamed danger. To Josie, it was nothing. After all, she was the bloodthirsty predator in this situation.

The sound of her heeled boots meeting the pavement echoed with each step, becoming louder as she walked further into the alley. She was no more than 10 minutes from being home, however, a shift in her surroundings made Josie be on high alert.

A cool breeze blew past her, whipping her hair around while any debris littering the alley remained undisturbed. Then the air went cold. Josie wrapped her arms around her torso, shivering at the sudden temperature change, but kept her cool while she ignored the feeling of being watched. The eeriness remained as she glanced over her shoulder in search of the presence she so greatly felt. Whatever was following her wasn’t human, she would’ve picked up on their scent if they were and could tell whatever lurked was still near despite not being visible.

Josie could identify most creatures by their scent, but this one was masking theirs, leading her to believe they knew what she was or it was something she’d never encountered in her long lifetime. New York City was full of the supernatural. Vampires, Witches and Werewolves just scratched the surface of the occult entities that existed amongst the humans.

Although she primarily kept to herself, Josie knew many other vampires who roamed the same city as her. A few were in positions of power and fame, living in the global public eye but keen on keeping their true nature unknown to humans. On the other hand, Josie had no desire for anyone’s attention and often created aliases to give to any human colleagues or acquaintances she made. She always had her bases covered for watching her own back and keeping under the radar, which had her wondering why she was being watched.

There was no chance Josie was going home while being followed. She hadn’t determined whether or not whatever was near posed any threat to her, but still, she kept a straight face as she continued walking.

With each step, her surroundings became more eerie and Josie felt the invisible presence behind her keep up easily. She was calculating what to do next while waiting for a chance to make a move and attack first, and then she felt it. The presence was closer, falling in step behind her. Josie knew she had to act.

Without a second thought and faster than any human could see, she whipped around to grab ahold of who was behind her. It wasn’t until she had them pressed against a nearby brick wall that she finally got a good look at them, and once she did, annoyance took over.

“Oh, for fuck sake,” Josie hissed through gritted teeth and harshly pushed the light curly-haired man back against the wall again by his neck. “You know better than to sneak up on me, Harry.”

“Josephine, always a pleasure,” Harry greeted cockily, his British accent sounding like velvet as he flashed his infamous dimpled grin. “Never can be a simple reunion with you, can it?”

“It’s been 10 years,” Josie seethed as she gripped tighter.

“Oh, don’t be a drag. Better late than never, right?”

“God, you’re such an ass.”

Josie wanted nothing more than to smack the smug grin off Harry’s face, but instead, she kept her composure and even loosened her grip on the other vampire’s neck. Unfortunately for her, though, Harry took that as a second of vulnerability.

In the blink of an eye, Harry grabbed Josie’s arm and pulled her toward him, spinning them around and making Josie groan as he pushed her against the wall just like she’d done to him moments before.

“Get off of me,” Josie snapped then pushed Harry away. He just laughed in response, looking stupidly handsome as he did so. “What the hell do you want?”

“I’ve missed my best friend,” Harry pouted as Josie walked away. “Can’t I just drop in for a visit with her because I feel like it?”

“Not when the last time I saw you, you snapped my neck and then disappeared without a trace. For 10 years, need I remind you. Some best friend.”

Harry groaned as he followed after her.

“You’re still bitter over that? How many times do I have to apologize?”

“You haven’t apologized,” Josie stated in annoyance, then turned around to face him. “I haven’t seen you since it happened, asshole. Now, you only come looking for me when you’ve royally fucked up, or you need something. So, which is it?”

“I do not,” he grumbled, making her scoff.

“Yeah, right.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“I’m here for a celebration, actually,” he replied then paused while he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small blood bag he must’ve stolen from a hospital with a sad tiny drawing of a candle taped to it. “Happy Birthday!”

“Not my birthday,” Josie muttered then took the bag from him and ripped it open. Once she was finished draining its contents into her mouth, she tossed it into a nearby trashcan.

“Thanks for sharing,” Harry huffed, making Josie smirk. “And, yes, it is. It’s Halloween. Also known as our birthday.”

“No, your birthday is in February,” Josie corrected and Harry rolled his eyes again. “You know I don’t celebrate our birthdays on Halloween 'cause it’s not our birthday. It’s the day we died, Harry. 200 years ago.”

“And you don’t look a day over 100.”

“I can’t stand you.”

Josie turned on her heel and started walking away again, earning another annoyed groan from the other vampire.

“Josephine,” Harry called as he easily caught up, then grabbed hold of her arm and turned her back to look at him. Once they were face to face again, Harry held her gaze, then sighed.

A familiar silence fell between them. It wasn’t awkward. It never was between them given their long past together and they both just needed a moment to take the other in after 10 long years apart. Eventually, it was Josie who broke that silence.

“You know I hate being called Josephine,” she said, shuddering at the formal use of her full name.

“I do,” Harry agreed. “But I’m not just anybody.”

He was right and was well aware that no one would ever have the same significance to Josie as he did.

“Why are you here, Harry?”

“I’ve missed you. It’s been a long time. Too long, Jose.”

Josie gave him another once-over while he was not so subtly roaming her body with his gaze as well.

“Your hair is longer,” she told him. “It looks good. In a messy, greasy kind of way.”

“Bet it’d look better with your hands running through it,” he replied and swiftly snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him.

“No beating around the bush this time, hm? You’d love for me to give in to you that easily, wouldn’t you?”

“I mean, it has been 10 years.”

“That it has.”

“We could go back to yours. What do you say?”

“I say,” Josie started and moved to brush your lips against Harry’s teasingly. He exhaled as she moved away slightly, then gently placed her hands behind his neck. She let her fists tangle into his curls for a moment before quickly moving one hand to his chin, and twisting his head to the side until there was a sickening crack. Harry’s body went limp, and Josie let it fall to the ground, then stepped over it and continued on her way home as if nothing happened. “That payback is a bitch.”

About an hour later, Josie was curled up on her favourite chair reading a popular book she’d seen on TikTok about a Fae and human falling love when Harry burst through her apartment door.

“Ok, I guess I deserved that,” he stated then cracked his probably stiff neck. “I don’t remember you ever playing this dirty. I’m impressed.”

“And I thought I’d have at least another hour before you woke up,” Josie muttered then set her book down.

Harry rolled his eyes as she stood and crossed the small space between them, brushing her shoulder against his before heading down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, then followed after her.

“I’m changing into something comfy,” Josie replied before switching on the bedroom light and walking over to her dresser.

“Why? It’s Halloween. We should go out.”

“No.”

He groaned then flopped onto her bed, moving his gaze to stare at the ceiling. “When did you get so boring?”

“Not boring, just tired,” Josie answered as a matter of fact. “I mean, you can leave if you want.”

“Haha, funny,” Harry snarked, then leaned onto his elbows to look at her better. Josie smirked as she pulled the long-sleeved shirt she’d worn all day up and over her head before tossing it into the dirty laundry basket by the doorway. Harry’s eyes remained glued to her as she did this and made no attempt to cover it up.

“Like what you see?” Josie asked while unbuttoning her jeans and shimmying out of them. She didn’t miss the way Harry’s gaze roamed over the red lacy underwear ensemble she wore.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied then adverted his attention from her briefly. “Doesn’t really faze me anymore after 200 years, y’know?”

“Hmm,” Josie hummed in disagreement, glancing down at his lower body. “That boner says otherwise.”

Harry shifted awkwardly onto his side, trying to hide his increasingly visible bulge but remained quiet. Josie smiled to herself triumphantly then turned her back on him and unclasped her bra. The material slid down her arms before falling to the ground with a small thud. She then opened the second drawer of her dresser and pulled out an old worn-out Led Zeppelin t-shirt from the 70’s to slip on and cover herself up with, doing the same with a pair of pyjama shorts right after.

“So that’s where that shirt went,” Harry whispered into her ear, suddenly away from the bed. “Looks better on you than it did on me.”

“Flattery only gets you so far, Harry, you should know this by now,” Josie said before moving around him to climb onto her bed, pulling the duvet over her lap as she leaned against the headboard. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re actually here or not?”

“I want you,” Harry replied suggestively making Josie raise an eyebrow at him in question, Harry paused for dramatic effect as he sat back down on the bed. “To come with me. Y’know, go somewhere new. You’ve been in New York for a long time, and um-.”

He trailed off awkwardly and looked away, clearly thinking about keeping all the details of his unexpected visit hidden from Josie.

“No,” she argued and glanced at him suspiciously. “I like it here, why would I leave?”

“Well, as vampires, it’s, um, good for us to move around,” Harry stammered, keeping his eyes from meeting hers. “So people don’t notice us, right? You’ve been here for a while, soon people will notice.”

“And I’ll deal with it when it happens,” Josie responded and continued to study his odd body language. “If it happens. I’ve been here for nearly 12 years and have done well enough to keep people off my trail about not aging. You never cared about me staying in one place for long before, why now? Is there something you aren't telling me?”

“I… Nathan’s back,” he murmured, almost hoping Josie wouldn’t hear, but her enhanced hearing picked up on it.

“Nathan,” she repeated, then pondered for a moment. She didn’t think she knew anyone named Nathan, but realization and panic soon settled in. Josie took a shaky breath while Harry’s gaze finally met hers again. “Nathan from home. The man responsible for both of us dying and becoming vampires.”

“That’s the one.”

“W-what did he want?”

“Well, after he had someone snap my neck, tie me to a chair then stab me with some wooden stakes when I wouldn’t answer his interrogation… I didn’t get the chance to ask,” Harry explained and started fiddling with the throw blanket draped at the end of the bed. “Was kinda focused on getting out of there.”

“Fuck,” Josie whispered then mindlessly crawled across the bed towards him. Harry flinched slightly as she reached to touch his cheek, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she moved his head until his eyes met hers. “You’re ok, though, right? You got away and we don’t have to worry about them. We’ve avoided him for 200 years, it’s gotta be alright.”

“I wish it were that simple,” Harry replied with a shrug, then leaned into Josie’s touch as he placed his hand over hers. “I knew he’d been trying to track me down for some time, but I didn’t think he’d actually find me seeing as we’ve done so well in avoiding him for so long. That’s why I stayed away. I didn’t want to lead him to you.”

“That’s why you disappeared.”

Harry nodded.

“He’s already killed us once, Josie. I assumed if I stayed away from you, it’d keep him away too. That you’d be safe.”

“You’re an idiot,” Josie stated before leaning her forehead against Harry’s. “Fuck, Harry, he could have killed you. Let him find me. I’m the one he wants dead.”

“He wants both of us dead, actually,” Harry corrected. “Still has a grudge against us for ruining your betrothal to him all those years ago.”

“And now it’s come back to haunt us.”

Josie sighed and pulled back, but Harry put his hands on hers to prevent her from getting too far.

“Hey,” he spoke softly and inched closer to her, making her feel all kinds of things. “We’ll be ok. I lost them somewhere in Austria over a month ago. Haven’t seen any sign of him or his people since.”

Josie’s undead heart pounded as Harry stared at her intensely. She naturally felt better and safer with him present regardless of the circumstances and just having him back ignited a dull fire within her that was impossible to put out.

“So, what now?”

“We wait. It’d be best to stay under the radar until we see if he does anything.”

“And do what in the meantime?” Josie asked.

Harry let his eyes roam her body again.

“Well, I could think of a few things,” he said and Josie knew exactly what he was implying.

“You’re ridiculous. What an insane thing to suggest after dropping the bomb of us being hunted by a psycho vampire.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to?”

“Well, no,” Josie responded. She couldn’t deny the sexual build-up she felt the moment she saw him again and before she could change her thoughts, Harry leaned in and caught her lips with his in a kiss.

“Great, so we’re on the same page,” he mumbled against her lips as he shifted closer to her then deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t long before Harry’s hands gripped Josie’s waist, then slid to her thighs so he could guide her closer. Soon enough, Josie was straddling his lap and after a few moments of making out, she was the first to pull away.

“Mmm,” she groaned as he squeezed her ass, then kissed him again. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this.”

“Too long,” Harry responded.

Soon he lifted Josie’s t-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor. Once that piece of clothing was discarded, Josie helped Harry remove his own before he started sucking on her neck, making sure to leave love marks all over her in doing so.

“We always fall back into the same routine.”

“Well, what we’re doing is what got us into our current predicament with Nathan, innit? It's kind of foolish for us to think anything would change after 200 years of doing this. Still unsure why you picked me over him.”

“I was young, human, and stupidly in love with my best friend,” Josie explained, then shook her head. “Not with some rich asshole my father sold me off to marry. My sneaking around with you while my marriage to Nathan was set in stone probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but everything about that engagement was forced. I didn’t want to be with him and I couldn’t let myself give into a life of misery being the wife of such a horrible creature. My father would be rolling in his grave at how everything played out.”

“You were everything to me,” Harry replied, the seriousness in his voice surprised Josie.

“Harry-.”

“I mean it, Josie. What happened to us?”

Tears started burning Josie’s eyes, but she refused to cry as she took a deep breath.

“I think we figured this would be easier,” she answered, motioning her hand between them. “No strings attached. This way neither of us is tying the other down. We’re free to do whatever and whomever we want. That doesn’t change what I’ve always felt for you, but nothing was the same once we died. Forever is a long time and we’re already stuck with one another whether we like it or not.”

Harry looked at Josie thoughtfully before reaching his right hand to cup her cheek, before leaning in to kiss her deeply again.

“Haven’t been with anyone in over 200 years that makes me feel the way I do when I’m with you, Jose,” he muttered against her lips. “Almost enjoy tasting you as much as I enjoy the taste of blood.”

Josie moaned as his other hand started fiddling with the waistband of her shorts.

“Mmm, you just want to get in my pants.”

“Well, yes.”

“Typical,” Josie chuckled, then tangled her hands into his hair again.

Soon, Harry flipped the two of them over so he was on top, smirking as he took her exposed upper body in before him. His hands rested on her waist, but he wasted no time moving them to her breasts so he could massage them as he leaned down to kiss her once more. Harry’s mouth slid to Josie’s jaw, leaving a trail of small kisses in his wake until he reached her neck, his favourite spot. The gentle curve of where her neck and shoulder met was somewhere Harry loved giving extra attention to and this time was no different. He grazed his sharp fangs against her sensitive skin before leaving two small punctures that filled with blood. But, as quickly as the blood splotted, it was gone as Harry licked the red liquid away.

Josie’s eyes fluttered and she moaned with pleasure as Harry began sucking on that same spot all while grinding his body against her. She wanted, no, she needed more from him but before she could do anything about that craving, a shuffle sounded from the living room, startling her.

“Did you hear that?” She asked, her eyes locked on the doorway to her bedroom, as though someone may burst through it.

“No,” Harry whined, then moved his mouth down her collarbone. “I didn’t hear anything. You’re just on edge.”

Josie considered his words for a moment, thinking that maybe she was overreacting, but then the faintest footstep made one of the old wooden floorboards of the apartment creak. It was a noise Josie couldn’t ignore with her amplified vampire hearing.

“There’s someone here.”

“Josie.”

Josie didn’t respond as she zipped off the bed, picking up her t-shirt from where it was balled up on the floor and putting it back on faster than any human could even comprehend. Harry groaned but was beside her instantaneously, his t-shirt back on too. Josie watched him for a moment before letting her gaze fall to the prominent bulge that remained in his pants, a smirk tugging at her lips as their eyes met again.

“Don’t start,” Harry whispered harshly, making Josie snort a small laugh.

“Wasn’t gonna,” she said, then stepped toward the door.

Harry was quick to stop her, though.

“No chance you’re just about to walk out of here without a plan of attack in facing whatever is out there.”

Josie blinked at him but remained silent as she opened the door and entered the hallway, disregarding his words entirely. Harry groaned at her stubbornness but followed after nonetheless.

The two vampires slowly and quietly crept down the hall toward the living room, not wanting to alert anything that may be waiting for them. Once they reached the entryway into the living room, Josie peaked around the corner and found the place empty without a single thing out of place. She scoffed and stepped further into the room searching for any indication that an intruder was there, but found none.

Josie felt annoyed at her paranoia but was relieved there was nothing to worry about as she turned to face Harry again. However, before she could speak, a sharp wooden stake whizzed through the air toward her. She dodged the stake quickly, watching as it missed making contact with her body by mere inches and following it with her gaze as it continued soaring through the air until embedding itself deeply into the couch behind her.

Snapping her gaze back to the shadowy corner of the room the stake emerged from, Josie watched as a male vampire she didn’t recognize stepped into the faded lights seeping in from the large window and threw another sharpened piece of wood in her direction, fast. This time, however, Josie didn't dodge the attack. Instead, she reached up to grab the stake out of the air as it approached her, then swiftly rotated it in her hands before chucking the weapon right back at the man, nailing him in the gut.

“Are you kidding me?” She yelled at the unknown vampire, watching as he groaned in pain and then fell to the ground. “I just bought that couch, asshole!”

“Josie, we’ve got bigger things to worry about than furniture,” Harry stated. Josie looked over to see him in an all-out brawl with another vampire, this time a female, she still didn’t recognize. Low grunts left their mouths as they began rolling on the ground desperately trying to get the upper hand against the other.

Josie huffed, annoyed with the situation before turning back to her opponent as he cried in pain from yanking the stake out of his stomach, then stood back up. With an aggravated sigh, Josie ripped the other stake out of the couch and sped over to the man. She grabbed him by his neck, not giving him a chance to react as she forcefully pushed him against the wall like she did to Harry earlier that evening.

“Dick move,” Josie said to the vampire before stabbing her weapon into his chest, making sure it hit the exact spot she knew would kill him once and for all.

Letting the man’s greying, lifeless body slump to the ground, Josie then turned to help Harry out with his goon. However, she only took a few steps toward them before a strong force slammed into her side, making her topple to the ground, hard. She struggled against the hold the new attacker had on her and let out a whimper of pain as he straddled her waist and aggressively pinned her wrists down with his hands.

“My, Nathan wasn’t kidding when he said you were a looker,” the nasty-looking vampire spoke up, making Josie scrunch her face in disgust. “May have to keep yourself.”

“Hm, and I see Nathan still has to send others to do his dirty work for him,” Josie spat, then moved her knee up to meet his groin, using all the strength she could muster. The man let go of her wrists as he groaned in pain and moved back from her slightly. Josie was ready to take this opportunity to finish him off, but then Harry appeared behind him and stabbed another stake into the man’s heart through his back. The newly deceased vampire fell to the ground beside Josie and she quickly glared at her best friend disapprovingly. “I could’ve handled it.”

“You’re welcome, Josephine,” Harry replied simply as he held his hand out to help her stand up.

Josie took his hand but still rolled her eyes as he pulled her into a standing position.

“Y’know, a ‘thanks for saving my life, Harry, I don’t know what I’d do without you’ wouldn’t kill you to say.”

“Well I wouldn’t say the second part of that sentence, that’s for damn sure,” Josie responded, then brushed past him. The bodies of three dead vampires were scattered around her apartment and she was severely annoyed by it. “So, what now? We can’t stay here. Nathan clearly knows where we are.”

“I know,” Harry stated firmly. “We need to leave the state.”

“The state? No, that’s not necessary. I have another place near the Canadian border, we can go there.”

“No, absolutely not. Do you hear yourself right now? Josie, Nathan knows we’re here. There’s bound to be more men where these guys came from, and they’re probably not too far from here. It’s too risky to stay so close.”

“But-,” Josie tried to argue but was cut off.

“No buts,” Harry stated. “God, just stop being so damn stubborn for once in your life and listen!”

His raised voice caused Josie to raise her eyebrows at him in surprise.

“Well now you’re just rude,” she scoffed and made her way to the broken-down front door of her apartment, ignoring him.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Josephine, I’m trying to help you,” he groaned and ran his hand over his face aggravatedly. “We’re in this together.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be in this with you, Harry! You’ll just piss off afterward like you always do. That is if we even make it out alive this time.”

Harry took a deep breath and studied his best friend momentarily before speaking up again.

“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” He asked, and Josie shrugged. A smirk soon formed on his mouth, one that Josie used to love, but the laugh that left his mouth made her want nothing more than to just smack the stupid look off his face. She went to say something else but his striking green eyes met hers, making her freeze. “Then I’m sorry about this, Jose.”

“What the hell are you talking about-,” Josie began but was cut off abruptly when Harry sped behind her and locked her into a chokehold. “Harry, don’t! If you snap my neck again I swear it’ll be the last thing you do.”

A deep chuckle rippled through Harry and vibrated against Josie’s back as she struggled against his hold.

“Sorry, love, but it’s for your own good,” he stated smoothly. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Josie continued to fight and Harry let her for a second longer before he twisted her head to the side with a sickening crack, and everything went black.

[loganwritesprobably]

It's okay, you're still cute

Five Times Caspian Gave Law A Seashell, and One Time Law Gave One Back

In return for some gorgeous art of one of my One Piece OCs, I wrote this fic for a moot of mine @categoryace with their OC Caspian!

Content/Warnings: Law/Caspian, courting attempts, pre-slash, unaware mutual pining, fluff, 5+1, hurt/comfort, Robin is so smart, Law is not, first kiss

Caspian and Law had met just once before, but it had been a very nice interaction. Law was a gruff man, but Caspian could see that underneath all of that was a wonderful, tender hearted man. He just had to uncover it, and he wanted the chance to do that. The best way to do that? Well it was to attempt to court the man of course - they could spend time getting to know each other and enjoying the other's presence and after that, if everyone was still interested, they'd enter a formal partnership.

– – – – – – –

The next time they encountered each other, it was on a random no-name island with one of the smallest towns he'd seen. After briefly catching up with the heart pirates, he headed straight for the coast of the island where they’d docked. He was pleased to note the tang was docked in the same place, so there was next to no chance that Law would leave without Caspian noticing, meaning he’d get his chance to give Law his gift. 

He searched across the shore line and through the sand until he found the perfect shell. There was a tradition on his home island, ingrained into their culture, that in order to begin courting someone, you should offer them a seashell. He wasn’t sure that it was present across all islands, but he wanted to do it all the same. Surely it would be understood, even if it was a different item than was used on other islands. He dusted off the shell he’d found, taking the time to rinse it off in the water so it was perfect, and when Law returned to the shore to return to the tang, he quickly approached.

“Law.” Caspian said, stepping up to Law with a smile. The heart pirate captain looked up at the sound of his name, not acknowledging the approaching Caspian, but looking at him to indicate where his attention was. “I got this for you.” He offered softly, holding out the shell for Law to take. He’d been about to explain the significance of the gift when Penguin and Shachi ran past them screaming about marines. Law swore and took off after them, taking the shell but never managing to hear the explanation behind the gift.

That was okay, Caspian was sure the ocean would bring them together again.

– – – – – – –

The next time Caspian saw Law, they’d just docked up on an island, and the doctor and his crew looked worse for wear. Some sort of battle, he presumed. The crews mingled, and Caspian watched and admired from afar as Law took the time to make sure each and every one of his crew members was well and patched up properly, before he tended to himself. On their previous island, Caspian had gone shell hunting again - anticipating the next time he’d see Law, he’d been looking on each island for the right shell - and found the most gorgeous blue shell that reminded him of the colour of Law’s ‘room’ ability. He waited patiently until Law was alone, patching his own wounds, then went to sit beside the doctor.

“Law.” He greeted, the same as the last time they’d seen each other, and the doctor glanced up to acknowledge the presence before continuing with his work. “I have another gift for you.” Caspian said, waiting for Law to finish his work. When the captain looked up, Caspian presented the shell with a beaming smile. “It reminded me of you.” He explained, and before he could speak any more, they were interrupted again, this time by a young civilian girl, asking if Law could help her injured family. The captain was powerless to refuse, saying a quick thanks to Caspian for the gift and then he was gone, with no explanation given once again. Darn.

– – – – – – –

Caspian saw Law next in passing, both of them still aboard their own ships. Caspian’s crew pulled up beside the polar tang, which had surfaced so Law could stand atop the submarine to greet the familiar crew.

“Caspian.” Law greeted, and the sound of his name on the surgeon's tongue made him shiver. “Law. I have a gift for you.” He replied with a smile, hopping over the side of the ship to land on the polar tang flawlessly. From his pocket he pulled a shell and handed it to the other man. Law studied it with a raised brow, quickly licking his lips. This was the third shell he’d received now. He was about to ask what the deal with the shells was when Bepo pushed open the hatch. “Captain! Something is wrong in the engine room, we need your help.” The mink announced, and Law groaned once again interrupted. He briefly apologised before disappearing back into the submarine, and Caspian accepted a rope ladder thrown over the side of the ship to climb back up to the deck, a frown on his face. 

Three attempts, three shells, and something just seemed determined to interrupt them. But, he’d keep trying until Law said no.

– – – – – – –

Attempt four - what could possibly go wrong?

Caspian and Law almost collided with each other crossing the island, Caspian taking a light stroll and Law sprinting. “Law-” Caspian began but Law cut him off with a loud. “Don’t stop! Run!” And at the urgency in his voice, Caspian did so. They ran until they looped behind a building, both panting from the cardio. Caspian quickly slipped a hand into his pocket to confirm the shell was still there and intact. It was. He sighed in relief, which made Law look up.

“I have a gift for you.” Caspian said, and Law huffed out a soft laugh. “Why am I not surprised?” It made Caspian smile, though he wasn’t sure that was quite the right response to a courting gift. He held out the shell and Law took it, slipping it away. Before anyone could speak, the shooting of a gun echoed out, and the distinct sound of Penguin screaming rang through the air, and Law was off like a shot to find and help his friend.

– – – – – – –

So far, Caspian had attempted four times to officially begin courting Law, and not once had the surgeon acknowledged it and Caspian also hadn’t had the chance to explain. He’d try one final time, a fifth time, and then if it didn’t succeed he’d consider that a sign from the ocean that it wasn’t meant to be. The shell in his pocket was the best he’d found so far, slightly sparkling and a gorgeous opal colour. It was perfect, no better courting gift could be given.

He encountered Bepo first, who explained they’d run into the straw hat pirates, and Law was with that crew. Caspian nodded and let the mink guide them to where the crew was, and for a moment Caspian just stood back with his crew and observed the way he interacted with the other crew. He was clearly comfortable, that was nice. It was Robin, their archeologist, that noticed and acknowledged Caspian first, and so he approached the group to join their socialisation. 

They spent a long while together, Caspian waiting for the perfect time to offer Law the courting gift, a part of him nervous that this would be the end of the line for them. He also had a creeping anxiety that lingered, the thought of his final rejection being witnessed by strangers was unsettling.

It was nearing sundown when Caspian plucked up all his courage to approach Law, who was sitting near the sea and drinking, mostly alone. He sat beside the surgeon, with the best smile he could manage on his face. “I brought you a gift.” Caspian said, pulling the shell from his pocket and offering it to Law. “This is what, number five? You like shells, huh?” Law said, turning the item in his hand to observe it. “Do you like it?” Caspian asked softly, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “Yeah, pretty.” Law said simply, and Caspian’s hopeful heart clenched in his chest. No real response. When Zoro came and dropped himself down next to Law with his own bottle, the surgeon simply pocketed the shell and began a conversation with the swordsman, and Caspian took that as a rejection. He managed to politely say goodbye to everyone before leaving with his crew keeping close, ready to sail and not see Law again for quite some time.

– – – – – – –

“Do you know what you just did?” Robin asked curiously when Law moved from the edge of the beach to sit closer to the fire they’d started for warmth. “What?” Law asked, and the archeologist gave him a sad smile. She’d done a lot of research during her life, and when she’d watched the interaction, she had known what had happened. In the time between she’d simply observed, attempting to decipher whether Law knew what he’d done. Clearly not. “The shell you were given - it was a courting gift. The Captain, Caspian, he’s trying to court you. He interpreted your lack of response or enthusiasm as a rejection, it seems.” Robin said, tucking some hair behind her ear as she spoke. “The shells are what?” Law asked, as if the air had been punched out of him. “Shells plural? Oh Law, what have you done?” Robin asked, though she was playfully curious alongside feeling some pity for the other captain. “He.. that was the fifth one he’s given me.” He mumbled, and Robbin couldn’t help her soft laughter. “I’m sorry nobody explained it to you sooner. Perhaps you need to find a way to make this right?” 

– – – – – – –

It took far longer than Law would’ve liked for them to run into Caspian and his crew again. He’d been holding onto the shell he was ready to give the blue haired Captain for weeks, it was as if the tang was being avoided entirely. He really hoped not. Law wasn’t ready to accept the note that they’d ended on last - he wanted to give Caspian the shell, even if it wasn’t perfect. He needed to.

The ship he’d been waiting weeks to see was finally spotted on the horizon, appearing to get ready to dock. Perfect. Rather than risking anything else, Law waited until they were just close enough to the island and used room to transport himself, allowing the crew to dock - no more risks, no more chances for Caspian to escape.

He waited there on the shore, sand beneath his boots, shell heavy in his pocket. Caspian left the ship first, clearly surprised to see Law, and the surgeon watched as he went stiff. He’d fucked up so bad. “Law.” Caspian greeted as he usually did, and Law gave him a tight smile. “Caspian,” he said, and took a step forward, pushing his hands into his pockets, “I have a gift for you.” He then said, mirroring what had been said to him each time. “Oh?” Caspian asked, and Law could tell he was trying not to get his hopes up and he couldn’t bear that any longer. He took the shell from his pocket and held it out.

“Robin told me what you were trying to do. I didn’t understand before, but I do now.” He said, and Caspian moved achingly slowly to take the shell, brushing his thumbs over the surface, admiring it. It was a little scuffed, and it wasn’t exactly a pretty colour - but it was given to him by Law and that was all that mattered. “This would probably be the perfect moment for a kiss…” Caspian almost whispered, shell still clutched in his hands. “Well, we probably shouldn’t waste it.” Law replied, hesitating only for a moment before he reached out to pull Caspian to his body, one hand on his wrist and the other wrapping around his neck. They paused just before their lips touched, breathing in the same air, then finally they kissed.

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[ceruleanmusings]

the impression that i get - mickames

i've had the basis of this dialogue exchange in my head for ages but couldn't figure out what fic to put it in and where or how until i decided to just take it out and make it its own scene instead of trying to shoe-horn it in somewhere else. i was going to wait and post this on james' canon birthday in two days but i got impatient. i need the fluff. this is set in season 2. @raging-violets @partiallypearl @witchofinterest @myloveforhergoeson

“You’re still here?” James asked, leaning against the door frame to Kelly’s office. Feet crossed at angles, hands shoved in pockets, arm pressed against the wood from forearm, backpack hanging off the crook of his bent elbow. The perfect pose of nonchalance—practiced nonchalance because he had to always have everything regarding his appearance on point.

Mickey glanced at him from around Kelly’s laptop on her standing desk. It was the slight crease to her brow that made him realize his mistake.

It was Wednesday.

He knew that.

He knew she knew he knew that.

She always stayed behind to help Kelly with her administrative work on Wednesdays. It usually amounted to taking messages or ignoring calls Kelly didn’t want to deal with or translating meeting notes or updating contact information for potential talent recruitment.

“You’re still here,” she commented, still looking at him but clicking at something on the screen. “Didn’t you finish laying down tracks a few hours ago?”

He did, indeed. Getting songs done in one take wasn’t hard for him but he wanted to make sure they had more than one perfect track to use. It was always good to have options, wasn’t it? “Gustavo wanted me to get some new headshots done.”

The crease smoothed out and was replaced with the tiniest of smiles pulling back the corner of her mouth. Anyone else might not have noticed but he for sure did. He’d spend enough time looking at her. He had all her micro expressions memorized.

“He wasn’t a fan of Hot Janitor or Hot Librarian?”

“No!” James rolled his eyes and stood straight. Clearly Gustavo didn’t know what he was talking about. “I, for one, think he’s just jealous.”

“Well, he has a few things to choose from on that front.”

He didn’t have a chance to dig more into that comment because her attention too quickly moved back to the screen. All mirth left her face and a deep concentration took over as she hid behind the screen once more. He twisted his mouth to the side. That wasn’t how he planned this encounter to go. He had to keep it going.

“What’re you doing?” He stepped further into the room, his steps halting and tentative. It wasn’t that he thought Kelly would stoop so low to have shock pads on the floors of her office but, well, Gustavo had some interesting ways to corral them that he wouldn’t entirely put past the staff of Rocque Records to be a little unique themselves.

“Uncle Gustavo wants his audition tapes organized.” She sighed and rubbed an eye. “Thing is it’s already sorted and named by date, but he wants folders in folders and some arbitrary system that makes sense to no one else but him.” She lifted a piece of paper that had what looked to be chicken scratch scribbled all over it.

James nodded. “Sounds like Gustavo alright.”

She hummed and slapped the paper back down on the desk. A few loose Starburst wrappers—pinks and reds—flew off the desk. “Thankfully it’s only for the last year so it’s not too much but…”

Last year? James’ ears perked up. That meant his audition had to be in there somewhere. Had she seen it? Studying her face gave him no answers. She had a way of keeping everything locked up tight. And with her concentration thrown on top of it, chipping away would have to be delicate.

“Didyouwatchmine?”

Being delicate wasn’t his strong suit.

Something crossed her face, a sort of careful contemplation mixed with that made every second pass like an eternity. “Yes,” she finally answered. The simple word nearly knocked him over. Or maybe it was the gust of relief wooshing out of him that made him take a step back. Made him take stock of the reality of the conversation they were having. She’d seen his audition. She had thoughts about his audition. He needed to know what they were.

"And?" The question burst out of him, his body nearly vibrating with anticipation.

"And I thought you were good.” She shrugged, shuffled papers again, and put them in the small metal basket marked OUT with a small white label. Oh. Good. Not great or fantastic or anything. Just good. But “good” was better than nothing wasn’t it? He could take good. “And then you stage-dived onto security.” She pointed at the screen as if to remind him.

“Yeah, well, Kendall needed my help." James shrugged. “He had my back. I needed to have his.”

That look came back to her face. Her mouth twisted to the side and, for second, he didn’t think she’d say anything but, after a small shake of her head, she continued, ”…For the record, I thought Uncle Gustavo was crazy not to initially pick you.”

“Really?” He for sure thought so, especially following up with his crazy idea that James had no talent. But to hear someone else say it to him, for her to say it to him, he had to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A light flush came to her cheeks and she cleared her throat. “…But it all worked out in the end. For the best, I think. You belong here.” She flashed a small smile and he may as well have burst into a thousand pieces. He wasn’t hard to please: some pie, a compliment or two, maybe tell him they were proud of him, someone acknowledging his talents and his efforts, and he was good to go. But this…

She’d said that to him before; in fact he remembered it was the very first thing she’d ever said to him, and it meant as much now as it did then, nearly a year ago. She had to have said that on purpose, right?

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” James nearly groaned when Kelly came into her office. She had to notice she was ruining the moment, right? Because there definitely was a moment and he wasn’t making it up. He wouldn’t come crashing back down to reality like that if there hadn’t been one. The little wings on his feet must’ve melted.

“Almost done,” Mickey replied though the weariness in her words clued James in she didn’t actually believe it. But it was probably what Kelly wanted to hear. “Are you ready to go?”

Kelly grimaced. “That’s the thing. We had another meeting called; it’s going to take some time. You should probably grab a bus and head home.” Mickey groaned. “I’m sorry but those pesky things called child labor laws have my hands tied.”

“You’re not even paying me.”

Kelly gestured with her ever-present clipboard. “And that makes it worse.” Her eyes slid over to James. “You should be going too.” Walking past him, Kelly moved to her desk, pausing only to give a brief glance at the scattered candy wrappers on the floor before reaching for a drawer. It slid open with a few squeaks and she removed her purse, then her wallet, then some money. “Here,” she said, pressing it into Mickey’s palm, “I won’t be too late. If I am, you girls can order a pizza.”

Mickey clicked her tongue and pocketed the money. “You say that like you’re doing us a favor, but you just don’t want to do the dishes if we make dinner.

“Two things can be true at once,” Kelly replied and then kissed her cheek. Kelly was back out of the room in a flurry, sucking the past ease out behind her in her fast-moving wake. Awkwardness settled in. Mickey shifted her weight from foot to foot before she went around turning off the computer, checking the drawers of Kelly’s desk and filing cabinets, closing the blinds, watering some plants he thought was fake, turning on a desk lamp, to turn off the overhead lights, grab her bag, and lock the door. James watched it all with curious eyes. He’d seen enough rom-coms—enjoyed them, devoured them, studied them—to know The Stall. But was it for his benefit?

“I’ll wait with you,” he said when she gave him a look, turning away from the door. “I’m heading in the same direction anyway.” She couldn’t argue that. Kelly did tell him to leave too, after all. She played with the keys in her hands, they jingled and jangled in her twitchy grip, and she nodded.

She still swung them in restless fingers when the bus drove up five minutes later. It was drowned out by the loud hiss as the bus settled and the doors opened. People gathered and bunched up, waiting to board after others got off. James swung his bag to the front digging in it as the line moved forward. Mickey boarded and he stepped back, still rooting around, giving space to others.

Finally, he found a few crumpled bills at the bottom of his bag—the leftovers of his per diem from the week—and dropped it in the collection container at the front of the bus. He quickly navigated his way past the rows at the front until he reached Mickey’s and dropped into the empty seat next to her. She froze, earbuds dangling from fingers halfway to her ears to stare at him.

“James?”

“Yes?” He settled his bag on his lap and stretched one leg out into the aisle. He forgot how close the seats could be.

“You don’t live this way.”

The bus rocked with new passengers boarding. “I know.”

“You’re going in the opposite direction.”

“For now.” She blinked. “You don’t like the bus.” She blinked again. Hmm. Maybe he needed to be a bit more obvious. “I’ll just ride it with you this way and take one back to the Palm Woods.”

It took for the bus doors to close and another hiss to be release as the bus pulled away for her to speak again. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged. “No big deal.” Her hands slowly lowered back to her lap, earbuds rolling between her twisting fingers. His skin burned beneath her scrutinizing gaze. Okay, he had to change the subject. Lighten the mood. Find a safe topic to talk about. And what better, safter, topic than himself? “So! My audition really must have stood out!”

“…Among others.”

“Did I make a lasting impression?” He bumped her shoulder with his own as he asked, smoothing over his question, downplaying it even though it was filled with sincerity. He wanted to know. Needed to know, even.

“You’ve made a few.” In the past? Recently? Right now? What. Did. That. Mean? His answer came a second later, like an afterthought, "Your first impression was great.”

Awesome! Upgraded from good to great!

“Your second, not so much.”

A record scratched in his head "....Huh?"

The bus rattled and shook as they moved over a bump. Her nerves seemed to shake out her thoughts along with it. "Aunt Kelly would send some of the auditions to us. Usually the bad ones so we could laugh about them. Yours was really good. I actually had Mel call them to yell at them for me for how wrong Gustavo was.”

His mind whirled, slow to catch back up from that jarring hit. He hadn’t been rattled that hard since the hockey state semi-finals in freshman year when he had a cheapshot from behind into the plexiglass. Like then, it took a bit for him to reorient himself. So that meant… “…You’ve seen my audition before.”

“Yes. You, um, how can I put this?” She paused and he waited, held his breath, didn’t make a sound. He wanted to be sure he caught every word. She always chose them so carefully. “You had this…soul? To the song. I haven’t heard anyone else sing it like you did. Like you were deeply feeling the words and what he was saying. Which…only made me believe it. You know?”

“Oh.” He should’ve been able to come up with something better but his brain glitched as he took on the new information.

 “After Kelly told us the news Gustavo was making a boy band? I, um, was hoping to meet you at some point. Especially after the song you chose.” He gaped at her and shrugged. “Which is why I was so confused that the James from the audition was so different from the James I met at the Palm Woods.”

“Oh.” He really needed to find something better to say. Sorry didn’t even come close. But how could he explain just what he felt when he first saw her? It was like he was struck by lightning, like everything he’d done in his life had brought him to that moment. Like he had an answer to a question he didn’t know existed or he’d been trying to find.

So he chased that feeling, that experience, and her by extension. And he messed it all up.

Boy, was he a giant turd.

Still… “…How’m I doing now?”

“…They say, third time’s the charm, right?” She bumped his shoulder with his, smiling softly. The sight of it made his shoulders drop and his breath ease. She held out one of her earbuds, gesturing to his ear. “I still have some bad auditions saved if you want to watch them.”

“Um, yeah!”

He pressed the earbud into his ear and leaned close, heads resting against each other’s while she pressed play.

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With Titles That Start With S (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

Safe (ao3) - pasteldanhowells

Summary: Dan was a young neko who’s lived with his Master Chris fever since he was a kitten, but things were different now that he was older. Chris treated his neko poorly and only used him for his own pleasures. Chris’s best friend Phil finds out that Chris is giving away the young neko and immediately steps up to save him. Ultimately, a friendship blossoms between Dan and Phil, and Dan gets the happy ending he never thought he’d get.

said it was love and did it for life (did it for you) (ao3) - deletable_bird

Summary: Dan is down on his knees the first time Phil mentions weddings with any seriousness.

Sail Away With Me - paradisobound

Summary: It was a fluke. Dan shouldn’t have ever gone with Sam to a party on a yacht. He shouldn’t have trusted her to go. But in a chance encounter, he ends up in bed with Phil Lester, a billionaire CEO of a luxury clothing company. When he thinks he’s screwed up enough, he realizes he’s in way too deep. Because Phil Lester has fallen in love with him. The catch: Dan gave Phil a fake name and all Phil has to remember Dan by is the tattoo on his hip and the necklace he left behind.

Sanctuary (ao3) - hamartiawrites

Summary: Dan and Phil play Outlast II, and Dan finds out that Phil hiding half of his face with his shirt wasn't just an exaggeration for the fans.

sativa (i said im ready) (ao3) - catbearbunz (bunnieovadamoon)

Summary: it’s 2009, and phil really wishes dan would call. he does, but he comes greener than expected.

aka they get drunk and high and have esex.

Saturday Night Fever (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: It’s the 1970s, and Phil is just looking to have a little fun.

scratches on your body so you can take me whenever (ao3) - yoongioss

Summary: “Oh, your nails are really long? Are you growing them out?”

Dan glances down at them and raises his eyebrows like he didn’t look at them just this morning.

Second Chances, New Beginnings - doomedhowell  

Summary: Phil is a primary school teacher, Dan is a radio presenter and they’ve adopted a child together. Now they’re split up though and Dan faces the struggles of being a single dad while also having to deal with seeing Phil every time he takes his daughter to school.

Ships that pass in the night (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.

show me where my days went (ao3) - weuspronouns

Summary: Through times of faith and resilience, Phil makes sense of his and Dan's place in each other's lives over the years. His only certainty in their ever-changing circumstances.

(inspired by you (show me where my days went) by wallows)

Silk - intoapuddle

Summary: There’s something vulnerable in pushing Dan’s eyes closed, and for some reason Phil can’t stop thinking about it (kink discovery, blindfolded)

Sir, How Old Is The Boy? (ao3) - steddieornot

Summary: Arjun sighed, “look, I understand that you are on vacation with your son, however, by law, you can’t bring him here after 8 pm.”

“He’s not my son?” The man now looked horrified. This confused Arjun even more.

Sketching in Moonlit Darkness - dnplegs, rainbowchristy, spaceandvinyls

Summary: Dan’s whole family are Slytherins, and he was expected to be one as well. But the stupid sorting hat had other ideas. Dan Howell: A Hufflepuff. What a disappointment, right? Luckily there’s a nerdy black-haired boy in the year above him who’s more than happy to supply cuddles and kind words when Dan’s in need.

Sleeping In A Spotlight (ao3) - dizzy

Summary: Dan lets Phil play out a little fantasy.

slumber party (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan never has been able to resist Phil’s spontaneous ideas, like having a slumber party in their lounge after filming a gaming video. Especially since it means getting to appreciate Phil in those red silk pyjamas.

(Set right after filming the DAPG video, “Getting Deep at the Slumber Party.")

Slut Era (ao3) - Bandom_Squirrel

Summary: Dan worries that he’s bad at being slutty. Phil is Phil.

snowballs (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: your mum is trying to get me drunk

So Tell Me When You’re Going To Let Me In - definitelythor

Summary: After Dan’s kicked out of his family home at Christmas, he picks up a hitchhiker on the way to York, and at first he wonders if he’s made a huge mistake. But Phil’s actually kind of perfect, and maybe fate does exist after all.

so you don't have to be brave (ao3) - Jamez

Summary: Dan is having trouble sleeping on tour. Phil helps.

sometimes i really think it would be cool to rewind (ao3) - r1caner

Summary: I used to watch the pigeons and be so afraid that they would die. But they will, and maybe some of the ones I used to see outside already have. I will too – I know that, always have. And I love to live, to drink coffee, to kiss you, to look at a dog and think about having one. I love to live, but I can live with life ending.

And then I think about it having to happen to you and I can’t do it.

Speak Now - phanlight

Summary: Teenage!phan are best friends and Phil has a crush on Dan. Phil also has a parrot and one afternoon when Dan’s at his house the parrot says “I love Dan” or something and then fluff happens.

Spin (ao3) - iihappydaysii

Summary: Phil and Jimmy used to be good friends in uni--very good friends. The sort-of relationship they used to have is all in the past, but when Jimmy comes over for dinner and Dan jokingly suggests a game of spin the bottle, things end up going very differently than Phil had planned.

Spoilers (ao3) - ahappyphil, Fictropes

Summary: “Fuck.” His younger self lets out a shaky breath, then he manages to compose himself enough to ask, “Do we have a dog?”

still so lucky (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Dan and Phil take a little trip, but Phil gets a migraine.

Stir Fry (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Dan never cooks unless he's feeling guilty. Phil waits.

strangers (ao3) - waveydnp

Summary: dan is new to london and living in a mostly empty flat, desperate to forget the mistakes of his past. he’s all alone – until one day he gets a piece of mail addressed to someone in the neighbouring flat, one mr. philip lester. he can’t exactly not return it, can he?

Such a Heavenly View (ao3) - TheUKAmazingDan

Summary: Hoping to escape the front lines, Phil Lester quits his job and trains with the medical corps, months before the war started. When all is not what he thought it would be, and a small tragedy occurs, he finds himself back home as a volunteer at a war hospital. He meets someone, someone unexpected, who offers him a heavenly view of his circumstances and helps him believe that just maybe the world isn’t so bad after all.

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Phil (ao3) - castrotophic

Summary: Phil buys a motorcycle. Dan can't decide whether he's horny or upset. Kissing ensues.

swallowing the stars again (ao3) - bliiinding

Summary: “Because this is what we do.” Phil told him, floorboards creaking underfoot as he treaded closer. “As people.” He placed a hand back against the wall of the house, as if to steady himself, if not, to still the forces of whatever lay not quite so dormant within the walls. “We want to show the people that matter the most, the things that matter the most.”

Dan tried to hide his blush, but everything with Phil Lester was a weighted die, a rigged game, a losing war, but still he refused to set his cards down to the table - he was stubborn, stupid, perhaps, or instead just irrefutably sixteen years old. Phil smiled at him. Another battle lost.

Sweet Pea (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: A nickname that goes bitter in your mouth. Cries for help that no one listens to. Gentle hands that make you quake on the ground you’re standing on. When Phil first met Nico, he thought he was a gift from the heavens. But behind the mask lies something daunting, something unnerving, that Phil never foresaw. Through his journey, he finds solace in Dan, the regular at his workplace, who seems to be the only one who sees through Nico’s mask to the darkness underneath.

[angelremnants]

Roll Call | J. B. Barnes

FOUR. Memento Mori

summary : The biting winters of 1943 paled in comparison to the frozen hearts of soldiers, weary and broken by the unrelenting call of war. For men burdened by despair, the burn of alcohol was the only warmth they knew. Sergeant Barnes lived for one purpose: to stand by his best friend’s side, no matter where the battlefield led them. But a chance encounter at a dimly lit bar near the military camp changes everything. A young woman, bold yet gentle, awakens something in him—a spark long buried beneath years of frost and pain. Inspired by Roll Call by The Neighborhood.

pairing : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (13+), heavy angst, major character death, grief and loss, emotional closure, mentions of past trauma, references to death and mourning. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 8.7k

(ao3 version)

Bucky had become used to the hum of the Avengers HQ. The walls, made of concrete and steel, were lined with memorabilia, trophies from battles fought and won, but they didn’t quite feel like home to him yet. He spent a lot of his time wandering the corridors in between training sessions, moving from one room to the next, as though waiting for something to make him feel grounded. The gym had been his solace for a while, a place where he could push his body and numb his mind with repetition.

This afternoon, he’d gotten out of the gym, his muscles sore but his mind alert, and found himself aimlessly strolling down the hallways. He passed the living room, where the TV was muted and the faint chatter of his teammates could be heard from the adjacent kitchen. The familiar hush of conversations, the clinking of dishes—it was all comforting in its way, though still foreign. He was a soldier, not a family man, and the rhythm of casual life felt strange.

He moved past the living room, drawn by the faint smell of old books and leather. He stopped in front of the door to the archive room—one of the quieter places in the compound. The door creaked open, and there, in the center of the room, sat Steve Rogers, sorting through a cardboard box filled with what appeared to be random old objects. There was something about Steve’s focus that made him look younger, less burdened, like he could still be the soldier who had fought in the trenches of WWII.

“Hey,” Bucky said, stepping inside, his voice low, almost uncertain. “What’s all this?”

Steve glanced up, offering a half-smile, though his eyes betrayed a hint of weariness. “Just some old stuff SHIELD managed to recover from the HYDRA archives,” Steve replied, lifting the lid of the box. “They’ve been going through anything left behind after the fall. Figured you might want to take a look.”

Bucky nodded absently, his eyes scanning the contents of the box. It was a collection of items, some meaningless, some likely significant—papers, photographs, and a few broken trinkets. But something caught his eye—a familiar glint of silver.

He reached into the box, his fingers brushing against a small pendant, its chain tangled slightly. His breath caught. The pendant. He remembered it clearly. The last time he’d seen it had been in a small, dimly lit room in a HYDRA facility. His thoughts spun.

“Where did you find this?” Bucky asked, his voice strained.

Steve paused, looking at him carefully. “HYDRA kept it in their quarters. I think they knew what it meant to you, even if you didn’t remember.”

The mention of the pendant sent Bucky’s mind reeling. He hadn’t thought about it in years—at least, not consciously. But now that it was in his hand, it felt like the past was rushing back, overwhelming him all at once. His thoughts flashed back to a different time, a different life.

The cold, damp room in HYDRA’s compound felt smaller every time he was confined to it. Bucky sat against the wall, his wrists bound, mind foggy. It was a haze of faces, names he couldn’t remember, and the weight of too many questions. Then, there was her—you. The warmth of your smile, the soft touch of your hands when you’d given him the pendant, and the quiet way you’d promised to be there when he returned. Your voice, your presence, it was as clear to him as if you were standing right next to him.

He remembered that moment vividly—the weight of the pendant in his hand, her soft fingers slipping it over his neck. A gift. A symbol. Something to remind him of who he was before everything went wrong. His heart clenched at the memory. The pendant had meant everything to him back then, a tether to something real in a world that felt lost.

Bucky’s grip tightened around the pendant, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. Steve was still watching him carefully, but Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. Something was wrong.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve asked quietly.

Bucky shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside. “It’s just… something from the past,” he muttered. “Something I almost forgot.”

Steve watched him for a beat before he dug deeper into the box, pulling out an old, rusted lunchbox. “And this,” Steve said, holding it up. “This one’s strange. It looks like it’s been through hell and back. There’s something inside, though.”

Bucky took the lunchbox from Steve’s hands, his brow furrowing. As he opened it, a single folded letter slid out, the paper yellowed with age but still legible. He didn’t need to read the words to know who had written it.

The letter was addressed to him, though his name was scribbled carefully, almost as if the writer was afraid they might make a mistake. Bucky’s hands trembled as he unfolded the letter, the weight of the moment sinking in.

⠀

The cold air bit at your cheeks as you walked toward the post office, the letter clutched tightly in your hands. You had never written something so raw, so deeply personal before. Your fingers were numb from the chill, but you didn’t care. This letter was everything. You had poured your heart into it, each word an outpouring of feelings you had kept hidden for far too long. You had no idea when—or if—he would ever read it. But you had to write it. You had to let him know that even if he never came back, even if he never remembered, you would always love him.

You reached the post office, your breath shallow as you approached the special mail slot. You hesitated for a moment, your eyes flicking to the many flowers and gifts that had been left for the soldiers—tokens of love and loss. A lunchbox, an odd collection of little things. You looked down at the letter, a tear threatening to escape.

With a final glance at the box, you slipped the letter into the slot and turned away, unsure of whether you would ever hear from him again.

You gazed around the post office, at the other small mementos—flowers, little trinkets, all gifts left for the soldiers, for the lost. It was a place of love and loss, of memories too fleeting. With a quiet exhale, you turned and walked out, a quiet tear slipping down your cheek as you thought of him, and the life you should have had.

James walked aimlessly through the streets of New York, the city he once knew like the back of his hand now feeling strange and foreign. The low hum of traffic and the hustle of pedestrians didn’t seem to match the turmoil he felt inside. He had reassured Steve earlier and told him he’d be fine, but he wasn’t sure if he believed it. Steve had enough on his plate, especially with everything that was happening. So Bucky had gone out to clear his mind. To think. He couldn’t stop the weight of her words from echoing in his head, the letter he had never gotten the chance to read until now.

“Some loves last a lifetime, others only live for a season…”

The words were a bitter reminder. He had always thought love was something fleeting, something he would never get to experience. That was before you. That was before you came into his life and quietly turned everything upside down. He ran his fingers over the pendant around his neck. The same one you had given him before… before everything changed. It was the last part of you he still had, the only thing he could hold onto as the years blurred into one long, cold memory.

“I never knew love could feel like this,” the letter had started, your handwriting delicate, your words full of a kind of raw honesty he had never expected from you. It still stung to read it.

“You came into my life and it felt like an imposing, cold but peaceful winter, the kind where you watch the snow slowly fall with contentment while being warmly snuggled under your favorite blanket. You stayed and then you were gone, it all melted away and it felt too unbearable to stay under the blanket.”

Your words wrapped around him, pulling him deeper into the thoughts he didn’t want to face. The more he read, the more his heart ached. He had been a soldier, a weapon. You had been his escape. You had shown him a different way, a life beyond the mission. And when he read your words, it was as if you had always known who he truly was underneath it all, even when he couldn’t see it for himself.

“There were times when I thought I wouldn’t survive without you,” Bucky had read, the ink smudging slightly as his fingers trembled. “But it wasn’t just you I needed, Bucky. It was the hope you gave me. You taught me that love is not just a feeling—it’s a choice. A choice to hold on, even when everything else falls apart.”

Bucky’s breath hitched as he continued to walk, your words like whispers at the edge of his mind. He had never thought love could be so complicated, so full of weight. For so long, he had thought that everything would just end. That he was doomed to walk alone. But you had believed in him.

“I don’t know if you’ll ever understand the weight of what you’ve done to me, Bucky. How you changed everything.”

It crushed him. You had given him so much more than he ever realized. You had given him yourself, your heart. And he had taken it for granted.

As Bucky wandered through the city, lost in thought, he found himself at a corner he didn’t recognize. The post office. It was familiar, yet different. It had been renovated, a fresh coat of paint with modern fixtures—but there was something about it that called to him. It was as if the place had waited for him. Without thinking, he pushed through the door. The bell above it chimed, a sound that felt oddly comforting.

“Can I help you?” an employee asked, a young woman behind the counter.

“I’m looking for some old post office slots,” Bucky said, his voice low. “From… back in the war. WWII era. You know, where letters and packages used to be held.”

The employee’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Yeah, we have a small archive room for that. Let me show you.”

Bucky followed her through the back, his boots echoing in the quiet halls. It was strange, how everything seemed so distant yet familiar. He hadn’t expected to be here today, hadn’t expected this to be the place where his memories would flood back. She opened a door to a small room, filled with shelves of boxes and neatly stored mementos. Some of it was dusty and some of it was carefully preserved. Bucky’s eyes scanned the room, and for the first time in years, he let himself look at things that weren’t about his mission. Things that weren’t about survival.

He found a box marked with his name. Bucky could barely breathe for a moment as he stared at it. It felt like it had been waiting for him, and now that he was standing in front of it, he didn’t know if he was ready for what he would find inside. He opened the box slowly, revealing old photographs, letters, and small trinkets from the time when he was just a soldier, before everything had changed. But what caught his attention was something that was so small, so precious, it almost slipped through his fingers. A watch. It wasn’t just any watch. He recognized the engraving. The same photo he had in his pendant. The same picture.

His heart raced as he gently took it in his hand, turning it over and seeing the small, carefully placed photograph inside. Your face. The same one he’d carried with him for years. It was your smile, warm and filled with hope, staring back at him.

“I’ve lived my whole life without knowing love. But you, Bucky, you gave me more than I ever thought possible. And in return, I gave you a part of me that you’ll always have, no matter where we go. And for that, I’ll forever be grateful to have stumbled upon you in my path.”

The words were seared into his mind as he slipped the watch onto his wrist, the cold metal fitting comfortably as it had always belonged there. He wore it the same way he wore the pendant, like a reminder. Like a promise.

For a moment, Bucky just stood there, in that small room, surrounded by the echoes of a past he had never truly left behind. His mind wandered back to the letter again, the words that had torn through him with the same intensity as they had all those years ago.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance to see you again, but I need you to know one thing… I love you, James Buchanan Barnes. Always have, always will.”

The weight of it hit him like a wave. Love. It was more than he had ever understood. More than a fleeting feeling. It was a bond. A force that could transcend time, distance, and even death.

Bucky let out a slow breath, his fingers tracing the edges of the watch. He could almost feel you beside him, like you had never really left. You were still here, in the way he carried your memory with him. In this way, he would never make the mistake of forgetting you again.

Bucky walked into the old warehouse, a sense of disturbing familiarity getting through him. The assignment he’d been given was simple: as an old soldier from the Second World War, he had been sent to perform a routine and check of old SHIELD storage as he was more likely to make sure everything was intact. Steve had asked him to tag along, but Bucky had insisted on going alone. He didn’t need Steve hovering over him; it’s not like he would find any distractions there, anyway. 

The warehouse smelled like dust and old paper. Stacks of crates and boxes were piled up in every corner, waiting to be sorted through. Bucky hated these kinds of places—too many forgotten things, too much history shoved into dark corners. He didn’t need to be reminded of the things he had lost.

He was here to retrieve some old tech, probably from the HYDRA days, that SHIELD had finally gotten around to cataloging. The kind of stuff that Steve would always want to examine, and that Bucky could never bring himself to care about.

Bucky was halfway through the maze of crates when he heard the unmistakable sound of a motorcycle engine being revved up, but it was only in his mind, the echo of a memory long gone. He hadn’t ridden in years. He hadn’t even thought about it.

But the sound lingered.

Turning the corner, Bucky froze.

There it was. His motorcycle.

The black steel frame and the worn leather seat were all dust-covered and tucked away in a corner, as if they had been waiting for him. Bucky didn’t even know SHIELD had it. He had thought it was gone, left behind in some forgotten corner of history.

But there was more. Two helmets were hanging on the handlebars, seeming to have been taken out from the old bag strapped in the back of the vehicle.

His and hers. One was his, clearly, the scuff marks and scratches from years of use giving it away. The other, well, that one was yours. He didn’t need to see the faded paint or the chipped edges to know.

The memories hit him like a freight train.

⠀

Bucky was standing next to the motorcycle, the engine idling beneath him. It was a rare afternoon off, one of those fleeting moments where they could be together without the looming shadow of war.

You climbed onto the bike behind him, your familiar laugh following every movement a melody he had come to cherish. Bucky glanced back at you as you adjusted your helmet, a soft smile crossing his face.

“You ready for this?” he asked, revving the engine, the excitement of the ride building between you.

You grinned, your hands tightening around his waist. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He turned the bike onto the open road, the wind in your faces as you sped through the streets. The city was your playground, and for that one moment, nothing else mattered.

It was a strangely bright afternoon for a winter day, the wind whipping around you as you roared down the highway, far away from the world that demanded so much from you. Bucky could hear your laughter in his ear, the sound of it both grounding and exhilarating.

He pulled the bike to a stop in a secluded area, the view of the city stretching below you. The sun was setting, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. You had always loved these quiet moments—away from the noise, away from the chaos of the war, of everything that had been forced upon you.

Bucky could still feel your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder, both of you feeling the thrill of the ride, the connection you shared in those rare moments of peace.

“Think we’ll ever have a normal life?” you asked, your voice soft, almost wistful as you rested your head against his back.

Bucky grinned, glancing over his shoulder at you. “I’m not sure what ‘normal’ even is anymore.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Fair point. But at least we have moments like this.”

He reached up to adjust his helmet, then turned to look at you, his eyes softening. “We’ll always have moments like this,” he said, his voice firm with the belief that, despite everything, there were some things that could never be taken away.

Your smile was radiant, so full of hope and trust that it made his heart ache.

He watched you unbuckle your helmet, pulling it off to reveal your hair, wind-tousled and free. Your face lit up as you stared at him, that same smile on your lips. “It’s the little things that matter, right?”

He nodded, his gaze locked on yours, feeling the weight of your words in his chest.

You sat together, leaning against the bike, talking about everything and nothing, your fingers brushing together as if you were tethered by invisible threads. For that moment, there was no war, no pain, no uncertainty. It was just you.

⠀

Bucky blinked, the memory fading away as he stared at the helmets. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping the leather of yours until he felt the strain in his knuckles.

He swallowed hard, the weight of the memory pressing on him, but he forced himself to let go. This wasn’t about the past. It wasn’t. He was here to find what SHIELD needed—old files, maybe some technology—but not this.

Bucky’s hand lingered on the second helmet, the one that had belonged you. A part of him wanted to hold onto it, to cling to the memory of that day, to the melodious sound of your laugh and the peace that came from sharing something so simple, so beautiful.

But he knew he couldn’t.

He had learned the hard way that some things couldn’t be held onto, no matter how much you wanted them to be.

Still, he couldn’t help but think about what you had said that day. “It’s the little things that matter.” The things that seemed insignificant at the time. The fleeting moments of joy.

Yet, the helmet remained in his hands, and the motorcycle, still waiting for him, seemed to call out to him in a way he couldn’t ignore. The way it felt to ride with you, the way you made everything feel like it was possible.

Bucky couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe some things were meant to stay with you, whether you wanted them to or not.

He walked away from the bike, but his gaze lingered on the helmets for a moment longer. The old leather strap of the helmet, worn and cracked, felt almost like it was calling his name. He could hear your voice again and feel the weight of your arms around his waist as you sped through the city streets.

He swallowed again as if trying to take away the knot lodged in his throat, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. It was time to leave. He had to get back to the present, back to the mission, and back to the man who needed him.

Bucky stepped back from the bike, taking a deep breath. The helmet sat there like an anchor to a past he couldn’t change, but also a reminder of a love that had shaped him in ways he would never forget.

But as he turned to leave, something stopped him. He glanced back at it, then down at the motorcycle, and finally reached for it, lifting it gently in his hands.

He would leave the past behind, eventually. But not yet.

The diner was buzzing with energy that night, the neon lights of the sign reflecting off the windows, casting a soft glow over the entire street. It was a celebratory evening—the diner’s anniversary—and the air was thick with excitement. The place was filled with regulars and newcomers alike, all gathered to mark another year of the diner’s success.

Bucky, Steve, and Peggy had arrived just as the boss—Mr. Riker—stood on a small makeshift stage in the center of the diner. He held a microphone in one hand, a drink in the other, and a wide grin on his face. His loud, boisterous voice echoed as he addressed the staff and patrons.

“Alright, everyone, settle down! Let’s raise our glasses and give a big round of applause to the team who keeps this place running like a well-oiled machine!” Mr. Riker shouted, a cheer rising from the crowd.

Bucky stood at the back, leaning against the counter, a bottle of beer in hand. He glanced over at Steve and Peggy, both of them smiling, clearly enjoying the moment. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and camaraderie, a stark contrast to the world outside.

Mr. Riker’s gaze swept over the crowd, and when he saw you, he called you out by name. “And let’s give a special round of applause to our star employee, [Y/N], for another fantastic year! You’ve done a great job, kid. Couldn’t have done it without you!” he bellowed, raising his glass.

The room erupted into applause, and you, who had been busy behind the counter, froze for a moment before a wide grin spread across your face. You blushed, ducking your head shyly, but then straightened up and waved to the crowd.

“You earned it, [Y/N]!” Steve called from the booth, raising his glass to you.

You walked over to their table, your face still flushed from the attention, and joined them for a moment. “Can’t believe he made such a big deal about it,” you laughed, sitting down next to Bucky.

Bucky smiled, looking at you with warmth in his eyes. “Well, you’ve earned it,” he said quietly.

Mr. Riker called out to you again, and you hesitated for just a moment before heading back to the stage, your heart pounding at the attention. The old man handed you a small trophy, a token of appreciation for your hard work. You thanked him with a smile, and as you turned to go back to the counter, you locked eyes with Bucky.

In that moment, Bucky saw something in you—a determination to make the most of the life you had, no matter what came your way. It was the same feeling he had when he joined the military, the same sense of purpose that drove them all.

⠀

The diner was buzzing with energy that night, the neon lights of the sign reflecting off the windows, casting a soft glow over the entire street. It was a celebratory evening—the diner’s anniversary—and the air was thick with excitement. The place was filled with regulars and newcomers alike, all gathered to mark another year of the diner’s success.

Bucky, Steve, and Peggy had arrived just as the boss—Mr. Riker—stood on a small makeshift stage in the center of the diner. He held a microphone in one hand, a drink in the other, and a wide grin on his face. His loud, boisterous voice echoed as he addressed the staff and patrons.

“Alright, everyone, settle down! Let’s raise our glasses and give a big round of applause to the team who keeps this place running like a well-oiled machine!” Mr. Riker shouted, a cheer rising from the crowd.

Bucky stood at the back, leaning against the counter, a bottle of beer in hand. He glanced over at Steve and Peggy, both of them smiling, clearly enjoying the moment. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and camaraderie, a stark contrast to the world outside.

Mr. Riker’s gaze swept over the crowd, and when he saw you, he called you out by name. “And let’s give a special round of applause to our star employee, [Y/N], for another fantastic year! You’ve done a great job, kid. Couldn’t have done it without you!” he bellowed, raising his glass.

The room erupted into applause, and you, who had been busy behind the counter, froze for a moment before a wide grin spread across your face. You blushed, ducking your head shyly, but then straightened up and waved to the crowd.

“You earned it, [Y/N]!” Steve called from the booth, raising his glass to you.

You walked over to their table, your face still flushed from the attention, and joined them for a moment. “Can’t believe he made such a big deal about it,” you laughed, sitting down next to Bucky.

Bucky smiled, looking at you with warmth in his eyes. “Well, you’ve earned it,” he said quietly.

Mr. Riker called out to you again, and you hesitated for just a moment before heading back to the stage, your heart pounding at the attention. The old man handed you a small trophy, a token of appreciation for your hard work. You thanked him with a smile, and as you turned to go back to the counter, you locked eyes with Bucky.

In that moment, Bucky saw something in you—a determination to make the most of the life you had, no matter what came your way. It was the same feeling he had when he joined the military, the same sense of purpose that drove them all.

⠀

Bucky stood frozen in front of the wall, his fingers grazing over the photo. He could hear the joyous laughter from that night echo in his mind, the comforting warmth of the diner, the sense of belonging that had been there. And there you were, looking proudly at your promotion.

He swallowed hard, his chest tight as the memories flooded back. He remembered how you had smiled when Mr. Riker had given you that trophy, how you had been so happy to be part of something so simple yet so meaningful.

“Bucky?” Steve called quietly from behind him, his voice soft as he watched his friend.

Bucky didn’t respond right away. Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on the photograph, the memory of the night when things had felt whole, before the war, before everything had been shattered. The memory of a time when you didn’t know what the future held, when you could still believe that good things were possible.

Bucky gave a small nod, but Steve could see the pain in his eyes. He patted Bucky on the back, offering him the silent comfort only a long-time friend could give.

“Let’s head out, Buck,” Steve said. “You’ve done good, getting this far.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He just took one last look at the photo, as if trying to hold onto the moment, before walking away.

Today weighed heavily on Bucky’s shoulders as he wandered through the quiet confines of his quarters, the hum of the base almost comforting in its solitude. It would officially mark another year to the day since his deployment—the mission that had set in motion the chain of events that would lead to his fall, his capture, and the eventual loss of everything. He often isolated himself on this day, knowing the weight of memories would be too much to bear if he allowed them to surface fully. He didn’t want to be triggered by anything, not even the smallest reminder of how everything had crumbled, especially since the memories of her always hit the hardest on days like this.

Bucky’s quarters, though small, were a curated reflection of his inner world—a place where memories of a past long buried and fragments of an uncertain future clung to the walls, shelves, and corners. Each piece, though seemingly insignificant to the untrained eye, held a deep, personal meaning. 

His room, a stark contrast to the cold, utilitarian feel of most of the Avengers’ quarters, was adorned with small tokens of a life he could never fully reclaim, but could never completely abandon either. A shelf above his bed held an assortment of old photographs—some he had found on his own, others given to him by Steve. There were faded military pins and patches that once signified victories he no longer remembered. A stack of vinyl records, worn from use, sat beside a small turntable, a reminder of the music that helped him ground himself in the present. 

Across from his desk was a corner where a few trinkets were neatly arranged, each one an artifact of his past and the love he lost. 

There was the old watch, its surface polished but well-worn, the pendant that you had once given him, its weight ever-present around his neck, and the helmets, sitting side by side like a pair of ghosts that refused to be forgotten. And tucked away in a corner of the room, under a stack of old letters and mementos, was a small lunchbox, its faded design the only indication that time had once passed differently for him. Each of these objects, carefully displayed, was a quiet testament to a life that could never fully fade into the background—a life he tried to rebuild, one piece at a time.

Bucky sat in the quiet of his room, glancing around at the small collection of trinkets before him. Every anniversary felt the same. He tried to keep to himself, to avoid opening the floodgates of memories he still didn’t know if he was ready to face. But today, the pull of these items, these pieces of the past, was too strong.

He picked up the first object: the letter. It was the one you had written all those years ago, that letter he had never had the chance to read in person, left under his name in the post office. He had only learned of its contents after the fact, the weight of your words still reverberating in his chest. You had poured your heart out, your fears, your hopes, and your love all etched into the paper. Every word had been a part of you, left behind for him when he had been far away.

“I thought I could handle it, Bucky. But I’m lost without you.” Those words lingered in his mind as his thumb brushed over the edges of the paper. Even now, the letter felt like a lifeline—something that spoke of your love, your life without him, a life he had not been part of.

He had stored it in the old lunchbox as he had initially found it. It was worn, a little dented from years of neglect, but it still held the faint smell of something familiar. You had used it every day when you worked at the diner. You always packed it with something simple, something homey, but he could never forget the way you would tease him about his habit of sneaking a bite, claiming it was “just for her.” He chuckled softly to himself at the memory. But the lunchbox now was more than just a container for food—it was a symbol of the quiet moments you had shared, the small gestures that had meant everything.

He heard the small grating sound of the metal of his watch against the plastic of the box. Bucky had worn both the pendant and the watch nearly every day, a constant around his neck and his wrist. He had worn them shortly after finding them—he didn’t want to forget you. Both ended up being gifts from you, tokens of the love you had shared. He hadn’t realized then just how much they would come to mean to him, but now they were the only pieces of you he had left, and they served as a constant reminder of everything he had lost. The watch, especially, held more significance now. After all, he had once told you, “If you ever get lost, just look at the time. It will remind you of where you’re supposed to be.” It was almost as if he had unconsciously known—how far apart you would be, how much time would pass.

Then there was the helmet—the one he had worn alongside yours on those rides. There was something about the way you would toss your helmet on the bike and smile up at him, always daring him to race you. He remembered your competitive streak, the way you would try to outdo each other, laughing like kids with no care in the world. But that helmet had also become a reminder of how your life had carried on without him—how you had kept that spark alive even in his absence. And he hadn’t been there to witness it.

The second helmet, yours, had been left in a corner of his room, resting next to his own. That helmet had been part of a life he couldn’t reclaim, the life you had built together before the war. It was untouched, never worn again. It had been left behind the moment you had left the diner for good, the moment you had been separated. He stared at it now, as if by looking at it long enough, it might bring back some piece of you.

Finally, his eyes fell upon the photo. He had requested it, of course—he had used his connections with SHIELD to ensure it was made. It wasn’t much, but it was the last photo taken of you two together at the diner, right before he left. He hadn’t thought much of it then, but now it felt like everything. It was a candid shot, taken after the boss had congratulated everyone on the diner’s anniversary, calling them all a part of something special. He remembered the warmth in your smile, the way your eyes sparkled as you smiled so proudly with the rest of the team. It had been a celebration, and you had been so full of life, so full of hope.

He traced the edges of the photo frame now, the edges of the moment when everything was still whole, before the war had taken everything from him. The smiles, the camaraderie, the ease in the air. And you—right there, your hand resting on his shoulder, your gaze soft as you looked up at him, as if to say you had always known this day would come. But none of them knew what was coming next. None of them did.

Bucky closed his eyes, the weight of everything pressing in. Each trinket, each object was more than just a keepsake; they were fragments of a life he had once had, a life that had been ripped away without warning. His thumb brushed against the pendant again, feeling the weight of your presence in the smallest of details.

And yet, it wasn’t the objects that broke him. It was the absence.

The absence of her touch. The absence of her voice. The absence of the life they had almost had together.

His hand lingered on the pendant one last time before he stood up abruptly. His eyes burned with the sting of tears, but he refused to let them fall. This wasn’t the time. Not today.

As Bucky walked to the door, a knock interrupted his thoughts. He opened it to find Steve standing in the hallway, a quiet look of concern on his face. He held out a washed-out brown envelope, one that Bucky hadn’t seen in years.

“It’s about her, Buck. I think it’s time you read it.”

Bucky took the envelope, feeling the weight of it settle in his hands like an anchor. Steve’s words hung in the air, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, quieter.

“What is this, Steve?” Bucky had asked quietly, staring into his glass of whiskey. The room was dark, only a single lamp casting shadows over their tired faces.

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know, Buck. I found it stacked in some files. I dug through them after everything started to settle down.” He paused, glancing at Bucky. “From what I’ve read, she got herself a kid, raised him alone. Never married anyone, though. Seems like she never got over you.”

Bucky’s heart had clenched, a sharp pain shooting through his chest. “A kid?” he repeated softly, not quite sure how to process the information.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It has the address of where she was living, too.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, sliding it across the table to Bucky.“Steve…” Bucky started, his voice quiet but heavy. “Do you think she’d want to see me?” Steve’s eyes softened. “I don’t know. But I think you should go. For both of you.” He left Bucky alone to finally confront the past.

Bucky’s fingers tightened around the paper Steve had given him. The address. He had thought about it for a long time, wondering if he should visit. And now, here he was, the day of the anniversary of his departure, staring down at the small items that had kept your memory alive for so many years. They were all pieces of a life that had been lost, pieces of a world he didn’t know how to return to.

Without thinking, Bucky grabbed his jacket, stuffed the items into his pocket, and left the room. He didn’t know why, but something in him pulled him toward the address Steve had given him. Maybe it was the need for closure, or maybe it was just the desperate hope that he could still fix something that had been broken.

It didn’t take long to get there. Bucky stood awkwardly in front of the door, of a small house on the outskirts of the city, the one Steve had pointed him toward. His hand hovering just above the knocker, a deep breath catching in his chest. The house in front of him was modest, yet it exuded a warmth that contrasted with the chill in his bones. He had expected… Well, he wasn’t sure what he had expected. But not this. Not this unsettling realization that he was standing on the doorstep of a life that had gone on without him. Without her. 

The door creaked open, revealing a young man who couldn’t have been older than his early twenties. The kid’s eyes locked onto him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. His features were a mix of both you and Bucky—your warm smile, his intense blue eyes.

“Can I help you?” the young man asked, his tone cautious but not unfriendly.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to explain himself. “I… I know your mother,” he said softly. “I—she was a big part of my life. I just… I wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay.”

“You’re Bucky Barnes?” the kid asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. His gaze lingered on Bucky’s face, narrowing as if trying to reconcile the impossibly young features before him with the name he’d heard only in passing stories.

Bucky gave a tight nod, unsure how to explain the strange dichotomy of his existence. He had grown so accustomed to the looks of recognition, the flashes of realization in people’s eyes when they saw the name, but they weren’t ever supposed to look at him like this. As though he didn’t fit into this timeline, as if he was a shadow of something they couldn’t fully comprehend.

The kid blinked again, rubbing his eyes as if trying to see past the confusion. “You don’t look like him… I mean, you don’t look like what I thought you’d look like. You’re… uh… younger.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He’d always known how strange it was for people to see him like this, suspended in time. But hearing it from this kid—your child—made the reality hit harder than he expected.

“I’m… well, I’m me,” Bucky said, his words catching awkwardly in the air. “I’m not sure how to explain everything in a short-time manner.”

The kid gave a half-grin, still clearly unsure of how to process the situation. “I'm Brian, by the way. My… My mom talked about you a lot when I was younger. She, uh… she told me stories. About what you were like. About the war. But… yeah. I didn’t expect you to look like this.”

Bucky nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. He could only imagine the picture she had painted of him—the one full of heroism, of someone who had been lost and never returned. It felt surreal, standing in front of this kid—Brian, knowing the stories he had lived, the person who had lived them, were already being mythologized in a way that left no room for reality. No room for him.

“I’m not what you expected,” Bucky muttered, his gaze lowering to his boots.

The kid hesitated before nodding slowly. “Yeah, but I guess we’re all kinda… different from what we expected, right?”

Bucky looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something in those eyes, a flicker of understanding, even if the connection wasn’t fully there. He gave a small, reluctant smile.

“I guess so,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

Before either of them could say anything else, Brian stepped aside, motioning for Bucky to come in. Bucky entered slowly, still feeling the weight of the strangeness in the air.

They sat down at a small kitchen table, his host graciously offering him a drink, though the silence between them felt like an awkward chasm.

“I found this,” Bucky finally said, breaking the silence as he pulled out the pendant and the watch from his jacket. He laid them both on the table, the weight of the objects too heavy to ignore.

Brian's eyes widened when he saw the pendant. “That’s… that’s hers, right? She wore that watch all the time.” His voice softened, nostalgia creeping in.

Bucky nodded, his fingers brushing over the pendant. “She gave it to me… before everything happened.” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “I guess I never really let go of… her. Or of this time.”

Brian took a long look at the watch, his fingers grazing the surface. “Mom always said you had a way of fixing things, even when you didn’t know how. She always said… she always said you two had something special.”

Bucky’s heart twisted painfully. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering your embrace, your smile, and the way you had held him together when everything felt like it was falling apart. “She did,” he whispered. “She did.”

The kid paused, lowering the watch. “You know, she… she never really got over you. After you… after you left, she said she couldn’t love anyone else. Not the way she loved you.”

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat. His mind raced, the ache of the past creeping up on him like a familiar ghost. “She didn’t… she didn’t ever find anyone?”

His host slowly shook his head. “No, but she always kept a picture of you. A picture from back then. And when I was old enough, she told me what happened. What you were to her.”

A long silence filled the room. The only sound was the ticking of the old clock on the wall, a clock that felt as old as the time Bucky had lost.

Finally, the kid took a deep breath. “She passed away a couple of years ago. Sickness, they said. She was… she was still waiting for you, in a way. She never got the closure she needed.”

Bucky felt his chest tighten as the weight of those words settled on him. He had never been able to return to you, to explain why he couldn’t. He had never been able to give you the closure she deserved.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he stared down at the pendant.

Brian offered a small, sad smile. “She would have wanted you to have it,” he said softly, pushing the pendant toward Bucky. “She said you two were supposed to have a life together.”

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat. He took the pendant, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was finally holding onto something that mattered.

Bucky stood before the grave, his gaze lost in the stillness of the moment. For this special trip, Bucky had gone to great lengths to revive the Harley Davidson WLA, the very motorcycle you had ridden together back in the day. He’d spent weeks tinkering with the old engine, fixing what had long since rusted and repairing the frame that had seen better days. The machine, a symbol of freedom and youth, had been one of the last things you shared before the world turned upside down. The engine roared back to life with a strength Bucky hadn’t realized he missed so much. It was almost as though the bike itself had memories of your time together—memories that called to him as strongly as his own heart. Today, the rumble of the Harley beneath him felt like a ghost of the past, the leather seat still carrying the imprint of your presence, as if you had just been there beside him.

His hands trembled as he placed the flowers—those same flowers he had brought you on your first date—gently down. They were bright and delicate, the scent of spring still lingering on them. He found that they smelled like your perfume, and he could almost hear you teasing him about being overly romantic, the faintest smile tugging at his lips despite the heavy weight in his chest.

Next to the flowers, he placed your helmet. The same one you had worn when you would ride together on his motorcycle. He had kept it safe, just as he had with all the little things that reminded him of you. The wind in your hair, the blur of the world around you as you sped down the road, laughing and free. It felt like another lifetime now.

The lake stretched before him, eerily still, its surface reflecting the blue sky above. This had always been your place—the place where you had shared so many firsts. Your first kiss. The first time he realized how deeply he loved you. The memory of your hands brushing for the first time, his heart racing faster than any mission he had ever been on. He had promised you then that no matter what happened, he would always return to this spot.

Now, standing there, it felt like that promise had never been broken. The watch, which he had carried for so long as a symbol of their time together, had somehow led him back here, to this moment. His fingers traced the glass of the watch, almost as though reassuring himself that it wasn’t just a memory—that it was real.

He placed the watch beside the flowers and the helmet, his hand lingering on the cold stone of your grave. The inscription was simple—just your name and the years of your life—but the words "always remembered" etched beneath it filled the space with everything he had never been able to say.

Always remembered, he whispered under his breath, his voice breaking slightly. I should’ve been here sooner… I’m sorry.

Closing his eyes, Bucky allowed himself to remember. He could hear your laugh, feel your warmth, the touch of your hand in his. He let the memories flood him—of the times he held you close, of the moments you shared. He had vowed to come back. Life, war, and everything in between had taken you from him, and he had failed.

I should’ve kept my promise… I should’ve been here.

A wave of guilt washed over him, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against the stone of your grave. A kiss, just like the one you shared when you first kissed, the promise still lingering in the air between you. He had made that promise all those years ago, and he had come back, even if it was too late.

He let his fingers linger for a moment on the mementos of your lives before he stood up straight. The breeze picked up around him, as if it was your presence, wrapping him in the warmth of your memory.

The world around him seemed to fall away as the memories took over, his mind traveling back to those days.

He was lost in his thoughts and memories, though they were blurred. His legs moved before him, but he didn’t pay attention to the direction he was heading.

He closed his eyes again. He wanted to remember your features, your face, the sound of your soft voice, your divine laugh, and your sweet smile that always had a way of drawing him in. He wanted to remember the teasing remarks, the little shivers he felt whenever you were close, the feel of your hair as he imagined running his fingers through it.

He tried, unsuccessfully, to recall every moment you shared, like the time when he held your hand, and the joy he felt at that moment was evident in the way his eyes shone, his smile stretching across his face.

He wanted to feel once more the frantic beating of his heart whenever you were too close, the warmth that rose to his cheeks the moment you touched, and your lips pressing against his.

Unknowingly, he had stopped in front of the lake in the municipal park, his gaze focused on the water, disappointed not to see you standing by, ready to greet him with that radiant smile.

He longed to hear your words whispered in his ear, to hold you in his arms one last time and feel the warmth of your body against his. His teeth bit down on his lip, and he forced his eyes shut, his brows furrowed, his fists clenched.

All those years lost with you, the keeper of my joy, the one who taught me to love.

To you, my dearest, the one I cherished more than the very sight of my eyes, I now press my hand firmly against my chest in gratitude and forgiveness.

We will meet again one day or in another life, and I will gladly fulfill your request. But for now, I am just a prisoner of my actions, exhausted by life, angry at myself, trembling at having forgotten such a promise.

I am nothing but a coward. I couldn’t keep a simple promise, and it weighed heavily on my heart, my satisfaction, and my happiness.

⠀

The reflection of the ice on the ground felt so empty without the sight of you beside him.

⠀

THE END.. ?

⠀

ending notes : It looks like you chose the bad ending. Try again!

Thank you for joining this wondrous ride, i hope it was up to your expectations. it has certainly been a hectic night for me to write the entire story and set up each post, but i can now rest in peace knowing that I hopefully broke your hearts and finally ended the story.

..or has it really ended?

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dividers ©️ @chachachannah + @vesearartistry .

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PART ONE. l PREVIOUS PART.

[chasing-classics]

Our Little Secret Sessions- Nate Jacobs x Reader (2)

Pairing(s): Nate Jacobs x Reader

  Warning(s): SMUT, language, toxic relationships, older reader, NON-CON

  Summary: After landing a job as the high school’s new counselor you settle into your new home, unaware of what danger lurks just outside your front door. In Part Two, you meet another one of your students, only to be interrupted by the boy next door.

Part 1

 A couple of weeks had passed since your encounter with Nate, but the fear of what the teenage was capable of remained fresh in your mind. You could never forget the dominant, controlling look in his eyes when he had threatened you in your office. Since then, you had been unable to sleep properly and you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder. On the bright side, you had not encountered him face-to-face since that day, but his presence could always be felt never too far away. He was like some sort of predator, a beast lurking in a dense jungle. Eyes sharp and ready to go in for the kill at any moment.

 ‘’Um miss?’’ a voice broke you out of your thoughts.

 You quickly snapped your head up, sitting straight up in your office chair as a young girl stood in the doorway. She was average height for her age, dark hair, glamorous makeup, and full lips. You had seen her walking down the hall a few times, an air of confidence always surrounding her. She reminded you of the girls you hated when you were in high school.

  ‘’I’m so sorry, please come in,’’ you extended your hand, gesturing to one of the empty chairs or the couch in front of your desk. She nodded, shutting the door behind her as she made herself comfortable.

 ‘’I’m sorry, I’m still getting used to everything here. I’m Miss y/l/n,’’ you held out your hand for her to shake. She looked down at it before slowly returning the gesture. Whether she just wasn’t used to people being polite to her or she just didn’t like you, you weren’t sure.

 ‘’Maddy,’’ she replied, her expression unreadable.

 ‘’Well how can I help you Maddy?’’ you offered a kind smile despite her semi-cold attitude.

 Her eyes flickered, searching for the right words to express her thoughts. Your brow furrowed as she visibly struggled.

 ‘’This is a safe place Maddy, whatever you tell me stays between us,’’ you encouraged.

 She bit down on her lip, hands twisting and fumbling in her lap as her leg bounced. Finally, she met your concerned gaze with a sigh.

 ‘’Do you think sexuality is a spectrum?’’ she blurted out.

  The question took you back, it taking everything in your for your mouth to stay shut.

  ‘’Well, in my opinion it certainly can be. There doesn’t necessarily have to be a one-size-fits-all or black and white approach to it. But I really think it depends on you and your preferences-‘’

 ‘’N-no. Not me,’’ she cut you off, still seemingly nervous. You arched a brow, trying to decipher what she was talking about.

 ‘’Is everything ok, Maddy?’’

  ‘’Look there’s this. . .guy who I’m seeing. And I found-‘’

 Knocking on your door made the two of you jump. A lump formed in your throat when the handle twisted and the door opened, revealing none other than Nate fucking Jacobs.

 You quickly cast a glance at Maddy who, for some reason or another, looked almost as petrified as you felt.

 ‘’Oh sorry Miss y/l/n, I didn’t know you were busy,’’ Nate practically hissed out the last word as his gaze fell upon Maddy.

  ‘’Mister Jacobs, I’m with Maddy right now. If you’d like we can schedule a meeting-‘’

 ‘’No! No, it’s ok, miss. I’ll be late for class anyway,’’ Maddy scrambled to collect her bag and rush out the door.

 ‘’I can write you a hallpass,’’ your words jumbled, practically pleading with the girl to stay so that you were not left alone with this sociopath. The smirk on Nate’s face made your blood run cold.

 Maddy murmured a quick ‘’bye’’ before the door shut closed behind Nate’s lanky figure. He scoffed, steadily turning his attention back to you as you shakily stood.

 ‘’You can’t just show up like that. I have a job to do and anyone could-‘’

 ‘’Take your pants off,’’ he abruptly interrupted you.

 A pitiful squeak, similar to that of a puny mouse cornered in a snake pit, escaped your lips as the air left your lungs.

 ‘’What?’’ you felt your heart began to beat faster as Nate took a step towards you after locking your door, sealing your fate.

 ‘’I said, take your pants off. And bend over your desk,’’ his deep voice shook you to your core.

 ‘’Nate, please,’’ you whispered, trying to sum up as much courage and dominance as you could as you stood straight and met his terrifying gaze.

 He didn’t respond as his hands descended on you. One locked itself onto the back of your neck and played with your hair as the other began to roughly grope your breasts through your flimsy shirt. His mouth pressed rough, hearted kissed onto the column of your neck as his breath fanned hot flames onto your soft skin. You felt paralyzed as his grip tightened, you having to bite your lips from crying out.

 You jumped when his large hand made its’ way underneath your shirt and the material of your bra. He easily captured a nipple between his index and middle finger and began to pinch and squeeze and tug on the sensitive bud, expertly rolling it however way he sought fit.

  ‘’L-leave,’’ you whispered. Half of you was praying and the other was making a rather pathetic attempt to reestablish authority over him.

 ‘’If I walk out that door, everyone will know how you slept with a student,’’ he threatened, biting at the soft juncture between your neck and shoulder, making you hiss in pain.

 ‘’I didn’t know!’’ you whimpered, cursing the way your body reacted to both his touch and his voice.

 Your nipples were overstimulated at this point, any rubbing against your bra or touch from Nate’s fingers had you mewling like a helpless kitten. Your knees locked together as you felt the heat expand downward from your arousal.

  ‘’The sooner you give in, the sooner I leave. The less chance you have of someone catching us,’’ he groaned, grinding his thickness into your lower abdomen so you felt what was awaiting you.

  You let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as you nervously fumbled with your jeans. Nate all but growled when he saw the delicate lace material that hid your womanhood. His breathing labored and his cock twitched. Since he had last had you he had messed around with Maddy a few times, trying to placate his urges, trying to forget about his attractive new neighbor and school counselor. But something about you, the way you were allured him to you. He found himself craving you, imagining your cries and moans as he thrusted wildly into Maddy. He found himself becoming rougher at the thought of having you once again, all to himself. His little taboo. Today, he found he couldn’t wait any longer and found himself at your office door, ready to continue your secret little sessions.

 By the time your jeans had pooled around your ankles and your underwear shortly followed, your boots providing you with a little more height than usual, Nate grew tired of waiting. He shoved your paperwork, cleverly unhooking your phone in case anyone called, and shoved you down by your neck so that your body was painfully bent over the unforgiving surface.

 Your cheek pressed against the wood of the desk, your eyes searching for anything to focus on as you tried to block out the jingling of his belt and the sound of his zipper being pulled down. You felt the heat of his cock at your entrance as Nate folded himself onto you, his breath hitting your cheek and neck as his toned abs gently grazed your spine and ass.

 ‘’Be quiet,’’ he warned, one massive hand wrapping around your face to cover your mouth. You winced as he spit down onto your spread pussy, using his thumb as makeshift lubricate. He hummed in approval at the feel of your arousal and you didn’t need to face him to know he had a chesire cat grin on his pale face. You could feel him retreat his hips before he lunged forward and sheathed his massive dick into your tight canal. You screamed against his hand, although it was practically just muffled mewls given his tight grip as he began rotating his hips, stretching your tightness to welcome whatever he was about to give you.

 ‘’Shhhh, good girl, look at you taking it like a champ,’’ he mocked as he reluctantly pulled out, only to violently snap forward, your body lunging with his brutal movements.

 Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you were ashamed to admit they were in pleasure. The feeling of complete fulness outweighed the pain, but you made a pitiful attempt to reach behind you and shove him back. You yelped as his other hand locked your wrists and pinned them to the small of your back, your body helpless and completely on display as Nate continued his brutal pace. He felt every quiver, every squeeze that your sweet pussy gave him. He nearly came within the first few minutes of being inside of you, but he managed to hold off. The way you squealed under him, your smaller body rocking in tune with his thrusts, and the way your tight pink pussy latched onto him to the point he dragged your body back as he pulled out was nothing that he had ever had before. He pressed more of his weight into you, trying to keep his own grunts and moans quiet as he gripped your face and wrists.

 ‘’So good,’’ he kept repeating in your neck as he hammered into you. The wet noises and sound of his hips violently meeting your backside filled you with fear that someone would come in and catch you. Your squealing and cries slowly transformed into needy moans and whimpers, you faintly acknowledged your juices beginning to drip down your inner thighs and you felt your insides begin to coil.

 ‘’N-Nate,’’ you breathlessly cried against his palm, attempting to suck in as much air through your nose as you could. He bite down on your shoulder, tongue lapping at the faint angry marks, groaning as his pace did not let out. He was impossibly thick and girthy, filling you and hitting your cervix with every ram of his hips. Your hands twitched and knees buckled as his cock began throbbing along your velvet walls. You couldn’t help but squeeze him as your own climax began to form, causing him to hiss against your shoulder.

  ‘’Gonna fill you up, oh fuck,’’ you faintly deciphered him growling out as you were forced to take his thrusts.

 Your clit throbbed almost painfully, knuckles turning lighter as your fists clenched against your back. He abruptly released your wrists, opting to clutch the curve of your hip as he forced your body back to meet his awaiting thrusts, making you cry out every time he angrily entered you. As you cried out with each thrust, he groaned, feeling your release incredibly close. He angled his hips slightly higher and dove in, grinning as he heard your moans, your pussy locking onto his dick as your orgasm coated him. He slowed his pace just to watch the way he glistened from your juices, enjoying the sinful squelching noises you both produced as he shoved himself repeatedly into you, before regaining his violent momentum.

 His grip on you tightened impossibly as you lay limp underneath him, lost in the waves of your release. All you felt was your body being forced back and forth as Nate impaled you onto his angry member. You swore you saw actual stars bouncing around your vision before you were forced back down into reality as he removed his hand from your mouth (finally) and gripped your throat. Through his animalistic movements he angled your face back to meet his in a bruising, possessive kiss as he ensured every inch of him was buried to the hilt inside of you as he shuddered. You groaned as the warmth of his cum filled your abused pussy. He moved against you one last time before slowly pulling you out and stuffing himself back into his jeans and zipping it back up. You winced when you felt a finger trace your lower lips and shove some of his load back into your sore pussy.

 ‘’Get dressed,’’ his voice conveyed his relaxation and his gaze was surprising soft as he helped you stand up.

 You didn’t speak as you redressed, your face still flushed with a postcoital glow. He tucked some of your hair out of your face as his eyes searched yours, his thoughts unreadable. But just as his expression lingered on borderline affection, that cruel teenage-boy smirk reappeared as his hand thumbed the base of your neck in a warning grip.

 ‘’I’m going to need that hall pass.’’

[todoscript]

SEQUEL TO  “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

.

.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

.

.

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

.

.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

.

.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta’s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

[redpandaramblings]

A Matter of Admiration Alpha Gang Orca x Omega f!Reader

Hello Hello! Here is my very VERY late submission for the SFW portion of Spudcorner's Valentine Blood and Chocolate Collab. This was meant to be a two page drabble. 13 pages later it's a bit more than that. Regardless, I do hope you enjoy!

Sequel/Epilogue Here

Content Warnings- Omegaverse, SFW, Insecurities, Misunderstandings, Pining, Fluff, Lots of food mentioned, Kugo being very down on himself, very minor mention of blood and stitches needed.

“Really? Again?”

The large alpha seemed to shrink under your judgemental glare.

“I am sorry, Y/N. The fight got intense and it slipped off. Someone must have stepped on it.”

You sighed heavily, your gaze turning to the workbench where the shattered remains of your creation sat. This was your seventh attempt at outfitting Gang Orca with a communicator headset. It was dangerous for him to keep fishing for a handheld during the heat of battle. Unfortunately, his lack of outer ear made keeping a headset on him difficult. Shaking your head, you gave a small smile.

“Not your fault, Sakamata. We knew this was going to be tricky. Though at this rate I’m tempted to just glue a headset on you and call it a day.”

Kugo snorted, his posture relaxing. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I hate to see your hard work go to waste.”

“It’s not a waste if I learn something from it. This one lasted a couple weeks of normal patrol work, so that’s an improvement. We just need to figure out what was different about this fight. So, sit. Talk.”

Kugo shook his head with an amused huff. He admitted he had been slightly dubious when you had first come to his agency. He’d encountered many hero support workers claiming to specialize in mutation quirks that seemed to be looking for lab rats for their creations. However, you always listened to what he said, and made suggestions that would actually make his job easier. You made sure your support items not only were functional, but comfortable at well. If the few years you had worked for him, he was pleased to say you had become good friends.

“I can’t right now, Y/N. I need to get cleaned up, then complete my report before I forget the details. I’ll come back first thing tomorrow.” You frowned, tapping your foot. Kugo fought to keep a neutral expression. You’d never forgive him if you knew how much he enjoyed your expressions when you were annoyed.

“Alright. Fine. First thing tomorrow. But make sure you get some rest tonight, you’ve been working too hard lately!”

Sakamata waved a hand in answer as he walked out the workshop door. He’d try to follow your request, but a hero’s work is never done.

~~~~~

Gang Orca shuffled through the door to his agency with an aura of gloom about him. In the past five days, he had broken five more communicators, gotten into several serious fights, and had allowed a villain to escape. And that was just his work life. Some of his friends had set him up for a speed dating session. He didn’t blame them for trying, but it ended exactly how he knew it would. Most of the omegas who had been present were scared of him, and those that weren’t were clearly only interested in his pro hero paycheck. Kugo trudged toward his office, his thoughts gloomy. A man with a quirk like his would never have a normal courtship. It hurt sometimes. How nice it would be to come home to a sweet smelling omega. What wouldn’t he give to home filled with pups, and laughter and love? He sighed softly as he swung his door open. Such a life was not meant for him, so no point in even dreaming. On autopilot, he hung his coat on the coat rack, and turned to set his briefcase on his desk. However, the desk was already occupied. Kugo tilted his head as he stared at the object resting on his desk. It appeared to be a large bento box, wrapped in a rather feminine handkerchief, patterned with some sort of flowers. Kugo set his briefcase down on a chair before coming closer to investigate. Gingerly, he untied the knot, setting the cloth aside as he looked at the contents curiously.

First and most obviously, was the strawberry shaped sticky note attached to the top. “You looked like you had been having a rough week. I hope this can make it better!” The writing was… painstakingly cute. The “i”s were dotted with little hearts. Each letter having just a little bit of flourish, while still being legible.

Kugo hummed quietly to himself. Clearly this had been left on his desk by mistake. A bit awkward, considering his name was on the door, but there was no other explanation. He drummed his fingers on the desk as he considered his options. He could take a guess at who the bento was for. There were several popular alpha heroes working for him that got their share of gifts from admirers. The soft omegan scent coming from the handkerchief that had wrapped the bento was a solid clue the gift was likely meant for one of them. But really, there was no way to tell for sure who it was supposed to end up with, and he really didn’t want the hard work to go to waste. Yes. Best thing would be to eat the bento, and place the box in the break room with a note inside the box apologizing.

His course of action decided, Kugo opened the bento, quietly sucking a breath as he saw what was inside. There were sausages cut to look like little octopi. A large slab of teriyaki salmon. Rice balls shaped like teddy bear heads, complete with little seaweed faces. He tried to tamp down his delight at seeing over half of the bento was dedicated to tamagoyaki. While he lived up to his stereotype of loving fish, the egg dish was a secret favorite of his; something his mother had made for him whenever he had a bad day when he was growing up. The second layer of the bento had even more. Rice, vegetables, and surprisingly a small but adorable piece of cake. Kugo put the bento back together with a small smile on his face. Perhaps it wasn’t meant for him, but it had been a long time since he had been able to enjoy something like this- cute and homemade, clearly filled with a great deal of care. He couldn’t quite feel guilty as he looked forward to lunch. He could pretend, just this once, that a sweet smelling omega had put so much care into something for him.

~~~~~~

Later that day, when most of the day team had left, Kugo made his way to the common break room. He carefully cleaned out the bento box in the sink, setting it to the side to dry. He folded the handkerchief it had came in, and placed it next to the box before sighing. He was in the process of scribbling a brief apology note when he heard a cough. He glanced up to see y/n leaning against the doorway.

“You okay, chief? Thought your shift ended an hour ago.”

Kugo nodded as he placed his note on top of the handkerchief. “Yes, just had a few things I needed to wrap up. What about you? I know you were supposed to be done several hours ago now.”

You fidgeted, embarrassed, shrugging your shoulders as you glanced away. “Had an idea for how to improve a few items and, well, you know how I get when I have a project. But what have you got there? You never struck me as the homemade lunch type.”

It was Kugo’s turn to look uncomfortable as he shuffled from foot to foot. “It was left on my desk this morning by mistake. I had no way of knowing who it was actually meant for, and I didn’t want it going to waste, so I ate it.”

You frowned as you walked into the room, opening cupboards and starting to retrieve things to make tea. You held a mug up toward Kugo in a silent question, grabbing a second one when he nodded. You were quiet for a few moments, going through the motions. After a while you asked “How are you so sure it wasn’t for you?”

Kugo snorted, leaning back against the counter and gesturing at himself. “Omegas aren’t exactly lined up around the block. I don’t place high on the ‘heroes that look most like villains’ list every year for no reason. Some unfortunate omega got confused about whose office was whose. It’s a shame I couldn’t give it to whoever it was meant for, it was a beautifully crafted bento.” Kugo doesn’t mention the note. Kugo especially doesn’t mention the note had found its way into his desk drawer to save as a memory of how nice it had been to receive the bento, even if it was an accident.

You laughed, passing him a steaming cup of tea, made just how he liked. “Sakamata, don’t talk down about yourself like that. You’re big, strong, and prime alpha material. You’re one of the top heroes! And even more importantly, you’re a gentle kind man that any omega would be lucky to have. I’d bet good money that that bento absolutely was made just for you.”

“A nice thought, but I doubt it. You’ll see. In a few days I bet a bento will make its way to who it was meant for.”

~~~~~~

Kugo stood stock still in the doorway to his office. Sitting on his desk was another cloth wrapped package. Once was a mistake, clearly. But two days in a row? Why on Earth was there another bento on his desk? He approached the desk and slide the bento to him. He untied the scented fabric with care. A cat shaped note greeted him.

“I’m sorry if it wasn’t clear before, Sakamata. I wanted to make this for you because I admire you so much. I’m not always great at saying my feelings, so I hope my cooking says enough.”

This was… for him. The bentos… were for him? He sat in his chair, leaning his head against his hands as he regarded the innocent looking lunch. If it wasn’t a mistake, then what could it be? Probably a fortune hunting omega trying to get in his good graces, if he went off his past experience. Though usually those types of omegas were more likely to offer favors of a different sort. Kugo winced as another thought occurred to him. There was a good chance this omega pitied him. Ugly, intimidating, unmatable. Someone had seen him and decided he needed looking after because clearly he’d never get someone on his own. Yes. That had to be it. He should leave the bento in the break room and end this farce as soon as possible.

His mind made up, Kugo picked up the bundle to do exactly that. The subtle smell of the contents hit his sensitive nose, causing him to salivate. Tempura? Definitely egg. Well, it would be a shame to not even look inside to make sure.

Clearly just as much care had gone into this one as the last one. The rice balls were shaped like little cat heads, to match the note. An assortment of tempura seemed to be the main dish, cute cat shaped food picks stuck in some of them. There were even paw print shaped gummy candies for the dessert. Every inch of the lunch was absolutely adorable. And it was all done for him. There was no way Kugo could let it go to waste. It hurt to know it was a gift given out of pity, but maybe, just for a while, he could pretend there was someone out there who loved him like this. The omega would grow tired of this eventually. Until then, he’d let himself enjoy this.

~~~~~

It was surprising how easily this had become routine. Every day when Kugo walked into his office, there was a new bento waiting for him. And every day he’d unwrap the bento, indulging a brief moment in the cutely patterned handkerchiefs. Every bento was unique and cute. They seemed to show a good understanding of his tastes and preferences. It was a pleasant break on the quiet days and a welcome comfort on the rough days. Each day there was a sweet written note that Kugo gently stored in his desk drawer. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

~~~~~~~

Kugo hated attending charity events. It wasn’t the charities, he always supported good causes. It wasn’t the dressing up, or the fancy atmosphere. It was the people. While a few of his friends were around somewhere, there were many many others who didn’t know him well. Others who were intimidated by his appearance. Others who apparently had no idea just how sharp his hearing was.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe Gang Orca is here.”

“I know! Well, I suppose he is a hero. Allegedly, anyway.”

“Did he come with anyone?”

“Of course not. I mean ew. Look at him. Can you imagine cosying up to that at the end of the day?”

“I know! And those teeth! If he tried to bond someone, he’d take their head clean off!”

“As if anyone would want to bond with that.”

“I don’t know. He’s in the top ten pretty often. He has to be loaded, right?”

“Would have to be a lot for me to even consider it.”

“It could be all the money and I still wouldn’t!”

“Oh don’t say that! Poor bastard can’t help he’s unmatable.”

Kugo walked away from the refreshment table as he tried to tune out the unkind comments and mocking laughter. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. He knew full well what he looked like. He had had enough failed courting attempts to know exactly what omegas thought of him. But it still stung. Stung more than usual, actually. The daily bentos with their scented cloths and cute little notes had almost made him forget. The only omegas who were interested either pitied him, or wanted his money. He could never forget that.

~~~~~

What he could forget, apparently, was that the number two pro hero was scheduled to be at his office the morning after the charity gala. Kugo stifled a sigh when he saw the red winged hero waiting outside his agency’s door. Of course he’d have to deal with this on a day when he wasn’t in the best of moods. “Orca! My man, good to see you again!”

Kugo nodded as he held the door open. “Hawks.”

“Didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party last night. You know how it is. Go to one of those things when you're single, and you get swarmed.”

Kugo gave a non committal grunt. No, he didn’t know. He just wanted this morning to be over with. He perked up slightly as he saw you hurrying down the hallway toward them. Hawks gave a low whistle. “Who's the babe?” Kugo half growled. “That is Miss Y/N. The support item engineer you allegedly came here to see. You will be respectful and refrain from flirting with my staff.”

Keigo held up his hands and laughed. “Hey now big guy, don’t mean any offense. Just saying you’re lucky to get to work with that every day.”

Kugo jerked his head in an abbreviated nod. You slowed down your quick walk as you got closer, not wanting to interrupt the heroes’s conversation. Kugo waved you closer. You smiled at him so brightly as you joined the group. Yes. He was lucky to work with a friend such as you. Kugo’s nerves started to cool a bit as he introduced you and the three of you began to make your way to his office. Hawk’s casual questions were more inquisitive than flirty, and Kugo knew from long experience just how much you enjoyed being able to talk in depth about your work. He was smiling by the time he opened the door to his office, ushering the two or you in. Hawk’s next words hit him like a bucket of cold water to the face.

“Dang! Either you got one hell of a cafeteria service at this agency, or Gang Orca has himself quite an admirer. Delivered right to your desk, pretty bold, man! That’s exactly why I keep my door locked. There’s only so much lunch a man can eat, am I right?”

The bento. He had forgotten about the stupid bento. There it sat, as always. The handkerchief was especially cute today, some sort of pattern with teddy bears hugging and kissing. Any other day, the sight would have calmed him. Any other day he would have sat down and quickly poked through to see what surprises lay inside that day, would have read the note meant just for him with a smile.

But today was different. Others were in his office. The number two hero, handsome and popular. His support engineer, pretty enough to probably have plenty of suitors of her own. And then there was him. Large. Scary. Consistently told he looks like a villain. Has never had a relationship that wasn’t pitying or profiteering. Kugo remembered the whispered remarks from the party. Usually he’d be able to brush off Hawks’s commentary. But today…

Kugo snarled, his scent agitated as he swept his arm across the desk, knocking the bento roughly into the trash. “They are a nuisance that need to cease! I’m so tired of some desperate piting omega shoving their unwanted, unneeded efforts at me! Enough is enough!” At the end his voice was raised to a shout. He was dimly aware of his nails digging deeply into his palms. Kugo leaned on the desk, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. He could hear the others shuffling behind him awkwardly.

“Come on,” You murmured and lightly tugged on Keigo’s sleeve. “How about I show you my lab and take some measurements before we get started.”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah.” Keigo allowed you to lead him away. You softly closed the door behind you. Kugo remained, hunched and breathing raggedly. It took him several minutes to calm down. It took him a few minutes beyond that to gather the nerve to make the trek down to the support lab. He slipped into the room as inconspicously as a man with his fram could manage. You were taking measurements off of Keigo and muttering to yourself as you tapped out notes on your tablet. Keigo noticed Kugo’s entrance and greeted him cautiously. “You good?” Kugo nodded. “I… apologize. It’s been a rather trying week, but I should have composed myself better.”

Keigo waved him off. “No worries, man, no worries. Y/n was just telling me she thinks that she’ll be able to rig up something for me that would help slow my fall in situations where my wings get damaged.”

You hummed an affirmative, taking a few more measurements before you started describing your process. Kugo couldn’t help but notice you didn’t look his way. You looked at the ground, at your tablet, at Keigo, but you were clearly avoiding Kugo’s gaze. He mentally winced as he settled onto an out of the way stool. It was rare for him to have that kind of emotional outburst. It probably could be heard even from outside his office. He’d make sure to apologize to you better when he got the chance. But for now, it was looking like it would be a long, awkward day. Goodie.

~~~~~

Kugo growled under his breath the next morning when he saw the cloth wrapped bundle sitting on his desk. Yesterday’s embarrassment was still fresh in his mind as he stalked forward. His thick fingers quickly untied the surprisingly unpatterned piece of fabric. There, under the cloth, on top of the box, was a note as there always was. Kugo’s anger was cooled by confusion when he saw it, however. The paper was a plain yellow post-it note. Instead of the painstakingly cute handwriting with the heart dotted “i’s, there was a clearly hasty scrawl.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to annoy you. This will be the last one.”

Kugo frowned, shifting in his seat. Clearly the bento maker had heard about his outburst from yesterday. That was… unfortunate. But perhaps for the best, since he had no way of directly telling them to cease their nonsense. Unconsciously, his hand balled up the handkerchief and as he had been doing for a while, he scented it.

The cloth had a slight smell of salt to it. Tears, Kugo realized uncomfortably. The smell of tears slightly diluted the normal soothing smell of whoever had carefully packaged these bentos. He had little appetite as he looked over what was there. Tempura. Salmon. Vegetables. A large portion of tamagoyaki. But the part that caused an uncomfortable weight to settle in his chest was the little red box, filled with slightly clumsy, clearly homemade chocolates. Kugo closed his eyes, sighing as he set the box to the side to wait for lunch. This was good. This was what he wanted, to be left alone instead of some kind hearted omega taking pity on him. He had lived a long time without homemade bentos and little notes. He certainly didn’t want the small offering of chocolates. When lunchtime came, he certainly didn’t linger over the food longer than usual, savoring each bite. He tried to tell himself that this was for the best. That this was what he wanted. He refused to think about why he tucked the handkerchief and the box of chocolates into his desk drawer instead of leaving them in the break room as usual.

The next day as Kugo opened his office door, he looked toward his desk out of habit; searching for the lunch that had been left. His chest gave an uncomfortable lurch when he found the desk was bare. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. This was fine. This was what he wanted. The sooner he forgot about all this nonsense, the sooner things would return to normal. He settled into his chair and began sifting through the paperwork he had to deal with. No better way to take his mind off his troubling thoughts and distract the whine of his inner alpha. He was certain. Things would be back to normal soon.

Two weeks later, Kugo listlessly picked at the limp lettuce of the poor excuse of a salad that he had picked up at a convenience store. He sighed, putting the lid back on the barely touched meal resolving to throw it away when he next passed a garbage can. He didn’t like to admit it, but he missed the carefully planned meals. Wondering what cute surprise was going to be next. It was nice that someone thought he might enjoy seeing animal shaped onigiri and cheesecake flavored kit kats. His alpha whimpered when he thought about the contented omega scent that gently perfumed every handkerchief, except the last. But just as the note had said, he had received nothing since that last bento. His thoughts remained gloomy as he entered the agency, quickly making his way into his office, locking the door behind him. He knew better than to hope as he looked towards his desk. Bare, once again. Sighing heavily, he slumped into his chair. He gently pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk. Carefully nestled into it was the cleaned, empty bento box from the last meal, the small box of dwindling homemade chocolates, and that last precious handkerchief.

Kugo carefully removed the handkerchief. He brought the cloth to his nose, inhaling deeply. Stabbing pain shot through him as he realized the scent was barely there anymore. The faint scent of tears almost completely overpowering the last lingering trace of distressed omega. His hands clutched the fabric tightly, squeezing until he realized the stress he was putting on the fabric. He quickly placed it on the desk and tried in vain to smooth out the wrinkles. After a minute of fussing, he gently refolded it and placed it back in the drawer. Kugo stared at the contents, unblinking before slowly sliding the drawer closed. It was almost gone. Everything was almost gone. And he didn’t know how to get it back.

With a low growl, Kugo pushed himself up. Today was a rare day where he hoped for trouble on his patrol. A fight would certainly take his mind off things, and just maybe calm the whining alpha that echoed throughout his entire being.

~~~~

He really needed to be careful what he wished for. Kugo winced as he limped toward the support lab. He had gotten a fight alright. He had gotten three fights, a twisted ankle, and a once again smashed communication headset. It wasn’t his fault that he had gotten thrown backwards into a rather solid concrete wall. Y/N was going to kill him.

Kugo pushed the lab door open, stepping inside. His forehead creased in worry. The lab felt off. Wrong in a way he couldn’t immediately place a finger finger on. Well, he’d have to think about it later, he decided as he made his way to where you were sitting. You were at your workbench, tapping your pen on the table and staring at nothing when he settled down on the stool next to you. You glanced over as Kugo sat down, did a double take and let out a small noise of surprise.

“Sakamata! What happened to you?”

The large man shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “The usual. Villain didn’t behave exactly how I thought, and I paid for not being vigilant enough. Nothing too bad. Twisted ankle and roughed up a little. Unfortunately though…”

Sheepishly as a scolded schoolboy, Kugo pulled the shattered remains of his latest communicator out of his pocket and placed them on the workbench.

“Kugo!”

He couldn’t help but smile. He loved the times when you got worked up enough to call him by his first name. He watched as you gingerly sifted through the sad shattered remains.

“What did you do, hit it with a rock?!”

“Concrete wall, actually.”

You stilled before turning to look at Kugo, sharp and suspicious. “And I assume you were wearing it at the time?”

Kugo had the decency to look embarrassed as he nodded. Suddenly he was being fussed over, gentle hands touching his face and turning his head this way and that. An exclamation and curse left you when you found a large, sluggishly bleeding gash on the back of Kugo’s head.

“You! You Alpha!” You huffed as you started digging through the pockets of your lab coat. Kugo got a brief glimpse of colored fabric before the handkerchief was softly dabbing at his wound. Kugo hissed, only half listening as the scolding continued about how knot headed alphas needed to learn to go to the medical ward first before worrying about stupid replacable tech. He was brought back to the present when a hand, so much smaller than his own, grabbed his hand. You easily maneuvered him so that Kugo was now firmly holding the handkerchief over the cut. You hummed, satisfied for now.

“Now Sakamata, please hold that there until you can get medical to look at it. Doubt a hard headed man like you has a concussion, but might need stitches. I’m not exactly an expert. Don’t worry about the headset. I should be able to get a new one to you before my replacement takes over. And if not, I’ll be leaving some blueprints behind anyway.”

What?

“Replacement?”

You stilled, looking away from him. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just… I never found the right time to tell you.” You fidgeted, rubbing your thumb over your knuckles. “I’m going to be going to America soon. I’ve gotten a good offer to work with a few heroes over there that need someone specialized in mutation supports. It would do a lot to boost my career…”

Kugo reached out, grabbing your hand, and stopping your nervous motions. He tried to find words in his stalling brain. “This is really sudden, Y/N.”

“Yeah. Sorry.” You wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He gently shook his head, giving your hand a squeeze. “Not scolding you. Just, is everything alright? Is something going on?”

You pulled away, digging your hands into your hair with a sigh. “You know me too well.”

Kugo gave half a smile. “I would hope so. I like to think we’re friends. Is there anything I can do? Are you in trouble in some way?”

You shook your head. “No. No, nothing like that. It’s kind of embarrassing. Just… A courtship that really didn’t turn out well. And I just… I could really use some time away to get my head back on straight. Eagle Pride’s office has mentioned wanting me to go over and collaborate with them for a while, and what better time than now?” Your laugh sounded bitter.

Kugo sat silent and stunned. He hadn’t known you were courting. Being courted? Honestly, he wasn’t even sure of your dynamic. If you weren’t beta, then you certainly hid your scent well. He cleared his throat before speaking hesitantly.

“I certainly won’t stop you if you truly wish to go. It is an excellent opportunity. Might be a step in having your own support company if you wish. And if not, you’re always welcome here, Y/n. You must know that.”

You give a small smile, finally looking him in the eye. His chest tightened when he saw tears there. “I know, Kugo. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. You’re a good friend for putting up with me.”

“There’s no putting up with. I enjoy your company, always.” Kugo reached out slowly, but you turned away and wiped your eyes with your sleeve. He frowned, placing his hand back in his lap. “And you sure you’re alright, Y/N? No one is threatening you, are they? Someone unsafe taken an interest in you?”

You snorted, “Nothing like that. And people think I’m the dramatic one. No. I just got rejected is all. I miscalculated. Thought they were interested, but they made it very clear they aren’t.”

“Then they’re an idiot.” The words escaped Kugo before he even realized what he was going to say. But it was true, he was sure. You were beautiful, kind, smart. Anyone would be beyond lucky to hold your interest. On the rare days he allowed himself to dream, he often thought he’d love to have someone like you as a mate. Someone who knew him well and cared for him as much as he cared for them. He felt pains in his chest and his eyes widened as realization hit him in the face like a wet mackerel. Oh. He was jealous. He was jealous of whoever it was that y/n had tried to court. And he was angry. Furious that some fool had rejected her. Hurt her. But he was glad she was still here. Yet she was going to leave. Going to leave him here alone. His thoughts swirled and tumbled, and he swayed slightly in his seat. And hand on his shoulder stilled him and he looked up into your concerned eyes.

“Hey, you’re not looking too good. You really should get to medical. Do you need me to help you?”

“No. No. I can make it down a few hallways, thank you though.”

Kugo stood, and tried to give back the cloth he had been pressing to his head. You pushed it back, gently scolding him. “I said leave it there until someone can look at it. If you insist on returning a silly old rag, you can wash it and give it back later.”

Kugo nodded and mumbled out a goodbye. He had a lot to think about as he slowly made his way to medical. So. He liked you. The more he thought about it, the clearer it seemed to him. He’d liked you for a while. Things were always easy with you. But now, you’re leaving. He couldn’t stop you, and wouldn’t even if he could. You clearly felt like you needed to go.

He was still ruminating on his thoughts as the doctor ushered him to a bed. He was poked and prodded. Kugo managed to mumble out what must have been coherent answers. In the end, he did end up needing a few stitches. And just like that, he found himself fixed up and back in his office. He snorted a laugh at the absurdity. How can a day like this somehow manage to be just another day? Kugo sat in his chair and twisted the cloth in his hands absently. He brought it to his nose and sniffed out of habit. Oh course, the scent of his own blood was the most dominant. But underneath that was the usual calming scent of omega. His shoulders relaxed as the tension ran out of him. He pulled that cloth away, idly looking at the pattern. It was cute. Floral. Reminded him of the cloth that the first bento had been…

Wait.

Wait.

He hastily brought the handkerchief to his nose again. There was no mistaking it. He knew that smell. He had missed that smell for weeks. It was faint. But it absolutely was there. Omega, soft and sweet. Not any omega. His omega. His bento maker. His y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n who had seen him toss her courting gift in the trash, who thought he had completely rejected her, and who was moving to America.

Kugo was on his feet in an instant. He’d never made the trip to the support lab that quickly before. You jumped when the door flew open, hitting so harshly that the doorknob dented the wall.

“Sakamata! What?”

He dropped to his knees before you, arms wrapped tight around your waist and his head pressing against your stomach.

“Kugo?” You asked softly, hesitantly stroking along his fin. “Kugo, what’s wrong?”

“You’re the best thing life has ever given me. Please don’t leave. Please.”

You made a soft, wounded sound. You kneeled slowly, and took his face in your hands. Kugo leaned into your touch like a man who had been starved of affection his whole life. You stroked your thumbs over his cheeks.

“Kugo, I’m going to need you to speak plainly, so I’m sure I don’t misunderstand. What’s going on?”

His large hands came up, taking both your hands in his.

“I’m an idiot.”

You snorted and tilted your head, confused. He met your gaze as he continued.

“I’m an idiot and I love you.”

You inhaled sharply, looking at him in disbelief. He pulled the crumpled, bloodstained handkerchief from his pocket.

“I’m an idiot because I love you and yet I never even noticed that you loved me too. You showed me every day. You knew I like eggs just as much as fish. You cared enough to make them cute. You gave me extra sweets on days when I was working a double shift. I loved every bento you made me. I have every note saved. And I might be an idiot, but I’d be an even bigger idiot if I let you go without saying something. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, and I love you and please don’t go.”

“Kugo.” You smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I already promised I’d go.”

Kugo inhaled a shaky breath, his eyes lowering to the floor.

“But,” you used your hands to lift his chin. His gaze snapped back to yours. “It’s just for six months. Six months, and then I’ll be right back here. With you.”

“With me?”

“Mmhmm.” You gave his nose a quick peck. “Always. You’re the best man I know. I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world for me.”

Kugo groaned and pulled you close, burying his face in your neck. From here, although it was very faint, he could smell your soothing scent. “You can’t say things like that and then tell me I can’t have you here for six months!”

You chuckled as you hugged him close. “Well, we have two weeks before I leave. We have a little time. And once I’m back? We’ll have all the time in the world.”

“Even that won’t be enough time to spend with you.”

“Dork.”

He hummed his agreement. “But it’s true. Eternity would be enough time to spend with you.” Before you could protest, he pulled you in for a gentle, but determined kiss.

[chateautae]

flirt | pjm. (m)

➵ summary :  park jimin is a notorious flirt, but so are you. when you both meet at a party after weeks of back and forth, it’s a matter of time before somebody gives in

➵ pairing : jimin x reader

➵ genre :  college!au, sexual tension, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 4k

➵ warnings : super suggestive flirting, alcohol consumption (both parties able to consent), swearing, light dom and sub themes, soft dom!jimin, brat!reader, little bit of brat-handling, dirty talk, praising but also degradation? it’s hot i promise, use of slut, slight body worshipping, mentions of oral, jimin is hot and yes that’s a warning in itself, breast play, unprotected sex, penetrative + rough sex, bit of angsty sex, creampie cause i seem to not like it any other way

➵ a/n : and my first jimin fic is here!! dear god i love this boy to the moon and back so i got a bit carried with him lmao, hopefully this isn’t terrible cause i still need to edit it but your support and feedback are always appreciated!! <3

2 hours.

2 hours since you first came to this party. You’ve bumped into at least a hundred people, danced your legs numb, God knew how many and what concoction of drinks were inebriating your system and still, you hadn’t seen Park Jimin the whole night. 

The only reason you even dragged yourself to this party was because of him. You were initially bailing on the annual ‘one-last-hurrah-before-midterms’ party because you, like everyone else here had midterms haunting them Monday. It was Friday night and as the ever diligent student, you were planning to study over the weekend.

Though your nagging best friend Hoseok had other plans, threatening you to come with every piece of dirt he had on you until he finally sprinkled Jimin’s name into the mix. You couldn’t lie, it was the only reason you decided to hell with your education, wiggled into a barely-there dress and waltzed in with Hoseok ready to take the night on.

But when you hadn’t seen Jimin at all, you were left annoyed, pissed off and with a headache raking your brain.

Seeing him was a selfish desire, one you’d develop after realizing you had met your match when you first encountered Jimin. You were always fairly notorious for your flirtatious habits and touchiness, a sort of trademark of yours and the same was always said about a ‘Park Jimin’ unknown to you, sometimes described to be an even bigger flirt.

It automatically intrigued you, curious of what kind of rival you secretly harbored until one day, you chanced upon Hoseok who just so happened to be with Jimin. 

At first, you didn't think Jimin could be a daring flirt. He had this sweet smile and disciplined way of speaking that screamed innocent to you, his mannerisms and demeanor shy and introverted. He didn’t make big moves and so you wrote him off as just that. 

But it wasn’t until you started seeing him outside your class’ building, alone, and multiple times after that, enough for you to realize he was anything but shy or innocent.

You ended up observing that a) he was sex on legs, b) easily flipped between the persona of an angel and a demon and c) anything he did could seem flirting. 

You two hit it off without a hitch, your flirtatious tendencies meeting to form a relationship of mutual interest. It was clear as day, both your actions almost always held some sort of unknown intentions behind them, your every saying a double meaning. 

It became the norm between you two, anytime you met turning into a conversation riddled with innuendos, suggestive lip-biting or eyes that couldn’t help but wander. And you weren't stupid, you could tell he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You two were dangerous, testing the limits of either’s control, hoping someone would give in and only left disappointed when nobody did. 

So when Hoseok mentioned this party, and graciously added Park Jimin’s name to it, you knew this was your chance. A party with buzzing bodies, loud music and copious amounts of alcohol was bound to set him off, especially if you were dressed scandalously and felt bolder with liquid courage pumping through your system.  

But it’d been 2 hours, and you hadn’t seen him all night. You were taking another shot in the kitchen, sulking by yourself and reflecting on the fact that you’d been duped by Hoseok. This party became useless to you, a mere waste of your time as you quickly discarded your cup and began stomping out of the kitchen.

You ventured further into the house to look for Hoseok’s 5’10 ass, tell him he’s the worst best friend for lying to you and that you were leaving this disappointment of a party.

You stepped around people mindfully, dodging them until you rammed smack dab into someone’s back, scrambling for an apology before looking at the unaffected victim.

Park fucking Jimin.

“Y/N!” Jimin beamed, holding a drink in his hand as he smiled widely.

“Jimin, hey! I thought you didn’t come tonight.” You attempted biting back your smile from finally finding him, shouting over the bass of the music as you met him on the dance floor.

“I just ran late. You know me, of course I’d be here!” Jimin raised his drink to his plump lips and sipped, stepping side-to-side in rhythm with the music. 

You couldn’t make him out that well, the disco lights of whatever lights system the only means of seeing him in the dark, but you swear the smirky grin on his face as he scanned you over wasn’t just a figment of your imagination, ecstatic that you already seemed to be reeling him in. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, I already had-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as someone’s raging body stumbled into yours suddenly, sending you off balance until Jimin reached out for you cautiously.

“Woah, easy there.” Jimin’s arms quickly held you, flashing a scolding look at the person who bumped into you and pulling you towards himself. “Are you here with someone tonight?”

“Yeah, Hoseok! I was looking for him.”

“Why’s that?”

“I.. wasn’t having fun, so I wanted to leave with him.” You swiftly masked the real truth, your voice becoming less of a shout as Jimin encased you, just a few centimeters between your bodies as you peered up at him, cheeks flushed with heat and alcohol.

“Leave with him? Damn, didn’t know you two were like that.” Jimin flashed you a suggestive look, raising his eyebrows.

“Shut up, you know we’re just best friends.” You both erupted into a fit of chuckles as you hit his chest, your hand smacking against his jacket and now that you were close, registered what a meal he looked like tonight; ripped black jeans, plain white t-shirt underneath a distressed jean jacket, all pulled together sexily by his tousled hair, small hoop earrings and a Chanel necklace decorating his neck.

Dear God, how many times you’ve ached to kiss that pretty, pretty neck.

You internally groaned, habitually drawing closer to him as you enjoyed the warmth of his body, nostrils filling with the familiar scent of his intoxicating cologne.

“So I hear you wanna have some fun.” Jimin perked up, eyes amused and hands smoothing over your sides slowly after faltering from your arms.

“Are you suggesting I’ll have fun with you?”

“Of course, gorgeous, but up to you how we do that.” Jimin stepped dangerously closer to you as his voice lowered, your face tucked into his chest as his body blocked other people from touching you.

Excitement shot to your center at his use of a pet name, a common occurrence during your exchanges though his choices of which always an added thrill. 

“And what if I just want to leave and eat at a diner instead?”

“Then I’d definitely take you, food and you? A win in my book.”

You cocked an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Adding me to the mix suddenly makes it a win? I’m not the one on the menu, Park.” 

Jimin’s eyes seem to blow out, leaning down as his plushy lips ghosted your ear as he spoke, tone darkened, “We can change that, princess.”

A thrill shot throughout your body, hyper aware of his lips mere inches from your face as your heart began to race, turning towards him expectantly.

You began advancing slowly to decrease the gap between your mouths, feeling him inch forward in response, letting him hover just above your lips for a tease before you stopped, “I’d like to see you try, Park.”

Then you abruptly turned out of his hold and walked away, making it through a few people into a hallway, allowing yourself to breathe. You loved teasing Jimin, it was an incredibly entertaining pass time but dear God, did it knock the fucking wind out of you. 

You were mentally recuperating from the fact that he almost let you kiss him, distracted as you stepped away until someone suddenly snatched your arm and pinned you against the nearest wall. You were honestly shocked to see Jimin, surprised he actually took your bait and stayed on your trail to stop you. His dancing eyes held nothing but greed, evident even in the darkness of the party.

“You know just how to test people, don’t you?” Jimin warned as he narrowed his dangerous eyes at you, holding your hot-skinned wrists against the cool wall. 

“Of course I do, it makes things fun and last time I checked,”  You brought your face to his and left only an inch between you two, “that’s just what I want.”

Jimin visibly grew less tamed, glancing down towards your lips as he tried breathing controllably, “Careful what you wish for, princess. It might come true.” 

“And if that’s what I want?” You titled your head expectantly, licking your lips as you watched Jimin bite his own. He eyed you the whole time, making it a statement to drink you in every inch of you. 

You could smell the alcohol on him, assuming liquor was the only driving force behind his actions but then contemplated his level-headedness, his coherent speech and clear judgment in this moment.

Jimin was choosing to chase after you, choosing to not let you go after weeks of incessant back and fourth and you knew you were finally getting closer to exactly what you wanted. 

Park Jimin giving in. 

“You’re fucking hot.” Jimin commented, eyes eating you up hungrily.

“You’re hotter.” You grinned and leaned back against the wall, cleavage unintentionally popping out for him and Jimin’s look immediately shifted, bringing his body closer against yours.

“You look submissive as hell right now, is that what you like? To be dominated?”

“Only if you like to dominate.” 

Jimin could feel the reigns on his control snapping, biting down to contain his raw desire to fuck you. He’s been holding himself back, knowing you seemed willing on your end of the interactions but never wanting to take the leap in case it was all just an act. 

But as he watched you go along with his every comment, staring back at him with the same devious eyes and practically offering yourself to him in his hold, he knew you weren’t acting at all. 

“You talk a big game, but can you put your money where your mouth is?” Jimin leaned his hips against yours, ensuring you could feel his growing hardness. 

“My mouth can do a lot of fucking things, Park.” You jutted your hips into his.

Jimin shut his eyes frustratedly before he re-opened them, a downright obsidian colour taking them over.

“Go the fuck upstairs.” 

“Wh-”

“I said, go the fuck upstairs.” Jimin demanded, looking at you with conviction so searing you in fact did become submissive. 

“W-which room-” You didn’t complete your question as Jimin’s deft hands encased you and lifted you off the ground, bridal-style.

“Jimin-!” You exclaimed.

“Say another word and I’ll make sure you feel me in your throat.” 

You immediately swallowed your mouth shut as Jimin cluthed you to him, core alighting with desire as he carried you up the stairs. Jimin arrived at the second floor and rushed towards the first room with an ajar door, shutting it with your feet after entering.

He made towards the bed and practically threw you onto it, stepping away to lock the door before leaning against it, arms crossed and serious. 

“You sure you want this?” His voice came out considerate, no haste or pressure.

“Yes, Jimin.” 

“You’re completely sure?” 

You nodded incessantly. 

“I need your words, Y/N.”

“Yes.” You affirmed, unintentionally becoming submissive as you awaited him, and Jimin couldn't resist you, not any longer. He made towards your smaller figure on the bed and immediately crashed his lips onto yours, knee sinking into the mattress as he leaned over you, splaying you onto the bed.  

He held your wrists against the sheets, kissing you open as his plump lips worked tirelessly against your mouth. He continued to swallow you, opening up to catch all of you as he sank further downwards to feel your body arch into his.

His wet tongue glided over your lips and you welcomed him in lightspeed, letting his muscle entangle with yours hastily and you instantly loved the taste of him. 

Jimin’s kisses began deepening, exploring your mouth like he was dehydrated and your mouth was fresh water. His thigh began pressing against your core and you moaned into his mouth as Jimin disconnected from you, panting for air. 

“Don’t fucking do that.” He voiced frustratedly, his full lips swollen and pink as he tried to contain himself. 

“Do what?” 

“Fucking moan, it does shit to me.” 

“Sucks for you, I’m responsive as fuck.” You snipped as his sudden confession made you hot, squishing your thighs together. Jimin took notice and he flashed a look at your core. 

“Responsive, huh?” Jimin let go of your wrist, sliding his hand down your body before pressing his fingers to your heat through your dress. You instantly gasped, arching as you felt your walls clench around absolutely nothing. 

“J-Jimin.” you warned him weakly. 

“Mm?” Jimin paid no attention as he lowered himself to your neck and began kissing, tonguing, sucking at a spot that had you cowering and squirming underneath him. 

You groaned as your free hand tangled into his hair, hugging him to your neck as you basked in the glory of his plush lips devouring you. He was laving and nibbling at your skin, continuously kissing the area of your carotid all while rubbing his hand against your clothed cunt. Jimin began rutting his body against yours, the tip of his cock prodding you the more he moved.

“Fuck you, Jimin. This isn’t fair.” You moaned breathlessly

“As fair as it gets, princess. You wanted to see my try, yeah?” Jimin suddenly stopped his movements on your core and slid his hand up your bare thigh, only to shift your stained panties to the side and glide his fingers all over your bare pussy. You gasped Jimin’s name and tugged at his hair harshly, the alcohol hazing everything over with sensitivity and trying to sustain the sheer amount of pleasure he was rewarding you.

“N-nothing’s fair about this.”

Jimin smoothed the pads of his fingers over your slick core, eliciting your incessant gasps, “Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” 

He was leaving purple marks all along your neck and chest, moving down to the valley of your breasts and you whined headily, hating that he had such an advantage in this position. 

You immediately grew bold enough to push him off by his chest, detaching him as Jimin looked at you confused. “Y/N, what the fu-” was all Jimin could get out before you stood up and gripped his cock through his pants, his breath immediately hitching. He looked at you with surprised eyes, growing weaker in your hold as you walked him back against a vanity in the room.

You had no clue who this room belonged to, but you could care less when you were minutes away from getting fucked by Park Jimin.

He let out breathy little moans as you palmed him, shutting his eyes in bliss as he turned harder by the second, leaning back against the counter. You planted your lips to his neck and mouthed fervently, making sure you embellished his skin with your desire for him. “F-fuck. Y/N, this isn’t fair.”

“Fuck with my ego and I fuck with you, baby.” You mocked him and began rubbing at his shaft, sucking hickies onto his pretty neck and licking over the areas your teeth grazed. Jimin continued groaning, hugging you close to him as he fisted his hands against your body, trying everything to cherish the pleasure he felt. 

The person he’s been desiring ever since he heard about you, his every nerve thrilled by your ability to counter him, match his energy of constant flirting and testing the waters, venturing further than him sometimes.

You were just so tempting and Jimin wanted every last bit of you. 

That sentiment increased when he felt your hands snake towards the belt of his jeans, unbuckling harshly with need so apparent he wanted nothing but to stuff your walls, now. 

“No, fuck off, getting inside you first.” Jimin denied your hands, capturing them in his hold.

You instantly whined, “But Jimin, want you to fuck my face.” You pouted into his neck, kissing along his collar bones as you rutted against him. 

“Fucking God, I’m destroying you for that.” Jimin wrapped you up in his arms and switched the positions, shoving you against the vanity, your ass on the edge of the counter as Jimin stood in between your spread out legs, lips meeting yours again. 

Jimin lifted the skirt of your dress up and over your backside, pooling around your waist as his hands slid over your fleshy thighs to the band of your panties. He pulled only to snap them back against your skin, the contact making you gasp.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing these?”

“And why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?” You chastised, hands greedily shoving his jacket off him even with your mouth attached to his.

Jimin didn’t allow the action to compromise your kiss either, practically ripping his jacket off and breathing hard against you as he threw it away. He then pulled his t-shirt over himself, revealing his toned, lean body underneath and only leaving his Chanel necklace hanging over his bare chest. You licked your lips at the sight of his smooth and pretty body, the outline of his abs like a work of art.

You reached out to touch him, his face and skin flushed with lust as he watched you. “You’re so hot, Jimin, so pretty.” You praised, eyes ogling him.

Jimin smirked proudly before speaking, “Your turn.”

He searched for the zipper of your dress and unzipped hastily, peeling away the top to reveal your naked breasts and now it was his turn to ogle at you.

“Fuck me, you’re prettier.” He huffed out, eyes blown out entirely.

“Probably not as pretty as your cock, let me suck.” You pouted playfully and pulled him closer to you with the back of your shins, hands greedily feeling up his bare chest.

“Only good girls get to suck my dick.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you’re a fucking brat and a half.” Jimin started kneading your breasts, licking his lips as he watched you spread your legs wider for him and lean your head back out of pure bliss.

“I am not a brat, you just fucking take 10 years to get it on.” You snapped back, moaning in between at the way he groped your breasts, rolling the buds of your nipples with his fingertips.

“Sorry I was a fucking gentleman, didn’t know you were such a cock-hungry slut.” Jimin bit as he planted his thick lips to your perched nipple, eliciting curses from you as his tongue began swirling around, sucking teasingly.

“You just can’t fuck, isn’t it? All bark and no bite?”

Jimin scoffed darkly at that, sucking harder on your sensitive nipples before letting go with a pop. “I’ll fucking break you is why I kept holding off, you’ll regret this, princess.”

“Break me then, Jimin, please. Fuck me like you say you will, I need you.” Your arousal became unbearable as you grew hornier, rocking your hips against him for friction while he laved at either of your nipples.

“I will, baby. Get these off and I’ll fuck you so good.” Jimin tugged at your panties and you lifted your ass for him to discard them.

You unhooked Jimin’s belt and shoved into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans down until you finally freed his leaking length, thick and throbbing to be treated.

What you always thought was right, his cock was pretty just like him. You graciously pumped him, spreading his pre-cum over the head as you watched him lean his head back, kissing under his jaw.

“So pretty, Jimin, just like you.”

Jimin stopped caring about any and everything and instantly grabbed one of your legs, spreading you wide open for him and situated himself before your entrance.

He brought a hand over yours pumping his member and moved you quicker against his hot flesh, looking down at the lewd scene and your pretty pussy aching for him.

“Look at you soaking, baby, so much prettier.” 

You moaned needily, the back of your shins urging Jimin closer to you again as you whined. “Jimin..”

“Raw?” he breathed impatiently. 

“Fuck yes, birth control.”

Jimin didn’t even take a millisecond before he was pushing against your hole, placing the hand that was pumping his member now against your pelvic bone, pressing down to feel himself sink inside of you.

You instantly careened, moaning out so loud that if there wasn’t music blaring in the house, everyone would know how stuffed Jimin made you feel.

“Fuck-Jimin! Stop doing that, it feels too fucking good..!” You nearly cried, the pressure of Jimin’s hand making you feel any and every ridge, vein and hardness of his thick cock, your walls drinking him in.

“Fuck you, this is what you get.” Jimin blurted as he buried himself to the hilt, groaning satisfyingly at your warm walls hugging him before plunging to make out with you.

Jimin began fucking you with conviction, determination to drive you insane for him as he spread you open. He thrusted fast and hard from the get-go, neglecting to set a pace knowing how much of a cock-loving brat you were. His thumb resting just above your clit dipped down to lightly play with your bud, tease it, all the while licking into your mouth and thrusting into you.

You gasped hard, so much that Jimin’s name was the only thing coherent within them and he swallowed all your sounds with his lips. Your body was on fire at the drag of his cock, shocked at how wet you were when he hadn’t even fingered or eaten you out, his cock doing all the work, leaving you only thinking of Park Jimin’s sheer power.

You wanted all of him so badly, wanted him to ruin you, destroy you like he said he would, fuck you open like he always insinuated he would.

“Jimin, please, harder! Fuck me like the brat I am, teach me a fucking lesson.”

“Princess likes it hard, huh? Want me to fuck this pussy up? Make it all mine?” Jimin’s words were so filthy they had you clutching onto him tightly, arousal gushing from you as Jimin impaled you harder, snapping into you.

His thumb continued its onslaught, your walls convulsing to his every stroke as you gripped his shoulders and kissed him, biting his plushy bottom lip as he fucked you harder.

“Mm, Jimin, fuck!” Your tits bounced as he pounded into you, taking his every thrust like a champ and he damn well shook the entire vanity, continuously drilling your hole as he gave no room for mercy. Your hands snaked into his hair and tugged, making him groan in approval and he only pushed you open wider in response.

“You pretty brat, look at you getting what you want. Fucked like the cock-loving princess you are.” Jimin breathed against your mouth, his skin slicking with sweat as he worked tirelessly against your opening, battering your pussy with an unforgiving speed.

“You would’ve gotten your dick sucked, but apparently-” you shuddered breathily, “I w-wasn’t a good girl.” You felt weak from his repeated onslaught, the bubbling pleasure in your gut keeping you going. 

“Yeah, so fucking behave and maybe I’ll let you choke on my dick.”

“Y-you stop playing games and maybe I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Jimin only ticked his head to the side as he chuckled darkly, starting to propel his thick cock into your gut and raging at your clit so roughly, you gasped as you carved your pleasure into his skin. Jimin did the same as he bore his fingers into you, a hand squeezing your thigh harshly as he held your leg and your walls fluttered around him, moans growing higher in pitch.

“Jimin! I’m gonna-“ you didn’t even complete your sentence as your walls clamped around him, orgasm washing over you so quickly you barely realized it came. You clenched him like a vice and panted hard against his mouth, Jimin finally coming undone as well, spurts of cum painting your insides and filling you to the brim, certain he’d leak out of you for hours.

You felt stuffed, so full of him you were hazed over with post-orgasm bliss, mind unwinding from any trifling matter on Earth. Your forehead slacked against his shoulder as you both panted for air, sweating as Jimin held your weak body in his arms.

His cock remained shoved inside you, the throbbing letting up on both of you as your highs settled down.

“You..” Jimin swallowed dryly, breathing. “took me like a good girl. Maybe you can suck me off next time.”

“Next time?” You breathed labourly, turning your face towards his.

Jimin peered down at you resting against him, biting back a grin. “Of course, there’s always a next time with flirts like us.”

[kamotoshi]

safe [chōsō x reader]

pairing: chōsō x fem sorcerer! reader

genre: fluff with (seriously faint) hints of angst

warning(s): contains manga spoilers for chapter 62!

word count: 2.3k

overview: after spending many years as a sorcerer, you’ve believed certain things to be true. but a chance meeting with a curse that’s developed into a deeper relationship changes your perspective.

notes: want some listening music? here are two songs that helped me write this: summer fling by kang + effervescent by toonorth

A quiet, but gasping breath fills your lungs with a pocket of cold air when you wake from a dead sleep with a start. Instinctively, your hand flies in front of you, directed towards the doorway to obliterate whatever intruder you automatically assume has roused you from your deep slumber. However, much to your surprise, you’re completely alone. Rubbing your eyes, you turn your head towards the alarm clock on your bedside table to check the hour.

Ah, it’s that time again.

With a gentle sigh, you slide out from beneath the warm covers, causing your skin to break out in a wave of goosebumps at the chill in your room that you throw on a sweater and pants to combat before heading to the kitchen of your small but cozy living quarters. Sleep refuses to relinquish its grip, and you ungracefully bump into a few surfaces in the process of preparing two, hot cups of tea and finding a blanket to drape around your shoulders.

The rush of crisp air that greets you when you finally make your way outside of your abode livens you up a bit, though, and you wrap your arms around yourself to retain as much warmth as you can. Following the stone path decorated with glowing lanterns brings you to the front gates of your school—a place you know to visit whenever you wake up with such a start in the dead of the night. The drinks in your hands radiate heat that staves off the bite of the cold as another gust of wind howls past you.

In the darkness of the night, only lit ever so faintly by the twinkling stars in the sky and the waning moon, your eyes search for the visitor who seems to have fallen into a habit of making their presence known around the same time on every odd evening. Sure enough, the thumping of heavy boots against the stone walkway winding near and through Jujutsu High’s campus draws your attention to a tall figure wandering around nearby. The baggy cream clothes draped over his body beneath a vest the hue of blood instantly give away his identity, along with the dark, spiked hair gathered neatly atop both halves of his head.

Before his name can leave your mouth, he turns around to face you, as if he senses your presence the same way you sense his on the nights that he chooses to visit. It’s almost as if he uses some unseen force to disturb you from your sleep so he can steal away anywhere from a few minutes to hours of your time. Of course, this possibility would seem at least the slightest bit insane to an average person, but, for you—a jujutsu sorcerer—it cannot be discounted for the sole reason of what your visitor is: a special grade curse.

Wordlessly, the man you’ve come to know as Chōsō after a twisted event that led to many more spontaneous encounters such as this approaches you. His dark gaze skims over your figure before settling on your own, making your heart thud gently in your chest. Placing his hands in his pockets, he glances at the drinks you’re holding and asks, “Will you come on a walk with me?”

As a sorcerer, it should be second nature to meet the request of a cursed spirit with a no followed by a prompt exorcism. However, in all the times that he’d come to visit, he hadn’t appeared to do so out of ill will or inclination to get some sort of revenge. He’d always sat on the outskirts of the campus or walked around the lush forest surrounding it with you, making as much or as little conversation as you’d liked. In spite of how powerful you knew he was and the nature of his being, you didn’t feel particularly put off by him. In fact, you often found yourself thinking about him and when he’d stop by next more than you probably should.

Slowly, you nod, passing him one of your mugs so the two of you can be on your way. “Thanks.”

The sky above is surprisingly clear, given the school’s location in Tokyo, aside from a few, lingering clouds that float past the moon on their way around the part of the world you call home. It’s oddly peaceful considering your company for the evening. But you’d never really felt uneasy in his presence to begin with. And you certainly don’t feel threatened now, with the way he only seems focused on trying not to spill any of the tea you’d so kindly prepared for him as the two of you traverse a dirt path near the school’s grounds.

It's also a bit ironic, you think, that the route you seem to have fallen into the habit of taking leads you near one of the many, small shrines—gems hidden amongst the forest’s depths—but he appears to have just as much of an affinity to the location since he never suggests going elsewhere.

Beneath the gentle, pale glow from above filtered through leafy branches extending over you, Chōsō’s features take on a soft, almost peaceful appearance. He seems to bask in the symphony of crickets singing as he takes a deep breath and sits down on the grassy hill directly beside you. His dark eyes dipping down to the lip of the mug in his hands before shifting over to meet yours catches you off-guard since you hadn’t realized you’d been watching him so attentively.

“Hmm?” he wonders and takes another sip of his tea. His voice and your own pounding heartbeat are the only things you can hear above the sea of noise.

Inquisitively, you ask him a question you’re sure he’s used to hearing: “Why do you keep coming here?”

He sighs and glances at the grass beneath the two of you before answering, “I get overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” you echo.

His head bobs in a slow nod as he tilts it up towards the sky once more, making his dark eyes twinkle in spite of the hint of sadness that seems to be lingering behind his gaze. “I’m always expected to do things. To pay the price of being granted my life here. And sometimes, all I wanna do is just sit and look at the sky.” There’s a small, but undeniable ache of empathy in your chest as you allow your eyes to flit over every feature of his face, searching for the words he’s not saying. But with his straightforward, unabashedly honest manner of speaking, it’s unlikely for him to leave you wondering.

After taking a drink to fight off the chilliness, another question leaves your lips. “You could go anywhere to cloud watch or stargaze, though. Why come all the way here?”

“I want to.”

Your fingers tap against the ceramic of your mug. “But being here puts you in a lot of danger. Why would you want to go somewhere like this to escape?”

Without a hint of hesitation, his dark eyes find your own once more as he states, “Because you’re here.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you filled with the ceaseless chirps of crickets during which you attempt to mask any effects of your racing heart and the heat crawling up your neck at his confession. However, the shock that strikes you like lightning must be written on your face, since his eyebrows furrow slightly with confusion at your reaction, and he adds, “I thought I made it clear I come here to spend time with you.”

For a few seconds, your lips make quivering, unsuccessful attempts at forming words your vocal cords won’t allow you to voice before you direct your attention to the mug in your hands filled with tea, instead, and try to regain your composure enough to speak. “W-Well, I knew that, but why?” is all you can inquire with a quiet murmur.

His chest rises and falls in a deep, shuddering breath as a cool gust of wind whistles through the trees. At first, you wonder, with the slight glossiness to his eyes and his sudden inability to meet your gaze, if his emotions are the source of the tremors you notice in his jaw. However, the realization that he’s cold soon reaches you at the sight of his arms folding across his chest. Wordlessly and without thinking, you close the little distance between your bodies and drape part of your blanket around his broad shoulders.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, uncrossing his arms so one of his hands can hold the side of the blanket you’ve given him while the other plants itself on the grass behind you. The unexpected warmth radiating from him that seems to engulf you in the tight space you’re now sharing makes it hard to resist the temptation of resting your head on his shoulder.

“I miss my brothers,” is the gently spoken truth that leaves his lips, “I wanted to give them a better life. My failure to fulfill my role as their older brother is something that weighs heavily on me, even though I know they’d tell me they forgave me if I had been there in their final moments.”

Following his moment of vulnerability, the two of you find enough courage to make eye contact, and you struggle not to lose yourself in the seemingly endless depths of his midnight-colored irises. With your faces mere inches away, you’re granted a closer look at him than you’ve ever had before, and it seems, from the way he’s watching you so intently, that you’re not the only one enjoying the unexpected intimacy of the moment.

The muscles in his neck tense with a thick swallow before he continues, “But when I’m here with you, I feel like it’s okay that I’m still alive even though they’ve passed. You don’t look at me with hatred in your eyes or expect anything from me in exchange for my existence. You accept me as I am.” Another gentle breeze dislodges a few strands of hair tucked behind his ear that you naturally move back into place for him before your hand warm from the drink you’d been holding comes to rest against his cheek. “Why?”

His fingertips ghosting along your own neck and cheek leave sparks of electricity on your skin in their wake. But you manage to organize the thoughts threatening to escape your mind at the tenderness of his touch enough to whisper, “When you fought with me instead of against me, I realized that maybe the way I’ve been taught to view the world we live in isn’t entirely accurate. You risked your life to save mine. You defied the rules about the world I once thought were true. And because you showed me that you cared about my life, I want to do the same for you.” A hint of a smile playing at his lips brings a warmth to you that you don’t think even the heaviest of blankets could provide. Taking a deep breath to slow your heart—which had been racing since he’d locked eyes with you—you ask, “Is that why you want to come here?”

“Hmm?”

“Because you care about me?”

He nods earnestly as his thumb skims over your cheekbones, and the adoration glimmering in his eyes like the stars in the night sky above brings your face closer to his. With a timidness you wouldn’t have expected from him, his lips meet with yours in a short, fleeting kiss, as if he’s testing the waters. The way you chase his after they separate, though, serves as a silent confirmation and has him deepening the kisses your lips return to his to share. Given his relatively blunt yet quiet personality, you’re pleasantly surprised by the slow, sensual manner with which his lips move against yours. You’re sure the two of you could remain in this secluded part of the woods forever, under the cover of the shadows masking you from the pale moonlight as you lose yourselves in the moment, but the reality of the situation marks its painful return when you pull away.

“I care about you a lot, and I want to see you more often,” he breathes, “But the last thing I want is to put you in danger. That’s why I’ve been visiting every once in a while and in the middle of the night.”

Moving your hand to his shoulder to rub it gently, you murmur, “I know; I want to see you too, Chōsō.” In an instant, his arms are around you, pulling your body flush against his, and the action fills you with a bittersweet feeling, since this is only the first time you’ve been so close to him, yet you’re unsure of when you’ll get to share more affectionate moments with him like this one. “We’ll find a way to make it work,” is the promise you whisper into his neck while he nestles his face in yours.

After a few, long moments of silence have passed during which your mind exhausts itself by tirelessly attempting to form solutions to an issue you never could’ve imagined you’d have in your lifetime, you start to relinquish your grip around Chōsō. He, however, isn’t ready to do the same, and refuses to budge.

Instead, he answers your curious hum with, “I’ll let you go back to bed soon, but is it okay if I hold you for a little longer?” Even though fatigue is starting to settle in, you consent and wrap your arms around him once more, resting your head against the side of his and nestling your face in his hair as you let your heavy eyelids close. “I’ve just never felt this way before.”

“Which is…?”

Your heart flutters against his chest in cadence with his own against yours at his answer.

“Safe.”

[seriouslysnape]

Detention

Ron Weasley x Fem! Reader

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,829

“I’m sorry I ruined your weekend.”

“I said I was sorry!”

“Save it, Ron.”

“I didn’t know you would get in trouble too!”

“Shut up, Ron.” 

This conversation had been going on for the last ten minutes. Just you and Ron alone in the Potions classroom, bickering over the reason why you had ended up in Professor Snape’s Saturday night detention. Your beloved boyfriend decided that assisting his infamous twin brothers with one of their pranks outweighed the consequences of if they got caught. Fred and George managed to get off easy without any punishment, considering that they left you and Ron with all the damning evidence.

For the most part, it started out as a pretty harmless prank. It might’ve caused Filch a bit of a headache and a hernia, but otherwise it was meant to be a mellow joke. Fred and George had been working on these new exploding firecrackers that were supposed to combust when lit. They were proud of their finished product, and they were ready to try it out. Every once in a while, the twins would seek out their little brother’s help to ensure that the prank would be successful. 

In all of their excitement, they forgot to actually test the firecrackers to make sure they worked as they were supposed to.

It had always been Fred and George’s dream to make an attack on one of the girls’ bathrooms. Obviously it could be difficult to actually sneak in and have the time to plan some sort of scheme. But this was rather simple. All they had to do was have Ron light the firecrackers, toss them in the sink and scare the daylights out of anyone in the room. Ron had asked you to tag along, and you decided that witnessing their endeavor might be worth your time. That’s when Ron, Fred, and George had found a slight quirk in the twins’ design. 

The firecracker didn’t only explode and destroy the sink, but it caught everything in the surrounding area on fire. It was the loudest noise that any of them had ever heard, and water soon came gushing out of the busted pipes. The twins made their escape shortly after, leaving you and Ron to deal with their screw up. A group of girls sprinted out of the bathroom in a flurry of frightened screams as the room filled with smoke and water soaked you and the floor. Ron went into a panic until Professor Snape came running in with all the commotion, casting a charm to stop the flames from further engulfing the bathroom. Ron frantically tried to explain that neither of you were really the culprits, but without Fred and George present, it was impossible to prove. 

Snape dragged the two of you to his Potions classroom, not even allowing either of you to change clothes first. So, that was how you ended up in the gloomy classroom, practically dripping wet from the broken sink. Professor Snape’s detentions were always the worst, because he either gave you way too much to do, or nothing at all. Sometimes being assigned nothing but to sit in silence for hours at a time was worse than the latter.

You were sitting on the opposite side of the room from Ron, per Professor Snape’s demands. Although, you were so miffed at Ron that you didn’t even mind. You had barely offered  him even a passing glance in the last hour. You weren’t exactly thrilled that Ron had dragged you into this, because this wasn’t how you wanted to spend your Saturday night. After the first hour of silent detention had passed, Snape made his exit for a bit to go handle something with one of his Slytherins. That left you and Ron alone in the room, allowing some time to speak.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to come see it if I had known that they hadn’t even tried the damned thing out first.” Ron claimed, trying his hardest to get you to at least look at him.

You didn’t offer any kind of response, only continuing to stare off into space with your head resting in your palm. Ron hated the silent treatment. He’d rather you scream and yell at him for all hours of the night than you not say anything at all. At least that way he could know how you felt. The red-headed boy let out a deep sigh, crossing his arms over the top of the desk and resting his chin on the arm that was propped on top. 

It was so quiet in the desolate classroom that it was almost loud. If it weren’t for the clock ticking on the wall, Ron might’ve thought he had lost all hearing. He had grown bored long ago, almost wishing Snape had made the two of you write an essay or something. Out of sheer boredom, Ron began to tap his foot on the ground, the sole of his shoe making some sort of melody each time it hit the floor. 

You still didn’t turn your head to look at him, but your eyes did shift in his general direction. He began to lull his head from side to side, fairly content with the entertainment he was providing for himself. You were already irritated, and this wasn’t helping. It was possible to endure you supposed. It wasn’t like he was being totally obnoxious.

That was until he started singing.

He started singing some song you didn’t even know, but you did know that it was terrible. Ron’s horrid singing skills were no assistance either. You groaned in aggravation, finally looking at him through a piercing glare.

“Ron! Enough with the singing.” You scolded, hissing at your boyfriend.

His music production had innocent intentions. He hadn’t meant to annoy the everloving soul out of you, but it was a win-win because now you had spoken to him again, and he had an opportunity. He sheepishly grinned, scratching at his neck cumbersomely. 

“Sorry, love.” He apologized.

Now you let out a heavy sigh, but gave your first non-harsh response of the evening.

“It’s okay.” You replied, twiddling your thumbs absentmindedly.

It seemed that you had taken pretty much all of the water damage, not a single part of your clothing being dry. Ron had taken most of the smoke from the fire, his face and clothes smudged with soot. It was always cold in the dungeons of the castle, and your damp state just made you even chillier. You couldn’t fight the shudder that vibrated down your spine and through your body, something that Ron couldn’t miss.

“Are you cold?” Ron asked, knowing that you had to be.

You only shrugged, still not giving into his antics yet. 

“A little.” You lied as another shiver coursed through you. 

Ron chuckled under his breath, standing from his place and removing his sweater from his body, leaving his t-shirt underneath to remain. He walked over to you with the warmer clothes in hand, giving you one simple instruction.

“Arms up.” He said.

You looked at him with hesitancy and coldness, but you obliged. 

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” Ron said, whipping your wet shirt off. His cheeks glowed red at your breasts peeking over the top of your lacy bra, “My pretty baby…”

He grinned cheekily when you couldn’t stop the smile from appearing on your face. He slipped his sweater over your head, rubbing your arms to get more heat through you.

“I would offer you my trousers, but I don’t think Snape would appreciate me walking around his classroom in nothing but my underwear,” Ron joked, “Besides, I’d rather you stay in that skirt because bloody hell…”

“Ron,” You warned, “Not right now.”

“Because you’re mad at me or because you’re afraid Snape might walk in?” Ron chided.

“Both.” You answered shortly.

Ron let out a playful, guttural noise as he sat in the empty chair next to you. His hand was warm on your inner thigh, his palm forming to it perfectly. He had always believed that his hands were made for touching you...for loving on you.

“C’mon, beautiful, don’t be mad. I really didn’t think you’d get in trouble too,” He pleaded again, “I’d never do that on purpose.”

You let your index fingertip trail over his knuckles, a gesture that he always found so cute. You went quiet again, still not going to break just yet. Ron sighed dramatically.

“I guess you leave me no choice…” He hinted.

You went to question him, but you didn’t get the chance before he began peppering you with an attack of kisses. You squealed under his lips, laughing and squirming when he pulled you into his lap. His hands tickled your sides and wherever else he knew you were ticklish, refusing to stop until you caved.

“Okay, okay! I’m not mad!” You admitted, realizing you couldn’t stay angry at him, “It was kind of funny.” You added once he stopped.

Ron’s smile spread twice in size, his giggle coming out as a hiccup of a laugh. 

“Snape’s face was priceless! I can’t believe Fred and George missed it!” He exclaimed, remembering how Snape had almost fainted at the sight of what had happened.

The two of you fell into rounds of laughter as you remembered the encounter. You laughed until you were lightheaded and breathless from the aching in your sides. When your laughter simmered down, Ron filled the silence by kissing you more lovingly this time. He was relieved that you wouldn’t hold this over his head, but even more relieved that you understood that he really didn’t intentionally get you in trouble. His hands came to cup your face as your lips danced together as they had hundreds of times before. He kept you grounded in his lap, his arms wrapped around your torso. 

You pulled away first, brushing some of his slightly singed hair out of his face.

“I’m sorry I ruined your weekend.” He said, apologizing for the millionth time. 

“You didn’t ruin my weekend. You’re here, aren’t you?” You asked, smiling when he got bashful at your words, “Now go back to your side before Snape doubles our detention.”

Ron grumbled in disapproval, but set you off of his lap so he could return to his original seat. It was just in the nick of time too, since Snape entered immediately after Ron sat down.

“You’re both still here,” Snape announced, “I thought I was about to walk in on the two of you snogging.”

You held down your giggle that threatened to escape, only giving Ron a knowing look. 

“No, Professor. Never.” Ron lied. 

The rest of the night was horribly boring, but you completed your detention sentence nonetheless. Ron owed you a weekend and lots of compensation for your time spent in detention, but at the end of the day, you had made a wonderful memory that you’d always share with him. 

And you’d take detention for that any day.

[stickyy]

I loved what you wrote about student! college! aizawa,if it's not too much trouble,I would like to read a second part but it contains a sub!aizawa,dom!reader,mommy kink and pegging please. I have to take advantage of the fact that you are the first blog with dark content that I see that accepts pegging,an opportunity that I will not miss,but if it gets complicated for you oh you don't like it,you can reject my request.

DISCLAIMER: always ask for consent first!

warnings: DUBCON, sub!aizawa, edging, verbal abuse, bondage, pegging, gn!reader but light mommy kink is used in reference to, praise kink if you squint?, slightly unrealistic depictions of pegging, reader is fed up but that doesnt excuse their actions :P

word count: 3489

notes: sorry for the delay, i hope u like anon! :D there should always be more pegging fic out there

part 1 here

EXAM SEASON

Finals season is quickly approaching, sending the entire campus into a frenzy, students scrambling like displaced ants trying to finish last minute assignments, novel-esque essays, merciful extra credit projects. The workload takes its toll on everyone, even the star students. You found Aizawa in even worse moods more frequently; a schedule consisting of all nighters spent studying old material followed by early classes and a job on the side, he was absolutely exhausted. You sometimes sneak a peek over at him during class to see his head bobbing slightly, bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open as he fights sleep. A small part of you feels bad for him; he’s a diligent student, and you were sympathetic to his exhaustion.

You still hate the asshole, though.

You found yourself snagged in a twisted sort of arrangement with Aizawa after midterms. There was always a half-assed attempt at tutoring you before giving up and cramming his cock down your throat or deep inside your cunt, leaving you sore and dripping with his cum, all the while spewing insults targeted at your intelligence (or lack thereof). In exchange, he’d complete your assignments and allow you to copy his answers on exam days. Ignoring the situation is where you make peace with yourself; you feel used, but you also have no other option if you want to pass this class.

What you hate the most is the way you roll over and take it. You’re more than just a hole to fuck, you know that, but you’re helpless against his searing abuse and venomous scowls. Even when you try to be nice, it only makes him crueler, your soft pleas and offers of peace an invitation to tear you down and make you cry. You want to fight, to claw and tear into him out of spite. You don’t want to feel so weak anymore.

So, you decide to do something about it.

It’s late, campus illuminated by street lamps and headlights of cars passing by as you make your way into the dorms. After your first encounter, Aizawa began inviting you back to his room instead of the library, deciding to “study” in his personal space as opposed to possibly getting caught in the library with his cock down your throat. You didn’t complain, but it’s especially convenient today, with what you have planned. Knocking on the door softly, you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, anxious for what’s to come.

“Open,” he calls out from inside, prompting you to enter. You pass through the messy common room he shares with his roommate and enter his bedroom, opening the door quietly. Aizawa’s room is tidy compared to the outside, bed made, tousled only where he sits with his laptop, typing.

“You’re late,” he squints at you from behind the screen, shutting the device. “Not surprising.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, placing your book bag on the floor and taking out the very heavy law textbook (that you hadn’t bothered to open since midterms). You take your seat next to him and open to the most recent chapter you read over. He’s silent, only speaking to answer your questions as you focus on the text. You can tell he’s sleepy, his responses slurred and delayed, and you glance over to see him dozing off. Late study sessions and Aizawa’s recent exhaustion meant more often than not that he fell asleep before tormenting you. The first time was startling, but you learned that it was a regular occurrence. 

You prefer Aizawa when he’s drowsy. His usually hard features were softened, quiet snores rumbling from his chest. His dark hair messily framing his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed, arms folded over his chest. He’s good-looking, no doubt. If his personality matched, you could see yourself falling for him.

His eyes open, shooting you a questioning look, and you duck your head back into your textbook, embarrassed at being caught staring.

You keep quiet for another 20 or so minutes, waiting until he’s truthfully asleep and not just resting. You have to be careful not to wake him, as you aren’t keen on being reprimanded for what you're about to do.

Once you’ve deemed it safe, you stealthily open your bag and retrieve the small plastic bag stored inside. With the help of online shopping, you bought some handcuffs, lube, a dildo, and a harness. You aren’t all into pegging, but this was less about the sex and more about proving yourself, forcing him to respect you, in some perverse way. You retrieve the cuffs, gripping them carefully as to not make any sounds. This is the most crucial part; as long as you could get him restrained, you’d could dish out any revenge you desire. You slip off of the bed and tip-toe, almost comically, around the other side of the bed. You test the waters, snapping your fingers near Aizawa. He doesn’t stir, chest rising and falling with his deep breathing.

You steel yourself with a deep breath; this was your chance. You make quick work with the handcuffs, gently yet hastily clicking the metal around one wrist and looping the cuffs through the headboard before securing his other wrist. A grin spreads across your face; you’re thankful he’s such a deep sleeper.

Now that you had him where you wanted him, you were paralyzed by the sheer amount of possibilities. You climb over him apprehensively, hovering over the unconscious man, who only shifts minutely. The peaceful look on his face puts a small pit in your stomach; this was wrong… right? Technically, this was assault. You frown, a small chill running down your spine. Is this what you had become? It was almost enough to convince you to stop, but you force yourself to remember the first time Aizawa had his way with you, the way you choked and gagged and had to hide your face until you could find a bathroom to wipe off the dried cum that adhered to your skin.

This was his fault; he made you like this.

“Fuck it,” you say aloud, bracing yourself before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking, hard. He awakes with a surprised gasp, wrenching his head away from the assault.

“The fuck?” He bites, eyes drowsily scouring the situation. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Just waking you up,” you smile, releasing your grip. “It’s kind of boring watching you sleep. I thought we were supposed to be studying.”

Aizawa gives you an agitated look, disoriented as he tries to move, only to find his range of motion limited. “You fucking handcuffed me?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t wake up,” you chuckle, sliding your hands under his shirt and running your hands over his taut stomach. He keeps his eyes on you with an expectant expression, waiting for an explanation.

“You know, I like you so much more when you're asleep,” you continue, idly tracing patterns on the skin of his abdomen. “No insults, no curses, no glaring. You’re pretty handsome when you’re not being a total douchebag.”

“Let me go,” he ignores you, yanking the handcuffs. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s pretty funny, actually. You’ve spent all semester treating me like shit, and for what? All I’ve done is be nice to you, even after you call me names and abuse me. It hurts my feelings, you know? It’s not like I’m trying to fail this class, I just needed a little extra help, and you take advantage of that every week. So I do think this is pretty fucking hilarious. Maybe you’ll see just how great I feel when you bully me.”

If looks could kill, your heart would have stopped right then and there. Rage burns behind his glare when he meets your eyes, still struggling to break the cuffs. You’d never seen him like this; at his worst, he seems moderately annoyed in your day to day. Despite being an insufferable asshole, he always manages to keep a cool air about him. Never giving anyone much of a reaction, he’s only nasty when he desires. Watching his face take a red tint and his eyes narrow in frustration send waves of satisfaction rippling through your chest. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he grits out, “If you let me go now, I’ll forget all about this. I promise that you don’t want what’s coming for you once I get out of these cuffs.”

He did have a point; you had no idea what you were doing. That wasn’t going to stop you, though.

“Aw, it’s not so fun now, isn’t it?” You coo at him in a demeaning tone, pouting dramatically. Your wandering hands slid to his crotch, where you could feel his length stirring curiously. You bark out a laugh.

Pulling down his sweats and boxers, your mouth waters at his hardening length. Normally, your stomach would drop at the sight in anticipation for physical abuse you were about to receive. But this? This was different; knowing that you’re the one in control is absolutely captivating. You take his cock in your hands, slowly working your hand up and down. He stays silent in defiance, steady in his glare in an attempt to intimidate you. It would work, usually, but with his hands bound there was nothing he could do to you. He’s betrayed by a pleased noise that slips from his throat.

“Don’t tell me you like this? You want to be taken advantage of, is that it?” you taunt, basking in his agitation as you speed your hand up, thumbing the pre gathering on the slit.

“Watch it,” is his only response, voice dangerously low. He keeps quiet, not willing to surrender to the reactions you’re trying to draw from him. It’s a challenge, if anything, and you weren’t going to back down..

He’s fully erect in no time- you’ve spent enough time as his cocksleeve to know exactly what he likes and responds to. His eyes fall shut as you squeeze tighter, hips canting up into your hand, chasing his own release. You keep it up until he gets a little louder, close to release, and you pull your hand away, watching his dick twitch helplessly.

“Fuck- why’d you stop?” he asks groggily, opening his eyes.

“You didn’t think that I was just going to let you cum that easily, did you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” you shuffle off of the bed, smiling over your shoulder as you hook your thumbs in the band of your leggings. You make a show of sliding the material down over your ass, purposefully leaning over and arching your back. You hear a pleased growl from the bed, causing you to giggle as you pull your underwear down as well.

“You could still let me go,” he offers, giving you a once over as you climb back over him, “I could forget about this if you let me fuck you.”

“Nice try, but I’ll be the one doing the fucking tonight,” you grab your bag from the floor, retrieving the lube but leaving the dildo and harness obscured in the bag. You squeeze a generous amount onto your fingers, causing Aizawa to give you a puzzled look.

“You don’t need lube, you’re always so wet for me,” it’s more of a question than an observation, since your previous trysts never included anything but his spit and your own juices. You just give him a smile before nudging his thighs open with your own, trailing your hand slowly beneath his balls, settling in between his ass and your lubed fingers circle the muscle there. The look on his face is priceless, absolutely shocked at the prospect of you inside of him. He thrashes in protest but you’re steadfast, pinning his hips down with your other hand.

“You can’t be serious,” his voice is alarmed, almost erring on the side of anxious, “you’re dumber than I thought if you think you’re just going to get away with any of this shit.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you sing-song, using your dry hand to tug playfully on the cuffs, “You’re a little tied up at the moment.”

“I’m going to beat your cunt up when I get out of these,” it’s a threat, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the words, eyes trained on his as you push two fingers inside.

He grunts, his face scrunching up, almost cutely, at the burn of the stretch. You expected him to be tight, but given how tense he is, it’s difficult to push all the way inside. You take it slow, savoring the pained expression on his face; it’s a stark contrast to his cocky demeanor when you’re being subjugated to his abuse. His chest is heaving, a lovely red flush spreading across his skin, eyebrows knit tight, lips bitten red- you’re obsessed. You move your fingers in and out slowly, scissoring just gently enough not to seriously hurt him, but enough to watch him writhe. His dick twitches despite (or maybe due to?) the pain, still red and dripping.

“This is priceless,” you laugh, “if you wanted to get fucked so badly, all you had to do was ask, you know? Mommy would’ve taken care of it for you.”

“Mommy?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes, “you’re insane.”

Any further insult is cut off with a sharp gasp, eyes shooting open in shock, and you know you’ve found it.

You stroke his prostate with a heavy hand, grinding your fingers into the spongy spot inside of him as he struggles to breathe, back arching deliciously. You can’t help but smirk; you kind of get it now. If this is how tormenting you makes Aizawa feel, then you understand why he was so cruel.

“Fuck,” he chokes on a whine that sends heat down your spine, . Your wrist is beginning to strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s cute; he’s writhing, his hips seeking the stimulation he was previously avoiding as he moans openly, loudly. His cock is an angry purple, pre pooling on his stomach from where it’s leaking. He looks like he’s close, eyes beginning to roll back when you pull your fingers out, laughing as you ruin his orgasm for the second time.

“Please,” he’s breathless, a betrayed look on his face as his hips rock on nothing, desperate to cum.

“Begging already? We haven’t even gotten started yet!”

You reach over into the plastic bag, pulling out the dildo and harness. You can clearly see the fear on his face this time as he moves to sit up, the fog of pleasure clearing quickly.

“Wait,” panic sets in his voice yet again. If you were him, you would be scared too; the toy is thicker than the two fingers you used, something you chose purposefully. You stand and slip on the harness, ignoring his attempts to reason with you.

“What’s wrong? I thought I didn’t know what I was doing?” you ask innocently, forcing your hips between his legs and drizzling some lube on the toy, warming it up with your palm.

“That’s the fucking problem, you idiot, you don’t,” he seethes, pulling on the restraints again, “It won’t fit, and you’re not sending me to the hospital.”

“Exactly, I won’t send you to the hospital. Mommy’s gonna take good care of you,” you coo, settling between his legs.

“Just let me go,” it’s the first genuine plea you’ve heard from him, the sincerity pulling your attention to his eyes where you see a look you can’t quite place. He looks… afraid? Remorseful? It’s enough to give you pause, equal parts consideration and schadenfreude. You settle for leaning forward and placing an uncharacteristically saccharine kiss on his forehead, your humanity getting the best of you.

“All you have to do is relax, okay?” you whisper, resting the tip of the toy against his entrance. He shuts his eyes in anticipation, resigned to his fate, and you push in gently, watching his hole swallow the silicone. The way Aizawa contorts, back bowed to scoot away from the pressure of the toy is salacious, drawing a moan from deep within your chest. He can’t get far due to the restraints, and he lets out a soft sob at the stretch of the toy, face scrunched tight. You push slowly until you bottom out, your hips pressed firmly against his, grinding in small circles to alleviate your own ache. He exhales shakily, unaware that he was holding his breath.

“See, it’s not so bad right?” you soothe, rubbing your thumb against his hip soothingly. “You should be grateful; I’m so much nicer than you are.”

“Fuck you,” it comes out weaker than intended, his voice strained as he tries to adjust to the girth of the toy. 

You pull out slowly, experimentally, watching his stomach clench from the sensation of silicone caressing his insides. His dick gives an interested twitch, despite his demeanor, and that’s the invitation you need to start moving. It’s a little awkward at first, but your enthusiasm combined with the size of the toy more than makes up for your inexperience. He’s breathless, still uncomfortable, but you can see his body slowly relax as he tries to make sense of the sensations coursing through his body.

“You like this, don’t you?” you dig, eyes transfixed on his face, “Is that why you're so mean to me? You strut around like an asshole, just to hide the fact that you’re just a little bitch?”

You focus on angling your hips, searching for his prostate again, and when you find it, you commit to fucking him. He’s loud, stray tears sliding down his face as his body struggles to comprehend both the pain of the stretch and pleasure of the abuse.

“Fuck, you’re cute like this,” you sigh, “you’re meant for this, aren’t you? Meant to get your ass bred by your Mommy? You’d be so much more tolerable if you were sweet like this all of the time.”

His dick jerks violently but he shakes his head with a weak ‘no’, too lost in the sensation to retort any further. You’re soaked by now, the pressure of the toy on your end combined with the power trip pushing you to the edge. It takes all of your self-control, but you suddenly stop, unwilling to let yourself finish so quickly; there’s still unfinished business here.

“Tell me I’m pretty,” it comes out before you can even really think about it, but the words hang heavily in the air.

“Huh?”

“You’re never nice to me, so if you want me to even consider letting you cum, you better start kissing up.”

He hesitates, but when you shift slightly and the blunt head of the toy rubs against his prostate, he changes his tune very quickly.

“Fuck- you’re cute, ‘s the reason why I’m mean to you. So cute when you’re about to cry-” you give him a particularly hard slap on his ass and he winces, muttering a quick apology.

“You’re pretty even when I’m not fucking you, too,” is all you get, but it’s the first genuine compliment you’ve gotten out of the asshole since you’ve met him, and your heart soars. He’s awful and mean and evil but the simple statement is enough for you.

“I’ll let you cum if you beg for it,” you grunt, rutting your hips enthusiastically. You’re close, but you refuse to finish first. He’s needy, thanks to being edged twice, and he’s unable to resist your promise.

“Please, fuck, please let me cum,” he whimpers, voice wet and eyes watery.

“Please what?”

“Mommy! Fuck, please mommy, just let me cum, it hurts, fuck, please,” he babbles, and it’s enough for you. You wrap your hand around his cock and stroke it firmly, hips speeding up as you chase your own release. It’s quick- he finishes almost embarrassingly fast, and the whorish wail that rips from his throat sends you right over the edge, your vision blurring at the corners as you stay trained on his face, obscene and submissive.

It’s quiet after you stop, both of you catching your breath. You pull out slowly, watching the way his hole flutters and you giggle, your body and ego fully satiated. You look back to his face; he looks more fucked out than you’ve ever seen him, almost like he’s about to fall back asleep.

“Can we call it a truce?” You break the silence, grinning as he cracks open an eye to give you a scalding look.

“Fuck. You.”

[castexpectopatronum]

Liquid Amber - Part III [Remus Lupin x Reader Imagine]

Summary: You had been crushing on Remus Lupin for an eternity when you finally decided to ask him out. However, things do not go as planned and you remain wondering just what exactly is going on with this boy.

notes: reupload because the original got deleated

trigger warnings: none

word count: 1.9k

Masterlist

What was Remus Lupin hiding?

The question was burning inside of you ever since your encounter in the corridor a few days ago. And even though you knew that it was none of your business, you still were determined to find out.

Concerning this matter, it was fortunate you fancied Remus as that made you far more observant of him. Whenever you could, you shot glances at him, during meals and classes, and paid special attention to his behaviour. You did notice that he seemed rather sick, he looked pale and peaky and he seemed to be growing weaker by each day.

Then, he disappeared. When you stepped into the Transfiguration classroom one day, already late, only to find his seat empty, a deep frown appeared on your face. His friends, James, Sirius and Peter, were there, but unusually quiet and had black shadows under their eyes. Peter even fell asleep during the lesson; his soft snores filled the classroom until Sirius nudged him with his ellbow causing Peter to almost fall from his chair. You observed them carefully while pretending to listen to Professor McGonagall’s lecture. Perhaps the Marauders had pulled off an all-nighter of some sort but that still didn’t explain Remus’ absence. Maybe he had a hangover – although you failed to imagine Remus as some kind of party animal.

Remembering how sickly he had looked the day before, you decided to check the Hospital Wing for him and bring Remus some chocolate bars from Honeyduke’s which you knew he loved.

However, when you entered the Hospital Wing, you found that it was already occupied. James, Sirius and Peter were huddled around a bed at the far corner of the room, hiding the person lying in it from your view. The expression upon their faces turned into one of surprise once they spotted you, mirroring your own.

“Sorry,” you said, taken aback by their presence – although now that you thought about it, you should have expected it. “I didn’t know you were here. I was just looking for Remus.”

The three of them exchanged looks, as if they knew something you didn’t, and stood up.

“No problem, we just wanted to leave, anyway,” Sirius said. Next moment, he groaned all of a sudden, leaving you to raise your eyebrows in surprise. James bent down to whisper something in Remus’ ear who looked rather alarmed. He replied something in a hushed voice but James simply gave him a crooked grin, patted him gently on the shoulder and barely gave Sirius and Peter the chance to say their goodbyes before he pushed them towards the door. Playing with your sleeves, you observed them with furrowed eyebrows.

“Y’know, if it’s not a good time, I can come back tomorrow or-”

“Nonsense, the time is perfect,” James interrupted.

“Just make sure to be gentle with him,” said Peter in a concerned voice. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Just a nasty flu, tha’s all,” said Sirius quickly, shooting Peter a warning glance. “Nothing to worry about. Give it a few days and he’ll be as good as new.” He turned to his friends. “C’mon, we best be going.” They shot you one last glance and Peter flashed a smile, then the door closed behind them, the sound echoing in the room, leaving you and Remus alone in the Hospital Wing.

You turned around to him and chuckled nervously. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Remus didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. He didn’t give any indication whatsoever that he was happy to see you. He simply stared at you, his eyes shining like liquid amber.

“What are you doing here?”

“I missed you in class today. Here.” You placed the chocolate bars on the nightstand next to his bed. “A little something to cheer you up. Thought you could use it.”

Remus nodded weakly. “Thank you,” he muttered and watched you sit down on a chair.

You smiled sheepishly. “So, the flu, eh?”

Remus shrugged and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “Happens to the best of us.”

You took in his appearence with furrowed eyebrows. Remus was whiter than the bedsheets, his face was hallow, and his eyes, usually so attentive and full of warmth, were now dull. Dark bags circling them, and he looked very thin and weak. You doubted he even had the strength to get up.

“How are you feeling?”

Remus turned his head away from you and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m fine.”

You cocked your head. “And Dumbledore isn’t two-hundred years old.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t think he’s quite that old.”

“How would you know? Do you know when he was born?”

“No wizard gets that old.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Dumbledore did. The man is ancient.”

This finally evoqued a smile from him which you couldn’t help but return. But he remained silent.

“You don’t really have the flu, do you?”

Remus’ head spun around, and although he hid it quickly and put on a neutral expression, you did not miss the flash of panic in his eyes.

“Of course I have the flu. What else should I have?”

“Remus, you’re as white as a ghost. The flu is terrible but it doesn’t make you look as if you’re on the brink of death.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you had hit a nerve. Remus’ jaw clenched and his eyes suddenly turned colder. He turned his head to stare at the ceiling, avoiding the worried yet piercing look in your eyes.

“It’s a nasty one.”

You snorted. “Sure. Don’t try and fool me, Remus. I know a flu when I see it and whatever it is that you have, it’s not that.”

He didn’t respond.

You sighed, regretting the harsh tone in your voice. “Listen, Remus... You don’t have to tell me what you have or why you get sick so often. But... I just want you to know that I’m there for you if you ever do want to talk about it. And whatever it is – I can’t imagine it could change my opinion on you.” You gave your best to give him an encouraging smile and stood up. “You should eat some chocolate. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

You knew he wouldn’t answer but still lingered for several moments to a least give him the opportunity to. When your conviction proved to be right, however, you gave him one last half-hearted smile and left the Hospital Wing.

A part of you had hoped that after this incident Remus and you would grow closer but instead Remus was more determined than ever to avoid you. Every time you passed him in the hallway, you felt a painful sting in your heart. However, the original issue of Remus refusing to go out with you became less and less important to you although your crush on him grew stronger by each day.

Your academic success was quite average but you weren’t stupid – to you there was no doubt that Remus’s illness was the cause of all this trouble, also considering he often looked pale and sickly. Every time you saw him looking particularly weak, your wish to help him grew even more urgent than before but you could only help him with his condition if you knew what it was – and trying to get Remus to open up about his sickness was about as effective as convincing James of writing a love letter to Snape.

It was two months of this slow torture and several stupid theories later that you realised Remus’s sickness was not only a frequent but also regular occurence. As far as you remembered, he seemed to be getting sick every once a month.

A deep frown appeared on your face and you turned around in your seat to look at Remus who was taking notes on Professor Flitwick’s words. His face was pale again with dark bags circling his eyes. A strange cut peaked out from under his shirt collor.

As if he had felt your intent gaze, Remus suddenly lifted his head. For one moment, is amber eyes burned into yours, then his intense expression turned into one of guilt and he quickly looked back down at his notes.

That day you merely picked at your food, your thoughts far away. Your friend watched in concern as you ripped a breadroll into tiny little pieces without eating any of it, staring absent-mindedly onto the wooden table.

“(Y/N), are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up, halting in your motion. “Yeah, I uh...” You hesitated, looking at the breah crumbs in your hand. “Actually, I still got something to do, uh...” Pushing your plate away, you stood up from the dining table, your friend watching you in confusion. “I’ll catch you up later,” you promised and left the Great Hall before your friend had even opened their mouth to protest.

The library was dead quiet as every student was at dinner which was very much to your liking. That way you could follow your suspicions without having to worry about anybody asking unwanted questions.

Pensively, you let your fingers brush over the back of the old books until you finally pulled one out, feeling the weight of it in your hands. You viewed the cover thoughtfully for a moment before you tucked it under your arm and continued to collect more books.

Half an hour later, you carried a great stash of books out of the library, carefully transporting them the long way to your common room as they didn’t all fit into your bag.

“What the hell is that?” your friend asked incredulously as you entered your dorm room and let the books fall onto your bed where they scattered all over your blanket.

“Books,” you answered.

Your friend raised their eyebrows. „Really,“ they said blankly. „Good thing you explained that, I had no idea.“ You threw them an half-annoyed, half-amused glance as they strolled over to your bedside and viewed the book titles.

“Magical Diseases and Epidemics,” they read aloud, “Dragon Pox or Measles? An Encyclopedia on Magical Maladies.” They raised their head to look at you, their eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in their hairline. “Are you sick?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head, and started stacking the books on the nightstand, pushing your friend aside as you did. “It’s ... a new hobby.”

“A hobby?”

“Yes. That’s what you call an enjoyable freetime activity.”

“I didn’t know purulent dragon pox were an enjoyable free time activity.”

You threw her an annoyed glance as you put another book on the growing stack. “It’s an interesting topic as I have realised.”

“And you had to skip dinner to get those books?”

“Yes,” you said, avoiding your friend’s eyes.

You knew they didn’t believe a single thing you said but thankfully, they didn’t further inquire. Instead, they rolled their eyes and let themselves fall onto their own bed. “I always knew you were weird,” they said. “Just make sure you don’t actually get sick. I don’t fancy getting dragon pox.”

“No one is going to get dragon pox,” you replied, but a small smile was tugging at your lips. The two of you walked down to your common room to do your homework which, although you had quite some trouble concentrating on, you hurried to finish, so you could get back to your books.

Remus Lupin had a problem and you were determined to find out what it was.

[mythicamagic]

“Call it a truce”

(For the prompt if you’d like)

They'd crossed paths eight times now inside the godforsaken maze. Naraku had placed them under some sort of spell- Kagome wasn’t totally sure if her friends were also somewhere inside. It had all happened way too quickly. One second she’d been fighting alongside her comrades- the next, waking up inside a bizarre hellscape.

Sadly the only person she’d seen thus far was Sesshoumaru of all demons. When they’d first bumped into each other- blue and gold had narrowed- both quickly turning in the opposite directions.

Gradually, however, time wore on. A continuous mist obscured every corner of the black maze, its towering walls strangled by twisting, thorny vines. Red skies hung overhead, a barrier likely preventing Sesshoumaru from flying upwards, otherwise he would've escaped by now.

Kagome had just one arrow and one weathered bow. No food, and no water. Just the clothes on her back and strung out nerves, wits starting to fray at the edges. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the empty space. The mist kept rolling, making her paranoid- imagining salivating demons and evil spirits haunting her steps.

Am I going to die in here?

Gritting blunt teeth, Kagome let out a frustrated noise- wrapping her hands around the nearest thorny vines and letting reiki burst free from her fingertips. Maybe she could just blast her way through the wall. Pink light glowed like a signal flare, shimmering and giving her a brief taste of renewed hope.

“It will not work.”

She frowned, registering Sesshoumaru’s acerbic tone. Just as he’d said, when her holy light died, the thorns remained.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder, finding him closer than expected. She shifted warily to maintain some distance. They’d refrained from talking so far during their encounters in the maze. This was unexpected. And worrying. If Sesshoumaru was out of options, things were dire.

“Flying is a no go, I’m guessing?"

He stiffly nodded in response, head tilting back to gaze hatefully at the high walls. Kagome shivered, wrapping both arms around herself. “Damn it. I have no idea what to do. I can sense Naraku’s youki but it's everywhere so there's no chance of pinpointing him. It’s soaked into the air like gasoline."

"I am also unable to locate the wretch."

Kagome blinked, glad he was reciprocating conversation.

"We're locked in a spell or under a curse, I’ve got no doubt about that. I just don’t know if these are our real bodies or not…”

Were they trapped somewhere mentally? Caged like birds?

Sesshoumaru levelled a look down to her hands, gesturing with a claw. “The cuts do not hurt?”

Kagome blinked, flexing her fingers. She hadn’t even realised they’d been pricked by the thorns. “N-no.”

“Then it appears he has either somehow trapped us within a space that has absorbed our conscious minds or put us in an area that dulls the senses. Perhaps a keeper box of some kind," Sesshoumaru said easily, as though he did this all the time.

Kagome’s heart pumped at a dizzying speed. Keeper box. She'd been in one of those before. The face of sage Tokajin came to mind. “Crap,” she whispered.

"Unpleasant memories, miko?" a lofty, entertained tone brushed her hearing.

Kagome sneered half-heartedly, "it's nothing."

Sesshoumaru's eyes glowed, smiling. As if he could see right through her. "Hn."

“We gotta get out of here," she said dismissively. "Since this is Naraku we’re dealing with- I doubt just finding the centre of this maze will let us get outta here and break the curse, and knowing him there’s no exit.”

“Hn, and yet I can think of nothing else after trying everything."

Kagome gave him a sweeping glance over, swallowing. She hadn’t seen him since he’d nearly killed Kohaku- still thankful he’d released the mind controlled boy.

They were still technically enemies despite a shared goal of killing Naraku.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath. She then boldly stuck a hand out towards him. “Let’s work together. We haven’t got much choice. Call it a truce.”

Silence.

Kagome chanced a look at his face.

Sesshoumaru merely stared at the offered hand unblinkingly. Kagome giggled weakly. “A-ah, you shake it. It’s an ‘across the seas’ type of gesture to show we’re sealing a deal.”

Interest livened his animalistic gaze. He briefly seemed considering, perhaps wondering about her origins. Long fingers unfurled from his palm, clasping her hand strongly. The shock of skin to skin contact and sharp claws nearly jerked Kagome enough to rip her hand free. She forced herself to stay still, feeling a surge of something shoot down to her toes.

He was warmer than expected. It surprised her that callouses roughened his palm, likely from years of swordplay. She'd always figured he was too inhumanly perfect to have such a thing. Sesshoumaru blinked slowly, remaining locked in a stare. For a moment, Kagome dumbly admired his pretty white lashes.

She caught herself staring and briskly shook his hand, prying her fingers free before gesturing to several pathways, cheeks red. “S-so which way?”

Mokomoko’s soft fur caressed the bare flesh of her lower thigh in passing as Sesshoumaru stepped towards one. “I have yet to take this path. Stay close, troublesome miko," he threw over one shoulder. "I will not slow down for you.”

“Please don’t. You walk slow enough as it is,” Kagome griped, following.

---

Demons began littering the narrow, claustrophobic spaces within the maze. Kagome had to duck and weave around Sesshoumaru as he killed them with acid or fierce swipes of his claws. It forced them to get up close and personal, occasionally plastering miko and Daiyoukai together.

His scent wafted into her unwilling nose more than once- masculine and sharp, reminding her of thunderstorms. Since she couldn’t use her reiki with much finesse yet and the close quarters put her archery skills at a disadvantage, Kagome tried her best to be helpful.

“Behind you!” she’d yell, ducking under his arm before grasping his sleeve. “On your right!”

Sesshoumaru dispatched enemies without argument or complaint, calmly moving on once they lay dead.

As time dragged on, Kagome’s legs began to ache from the endless walking. Her stomach grumbled near constantly. Her limbs and body were becoming weak.

She didn’t breathe a word about it- though noticed Sesshoumaru’s lingering attention. Turning a corner, she stumbled, an arm catching her around the waist, steadying.

Kagome’s belly fluttered, and she quickly straightened. “Thanks.”

“Hn.”

They book occasional breaks, but respite was near impossible with the continued droves of enemies. After what she could only guess to be at least 17 hours- though it felt like days, they finally arrived at the centre of the maze. Exhausted, Kagome kept a hand buried within mokomoko to keep her upright, leaning against the stability he offered. They’d shed a lot of restraint about touch around hour 9 of their journey.

As first suspected however, there was nothing in the middle of the maze. Just a plain space with a single fountain. They hadn’t come across a single exit either.

Kagome’s knees quivered a little, “d-do you have a plan B?” she rasped, throat dry. What she wouldn’t give for some water.

Sesshoumaru stared grimly ahead, slowly lowering his calm attention to her. If she could hazard a guess, he was likely thinking he could survive. He’d weather the storm of hunger and dehydration much longer than she.

“I suspect the reason Naraku lingers is because he predicted I would kill you,” his velvety voice was completely at odds with his words.

Kagome stiffened, leaning slightly away from the warmth of luxurious furs. “...That would make sense,” the admission slipped out, “he’s a sadistic prick. He’s probably watching us right now, getting his kicks from seeing us struggle.”

Sesshoumaru turned to her, lifting a clawed hand. The sharp points gleamed. They could tear through her supple flesh and bones with ease. Kagome had witnessed it enough times to know.

Rendered completely exhausted though, she had little room left for fear. She stared at him blandly, falling quiet.

He arched a brow, resting those deadly claws against her flushed skin, gradually unfurling to hold her neck. “You will not resist?”

“I’ve never taken you to be the kinda guy who would take the easy way out,” Kagome muttered, raising her chin. “Am I wrong?”

Was it her imagination or did his pupils dilate a touch?

She shivered, feeling the pads of his fingers drag against the nape of her delicate neck, thumb resting at her throat.

“No,” he rumbled softly, gripping tighter and drawing her in closer. “But since we have an audience, miko,” his voice lowered, “let us give him a show.”

Blue eyes widened- seconds before lips crashed to hers. Kagome gasped- and a sinuous tongue took advantage, shoving inside to plunder her mouth. Sensation slammed into her gut. Suddenly she was immediately aware of everything. The warmth of his palm, the dry rub of his callouses along her neck. The goosebumps rising on her flesh. How his tongue skilfully played, twined and slid against her own- and she found herself responding.

His lips were hot and quick across her own, firm and yielding and then parting to meet her tongue with his anew. Kagome’s breath shuddered. Her entire body thrummed. She found herself touching the fine, soft locks of silver hair behind his ear, strands running through her fingers like water. Their mouths broke apart, and Kagome could only give a breathy gasp as he sucked along the bent arch of her throat.

“Behind me, to the left,” he whispered, kissing her flesh bruisingly hard.

“I know,” she panted.

It happened quickly. They moved in sync- Kagome reaching for her bow and nocking her single arrow while Sesshoumaru turned, angling her to fire at the faint ripple in the sky they’d both sensed the second they’d kissed.

While the blazing firework of pure holy energy streaked into the air, the Daiyoukai followed its progress, flying with Kagome in tow. She held on around his shoulders, praying with all her might it would break through.

Her arrow pierced the demonic barrier- shattering the weak spot immediately. Sesshoumaru broke through, leaving the world of red skies and unsolvable mazes behind.

---

Kagome sucked in a gasping, strangled breath, shooting upright.

“Kagome! She’s awake, guys!”

Putting a hand to her head, she looked to her side- only to be greeted with the sight of Sesshoumaru sitting up from the ground, both of them having been sprawled out. Around them, battle raged. Inuyasha was fighting diligently, swiping madly at continuous rounds of regenerating tentacles.

Miroku and Sango seemed to be on guard duty, having been defending their unconscious bodies. Shippo immediately buried his face in Kagome’s arm, holding onto her. “You’ve been asleep for a good hour after you were both hit by that attack! Naraku kept trying to kill you! Ah- I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Kagome comforted him with a few gentle pats upon his head, murmuring softly. The shifting of weight caught her attention, and she watched as Sesshoumaru stood. He sneered softly to himself, “I do not know why you saw fit to protect this one, but I did not need your aid, humans.”

“I told ya!” Inuyasha shouted from somewhere in the distance.

“We couldn’t let you be absorbed by Naraku or he’d be even more formidable,” Sango griped.

“What my friends mean to say is- you’re welcome, Lord Sesshoumaru,” Miroku amiably smoothed over the situation.

Sesshoumaru grunted, securing his swords in place. Then, slowly, his eyes lowered.

Kagome exhaled a shuddering breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, cheeks burning with all the voracity of a fever, chest light and heavy all at once. Sesshoumaru’s gaze fell to the subtle parting of her mouth, before looking her in the eye for just one more lingering moment. He then moved out from behind the protection Sango and Miroku offered, racing headfirst into battle.

He just did it to break the spell, that’s all.

He’d kissed her to help flush out a weak spot from their enemy, which had opened from Naraku's shock- having lost brief control of the spell. Thinking about it as anything more than that would be foolish.

Shaking herself, Kagome followed suit. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, pushing down all confused thoughts and sensations that Sesshoumaru’s wicked mouth had elicited- entering the fray alongside her friends.

[theoreticslut]

O’ Captain, My Captain // s.r.

steve rogers x reader

requested: no - # 2/7 for my 2k writing challenge where I used all of the day’s prompts!

summary: A stealth mission gone wrong leads to some injuries and an accidental sharing of feelings. 

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mentions of fighting & injuries, very slight angst if you squint, fluff

A/N: I debated posting this tonight bc I already posted a fic, but you know what? fuck it. I don’t want to wait forever to post this bc I like it. I’m pretty sure this si the first marvel fic I’m posting?? I know I’ve got some that I’ve started before this one, but I don’t think I’ve posted any yet?? Idk. I hope you like this!! Xx

“Would you be quiet?” You huff, shaking your head at the blonde man walking beside you.

For someone who has supposedly done stealth missions before, you’re questioning how he ever managed. You swear that since you step foot in the base, he hasn’t stopped talking. Honestly you’re not sure how you haven’t been found out or caught yet.

“At this point, if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“We won’t get caught, y/n. Settle down.” Steve huffs, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

As soon as the words leave his lips, you hear a loud clang from somewhere behind you, although it could be in front of you as the hallway you’re currently in is awful echoey. 

Senses heightened, you find yourselves surveying the entirety of the hallway before even considering moving.

“Won’t get caught, huh? Say that again and I’ll try to believe you.” 

“Just stay alert. I’m not going to let you get caught, but that doesn’t mean anything if you don’t make it out of here.”

“Got it. Stay alive.” You quip, not able to keep your sarcasm at bay.

~.~

“Cap!” You shout as one of the bad guys sneak up on his backside.

You had managed to get through the hall, and even all the way to the basement laboratory before the two of you encountered hydra goons. 

It would have been fine, if you had paid attention when they first attacked you. Instead, you twisted your ankle and fell backwards when trying to dodge their advances because you hadn’t paid attention to the layout of the room. This meant that Steve had to help you up before helping himself, leaving him open to attack.

“Got it. Are you good?” He checks, glancing back at you as you get your footing, your ankle already screaming at you.

“Yep. I’ve got it. Let’s take care of them.” You reassure, ignoring the pain in your ankle as you ready yourself for combat.

Dodging an attack from some short, dark-haired hydra agent, you sweep your leg out to trip him, pinning him to the ground with a few simple jabs at certain pressure points.

You catch sight of Steve fighting off a handful of agents himself, but before you can even think of helping out you’re being cornered by two new agents.

It doesn’t take you too long to take them down, but as soon as they're taken care of there’s more advancing. 

You honestly can’t tell how long you’ve been fighting now. It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, but time passes differently when you’re trying to survive.

In all honesty, you’re getting worn out, but you know that the second you let it fully take over your body will be the second you fall. That means that even though your muscles are burning and you’re hardly able to take a deep breath anymore, you keep pushing and fighting.

“Y/n, look out!” Steve shouts, spotting a stray agent getting ready to attack you.

You don’t register his words in time though as you get thrown back by the agent, hitting the wall with more force than you had expected. It’s not until he’s stalking towards you do you realize that he must have been another test subject of theirs - gaining super strength at the cost of his humanity.

You attempt to get up to fight back, but the combination of being tired and hitting the wall has your head spinning. As soon as you’re attempting to push yourself up, you’re stumbling down again and dozing off.

~.~

Coming to, the first thing you make out is the small room you’re in. You’re guessing it’s a hotel of some sort by the setup - a small table with a coffee maker, a single dresser with a TV set on top of it, and one sole full-sized bed. The second thing you notice is just how tired you still feel, along with the ache in your entire body.

You groan as you try to sit up, but as soon as you do you begin feeling lightheaded.

“Oh, you’re up. How are you feeling, y/n?” Steve asks as he comes into sight, carrying a couple bags in his hand.

“Sore...those hydra agents were relentless.” You groan, still attempting to push yourself up to a sitting position which is proving to be more difficult than it should be.

He catches you wince lightly, frowning as he sets the bags down on the table to help you.

“Let me help.” 

You sigh, nodding lightly as he carefully wraps an arm around your waist, giving you his other one to pull on.

“Thank you.” You murmur, resting your head against the wall as you shut your eyelids.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah...yeah. Just a little lightheaded.”

He nods, pursing his lips in a frown, watching you take a few breaths to steady yourself.

“You hit that wall hard, after you had already hurt your ankle. I’m sure you’re going to be sore for a few days at least.” He tries to console. He may be good at pep talks, but he’s never been all that great at comforting people.

“Just get me some ibuprofen and I’ll be fine. When are we heading back?” You question, opening your eyes enough to look at him.

“Not for a day or two at the very least. You need to heal some before I’ll even think about getting us back.”

Before you can even register or question his words he’s continuing.

“You might just have a twisted ankle and some soreness here and there, but I doubt it. You’ve got a broken ankle and a concussion at least, on top of various bruises from fighting.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“I’ve seen broken bones and concussions on the battlefield enough times before to have a pretty good idea that you’ve got the same.” He deadpans, but cracks a smirk nevertheless when you roll your eyes.

“Alright Rogers, whatever you say.” 

“I’m really hoping those bags you were carrying contain food. I know for sure that I could eat.” You blatantly hint, drawing a chuckle from the blonde man.

~.~

You can’t stop the yawn that wants to escape your body. It’s been hours now since you woke up to Steve returning, and you are thoroughly exhausted.

Not that you’ve done anything to warrant such exhaustion - since he returned the two of you ate, he tended to your injuries, you both changed into lounge clothes he had picked up, and then watched some tv and chatted.

It’s certainly been nice, but it feels wrong all at the same time. Sure it’s been lovely having the entire evening to hang out with Steve, but you can’t help but feel like you should be doing something. If you’re not trying to get back to headquarters, then you should at least be trying to gather information on the hydra operations you’re trying to take down.

Instead, the two of you have just been laying around, talking and laughing. You’ve watched some rather boring tv before you found a movie that interested the both of you. You can't lie and say it's been torture, because in all reality, it's been more like heaven. 

You never really had a chance to get to know Steve aside from missions and running the Avengers. You had obviously heard stories from some of the other members, but you didn't really know him. 

You've always found him pretty attractive, but he was older than you - even ignoring the 70 year time period that he had been frozen. That, and he was your superior in a way. You knew that you would never have a chance no matter how much you hoped for one.

That's partly why you never got to know him. Sure, you've been dying to every day since you met the man, but you figured that the best way to keep from continually falling for him was to avoid any unnecessary socializing.

“Are you tired?” Steve asks softly, catching you yawning. 

He can’t help but admit to himself that it’s rather adorable seeing you so sleepy, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“A little bit.” You admit, another yawn escaping your body as tears line your waterline.

“Get some rest then. It’s been a long day, y/n.” 

You nod lazily, carefully adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position. 

You hiss, wincing as you put just a bit too much pressure on your ankle and twisting your torso more than you should have. Immediately Steve is checking you over, trying to figure out what happened.

“What happened? Why are you wincing?” He asks, eyes bouncing all over your figure  - from your pained expression to how you're holding yourself tensely.

“I moved the wrong way.” You hiss, trying to breathe through the pain as tears brim your waterline.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks, features relaxing slightly. He had tried his best to tend to your injuries, but there’s only so much he can do here without the proper education or equipment.

“My ribs and ankle.” You sigh, gently relaxing yourself as you attempt to lay down in the bed more.

He nods, pulling the blankets back to grab ahold of your leg to prevent you from applying pressure to the ankle as you wiggle down into the mattress.

Once you’re settled, he helps you get your leg situated so you’re comfortable but the ankle won’t hurt. Then he pulls the blankets back up over your body, tucking you in with a little smile.

“Good night.” He murmurs, starting to walk away from the bed.

“Wait! Where are you going?” 

“Just to the chair over here.” He chuckles, pointing towards the piece of furniture as he watches you pout slightly.

“You’re not sleeping there, are you?”

“Yeah…?” 

He watches your frown deepen, wondering why you’d care. He didn’t want to spend too much on a room, which is why he just got a single. He had already planned on you taking the bed, not thinking it’d matter to you.

“No. That’s going to be so uncomfortable, Steve. You need a bed too.” You pout, watching him as he watches you, confusion plastered on his face.

“….but there’s only the one bed.”

“So? I don’t mind, and I mean, I-“ you stutter, warmth blossoming in your cheeks as he watches you with furrowed brows. 

“You….what?”

“I don’t want to be alone.” You mumble, watching as it finally clicks in his head that you want to share the bed with him.

He mouths a little ‘oh’ before smiling and making his way back over to the bed. You watch with bated breath as he pulls the sheets back again only to crawl in beside you.

“You okay?” He asks, smiling lightly at you, taking in how beautiful you are as he does so.

“Mhm. Are you?”

“I’m perfect. Now get some sleep, y/n.” He chuckles, pulling the blankets over himself.

You whine but nod nonetheless, situating yourself the tiniest bit before you’re closing your eyes, hyper aware of just how close Steve is next to you. If you were brave, all you needed to do was wiggle back about six inches and you’d be curled up in his side. As much as you’d like to, you figure it’s probably best to keep that little bit of space, opting instead to just try to fall asleep.

~.~

Steve groans lightly as something hits him in his sleep. Rubbing his eyes he looks around, frowning when he doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

He finds that he fell asleep to the tv playing, some irrelevant sitcom playing on the screen. Sighing lightly he goes to find the remote, finding that he can’t move.

Looking down, he can’t help the groggy smile that fills his face. Somehow in your sleep you had turned onto your other side from which you fell asleep on, entangling your legs with his while your arm was thrown over his stomach in a hug. He could feel his heart swell as he admired your sleeping form. 

There was no denying that you were attractive. He himself had been attracted to you since you first joined the Avengers. The sole reason he never made any moves was because he could tell you were trying to keep your distance from him. It hurt, but it’s not like it was the end of the world. He figured that you had your reasons for staying away and he wasn’t going to push it.

Now that your body is practically on top of him, though, he can’t help but wonder what the exact reason is for you keeping your distance. He’s tired of it in all honesty. He thought that maybe he could get over his little crush if you were going to stay distant, but his feelings have only grown tenfold.

He can’t walk into any common area of the compound without wondering if you’d be there or if you’d walk in. He’s constantly wondering if you’re thinking the same things of him. He’s always watching you whenever you’re in sight - including during battle, which isn’t the best thing to be doing, but he can’t help it.

“I’m going to take care of you, I promise.” He murmurs, going to press a kiss into your hairline.

“We’re going to get your ankle all fixed up and then I’ll make sure your concussion is getting better. I promised you that you wouldn’t get captured, and I’m promising you now that you’ll heal up just fine.” 

As he talks, he mindlessly plays with the ends of your hair, gently waking you in the process.

“I’ve never broken a promise to you before, and I’m not planning to now. I care for you too much to ever think about hurting you. God it killed me when you passed out. There were still so many hydra agents and I-I just couldn’t let them hurt you. I think I blacked out myself, honestly” he rambles, chuckling lightly, not noticing that your breaths are deeper against his chest.

“I remember watching you pass out and worrying that they’d hurt you while you were out, and then, I don’t know. It’s like I woke up and all the hydra agents were taken care of.”

“All I knew was I had to make sure you were safe. We may not be close, but god do I wish we were. I get that you have your reasons for wanting to keep your distance, but I can’t keep pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I just wish I could say that to you awake…”

You can feel him sigh, and you can tell he’s frowning without even looking at his face. You can’t help but smile lightly, a small blush covering your cheeks as you bury your head into his chest slightly.

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” He mumbled after a moment.

You nod lightly, gently lifting your head to look at him as he chuckles and shakes his head, his hand rubbing at his temples.

“I have feelings for you too, Steve. That’s why I put distance between us. I-I didn’t think I had a chance….” You admit, looking away from him as you continue your thoughts.

“I thought that having some distance between us would help me stop falling for you.” You chuckle.

“Did it?”

“Not at all.” You laugh, blushing wildly as you look up to him to find a large smile on his face.

“Good.”

With a smile he leans down, capturing your lips with his in a near mind blowing kiss. Years of pining and hidden feelings are finally brought forth, and it’s more than you could have ever dreamed. You swear it felt like fireworks were going off throughout your body - your stomach twisting, your heart racing, and every nerve hyper aware of his touch.

Pulling away you can’t help but giggle, giddy off of his touch. He smiles, tucking some hair behind your ear before pressing kisses all over your face.

“I really like you, y/n.”

“I really like you too, Steve. I’m glad that you were there to make sure I was okay.” You giggle, pressing one last soft kiss to his lips before settling back into bed beside him. 

Making sure that the tv is off, Steve wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his body so there’s not an inch of skin without yours upon it. Of course he makes sure you’re comfortable first and that you’re not hurting anywhere. As soon as he’s sure that you’re okay, he presses another kiss to your hairline, whispering sweet words and promises to you as you drift off to sleep once again.

As he feels your breaths become shallower, he can’t help the content smile on his lips. Playing with your hair as you sleep, he drifts off for the night with you.

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