#its one of those nights again. sorry. my heart aches again and i thought id finally at least be bodily better soon. now im nauseous | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

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You Can Make It Up To Me

Ok sorry if its too late or its already been done just thought id ask anyway, for the 1000 followers celebration why not throw it back to the early days, what about a sequel to "I'll make it up to you" based on another time rog comes home after being away for a while? Maybe reader cant keep to her promise this time? 😊 have been hooked on your writing since I read that fic!! ❤

I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Rog, sub!Reader, edging and denial, chastity belt, oral sex (male receiving), facial, mentions of spanking though it doesn’t really feature, mentions of cockwarming though it doesn’t really feature either, it’s really just a fuckload of edging lmao

Words: 9,307

A/N: Listen, ya’ll should know by now I have a denial kink. You suggest a fic with edging and i fucking run with it.

This was another request from my 1000 followers celebration roughly a year ago. Apologies to the person who requested it for taking so long, I hope you’re still around and you see this!

Taglist: @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies

You’d thought edging for a week was hard. Oh how wrong you’d been. A week was a piece of fucking cake compared to the two months you’d been asked to endure this time. Stupid Roger. Stupid you. You’d been a fool to agree to the edging challenge again. You let Roger sweet talk you and convince you it’d be fun and hot and maybe he was a little bit right. Maybe you were turned on just from the suggestion of being edged for an extended period of time. He knew that and he used it against you as he cooed about how much he loved seeing you desperate and how good it had been last time he’d been away and how much fun you’d had playing with it all those times since, but they’d all been so short and wouldn’t it be fun to go for longer. And that was all very true, but you’d still been an idiot to agree to it. Two months! What had you been thinking? You supposed it could be worse. They could have been doing the whole tour in one hit, leaving you with much longer to get through. But that was by the by really. You’d never have lasted longer. You hadn’t even lasted the two months you’d agreed to. Roughly half a month from Roger’s return and you’d fucked up. Gone over the edge without meaning to. And he was going to call at the previously agreed upon check in time and you’d have to tell him and then be punished when he got home. Maybe you could distract him, get him talking about the tour and stuff. Technically you were meant to save all the chatting for the end of the week when he could call earlier and spend longer on the phone but maybe he’d be so homesick he’d forget about the rules you’d agreed on. Or maybe you could just lie about it and get back into your edging routine and still be the same drippy mess he expected to find waiting for him on his return. Ten minutes until he was supposed to call. You had to make your mind up now.

“Love?” “Hi Rog,” You were still apprehensive about the call but the weary drawl in his voice softened your worry, “you sound tired.” “Only just got back to the hotel, how’s my girl?” “Good, how are you? How’s the tour going?” “Love, you know this isn’t a social call, it’s a check in.” Damn. So much for distracting him. “Sorry, I just miss you.” “I miss you too Y/N.” “So let’s just talk for a minute.” A feeble last ditch effort really. “We can talk. About how your edging is going. Tell me what my slut’s been up to.” Double damn. “I’ve been edging Sir,” “Good. How many times today?” “Six.” “Only six?” “I, uh, I got caught up doing o-other things and, um, didn’t have as much time today,” you hoped he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. “Is that so? This from the same slut who told me about how she’d been so desperate while driving the two minutes to the supermarket that she’d pulled over halfway to knock one out.” His weariness seemed to evaporate with every word, “What were you doing that was so distracting?” “I- um, it was, um,” He let you stutter and sweat a little before he cut you off, “I’m starting to think you weren’t too preoccupied. I’m starting to think you disobeyed me.” “It was an accident,” you sighed, “I was edging and I slipped up and came. I’m sorry.” “Oh, love, that’s okay. Mistakes happen. And I know we’ve never done it for this long before and it must be so hard to keep stopping.” “It’s so hard!” you half laughed, relieved at his reaction. “I know. You’ve done so well.” “Thank you,” “But you know I will have to punish you when I get home right,” “Sir?” “Not because you slipped over the edge, that I understand completely. But you tried to hide it from me. So you’ll have to make it up to me.” “Yes Sir. How?” “I’m not sure yet. Have you edged much since you went over?” “No, I haven��t touched myself at all. I wasn’t sure I could start again and keep up with it.” “That’s okay. You did such a good job getting this far so we’re not going to worry about edging any more for these last…how many? I think ten days of the tour, whatever. You can have as many orgasms as you want. But I want you to keep count for me okay?” “Okay, yeah, I can do that.” “Yeah? That’s my girl. Why don’t you run grab your vibrator and let me hear you have one now,” “Now?” “I need something to wank to if I’m going to get to sleep any time soon.” “Right, give me two minutes to grab it.” “Take your time, love.”

You hurried to the bedroom to pull open the draw where you kept your toys, not wanting to keep Roger waiting longer than you had to. Your fingers slipped a little as you quickly plugged it into the wall and positioned yourself, picking the phone up and pressing it back to your ear. “Okay, I got it,” “Let me hear it,” You turned it on for a couple of seconds. “Good girl. Now, what are you wearing?” Despite how worn out he must have felt Roger took his time. He made you describe the underwear you wore and told you how he wanted you to touch yourself over your knickers, made you tease yourself while he listened. He told you where to put the vibrator and on which setting and for how long. And you followed every instruction as best you could. You could feel the weeks of edging like every unachieved orgasm was gathered in the pit of your stomach. They made you ache for release. You told Roger as much, less eloquently, begging and whining rather than full sentences. There was a fear he’d lied about letting you cum or that at the very least he was going to make you wait for it. But he didn’t. All you had to say was please Sir and he told you to let go. He didn’t need to tell you twice. Relief washed through every inch of you as your pleasure cracked moans subsided. But he wasn’t finished, and he wasn’t going to let you off so easily. He gave you half a minute to catch your breath and thank him and then he told you to put the vibrator back against your clit. When you whined about being sensitive, he mocked you. His poor pathetic slut who was so worked up she just had to have an orgasm. “But I haven’t had mine and I told you I wanted to listen to you while I got off.” You came again as his grunts of release echoed down the phone line and he let you stop. But he was gentle as you caught your breath, soft words of praise making you feel warm and treasured. He made sure you were okay, reminding you to drink some water and get some rest, before he wished you goodnight, the tiredness returned to his voice, stronger than ever. But his parting reminder to keep count and expect his call the next night sent a shiver down your spine.

Over the six and a half weeks since Roger had left you’d grown accustomed to X-rated dreams. Most nights ended with an edge or two and most mornings began the same way so it was no wonder your dreams quickly picked up the theme and ran with it. In them Roger returned early to surprise you and fuck your brains out. Or else he took you on tour and dressed you in skanky clothes that left nothing to the imagination so he could use you whenever he needed. Sometimes he’d share you with rooms full of men you didn’t recognise but understood worked with the band. Once or twice you’d woken up on the verge of release and cursed dream Roger for being so arousingly evil. You hadn’t expected to have one of those dreams after Roger overstimulated you on the phone but you woke the next morning grinding against the bunched up sheets, with a vague memory of Roger plowing you over his drumkit while a crowd of fans cheered him on. It wasn’t until you were rubbing the sleep from your eyes that you realised it couldn’t have been real. And it was followed by a moment of panic that you’d gone over the edge in your sleep before you remembered everything. The recollection brought a smile to your face as your fingers slipped between your legs. Still a little sore but you could avoid your clit, focus on trying to imitate the way Roger could finger fuck you to orgasm. You were laughing as you came, blissed out on just the notion of being allowed an orgasm. And not just one, as many as you wanted. It was tempting to take another just because you could but instead you forced yourself to get out of bed and start your morning routine. Of course you had to make some adjustments. You’d taken to edging in the shower each evening but instead you allowed yourself the luxury of a bath, coming with the tap gushing directly into your clit. And instead of mindlessly edging while you spread out on the couch and read, you let yourself get off to the erotic novel you were halfway through. It was incredible, even without Roger there to help. The tingle you’d get right before it hit, the one that used to make you pull your hand away. And then the rush of the actual release that made your whole body tense up before relaxing completely. You’d grown so accustomed to edging, gotten so used to the constantly building high that never ended. Actually being able to finish was like a drug and you kept going back for another hit. It was five times when Roger called though he made you do a sixth, once again explaining what he wanted, asking you how it felt. You didn’t complain, didn’t even consider it.

It was the same most days though the number of orgasms you got out declined as Roger got closer to coming home. You were guaranteed one with every call he made to check in on how you were going, but more often than not it ended up being two or three. And he’d always ask for how many you’d had that day and then your total number of orgasms. Whenever you gave him the new numbers you could hear the scratch of a pen as he wrote it down. The night before he returned you reached thirty-nine. “Thirty-nine?” Roger let out a whistle that made you chuckle. “You wanna hear one more? Make it an even forty?” “No,” “Oh, really?” “It’s hilarious how disappointed you sound. But I think I’d like to give you number forty myself, in person.” “I suppose I can wait for that,” “Not long to go,” “You gonna miss touring?” “Yeah, a bit. But I’m gonna be even happier being back home with you.” “Getting to use your slut more like,” He let out a soft, breathy laugh, “There’s that, but also just getting to sleep in the same bed as you sounds so good right now. And your tea. I haven’t had a decent cup since I left.”

You held off on the last orgasm, looking forward to one at Roger’s hands and not just his voice. A little hint of denial to round out the separation. A nice way to bookend the experience, even if you hadn’t managed to last the whole time. But your days of free flowing orgasms meant that his return wasn’t like last time, when you’d be so desperate for release you’d tried to jump him on the front steps. You could wait, let him get settled first. He’d probably want to shower, maybe eat something better than the plane food, maybe sleep off some of the travel, before sex even crossed his mind. Or rather, because it was Roger you were talking about, he was probably thinking about sex already but he’d want to make sure it was good for both of you even if that meant waiting a day or two. So you did what you could to make his return more comfortable, making sure the kettle was on when he arrived, calling out from the kitchen when you heard the door open. He greeted you with a tight hug and a soft kiss and followed it with a contented sigh as you handed him his favourite tea cup and led him out to the couch. He pulled you in close, entwined your fingers again as you chatted and relaxed. You figured that’s how the rest of the afternoon and evening would be, that you’d order take out and stay on the couch until you were ready to shuffle off to bed. So, when Roger’s hand, palm still warm where he’d been holding the teacup, landed on your thigh and began to creep higher, you were a little surprised. “Remind me what your total number of orgasms was again,” “Uh, thirty-nine Sir. But we don’-” “So you didn’t sneak in one more after I hung up?” “No, I wanted to wait for you.” “I’m here now,” “You sure you don’t want to rest? I can wait a bit longer,” “Love, I’ve spent the last however long sitting on a plane, think I’d like to do something a little more…physical.” You couldn’t stop from giggling, couldn’t deny your excitement at the turn the afternoon was taking. “Is that a yes?” “Yes, definitely.” “Then why don’t you go to the bedroom and strip. I’ll finish this perfect cuppa and meet you there. We could do your punishment too, if you’re up for it.” “What’s the punishment going to be, spanking or something?” “Or something,” he said with a laugh. “Okay, yeah, let’s get it over with then,” Roger just laughed again as he leaned forward to kiss you and then sent you on your way.

“Good girl,” he cooed as he entered the room and saw you kneeling on the bed, your clothes scattered around the room, “You wanna know what your punishment is?” “Please,” “Well, because you tried to get away with cumming without permission, I’m going to edge you again. I think one for every orgasm you had sounds fair, don’t you?” “What? But…” “But what, love? You didn’t think I was going to give you a little spank and then forget about it, did you? I can’t have my slut thinking it’s okay to lie to me.” “But you said I could have those orgasms,” “I know. They were a reward for trying so hard to hold off for me. I’m not punishing you for accidentally going over the edge,” he stepped towards you as he spoke, reached out to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing over your skin softly, “Sorry, I should have been clearer when I left that I wasn’t going to be upset if you didn’t last. Two months is a very long time and it’s hard to keep edging when you’re on your own, especially if you’ve never gone that long before. All I wanted was for you to try and you tried so hard and did so well. I couldn’t be prouder. But then when you did go over, you tried to keep it from me and that’s not on. I expect you to tell me when something like that happens. Otherwise what’s the point in agreeing to all this submissive stuff?” “Sorry, Sir, I know I should have told you,” “Thank you but you’re not getting out of it so easily. Lie back for me,” With a deep breath you did as he asked, shifting against the mattress to get comfortable. “Remind me what your safe word is,” “Red, Sir,” “Good, don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” You nodded as you watched him walk to the cupboard, your hands already rising over your head in anticipation. He chuckled when he saw you waiting, “so you agree then, I need to tie you down.” “Thirty-nine’s a lot, I won’t be able to stay still,” “Of course you won’t, you’re a needy whore who likes to cum more than’s good for you. Spread your legs for me too, I’m going to tie your ankles.” You did as you were told, earning another chuckle from Roger as he took one wrist and tied it to the corner of the bed frame.

He made you wait there, on display and unable to move, spread eagle on the bed, as he stripped down to his briefs and then stood over you, looking you up and down as if deciding how best to torture you. “Already a little wet,” he said softly, fingers brushing over your pussy. You stayed quiet, worrying at your lip. “I said,” he slapped your thigh and made you jolt, “Already. A little. Wet.” “I’ve been thinking about this since your last call, Sir.” Another slap, this one directly on your pussy, “Hmmm, thirty-nine orgasms in ten days and you’re already asking for more? Such a good slut for me. I’d have loved to see what kind of a mess you were by the time you accidentally came.” You whined as his fingers teased your entrance but he ignored you and kept talking. “I’ll do my best to get you dripping again now but I think I might need to give you a hand getting started, huh,” his fingers left you as he moved to the draws and pulled out a small tube of lubricant. He spread a dollop over two digits before slipping them inside you easily. Instinctively your hips rose to meet him, encouraging his fingers to sink deeper into you. “Maybe I’ll give you a few weeks break and then we might try again, see if you can’t go the whole two months while I’m here. I’ll help you be a good girl, keep you from going over. And then we can see just how drippy you get. I imagine you won’t be able to wear knickers for more than an hour before they’re soaked through. But it’ll make you easy to use. A self-lubricating little toy for me to play with. So desperate and needy.” He grinned as he stretched you out, using his other thumb to collect some of your rapidly pooling arousal and spreading it over your clit, paying close attention to how you jerked in your restraints, watching for any sign of the release you weren’t allowed, “You like the sound of that?” “Y-yes, Sir,” “Thought you would. I definitely do.” He shifted the position of his fingers seamlessly, almost second nature. “Fuck, close, ‘m close,” He pulled both hands away from you, smoothing them over your thighs, “Thank you for telling me.” The familiar disappointment of a subsiding orgasm made you sigh but otherwise you kept quiet, not wanting Roger to hear you complain after just one edge. The first of many. Roger waited thirty seconds before he started in on you again, enough time for the orgasm to completely disappear so he could slowly rebuild the pleasure to the same point before he pulled his hands away again. There was another half minute pause before he repositioned his fingers where you so badly wanted them to be and began building you up once more. “What a pitiful little whine that was. And we’re only just getting started, love.” Roger stilled his fingers as he laughed again. “Fuck,” “Maybe. If you’re lucky. But for now,” he curled his fingers inside you, watching every reaction closely as he pumped them into you, stilling as you neared the edge again. He didn’t remove them though, just held them in you as you calmed so he could begin again as soon as you’d settled. “That’s three done, thirty-six to go,” You groaned but nodded your acceptance. Roger played you as well as he would any of his instruments, keeping you right at the edge as you jerked and jolted in your restraints, desperately trying to get just a little more, one more thrust, one more stroke, anything to finally feed the craving. It was blissful torture. But it was so much better with him physically there. Edging for him on your own was fine but nothing beat the way it felt to have him do it for you. The pure submission, the total lack of control. He owned your orgasms. You willingly gave them to him and now he owned them, controlled them.

Roger enjoyed it as much as you did, the evidence becoming clearer with every pleading whine you gave him, though you were too distracted to notice. It only became obvious to you how turned on he was when he got up to take his underwear off and your eyes fell to his erect cock. He settled himself back between your legs and tapped the head of his dick against your sensitive clit. “What d’you think, slut? Should I fuck you now?” “Please,” “Awww you really want it don’t you?” “Yes, yes Sir, I really want it,” “My good little whore likes Sir’s cock, doesn’t she?” “Yeah,” “Especially in her cunt,” “Yeah,” “Yeah. But we have a problem.” Roger shuffled over you, straddling your hips, “See, it’s been a while.” “Months, Sir,” Roger chuckled, ��Exactly, months. And I just worry that I’m going to enjoy being in your cunt again so much that I forget to edge you. And I don’t want that. Not after you’ve been so good for me.” “It’s okay Sir, you can fuck me. I promise I’ll be good,” “I know you would try to be good, but accidents could happen and I’m not ready to let you cum yet, even accidentally. What kind of a punishment would that be? So, instead, I’m going to use another hole I’ve missed, okay?” You agreed, though really it didn’t feel like you had many other options besides taking it or safe-wording and you definitely weren’t ready for things to end. “Good girl,” Roger cooed, leaning forward to kiss you softly before he repositioned himself. You giggled as he somewhat clumsily turned around, but the laughter died as he moved to kneel over your face instead. “Sir?” Roger wrapped his hand around his cock, “Yes, slut?” “Can I have my hands please?” “I think you can manage without them,” Roger said, “But how about this?” He leaned forward to release the ties around your ankles before settling back, his bollocks resting against your lips. He seemed to be waiting so you opened your mouth, laving your saliva over them with your tongue. “Good girl,” Roger hummed as you sucked one testicle into your mouth, a small part of you hoping that if you did enough, he’d be lenient and reduce your punishment. “If it get’s too much, stamp your foot okay?” You raised your legs so your feet were flat on the bed and stamped one to show you understood. “Good girl,” Roger said, pressing a kiss to your knee before he readjusted his position, letting his cock find your mouth.

At first Roger contented himself with rocking slowly, letting you grow comfortable with the position. You had no control over how deep he pressed into you or how often but he kept his movement measured and careful, making sure he wasn’t overwhelming you, and you kept up as best you could, running your tongue along his length and sucking on his head. It got harder when he leaned forward and attached his lips to your cunt. The distraction of being edged with his tongue made you lose focus as you bucked your hips in a weak attempt to get more pleasure. Which meant you were taken by surprise when he suddenly thrust into your mouth, pushing himself into your throat. You wished you had your hands so you could grab his arse or jerk him off, but you made do as best you could, eyes watering as you moaned and he gave another sharp thrust. As he got closer to release he slid deeper into your throat, unable to control himself as easily while he was concentrating on edging you again and again. Each time he’d tell you how many edges he’d given you but you stopped listening. Between the jolts of pleasure from his tongue licking along your slit and the weight of his body on yours and the strain on your jaw as you kept your mouth open for him and the dizzying gasps of air you sucked in as he remembered himself and pulled out of you before sinking back in just as deep, everything else seemed fuzzy and distant. Your hands grasped at thin air in an attempt to break loose and touch him and your hips rose to meet him until he held them down. You moaned around his cock and whined with each new edge which only seemed to spur him on. At some point, after you weren’t sure how many, Roger decided he’d had enough of edging you like that and sat up a bit higher on his knees. He gave you a brief warning and let you take a few extra breaths before he fucked your mouth for real, unrelentingly using you for his own pleasure. You knew he was getting closer by the way he was grunting and the small twitches in his cock and you tried to prepare yourself for a mouthful of spunk, tried to ready yourself for how it would feel when he came on your tongue. But then he stopped and pulled out of you entirely. You were surprised by his sudden disappearance as he swung his leg back over you and got off the bed. Surely he wasn’t going to edge himself along with you? Surely he was going to use his release as another way to torment you, telling you how good it felt and mocking you for wanting the same. It was hard not to feel a little disappointed too. Especially when you could see how hard he was, his flushed tip proof of how close he’d been. “Sir?” you croaked out, voice scratchy and throat sore. Roger ignored you, as he walked back to the end of the bed, wiping his mouth and chin. “Sir, didn’t you want to finish?” “Awww, did the whore want my cum that bad? Don’t worry slut, you’ll get it, just not to taste. I’m going to put this load where it belongs. In my cunt.” You gasped as Roger pressed the tip of his cock into your heat, bracing yourself for the rough fuck he was sure to give you. But there was no thrusting, no pushing deeper. He held his tip inside you as his hand slid up and down his shaft, pulling himself over the edge with a grunt.

You were left squirming and aching to be filled, to feel him inside you properly, as he left the bed again and moved towards the cupboard. A combination of your juices and his dripping onto the sheets. You knew what was coming but that made it all the worse. “Do you remember how many I said you had left?” he asked as he plugged the wand vibrator in and gave it a test pulse. “No Sir,” “No? You really should, I said it only a few minutes ago,” “I don’t know Sir,” “Well it’s a good thing I know then. Otherwise we might have had to start all over again and kept better count.” You trembled at the idea, part terrified of it happening, part wanting it to. “You only have to last 5 more. Not very many, is it?” “No Sir. I can do five,” “I know you can. Because you’re such a good girl for me. My good girl. You ready?” “Yes,” you swallowed thickly and took a steadying breath waiting for the buzz of the vibrator to start again. Roger made you wait a little, building the anticipation and the tension as he refrained from doing what you expected. He let the soft head of the toy rest against your clit, laughing when you jolted at the contact. And only once you’d stilled did he turn it on, leaving it on the lowest setting. Instinctively you tried to move your still unbound legs, but Roger gave you a slap to your thigh and warned you to behave or else he’d tie you down again and give you extra edges. You whimpered a small, “Yes Sir,” as you did your best to keep still though it got harder with each edge. Roger was careful to pull the machine away as soon as he saw signs of your impending orgasm, never letting you get too close lest his reflexes be too slow. He didn’t want any accidents to happen now, not after he’d been edging you for so long. He counted down each one, giving you ample breaks between to calm yourself again. When you finally heard him turn off the vibrator and say you were done you cried grateful tears. He untied your wrists and pulled you into his arms, soothing you with soft words of praise and gentle touches.

“How do you feel?” He asked softly once you’d sufficiently calmed, leaning back and placing his hand on your cheek as he studied your face. “Bit sore. Really want to cum. But good.” “Yeah? You’re okay?” “Yeah I’m okay. Might need a few minutes before I can do more though. The fortieth orgasm I mean.” “That’s alright. In fact, it’s perfect because I’ve got a surprise for you.” “A surprise?” “Wait here, I’ll grab it from my suitcase,” You nodded, intrigued, and leaned against the bedhead to wait, letting your eyes close for a moment as he left the room. Roger returned and handed you a glass of water and box tied off with ribbon. You were definitely curious now, the box larger than you’d been expecting. You pulled at the bow with one hand as you drank with the other, letting Roger lift the lid from the box. You didn’t understand what you were seeing until Roger explained. “It’s a chastity belt,” You almost did a spit take. “I saw it while we were exploring the shops of one of the towns we were in and I thought it might be fun to try it out, if you’re interested.” You placed the cup down and reached into the box to pick up the metal device, “Looks a bit medieval, doesn’t it,” Roger chuckled and agreed, “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But while I was edging you I thought maybe it would be fun to make you wait a few extra days,” “You want me to wear it now?” “Only if you want to. If I’m being honest, I hadn’t planned to show you today. I was going to save it for after the rest of the tour, but you know how impatient I can be,” he laughed, his hand falling to your rub softly over your knee, “If you’d prefer to cum now I will very happily make that happen. More than once. But if you did want to test it out I’d also be into that.” “How would it work?” “Well, um, you’d wear it all day, when you’re at home and when you go out. The guy who sold it said it’s very discreet and will go under most clothes without showing. You have to take it off once a day to clean it so I was thinking that you could wear it all day and take it off at night when you have your shower. That way it can be cleaned and dry out over night and you wouldn’t have to worry about it not being comfortable to sleep in.” “And um, how would, uhhhh, bathroom stuff work with it?” “Well, there’s a slit at the front that can be opened so you can pee but isn’t it kind of hot if you have to ask me to unlock it every time you have to go to the bathroom?” “I hate to admit it but yeah it is,” you laughed. “I could also unlock it for other reasons. Maybe if I really really wanted to fuck you.” You shifted excitedly. It had been too long since you’d had Roger properly, and especially after his little teasing stunt just before, but you tried to sound more casual as you said, “That’d be fun,” “Think I’m probably more likely to use your mouth though. So much less hassle.” “It’s kinda unfair that you promised me number forty and now you’re not going to pay up,” “I’ll give you forty and forty-one and forty-two and as many more as you can handle. Right now if you want. Or after a few days of having your cunt locked away.” You stomach clenched at the thought, “How long were you thinking?” “I don’t know. The part of me that likes symmetry says ten days since that’s how many days of tour were left when you stopped edging. But really anything you want is okay with me. If you tried it for a day and decided it wasn’t for you that would be completely fine. And, like I said, if you don’t want to do it right away we don’t have to.” “I think I want to. Maybe just a day to start, see how it goes. If I want another day I’ll let you know.” “Really?” You laughed at how excited Roger seemed, “Yes, really.” “I fucking love you,” “I am very loveable,” Roger laughed and pulled you into a kiss.

He joined you in the shower, helping you wash off the sweat and other fluids left from the torture you’d just been through. You took turns washing each other’s hair as you relaxed together, letting the hot water sooth any aches you felt. But there was a layer of excitement too and a few nerves at the prospect of wearing the chastity belt. Once you were thoroughly cleaned and dried, Roger helped lock the belt into place before you both got dressed. It was an odd sensation but thrilling too. It made you hyper aware of your own desperation. Every time you moved, sat down, you were reminded of how impossible it would be to touch yourself or get any sort of release. You only wore it for a few hours that first day, asking Roger to unlock it when you got up to change into your pyjamas. Together you worked out how best to clean it and hung it up ready for the next day. Roger kissed you good morning when you woke and asked if you wanted to try a full day of it. You agreed and, after visiting the bathroom, let him once again fasten the belt into place. It was even more thrilling the second time. In part because you had a better idea of how it operated, how it felt to wear it, but also largely due to wearing it out of the house. Roger decided to take you out for an early lunch, grinning cheekily as he made the suggestion. He knew full well you’d spend every minute of the excursion with your mind on the belt, wondering if anyone could tell you were wearing it. He was right. But it only made you wetter. Once you were home Roger checked in with you, asking how it was going and if you were still interested in wearing it. “It’s good. Still feels a bit weird but not what I'd call uncomfortable. It’s just very obvious to me that it’s there. But fuck I’m horny,” Roger laughed, “that makes two of us. I swear I’ve been half hard since I put it on you. Was even worse when you asked me to unlock it so you could pee.” “Jeeze Rog. I’ve been edged and denied, what’s your excuse?” “Shut up, there’s just something super hot about me holding the key to your cunt,” You chuckled, leaned towards him and gave him the most sultry look you could muster, “You know you could use that key whenever you want.” “Maybe later, love. Right now I really should unpack my bags, do some laundry.” “But that can be done any time,” “So can you,” Roger laughed, leaving you with a kiss to the temple. That night, after you’d taken the belt off and cleaned it, Roger edged you again, kissing you as his fingers explored your slit and your hand pumped over his cock.

On the third day Roger disappeared into the back yard with a guitar. A question about the grocery shopping list sent you seeking him, and you found him sitting on a chair under the shade of a large tree, plucking at the strings. It was almost a shame to interrupt what seemed like such a serene moment. He spotted you though and waved you over, pulling you onto his lap. His fingers moved to the front of you shorts, seemingly automatically, but he stopped and chuckled when he met the firm resistance of the belt. “Oops,” “Forgot did you? Lucky,” “You're not enjoying it anymore?” “No, no, I am, but I’m also getting really frustrated,” “Yeah?” “There is literally no way to relieve any pressure when I’m wearing it and you keep edging me before bed and honestly I want you to fuck me so bad like I just feel kind of empty all the time cause it’s been so fucking long since I had more than your fingers in there and I'm used to just being able to pull out a toy and make myself feel better even if I’m edging. It’s fucking torture not being able to touch anything and not being even a little bit in control of my own pleasure.” “Do you want to stop?” “Hell no. I just want you to fuck me,” “Oh really?” he chuckled, “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised my slut likes being completely denied,” You recognised his tone, the one that meant he was pent up and wanted to take it out on you. Hope that he’d do it, that he’d unlock you and give you a good hard pounding, made you sit up a little straighter. Your head was buzzing with ideas of Roger filling you with cum and locking you away again, but they were interrupted rather rudely by Roger growling at you to kneel. You nodded, a little disappointed but more just happy to get some sort of attention, and settled on your knees, intently watching as he stood and unbuckled his belt, the jangling noise of the metal sending another wave of desire through you. He’d barely managed to push his pants down just low enough to get his cock out when you reached out to stroke him, mind so thoroughly focused on him that you barely noticed the itchy tickle of the grass under you. But before you could he slapped your hand away. “You’re here to watch. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out. C’mon needy whore, I don��t have all day.” You nodded as you did what he said. Roger waited, watching you for any signs of impatience but soon rewarded you with his fingers, two of them sliding towards the back of your throat until you gagged. He pulled back and then did the same thing again, slowly beginning to fuck your mouth with just his digits. You could feel saliva pooling on your tongue, his fingers gliding through it until they were slick and shiny. That’s when he moved his hand to his dick, slowly spreading your drool over his shaft. You whimpered as he brushed his thumb over his tip, letting out a small hiss at the contact. You leaned forward slightly, intending to lick his length and replace his hand but he stopped you, his free hand holding you in place, and you realised what was happening. He knew you wanted to be fucked and he was going to deny you that as well as your orgasms. He wasn’t even going to fuck your mouth. All you could do was sit there, whining and watching as he jerked himself off. Every so often he dipped his fingers back into your mouth, either to gather more of your spit or just to hear you gag, you weren’t sure which. A small part of you hoped he’d just push you down onto his cock but as his hand sped up, expertly pleasuring himself, that hope withered away. He was close. You could see it in the way his smooth strokes stuttered, hear it in his groans. If you’d looked up you probably would have found flushed cheeks, and lust blown eyes, but you couldn’t drag your eyes from his cock, right in front of you, pulsing as he neared his release. And then he came with a guttural moan. You jolted as the first drops hit your cheek, but he was already holding you in place, making sure you stayed still until he was done.

Roger looked down at you, the fist still milking his cock slowing down once more, though he didn’t release himself. You swallowed thickly, shifting on your knees as the temptation to wipe your face and get up rose. “Stay there, slut,” Roger said softly, reading your mind, “you look so good on your knees. Just a toy I use to masturbate with.” You nodded, agreeing, your eyes already drifting back down to his dick. “You want it don’t you? Wish I’d just use you properly,” You nodded again. “If you’re very good I might...” he lay his cock on your tongue, “let you have it,” It took all your strength not to close your lips around his girth as he rubbed his dick over your protruding tongue but your resilience seemed to impress him. Slowly he pushed himself deeper, allowed you to suck on his head for a moment. “Maybe I should use this time you’re all locked up to train you. Teach you to be a filthy oral whore.” The suggestion made your cunt throb but there was nothing you could do to alleviate the desperate desire to be touched. Not even squeezing your thighs together helped. “I’ll teach you to be so desperate to suck cock that you won’t ever want to take the belt off. And when I decide to use your cunt you’ll wish it was your throat,” Roger pulled himself from your lips and you were once again forced to watch as he wanked in front of you. Right up until he stopped and walked behind you. “Sir?” His presence came close again, right up behind you, “Shhhh, slut, I’m still here,” Roger gripped your chin from above and tilted your head back slightly. “Fuck you look so hot like this, drives me fucking wild to see my little toy all soaked in cum. Close your eyes,” You did, heart racing with the uncertainty of what he might be planning. There was a tap on your forehead as the tip of Roger’s dick landed there. “I’ll reward you with some more edges tonight. Maybe I’ll even give you a ruin, if you’re very lucky. I want you so desperate that all you think about is my cock. Twenty-four seven. So desperate you’ll beg just to be allowed to suck me off.” You couldn’t see what Roger was doing but you felt it when he came again, jizz running from your forehead down the side of your nose, onto your cheek and over your top lip, dripping onto your waiting tongue. Roger stepped back and you heard the zzzziiippp of his fly being pulled up followed by the jangle of his belt, but you didn’t move. He stroked his fingers down the side of your neck, offing you a soft, “good girl,” as he moved back round to take in your appearance. “Jesus this is….you look so fucking hot,” you could feel the breath of his laugh as he leaned forward, his thumbs brushing over your closed eyes, making sure they hadn’t been caught in his crossfire, “alright, you can open your eyes now, and close your mouth if you want,” You carefully opened on eye and then the other, able to taste Roger as you swallowed what you’d caught on your tongue. “Did that make you feel any better?” “I don’t know if I’d say better. Wetter? Definitely.” “You’re a bloody poet, love,” “I try. You wanna help me up or did you have more in you?” Roger held out his hand with a chuckle, pulling you to your feet. When you were closer to eye level he paused, eyes roaming over your face, and then leaned in to peck you on the lips. It was unexpected but appreciated, though not quite as much as the damp face cloth he used to clean you.

The next morning Roger asked if you’d like to put the belt back on and you said yes. And the next day. And the next day. And the next day. Each time he reminded you that you were allowed to say no and then, when you assured him you knew that, helped lock it into place. At some point (and sometimes at multiple points) during the day he’d use your mouth, only needing to click his fingers for you to drop to your knees for him. He made sure to compare you to vacuum cleaners and other objects. Metaphors that would normally have made you roll your eyes or tell him he was disgusting, but which now turned you into a whiney wet mess. Admittedly they weren’t all good. The time he said you had a mouth like a black hole you’d nearly choked as you started laughing with your lips already stretched around him. He’d apologised and said he’d cut back on the sci-fi comparisons so you could finish the job properly. At night you’d have a shower and change into pyjamas, often forgoing PJ pants since Roger liked to edge you while you weren’t wearing the belt. He’d slip his fingers into your panties while you watched TV or as you were settling down to sleep. But not once did he try to actually fuck you. It was infuriating and frustrating and such a turn on. Until it stopped being hot.

You’d woken up that morning as excited and enthusiastic about the belt as you had been the previous few mornings but by the afternoon it had started feeling uncomfortable and oppressive. You came to the conclusion that denial and edging was fun but you needed a more definite time period to work within. When Roger had left and said you’d be able to orgasm again when he came back in two months’ time, that had been exciting and hot because there was a time limit. A light at the end of the tunnel that you could see and count down to. Something to aim for. Denial wasn’t just about not cumming, it was about challenging your own expectations of yourself and maybe trying to beat your previous record. What you were doing now didn’t have that specificity, that goal to work towards, and it was beginning to feel like you were being punished for nothing. The constant empty ache you felt didn’t help. Of course denial usually came with aches and desperate needy feelings but something about this time was different. Usually Roger would relish fucking you as much as possible, all the time telling you not to cum or else he’d have to spank you. It was always hard holding back as he took his pleasure but it was rewarding too and it helped relieve the tension that constant edging could cause, even without finishing. Sometimes, if you’d been good and he wanted to be nice, he’d give you a ruin as well. And even if he ended up being mean and leaving your arse pink and smarting from his blows, you got a certain kind of enjoyment from it. But with the chastity belt and the refusal to fuck you, you weren’t getting any relief at all. After thinking through it all, you decided you needed a break from the belt. It would be fun to try again another day but maybe with more discussion and certainties. You looked over to the other couch where Roger was stretched out. “Hey, Rog?” “Yes, love?” “I think I want to stop.” Roger looked away from the TV, his attention shifting to you, “You mean with the belt?” “Yeah. I think I’m close to using my safeword. It’s just feeling kind of not good at the moment. Can you please unlock me?” “Okay. Of course we can stop. C’mon, I left the key in our room,” Roger held out his hand for yours, brushing his lips over your knuckles as he pulled you up.

You sighed with relief as you stepped out of the belt, already feeling better, if not a little embarrassed by just how obviously wet you were. Roger stood, about to say something, but you pulled him into a kiss instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “Well,” he said with a laugh, “I was going to ask what else I could do to make you feel better but I think you’ve made it quite obvious,” “Need you Rog. Literally need. I’ve never meant it as much as I do now,” “Jesus, okay,” he was already fumbling with his fly one handed, “We really did a number on you, huh,” You nodded, dropping your hands to help him get his pants off. As soon as the zip was down he kissed you again, leading you towards the bed. “How do you want me?” “Don’t care, just fuck me,” “For as long as you want,” Roger pushed on your shoulder and you fell back onto the bed, watching as he kicked his pants and underwear off. You whined when he took too long but he soothed you with a kiss and then more down your neck, until he met the neckline of your t-shirt. He didn’t bother removing it though, just squeezed your breasts through it. You were glad, sure you’d implode if you didn’t have him immediately. Instead he kissed your lips again, fiercely, as you reached for his cock, willing him to hurry up and get hard enough. As soon as he was ready he pushed your hand away and pressed into your cunt with an ease that was somewhere between ridiculous and pathetic. “Fuck you’re soaked,” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. Even if he had been speaking to you, you’re not sure you would have heard, much too preoccupied by how full you suddenly felt. It was such a contrast from the previous week of aching for it and all you could think to say was thank you, over and over as Roger slowly fucked into you. “You gotta stop squirming so much, love, or I’m gonna slip out,” You clenched around him at the suggestion, smiling when he tightened his grip on your thigh. Roger brought his fingers to your clit, circling it as you whined, your orgasm already so unbelievably close. It didn’t take much more than a couple of light circles around your clit to tip you over the edge. You weren’t sure you’d ever cum quite so hard from quite so little stimulation but you could barely speak, your breath catching in your throat along with your voice. Roger kept his fingers in place as he calmly thrust into you, egging you on, pushing you through the most well-earned orgasm you’d ever had. But he was by no means done with you. He gave you a few moments to calm and catch your breath, and then he shifted your legs over his shoulders, one at a time as you tried to brace yourself. He sunk deeper with the change of position, picking up his pace to fuck you harder, keeping a firm grip on you so that, even though your back arched and you writhed under him, head falling to one side and then whipping around to the other, you’d remain in place on his cock. With every thrust, every squeeze of his fingertips, you felt yourself drawing close to the edge again and you begged Roger, through gasped breaths, not to stop. He didn’t. He wouldn’t have even considered it until you told him to. “I can feel how close you are, love. Come on, cum for me. Show me just how much you like being fucked and cum,” “yes, yes, fuck yes,” “That’s right, good- good girl, f-fuck you’re tight. Fucking feel your cunt pul-sing. You’ve missed that feeling haven’t you?” You just nodded, head still foggy. “Think you’ve got another one in you? Or do you want me to stop?” “No, don’t stop,” Roger chuckled and pulled out of you as you whined but it was only so he could flip you onto your stomach and pull your hips up. Before you could even begin to complain about the sudden desertion, he was back inside you, pulling you back onto his cock as he rammed into you. “I want to hear you this time. You know I like how loud my slut gets,” There was no way you could deny a request like that, not when he was making you feel so good, filling you so perfectly, giving you exactly what you’d so desperately needed. You babbled for him, a mess of curses and half conceived thoughts about how good it felt mixed with whines and moans. And that only made him fuck you harder, until you came again, screaming his name. He fucked you through it, though he grunted with each thrust, holding off his own orgasm until he was sure you were satisfied. You swore you nearly came again as he spilled himself inside you before both of you collapsed bonelessly to the bed.

You complained when Roger pulled out of you again, but he did make a good point about not wanting to crush you. And he made up for it by pulling you close and kissing you as much as he could, in between checking how you felt and if you were okay now. “Yeah, better,” you sighed, running you hand over his arm, “I really really needed that,” “I could tell. Sorry I made you wait so long,” “No, it was fun too, the waiting. But not forever, y’know.” “Yeah I do. If you ever want to try the whole chastity belt thing again we’ll be better, figure out how to make it fun again,” “Sounds good. But maybe not for a while,” “No, not for a while. I like fucking you too much to give it up again so soon,” You laughed at that, leaned in to kiss him again. “You’re probably too tired but, uh, I could go again if you wanted,” “Now?” “Maybe a minute?” “A minute sounds good and I’m not too tired. But if I was, maybe we could sleep like that, with you in me?” “Really?” “I don’t think you’ve grasped quite how badly I’ve wanted you since you first showed me the belt, how badly I still want you,” “I think that can be arranged then,” he laughed again, kissing you once more as he rolled back over.

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #absolutely wild that any of you have been with me since IMIUTY tbh #i was so unsure about posting that sldjslkds #and now i just casually chuck out 9k words of filth #also #a lot of chastity stuff is about wearing them constantly #which is hot but not realistic #because if you dont clean them and give your body time to breathe #it can lead to UTIs and stuff #so if your gonna play with a belt and you have a p****#make sure to take it off intermittently #anyway #can someone please lock me in a belt and idk maybe mock me when i start to beg

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hoebii · 4 years ago

Text

Who

Pairing : Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre : Angst, light Fluff

Warnings : Cheating, grieving, past break up

Got inspired by the song ‘Who’ if you couldn’t tell sdaxhfvgf. Thank you @taegularities and @heejinnien for beta reading this and giving me pointers to make this better <3 This is the first fic that has been proof read and edited so we don’t die like men this time. As usual, send me any promts/ideas/requests you might have and I’ll try my best to do it justice. Feedback is always appreciated! :D

~~~~~~~~~~~

Our minds have new eyes and visions of you

Girl, I think I need a minute

To figure out what is, what isn't

The phone vibrated yet again, screen lighting up to display the caller ID. Yoongi decided to ignore it, head resting on his propped up hands.

There was a storm brewing inside his mind, and he didn’t know what to do anymore.

He knew the people around him were worried, saw the concern in their eyes every time he passed by and he hated it. He hated that he let it get this far, hated how uncertain he felt.

His mind couldn’t help but go back to the past, the memories coming back to haunt him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

These choices and voices,

they're all in my head

Sometimes you make me feel crazy

Sometimes, I swear I think you hate me like uh

I need a walk, I need a walk, I need to get out of here “I’ll always love you, no matter what the world throws at us.” She spoke sternly, her hands cupping his face. At that moment he felt like he was on the top of the world, his heart skipping a beat when his eyes met hers.

“You promise?”

“I promise, my love.” A scoff escaped Yoongi’s lips at the memory. “Bullshit,” he growled, gripping his hair, trying not to scream. “Why are you doing this?” He asked, tears streaming down his face as he stood by the door helplessly.

“I can’t keep doing this, Yoongi. I’m done,” she replied, continuing to pack her bags.

“We can fix this, please.” “No we can’t! Open your eyes Yoongi, there’s no fixing this anymore.”

He felt his heart shatter with each passing second as he stood there watching her. He moved towards her, grabbing her and pulling her in an embrace. He felt her stiffen at the contact but he refused to let go, heart racing.

“Please…” he whimpered.

She sighed, melting into his embrace after a while, wrapping her hands around him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.”

“It’s fine… just, don’t do that again.”

“I promise.”

For some reason, he couldn’t feel at ease even after that.

Yoongi slammed his hand down on the table, his breathing erratic. He grabbed his jacket and phone before walking out of his studio, where he saw the other boys standing about. He knew they were here for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment.

“Where are you going, hyung?” asked the maknae cautiously.

“For a walk, I need to clear my head.” Yoongi replied, brushing past his concerned members and out of the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~

'Cause I need to know

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you?

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

He rushed down the sidewalk, no destination in mind. His head was down, hood of his jacket up and his hands shoved inside his pockets.

He slowed down after some time, legs tired from walking for so long. Looking around to inspect his surroundings, Yoongi realised he had walked to the park near her house. The same park where they had their first date, the park where they came to look for peace when it all became too much. It held such precious memories, before when he looked back on those, his heart would swell with affection, body warm from happiness. But now, it did nothing except hurt him more. His heart ached as he relived the sweet memories that would always turn bitter.

“Look at those kids! They’re so cute!” She gushed, leaning against Yoongi, hands intertwined in her lap.

Yoongi chuckled as he watched the children run past them, laughter filling the air as they played around.

“I wonder how our children are gonna look? Well, then again, with parents like us they’re bound to be amazing!”

Yoongi hummed, playing with her fingers, heart picking up its pace at the thought of their possible future.

Yoongi sat on the bench overlooking the park. His eyes scanned the area, thinking about all the memories he had created here. His mind drifted off to the last time he’d been here, his heart constricting in pain.

He was waiting at the gate of the park, looking for her with flowers in her hand. His gummy smile impossible to hide, heart thrumming happily; it was their anniversary after all! He swayed back and forth, excitement barely kept under control when he thought about all the plans he’d made for them to enjoy the day.

15 minutes passed with still no sign of her. Yoongi checked his clock one more time before he called her again. Her phone rang a few times before it sent him to her voicemail yet again.

Feeling disappointment slowly take over his heart, he deflated a little.

Had she forgotten? She couldn’t have, right? Perhaps she’s stuck at work, thought Yoongi to himself. He shook his head before deciding to enter the park. Taking a walk might help, and who knows? Maybe she’ll arrive in that time too! He tried convincing himself, not wanting to lose hope just yet.

He walked by the little ice cream stand they had in the park when he thought he saw someone familiar stand near it. He squinted at the figure, their back was turned towards him. He shrugged and was about to walk away, to continue his walk through the park when the person turned around.

Yoongi’s eyes widened in shock when he saw his lover standing there, laughing with another man. He felt his heart turn to dust when he saw her lean up to kiss him.

“S-sweetheart?” Yoongi stuttered out loud, at which her head whipped around to face him, her expression akin to a deer caught in headlights, mouth falling open.

“Y-yoongi, I can explain.”

Yoongi shook his head, eyes filled with unshed tears. He dropped the flowers and ran away, paying no mind to her calls.

Yoongi leaned back on the bench, lips lifted into a bitter smile. One of his hands ran through his hair, ruffling it as he said out loud, “Should’ve realised before. Why did I ever believe you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

Feeling hypnotized by the words that you said

Don't lie to me, just get in my head

When the morning comes, you're still in my bed

But it's so, so cold

It had been days since the incident at the park and Yoongi was a mess. He had kicked her out of his house the next day, but he couldn’t keep her out of his mind.

His friends told him to move on, that she wasn’t good for him, but he couldn’t. He needed answers.

He had finally gathered up enough courage to face her again, finally answering her calls, and calling her over. He told himself he wouldn’t let himself be swayed by her, that he was only doing this to get answers, nothing more.

But there he was now, laying awake beside her, staring off into space, mind once again in chaos. This wasn’t how he wanted the night to unravel, but her sweet words lured him in, hypnotized him. He was weak when it came to her, it didn’t surprise either of them that he had given in so easily.

Her sweet lies got into his head, making his mind fuzzy, heart beating fast as if this was the first time they had been together. But now that it was over, his mind was overthinking everything. It felt cold, his heart heavy with emotions he didn’t want to deal with.

He wanted to let go and savour this night, wanted to forget how his heart ached at the mere sight of her. But he felt so, so cold, so filthy and used. No matter how much he tried to suppress those feelings, he couldn’t, so he laid there, regretting everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with

Who are you?

'Cause you're not the girl I fell in love with, baby

Who are you? (Who are you?)

'Cause something has changed, you're not the same, I hate it

Oh, I'm sick of waiting for love, love

Oh, I know that you're not the one, one

Yoongi sat there, his mind running a thousand miles per second. He had his eyes closed and head leaned back, trying to keep the tears at bay.

His thoughts came to a halt when he felt someone situate themselves beside him. He cracked one eye open to look at who it was.

His heart clenched again, this time from guilt, when he saw it was his dearest maknae that had come to him.

“Did you follow me here, Jungkook-ah?”

“I was worried… I didn’t want you to do something rash,” came a timid reply from the man beside him.

Yoongi chuckled, sitting up straight. “I’m not going to do anything rash, Jungkook. Don’t worry.”

“I’m still worried though, I miss you. You haven’t spent any time with us, with me, for such a long time now. You know we’re all here for you. It might hurt but keeping it all in won’t make it better, so let us help you, hyung. Let us be there for you,” Yoongi heard Jungkook say, concern pouring from each of his words.

Yoongi hummed, processing Jungkook’s words for a while.

“You’re right.”

“I… am?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi started, looking at Jungkook, “I shouldn’t have pushed you all away. I’m sorry for being so distant.”

“..Will you come back to the dorms then? It feels so empty without you.”

Yoongi stared at Jungkook, heart feeling a tad lighter than before. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, his doe eyes sparkling. “Do you feel any better? Do you want to go get food with me? I’ll pay!”

“Not really, it still hurts, but your little speech there made me realise I don’t have to do this alone. I have you guys and I’m sure that with you all by my side I’ll feel like the old me soon enough,” Yoongi said, ruffling Junkook’s hair - Jungkook whining at him for ruining his hair -, giving him a small smile. Jungkook beamed back, happy with the answer he’d received.

“Let’s go get lamb skewers, my treat, for ignoring you for this long,” Yoongi said, standing up from the bench. Jungkook exclaimed happily and started walking towards the park exit, smiling brightly.

Yoongi was about to follow when he felt his phone buzz again. Taking it out to check, he realised it was another text from her, but this time rather than ignoring it, he opened the text thread.

He quickly typed one last message to her before blocking the contact and following Jungkook out of the park. His first step towards healing and he couldn’t help but feel proud.

‘You’ve changed, you’re not the one for me anymore. Stop trying to contact me, Y/N. We’re over for good.’

#bts x reader #angst #bts angst #bts #bts yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi #suga #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #myg #myg angst #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfic

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sweet-cynical-writer · 4 years ago

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Author's Notes: On top of not writing as frequently, I wrote two fics. This one will be the sequel to the previous fic, “I couldn't care less.” I haven't written this much before but it likely won't happen again anytime soon.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.7k

Additional Notes: Another thank you to @soukokuwu for proofreading! I'm not used to anything more than 500 words so the help is appreciated!

Fresh air and a clear sky.

You can already feel that today was going to be better than yesterday. What’s more, you were on your way to your favourite little flower shop in the corner of the city near the bay. You were planning to surprise your sweet new boyfriend with this spontaneous gift of a bouquet.

With a little hop in your steps, you made your way down the all-too-familiar stone pavement. Once in, your eyes sparkled at the sight of red camellias. It was perfect to express your desired message: “forever mine”.

You were about to reach out for it when someone else’s hand bumped yours. You drew yours back and apologised out of instinct, thinking you must’ve upset them.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you—"

Your heart skipped a beat the moment your gaze flicked up to meet the man in question. The surprise you felt made you take a few steps back. But then a comforting voice played in your head.

“Hey, don’t worry okay? If you ever feel panicked just imagine me beside you, holding your hand, just like this—” you felt a warmth around your palms— “and then take a minute to collect your thoughts before saying anything.”

He was your saviour in more ways than one, really. His words only reminded you of how patient he was. Kind, caring. A vast difference to how your old relationship was. You were better now. Way better than before. But now you found yourself looking your past in the eye, in its — Dazai’s — chocolate brown eyes.

The corners of your mouth upturned into a sweet smile, and now it was his turn to flinch.

"It's alright. I was only looking. I don't really have flowers to buy anyone."

What was this ache in his chest? And why did it only appear the moment he saw you? You were just another woman on his list, just another number he conquered. So why was he feeling bitter now that you seemed… happy without him?

The silence that surrounded you two was unnerving. It had been quite some time since you broke up, since he broke your heart. But thinking of the days that came after that — it was good. Life had been good to you. You had spent a huge fraction of your time bawling over him, until you realised it just wasn’t fair. How could it be when you could spend all that time to better yourself rather than being miserable over that bastard?

"I heard from Atsushi that you're doing well. I'm guessing you found some happiness after all?" The way he said it — so pointedly, sharp, leaving no room for negotiation. Much like pointing a dagger to your throat. It was a rhetorical question. Dazai already knew. He always knew.

But no, this time, you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. You weren’t going to let him bask in the glory of steering everything in his direction. No, this time, you knew who you were. After all, your boyfriend’s words kept ringing in your head. No more grudges, no more spite.

"I took time to myself and found my footing again. Atsushi told me you haven't been doing too well.. is everything okay, Osamu?"

For a moment you thought you saw a hint of malice in those dark brown eyes.

"Everything fell apart after losing you. I tried to fill the hole inside me that you once filled so perfectly. And so sweetly too. I never realized how much you meant to me until you stopped calling out to me one day."

There he goes again, using such honeyed words to cast another spell on your fragile heart. Or rather, your once fragile heart. But not anymore. Part of you would always care for and love Dazai. But your intimate love for him ran dry like a dozen roses left out in the hot sun to wither.

And he could tell. He always could. He knew how your love for him, what he thought he had control over forever, was gone. He knew, just from your gaze, how you were looking at him like an old friend, nothing more. And the next few words that fell out of your rosy lips hurt him like thorns in his heart.

"I'm so sorry you're not well, Dazai. Truly I am. But I found happiness and I really hope you’ll find yours. Besides, you're free now. I really hope you’ll find it."

His happiness after you had been short-lived. After only a few parties did he notice how much he missed you. The way you would pick him up after he had a drunken night out, and cooked him hot meals to wake up to. Those light feathered kisses you trailed along his neck to gingerly rouse him from his slumber.

"Well, maybe you could embrace freedom with me sometime?"

It felt satisfying to have Dazai being so smitten towards you. Where Dazai used to always rule your heart, it was now only filled with your boyfriend. An image of crimson locks flashed in your mind and with a deep smile you shook your head, picking up the bouquet of camellias to leave.

But a sudden embrace from behind stopped you in your tracks.

"Let me at least see you again."

You knew what the old you would think. She would be anxious, questioning everything, each possibility. Things like: should you keep in contact with your ex even though it’d create problems with your current boyfriend? She’d think there was a chance that Dazai had changed for the better. But she’d also have to consider if he was just manipulating her. And that if he was, she’d lose Chuuya. She’d think that she could end up all alone again. She’d shiver at the thought of that.

But the current you? The one Chuuya loved with every fibre of his being? He loved you strong, he made you whole again when you never thought it could be possible. And you loved him all the same.

When he caught on that you weren’t moving, Dazai released his grasp on you. Did he scare you? Was it too much?

"Hey.. are you okay—"

You pulled away and turned to face him. “Be brave, stand tall, but most importantly, don't lose control.” Chuuya's words rang in your head and you regained composure.

"You know.. it's funny how you miss me more than you could ever love me, Dazai. I may have forgiven you in order to move on.. but I did it for me, not you. I'm happier with Chuuya now. You had that chance already."

The tears were building up in your eyes and you had to turn away to not let him see. You didn’t want him to misunderstand. This was just the closure you never got, the hurt you never got to feel when he so abruptly left you. He would see this as an opening, not a close. He would try to snake his way back into your life, and you didn’t want that.

With that, you forced your legs to move forward, to move away from him. To move on from your past. It was hard — to say goodbye to someone who had once meant so much to you. That would explain the constriction in your chest, making it hard to breathe. But you knew that better things would be coming. And that made it easier.

***

A few minutes away from the flower shop — there he was, waiting for you by a bench. Right on time, never late. It was a small gesture to many, but to you it meant the world. He was a busy man, a Port Mafia executive, and yet the one person he would turn the world over for — it would only be you.

You ran over to him, your hands wrapped around his neck and his own snaked around your waist. You caught a whiff of the sweet cologne you had gifted him as a present after the first month together. This familiarity, this comfort, this warmth. It could never get old. You’d never felt this way. And it wouldn’t be the same with anyone else.

Both of you didn’t have to say a thing, and yet you both knew what the other was feeling. It was something special you shared with Chuuya, and only Chuuya. This bond was what you cherished the most. With him, you didn’t have to keep second-guessing anything, not his actions, not his words. He never tried to push you into anything, unlike a certain someone. Even now, when you were sobbing slightly. Chuuya never pushed you to explain.

The two of you walked home hand in hand, with you offering him the bouquet only then. You had smiled, and your dried tears had made tracks on your skin. He accepted the bouquet, giving you a quick peck on the forehead.

"My sweet love.. these are perfect. Let's get you in a better mood hmm?"

Once you were home, you let him take you by the hand to the bedroom. Chuuya knew you preferred to be pampered before talking about what was on your mind. You just needed to relax.

He began peppering your face with kisses. It made you giggle — how soft and gentle the way his lips pressed against your skin. And the way his fingers twirled your hair playfully felt comforting. Especially the way he would lean in and whisper every kind of doting compliment he could think of.

"You're so gorgeous, my love. I'm the luckiest man alive to have an absolute sweetheart as my lover."

There was a loud buzz coming from the nightstand on your side of the bed. Usually, you would check it yourself but Chuuya insisted on looking at it for you since he was closer. He peered over and the caller ID read Osamu Dazai.

"Who is it, Chuuya?"

He silenced your phone before turning his attention back to you. Chuuya ran his hand down your shoulder to take your hand in his.

"Nothing important. Let's continue where we left off, my love."

You wanted to check for yourself but quickly shook the urge off when his lips locked with yours. Chuuya was right. No matter who it was, it didn’t matter. Right here, right now, only he did. You fell into his love, fell into the way his lips pressed against yours. You drowned in him, and you thought only of him.

And this ocean, this one you called home, you would happily drown in.

#bungou stray dogs #nakahara chuuya #bungou stray dogs chuuya #chuuya bsd #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs chuuya nakahara #bsd imagines #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #reader x chuuya #fluff writing #zai writes #zai does shitty edits

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elizabeth-234 · 3 years ago

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The Supplejack

Previous Chapter Eighteen: Existing

Chapter Nineteen: A Phone Call

As the weeks passed, Peter struggled in vain against the extra workload of his sophomore year classes. The balance between work, school, friends, and himself was everchanging, ever in threat of tipping off the edge of the proverbial blade. Though the latter was pushed to the side with increasing frequency and his bed was becoming more of a rare luxury much to his dismay.

The tub of tabouli, hummus, and carrots sat uneaten in front of him while Mike explained again why the discourse surrounding the new Firefly show was important to their group and the larger culture abroad.

“It’s a western in space, guys, how can you not like it? Plus, Nathan Fillion is working it. You know he’s damn charming.”   

“It’s basically a soap opera and you know it.” Midge said, arms crossed in front of them.

Mike sputtered and Ned stepped in before anyone else would get more offended. Still pouting his lips, Mike turned away from them and started shoveling down his lunch. Midge just sighed. Peter shifted in his seat wondering if he should say anything when Ned bumped shoulders with him.

“You okay?”

He forced a smile on his face. Ned waited for an answer, his eyes open and earnest. The expression made something in Peter’s chest ache. This bitter tug nestled down behind his ribs. Ned was dragged along in all of this. What started as befriending a lone boy in an empty classroom had turned into trying to gather intel from two of the biggest corporations in the world. Still, his friend was right there for him, ready and unfailingly patient with a smile.

“Want to hang out this weekend?” Peter asked instead of answering the question.

He wanted to do something. To have fun and get out of the house for once. His work shifts were pretty stacked up but it was worth it to rearrange them. Ned agreed if his answering smile was any indication.

“Yeah, dude. There’s this cool exhibit downtown about brainwashing. Maybe weird but it could be cool.”

“Sounds fun.” He said.

“Yeah, they get all these big companies to put something together. I’m surprised you know who didn’t do it. I hear Oscorp is holding one in the fall.” 

Peter rubbed his chest. The cafeteria noise rushed toward him. All the laughter and words and echoes pressed against him, weighing down. His smile felt wobbly to him but hoped it came off as sincere.

“We’ll have to check the one this weekend out.”

Ten hours later, Peter sat at his desk. His head resting in the crux of his arms crossed on the scattered papers and notebooks. He shifted in the chair and tried not to think about the coming week. The to-do list was somewhere in the mess under him. Every bullet point added another reason his headache was growing at an alarming rate.

One of the pages peaked out from under the curve of his elbow. The model car on it was dissected into the median and coronal planes showcasing all the guts. Why was he tinkering with it after all this time? No one would see it now. Red marks, newly etched into the paper some sleepless night would probably never leave this room let alone the top of his desk unless it was carried through the trash.

The thought of acknowledging he was finally abandoning the project left him gripping onto the papers tight in his palms. Even all these months later, Peter found himself tweaking their project and trying to improve upon it. Lee, the head intern, had said she was always available. Maybe he could email it over and then she could send it onto whoever her boss was? The chain of command wasn’t something he was entirely familiar with but eventually it had to land in his hands.

His phone buzzed.

Out of habit, Peter flipped it upside-down without looking to see who it was from. He tapped his finger against the wood until the sound stopped. He only just managed to sigh when the buzzing started again.

Phone calls were the worst. He hated answering the phone, hated talking over people and not seeing their facial expressions, and hated how goodbyes were always awkward. Above all he hated the way he could never talk in a coherent manner. Always felt like he was overstepping or worse in some people’s eyes, being too quiet.

Phone calls from anyone besides May were trouble. His aunt was in the living room so that meant it was bad. He could be expelled from Midtown or one of his friends could be hurt. Ned’s hands bloody. Julia’s heart stopping. Flash’s chest not rising anymore. Peter’s chest throbbed at the images. With sweaty hands he grabbed his phone off the desk and looked at the ID.

It was from an unknown number.

His thumb hovered over the green button as it rang but he didn’t answer.

If he didn’t answer it was easier to pretend nothing was wrong. The worry barely concealed by his expression was better left unfounded. He kept reading through one of his source books on mechanical engineering but the words held no meaning. His eyes kept returning to the flip phone sitting all innocent inches away from his hand.

His fingers twitched and the phone rang again.

Peter breathed in deeply before flipping it over. He read the number over again. Tried to memorize the digits quickly as if they would hold some significance the longer they were in his mind. The ringing continued and continued for what felt like forever.

His Uncle Ben came to mind. Without letting him linger for too long again, he flipped his phone open and pressed enter. The other side of the call was silent. There was no breathing or anything to indicate someone was there.

“Hello?” The crack in his voice echoed in his ears.

“Am I speaking to Peter?”

The voice was smooth - pristine in its cadence and rhythm. Unlike his own, the words were spoken with no hesitancy or irregular pitch. There never was, either. It was a voice Peter would recognize anywhere. Hearing them say his name now made him realize how much he missed them. It was a strange thought considering. How could he miss a voice so much?

He scowled. It wasn’t fair to minimize Friday to that of just their voice.

“Fr - Friday? I…How did you get this number?”

There was another pause. Peter wished he’d said something else instead of beginning with such a sharp tone. He could’ve asked how they were doing or greeted them with enthusiasm. Instead the panic from earlier manifested in more of a bark. Heat flooded from his neck up to his ears.

“I have scanned through the Stark databases and found this number on Boss’s phone.” He couldn’t help it. Peter laughed throwing a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. Friday’s silence was enough to confirm they heard but it didn’t dampen his smile.

This was Friday he was talking to. Peter couldn’t believe it and if the smile on his face was wide and almost made his cheeks hurt, he could almost forget about everything else.

“You stole my number from Mr. Stark’s phone?”

“Peter, as I said I scanned...”

“You did! Friday, I can’t believe it. Wait, is everything okay? Did something happen? Is … Mr. Sta- everyone’s okay, right? I mean you don’t have to tell me anything but is everyone…”

“Everyone’s fine. I’m sorry to have made you worry. I would also like to apologize for keeping silent. I called you friend once but haven’t acted in accordance to what constitutes that bond.”

Peter’s neck burned. Friday’s voice sounded as hesitant as Peter felt and he was glad, for once, he wasn’t in the Tower so they couldn’t hear his heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“No need to apologize. I just assumed when I left…”

“That has no bearing on it. There were other factors. Some I can talk about some I can’t.”

“Is, is this why you called? What can you talk about?”

Peter imagined Friday was taking a large breath in from the gap between answer and question. His heart, already beating far too fast for a regular school night, increased its speed.

“You need to come back to the Tower, Peter.”

His ears filled with cotton inducing a fuzzy ringing. It grew louder and louder until he found himself leaning his forehead against the desk. The phone rested where it fell on the table by his clenched hand. He scooped it up despite the trembling in his digits and brought the phone to his ear again.

“Friday?” He rasped out.

“You need to come back to the Tower. There are matters here that would… benefit from your presence.”

There were too many pauses in the sentence and a million phrases flowing through his mind in response. Following on his immediate responses were a plethora of images of the Tower. He conjured filled hospital beds, condemned signs, and most haunting, empty rooms. The worry gnawed at his stomach not caring about Friday’s reassurances. Something had to be wrong. Why else would Friday contact him? It had been months.

There was nothing more he wanted, but all he managed to say was, “I can’t.”

The pain it would bring was all too easy to think about. He’d had a taste of it at the finale internship presentations. The sheer amount of people buzzing with excitement was enough to dull the awkward hurt but Peter couldn’t forget how hard it was to breath once he was in the Tower again. The familiarity burned at his throat. What was a safe haven reduced to just some place he used to know had hurt more than he was willing to say out loud.

Friday wanted him to go back there after everything. No awards or parties would be there to distract. He would have to walk down the hallways and see the beautiful skyline only glimpsed at that height. He would have to see Mr. Stark.

What would he say? What would he do?

“I can’t work on the project anymore, Peter.”

It was devastating in its simplicity. A twist of the metaphorical knife Peter had never even felt embedded in his side. It was a rope taken away as his head sunk swiftly under water. All the progress he’d made even if he didn’t realize it, was gone in the moment those words were said.

Mr. Stark was clear. Final.

At the time there were a thousand words he’d wanted to say but then and now it didn’t seem right. Now, the sense of betrayal no longer stung because it didn’t matter that Mr. Stark knew all about the Weaver and Oscorp. In the end, no amount of explaining or conversation would fix anything because there was nothing to fix.

The steps he took through the door were some of the hardest in his life. His surreptitious glance back resulted in seeing Mr. Stark bowed and facing away from him. The frightened look crossing over his face before hardly seemed to matter in the face of those words. It told Peter all he needed to know. Peter wasn’t wanted. Who wanted to look after a confused teenager? His time there was over.

Or so, he thought.

Months and months passed and now Friday was on the other end like nothing happened. Was there an option besides declining?

He would have thought Friday didn’t know what happened but that was impossible. They knew basically everything that happened in the Tower. It could be some misplaced urge to help Peter. It didn’t make sense. Despite their reassurances, he couldn’t help but worry something was the matter and despite his caution, Peter was curious.

Still, he repeated the two words again. They sounded more like a plea than a decision.

“What you are saying is you won’t not that you can’t. I know you only have one job and the owner has already given permission. I’m asking with sincerity. I need your help…. We need your help.”

Peter took his time to exhale. He stared at the phone in his hands, tracing Friday’s number with his eyes.

He thought of all the reasons not to go back. But the latest realization barged forward. It was with surprising ease that Peter thought about all the help Mr. Stark had thrown his way. All of the encouragement and kindness he showed without Peter even understanding what was happening.

The question wasn’t if he wanted to go back. He would always want to go back. The Tower in a way had grown to be his home. A safe space he never felt drained from after being there. No one expected anything more than Peter could give and the peace of working there, flexing his mind and being with people who understood him was intoxicating.

He could admit to himself he wanted to say yes without thinking despite every reason to say no. He had to be cautious about this, he decided. Peter had to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt like before. That no one would get hurt.

“Friday, you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

Only when he knew could Peter go back. Only then would Peter step foot in the Tower again.

Enjoy!

Next Chapter Twenty:

#peter parker #irondad #peter parker fanfic #irondad fanfic #ao3 #Shy Peter #the supplejack

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violetnotez · 4 years ago

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SHE IS HERE. PART TWO. BY EXTREMELY POPULAR AND LATE DEMAND!!!!

This fic. THIS FIC RIGHT HERE. HAS BEEN FIGHTING SO HARD I AM DONE THIS HAS BEEN A STRUGGLE. If there are typos I AM SORRY- just msg me and ill fix it if its that bad im just tired!

Kirishima x reader

⤷Genre: Angst, Fluff

⤷Word Count: 9k+ (-this has the weekly prompt for the @bnhabookclub discord -“Im fine” :)

⤷ Warnings: slight mentions of blood, cursing, suggested spicyness at the end

⤷ Synopsis: It’s been exactly 3 months since the last time Kirishima saw you, after you had abruptly ended things with him. He’s been trying to forget you, but it’s no use-he’s still madly in love with you, and wishes he could get the truth of why you two ended. What a shocker when he gets a chance to ask his questions-and he learns the truth about your villainous life.

Song Recs: ⤷ “Breakeven”-The Script ⤷ “Lucid Dreams”- Juice WRLD ⤷ “Scars”- Lukas Graham

PART 1

Kirishima looked up at his calendar, a sad sigh escaping his lips.

That number shouldn’t be such a big deal, that plain black “11” tiny and insignificant next to all the other digits, like little ants stationary on the page.

What it represented, though, was so much more: that day so many weeks ago was so full of heartache and misery, the feeling of being lied to eating at his core for days to come.

Today, 3 months ago, was the day you confessed to him that you didn’t love him.

Kirishima has never felt so betrayed and heartbroken in his whole life: you were his first real love after all, and hearing you say your love was a lie destroyed him.

He didn’t know what to do or how to even react to that news: he had felt so numb after, so incredibly empty, it was like he was a walking shell of himself once he left your room.

His friends had tried to cheer him up constantly, always putting in the effort to lift his spirits with laughter and comfort. But the warmth of their attempts of cheering him up didn’t help him at all: he always still felt so cold inside.

It also didn’t help that you had mysteriously left UA the day after the “breakup.” When Kirishima laid his tired puffy eyes on your empty desk the next day, his heart couldn’t help but beat feverishly. He knew he shouldn’t care that you were gone, but he couldn’t help it. No matter which way he spun it, He was still desperately falling for you, even if you had broken his heart.

He had sat down, his back slumped as he eyed that empty seat with worry.

How had everything gone so wrong?

He couldn’t fathom what had gone stray-your love had honestly felt so real to him. You had told him you had only dated him out of pity-but if somebody was being forced to do something, just to spare someone’s feelings, would they have given him his first kiss so perfectly, making sure to be soft and gentle? Would they have stuck with him late into the night to help study for tests? Or give him sweet kisses on his scars when he was feeling self conscious?

It just didn’t add up-the feelings you two had were genuine and real. It couldn’t all be one sided like you had said.

He gave another look to that chair, just imagining the ghost of you sitting there, turning around and sending him that infectious smile that light up his whole day.

God, it wasn't even one whole day and he felt so incomplete without you.

Mr. Aizawa walked in, everyone scrambling to their seats and watching him intently, the room getting noticeably more quiet.

He didn’t remember much of that class-he had remembered Mr.Aizawa standing at the front of the class, his deep voice breaking his miserable thoughts when he said the class would be free of one student.

You had seemingly left in the middle of the night, your guardians notifying the school you would no longer be attending UA due to you moving. All of Class 1-A was incredibly confused, including Kirishima- you had never said you were moving, yet you somehow were just gone. As if you never existed.

It just didn’t add up to Kirishima-you would have said something about moving, or at least acted strange the weeks prior. All these events just didn’t make sense to Kirishima-the break up, your confession, you leaving-it all just didn’t add up. But he was too tired, too wrecked inside to think about it anymore. The more he tried to piece the story together the more it gnawed at him, making him feel so much more worse than he already felt. He slumped in his chair, knowing full well everyone was staring at him-you were his boyfriend after all, he should have known.

Oh wait-ex.

He slumped in his chair even more, barely the tips of his spiky red hair poking up from the desk table.

It was gonna be a long few weeks for him, he could already feel it.

Now he was past all those days of crying and breaking over you-some days he could actually forget about you and not have to worry. But on days that were permanently etched into his mind, like today, he couldn’t help but remember.

Kirishima's phone began to ring, the vibration of the call making the phone jitter against the wood of his desk. He tore himself away from the calendar, his hands instantly swiping to take the call once he saw the Caller ID.

“Hey Fat, how's it going!” Kirishima forced a smile, his voice preppy and bright as if nothing had ever happened.

“Kirishima, thanks for taking the call,” his mentor seemed to breathe a sigh of relief hearing his bright voice on the other end.

Since Kirishima was in his 3rd year, he was required to do another work study, for an even longer period of time than before. So when he was asked by Fatgum to come join the agency once again, he couldn’t help but say no. He had loved his old mentor back from his 1st year, even if he did get pretty banged up at the end of his work study. He was more than happy to join his agency again, and wanted nothing more to learn and grow to be the best hero he could be.

“I know this is pretty late in the day for you,” Fatgum continued, “but I’m going to need your help,”

“Tamaki was supposed to be patrolling on the West side of town tonight, but he got called in to help with a robbery on the North side. I don’t have anybody else to take his place, so I was hoping you could take over his shift for the night,”

“Of course! I’ll do anything you need,” Kirishima propped his phone into the crook of his neck, already rummaging around his room for his hero suit.

“You're a lifesaver Kirishima!” Fatgum exclaimed, the toothy grin he was most likely sporting practically audible.“See ya for training tomorrow then!”

“You too, Fat,” Kirishima's cheerful tone waned, a sad smile replacing his bright grin as he stared down at his hero suit.

He had already known today was going to be a tough day for him, and the fact that he was off from any type of hero work that would make him forget about his sadness didn’t help.

But now that Fatgum has given him a job tonight, he might be able to erase his mind of all the past heart ache for the next few hours. He gave himself a small smile, his hero suit beckoning him to put it on, the reds and blacks calling to him like ghosts from a dream.

He was gonna at least try to forget-just for the night.

It was now an hour before the end of his shift, and he was feeling practically tired.

The West side of town was relatively quiet, nowhere near the crime riddled areas of the North side of the city boulevard. He knew these streets well from patrolling them almost every night of his hero study, knowing each alleyway and path like the back of his hand.

Tonight was silent, only a few late night joggers or the occasional fast food joint open for any customers getting the late night munchies.

It was soft, provincial, and bitter sweet.

He was trying his best to not remember, to not remember your face, or your smile, or the way you would laugh so warmly whenever he did something amusing. He was trying not to imagine you standing by his side, your hand grabbing his and your shoulder resting on his, a happy sigh escaping your lips.

Why were still haunting him, even three months later?

why couldn’t he just forget about you?

A crash and a yell snapped Kirishima out of his memory, an angry scream of a teen being heard from the late night restaurant.

He shook his head to rid himself of those unwanted thoughts, noticing a black figure running across the parking lot into an alleyway at lightning speed.

“That-that Villian!” She shrieked, her friends trying to soothe her as she continued on her rampage, “She stole my wallet! My damn wallet! The hell-“

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll get it back for you, don’t worry!” He yelled towards the group, his voice warm and assuring as he sent her a toothy grin. His feet began pounding the pavement, disappearing into the alleyway in the direction of the criminal.

Your breath came out in painful huffs, your hand fumbling to put the wallet into the jacket of your Villian suit.

Damn Shigaraki and his “plans.”

Shigaraki has now concocted up his next bright idea for the League, this time relying on you stealing an ID card from a college student that looked similar to you.

While the LOV was going off stealing a bank for some extra cash, you were told to go find someone who looked similar to you in order to pass as them. for what you had no idea, but you knew Shigaraki would be extremely mad with you if you didn’t do what he asked. You shivered at the thought of him, those cold red eyes like bloody daggers ripping into your flesh.

You slowed to a stop, your breath coming out in pants as you pulled down the mask on your face, your breath finally free from the constricting fabric.

God you hated running.

Nobody seemed to be following you though, footsteps inaudible to your ears. You slinked into a dark corner of the alleyway, your hands rummaging inside the wallet for the ID card you desperately needed.

Cash, credit card, a picture of her and possibly her boyfriend,a shit ton of gift cards-

You breathed a sigh of relief, flicking out the desired card with a flourish. In the low light conditions you were in, it was hard to see her details, but you knew that it matched your complexion just enough to pass by.

Thank God, now Shigaraki wouldn’t be on your ass-

“Hey, it’s not cool to steal, man,” you heard a familiar voice echo throughout the concrete walls of the alleyway, making your blood run cold.

Shit, please not be him, anybody but him-

You instantly tugged your mask over your mouth and nose, praying to God it wasn’t him.

Maybe it was another hero, or somebody that just resembled him-

“Just give me back what you stole, and nothing bad will happen to ya,” Kirishima continued, his footsteps slow and solemn as he walked over to you, as if you were a wounded animal that could attack at any moment.

You shoved the wallet hastily into your jacket pocket, looking around, desperate for a way out.

Damn it-you were completely blocked from the back, a tall cement wall blocking your escape. The only way for you to get out was to somehow dodge Kirishima and make a run for it, or fight him.

God definitely had his favorites, and it obviously wasn’t you.

This boy was so quiet-all that hero training made him extremely agile, like a cat going forward it’s prey as he continued to walk towards you cautiously.

It was a shock to see him-he looked so much older, his handsome face making your heart squeeze painfully. He still sported his iconic red hair to match his suit, the only thing really changing was the amount of scars on his body. When you two had dated, you were so close to him you knew every valley, ditch, and scar on his body like your own.

He was getting stronger and tougher, growing to his goal while you were stuck in your life, still just a little pawn in Shigarakis decaying hands.

You didn’t feel like fighting him-you still felt guilty for the way you had ended things with him, even though it was weeks after. You knew it had to be done in order to protect him, but you also knew it had hurt him to the point of no return.

He had to have hated you now, and honestly, you didn’t blame him-it just hurt to know you lost a love you still felt. And it was your fault.

Kirishima watched your every move, not suspecting a thing-you were just another thug, another puny Villain he had to take down. Even though it was decent fun to take a criminal down, dealing with witnesses, the police, and paperwork was quite the opposite. But it’d get his mind off of his own misery.

The Villain seemed strange though-as if they were terrified by the mere sight of him. They weren’t even trying to bad mouth him, which was a definite first for him. It was hard to see in the dark alleyway, but he could make out the outline of the thief trying to quickly dodge him, trying to break into a run to get out of the cramped dead end.

Kirishima swiftly grabbed the arm of their leather jacket, pulling your squirming body close to his.

You were screaming internally-he needed to let go, he had to let go. Your heart felt like it was ripping apart, the sudden memories flooding your body as you remembered how it felt to be so close to him, to be so intimate you could see the flecks of brown in his vermillion red eyes. You didn’t want him to realize it was you, to see you as his enemy yet again. You couldn’t bear to see the heartbreak and disappointment in his eyes, your hands clawing to get away.

“Hey-just calm down a little-“ he huffed out, the words separated as he tried to keep a hold on your body.

It was strange to him though-you weren’t even talking, not a peep was spilling out of your lips. You seemed pretty young, and by your smaller frame, you were most likely female. You seemed

so scared, your eyes bright with desperation and fright.

His larger hands kept you close to him, his heart pinging with hurt-

There was no way this was you. He was going crazy-those weren’t your eyes.

But God, they looked so familiar-your eyes looked exactly like that the day you two broke up. Full of fear and sadness and guilt-

This wasn’t you, this couldn’t be you, but-if it was-

With one hand firmly wrapped your waist and another shakily reaching toward your mask, your body fighting desperately to get him to stop. Even through your attempts, he pulled the material gently off your skin, The flimsy black mask falling to the ground pitifully. your face looking down at the ground with embarrassment, now knowing your cover was blown.

Kirishima's heart beat painfully-it was you, this was you.

What had happened?

“Y-y/n?” He stuttered out, his voice caught pitifully in his throat.

You swallowed thickly, trying to shove the dry ball of embarrassment down your throat.

“H-hi Kiri,”

He quickly let go of you, his body blocking your exit as he stared at you in disbelief.

You looked so different, so unlike you-you were wearing a completely black outfit, the material shiny like wet rocks near a dark river. Your hair was pulled back painfully tight, your eyes looking down at your scuffed combat boots in despair.

You looked so defeated and so sad, as if there was no happiness left in your body.

Who even were you?

“What happened to you? Why are stealing? Where have you even been?” He bombarded you with questions, his voice getting more and more authoritative and desperate as questions flooded his mind.

You couldn’t even think to comprehend an answer to any of them-you just needed to forget this encounter ever happened. For your and Kirishima’s sanity and, most importantly, safety.

“Just let me go Kirishima,” you dodged his question, taking a step forward to push your way out of the alleyway.

Kirishima's body was bigger and stronger though, and with each shuffle you attempted he would close the gap between you two, blocking your escape solely with his body.

“No, I-I need answers y/n,” he replied. His voice sounded so hurt, so full of anguished you felt your heart break a little more. He was still hurting, and now he was confused, seeing you all dressed up and committing crimes like a low level Villian.

“I need to know what happened to you.”

You faulted in your step, staring at Kirishima with wide, mournful eyes. You made yet another attempt to surpass him, your shoulder a mere centimeters away from his as you tried to walk past him.

“Nothing happened Kirishima, please just let me-“

If you thought you were going to leave that easily, you were crazy.

He swiftly grabbed your arm, his calloused hands rough against the leather of your jacket. Even through the thick material you could feel how warm he was-he always radiated such heat and brightness.

“Why did you leave UA?” He was abrupt with his question, but the hint of softness faltered his harsh exterior-he was still worried for you.

A deep sigh cascaded from your lips, your brow starting to sweat. You were tired of dealing with this heavy burden, this spider web of lies you had created for your own self. You still loved Kiri, yes, but your relationship was over and done. There was really no fear of judgement anymore. Hell, he just saw you steal a wallet like a low level thug-how much more could he judge you in this moment?

“You want the truth Kiri?” Your voice was blunt, and monotone, a shield from your true emotions.

“You want to know who I really am? I-I’m a Villian. I work for the LOV. I only went to UA because I had to listen to Shigaraki. He needed info and I was the only one to do it.”

You sneaked a peek at Kirishima's face, a slight grimace on your lips as you anticipated the look of disgust on his face. Your heart thumped painfully, waiting for him to look at you with revulsion, but-it never came. His bright vermillion eyes still stared down at you softly, his eyes coated with worry and sympathy.

“So-you were being forced?”

“At first I wanted to do it-b-but after I while, I started to change my mind,”

he was so warm, his body heat seeping into your cold skin like a fire on a winter's night. Even now, in this dark alley, exactly 3 months from your terrible breakup-he still could make you feel safe. He was your home in the snow storm, so warm and comforting when the rest of the world was so unforgiving and icy. You relished the feeling of his calloused palms on your body, wishing those hands were on your skin instead of your jacket so they could slowly warm your whole body with their wonderful heat.

“Then why did you leave?”

You gulped, licking your lips tentatively. Did you really want to tell him the truth? Tell him how weak you truly were? You honestly didn’t, a part of you screaming to just feed him a lie that would satiate you both-but the thought of living with even more of a guilty conscience made your mouth go dry. He didn't deserve another lie-after all you did to him, Kirishima deserved the truth.

“I-I didn’t want to get hurt. I didn’t want you to get hurt. If Shigaraki found out I was considering leaving the LOV, he would have done anything in his power to keep me.”

“You don’t know the League like I do. When I mean he would do anything-he would do anything-including killing.”

Kirishima's eyes momentarily widened, the brutal words cutting the air like a knife. It didn’t surprise him, though-he was a hero in training after all. He had been in too many dangerous run ins with villians-hell, he couldn’t even count how many times he could have died just in his first year at UA. Death was a recurring threat in Kirishima's life, and , for better or worse, it didn’t scare him as much as it used to.

“Kiri-I-I lied to you to keep you safe. You meant the world to me-You still do. I still think about you all the time, and I know you probably hate me, but I still love you. I never stopped.”

He watched your eyes turn down in shame, your head hanging low as if you were carrying a great burden. It was painstakingly obvious you were feeling guilty and remorseful, and his heart throbbed at the thought that of you being forced to continue on with this life. We all made dumb mistakes when we were younger-you shouldn’t have to keep the burden of your past decisions still.

As much as he felt sympathy for you, he couldn't help but feel so happy that you still had feelings for him. No matter how he spun it, he still cared for you and loved you with all his heart-hearing The same thoughts come from you just made him fall for you even more.

He gingerly took your chin in his hands, his calloused digits lifting your sullen head in order for him to look at you fully. Even when you looked so downtrodden, you were absolutely beautiful to him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“God, take the words right out of mouth, huh?”

Kirishima's heartbeat feverishly in his chest-what he was about to do was so incredibly risky, but he had to do it. Too many nights he spent dreaming and remembering you, the memories bitter sweet. Now that he had you in front of him, he was going to take any chance he could go get those sensations back in his life.

Kirishima placed his lips gently on yours, knocking the wind out of your lungs. You couldn’t breathe-it was like you were drowning on his essence-yet you couldn’t careless. Warmth filled your stomach, fueling all over your body like a hot flame. It was so comforting and surreal to be feeling this again, to have Kirishima's hot lips pressed against yours.

He parted from you, both of you buzzing with electricity. It was surprising how much truth that kiss held-it melted the cocoon you two had around your hearts, allowing you two to see how much you had truly missed each other.

“ Y/n, I miss you, I knew that night you said you didn’t love me, something wasn’t right,” he spoke, his breath fanning your lips gently. “I knew there was more than what you were letting on.”

Kirishima grabbed your arms suddenly, looking you square in the face with intense eyes.

“ Y/n, you should have left then and there! We would have protected you! I would have protected! I promise I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you-“

“Y/n, you need to leave them, please,”

You sighed, hating how quickly the air thickened with the remembrance of your current situation.

“Kiri, I don’t want anybody to potentially get hurt because of my dumbass decisions, I’m fine, I can handle myself-“

“Y/n, no your not fine! Look at you-,”he motioned to your clothing and your sullen face, “this isn’t you at all!

“Kiri, please, don’t give me false hope-“ you shoved him off, wrapping your arms around your body to protect yourself. If you didn’t get control of yourself, you would follow his words in a heartbeat. As much as you would love to run into the strong arms of Kirishima, for him to warm your numb body with his positive energy- you knew it was dangerous. You didn’t want anybody to get hurt over you.

“It isn’t false hope though….” He smiled sweetly at you, his hand stretched out to you, “please, just take my hand, Kay? Nothing bad will happen, I promise,”

You stared at him long and hard, your eyes wide with fear and uncertainty-he was so genuine, so warm, so forgiving. He wanted to help you, he was willing and ready. He wanted to fight the world with you by his side, to protect the people he needed to protect with his loving energy. Kirishima had a way of making you believe anything that came out of his mouth, and you were falling for his spell. You didn’t know if it was the shock from seeing him after so long, his kiss, or just from wanting to leave so badly, but you stretched out your hand, ready for him to take you away.

a cruel, scraggly voice boomed from the shadows, “He promises to keep his little love bird safe.”

“How touching.”

You two spun your heads around at the sound of the ominous voice, your blood running cold.

“Shigaraki,” you gasped out, your eyes glued onto your leader.

He was smiling a sick grin, his expression sadistic and cruel as he stood in a few paces away from you two. He was clothed in his Villain suit, his clothes tattered and dark like the Grim Reaper himself.

Spinner and Twice were standing close by, surveying the scene from above as Shigaraki sauntered to you two. Kirishima's expression instantly turned from softness to determination, his body instantly turning to shield yours.

“Oh no need to act so heroic hero,” he grinned, his tone sickeningly sweet life cough syrup.

“Just give us our comrade and we’ll be on our way.”

“You're not going anywhere with her!” Kirishima yelled, his quirk activating in his arm as he shielded you from Shigaraki. “She doesn’t want to be with you scumbags anymore!”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, especially for trying to defend a spineless traitor like her.”

Kirishima's face turned red in anger, his whole body now turning as solid as a rock as he charged your former leader.

“You piece of-“

Shigaraki continued the sick grin plastered on his face as Spinner and Twice instantly jumped from their positions, grabbing Kirishima's arms and roughly slamming him into the nearby wall. You heard the air forces out of Kirishima's lungs, his face contorted in pain. Your heart felt as if it was getting stabbed as you watched Kirishima struggle against their holds.

“Kirishima!” You screamed, your body yelling at you to help him-but you knew you couldn’t take on those two by yourself, not even including Shigaraki.

You turned to the villainous man in front of you, your eyes pleading.

“Shigaraki, please, tell them to let him go-let him go!”

He took a step toward you, his footsteps ringing slowly like the ticks of an old clock.

“Oh, I will,” he replied, his voice low and sadistic, “-when you rejoin the League.

“ I’d kill you right now for being such a selfish brat if I didn’t need you-so take it as a gift. I’ll spare your life if you just come-“

“Never,” you spat at him, fear filling your stomach with your defiance. You were surprised to hear how steady your voice was, but the slight Tremble in your fists said otherwise.

“Fine then,” he smirked, “suit yourself-“

With a wave of his decaying hands, Spinner and Twice began to use their full force on Kirishima-punching, kicking, anything to torture him. He was trying his best to block them, even with his quirk-but they were quite strong, especially once Twice used his quirk to produce more of his own body. It quickly began evident that Kirishima was having a hard time to fight off the villains, his Stance slowly becoming weaker and weaker as his face began to bruise and his arm dusted with his own blood.

You were hopeless to just watch, watching your worst fear come to life-people we’re already getting hurt over you.

Anger filled your stomach, licking up your body like hot flames as you turned to charge Shigaraki, fire in your eyes.

“Stop it you crusty ass-“ you yelled out, your fists out as you tried to land a punch on the Villian.

He seemed to know your exact movements though, his hands harshly grabbing your wrists and mouth, colliding your body with his.

“I’d watch that mouth of yours if I were you, unless you want it to disintegrate-along with the rest of you-“

Shit.

You had momentarily forgotten about Shigaraki’s dangerous quirk-one wrong move and you could be a heap on the ground, nothing more. The fingers around your mouth were delicate, knowing full well you wouldn’t try and escape. They drummed playfully against your mouth, as if taunting you to do something foolish. You felt how cold he was, the feeling of his chapped skin on yours disgusting as he toyed with your life in his hands.

It was all a game for him-and he was winning.

“Look at him-“ Shigaraki ordered, the grip around your mouth suddenly tightening as he twisted your head to face Kirishima's misery.

“You caused this, y/n. All this pain, all this suffering. If you leave, he will be the first we target. Well slowly go after each and every person you have ever loved, until we finally come for you.”

“Now, you don’t want that, do you?” He asked, his face tilting in order to see your answer. You forced yourself to not look at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the small tears running down your cheeks.

All you could muster was a small shake of your head, the vibration of your movement going through Shigarakis finger tips.

Through the fists and clones he was trying to fight off, Kirishima could see you shaking your head, Shigaraki looking practically happy by your answer. A sinking feeling filled Kirishima's stomach as he saw your body language slouch in defeat. He Tried to call at you, to stop you from agreeing to whatever was coming out of Shigarakis lying lips, but at that moment one of the clones landed a solid punch to his stomach. Kirishima felt all the air leave out of his lungs , his knees wobbling and hitting the floor as his head spun from the pain.

Shigaraki still had his hold on you, watching how your face crumpled as you watched Kirishima fall and unable to help.

“Good, now, will you come and rejoin?” He asked one last time, motioning for his comrades to move away from Kirishima and back to their spot on the roof of the alleyway.

He knew now he had you under his finger, knowing the show he had just made you watched instilled enough fear for you to never leave his team again. He watched your eyes cower to give one last look at Kirishima's crumpled body, your shoulders tense with stress.

“I-I’ll rejoin the League,” you whispered out, feeling the hold Shigaraki had on you loosen.

It was tearing you up inside to see Kirishima so bruised and hurt on the ground-you focused on the signs of him breathing, his broad chest rising and falling as he struggled to push himself back up. That small evidence gave you courage, your heart racing as you will yourself to continue with the plan you had secretly been concocting this whole time.

You grunted, a sly smirk erupting on your face.

“After I do this-“

You swiftly grabbed Shigarakis arm, twisting it in an excruciating position behind his back. He yelled out in pain, a string of curses filling the night as you rammed your fist into his chest, sending the air out of his lungs. He stumbled dramatically, dry coughs spewing out of his lungs as his knees hit the floor.

“You no longer have power over me-none of you do,” you stood defiantly in that alleyway, watching your ex comrades stare at you in shock and awe. In all your time with the LOV, you had never defied them. Not once. You were always so obedient, which was why Shigaraki loved to have you around as a n asset to his team-you were so easy to keep around his finger.

But now you were clearly being rebellious, your stony face telling the whole group you had changed-you didn’t give a damn about their threats and their rules anymore. You wouldn’t be coming back.

A burst of fear and extreme annoyance flooded Shigarakis' system, the pain of your kick aiding fuel to the flame. He growled, a curse directed at you dribbling from his lips as his thin legs wobbled his body weight up. His mouth opened to send you another string of curses, ready to unleash his full wrath on you for embarrassing him so much, until a characteristic siren filled the night air.

Kirishima propped himself onto his knees, a tried grin gracing his bruising lips.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you-“

His hand lifted, showing the whole group a small contraption in his hand. In the darkness of the alleyway it was hard to tell what it was, but it seemed Kirishima was holding a phone, a route to your location lighting up the screen.

“My mentor gave all us heroes-in-training a tracker, just in case we get into any trouble. While you were blabbering on about plans, I sent the heroes our location.”

Kirishima smiled triumphantly at the fearful faces of Shigaraki’s comrades, Shigarakis own fave contorted in rage.

The sirens were slowly getting louder, the colors of blue and red dancing lightly against the stony walls of the alley way.

“So unless you wanna get caught by the heroes,” he added in, his tone surprisingly friendly, “ I suggest you go.”

Shigaraki seemed waver, trying to see if he could still get you back under the terrible circumstances. But the cops were practically here, the sounds of car doors slamming being heard. He had to admit it to himself-he lost this battle. He gave you one last scornful look, his bloody irises sending a shiver down your spine as he took off with his comrades, not leaving a trace.

You could already hear the police officers stepping out of their cars, fear flooding your stomach. Even though you had just defied the League, you were still a criminal. You had been doing illegal activities for months now-hell, you just stole a girls wallet 15 minutes ago and it was still in your damn pocket.

Even though a part of you was screaming for you to run as well, you fought off that flight response in order to help Kirishima off the floor.

His skin still feels warm, your hands making sure not to touch the tender parts of his skin from his fight. Even though he was smiling, you could tell he was in some pain. Your worst fear was already being realized-he got hurt over you. For you. You could never repay him for that, the guilt seeping into your core.

“Kiri are you okay? Please tell me you are,” you pushed out, the tone of your voice desperate and pleading. “I’m so sorry-“

Kirishima looked up, his vermillion eyes as bright as ever as he caresses your cheek, sweeping the single tear off your face.

“For what? You did nothing wrong y/n, you don’t have to be so sad over me-this is my job after all!” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood as you began to help him stand up. He was slightly wobbly on his feet but seemed to be doing just fine.

He gave you a small smile, a hint of worry in his eyes as he heard footsteps coming behind him.

“Just-let me do the talking, Kay?” He waited for you to give him a nod, his hands giving yours a gentle squeeze.

“Do you still have the wallet you stole?”

“The-? Oh, yeah, I do,” you stated quickly, the wallet resurfacing in your mind as you rummaged in your jacket, pulling it out and shoving it into his hand.

“Thanks,” he smiled at you, his cheeks warm as he faltered for the smallest second.

It was evident he wanted to lean in and kiss you-the way he stared at your lips was quite evident and brought a blush to your cheeks.

But Kirishima was still on duty, and couldn’t be so openly romantic when he was in his hero suit as well being approached by law enforcement. He instead opted to kiss your cheek, the smooth skin of his lips warming your whole body as he walked over to greet the police officer.

Kirishima has spoke to the police officer for quite a while, a few others watching close behind as they surveyed you. You felt strange, standing there so alone as you watched Kirishima talk to the officer so warmly.

You didn’t know what he was saying, or what he was doing, but you were hoping he was somehow sweet talking the officers. You watched him point to you at one point, his warm smile assuring your terrified face as the officer looked you up and down tentatively.

He motioned you to come over, as if trying to get a frightened animal to come near him. You followed his command, your steps hesitant as you approached the two men.

The officer face was hardened until he saw the look of terror on your face, his expression softening slightly.

“This is her?” He asked gruffly, turning to Kirishima.

“Yes,” he nodded his head in confirmation. “The LOV have been brainwashing her for their plans-she has intel the heroes could use to our advantage. Fat Gum’s agency needs her straight away in order to get that info from her. I promise we will get her in the system and any other information you may need on file.”

The officer gave you two a long look, sighing as he scratched his chin.

“Alright,” he complied, a huge smile erupting on Kirishimas face. “You two need a ride? You look pretty messed up.”

Kirishima gave a small chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Uh-yeah, THAT'D be pretty nice actually-“

After the small car ride to Fat Gum’s agency, you had helped Kirishima out of the car and to Fat Gum’s office at the top floor. It seemed like someone had already alerted Fat Gum to Kirishima's arrival, because you two were instantly met by the pro hero with worried eyes once you reached his office.

“God Kirishima you had me so worried for a second!” He yelled, striding over to the bruised hero, “that receptionist really made it sound like you were in need of medical attention or something-“

“I’m fine Fat, you don’t gotta worry about me!” Kirishima said good naturedly, his perfect teeth glistening in the fluorescent lights. “I actually have some things I need your help with-“

“You definitely do if you're bringing a civilian into the office,” FatGum stared down at you with a warm smile, your heart beating guiltily. It was strange to see the hero in normal clothing in not in his larger form, his stature so much smaller it seemed from his usually large frame.

“The names Fat, but you can call me Taishiro!” He held out his hand in front of you, his bright personality radiating off of him, “and you are-“

“I-I’m y/n, sir,” you said hesitantly, taking your smaller hand in his. He was just as warm as Kirishima, like a bright ball of sun.

No wonder Kirishima interned with Fatgum-he was just like him. Bright, fun, kind. Everything you so dearly craved for in your life, but couldn't quite grasp.

“I’m sorry, I’m not a civilian-I’m a criminal, a Villian,” you muttered sadly, your head hanging low, “well, I was-“

Fat Gum gave Kirishima a confused look, his happy exterior dropping slightly.

“She was being forced to be a Villain by Shigaraki,” Kirishima quickly stepped forward, his tone serious as he defended you. “She wanted to leave the LOV, but they were threatening her.

“She didn’t do anything wrong-she just wanted to protect herself and the people around her.”

Fat Gum scratched the side of his cheek, his eyes lost in thought.

“Well Thats a strange situation to be in-I’m assuming you two know each other?”

You looked at Kirishima, red blossoming your cheeks just like his.

Maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell his mentor that you had dramatically broke up with Kirishima over 3 months ago.

“We uh-“ Kirishima started, his voice wavering in uncertainty.

“We were classmates,” you chided in quickly, “I went to UA along with Kirishima, but the LOV forced me to leave the school.”

Fat Gum nodded his head, a sigh escaping his lips. “So-you’ve been working as a Villain, but against your will?”

You nodded your head, your breath caught in your throat as you awaited for the hero's reaction to this news of your true identity.

“This will get a little fuzzy legal wise, especially if people are looking for you-some may not trust what you say, even if you left the League and do everything in your power to change their minds.”

“Don’t worry though, I believe you,” the hero placed his hand in your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I believe Red Riot full heartedly in his perception of others and I’m pretty good at reading people too. I can tell youre not what the League tried to make you into.”

He sent you a warm grin, making you feel safe for what had felt like a long time.

“Would you be willing to answer questions about the League? about how they operate, how large they are, their plans-“

“Yes, anything to end them and help the heroes,” you answered quickly, your tone set in determination, “I’d be willing to do all of it.”

“Well that settles it!” Fat Gum said happily, the smile back on his face. “Tomorrow we’ll start talking to you about your experience with the League-but you two seem to need a well deserved nap.”

“Why don’t you keep her in your apartment Kirishima?” FatGum turned to the hero, Kirishimas dusted in pink by the proposition. “Shell feel

a little more comfortable since you're someone she knows, and she’s also close to the agency.”

Fat Gum gave you a soft smile, his eyes filled with reassurance. “Heroes will be around all day and all night, so nobody can come in and out.”

It surprised you how intuitive the hero was-he knew exactly how you were feeling.

Even though you knew it was foolish, you still felt that somehow the League would find you and try to bring you back. You had clearly defied them, and it scared you that they be trying to get their revenge.

But Fatgums charming smile was so reassuring and welcoming, you couldn’t give him a small smile back.

“I think I can manage that arrangement.”

“Good then,” he gave you two one last smile, ushering you two out the door, “make sure to get some rest-tomorrow will definitely be a long day. Make sure those injuries are doing well too, alright?”

You both gave the hero a curt response, turning your backs from the now closed doors.

Kirishima's heart began to beat intensely, his stomach filling with butterflies.

You had agreed to stay in his room? God, if someone had told him a few hours ago you’d be staying the night with him, he’d wouldn’t believe it for a second. But now this was happening, and he couldn’t be more ecstatic or nervous.

He stared at your profile, not missing the dusting of red on your cheeks-you were nervous too? It made him feel a little better inside, a small smile gracing his lips as he stretched out his hand.

“You ready?”

You looked down at the outstretched sha s in front of you, taking his palm in yours tentatively.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,”

He lead you through the agency, taking an elevator a few levels down in order to get to the apartments specifically for the heroes in training.

It was a short trip, but the fatigue that wa a beginning to hit your body was making it feel so much longer. The adrenaline rush you had felt all night was wearing off, your eyes fluttering as you will yourself to stay awake.

Kirishima noticed your sleepy state, a small chuckle escaping from his chest.

“You feeling tired?”

“Just-a little,” you yawned out, wrapping your hands around your body.

“Don’t worry-were almost at my place,” he gave you a sweet smile, his hands outstretched for yours as the elevator door opened. You took it gratefully, letting him lead you to his door as he opened it with ease.

You stepped inside, adjusting from the darkness as you took in the sight in front of you.

The room smelled of him-the warm and musky scent ofhis cologne lingering in the air. It was almost teasing you with its memories, a wave of comfort washing over you as you recalled all the times you buried your nose into his neck and smelled his scent.

His room was pretty neat, surprisingly, his desk organized and his walls decorated with a few posters. You recognized some from his old room at UA-a Crimson Riot, his favorite band, and even a calendar he used to use frequently.

Some areas of his room signaled the busy life of his work stidy, his unmade bed strewn with clothing he had hastily ripped off, a small pile of clothes in a pile and his laptop charging in a corner of the room.

Kirishima cursed himself as he looked around the room, painstakingly noticing every little detail and mess, hating how he hadn’t cleaned up his room that day.

“Sorry for the mess, I didn’t expect to have anyone,” he chuckled nervously, already going around and picking up his things.

“It’s fine-I like it,”

You were speaking the truth when you said it-you liked how it was so him, showing a glimpse into his daily life. It was warm and comforting, even residential, to see him in his day to day life.

“You do?”

You hummed a “yes”, feeling your heart beat fast when Kirishima closed the gap between you two, his palms gently grasping your arms. He breathed in a deep sigh, holding you close.

“God, you don’t know how much I missed you,” he sighed out breathlessly.

“I missed you too Kiri,” you looked down, old guilt resurfacing inside you, “I’m still sorry for being so-so mean to you-I should have just told you the truth, I shouldn't have lied-“

Kirishima smiled softly, lifting your chin with his finger.

“Don’t worry about that! That was in the past-now it’s just you and me, kay? You don’t have to worry about any of that, now”

He gave you a long look, sorry buried in his brows as you ran his fingers along your skin, feeling the bags under your eyes. You inhaled a deep breath, loving the electricity Kirishima set into your skin just from his touch.

“You really are tired, huh?” He asked quietly, his voice husky from exhaustion himself.

“And you're not?” You gave him a quirky smile, making him blush with a chuckle.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” he gave you a small grin, his hands returning back to their spots on your arms.

“Do you wanna sleep? You can take the bed if you want-I know it’s not made, but I can sleep on the couch if you’d like-“

“I want to sleep with you,” you replied softly, your eyes widening once you realized what you had just said.

You wanted to sleep with him? God, you sounded so perverted!

“I-I mean I want to go to bed with you-I didnt mean-I just didn’t want to make you sleep somewhere else, since this your room-“

Kirishima's face was incredibly red, but the smile was still plastered on his face.

“Oh it’s alright, I really don’t mind either way.“

He pulled himself away from you gently, as he began searching through his dresser for some clothes.

“So-bed together?”

“Yup!” You replied back, popping the p as You sat on the unmade bed, your fingers dragging against the plus fabric as Kirishima turned around, sitting in front of you as he handed you one of his shirts.

“I know you don’t have any pajamas, so you can wear one of my shirts until we get you some clothes.”

“Mm, sounds good,” you smiled tenderly, loving how close he was as you ran your hands through his hair.

He sighed into your touch as he nuzzled into your skin, his breath warm against your skin.

He sat there for a few moments, finally rising sluggish and slow.

“Gotta move-or I’ll fall asleep right there,” he chuckled, walking over to the front of his closet. He began to take off the pieces of his hero suit, the large gears on his arms hitting the floor with a thud.

You admired how broad his shoulders were, the way his muscles rippled so evidently as he moved his bones to his will. He was so perfectly built, you could t help but drool at the firmness of his skin.

“Having fun over there?,” he turned around, a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he undid the belt around his waist.

“Just a little,” you gave him a small grin, hear flooding your face as you held the shirt close to your chest.

“You can go change in the bathroom if you’d like-you don’t have to stay out here if you’re not comfortable,”

“And what if I am?”

You laughed at the clearly evident blush on his cheeks, his face trying to hide the rush of embarrassment.

“Your a handful,” he chuckled, his hand running through his hair nervously.

He knew you were joking, and you two had only sorta, maybe gotten back together lass than an hour ago-but damn if he wasn’t nervous and excited by you being so flirtatious-in his room.

For the rest of the night.

You gave him one last smile before you disappeared into the bathroom, your hands closing the door gently.

God, it felt so nice to be in his arms again, to feel safe and warm. You had missed the fluttering feeling Kirishima gave you, like you could fly away at any moment and you could care less. You brought your nose to the cloth of the worn shirt, the powerful smell of his detergent and cologne washing over you. It was so comforting, a nostalgic feeling filling your body as you remembered how much you missed his scent.

You quickly stripped of your clothes, happy to be free of the uncomfortable garments finally. Since Kirishima didn’t hand you any shorts to wear, you decided to only wear the shirt he had given you over your underwear. The softness of the shirt felt so relaxing against your tired skin, almost like getting a hug from the boy himself. You smiled a deep sigh, happy to see that the shirt was long enough to at least cover your underwear from plan view and you splashed your face with some cold water, rinsing away all the fears from tonight.

You would have a long day tomorrow answering questions about the League-you could at least give yourself tonight to forget and be worry free.

Kirishima was hastily changing before you came out of the bathroom, dreading the idea of you seeing him half naked as he swapped out of his hero suit. He opted to wear something comfortable, grey sweatpants and an old black tshirt, his body running frantically to clean his room. Now that he got the chance to properly clean his room, he was a mad man trying to make it to his liking. He shoved clothes into his closet, made his bed, even hiding cords under his bed.

If you were going to be in his room, he was at least going to give off some impression of him being neat.

He was now laying on his newly made bed, his hands occupied with checking his phone as he heard the bathroom door opening, your footsteps soft on the carpet of his room.

He looked up, a question about to fall from his lips until his mind went completely blank at the sight of you.

There you were, standing in his room, looking as beautiful as ever wearing his shirt and nothing else. He couldn't help but stare at your legs, worshipping the curves as his mouth was agape from awe.

He didn’t fully prepare himself at the sight of you in his clothes, but god did you wear them so perfectly-

“You okay Kiri?” You gave a nervous laugh, striding over to the bed, settling your knees on the plush comforter.

The shirt road up from the movement t, showing more of those pretty thighs of yours that made him practically drool.

“Ne-never been better!” He tried to compose himself, his voice rising slightly.

God, he needed to get ahold of himself.

“You look pretty comfy,” he gave a small comment on your outfit, loving how bashful you look at the comment.

“Of course I am,” you replied back, crawling over to his side of the bed. He gulped at the sight of you coming so close to him, “I’m in your clothes after all.”

You sat your body next to Kirishima, your hand finding his as your other lightly rested on his stomach.

“You know, I’ve always thought you looked good in anything,” he smiled, his eyes dark like wine, “but you wearing my clothes-you looked best in that,”

“Really?” You gave the boy a shit eating grin, knowing full well you were playing a dangerous game now.

This night could end in two different scenarios: one could complicate things, and one could really complicate things.

You’d take the latter, if he was willing.

You shifted your body around him, straddling his waist as his shirt rode up, exposing your thighs even more.

“And what about when they're not on?”

Kirishima's heart beat at an insane pace in his chest-was this wrong to do? He didn’t know and frankly, he didn’t care at that moment.

He returned the smile, his hands traveling underneath the soft shirt.

“Even better.”

Tagging (anyone who commented or asked for a part 2- I tried to get everyone!):

@cellotonin @bakugous-forehead @lgbtonystarks @marrypuffsstuff @lady-bakuhoe @kurinhimenezu @hipster-merchant-of-death @hot-pocket01 @bubblegum-bee-otch @kai-charm

#bnha #bnha x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha kirishima x reader #mha kirishima x reader #kirishima one shot #kirishima x you #bnha kirishima x you #mha kirishima x you #kirishima x y/n #bnha kirishima x y/n #mha kirishima x y/n

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planetjisungie · 4 years ago

Text

lucky charms- h.rj

characters; ravenclaw! renjun x hufflepuff! reader ft. gryffindor! mark and gryffindor! jeno (sigh)

summary; with the exams coming up, you need a little help with your charms. well you dont, you just needed an excuse to talk to your long time crush, huang renjun

an; i literally changed this on the spot 🤡 plot holes here i come- (also id like to think jeno is more of a hufflepuff but idk man)

sigh okay this is a long boi

end of year exams were in just a few weeks

yay, your absolute favourite !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sarcasm

now, charms

in room 99, classroom 2E in the south tower

i did my research

you were pretty good at charms, not nearly as good as you were in the care of magical creatures and herbology though

still above averagely good

you know who else was good at charms?

huang renjun

the star ravenclaw prince boy, the pride of the house and a very beautiful boy

best boi renjun

if jeno was being quite honest he was SICK AND TIRED of hearing you two pine over eachother

jeno met you in first year, and you quickly became best friends and even ended up in the same house as eachother

despite having different friend groups (your friend group consisted of you and eunji), you stayed best friends until now aka 5th year

just go with it okay

so as he was saying before i digressed, jeno physically is pained as he watched the longing glances both you and renjun throw when the other isnt looking

but it isnt his business to meddle with your lack of relationship problems

best boi part 2

BUT! but! he will give you both a tiny! eensy! little! minuscule! nudge

that nudge being forming a plan with you

you were slightly reluctant when jenos very enthusiastic face greeted you at the table saying he had ‘a totally brilliant, spectacular, show stopping, wonderful, flawless plan’

this was jeno we were talking about

the same boy who planned the failed midnight snack run a few weeks before

and as soon as he mentioned renjun your eyes narrowed

"proceed."

the plan was for jeno to ask renjun to tutor his friend who was falling behind in charms

said friend was you

and you were ahead of the class

bUT!! you agreed because he wasnt in your class, so there was no way he could know that right?

wrong.

who was in your class?

mark lee. one of renjuns best friends.

also the boyfriend of eunji and the reason you wanted to gauge your eyeballs out everytime you turned around to talk to them

thats right eunji ditched you to sit next to her little markie. bitch.

nonetheless, you agreed because your dumb, spontaneous ass forgot that renjun even knew mark, because if someone said ‘whos mark?’ you would go ‘eunjis boyfriend’

so of course, when all the students were making their way to their class, jeno caught up with renjun seeing as they both had muggle studdies

"hey man, i have a favour to ask"

stage one of operation: stop the oblivious fuckers from pining over eachother (that name may need some revamping) was a-go

"depends what said favour is"

smart boi™️

"is it possible to tutor one of my friends in charms for the upcoming OWLs?"

oh? this piqued china pretty boys interest

"i mean, sure, i could do with some revision too. tell them to meet me at the library after school"

and so jeno walked away with a smug smirk, victorious

and when jeno told you he had agreed later in potions, you were yet you werent surprised

so of you trotted after last period, kinda nervous because youre about to be in the literal breathing proximity of renjun

like obviously youve talked to him before but this time it was just you and him

alone

no get those thoughts out of your head

n e ways u perv

renjun sat at the back table, textbooks and notebooks with his neat writing in both chinese and korean all over the pages

smart boi part 2

so seeing him not looking at you

attention whore

wow why am i so mean today

you sat down and cleared your throat, placing your blank notebooks on the table so the boy wouldnt get suspicious

you had to pray to whatever gods were listening for your cheeks not to flare up the colour of the strawberries you had for breakfast

healthy girl™️

and the gods apparently answered your prayers

because as soon as renjun looked up and into your eyes you swore you were too distracted for your blood cells to even think about moving towards your face

and renjun nearly had a heart attack (by aoa)

poor boy

jeno had NOT told him that he would be tutoring you

he was going to be choked later

"sorry im late"

renjun was nearly offended that you would even apologise to him for being late by

2 minutes and 48 seconds

"no no its okay i havent been here long"

that was a lie he had study period last and has been sat in the same goddamn chair for an hour already but your presence made his ass cheeks ache less

so he started teaching you, but ???

you seemed to fully grasp the concepts

confused boi

excuse me ma’am/sir/señor/señorita whatever you prefer to go by-

you need to brush up on your acting skills dude

appalling smh your drama teacher back from your muggle school would be completely distraught

so for the next hour renjun ‘tutored’ you

things you already knew but this was a dream-

and actually he was a funny guy

he was also muggle born, so you could both relate over things you experienced as a kid

this lead to a raging debate over dora the explorer

that bitch was shaded in said debate, fully annihilated

hola soy dora your asshole

but,, it was fun. because jeno was pureblood and grew up knowing about all his magicky stuff so he was kinda boring sometimes

no tea no shade

but you ended the session with smiles on both your faces, cheeks literally aching with how hard youd been laughing and smiling

so lads

the next day at breakfast renjun was all happy, plonking himself next to mark at the gryffindor table because

man does not give a SHIT about the looks he was getting. he is huang renjun.

"why are you so smiley this morning? and why didn’t you come to my common room last night"

the gryffindor common room was the dreamie hang out

no one dared tell THE mark lee to go somewhere else with his friends

"sorry, last night i was tutoring y/n in charms" smiley boy still

mark seagull eyebrows: activated

excuse him?? charms?? you?? the one who got an outstanding in your report card??

something smells fishy here

"renjun... y/n got an outstanding on her charms"

eunji who had magically appeared next to mark basically said what he was just thinking

confused boi part ??

"wait what?"

but later on he didnt question you about it

he silently observed you

he told himself that anyway

quite honestly if you were spending time with him he was not about to complain

he was staring at you, simply put

my leng bby (thats you, youre my leng bby)

so for the next 2 weeks every day after school you would meet up to ‘catch up’ on your charms

that being said it literally always, every time, ended up with you two talking about something unrelated

like the 5th day you had a conversation about which series of power rangers was better

"SPD, obviously"

AM I THAT OLD?? on god i hate it here

"no, y/n, we all know that dino force is better"

i agree with y/n on this one pal

on the 7th day you talked about muggle sports that you both enjoyed

"i played a lot of cricket"

"cricket? okay tory"

"i am NOT a tory"

on the last day when you should have been, you know, LEARNING

you were having a lovely old chinwag about the x factor

"simon cowell is a king"

"i agree"

legend behaviour if you ask me

wait does chinwag exist in other countries??? translation: chat

so of course the exams came up

but you were dreading them for a different reason

this meant the end of tutoring with renjun

this was super bittersweet, you wanted to spend more time with eachother

you literally could it wasn’t that deep both of you are so dumb smh aint nothing stopping you

jeno agrees with me too, mans pulling out his hair still as you had somehow not gotten together yet

it was like watching snails race, incredibly frustrating but you know that there is the finish line somwhere over the horizon

so you took your exams and both of you passed with flying colours, obviously

smart kids

and you ran right to renjun to celebrate

seeing as he had

not really helped you but you thought that he thought he helped you

oh no honey he knew that you didnt need help

but he didnt know whether to confront you about it?

rip your guilty conscience

so after a long discussion with mark, our china boy decided to ask why the heck you wanted his help when you were absolutely fully capable

unlike mark

and when you saw him approach you first in the halls your heart went

NYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

that was the sound of a fast motorbike

"hi y/n"

‘damn renjun, couldnt have thought of anything better than that?’

"uhh hi renjun"

awkward silence by stray kids

"i just wanted to know why you asked for my help"

okay where is the nearest shovel and what is the most efficient way to dig a large hole-

as if renjun sensed your panic radiating off you in waves

which he did

"not that it was an issue! i enjoyed spending time with you, it was just, you didnt really need help"

he was a pure boy

so you puffed your cheeks and decided to just come clean

somewhere, jeno felt his senses tingling

"genuinely i just wanted to spend some time with you because i really like you"

renjun froze and wanted to smack his head into a wall

bruh

you noticed his expression and panicked yet again

stop panicking man its okay i gotchu

"it was jenos idea"

blame jeno is always a fool-proof plan b

unless you get pregnant, that would not be a good idea

so i guess its not fool proof

BUT I DIGRESS

renjun face palms and groans

"youre kidding me! all this time we wasted doing boringass charms work when we couldve gone on dates"

confusion™️

but?? you felt hopeful??

"i dont think im on the same wavelength"

"i like you too dumbass"

oH so YOURE the dumbass??

yes, yes you are renjun is best boi, accept the L which is really a W bc renjun likes you back

jeno who had found his way to you, listening from around the corner sighed in happiness

"fucking finally!!"

#nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #mark #mark lee #nct hogwarts au #renjun #huang renjun #hufflepuff reader #OWLs #just two dudes deadass pining after eachother

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wizardessheart-sideb · 4 years ago

Photo

Image ID: A chapter image done in the style of Wizardess Heart. A large, off-white imagine with a guy on it. He’s wearing a dark gray uniform. There’s a lavender bar over him that reads “Tsukasa Kuze.” The rest of the text reads “Main Story” and “Chapter 1: A Chance Meeting” /End ID]

Summary: I've been chosen as a provisional student for the famous Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy! But as the Trial period goes on, I'm hit with too much at one time: trying to catch up with the prodigy students of the Night Class and becoming buddies with the quiet and kind Tsukasa Kuze. Tsukasa is wonderful, but as his health takes a turn for the worse, I have to find a way to make him well again.

The sun was starting to set as the train pulled into Gedonelune Station. I was ready at the doors, things gathered together and I was practically vibrating. Once the doors opened, I’d enter Gedonelune Town. Just to think, the moment I’d been waiting for for years was finally almost here!

“Aren’t you eager?” The Acceptance Letter commented snidely as he floated over to me. He’d been like this entire trip. I tried to ignore his sour demeanor.

“Of course I am! This is the beginning of something amazing!” I replied.

“You mean it could be. You’re still not an official student,” he pointed out. Take deep breaths, just try to ignore his jabs. But that was easier said than done.

“So? Why should I let that bring down my mood? This is still an awesome experience!” I did my best not to sound angry. He was probably one of those idiots who thought showing emotion in arguments meant you were invalid. He just sighed.

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” he said. For a moment, I thought I’d finally won. But then he spoke up. “But you better get your head out of the clouds. If you don’t get serious, you’ll never make it here.”

“That’s not fair. Just because I’m excited means I’m not serious? How in the world are those related to each other?” I retorted.

“Ugh, you know what I mean.”

I bit my tongue. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was thinking I was being immature. How many times in my life had I heard that my enthusiasm and happiness was immature and that alone meant I didn’t deserve respect? Enough times to know the Acceptance Letter would just scoff and say that pessimism and being a jerk makes you more “adult” and worthy of respect. A terrible outlook on life, but whatever.

The train came to a stop and as soon as the doors opened, I flew onto the platform and into town. The pastel pink and orange sunset became more and more vivid as the sun made its daily plunge into darkness. Little by little, the streetlamps and windows of the town started to light up, glittering like the stars back in home in Reitz.

The town was so busy, even though it was getting late. It was so unlike Reitz, where things started closing up at five or six in the evening. I found a small bench to sit on, waiting for one of the prefects to come pick me up.

“What do the prefects look like? What should I be looking for?” I asked him.

“I don’t know what the other one looks like, but the one that usually comes to get students has short black hair and green eyes. He’s fairly tall, if I remember correctly,” the Acceptance Letter told me.

“Okay! I’ll keep my eyes peeled for him.”

“It’s strange, though…” The Acceptance Letter started to speak, but then trailed off. That’s not exactly something I wanna hear, I thought.

“What?”

“Usually, Nox is always here to greet the students. He’s never been late once,” he told me. That was a bit concerning, but I quickly reminded myself that I shouldn’t assume the worst right off the bat.

“Isn’t the campus far from town? He could’ve been held up,” I suggested.

“Potentially. Hopefully he’ll be here soon.”

That didn’t really inspire any optimism in me, but what else could I do? Every time I saw someone vaguely matching Mr. Letter’s description, I’d perk up, but every time they’d walk away. The minutes turned into hours. We waited and waited and there was no sign of Prefect Nox. I kept a constant look out for him, but as the night dragged on and the sunset was replaced with a star-filled sky, there was no sign of the prefect.

“Should… um…” I trailed off. How can I even contact him? It’s not like I have a Magic Phone or something… I fell silent, unsure of what to do. The crowds were slowly thinning out and just when I was about to suggest we head on by ourselves, a Magic Note flew into view and landed neatly in my lap. “Oh…”

I quickly unfolded and read it. It was an apology from Prefect Nox and Prefect Rex, telling me they were tied up on campus and couldn’t come get me. They said the Acceptance Letter would be able to bring me to campus in there stead. I fought back a sigh. To say I was irritated was an understatement. I really wish they’d sent this out earlier. I could’ve been settling in by now… From my side, the Acceptance Letter sighed.

“That’s really a shame. But I suppose I can lead you back myself,” he said. You… “suppose?”

“Can we go get some food first? I’m starving.”

“No! We can’t take any detours. We need to get to campus immediately!”

“But we’ve been sitting here for hours and I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.”

“You can eat once we get to campus. Your side of campus has a cafe that never closes.”

My side of campus…

The Night Class.

A secret student body of the Gedonelune Royal Magic Academy that studied elemental dark magic. I don’t know why I’d been chosen to be a part of it, but here I was. My dark magic was basically non-existent; Gedonelune outlawed all dark magic centuries ago. There were some movements to try and end the ban on elemental dark magic, but so far, they were just movements.

The Acceptance Letter trudged ahead, leaving me behind. I gathered up my things and followed after him. Despite it getting late, lots of shops were still open and the smells wafting onto the street from cafes was intoxicating. The sharp ache in my stomach reminded me how long ago it’d be since I ate. Why was he so dead-set on me not eating? Did he want me to starve?

“Are you sure I can’t just pop into a cafe and get something to go?” I asked, hopefully.

“No. We need to get to campus.” I fought back a pout.

“It’s easy for you to say that when you don’t need food. My last meal was ten hours ago,” I pointed out.

“Then you should’ve packed snacks,” he replied sourly.

“You showed up to my house and gave me an hour to pack. Of course I didn’t grab food.”

“It’s not my problem you didn’t pack food.”

I’d get better results talking to a wall. The urge to tear into him was strong, but I bit back my words. It wouldn’t do me any good to fight with him. It’d just make our trek to the castle awkward and no doubt I’d be in a worse mood than I already was in. Also I wasn’t sure if physically tearing him would count as murder.

“Fine. Let’s go, then.” If I could breeze past him, I would. I just hoped this trek wouldn’t take too long. My stomach kept growling the longer we walked. And to my dismay, the amount of shops slowly dwindled until we reached what looked like a small boathouse. Beyond it, dark waters spread over the land and at the end, the towering castle loomed on top of a hill. My heart raced at the sight.

“Will we be riding a boat to campus?”

“At this hour? Good heavens, no! We’ll be taking the bridge route. Come along.” He made a sharp turn, walking down a path that went along the lake. My soul shriveled up.

We walked and walked and walked and walked. We traveled on the outskirts of a forest, down a long bridge and through the face gate, up too many flights of stairs, and when I thought we were done with stairs, there were even more. The bottoms of my feet were aching and my legs were nothing more than jelly when we reached a mausoleum. I didn’t care if the Acceptance Letter was just going to kill me and bury me here; I wanted to rest.

“This is the entrance to the Night Class. There’s only one entrance to your part of campus, so remember that you need to go through the casket with the name ‘Robin Geralta’ on it,” the Acceptance Letter instructed me.

“Robin Geralta? Who’s she?” I asked.

“She was a Night Class student like yourself. She was Prefect last year.” Hm. Not sure if I liked that past tense.

“‘Was?’”

“She got pregnant in the middle of last semester and took a leave to have the baby. She’s alive, so I don’t know why they put her name there,” he said.

That’s a little too morbid for my tastes. But I’m glad she’s alive and well. The mausoleum was surprisingly well lit and sure enough, on a stone slab there was Robin’s name, crudely chiseled into the stone. That didn’t help me figure out if it was a jab or an honor, but I wanted to believe this was done with good intentions (just with bad craftsmanship).

“Well?” I flinched as the Acceptance Letter spoke sharply. “Go ahead and lift the lid up!” So demanding… Although my body protested, I leaned down and lifted the slab up. Green light and a light fog came out from the darkness; I could barely make out the stairs. The Acceptance Letter immediately floated in, going down the stairs. Great. More stairs. I groaned and followed.

Thankfully, this staircase wasn’t too long. It felt like we reached the bottom landing after only a few steps. The area, again, had more light that I expected. There were fake windows with moonlight pouring in and wrought iron chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. This must be campus, then. Even with the lighting, it’s a lot more dreary than I imagined it would be.

“What are you doing here?!”

I turned to the demanding voice. A handsome, slender man with black hair was quickly approaching us, robes flowing behind him.

“Nox, this is the new student,” the Acceptance Letter told him. Nox’s demeanor immediately changed from anger to surprise.

“The new student?” Nox asked, blinking. His face fell. “I’m sorry we couldn’t come get you. I, uh, I’ll walk you to the dorms.” He motioned for me to follow him and I quickly fell into step with him.

“What’s with the face? You look terrible,” the Acceptance Letter told him. So, he’s rude to everyone. I don’t know if that makes me relieved or sad…

“We’re actually in the middle of an investigation and this part of campus is locked down,” Nox explained. Investigation? A lock down? What did that mean? “Let me get you to the dorms and I’ll come by later tonight to give you a real orientation.” Nox grabbed my arm and started pulling me along down the hallway in front of us. The Acceptance Letter just sighed and made a home in my bag.

“This is the end of the line for me. Good luck on your Trial,” the Acceptance Letter said. “You’ll need it.” My fist clenched, but I stayed quiet. Was that little jab necessary? I hated to think it, but good riddance.

“Did he give you a lot of trouble?” Nox asked me.

“Oh no, not at all!” A lie, but sometimes, a little white lie is sweeter than the truth. Nox smirked at me.

“You don’t have to lie. We all know the Acceptance Letter is a jerk. I was just hoping he wasn’t too bad to you.”

“He’s just, um, a little intense…” I replied. Nox just laughed. We stepped up to a stone arch with gray gauze dangling down from it

“That’s one way to put it,” he said. “By the way, this is the only entrance to the dorms.” He didn’t hesitate to pull me in. In a second, we were outside in a forest. Trees surrounded us and there was some kind of black fog dancing among the trees. Nox lead me through a gate and in front of us was an impressive building. “This is the dorm. To get inside the building and your room, just tap your wand to the door handle.”

The foyer was strange. Dark wood and dark furniture was everywhere, but the chandelier shone brilliantly. It felt dark, but more in atmosphere than in lighting. I couldn’t say I was used to this. Most of the buildings in Reitz were definitely not decorated like this. Well, maybe around Halloween some where, but this wasn’t normal to me at all.

“This floor has the common room, a game room, mine and Rex’s suite, the spa, and an infirmary,” Nox informed me.

“Spa?!”

“It’s nothing fancy,” he said nonchalantly, as if he was talking about a vending machine and not a spa. “But it’s nice after a long week.” No, it’s definitely fancy to have a spa in your dorms… Although part of me wondered if maybe this was just a private school thing. Maybe all private schools had fancy things like this. As Nox pulled me towards the elevator, a door to our left opened and a young man, sickly pale and purple hair framing his face, walked out.

“Hello!” I said cheerfully.

“Hi there.” He gave me a kind smile. Warmth like sunshine radiated from him. I couldn’t help but give him a smile back.

“I guess you’re the new transfer student?” he mused.

“I am! Wait, how did you know that?!”

“Prefect Nox told us yesterday we’d be getting a new student and to behave ourselves. Uh, I mean, told us just to give us the heads up.” He grimaced as Prefect Nox gave him an exasperated looked. I just giggled. He seemed really nice! And man, what a relief that was. Part of me was worried everyone was going to be like the Acceptance Letter. But Nox and this guy seemed genuinely nice.

“Pfft, I didn’t hear that bit about behaving,” I told him.

“Haha, thank goodness,” he laughed. I gave him my name as I stuck my hand out for him. He shook it gently, his skin soft against mine.

“I’m Tsukasa Kuze,” he introduced himself.

“Tsukasa, how are you feeling? You scared us…” Nox asked him. The smile from Tsukasa’s face disappeared immediately.

“I’m sorry about that. But I’m feeling fine. I can go back to class now.” The what I was sure was supposed to be reassuring smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes. Nox just frowned at him.

“No, you can’t. Another incident happened and class is canceled for the rest of the day,” he said. Tsukasa’s face fell, but he nodded.

“That’s understandable,” Tsukasa replied.

“Tell you what, can you do me a favor?” Nox asked. “Can you take our new transfer student to their room for me? I really need to get back to campus.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Tsukasa nodded. Nox smiled, relieved.

“I owe you one. They’re in Isabelle’s suite in the room between hers and Aika’s.”

“Okay, understood.” Nox turned to me.

“I’ll come back in a few hours and give you your orientation, all right? Welcome to the Academy, by the way.” And without another word, he quickly left. Tsukasa sighed, shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

“He’s usually not this frazzled. He’s just stressed,” he said. What happened to make him so frazzled, though? The memory of his anger when he first saw me popped up in my mind’s eye. He didn’t look ready to kill, but it looked like he wasn’t that far off from it.

“I see. I wonder what happened to make him like this.”

“I don’t know. But we’ve been having a lot of weird things happen on campus this semester.” He sighed before glancing down towards my feet. “Here, let me help you.” He reached for my suitcase and picked it up. I quickly tried to grab it from him.

“You don’t have to carry my stuff!”

“You have both hands full. It’s fine.” He gave me a warm smile and somehow, I felt unwilling to argue with him. I trailed after him, going into the elevator and riding up to my floor.

“So… Um… What year are you?” I asked.

“I’m an Unus student. What about you?”

“Me too!”

“Great! We’re classmates then.” The idea of having Tsukasa in the same class as me was calming. I wouldn’t be in a class full of strangers. I mean, it would mostly be strangers, but I had at least one friendly face to look to.

The doors to the dorm suites were propped open with everything from books to bricks that looked like they were taken from school buildings to platform clogs. Tsukasa turned into one and I quickly memorized the number as I stepped inside. There was a door to our left, to our right, and three in front of us. All the doors except the one in the middle were open and I could hear voices and music coming from the dorm room to my right.

I took out my wand and tapped the knob like Nox instructed me. It opened immediately and I went inside. The room was fairly spacious and there was only one bed. Thank goodness. I have the room all to myself.

“Oh, you have a single too,” Tsukasa commented, placing my suitcase down by my dresser.

“You don’t have a roommate either?”

“Well, yes, but my room is set up for two people. My brother sleeps over on the weekends, so it’s like I have a roommate, but just for a couple of days. It’s not that bad.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah. He’s a Day Class student though, so we only see each other on the weekends.”

“That sucks.” I couldn’t imagine having a sibling and then getting separated from them like this. Although I think the siblings back home in Reitz would disagree with me.

“It sort of do- Well, it’s not too bad. I still see him a lot.” He smiled, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Tsukasa? What’re you doing here?” A girl’s voice suddenly filled the room. I looked over and a girl my age stood in the doorway of my room. But as soon as our eyes locked, she hurried in. “Oh my gosh, the transfer student is here?! Welcome to the Night Class! I’m Aika, I’m in the room to the right!” Just a few steps behind her was an incredibly tall guy with long, pinkish-purple hair.

“I think it’s technically to the left,” he said. “At least that’s how it is when you walk into the suite.”

“Ugh, you know I’m not good with directions, Dorian!” Aika complained. He laughed and threw his arm around her shoulders. I had to wonder if they were friends or dating. There was a sigh by the door.

“Oh boy. Here we go again.” A girl with long purple curls scampered into the room, a platter of cupcakes in her hands. I tried not to stare at them. It’d been so long since I ate… I prayed my stomach wouldn’t make any noise. The curly-haired girl grimaced.

“I’m sorry about them. They do this a lot. I’m Isabelle, I’m in the room over there,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“It’s nice to meet you guys!” I said before introducing myself.

“Nice to meet you too!” Isabelle said. “Here, I made these for you this evening.”

“Thank you!” Isabelle was an angel on earth, that much I knew. I took the platter and put it on my dresser. Maybe I should’ve showed some more restraint, but I immediately tore into a cupcake. Dorian snatched one off the plate, taking a bite before giving it to Aika.

“You can have one too if you like, Tsukasa,” Isabelle told him.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go ahead!”

“Thank you.” Tsukasa instantly cheered up. He grabbed one and started nibbling on it. I was already on my second one.

“These are really good, Isabelle,” I told her. She beamed.

“Thanks! I’m glad to hear it. I was worried my cooking was a little rusty,” she laughed.

“They’re right. These are perfect,” Tsukasa said as he joined my side.

“Yeah, they’re okay,” Dorian said. He took Aika’s cupcake out of her hands and took another bite. She gave him an indignant look.

“Good!” Isabelle said. She smiled and leaned against the wall next to Dorian. Next to him, it was evident how short she was. Although Dorian looked unnaturally tall. I wonder just how tall he is.

“I’m 6’9 and Isabelle is 4’1,” Dorian spoke up suddenly. “I can read minds.”

“What?!” He can read minds?! No, that has to be a joke, right? But as I stared at him, he looked so serious. Aika rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. He just laughed.

“Dorian, stop messing with them. He just make a lucky guess. You’re not the first to stare like that,” she told him. “He’s too all and since we’re short in this household, he just looks even taller.”

“I didn’t realize you were that tall,” Tsukasa frowned.

“Height isn’t everything,” I quickly said. Immediately, Tsukasa’s mood brightened a bit.

“I actually agree,” Dorian commented. “I prefer shorter partners and they’re easy to find for me.”

“Oh, please, like you have a preference at all,” Aika teased him. He just gave her a teasing smile back

“You’re my preference,” he replied.

“Oh my God, shut UP. You’re so embarrassing!” she cried. Her face was bright red and she tried to hide it in her hands. Aw, that’s kind of cute. I’d like someone to be cute with.

“I like tall women, but really, I don’t care in the end. As long as you’re not a guy, my little bisexual heart is happy,” Isabelle commented, clearly trying not to laugh at Aika. She shifted her weight and looked off into space.

“You know, we’re a pretty diverse campus now that I think about it. We have students of every size, half of us are foreign exchange students, and we’ve got enough queer students to make a club for it,” she said.

“It’s a shame we can’t flaunt any of that.” Again, Tsukasa’s shoulders fell a little.

“Yeah. It’d be nice to show off how diverse we are. But that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Not with the whole secrecy thing,” I said.

“It’s not so bad. We’re safe here,” Aika pointed out. I wanted to ask why that mattered: after all, this was a school, of course it should be safe! But Tsukasa beat me to the punch, quickly speaking up.

“Yes, but it’s stifling, don’t you think? We can’t tell anyone about our accomplishments. We just have to stay silent and pretend we’re all self-taught prodigies once we graduate,” he argued.

“Frankly, I don’t care if we’re stifled,” Isabelle said with a shrug. “If we’re safe, that’s all that really matters to me. I don’t care if I can’t put this on job applications. I’m safe here and I don’t need anything else.” Tsukasa’s lips were pressed into a fine line and everyone could see he was deciding whether or not to fight back even more.

“I guess when you put it that way…” Tsukasa still looked like he wasn’t convinced, though. Dorian gave him a sympathetic look.

“You’ll understand it when you’re older. There’s nothing better than feeling safe and being secure,” he said. The corners of Tsukasa’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing. Although I was sure Dorian wasn’t trying to be patronizing, admittedly it did come off like that. An uncomfortable silence fell in my room. Isabelle cleared her throat after a few seconds.

“Well, uh, I’m sure our new transfer student has a lot of unpacking to do. We’ll call you in for dinner once Dorian’s done with it,” Isabelle announced.

“Yeah, I should get started on dinner. You’re welcome to join us, Tsukasa,” Dorian said.

“Thank you, but I’m full from the cupcake,” Tsukasa said politely.

“Oh well. I guess more for us,” Aika shrugged. She followed after Dorian, the two leaving the room. Isabelle gave me a little wave before heading out. Tsukasa just looked after them, shoulders slumping a bit. I gently grabbed his shoulder.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine,” he replied. Again, another smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Um, I’ll leave you be. You’ve probably got a lot of work to do.”

“Y-Yeah, I guess so…” It’s not like I could beg him to stay and he was right: I had a lot of stuff to unpack.

“I’ll see you later,” he said.

“Yeah! See you later.” Tsukasa nodded and turned around, leaving my dorm room. Well, that certainly happened. I tried to push the argument from my mind as I started to unpack. Right now, I just needed to focus on my studies and becoming an official student. If there were arguments, I just needed to ignore them. Drama would only distract me. But the look of quiet anger on Tsukasa’s face wouldn’t leave my mind.

#tsukasa kuze #wizardess heart #wizardess heart fanroute #tsukasa kuze: kind spirit

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winchester-fantasies · 5 years ago

Text

Until My Dying Breath

Summary: The Mark has changed Dean and taken its toll on him and your relationship. Will you ever come back to him?

Word Count: 2841

Warnings: angst, swearing, smut, fluff

Pairing: MOC!Dean x Reader

Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist

The first thing he noticed through the haze of sleep was the quiet. It was deafening. He rolled over, his hand reaching to the other side of the bed - her side. It was cold and empty.

He jerked out of bed and fumbled for the lamp. The room was flooded with light, and he squinted against it, silently cursing as his eyes struggled to adjust. He glanced around the room desperately, trying to find something, anything to indicate she was still there.

Finding nothing, he jumped out of bed and practically ran down the hall, silently praying she’d be sitting in the library doing research as she so often did. She always said 2:00 a.m. was her hour of inspiration.

Panic took over when he found the library dark and empty. He hurried to the kitchen, flipping on the light and searching wildly even though he already knew she wasn’t there.

His eyes fell to the counter, settling on a piece of paper. He picked it up with trembling hands. It was a note - a simple one: “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, pounding his fist on the counter. He swung around, jerking pots and pans from the hooks over the island and throwing them against the wall, each one making a dent. He shoved bowls, plates, and cups off the metal shelves, the ceramic shattering on the concrete floor.

He leaned heavily against the island, his breathing labored. His heart beat hard as rage pumped through his veins. He glanced down to the Mark on his arm, angry and red. He wished he could take his knife and carve it out of his skin. But this godforsaken Mark wouldn’t let him.

He had warned her it would change him. She reassured him she could take it. He told her to leave. She had stayed. He promised he’d never hurt her. She had believed him. Now she was gone.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You okay?”

“She’s gone,” he choked out.

“What? Why?” Sam asked incredulously.

Dean shoved the note into his brother’s hand. Sam’s eyes roved the paper, his lips silently mouthing the words. He frowned and turned it over. Finding nothing on the other side, he looked back to Dean, confusion written on his face. “What is this about?” he asked.

“What do you think, Sammy?” Dean barked, motioning to his arm.

“The Mark,” Sam stated as if it weren’t already blaringly obvious.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair roughly. “Fuck, I knew this would happen,” he lamented gruffly.

“What exactly did happen?” Sam asked, still not entirely following.

“I…. Fuck, Sam! I hurt her!” Dean shouted.

Sam’s eyes darkened. “How?” he asked, his voice low.

“I…we were in the library. She…she said something that really pissed me off.” He let out an angry chuckle. “I can’t even remember what she said. Shows just how petty I was being.”

His face hardened. “I hit her, Sam. I hit her hard. She was bleeding. And crying. I…I couldn’t stand to see her cry so I left her alone. I didn’t even try to apologize or see if she was alright.” He looked to Sam, his eyes wide with anguish. “What kind of boyfriend am I, Sam, that I don’t even check to see if my girl is okay?”

“Not a very good one,” Sam said. Dean flinched at his brother’s brashness, but he didn’t argue. He knew Sam was right.

Dean groaned as he leaned against the island again, his forehead resting on the cold metal surface. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without her, Sam,” he said in bewilderment.

“Just give her a few days. She might just need some time to cool off,” Sam said. Sam was always the peacemaker, and the one who saw the good in every situation. Normally Dean found comfort in his brother’s encouragement. But this time Dean found little solace in his brother’s words.

Dean shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s too late.”

**********

Two weeks. Two long, agonizing weeks. That’s how long she’d been gone. Sam had tried to track her phone, and they had even used Bobby’s old tracking spell. When neither of those worked, they turned to Cas. But even that turned up nothing. It didn’t surprise him that she knew every move in the book. Dean had taught her well.

He leaned back against Baby’s hood, her cold metal matching the iciness in his heart. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long and generous gulp. The whiskey strung on the way down, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

He threw the bottle to the ground, and the glass shattered against the rocks that sat only a few feet away. He looked around him, at the wide open field before him, the forest that sat on either side of him, the cloudless sky and the moon that hung low. This was where they had first consummated their love, where they both realized the passing brushes and lingering glances were more than casual flirting, more than just friends.

He took out another bottle and chugged. His head was buzzing and things were starting to get a little hazy, but it didn’t matter how much he tried to drown himself in alcohol. Nothing seemed to numb the pain.

He thought he had loved Cassie and Lisa. He really did. But nothing could have prepared him for this. This was on a whole ‘nother level, one so deep he was finding it hard to swim or make sense of anything. She was his life preserver, and the one light that shone in the shit show that was his life. But without her, he didn’t know if he really wanted to live.

He took out his phone and fumbled with the screen. He pulled up her name, and his heart seized up when he saw her caller ID. She was so beautiful. She was always so insecure and critical of herself, and no matter how many times he tried to convince her otherwise, she never fully believed him. But she would always be the most beautiful and precious treasure to him.

His fingers hovered over the call button. Should he? Sam would probably tell him no. That she needed space and that he’d only be complicating things. Well, to hell with space!

He hit the button and raised the phone to his ear with trembling hands. It rang one…two…three times. He began to lose his nerve. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Just when he was about to give up there was a click on the other line.

“Hello?” she said, and his breath hitched. Her words were unceremonious and monotone, but her voice was about the prettiest sound he’d ever heard. He wasn’t even sure what to compare it to. Maybe like that symphony she’d shown him that one time or maybe like the gentle rain that fell around them when they had shared their first kiss.

He must have remained silent too long because she sighed heavily. “Dean, I’m hanging up.”

“No, no, please!” he begged. At any other time he would have kicked himself for sounding so needy, but right now he didn’t give a damn how he sounded. He needed her to know how lost he was without her.

Silence met his plea, and his stomach dropped. Had she hung up anyway? “(Y/N)?” he whispered, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

“What do you want?” she asked bluntly, and relief washed over him.

“I…I don’t know,” he said.

“Then there’s no reason to stay on the line,” she stated.

“Wait!” he demanded, his voice ringing out in the open air. “Can…can we talk?”

She didn’t answer, and he was almost certain she never would. But then she sighed. “Not on the phone,” she said. “Meet me at that little coffee shop outside of town. The one with our favorite pie.” His heart leapt at her use of the word ‘our.’

“The place where we had our first date,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and he could have sworn her voice quivered just a little. “Be there at 10:00 tomorrow,” she said quickly before hanging up.

**********

He walked into the coffee shop, requesting the table near the back. He ordered coffee before he settled back in his chair. She hadn’t arrived yet, and he kept bouncing his leg as he waited impatiently.

He took a sip of coffee and pulled out his phone, opening the file Sam had sent him. Maybe if he read up about their new case, he wouldn’t be such a basket case when she finally did arrive.

He was two pages in when the bell over the coffee shop door tinkled. He looked up, and his heart nearly stopped. There she was. Just as beautiful and radiant as ever.

Her eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him. He sent her a half-hearted smile, but she didn’t return it, instead casting her gaze to the floor. She walked over to the table, her shoulders slumped. Anguish and self-loathing filled his mind as he realized he was the cause. He was the reason she was so broken.

“Hey,” he whispered as she settled down across from him. She looked up at him. Her eyes were red and bloodshot like she’d been crying too much, and if the dark circles under them were any indication, she hadn’t slept in days.

“Hi,” she rasped. Her eyes were down again. She played with the strings on her hoodie absentmindedly, feigning interest in the slightly worn out tabletop.

“You hungry?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Not really,” she said, but he doubted it was true. Her face looked a bit thinner, like she hadn’t eaten properly since she’d left. She probably hadn’t. She was always so selfless. Always putting him and Sam first, forgetting about herself and her own needs. He’d always have to remind her to eat and drink. But he didn’t press her this time. He’d make sure she was taken care of right after they took care of the elephant in the room.

“I’m really sorry about the other night,” he said, wasting no time in getting right to the point. She appreciated transparency and despised when people beat around the bush.

She looked up at him again. His eyes searched hers, but her face was unreadable. “Me, too,” she breathed.

He frowned. “There’s no reason for you to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, but she quickly swiped it away, almost as if she didn’t have the right to feel hurt. “I made you upset. I promised I’d be there for you; help you through this. I just wanted to be your comfort, Dean. But I only made things worse for you.”

His heart nearly broke that she felt so responsible for what happened. She looked down again, but he reached across and took her hand. She didn’t hold it, but she didn’t pull away.

He squeezed her hand gently. “Look at me, (Y/N),” he whispered. He swallowed past the lump in her throat when her eyes met his once more, hurt swimming in their (Y/E/C) depths.

He forced a smile. “Listen to me, and listen good. None of what’s happened the last few months or the other night was your fault. None of it,” he emphasized. “It’s all me. It’s all because of this god-damned Mark!” he spat out. She flinched at his tone and quickly withdrew her hand from his, shrinking back into the chair.

Where was the badass and fiery hunter he knew? Wherever she was, this wasn’t her.

“I know the Mark hasn’t taken a toll just on me, but on you, too,” he said quietly. “But, baby, I don’t want us to give up. I want us to keep fighting this, and fighting for each other. I don’t want you to give up on me,” he said desperately.

Her eyes shot up to meet his, piercing his very depths. He caught a glimpse of the fighter he loved so much as her eyes flashed. “I’ve never given up on you, Dean!” she stated, her voice cracking from the exertion of trying to maintain control of her emotions. “And I’m not about to give up now!”

“But, Dean,” she said, sobering. “I can’t stay with you if you’re only going to keep hurting me.”

He looked to the table. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t promise he’d never hurt her again. He placed his hand on his forearm, heat from the Mark penetrating his heavy jacket and flannel. He couldn’t promise anything when this thing dictated his every emotion.

“I can’t promise that,” he breathed. She nodded, her eyes welling with tears that she tried hopelessly to hold back. “But I promise I’ll try,” he said, desperate to give her something to hold on to.

“Everyday is a battle,” he continued. “But it’s one I’m willing to fight if it means I’ll have you by my side. With you, everything makes sense. You’re the missing piece that keeps everything in alignment. You’re the only thing that makes sense to me anymore, (Y/N). And without you, I’m not sure that even the Mark could keep me alive.”

“Dean,” she said, her voice trembling. “To try is all I ask.” She reached across the table and took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. And for the first time since she’d walked inside, he saw her smile.

**********

Before either of them could really register what was happening, they were in a motel room. He had her pressed against the door while he kissed her needily. If felt like months since he’d seen her even though it had only been weeks, and his hunger for her was insatiable.

Her hands wound around his neck as his fingers fumbled with the button on her jeans. He pushed them and her panties down in one fell swoop, and she quickly stepped out of them, kicking them into the corner.

He placed his knee between her legs, spreading them wide, and she bucked against it, moaning as his jeans made contact with her sensitive clit. He removed his leg, replacing it with his hand. His fingers slid past her swollen bud and dipped inside, coating them with her wetness. She shuddered as his fingers briefly touched her sweet spot, and she gasped when he began to stroke her clit. Within moments she was cumming, his name a prayer on her lips.

She was breathing hard when he captured her lips in his own. Her hand found his throbbing erection, and he bucked into her palm until he was on the precipice of release. “Need to be inside you. Now,” he panted. She nodded and released him. He turned her around and started backing her up towards the bed. But they never made it.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, and her back rubbed roughly against the stained and mildewy carpet as he pounded into her relentlessly. Her walls were a soft cocoon of velvet, and he wondered if someone could die from ecstasy.

His hands found her legs, cupping the underside of her knees and bringing her legs around his waist. The new position afforded him a better angle, and he knew he’d found her sweet spot as she arched her back and moaned, the sound breathy and wanton.

“Almost. There,” she breathed, and he pressed on harder and more ardently. He was determined to show her how much he needed her, how much he loved her.

She came hard, her walls clenching around him, his name a cry of praise on her lips. Her legs shook as he came inside her, his warm seed filling her to the brim.

He fell on top of her, his head coming to rest in the crook of her neck. He whispered a litany of sweet nothings while her hands paved trails over his sweaty back and up his neck, fingers weaving through his hair.

He pulled out once he was limp, and he got up, his legs shaky. He picked her up bridal style, carried her to the bed, and laid her down gently. He placed a soft kiss to her brow before going to the bathroom. He returned with a damp cloth, and he cleaned her up with tender ministrations.

He tossed the cloth into the corner before climbing into bed, pulling the blanket over them both. He snuggled under the covers, pulling her close to him and giving her a loving kiss.

She laid her head on his chest, her fingers brushing his skin while his stroked her hip. His eyes grew heavy, and he was on the verge of sleep when she spoke, her voice quiet but strong. “I’m going to fight, too. For you. For us. Until I can’t fight anymore. Until my dying breath.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction

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my-whumpy-little-heart · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! May I request a tiny drabble in which the whumpee gets whumped in their own house . ( whumper being there is optional) .

Well, anon, you said tiny drabble. It, uh, didn’t exactly work out that way, but I hope you like it anyway 😅 Played around with some new characters I may end up writing more with, but probably not any time soon.

Steven clicked up his windshield wipers to the highest setting, their erratic swiping doing next to nothing to ward off the rain pounding against his beat up old SUV. Visibility was next to none in the dark, rainy night, and wished, not for the first time that week, that he’d gotten that office job just five minutes from his apartment.

He detached a hand from its white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and latched on to his phone instead, dialing his roommate’s number and desperately hoping they’d pick up. One ring passed, then two rings, then…

“Steven?”

“Lou! Hi,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up at the familiar voice.

“Hey, everything going alright? It’s raining cats and dogs out there,” Lou’s voice tipped into a lilting higher range like it always did when they were concerned, and Steven found himself smiling a little more openly. He let his tense shoulders relax a little, and released the chokehold he had on the steering wheel’s flaking leather.

“Tell me about it. It’s really hard to see where I’m going and it’s… I’m just paranoid, I guess,” he laughed, but it was still tight and forced.

“…you want me to stay on the line with you?”

“Yeah,” Steven answered immediately, and cursed himself for how weak he was being. He’d driven in rougher conditions than this so many times before. Lou was supposed to be the one with the trauma and nervousness and he was supposed to be strong and protective, so why did it feel like those roles flip flopped so often?

They made pleasant, slow conversation for almost twenty minutes before Steven finally reached the exit. The worst of it was over now, and his roommate could hear the relief in his voice.

“Finally make it to Cedarview?” they asked.

“Mmhm, I’m probably about ten minutes out now.”

“Good, good, I-” Lou stopped themself abruptly, almost like the phone connection had cut out. Steven thought it really had for a second and checked it quickly, but the flashing screen said his friend was still on the line.

“Um, Lou? You there?” For a few seconds there was no response.

“…Steven, look, I’m…” Their voice was low, any conversational tone stripped down to a near whisper. “I think- shit-!” The last word was a pained squeak that cut off into full silence, and after a few more seconds Steven checked his phone again to find his roommate really was off the line this time.

Maybe their phone had shut down from low power. Maybe cell service went out at the complex again. Maybe they got another call. Maybe their thumb slipped to the red button on accident, and they were about to call back right now. Maybe he should call back first. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

But the last second of the call repeating over and over again in his head kept Steven’s foot heavy on the pedal, speeding at fifty miles per hour down rain slicked suburban streets and guided only by blurred street lights that shone like fallen stars. His hands ached, tight around the steering wheel once again, but he couldn’t bring himself to relax.

He knew he was just going to get home to see Lou finally having found a charging cord to plug in their phone, and then they would laugh at their ignorance and watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail for the third time that week.

But until then, everything was sharpened by adrenaline and smeared by water, all swirling into a world of grayscale almost within his reach. Nothing felt real and he had to battle his own instincts just to stay on the road.

Steven was jittering in his nervousness by the time he reached their apartment complex, and he nearly ripped his keys out of the ignition in his haste. Rain pounded down as soon as he opened the door, soaking him within seconds and never relenting. Lights illuminated puddles and potholes in a reflective glow, their light yellows splashing into dull, crumbling asphalt and that lit his path to the door.

He jammed his ID into the scanner, not waiting for it to unlock before pulling insistently at the door handle. The light finally flashed green, and he nearly tripped over himself when he sprinted across the ground floor and slid to a stop in front of their apartment. Fluttering fingers were already flicking through keys, finding the right one and jamming it into the lock.

But when he wiggled the doorknob in a test, it was already unlocked.

Lou knew he was coming home. So they’d left the door unlocked for him, so he wouldn’t worry.

Lou was always freaking out about security. They didn’t just leave the door unlocked.

Trembling, he stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, careful to lock it behind him. Nothing looked amiss at first.

“Lou? I’m home!” he shouted, a little louder than intended.

As Steven stepped through the hallway to the TV room, he heard crackling and saw a fire burning in their fireplace. It had been chilly outside earlier in the day, but not that cold. Maybe Lou knew he’d need to dry off from the rain when he got home.

“Steven, is that… is that you?” Their voice finally echoed back, wobbling and cracking under a false composure. “I’m… I’m in the- in the bedroom, please-”

Shit. He ran immediately. Lou was having an episode again; he knew he should have tried to call back, his poor roommate had probably been sitting in the bed and crying since he hung up the phone…

He rounded the corner, not even noticing how his wet shoes were leaving footprints on the carpet, and ran in to see Lou doubled over and sobbing silently into the bedsheets.

“Lou, hey, it’s okay: he’s not here,” Steven knelt on the bed beside him, hands hovering over his friend’s shaking body. “You’re in your apartment on our bed, I’m here with you, and we made it out. Can you look at me, Lou?”

Haunted, cloudy eyes turned up at him, lost and confused and numb. He made eye contact, but there was nothing behind them except a quiet, steady stream of tears with no end in sight.

“That’s it, that’s it Lou. You’re real, right here, right now. Can I touch you so you know that?” A small nod, and Steven settled his hand lightly on their shoulder, shaking with repressed sobs. “Thank you. Can you look around and tell me a few things you see?”

They raised their eyes past him, fixed over his shoulder. Blank eyes went wide with terror.

“I see… him. I see him, I- sir…”

“He’s not here, remember? We made a deal so that you’ll be safe here. He’s not your boss anymore, and he can’t control you.” He smoothed a hand over Lou’s cheek, contact that usually chased the hallucinations away, but they didn’t move except to shake their head slightly and stare dimly ahead. “Is there anything else you can see?”

“Sir… sir, please… d-don’t…” Steven’s words had gone in one ear and out the other, straight through the tangled wires of Lou’s brain. He sighed, swallowed nervously, and changed his approach.

“Can you tell me where you see him, Lou? Where is he right now?” They paused, then raised a shaking finger to point where they had been staring, near the bookcase in the corner of their room.

Slowly, Steven turned to face the empty space and prove to Lou that it wasn’t real. His eyes scanned over striped walls until he focused on exactly what they had seen.

And he was staring right down the sharp silver blade of a knife.

“…what?” A whisper of breath came out before his heart stopped, he couldn’t breathe, and he froze under the knife of Ryker Schultz. He stood tall over both of them, looking just the same as he did six months ago. Six months ago when they’d made a deal, a truce, and even then he’d thought it was too late for Lou anyway. They ran, comforted only by the fact they would never see that disgusting man again, and yet here he was.

The tip of the metal came forward and pressed its cool edge against the end of Steven’s nose, a flick and a warm pinprick of flaring pain against his dulled senses.

Steven jerked back at the sensation, then lunged forward with his fist swinging in a furious arc under the knife. A hand cinched around his wrist, the world spun, and he was staring back at Lou, an arm around his neck, terror in his eyes, and a blade pressing into his throat.

“Lou, run! Run, run fucking RUN-!” The arm cinched tight around his windpipe and he choked on a panicked breath as his friend sat completely still on the bed, only moving to sob anew as the knife slid over Steven’s jaw smearing a thin line of blood up his face. His lips trembled, open but unable to draw air. Lou didn’t dare run; they couldn’t defy their employer. Someone in the back of their mind screamed and yelled, ‘former employer!’ and ‘help him!’, but they were too busy following the rules to pay attention.

“Say another word and I slit your throat,” Ryker’s deep voice mumbled in Steven’s ear, stubble scraping over short cropped hair as the chokehold tightened, only releasing when the man in his arms nodded and kicked out desperately for air. He gasped shallowly at the sudden influx of air, adrenaline, and fear nearly forcing him to hyperventilate. Even when he got his breathing under control, he didn’t dare speak.

“Louis,” Ryker said, and Lou’s face snapped up. Obedient. Practiced. Conditioned. Steven felt fury simmering under his fear. “You know why I’m here. Enlighten your friend.”

“Yes, sir…” they said tightly, “I- I’m sorry, this is all my fault St-”

“Did I tell you to apologize?” he cut in, and Lou froze.

“No, you didn’t… sir,” they cast their eyes down in shame. Ryker’s blade tipped up Steven’s chin and sliced quickly along the underside of his chin. He whimpered at the flash of disfomfort before blood started dripping and staining his white dress shirt in red.

“Tell him what you did wrong, or he takes more than just the punishment you’re already due.” He shook the man for emphasis.

“Yessir, I’m sorry, sir. Steven, I’ve been, uh, researching Mr. Schultz, sir, and… breaking into- er, hacking into, um, confidential files. Just to see if there was anyone who took- who’s in my position. I wanted to save them. That… broke the terms of our agreement, but I don’t know how he found out or found us to, um, to carry out the punishment…” they whispered the last words, regret weighing heavily on their shoulders.

“That’s right. While you’re at it, how about you indicate who exactly is taking that punishment?” Shining, watery eyes stared up at Ryker in a silent plea. In response, the knife flashed and pressed into Steven’s shoulder until Lou started to talk again.

“Steven is, um, taking my punishment… and that’s because I can’t- I can’t be trusted to learn this lesson if… if I pass out during it.” At that, Steven cringed. He’d heard of Ryker’s punishments before. Hell, he’d seen some of them in action and their effects, in the short and long term. He only realized he’d started to squirm desperately against the hold on him, but it merely tightened and he was choking all over again.

“Good. Louis, you lead the way. I shouldn’t have to warn you of what happens if you try anything stupid.” He watched with a careful eye as Lou pushed themself up onto shaking legs, and pushed Steven after them. “Hands to yourself and stay quiet,” Ryker reminded him, the blade still pressed against his neck.

They paraded silently out of the bedroom, back down the hall, and all the way out to the fireplace, fire still burning strong inside. Steven was led directly in front of it, and he felt as if the floor had fallen out from under him.

Lou stepped forward to grab a poker that, until now, he hadn’t realized was buried halfway into the coals of the fire. The simple rod glowed a sickening red through the middle, lightening into a pale white at the end that made Steven want to bolt at just the sight of it.

Breaths came quick and heavy with terror, but he couldn’t run. He’d tried running from Ryker before, but he knew now that it only amounted to more trouble in the end. But how was he meant to stand still as his best friend approached with a weapon that could probably send him into shock without even touching his skin?

A harsh kick to the back of his knees sent him reeling, immediately collapsing to the floor with the fireplace mere inches from his face. Frantically, Steven scrambled back but was stopped after a mere foot by Ryker’s weight straddling his legs. His shirt was peeled up from his back, rolled up until it was nearly over his head.

“Louis,” his tormentor ordered, and presumably took the poker from them. For a few seconds, there was no further movement.

“Sir? May I- may I comfort him, please?” Lou asked, a hint of desperation in their voice. They couldn’t stand to watch their friend suffer and do nothing to help. Ryker considered it, tapping the cooler part of the poker against his hand thoughtfully.

“…you may, as long as you watch closely. You must understand this is merciful. I could be taking you back for a job interview right now.” Lou shivered at that, and nodded quickly.

“I understand, sir, thank you.” They spun on their heel and crouched beside Steven, turning his head carefully to the side to face them, and dropped their voice to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, this is gonna hurt a lot and-”

Ryker didn’t wait for Lou to finish talking when he brought the poker down the first time, laying a stripe horizontally across the small of his back. It fell heavily, burning as soon as it touched skin and searing through Steven’s body. He went rigid as he screamed, howling when his vision whited out, and when the poker tore away just seconds later and it felt like he’d ripped away all of his skin with it.

He breathed in high keens, hands coming up to clutch at Lou’s legs, nails digging in for traction. They placed a careful hand on his head, tears in their own eyes as they watched him cry.

“Just relax, please, it hurts more when you’re tense: trust me. It’ll be over soon, I promise…”

Ryker pressed the poker in again, laying a line diagonally across the first one and Steven was screaming and screaming all over again, hands clutching at Lou’s pants like his only lifeline and the rest of his body thrashing mindlessly to escape the burning. When the rod came off this time, the scent of burnt flesh wafted through the room and Lou wanted to pass out at the thought of it.

When the poker burned him a third time, Steven was sure he was dying. Everything went blank except for the steady pulsing of agonyagonyagony suffocating him, and it didn’t stop after the awful rod was lifted.

He wasn’t even sure he felt the next one, or if it was just the residual effects from the last. He couldn’t see anything except for the swirling reds and yellows of fire, blurred beyond recognition.

He was sure he was dying.

Next door, their neighbors shook their heads and filled out a noise complaint.

#whump #whumped at home #is that a suitable tag #ambush #ish #surprise party #that's what this is #definitely #burning #uhmm #knives #cuts #blood #caretaker as whumpee #or steven is usually the caretaker but that's more of subtext #past conditioning #lou wasn't really conditioned but something like it i think

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thecousinsdangereux · 5 years ago

Text

fic preview: over the wide skies up above (and the earth below)

Pairing: Blake/Yang (RWBY)

Playlist: On Spotify

Notes: This is a preview of a thing that I may or may not be something I actually finish post ski!au. Basically, it’s all for @twelveclara who wanted a Greek Gods AU. You’re lucky I adore you, you dumb bitch. I’ll fix this up and write more for you some day. Happy birthday. <3

—

She was picking flowers: roses, crocus, and beautiful violets. Up and down the soft meadow. Iris blossoms too she picked, and hyacinth. And the narcissus, which was grown as a lure for the flower-faced girl by Gaia. All according to the plans of Zeus. She was doing a favor for the one who receives many guests. It was a wondrous thing in its splendor. To look at it gives a sense of holy awe to the immortal gods as well as mortal humans. It has a hundred heads growing from the root up. Its sweet fragrance spread over the wide skies up above. And the earth below smiled back in all its radiance. So too the churning mass of the salty sea

[From the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, translated by Gregory Nagy]

—

They meet on a Sunday morning, on the first day of Winter, under a cloudy and snow-filled sky.

It’s a collision only barely avoided; she swerves, but the white petals still brush against her cheek, sticking out every which way and thus not as easily dodged as the form carrying them (barreling around the corner without any particular concern or hesitation). The juxtaposition hardly stops there, because the resulting stream of expletives feels in direct opposition to what follows it: an apology that — when directed at her — sounds soft and familiar, despite the lingering profanities.

The thought doesn’t make any sense, but she hardly has time to consider its meaning when it first hits her; it’s quickly followed by a scent — floral and strong and overwhelming — that hits just as hard, turns the world over on itself, shifts the seasons, melts the ice around them.

“Shit, sorry! I’ve got so many of these fucking things that I can barely see and I’ve got to get them to the greenhouse in like five minutes and I’m really running late and are you okay?”

The flowers — she can see them more clearly now: long-stemmed and white with a brilliant yellow center ringed in red — obscure most of the woman’s face. But her long blonde hair spills outside of the boundaries of the dozens of stems barely contained to the two large buckets she holds in front of her chest. Blake finds herself briefly distracted again (distracted from a distraction), this time by the looping curls, the different colors of gold that glint among the strands despite the overcast skies. But then the woman shifts, trying to see around the stems, and with the movement, a new wave of the scent hits her and it’s all she can think about again.

“What is that?”

“What’s what?” The woman laughs and finally pokes her head through the flowers. The bright smile that appears is one that Blake cannot differentiate from the first bloom of Spring. “You mean like, the daffodils or — whoa.”

She can’t pinpoint the reason for the change, but something makes the woman’s eyes (the color of the sky at 5:30 am in the middle of June) widen when they first meet Blake’s. The surprise steals her smile, but it returns almost immediately, stronger than before.

“Whoa,” she says again. “Where have you been?”

Blake’s a college freshman — one who got a fake ID at 16 and has been to frat parties and bars and clubs — and so she’s heard the line before (or something like it, ‘all my life’ tacked on at the end), but she’s never heard anyone say it like this woman does. The emphasis is in the wrong spot, the tone out of place, the emotion behind it incomprehensible.

(Stranger than all that, her instantaneous thought — one she only just keeps from escaping her own lips — is waiting for you.)

“I — what?” she says instead.

“It’s the day before Christmas break! I’ve been here all semester and I’ve never seen you before. It’s not that big of a school. So, like, where have you been?”

The girl shifts her cargo to the side — as though to give herself a better view — and the warm leather of her coat, the soft wool around the collar, belong on her frame as much as the dark gold belongs around her neck (a woven scarf, color deeper than her hair).

“Not in the greenhouse,” Blake settles on. “I didn’t know we had one.”

“Yeah, I could have guessed that.”

It comes with a laugh and Blake’s not sure whether to be offended or not, but the woman quickly continues, before Blake can settle on any one expression.

“The Botany program is pretty small. Not too many people other than us visit the far field, let alone the Greenhouse.”

“Botany?” It’s not what she expects, but it feels right.

(Blake’s not sure how she knows what feels right. But she doesn’t question it either.)

“Yeah. Plants are sort of my thing.” The girl lifts one of the buckets as though to prove her point, and Blake is once again reminded.

“Yeah. What are those? They smell — ”

(Perfect. Like something she’s been searching for.)

“Really good right?” She laughs again; a breeze, but one strong enough to bend the trunks of trees. “Yeah, people use it in perfumes all the fucking time. But I think I like the pure version of it best.” Leaning forward, the woman tips the bucket in Blake’s direction, allowing her to get another whiff. “Poet’s Daffodil. Narcissus poeticus, if you’d be into me showing off.”

She’s leaning in, breathing in deep, but her surprise at the name is such that it nearly sends her rocking off balance and crashing face-first into the delicate stems.

“Oh, you are into me showing off.” The woman shifts again, but the flowers can’t obscure the brightness of her grin. “Hold on, let me take some notes for future reference. Is it the Latin, foreign languages in general, or the vast depth of knowledge that does it for you?”

“No, I — ” Blake barely recognizes the laugh that escapes from her own lips. “No, it’s just. I’ve never seen it before. The flower version of Narcissus, I mean. But I’ve read about it a hundred times. The man, at least.”

The woman’s head tilts in thought, but her expression clears quickly.

“Mythology nerd, huh?”

“Classics major.”

“Oh, super mythology nerd.” She tips the bucket forward again. One of the flowers slides against Blake’s cheek. “You better take one then. You can show it off to all your friends. Spin it however you like. Something like, you got a mythological flower from a mythological girl.” She pauses. “Okay that didn’t actually make sense, I don’t think. I meant like, you got a flower from a goddess. Because I’m like -- uh, I dunno -- what’s the hottest goddess?”

“The last person who answered that question got into an awful lot of trouble, in the end,” Blake quips, but finds her smile aches. (She also finds she has an immediate answer, though it’s not one of the three that Paris had to consider in the contest that lead to such trouble for the Greeks and Trojans both.)

“I think I remember the basics of that one. How about you take the flower and my number instead of a golden apple and we’ll skip the bad ending.”

It’s sudden, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like Blake’s been waiting for a while.

“Forward,” she says despite all that, because it’s almost as though she has to. As though there are steps to take that she’s not allowed to skip, lest she upset a balance she wasn’t aware existed before now.

It’s a dramatic thought; she’d laugh at herself if — when she reaches into the bucket to grasp one of the stems — she didn’t feel the world sigh in relief.

“I’ve never really seen the point of wasting time.” The woman shrugs, tone and words light, but only in the same sort of way (required, practiced lines). “There’s just not enough of it.”

“You sound like you’re a hundred years old and on your deathbed,” Blake laughs, but oh, her heart is clenching. And she’s taking out her phone. She’s making a new contact. She’s already thinking about the first time she’ll text this woman and she doesn’t even know her name.

(There isn’t enough time. Somehow, she agrees, and that makes her want to get all of it in now, while she has a chance.)

“Or I’m someone who is very late in dropping off some daffodils that don’t really like the cold much. Even if I have a very valid excuse in wanting to stick around.” She pulls away with several long strides backwards; it seems genuinely regretful, but she brightens a little, seeing the flower clutched in one of Blake’s hands (and her phone in the other). “818-815-6247. Let me know if you want to see the greenhouse. Or tell me about the prettiest goddess. Or do anything at all.”

She takes another step back and Blake nods twice, before realizing she’s missing something.

“Wait! I’m — ” It comes out sounding a little more desperate than she would have liked, but then, the woman turns back towards her quickly enough for a single petal to fall off of one of of the flowers, so maybe pretenses aren’t really something either of them are concerning themselves with. “I don’t know your name.”

“Yang.” It’s not the name she expects, but it slides into place easily enough.

“Blake.” (Somehow, that’s not the name she expects either, even though it’s her own.) “I’ll text you. Call you. Soon.”

“Good.” She catches another flash of that smile before Yang turns away. “And I’ll be waiting. Or — trying to. I’ve never been very patient, though you’d think I would have learned by now.”

“A lot of practice?” Blake calls after her, takes a step towards her (doesn’t notice).

“Too much, I think.” Her laugh carries, blonde curls whip in the wind as she walks off. “So try to have mercy on me this time.”

Afterwards, she smells of daffodils (of dark green leaves, of a meadow that stretches on and on and on, of mint and hay and dirt and weeds and the whole of spring), as though it’s coming from her pores rather than the flower she places in a small glass on her nightstand. The scent persists through showers and nights out and all the smells that come with living in a coed freshman dorm. It lasts for days (or eons) and stretches back in time, too; she finds it tucked away in memories where it has no place, couldn’t possibly exist.

(She’s five and her mom takes her to pick blueberries, she’s fourteen on a field trip to the botanical gardens, she’s seventeen and trying to find a perfume that suits her, she’s nineteen and stepping out of her late night Byzantine history seminar. And it’s there — it’s always there — just out of reach: the field over, the next flower, a slightly different perfume, a whiff on the wind that she chases across campus for ten minutes before giving up.)

(She’s older — ageless — and she doesn’t recognize herself, but it’s there too.)

The scent of flowers lingers and Blake doesn’t mind.

She also texts Yang before it can begin to fade.

—

They first meet on Helios’s Day, on the morning of the vernal equinox, under a bright and clear sky.

She watches from behind the treeline, but even from a distance, it’s obvious, the way the ground rises to greet her when the woman walks past: stalks lengthening, flowers unfolding, grass brightening into a more vibrant shade of green with each step she takes. The world is in bloom and it follows the unspoken instructions of only one creature that roams its face.

Hesitation is not a trait often associated with the gods, but the god of the underworld feels it now, unwilling to interrupt the celebration that the very Earth seemingly wishes to partake in, but desiring it all the same. She is used to the damp, dark coolness of the world below, and the sun always seems beats down with an unfamiliar and uncomfortable heat, but today it feels indomitable and irresistible.

Today, she wants to step out into the light.

Vines wrap around her as soon as she does — nothing binding or restrictive, but welcoming — a soft touch that greets her in time with the smile of the one who controls them. She does not appear surprised at the intrusion, nor displeased, but when she walks closer and white flowers — fragrant and familiar — spring up all around them, certainty sprouts as well.

“The receiver of many guests. Giver of good counsel. It’s not often we see you up here.” The tone is teasing, different from what she typically hears, and it warms her cheeks, places a shade of color there that others would not recognize. (She barely recognizes it in herself.) “What have you come to the surface for?”

She has an answer to the question, but it’s an honest one, not one she typically gives freely.

She gives it freely now.

“Sometimes, I miss being around things that are alive.”

The goddess doesn’t belittle when she responds — though her smile stays playful — like so many others would.

“I may be able to help you with that.”

The ground shifts again and one of the flowers at her feet lifts, stem lengthening to four times what would be natural, until it’s sliding between her fingers, depositing itself in her palm, releasing itself from the Earth when she lifts it to her nose and breathes deep.

“Everything dies when I go below,” she says softly, and with regret.

“Not this.”

She stares into the goddess’s eyes (crocus, monkshood, bellflower, wisteria, lilac) and believes her words, impossible though they are.

“I’m Kore.” The name doesn’t quite suit her, though the king of the underworld had known it before now. “You should call on me whenever you want to feel something that is alive.”

“And what if I feel that always?”

Kore laughs. The whole of the clearing blooms.

“Then you should call on me always, Hades. Whenever you please.”

—

There’s no need for any pretense. No desire for it, besides.

They graduate from text to voice quickly — within the span of a week — and when Blake calls, Yang answers on the first ring. When Blake asks if she wants to hang out, Yang rattles off seven different options without pause.

(“I’ve been thinking about what we should do together since we first met,” Yang says, not really an admission, not when the truth is so easily accessible.

“That was four days ago,” Blake feels she has to add, but Yang just laughs.)

Yang — without flowers blocking her face — is more beautiful than anything Blake’s ever seen. It’s more than the sharp cut of her jaw or the muscles of her forearm or the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles; Yang is attractive and anyone would agree, but it’s more than that. (Something curls in Blake’s stomach and settles in place at the sight, roots growing quick and deep.) And maybe it’s more for Yang too, because her expression — when Blake steps into view, climbing up over the crest of the hill that marks the start of the far field — holds more than Blake can measure.

College is strange, and the relationships formed within it, stranger still. She’d met Sun at a freshmen karaoke mixer that she’d been dragged to by her roommate, and in the span of a few hours, they’d gone through every stage of a relationship imaginable: strangers (the awkward first meet), rivals (when he and Ilia had picked the same song and Blake had been dragged along in solidarity), possible partners (when mixer had become unofficial and the alcohol had come out), and (finally) best friends (when the awkward flirtation and intoxication was behind them).

But this — Yang taking her hand and leading her towards the greenhouse — is different, and that must be apparent to both of them, because Yang hardly looks surprised when Blake doesn’t step away, even once they’re inside.

“Why botany?” Blake asks, tone softer than the question merits.

Yang’s lips curl and Blake gets caught on the corner like it’s a hook; she wants to press her fingers against the indent, and then do the same with her mouth.

“I like making things grow. Wherever I go.” Her smile is unabashed, even when she continues. “Cheesy, I know. But I like making things come alive.”

(Blake thinks of vines growing in places they shouldn’t be able to, thinks of flowers sprouting from the cracks in pavement, thinks of the roots of trees spilling out over and digging into rock. She thinks — most of all — of Yang’s hands on all of them and on her as well, a different sort of challenge that Yang never took as such.)

“It’s not cheesy it’s — “ As she searches for the word, Yang’s gaze does something similar with the planes of her face (searching, though Blake doesn’t think she finds what she’s looking for, and finds herself coming up similarly short). “ — sincere? Earnest?” She shakes her head; neither are quite right. “Whatever it is, the world needs more of it.”

The honesty doesn’t sound as sweet coming from her lips, but Yang doesn’t appear to mind. She smiles again, wider this time, and the plants around them pulse with a soft sigh, a tangible exhale of oxygen. And when Yang walks along the rows -- running her fingers gently along the leaves and petals and stalks -- when she speaks each of their names, Blake could swear the vegetation leans into her touch.

The thought is less strange when coupled with her own: that she wants to do much of the same.

She searches for patience, then.

She’s had practice with it too.

(She used to have more of it.)

—

She doesn’t last long.

But then, how could she?

Only a week later, one of Yang’s friends throws a back-to-school party and Blake gets pulled along, as seems to be the new trend.

(“It’s weird,” Yang says, much in the same way she always does, with a grin lighting her face. “She’s normally a lot more particular about her guest list.”)

There’s alcohol waiting for them as soon as they walk in, and they each throw back a shot before moving any further, though the (surprisingly) fancy cocktail Blake picks up shortly after is one that she nurses for the rest of the night, at least until her hands find better uses.

Yang’s hands find them more quickly than Blake’s; she’s tactile and gregarious and fun and she touches people as she greets them, throughout conversations, when she says goodbye. But she touches Blake most of all: her hand on the small of her back, her fingers threading through the hair that rests at the nape of her neck, her chin resting on Blake’s shoulder.

It builds and builds and there’s not enough time and so Blake reaches down, tugs on Yang’s hand and pulls her outside. It feels like the only place they can be — tucked into the corner of the balcony of Yang’s friend’s lavish apartment with the night sky overhead — when she kisses her.

There’s no surprise in the action, but there’s plenty of everything else.

(Blake considers all the Greek words for affection, for feeling, for lust, for every form of love known to the poets, and disregards them all.)

Her lipstick is dark, and it’s smeared over Yang’s mouth when she pulls back (later — that night and in the upcoming weeks and months and years — she’ll find it in other places: Yang’s neck, her thighs, her sheets). The stains Yang leaves is of a different sort, but Blake first notices it in the taste left on her lips. She runs her tongue along it, brow pinching in thought, and Yang laughs as she watches her try to figure it out.

“Pomegranate,” she explains. “It’s the lip balm.”

Blake can’t see how that accounts for all of it and kisses her again, just to be sure.

—

The first time they kiss, the world springs into revelry.

The humans flourish under the bountiful harvest; their yields triple, they write songs about the season, they throw feasts without excuse, and each of the gods benefit from an upsurge of tributes, from the smallest villages to the largest city-states.

She hardly notices.

Instead, she focuses on memorizing the way Kore tastes.

—

She meets a boy in her Ancient Greek Lit class, finds his translation of the first line of the Odyssey to be interesting. The word polytropos, he argues, should be taken as an active description; Odysseus is not controlled but in control of his fate. ‘Sing to me, Muse, of a compelling man; sing through me the story of a man who could shape the world around him’, the boy writes, and Blake gets caught on the intensity in his expression as he reads it, is taken by his confidence and passion (forgets to argue against the lengthiness and the clear liberties he takes).

He greets her after class, suggests they study together sometime, and that’s what Yang finds them doing a couple days later, tucked away in a corner of the library, pouring over words translated a thousand times, Adam finding a way to disagree with every previous version of them. Yang slides into the conversation and the seat next to Blake without needing to be invited, her warm smile at ease even when Adam switches to Greek, speaks fast and condescending.

“Well I don’t know anything about any of that,” Yang says easily. “But Blake told me that myths were supposed to be enjoyed by everyone, right? That they were passed on from generation to generation, like bedtime songs or campfire stories. Seems like getting all wordy and pretentious doesn’t really fit that idea, right?” She smiles, and Blake’s gaze shifts towards it, away from the clear ire in Adam’s eyes. “I’d go with Blake’s version.”

In the hour they’d been at the table, Blake hadn’t offered her own translation (hadn’t been asked), but it’s scribbled there, within the margins of the pages of printed out Greek, and Yang’s fingers brush against the pen strokes as she leans in, their shoulders brushing against each other.

“Tell me about a complicated man,” Blake reads, voice soft.

“Yeah.” Yang nods and completely ignores Adam’s glare. Blake finds doing the same to be easy, his magnetism fading away, swept aside by stronger forces. “Sometimes you’ve got to admit that something like that can’t be totally summed up in a word or even in a sentence. There’s something kind of beautiful about that too — I think — admitting the complexity in such a simple way.”

“I… think so too.”

Adam doesn’t last for much longer, quickly tiring of not being the center of attention. He slams his books shut and shoves his chair out with force when he stands and Blake can’t remember what it was about him that appealed to her in the first place.

“I don’t like him,” Yang says after he leaves, a simple declaration as she steals a sip from Blake’s water bottle.

Blake blinks. Considers. “Yeah. I don’t think I’ll be studying with him again.”

And she doesn’t.

(It’s not normally that easy, she thinks, later on, and isn’t sure what she means by that at all.)

—

The humans tell tales about them, before their story is finished.

Time is odd like that when you are immortal and infinite. Beginnings and ends and middles get jumbled in a way that they never do for those who have a life to live in a linear manner.

It starts small: maidens whispering to each other, children making up rhymes, mothers telling stories to put their daughters to sleep. There’s a soft reverence in these traditions, and though she does not catalog the words they use, she picks up on the meaning. It settles in her chest — the warmth of it — different from the sort that presses at her heart when Kore is near, but significant in a distinct way.

The tales change over time, warped by the teller and the listener alike, move further from the truth. But the humans could hardly know of the color of Kore’s hair, the tone of her skin, the color of her eyes, and what did it matter when the genders were confused or the courtship was pressed into a single day? The meaning persisted, the good intentions enough to sate the both of them.

The stories lengthen, turn into poems, turn into songs, turn into performances, turn into epics. And one day Hermes tells them — amusement in his voice — that they have started to record them, to actually write them down.

But they carry on, much in the same way.

What harm could human words -- written or no -- have on the lives of the gods?

#rwby #bumbleby #writing #this fic would be such a huge undertaking but here's a disjointed start just for you #Greek Gods AU #kinda #hfkjsadhfhalsd #gay egotistical bitches #Blake's translation of Homer is from Emily Wilson who we love and respect and admire in this house

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