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keeryhours · 7 months ago

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please don’t go, i love you so - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

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Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

When you get in a serious accident, Rafe’s true feelings are left staring him in the face.

Requested

Warnings:

Lots of drama and angst, language, serious car accident, medical stuff, talk of TBIs, broken bones, and other injuries

Word Count: 4k

A/N:

Had to do research for this one, but I’m definitely no expert on medical stuff so forgive me if I get something wrong 🥲 Requests are open! BD Rafe requests can be anywhere in the timeline, past, future, smut, fluff, or angst :) Other OBX (or ST) requests also very welcome. I hope you enjoy this one!

let me know if you want to be on any tag lists :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“Iris, please, baby, we’ve got to get your shoes on.”

“No!” the toddler yelled back, running circles around the living room.

You were out of energy. You sat on the couch, your face in your hands, as she continued to run and you tried to clear your head and just breathe.

It had been a long day. A bad day. Iris had been absolutely wild, endless energy and more attitude in her nearly 2 year old self than you thought possible. And it didn’t help that JJ was out with the pogues, so you didn’t even have any backup. It was 7pm, nearing her bedtime, and this had been your whole day. You were over it.

Everything had been a fight with her all day, but the current one was getting her dressed for pickup. It was Rafe’s weekend, and he’d be pulling up any second. You didn’t feel too thrilled about seeing Rafe right now, either.

Things had been complicated with Rafe. You felt like it was a constant back and forth with him, especially recently. Not about co-parenting, never about Iris - you knew you were lucky that the two of you got along so well when it came to parenting your daughter. It was feelings that got tricky.

You didn’t even know how you felt about Rafe yourself. On one hand, you knew you loved him. You’d always love him. But just because you loved him didn’t mean you should be together. You could never forget the toxic situation your relationship had been. Constant fighting, endless tears, trust issues and anger problems.

That’s not even to mention the way he would act around you lately. He was hot and cold. Sometimes he acted all affectionate, kissing and touching you, fucking you, like you’d never broken up in the first place. Other times he was cold and withdrawn. It left you feeling confused, like emotional whiplash, and you were honestly tired of it.

You debated on letting yourself have a quick cry, but quickly wrote that off as you thought of how humiliating it would be to answer the door to Rafe with your face all red and puffy from crying. You took a second to collect yourself, before putting the Mom pants back on.

“Iris Elaine Cameron,” you said sternly, standing from the couch.

The little girl came to a stop, looking up at you with a big grin on her face, totally oblivious to your frustration. The sight of her angelic face softens you immediately, of course. She had her light brown hair up in tiny pigtails, dressed in one of the many outfits Rafe had bought her. Some designer brand dress, not that you had any idea about that or thought it made much sense to dress a toddler in such expensive clothes. She looked cute, though.

You held up her Mary Jane shoes. “Are you gonna let Mommy put your shoes on so Daddy can come pick you up?” you asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Her little face lit up with joy. “Dada! Dada!”

Your heart clenched in your chest. Iris had been a total Daddy’s Girl since day 1 - and Rafe was completely wrapped around her little finger - but sometimes the reminder of him hit you especially hard.

At the promise of seeing her dad soon, Iris happily hopped over to you. You smiled as you lifted her onto your lap and slid her shoes on, buckling them. “There. See? All done,” you said. Iris held her palms out and twisted them, baby sign language for all done, which made you giggle. When you had read the articles and brought it up to Rafe, he had thought teaching her sign language as an infant was dumb. But it actually ended up being extremely helpful since she couldn’t communicate with words yet.

“Book?” she asked you, and you knew exactly what she wanted - her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are. She’d have you read it 50 times a day if you’d do it. You smiled as you reached over to unzip the diaper bag, pulling the book out. She broke into a huge grin just at the sight of it.

You opened the beloved book and began to read to her, making her giggle with the different voices you’d do for the monsters. Her favorite part was always when you or Rafe would read the line “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!” while attacking her with kisses and tickles. She laughed so hard every time.

When the book was finished, you closed it and slipped it back in the bag to go to her dad’s. She pouted like she was about to throw a fit if you didn’t read it again. “Uh uh. You’re gonna have to wait until Daddy reads it tonight.” You leaned in, rubbing your nose against hers, making her giggle.

You sat Iris down on the ground at the exact time you heard the front door opening. You raised your eyebrows knowingly at Iris, who’s eyes went wide in the direction of the hallway. You both knew perfectly well who it was.

Rafe sauntered into the living room, sunglasses sitting on his face despite the sun already beginning to set. His bored expression was immediately replaced by a huge grin as he saw his daughter.

“Hey, baby girl,” he said, lifting her into his arms as she squealed with delight.

You avoided eye contact with Rafe, busying yourself around the living room as you made sure everything Iris needed that he didn’t already have at his place was packed in her diaper bag. Once you were satisfied, you approached Rafe with the bag, handing it over. He took it from you with a curious expression.

“You’re being weird,” he said, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head.

You ignored him, leaning over to give Iris a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, baby. I’ll see you Sunday night, okay?”

Rafe doesn’t take his eyes off you, like he’s examining you inside and out. “What’s your deal?”

You sighed - you already felt defeated and exhausted going into this encounter, you didn’t really want to do this tonight. “Nothing. Everything is fine.”

But Rafe knows you better than anyone.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you. “This is because I took Briana on another date, isn’t it?”

You felt your skin turn ice cold at the accusation, your defenses building themselves high. “That’s fucking ridiculous.”

The slightest smirk dances across his lips as he sits a wiggling Iris back on the ground, his eyes never leaving yours. “That is why you’re mad.”

You huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms and looked away from him, watching Iris start dragging everything you’d just cleaned up out of the toy box again, paying no mind to the two of you. “I’m not mad. And if I was, I have much better things to be upset about than who you choose to stick your dick into,” you hissed back at him.

Rafe barked out a laugh, looking up at the ceiling as he did like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. “You are so full of shit.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Get out, Rafe. I’ll see you Sunday.”

He watched you for a minute longer as you both stood there in silence. Finally he let out a big sigh, running a hand over his face. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You didn’t acknowledge the comment as he moved to lift Iris into his arms again, her bag slung over his shoulder. You followed him to the front door, ready to shut him out as soon as possible, but as soon as he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to you.

“You know, it’s none of your business who I see. We’re not together. You’re not my girl.”

You just looked at him, his words cutting far deeper and harder than you wanted to admit. “Same goes for you too, Rafe,” you said, thinking of the multiple times Rafe’s temper and jealousy had ruined one of your dates. Half the island was scared to even look at you because of him. It was fucking annoying.

Rafe scoffed. He shook his head one more time with that stupid grin on his face. “I’ll see you Sunday,” he said, and then he was walking off towards his truck.

You didn’t linger. You shut the door as soon as he stepped away, leaning against the wood as you took a deep, shaky breath. God, you hated that arrogant asshole sometimes.

You wallowed in your despair on the couch for a while that night, switching between various shows, none of them catching your interest. Eventually you think what’s the point, and decide to just go to bed early. You might as well take advantage of the sleep without having to worry about getting up early.

—

You hoped you would feel better the next day.

You didn’t.

You made breakfast for you and JJ, not something you typically do when Iris was at Rafe’s, but you felt like pancakes. And JJ certainly wasn’t going to complain.

“You look depressed,” JJ pointed out helpfully through a mouthful of pancake as you sat at the small dining table across from him.

You glared at him over your plate before eating a bite of your own breakfast. JJ held his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Touchy subject this morning, I see.”

As much as you loved your twin brother, you were relieved when he picked up his surf board after breakfast and told you he was going out. You didn’t exactly feel up to company.

With JJ gone, you attempted to stay busy around the house, but once everything was cleaned to perfection, you found yourself standing in the silent living room, feeling like you had no idea what to do with yourself. What was wrong with you, you thought. The place was always too quiet without Iris.

You needed a drive to clear your head.

You snatched your keys from the side table and left the house, still dressed in the tank top and athletic shorts you’d been cleaning the house in. You just wanted to drive around the island for a while, you weren’t really going anywhere, so you didn’t care how you looked.

You turned on your favorite sad playlist and sang at the top of your lungs to songs about love and broken hearts and pain. You felt pretty silly, but this was your time, your coping mechanism, and you weren’t going to feel bad about it.

Fuck Rafe Cameron. And not in the way you usually did.

You drove with the windows down, the salty breeze whipping through your hair, cooling your skin. You felt yourself starting to feel lighter.

You didn’t see the truck barreling faster than the speed limit around the corner. No one even had time to lay on the horn. You didn’t see or feel anything except a brief flash of pain and then - nothing.

—

“Wow! That’s beautiful, baby.”

Rafe lifted up the piece of paper covered in crayon scribbles, examining it like it was on display at The Louvre. It was the fifth one he’d been given since he sat on the floor with Iris, crayons and paper spread out all around them. Each piece of art went in a stack to be displayed somewhere in the house.

He watched his daughter as she picked up the green jumbo crayon and began roughly scribbling it across another blank page. The same big smile he always had around Iris was spread across his face. Nothing made him happier than spending time with her.

Rafe was caught off guard by the sound of his phone ringing loudly in his pocket. He sighed as he pulled it out, expecting to see either Topper or Kelce forgetting it was his weekend with Iris. But his eyebrows furrowed as he saw it was JJ calling him. JJ never called or texted him. They only had each other’s numbers in case of emergency.

Rafe felt a jolt of pure fear deep in his chest.

He answered the call, tentatively bringing the phone to his ear. “Maybank?” he answered.

He felt the nausea spread over him like a tidal wave when JJ spoke your name in his panicked voice. It was you. God, something bad had happened to you.

“S-slow down,” Rafe said, holding his shaking hand out in front of him as if JJ could see. Pure panic was spreading and growing through every vein in his body. “What…what happened?”

JJ’s voice was shaking too as he spoke. Rafe could tell he was pacing, probably pulling at his messy blonde hair as he did. “She- it was a truck. Guy was speeding and hit her head-on. Her car is totaled, they…they haven’t even let me see her yet. I don’t even know if she’s okay. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left this morning. Fuck!”

Rafe couldn’t even process JJ blaming himself for something that definitely wasn’t his fault, because he was doing the same thing. He had been a total asshole to you last night. The idea that that could possibly have been the last conversation he’ll ever have with you has him feeling like he’s going to be sick on the floor.

“I’m on my way,” Rafe said simply, and then he was hanging up the call, shoving his phone in his pocket and climbing to his feet.

Sarah was happy to watch Iris as Rafe grabbed his keys and sprinted to his truck, with promises to text her about your condition as soon as he knew anything at all. He probably would have been driving 15 over the speed limit if he wasn’t so disgustingly reminded of the dangers of the road. Instead he drove as fast as he safely could, a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he clenched his jaw tightly.

His head was spinning as he rushed into the hospital, looking around the waiting room for any sign of JJ. He didn’t see the blonde boy anywhere. He approached the receptionist desk instead, urgently giving your name to the tired looking receptionist.

“She’s in the Neuro ICU, room 5,” the receptionist said. Rafe felt his breath hitch - the fucking ICU? “We only allow two visitors at a time, and it’s immediate family only,” she continued. “You are…?”

Rafe hesitated. “Uh…I’m her boyfriend,” he said the first thing that came to mind. “But we have a child together. Please.”

The receptionist eyed him for a moment, before nodding, giving him a sympathetic look. She printed a visitor’s badge for him and handed it over. He thinks she said something about wishing you the best, but all he could hear was his own blood rushing in his ears as he mindlessly walked towards the elevators.

The last time Rafe had been in a hospital was for Iris’ birth, decidedly a much happier occasion. He felt out of place and awkward as he walked through the quiet, sterile halls, following signs pointing him where he wanted to go.

When he reached the ICU and approached room 5, he froze. He had never felt so scared in his life, he thought. He didn’t know if he could do this.

But you needed him.

He slid the glass door open, a flash of blonde hair peeking from around the privacy curtain where JJ was sitting. Rafe mustered all the strength he had to walk forward into the room. JJ looked up at him as he entered, but his eyes were immediately drawn to you as his heart shattered in his chest.

He clasped his hands behind his head as he took in the scene in front of him. He was holding off a panic attack as tears welled in his eyes. You were there on the bed, and you looked so utterly broken that it made Rafe feel like he couldn’t breathe. You were hooked up to an IV, about a million monitors mostly over your chest and head, a cast on an arm and one on a leg, a ventilator.

Rafe’s shaky legs practically gave out then, his body collapsing in the empty chair by your bedside. He was terrified to look at you, knowing he was going to start crying harder if he did. He looked at JJ instead, who looked equally wrecked, his eyes red from crying.

JJ gave Rafe the rundown the doctor had just given him. Traumatic brain injury, broken bones in your left arm and leg. You hadn’t regained consciousness at all since the accident. Things were still up in the air, nothing the doctors would say brought Rafe any comfort. They didn’t know about surgery yet, they didn’t know how long it would take you to recover, hell, they couldn’t even say if you’d be the same when you woke up.

When Rafe finally worked up the courage to be close to you, to actually look at you - he didn’t know his heart could break like this. Your normally smooth, perfect skin that he loved to trace his fingertips over because of the way you’d react to his touch, was now covered in deep bruises. Your face - that beautiful face he always adored so much, the one he fell in love with back in junior high - bruised and lacerated. He couldn’t even tell himself you were just peacefully napping. You looked like hell.

The next weeks were long and difficult. Iris stayed with the Cameron’s, and while Rafe spent every second he could drag himself away from your bedside spending it with her, he didn’t leave the hospital much at all. He grew used to sleeping in the world’s most uncomfortable chair.

Your recovery was truly a miracle. You didn’t end up needing brain surgery, but they kept you monitored for weeks. You did suffer a pretty bad TBI, and you had surgery to repair the broken bones in your arm and leg. The ventilator was removed first, which Rafe was the most relieved about, because that terrified him more than anything else.

When you finally woke up, Rafe was the first thing you saw.

The second he noticed your eyes fluttering open, Rafe was bolting up straight in his chair, his hand gently cupping your cheek with a barely-there touch as he whispered your name.

“R…Rafe?” you had croaked, voice raspy and dry from disuse and the ventilator tube being down your throat. Rafe called the nurses immediately, and multiple examinations, a plastic hospital jug of ice water, and some heavy pain meds later, you were feeling…okay.

JJ was there for most of the day like he was every day he didn’t have work. He actually cried when he showed up and saw you awake, which surprised Rafe because he didn’t even seem embarrassed about it. He just embraced you as gently as possible so as not to hurt you, and it was clear you were equally as happy to see him. There was that twin bond, something Rafe found a little weird (especially when the two of you would communicate without even talking) but also…endearing.

Recovery was a long road, and it was a lot of hard work, but the doctors were confident in your ability to return to normal in time. You had to work on your memory, your speech. Physical therapy took up most of your days. But Rafe knew you were strong, and you showed him every day. Even Iris got to visit as often as she could, but you didn’t want her in a hospital for too long so she wouldn’t get sick.

Rafe sat by your side late at night, gently brushing his fingers through your hair as you laid with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. Your hospital stay was finally almost over. You’d be coming home tomorrow, staying with the Camerons so you had the help.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. You were happy, but his behavior was confusing to you at the same time. “You’re being weirdly sweet,” you said with a teasing smile.

Rafe looked away from your eyes. “Yeah…well.”

The two of you sat with that silence for a while. You knew there was plenty he wasn’t saying, and you wondered if he would.

Rafe reached forward and traced a finger along your cheek, over your jaw line. The cuts and bruises on your face were mostly healed now, and you were endlessly grateful when they told you they didn’t expect any lasting scarring. His light touch sent a shiver through your body.

When Rafe finally spoke again, he sounded different than you had ever heard him. His voice was weak, broken. “Don’t do that to me again.”

Your face fell as you looked at him - really looked at him - and saw the pain hidden deep behind his blue eyes. Obviously you knew none of this was your fault, but you felt terrible for what you’d put your loved ones through all the same.

“I’m sorry-“ you began to say, but Rafe shook his head.

“Do you understand that I love you?” he said, his voice choked up as tears welled in those deep eyes. The words hit you like a physical blow, you felt yourself moving back as you looked him in the face. “I don’t give a fuck about Briana, or any other girl on this island compared to you. And it’s not just ‘we were together for a while and you’re the mother of my daughter so I’ll always love you’,” he continued, like the words were spilling out of his mouth faster than he could control. “No, like, I love you.”

He was looking you so intensely in the eyes that it took your breath away. You felt tears in your own eyes, falling down your cheeks before you could do anything about it. “Rafe…” you breathed out, you didn’t know what else to say. You weren’t even sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Maybe we could…maybe we could try again,” he said, the hope audible in his voice. “A…relationship?”

You let out a long shaky exhale. “I…” You searched your brain for the right words to say, searched your chest for how you really felt. “We…it’s never worked, Rafe, we never-“

“Do you love me?”

The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”

“Do you love me?” he repeated simply. “I told you how I felt. I need to know how you really feel.”

You swallowed. “I love you, Rafe,” you said, your voice small. “I’ve always loved you. But it’s still never worked for us.”

Rafe clasped both your smaller hands in his, being gentle with your cast. “I’m serious this time, baby. This is…things are different.” He held intense eye contact with you as he spoke, and you could see the genuine emotion swirling behind his eyes. “I’ve had a taste of what life would be like without you, and I don’t wanna go through that again.”

You had no control whatsoever as the tears started to fall down your face faster, a sob escaping from your throat. Rafe pulled you into the tightest gentle hug he could manage, his large hand combing through your smooth hair as you cried into his chest. He was a little panicked, he didn’t know if he had said something wrong to upset you. He didn’t want to make you sad anymore.

When you pulled back, Rafe wiped the tears from your face. He traced his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, back to your mouth, and then he was leaning in to press the softest kiss to your lips. When he broke the kiss and looked into your eyes again, he could see the mix of emotions swirling behind them. He wished he could read what you were thinking.

He grabbed your good hand with his own, intertwining your fingers. “You don’t have to decide anything now. You have plenty else to worry about. Just…think about it for me?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand in yours, which gave him some reassurance. You didn’t know what your decision would be, but you wanted to make sure you made the right one. For you, for Rafe, and for Iris.

“I love you,” you whispered to him.

His lips turned up in a smile. “I love you too.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

Text

Pent Up 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you seek validation through online correspondence with incarcerated men, only for one to lock you down in turn.

Characters: convict/excon!Thor (silverfox)

Note: It’s an addiction now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The repetitious recording crackles in your ear. You sigh. ‘You are currently in queue. You will be connected shortly.’ You lean on the building’s facade as the noontime rush honks and stomps past you.

You usually pop over to the cafe on lunch, just to get away from Jensen and the shop. Not today. You flick your thumb against your index as your patience dwindles. What if he got in more trouble and you spend your break waiting for nothing?

Click.

“Hello? Hello?” There’s a scuffing then he clears his throat. “My queen, are you there?”

You don’t answer right away. His timbre is gristly and deep, an accent lilting each syllable. Somehow, you didn’t expect him to sound like that. It sends a chill through you as the rich tone stirs your guts.

“Thor?” You babble dumbly.

“Ah, my queen. My apologies. Another did overstay their allotted time,” he tuts.

The affectation in his voice explains the cadence of his emails. You thought he was just super into Shakespeare or whatever.

“My queen?” He drawls, “you are quiet.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” you shuffle around the corner and hide in the alley, cheeks burning. “I’m a bit shy.”

It’s the whole truth. Probably the reason you strike out so often. You lock up and don’t know what to say past a point. You didn’t get far this time either. What made you think this was a good idea? You seem to be chock full of those lately.

“I understand,” he purrs, “I don’t mind doing the talking. How long I’ve waited just to hear your voice and it is like nectar. So sweet and pure.”

You bring your hand to your throat and dig your toe into the cracked pavement. He’s smooth. Very smooth. You didn’t expect to feel like this. You full thought you’d be bored to tears.

“Thank you,” you waft out breathily.

“It is only the truth,” he assures. “And that picture you sent, how every part of you is pristine.”

“Thor,” you utter.

“Forgive me, I do have very much time for thinking and the words overflow.” He rambles, “when I am alone in my bunk and the darkness settles upon me, there is a dearth in my chest and yet my heart fills at the thought of you.”

You let out a strange noise. His voice, his words... You think of the photo he sent. He isn’t ugly either. Shoot. Shoot! Don’t fall for it. He’s a criminal.

“My queen,” he intones.

You cough, “why do you call me that?”

“Because you rule my world,” his voice drips like syrup. “You are all I think of. It is why I have behaved. I’ve kept out of the hole.”

“The hole?”

“Solitary,” he explains.

“Oh...”

“Did I scare you? I do not mean to. It is only how things are in here,” he sniffs. “I don’t like it. I am not a violent man,” he assures. “Yet, within these walls, it is needed.”

“Yes, it would be...” you murmur.

“But I think of you, my queen, and I restrain myself.” He hums. “I think of your gentle hands... and your lips...”

Your cheeks are hot. You touch one and exhale loudly.

“It’ll all be real soon, won’t it, queen?”

“Yeah, uh, what?” You blink.

“Yes, upon my release. I wish we could speak face-to-face but I thought a call could suffice--”

“Release?”

“Yes, it has been right about five years. My sentence is up. Provided I can bide my parole--”

“Parole?”

“You are surprised!” He proclaims, “I knew you would be. I cannot wait. I am counting the days.”

“I didn’t... I thought... you don’t have a life sentence?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he chuckles, “though I know a few of those. Not very pleasant men.”

You’re speechless. Breathless. You stare at the brick wall across from you. You swear you checked, they all were in for good. Dang.

“Um, I’m on my break and I have to get back to work,” you croak.

“Already?”

“I was on hold... a while,” you eke out. “Sorry, I—gotta go.”

“My queen.”

“I hope everything goes well.”

“I will call again--”

“Bye.”

You end the call and nearly drop the phone. Your heart is thumping. It’s okay. You never game them any fine details. You always keep it vague. He doesn’t know who you are or where you live. It’s fine. You’re fine.

You head back into the shop, slightly dazed. You go behind the desk as Jensen hunches over a motherboard. You put your phone down and sit stiffly on the stool.

“No coffee today?”

“No,” you mutter.

“Everything okay?”

You shake your head and flick away the fog in your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I just... I didn’t get much sleep.”

You shift and put your focus to your computer. You open your inbox and go to the settings. ‘Delete Account’ lights up under the cursor. You learned your lesson. You’re not going to keep messing with these men. You had your fun and now it’s over.

👄

The days grow dull. Life dims back to its usual cloudy malaise. Your mom calls to tell you she’s taking the kids away on a holiday and needs someone to watch the house. You try to think of any holiday you took as a kid. You only ever visited your nan or your aunt.

You say yes. You need the extra money. Besides, your neighbours are friggin noisy. It will make your commute longer but whatever.

Their house is nice. Your stepdad is loaded. And a jerk. When he started dating your mom, he made you get a job. You were thirteen and no one would hire you. You ended up going to the nursing home and playing checkers with the residents. It was volunteer only but he said the experience was worth it. You guess you had fun.

You put your things in the guest room. You know better than to disturb anything else. A list of instructions is left by the door, right next to a camera. Wow, Andy, really?

The change in scenery is something, you guess. Something different. No matter what you do, you just can’t seem to break the sameness. It’s pathetic that the most exciting thing going on in your life is this.

You are sure to lock the door on your way out. Every lock, every window, has one of those censors that will alert your stepdad to your most minuscule mistake.

The bus ride is longer than you like. The seats are dingy. Ugh. You get off downtown and hiss as you realise you forgot your thermos on the kitchen counter. That’s the thing, when you change routine, you’re bound to miss something. That one detail puts your whole day off.

When you knock at the shop door, Jensen doesn’t answer. You have to bang on it several times before he shows up. His eyes are sleepy behind his thick lenses. You huff.

“Game night?” You wonder as you enter.

“Tournament. Got second.”

“Second?” You scoff as you put your bag on the counter. “Worth it, then.”

“Ha, I know. I got reckless. Blew it all.”

“Jens,” you say as you get up on the stool and rub your eyes, “are there any prizes for these games or is this just you torturing yourself?”

He’s quiet. That’s all the answer you need.

“God, I need a red bull,” he mutters as he checks the aisles.

“Me too, bud.”

“What? You said those things are battery acid.”

“They are,” you snort. “But I’m friggin exhausted.”

“They got a dragon fruit flavour,” he suggests.

You laugh again. “I’ll suffer.”

He grumbles and goes through opening as you check the till. Despite the rough start, the day unfurls in its usual monotony. You sit and type, yawning as customers wander in with broken devices or hoping to sell some unused block from twenty years ago.

You’re about to finish your last lesson in your marketing module when the door chirps again. You’re too focused to look up as Jensen leans on the counter and sniffs. He scratches his nose.

“Hey, dude, anything I can help you with today?” He asks.

“I am in the market for an affordable device,” the voice cuts through your concentration and tickles your brain. You blink and keep your eyes on the text. It can’t be.

“Phone, computer, tablet?” Jensen asks.

“Hm, I only need it for emails, truly,” the customer replies thoughtfully as he approaches the counter. “Basic but functional will do.”

He stops on the other side. Stolid tension roils around you as sweat trickles down your temple. Meekly, you make yourself look up, assuring yourself of your own paranoia.

The customer grins as his blue eyes are already on you. Your eyes round. It’s him! How in the heck?

He’s older than the picture. His golden hair is longer and intertwined with hanks of silver which makes it shine brighter. His shoulders are somehow broader and he has a bit extra above his belt. His arms are hug, stretching the fabric of his flannel to excess. You gulp.

“I have to go... pee,” you squeak and twist on the stool. You jump off so quickly, it wobbles behind you.

You dip behind Jensen and flee towards the restroom. He grunts as your elbow hits him in your flight. You don’t look back. It’s impossible.

You slam the door and lock it. You look in the mirror and slap your own cheek. Wake up! This is a nightmare. You pinch your side and yipe. Come on, wake up!

It’s real. It’s real. You’re cooked. Oh god.

You search for an out. Why is there no window in a bathroom? What if you had to do a two? Ugh, this is dumb. No, this is scary.

You spin in circles, panicking. What do you do? There’s one escape and it’s past that six-foot-infinity man out there. Not just a man, a criminal!

You could cry. You might. No, hold it together. This is all your own fault. You knew better. Why did you do it? Because you felt good? Ugh. How dumb. Men with no hope calling you pretty. You want to hurl.

A knock has your shoes scuffing on the floor. You spin and face the locked door.

“Hey, you okay?” Jensen asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you call back in a hollow voice. “It’s just... my time of the month.”

“Oh... Oh!” He exclaims. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“Jensen, go away,” you snip.

“Right, uh... just... uh, right. I’m going.”

You listen to his sneakers squeak away and you huff. You clutch your skull like it might explode. Maybe it will. That’s a solution, isn’t it?

You know what you’re going to do. You’re going to explain to him what happened. He got catfished!

Yeah, that’s plausible. Someone stole your picture and they pretended they were you. That’s so simple.

You inhale and steel yourself. You’re going to have to lie harder than the time you broke your mom’s favourite vase. You need to earn this Oscar.

You make yourself leave the bathroom. You stride out calmly and reclaim your perch on the stool. Jensen shows Thor a laptop as he explains its features.

“Not very used. Apparently someone bought it for a great aunt but she only played Mah Jong.”

Thor hums, “ah, and it is a bargain.” He rests his large hand on the counter. “I must be honest, I don’t believe I’ll use it much more. You see, I’ve only just come from a sentence in the penitentiary. A lot of this is new to me.”

“Prison?” Jensen gasps. “Oh man, my buddy just got out on a stint. Sounds rough.”

“Oh, a friend?”

“He’s a good guy. You know, some people just have bad luck,” Jensen shrugs off. “I can get this set up for you easy. It’s already wiped, I’d have to dig out the charger, but I’ll throw in a laptop bag for free.”

“Wonderful!” Thor booms and claps so you flinch. “I’ll take it.”

“No problem. Now, I was going to offer some security too. I can get that installed with full setup. Eighty bucks. And you can come in any time in the next year for service.” Jensen continues through his usual, though he’s adjusted the number in the customer’s favour. You don’t blame him. The guy is a monster of a dude.

“Perfect,” Thor growls.

Your eyes flit up and meet his again. He grins at you and his hand slides closer to your computer. You squirm and quickly look back to your review quiz. He’s not going to say anything in front of Jensen, so you just need to play it cool.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #pent up #au #avengers #mcu #marvel

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adokyoguen · 10 months ago

Note

hi! I have a req idea - Gojo tearing up when yn kisses his forehead as he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Basically, for me, satoru wouldn't cry in front of Y/N because he wants to continue being the strongest for her.

BUUT, that wouldn't stop him from crying over her in hiding 😏

Here it is, I made it short but if you want a continuation please feel free!

Please forgive any mistakes and correct me! I needed the translator's help several times. :((

Your eyes slowly opened so that you could adjust to the brightness of the room. You felt sore, several parts of your body including your abdomen and forehead were bandaged.

But... what really happened?

Oh, right, you and the second-year students had just fought Suguru, everyone was completely destroyed, and that included you. Sure, Gojo arrived late, but he was able to end Suguru's life. When he found you, you were lying on the floor, completely injured, as were Panda, Inumaki and Maki.

Taking you all to the infirmary was a difficult job, even more so when you were so fragile that Satoru thought he would break you if he held you wrong.

You were one of the first to receive treatment from Shoko, your bleeding was internal, but thank God you were fine.

When you had stabilized and woken up, you looked to the side, finding flowers and a letter written on the dresser;

"If you're reading this, you probably woke up without me. I'm currently solving the problems with Sukuna's vessel, so I'll be back soon to see you.

Take care :)

Note: I left a chocolate hidden for you inside your pillow.

Satoru Gojo. ♡"

You smiled as you read the letter and decided to sleep a little longer to recover until he came back.

23:43 PM

When it was night, you woke up with the infirmary door opening and footsteps walking to your stretcher. And there he was, with that arrogant smile as always.

— Oh princess, are you finally awake? — He says, sitting on the chair next to your bed.

— If my eyes are open, I probably woke up

. — Tsk... so ignorant... — Satoru laughs, twirling a strand of your hair with his finger. — So... how do you feel?

— Huh... well? I can't say, my body hurts but at the same time I feel quite energetic. — You say and he smiles.

— Well, it's to be expected, you were unconscious for 4 days.

— Wait... What?

— Yes, Shoko said you lost a lot of blood, you had several internal hemorrhages. You swallowed hard.

— And Suguru...? — You didn't want to ask that. Not when he was the one who hurt you so much. But gosh... you cared so much about him... you didn't have the courage to kill him and he took advantage of that.

— I killed him. — He says, without any joking tone in his voice. Had his efforts been in vain? You were so distracted by your thoughts that you barely noticed Satoru's voice stuck in his throat, but either way, he didn't want you to notice that.

— I... I'm sorry Toru...

— Nah, it's okay. — He says smiling, you knew he wasn't completely okay. Suguru was the only best friend Gojo had in his entire life, and now, he had been killed by himself, but of course, it was Satoru Gojo, he was always "fine". — I'll let you rest a little, I need to go after Yaga.

— Okay... — You answer as you watch him get up.

— See you later, princess.

— Wait!— You shout, grabbing the man's wrist and pulling him closer. With a quick movement, you place a long kiss on his forehead and whisper. — You're the strongest Satoru, but you're still human, remember that for me, okay?

Satoru was surprised, but with his bandage over his eyes, you could barely notice. He smiled, nodding.

— Good night, princess. — He places a loving kiss on your forehead, as a way of thanking you and leaves the infirmary.

You didn't know, but when he left the infirmary, he removed his blindfold to wipe the tears he shed.

Maybe today you won't see him cry, but who knows one day?

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huggingkoalas · 1 year ago

Text

𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!retiredavenger!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ natasha loses you three times in the worst way possible

word count — ‧₊˚ 6.6k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ angst, no happy ending, mentions of alcohol consumption, breaking up, cursing, mentions of cheating, pet names, car accident, panic attacks, jealousy, medical rooms, amnesia, mentions of therapy

authors note — ‧₊˚ yes, this was a series. i’ve decided this multi-chapter into a oneshot instead because of how much this fic has emotionally affected me :’) this fic means a lot to me but it’s also a reminder of someone really dear to me that i lost recently. i’ve lost count of how many times i cried while writing the ending, and i’m so sorry if the ending seems rushed </3

Natasha was always full of confidence, loyalty and fierceness. She never backed down from a fight, especially excelling in close hand-to-hand combat where her ability was intimidating. Ruthless and exceptionally efficient and skilled at her job, she struck fear into anyone who had the misfortune to cross the Black Widow’s path.

But that was at work. And at home? There was a big difference. While her enemies were always on their knees at the end of a fight, begging her for mercy to spare their lives, she was on her knees this time. Natasha Romanoff — one of the founding members of the Avengers, an agent of S.H.I.E.LD., a professional assassin and your wife — was currently on her knees, begging for your forgiveness.

“I’m sorry, moya lyubov’ (my love). Forgive me, please.” She begged, tears gathering in her eyes.

Your shadow loomed over the kneeling redhead. Holding your breath and trying to keep your tears at bay, you pursed your lips together, not trusting yourself to speak in a steady voice.

“Please, I’ll do anything.” With trembling hands on her lap, Natasha glanced up at your face. She couldn’t control a sob breaking out from her throat as she saw the saddened expression on your face.

“Am I… not important to you anymore?” You spoke in a quiet voice.

“I…-” With eyes filled with tears, she struggled to find the right words to explain herself. Despite her strength and confidence, Natasha looked vulnerable, almost broken, before you.

“Where were you tonight? Drinking with Bruce and Thor again?” You asked with a shaky breath.

The answer was already clear before Natasha even spoke. There was a faint smell of alcohol lingering in the air, a reminder of her downward spiral in recent months. It pained you to witness the transformation, to see the woman you loved slipping further and further away with each passing day. She had been arriving home late consistently, often in an intoxicated state. Her presence during evenings became a rarity, and you would find yourself sleeping alone in the shared bed at night, longing for the warmth of her presence. You didn’t get to see her in the mornings, too — despite consuming a large amount of alcohol the night prior, Natasha would, without fail, rise early for work the next day before you woke up.

Two months. Two months of Natasha repeating the same apologies. Two months of you backing down every single time and forgiving her when you saw her vulnerable expression. The redhead was truly your weakness, your Achilles heel. Even after she would pour her heart out to you, the same phrases ‘I promise I won’t drink again’ and ‘this is the last time, I swear’, she’d just return to the bar the next day, drinking to her heart’s content. It was as if she’d forgotten her promises to change. As if she had no remorse for her actions, or care for your feelings.

You missed snuggling up beside her after a long day, your head in the crook of her neck as you smelled the familiar vanilla shampoo in her hair. You missed the feeling of her heartbeat against your chest and the softness of her breath against your skin. These days, the smell of alcohol replaced the comforting and soothing scent you were used to.

While Natasha’s current vulnerability displayed her remorse and pain you’d never seen before, you wanted another kind of vulnerability — one where she was there for you and prioritised you first. You longed for her comfort, her reassurance as she held you close and whispered words of love in your ear.

With an exhausted sigh, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of even more disappointment at the sight of the two untouched plates of home-cooked beef stroganoff on the dining table. The tantalising aroma of the beef stroganoff now made you nauseous. It bitterly reminded and mocked you of your meticulous efforts to please your wife. The once-warm meal lay cold since you plated them up three hours ago while you waited for Natasha to return home. Accompanying the two plates were two empty wine glasses, a softly lit candle, and an unopened bottle of red wine. And in the refrigerator sat a baking tray of lemon meringue pie from Natasha’s favourite bakery.

Today held a significant meaning — It marked the second wedding anniversary with the love of your life, Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Throughout the day, you spent hours pouring your heart and soul into preparing each slice of tenderloins as you made the beef stroganoff. Cooking wasn’t your forte, you had to learn how to cook it from websites.

And to add salt to the injury, she never even bothered to return home early, preferring to drown herself in alcohol at the bar with Bruce and Thor.

You thought that if you cooked her favourite dish and bought her favourite dessert, Natasha would come home instead of getting wasted at the bar, right? You were sorely mistaken. You had even persistently messaged her all day, excitedly telling her about the candlelit dinner you had carefully planned for the evening. However, all of your texts went unanswered.

You almost found amusement and humour in your naïvety.

“Y/N/N?” Natasha barely whispered. Her vulnerability differed from the loving and confident person you fell in love with.

“I need some time apart to figure things out, Natasha.” It had been some time since you uttered her full name, always preferring to call her ‘Natty’ or, your personal favourite, ‘sunshine’.

A pang of sorrow tugged at your heart, for Natasha had truly been your sunshine once upon a time. In the beginning, she had truly been like a ray of sunlight, her sweet smile had the power to brighten even the gloomiest of days, her laughter your favourite melody. And now, as you stood before her, the Natasha you once knew and loved had become a distant memory. She was a shadow of her former self, almost unrecognisable to you. She was no longer your sunshine, but a raincloud that drenched you in loneliness and despair.

Your fingers instinctively played with the wedding ring adorning your left hand, tracing its edges and rolling it around your finger to alleviate your anxiety as you awaited her next words. You expected her to refuse and deny your words, to tell you that she needed you in her life, but all you got from her was a single word — “okay.”

Her answer made you scoff.

“That’s it? All I get is an ‘okay’?” You seethed, your hands clenched into tight fists as you let anger consume your words. It was as if your weight of frustration, loneliness and insecurities exploded, the pent-up emotions finally erupting into words. “Did you ever take this relationship seriously, Natasha? Was I nothing more to you than a warm body when you had nightmares and decent fuck when you were horny?”

“I-I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way.” Natasha’s voice wavered as she struggled to find the right words.

“I can’t take this anymore.” You declared, the words spilling from your mouth before you could stop yourself. “Fuck you, Natasha, I’m leaving. Forget taking a break — I never want to see your face again. I wish I had never met you.”

The hurt and shock in her eyes were unmistakable, but you did not regret your harsh words. You’d finally had enough. Enough of her unkept promises, her lies. Her actions spoke louder than words. The silence that followed afterwards was deafening. Natasha looked down, avoiding eye contact with you.

You slid your wedding ring off your finger, using more force than usual as you placed it on the coffee table. The sound of it hitting the table echoed loudly throughout the room. Instead of feeling a weight off your shoulders, a gnawing sense of anxiety and disappointment bubbled in your stomach.

Is this the end of your marriage?

You love, no, loved Natasha, and the weight of the one-sided relationship had become too much for you to bear alone. You wondered if she ever truly cared about you in the first place, or if you were only a distraction from her busy life as an Avenger. You had a nagging feeling that, maybe, she was unsatisfied with being in love with an Avenger-turned-housewife. Maybe she preferred someone like Bruce? You shook your head as the image of Bruce surfaced in your mind. Aware of his crush on your wife, you could not help but wonder if Natasha, had developed feelings for him and hesitated to break your heart with the truth.

Maybe that’s why she’s been spending time with Bruce at the bar.

Was her love ever real then?

And with that, you turned away. You stood before the door, your hand hesitating over the doorknob. You expected Natasha to intervene and stop you from leaving. With a hesitant glance back at her, you observed her entire frame convulsing with sobs, making it even harder to walk away.

You stepped out the door as you couldn’t bear to witness the pain in your favourite green eyes any longer. You knew leaving was the right thing to do, even if it tore you apart inside. As you settled into the driver’s seat and pulled away from the familiar driveway, the haunting image of Natasha’s tear-streaked face lingered in your mind

You had to get far, far away from Natasha. The only other person you could trust is Wanda, your ex-girlfriend and another Avenger. She would be able to comfort you with her soothing presence and words. Tears welled in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks as you navigated the familiar streets to Wanda’s house. The turn of events weighed heavily on your mind, and millions of questions ran through your head.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the traffic light blaring red ahead. A car from the opposite direction ran right towards you, its glaring light blinding your vision with its intensity. With a sharp breath intake, the tyres’ screeching sound filled the air as you braced yourself for impact.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours that Natasha knelt on the wooden floor after you left the house. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. All she knew was that her heart ached. It was as if someone had reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and thrown it across the room without any care.

She felt overwhelmed. The air felt thick and made it hard for her to breathe as waves of panic coursed through her. She lay in a fetal position, her knees to her chest and her forehead on the floor. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperately trying to calm the racing beats of her heart. Her body could not stop convulsing as tears streamed down her face, blurring the surroundings around her.

Every shallow breath she expelled felt painful, and she felt like she was anchored to the cold ground beneath her. It was as if the room was spinning, and the walls were closing in, trapping her in endless suffering. The ache in her chest mirrored the shattering of her heart.

The events that happened after she came home drunk had sobered her up quickly, and all she felt now was a hollow emptiness. Natasha felt like a complete asshole. She had taken advantage of your kindness and patience and trampled all over it. She took you for granted, and now she was alone in the place she called home.

Home. It was merely a house, but the treasured memories the two of you shared with love and affection made it a home.

Once the waves of a panic attack passed, she craned her neck up to glance around her surroundings. The singular candle you prepared for the candlelit dinner was still burning on the dining table, illuminating the dimly lit living room. Even with the blinds drawn over the windows, she could see outside enough to gauge that sunrise was coming soon.

Unexpectedly, the voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. shattered the silence as it echoed through the house. “Agent Natasha Romanoff, please come to the Avengers Compound as quickly as possible.”

Natasha groaned softly in response, slowly getting on her feet cautiously. Her knees and arms ached as she got her balance, a painful reminder of how she spent the night in an uncomfortable position.

Even when she chose to live separately from the Avengers, Tony insisted he installed F.R.I.D.A.Y. into the home for ‘extra’ security. A sense of unease gnawed at her. She rarely got an announcement from the A.I. unless necessary, such as an emergency or a last-minute mission.

“Did something happen?” She called out to the A.I., her voice cracking and hoarse from the crying.

“Y/N Romanoff is in the hospital wing, she has suffered critical injuries from a car accident,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied promptly.

Panic surged through her body as she quickly shed last night’s attire. With each distressed movement, thoughts of how badly hurt you were raced through her mind.

Shit. What has she done?

Natasha barged through the doors of the infirmary in the Avengers Compound, her eyes surveying the all-too-familiar place. There were countless times when she had to prioritise tending to her wounds in the infirmary after missions instead of debriefing. The place buzzed with the hum of fluorescent lights, and the antiseptic smell in the air nauseated her. She approached the first medical professional in her sightline, a male nurse.

“Bring me to Y/N Romanoff’s room, now.” She ordered, grabbing the nurse’s uniform collar in a tight fist.

The nurse’s hands struggled under her grasp, choking out. “Y-Yes, Agent Romanoff. This way.”

Letting go of his collar, the male nurse quickly led her down the hallways to your room in fear of angering the assassin further. Her heart raced as she followed behind him, not prepared for how wounded you would look after the car accident. As Natasha entered the room, her fears were confirmed as she saw you. You were lying on the hospital bed, pale and fragile, while hooked up to multiple wires and machines that monitored your every heartbeat and breathing. Your whole body was covered with bandages and bruises, and the sight of your unconscious body supplemented the guilt in her gut.

“Agent Romanoff, we’ve done X-rays, CT scans and an MRI of her body. She has multiple transverse fractures on her clavicle and pelvic bone. She’s suffered a traumatic brain injury from the car accident, and she’s been comatose ever since.”

Before she could question him further, the nurse quickly left the room. She huffed in annoyance. Shrugging off the encounter with the medical professional, she approached your bedside hesitantly, sitting on the chair beside the bed. Taking your cold hand in hers, her index and middle fingers quickly found the pulse point on your wrist.

Your pulse was weak.

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes, threatening to spill as she whispered through choked sobs, her voice trembling with emotion “It’s all my fault, I-I’m so sorry. Please, wake up.”

Natasha needed you alive and conscious. Without you, she felt lost, like she was swimming adrift in an endless sea. Her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind. She felt like her world had become even greyer. She traced the contours of your face with her eyes as if trying to memorise every detail that made you uniquely you. All she could do was hope and pray that you would wake up soon to forgive her and give her one last chance to fix everything.

Days turned into weeks into months. It’d been two months since you got into a coma. Two months since she’d heard her favourite voice. Two months of replaying the same scene the day she lost you.

The indifference in your voice. Your disappointed expression. The smell of beef stroganoff. The sound of your wedding ring placed on the coffee table. The sound of the door clicking behind you as you left the house.

Two months felt like two years to Natasha. With each passing moment, the vital signs monitor played the steady rhythm of your heartbeat in the medical room. Natasha refused to leave your side for even a moment. She was scared that you would flatline if she tore her eyes away from your body. She was like a bodyguard around you — keeping her eyes on your body even when her body was begging for sleep.

After Nick Fury heard about your current condition, he immediately gave Natasha time off from missions to allow her to prioritise your well-being. She was thankful for Nick Fury’s understanding.

Everyone in the Avengers recognised the toll it was taking on Natasha’s well-being. Wanda took it upon herself to bring the redhead meals and encourage her to shower and step outside for fresh air. Wanda would remind her that you wouldn’t want her to neglect her own needs. Despite being curious about what had happened that night, the brunette never pressed her for answers. It was obvious that the wounds were still fresh. Natasha always looked miserable whenever Wanda entered the medical room every day. The both of them would take turns taking care of you. Even when Natasha knew about your past romantic relationship with Wanda, she trusted her the most amongst all the other Avengers to take care of you when she had other matters to attend to.

Natasha felt a deep loneliness she couldn’t shake off that only your awakening could dispel. She clung to the glimmer of hope that each passing moment brought you closer to waking up. With every conversation with Dr. Cho telling her that your body was recovering well, her heart swelled with optimism. She would find a twinge of happiness in the gentle rhythm of the rise and fall of your chest.

When alone with you, Natasha would mindlessly talk to you, sharing stories of her day and reminding you that she loved you. Even when you were unconscious, she never failed to greet you every day with an ‘I love you’. She read your favourite books, played your favourite songs and whispered words of love, hoping you could somehow hear her. She’d stopped going to the bar and getting herself intoxicated, she knew that she had to be there for you.

Night after night, when Natasha’s body was too exhausted to stand vigil, she would drift off to sleep with her head resting on the edge of your bed. The position was far from comfortable, but the discomfort mattered little to her. All that mattered was being near you and being the first person you see when you wake up, even if it meant sacrificing her comfort.

And then, one day, as the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, you woke up. Natasha was asleep when you aroused from your coma, and she stirred awake by the twitch from your hand intertwined with hers.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, a soft whine leaving your throat as you met her tear-filled gaze. A wave of relief washed over Natasha, but your eyes widened in panic and alarm as you saw the redhead in front of you.

“W-Who the fuck are you?”

Natasha swore she could hear a pin drop from the silence in the room. The green eyes, previously full of hope, reflected a mixture of disappointment and pain. Speechless, Natasha met your stunned gaze as she took her time to process your words.

“W-Where am I?” You mumbled in a hoarse voice.

Your eyes tried to adjust to the blinding light of the overhead lights as your consciousness slowly reawakened. A frown formed on your face as your eyes scanned every corner of the medical room. One of the surrounding machines beeped steadily, indicating that your vital signs were stable. You scratched your head and tried to remember how you ended up in the hospital, but you can’t.

Natasha picked up the glass of water from the nightstand and offered it to you with trembling hands. You drank the water thirstily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat as you tried to make sense of your surroundings.

“It’s me, Natasha, your wife. Don’t you remember?” She began, moving her chair closer to your bed. “You’re at the Avengers Compound. You’ve been in a coma for a while.”

“I... Have a wife?” Aside from the fact that you were in an infirmary, the fact that you were married to someone surprised you more. You studied the features of the redhead sitting in front of you — the sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of your consciousness. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, we got married two years ago,” Natasha explained, her tone as soothing as possible.

“But... my girlfriend, Wanda.” You said, tilting your head to the side. “Where is she?”

Natasha’s hands shot up to cover her mouth as her eyes watered. She rose from the chair and stepped away from her bed. The room felt like it was closing in on her. Her hands became clammy, and each breath was laboured as her heart raced. A relentless drumbeat echoed in Natasha’s ears.

Was this a nightmare?

The impulse to reach out and grab your hand, a source of comfort that calmed her down, surged within her. Yet, she hesitated.

You appeared as the body of the person Natasha had fallen in love with years ago when you were just eighteen and freshly recruited into the Avengers team. The both of you had a rocky start — she was your enemy first before she became your friend and eventually your lover. However, that chapter was a long time ago as you had retired from the front lines upon marrying her.

As Natasha observed you, a sense of unease settled within her. There wasn’t the same warmth she once found in your eyes. Instead, an unfamiliar emptiness stared back at her. The very gaze that used to ignite with love and affection now held an empty void — The same expression as the day when you broke up with her. Natasha clung to the hope that your memory would somehow seamlessly reweave themselves back into your consciousness, dispelling the thoughts that she was staring at a stranger disguised as her wife.

You wrinkled your nose as you awaited her response. You tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but your muscles weakened from inactivity and failed you. You winced as you felt a sharp pain in your chest.

“Don’t strain yourself.” Natasha’s voice was laced with concern. She gently guided you to remain lying down. “I should get Dr. Cho. Stay here, don’t move.”

Before you could formulate a response, she hurried out of the room. As Natasha disappeared from your view, her heart sank as she realised the extent of your memory loss. She should have expected this — Dr. Cho did briefly inform her about how you might experience a few symptoms of memory loss due to the brain injury.

But damn, did your words hit hard.

As Natasha hurried down the corridor, a nagging sense of guilt held her down. Was your memory loss a form of karma for her past actions? Or perhaps a second chance to rebuild things with you? Even though you had effectively cut ties with her moments before the accident, she wanted to be there for you every step of the way. Was she going to tell you what had happened mere minutes before your car accident? No, not yet. Her focus had to be on providing support during your rehabilitation.

She couldn’t bear to lose you again.

The intensity of her emotions became even more palpable as Natasha approached the nurses’ station. Two familiar figures gradually became apparent in the distance, Dr. Cho and Wanda. Both of them were engaged in an animated conversation, but they stopped when they saw the dread on Natasha’s face.

“Y/N’s awake.” Natasha relayed.

Entering the hospital room as a trio, your eyes ignited with a mix of relief and recognition as you saw Wanda.

“Hey there, sweetheart. I missed you.” You greeted Wanda with a wide grin.

As those words slipped from your lips, Natasha’s heart tightened in response. It was a term you had reserved only for her before the accident. On the other hand, Wanda could only manage a warm smile, waving at you. Wanda was unsure of how to respond to the term you used to call her when the both of you were dating.

“Y/N, it’s great to see you awake.” Dr. Cho chimed in, trying to ease the atmosphere. With a clipboard in hand, she flipped through your medical records. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… confused. What happened to me?” You asked.

Natasha quickly jumped in. “You were in a car accident two months ago.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Car accident? But I don’t remember anything.”

Wanda, sensing the discomfort in the room, stepped forward. “It’s okay, Y/N. The important thing is that you’re awake now. Natasha and I are here for you.”

In response, you graced Wanda with an endearing smile. Your hand extended, seeking and finding Wanda’s. You seemed to be reassured by her presence and physical touch. Natasha, observing the scene, couldn’t help but feel a subtle pang of jealousy. She pushed it aside, reminding herself that you were only acting this way because of the memory loss.

“We’re all here to help you remember,” Natasha spoke softly.

As your eyes flickered between the two women, there was a spark of love in your eyes as you glanced at Wanda. However, when your gaze turned toward Natasha, the same reserved void of distance was in your eyes.

“Do you remember anything else before the car accident?” Dr. Cho inquired, her pen poised over the pages as she wrote down your responses.

“No…?” You responded tentatively, a furrow forming on your forehead.

“Alright. Firstly, what’s your current profession?” Dr. Cho probed.

“I’m a retired Avenger.” You uttered, unconsciously tightening your grip on Wanda’s hand.

“Your age?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Do you remember these two?” Dr. Cho redirected your attention, pointing to Natasha and Wanda.

“Wanda’s my girlfriend. I don’t remember who the other person is.” You confessed, looking at Natasha with a raised eyebrow.

Natasha crossed her arms, feeling uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Very well. Your cooperation is appreciated, Y/N.” Dr. Cho acknowledged you with a nod, turning her attention to the two other women. “Agent Romanoff and Agent Maximoff, may I talk to the both of you in my office for a few minutes?”

Natasha and Wanda exchanged an apprehensive glance before nodding in unison, accompanying the doctor out of the room. In Dr. Cho’s office, both women settled into chairs opposite her desk, their postures stiff. Dr. Cho wasted no time, closing the door to her office with a decisive click before taking her seat behind the desk.

“I’ll need to ask Y/N more questions later to confirm the type of amnesia she’s experiencing. Based on the questions earlier, there’s a high chance she’s experiencing systematized amnesia.” Leaning forward, Dr. Cho rested her elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “It’s a type of amnesia that happens when an individual experiences long-term stress or trauma. It can be from experiencing physical, sexual or emotional neglect and abuse. In response, the brain blocks out all memories about that one specific person from their past.”

Dr. Cho’s statement made Natasha’s mind spin. Wanda gripped the armrests tightly, her eyes reflecting a mix of confusion and concern. “Is that why she remembers me, and not Natasha?”

“Exactly.” She paused, turning her attention to Natasha. “Agent Romanoff, have you ever… hit your wife?”

“What? No, of course not.” Natasha replied with an exasperated shake of her head. “But… We did argue before the car accident. I haven’t been spending time with her and I was too busy drinking at the bar to spend time with her on the day of our second anniversary. She broke up with me before she got into the car accident.”

Wanda’s anger flared, her fists clenched by her sides as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “So the reason she got into a car accident is because of you?” She accused. “What the fuck, Natasha.”

Natasha drew in a deep breath. “I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t know that she’d get into a car accident. I messed up.”

Dr. Cho stepped in. “Emotions run high in situations like these, but our focus should be on helping Y/N recover and helping her navigate through her memory loss. We can’t change the past, but we can make choices to change the future.”

Wanda, her jaw clenched in frustration, couldn’t contain the bitterness in her retort. “Fine, but regret doesn’t undo the damage you’ve done, Natasha. Y/N trusted and loved you, and you let her down. She doesn’t deserve this, and she certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

Natasha’s lips trembled slightly, struggling to hold back tears.

Wanda, unable to contain her frustration, abruptly pushed her chair back. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

She stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. Dr. Cho winced at the resounding sound before sighing. “Let’s regroup later. Wanda needs some time, and we’ll address these issues when everyone’s ready.”

Wanda burst into your medical room, her brows furrowed in deep frustration and a scowl etched across her face. Startled by her sudden entrance, you jumped slightly in your bed, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw her expression.

“Wands?” You whispered. “What’s wrong?”

As you whispered her name, Wanda’s tense expression softened. She approached your bed with slow steps, her hands reaching out to hold yours.

“It’s... It’s nothing, Y/N.” Wanda replied, her voice tight with emotion.

Despite Wanda’s attempt to dismiss her agitation, you could sense the remaining anger beneath her facade. You furrowed your brow, concern etching your features.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.” You insisted gently, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “You stormed in here looking like you were ready to take on an army.”

Wanda’s lips twitched with a hint of amusement, but the weight of her distress remained evident in her features. She hesitated for a moment, exhaling a breath before finally speaking.

“It’s Natasha,” Wanda admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this.”

As much as Wanda wanted to tell you the reason you fell into a coma, she knew that it wasn’t her place to reveal the information without Natasha’s consent. She had to choose her words carefully.

You listened intently, your heart sinking at the mention of Natasha’s name. The complexity of your relationship with her made you feel uncertain and overwhelmed.

How could you be married to someone you couldn’t remember?

“Is Natasha really my wife?” You asked.

You closed your eyes, trying to find any memory that you shared with the woman who was supposedly your wife. But try as you might, your mind remained blank, empty of any intimate or shared memories with the redhead.

Wanda’s expression softened with empathy. “Yes.” She affirmed gently. “Natasha’s your wife.”

“That means you and I… we broke up?” You pressed your lips together, trying not to frown.

“Yeah.” Wanda began, her voice soft but tinged with sadness. "We broke up because I wasn’t ready to become something more. You love Natasha a lot, more than you ever loved me. Even a blind man could see it.”

“Oh.” You sighed, rubbing your thumb over Wanda’s hands. “But… are you sure? Did past me have feelings for you still?”

“Not anymore, Y/N. Your future’s with Natasha now. She loves you a lot and she’s been miserable ever since you got into a coma, so go easy on her, alright?”

Your heart sank at Wanda’s words.

“Alright.” You offered her a bittersweet smile.

A week after waking up, Dr. Cho officially diagnosed you with systematic amnesia. Once you had healed under her careful observation, you were discharged and allowed to return to the home you shared with Natasha. Despite your reluctance to burden her with your care, she was the only one you could depend on. Wanda and the other Avengers had their responsibilities, leaving Natasha as your primary caretaker.

You were still bruising and aching all over, so Natasha assisted you with various miscellaneous tasks, such as managing your medication intake and helping you with showering. Physically, you were improving, but you still couldn’t remember Natasha.

Gradually, you treated her as if she were a stranger. She understood that it wasn’t intentional, but it still tugged at her heartstrings.

The way you flinched whenever she touched you, because she was used to doing it back then when the both of you were together. It pained her deeply. You kept your thoughts and feelings to yourself, not trusting her enough to talk about your feelings. Despite this, outwardly, your interactions with her seemed relatively ‘normal’. The both of you never argued, never fought, and you’d spent time together.

But it still wasn’t the same as it used to be.

Back then, when Natasha would return home from her missions, you’d eagerly rush to her, enveloping her in the tightest hug imaginable and peppering her face with kisses. Now, you greeted her with a tight-lipped smile and a small wave.

In the past, you would cuddle together while watching late-night movies, holding her hand and resting your head on her shoulder. Now, there was a noticeable distance between you, an emotional and physical space that seemed to widen with each passing day.

Natasha tried bringing you to a coffee place — the one she brought you on your first date. You were intrigued, but you still couldn’t remember anything.

Natasha was genuinely happy to see you making progress in your recovery. Yet, beneath that happiness, she was beginning to grow impatient. Your health was improving, but the state of your marriage seemed to deteriorate because you were unable to remember anything about her.

And, one day, Natasha finally reached her breaking point. She had prepared dinner for you, setting the table and waiting patiently on the couch for your return. But you didn’t arrive until three hours later, long after the food had grown cold.

“Where were you?” Natasha’s voice held a sharp edge as she crossed her arms.

You hadn’t mentioned going out, let alone with whom.

“I went out with Wanda for dinner.” You responded casually.

“And you couldn’t text me to let me know?” Natasha’s tone grew more aggressive.

Not only had you essentially stood her up, but you had also gone out with your ex-girlfriend — the same ex-girlfriend you might still harbour feelings for. It was ironic. It felt like the tables had turned. She was the one feeling hurt and frustrated this time.

“My phone was dead. Why are you so angry?” Your voice rose, becoming defensive as you retrieved your phone from your jacket pocket and tossed it onto the dining table.

“Because I made dinner for you.”

“So what? I can have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“That’s not the point. I was waiting for you.” Natasha insisted, her tone laced with frustration.

“And I promise I’ll eat it tomorrow. I’m tired, Natasha. I’m going to bed.” You said dismissively, turning away and walking towards the master bedroom.

There was something else changed, too. Natasha took it upon herself to occupy the guest bedroom while you resided in the master bedroom. It felt like there was a mental and physical separation between the both of you.

It continued for months. Natasha almost wanted to give up, contemplating whether to raise the white flag and accept the bitter truth that you would never remember her at all. The constant arguments between you never seemed to resolve. Instead, they ended with either Natasha or you walking away when things got too heated. With time, Natasha felt like the distance between you grew even more larger. You started coming home late, leaving Natasha disappointed as she waited for you to return. Every dinner she prepared for you went unnoticed, adding to her sense of loneliness and frustration.

Natasha felt as though you had undergone a complete transformation, like someone similar to you but not really, well, you. She was a stranger to you just as you were to her.

You were sitting on a plush chair, engrossed in the pages of a book when she finally accepted defeat. She observed you quietly for a moment, the way you were oblivious to her presence behind her.

“Are we still together?” Natasha asked, her voice breaking the silence.

You looked up to find her standing before you, a mixture of longing and sadness in her gaze.

You closed the book slowly, placing it on the coffee table.

You chuckled bitterly, a touch of sarcasm lacing your words. “Well, legally, I suppose we are.”

Natasha’s heart sank at your response. She had hoped for affection, but instead, she was met with indifference.

“Do you even want us to be together?” Her voice quivered as she spoke.

You studied her momentarily, leaning your head back against the headrest as you looked her up and down. Natasha looked miserable, her cheeks caked with dried tears and dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights.

“I’m sorry, Natasha.” You murmured, sighing. “I just… I don’t think we’re working out.”

Natasha felt her heart drop at your words. She had feared this moment, dreaded the possibility of hearing those words from you. Yet, the reality of it hit her like a sudden blow.

Your voice cracked as you spoke, barely on the verge of tears. “I tried. I really did try to remember you. Remember I came home late because I told you I was spending time with Wanda? I was walking around the places you brought me to, hoping that I’d remember something, anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Natasha asked. Her heart clenched at your words and her tears spill over her cheeks.

“Because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I didn’t want to disappoint you at the end of the day.” You whispered, standing up from the plush chair and walking over to her. You raised your hand to Natasha’s cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your touch. “I want you, but I don’t think I’m in love with you. You deserve better than this, Natasha. You deserve better than me. You’re not in love with me — You were in love with the me before the accident.”

Natasha closed her eyes, leaning into your touch, a silent plea for reassurance. But as you withdrew your hand, the ache of longing remained.

Just like how your love was out of touch.

“We can’t keep pretending, Natasha.” You said softly, your voice tinged with regret. “Maybe it’s time we accept that things have changed.”

With a heavy sigh, you turned away, unable to bear the pain of seeing her heartbreak. It pained you to hurt her, but you knew that prolonging the inevitable would only cause more suffering for both of you.

This time Natasha knew that she had to stop you from leaving somehow. She couldn’t make the same mistake twice. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, not again. Not for the third time.

As you headed towards the door, Natasha’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N, please... don’t go.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when the love you’ve heard from Natasha felt fake. Like it never happened.

You paused for a moment, your hand on the doorknob, before offering a final, pained glance back at Natasha. “I’m sorry, Natasha. Goodbye.”

And with that, you stepped out the door, leaving behind a redhead with a shattered heart.

Maybe in an alternate universe, you could remember her and love her eternally.

#lumi’s fics!#marvel #mcu #the avengers #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #angst #wlw #fanfic #fanfiction

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twoidiotwriters1 · 5 months ago

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Chapter 13. Hyacinths

Summary: "Do not let his reaction affect your opinion of him, and keep in mind that not all of us were born to be innately brave." Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Words: 2,518 Listen to: 'Glue Myself Shut' -by Noah Kahan A/N: Currently enjoying my last day on the beach, I hope you enjoy this <3 -Danny

You arrive fashionably late just in time to hear the toast, at first heartfelt thanks to Colin's talent with words, then disastrous after Eloise and Mrs Featherington take over. You hear snickering from across the circle and your spirits plummet as you spot Benedict and Lady Arnold huddled up and joking together.

"That's it, then," you cling to your sister's arm. "Come, Marie, we ought to thank the hostess for inviting us."

Marie follows you, keeping an eye on Benedict and having the privilege to witness how he chokes on a glass of champagne when he sees you. You reach the group holding Violet Bridgerton, Lady Danbury, a dark-skinned man you don't know, the viscount, and his wife.

"Your Royal Highness!" Violet blushes. "I... Good lord, I wasn't informed you'd be in attendance!"

You smile. "I thought as much."

"Oh, Benedict and his lack of etiquette..." she starts, but you kindly stop her.

"I was invited by your youngest. Where is Hyacinth?"

"Hyacinth?" Asks Anthony Bridgerton. When you look at him, he introduces himself and his wife, a beautiful lady of around the same age as Paula. "I do beg you forgive my sister, she shouldn't have—"

"Oh, I think her utterly divine," you interrupt him. "My sister and I love Hyacinth, and we were pleased to receive her invitation—we were longing to have an excuse to leave the castle and see her again."

"Not that your Queen isn't nice," Marie adds. "But... well, she doesn't go out much, does she?"

There are chuckles of agreement before Kate—the viscountess—gestures to the stairs. "You are welcome to join us for our game of charades, but if you wish to greet Hyacinth first, I believe she is somewhere around the upper floors, playing with her brother and other young guests."

"I believe manners oblige us to see our friend first and foremost," you reply jokingly before excusing yourself.

"Once you return, Your Royal Highness," Lady Danbury speaks, giving you a look. "I shall like a word with you, if you can grant me the honours?"

You hold back your nerves, gifting her with a graceful nod. "You may have them."

Marie scoffs once you make your way upstairs. "What does she want, to gloat in her knowledge?"

"She may offer advice," you respond. "She's close to the family, and I'm in need of clarity."

"You have clarity," Marie rolls her eyes. "The man got scared the moment he saw you had control of your desires, and that's that."

"I don't know," you make a face, "it doesn't feel that way, and I know I sin of gullible, but there were things that he... a person can't lie in the ways he seemed genuine."

Your sister frowns. "I don't understand."

"Doesn't matter," you brush it off, hearing the youthful chatter from the hall to your right. "He's with Lady Arnold tonight, I won't get anything from him, so let's focus on having fun."

Benedict is waiting for Tilley to enter the drawing room when Kate approaches from the side. "Did you know your Princess is here?"

Benedict is too fond of Kate to answer with any kind of bite. "Last I checked I owned no Princess. Perhaps you refer to my employer?"

Kate eyes him intently. "Hyacinth and Eloise called her your friend. Gregory was even jealous of your closeness."

"You know they like their fancies," he offers a tight smile.

"Perhaps, but Hyacinth hates to be wrong and she rarely shares information she's not confirmed beforehand." Noticing the weight that seems to suffocate his lively personality, she places a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Is something troubling you, brother?"

He lets out a short-lived chuckle and stares at his drink. "I'm not sure I should speak of it with one of my sisters."

Kate raises a brow. "Have you done something to offend her?"

"I'm afraid so."

"In what way?"

He shakes his head. "In the most foolish way possible."

"Has that something to do with Tilley's attendance this evening?"

"I acted foolishly and committed to the part," is all he answers.

Kate twists her mouth in slight disapproval. "I will not pretend to know even a third of what's transpired, but I can tell you care for the Princess. You Bridgertons are terrible at hiding your emotions."

"We are good at hiding things from one another," he says. "And now that you're one of us, unfortunately, that means I shan't say a thing to you."

"Would you like some advice nonetheless?" She proposes kindly. "She is thoughtful and amicable, I'm sure whatever caused the disagreement can be solved if you are sincere."

Benedict shows her an ironic smile. "Now, sister, the problem with that, is I am too fond of lying."

As you return from the kids's room, Lady Danbury stands on your path, leaning on her cane. "Princess Y/N, may I have a moment?"

You sigh, letting go of Marie and encouraging her to go. "I won't take long." You walk into the drawing room with Lady Danbury on your arm. "If you wish to chastise me, you better do so now that I'm in a good mood, for I won't be as forgiving in a couple of minutes when my attitude sours."

Lady Danbury chuckles, patting your arm. "You have a feisty soul. Queen Charlotte was just like you at your age."

"So was my mother, from what I've heard," you add, feeling rather pleased to share such an important thing with other Queens.

"A fine woman. Pity I didn't get to befriend her," Lady Danbury hums. "How is your great-grandmother?"

"Still recovering, but all looks well," you inform her. "Thank you for asking."

"And your brothers?"

"They're morality personified," you give her a little grin. "Both are doing well."

"Good..." she lowers her voice. "You know, the Queen's brother asked me to marry him once."

You look at her, sensing where this is going. "Oh?"

"I said no, obviously, and it wounded him, though just a little, for royal blood is hard to bruise," the woman glances at you. "I wasn't cut out to be a consort. Too independent, you see. Too defiant. Some may say unreliable."

You sigh and lower your gaze. "Lady Danbury, I did not mean to insult you..."

"This isn't about me, child," she cuts off with a sharp click of her tongue, "I only mean to give you some perspective on how that Bridgerton boy must be feeling."

You look at her as if she's gone mad. "You think I asked him to marry me?"

"Of course not, you're not dimwitted!" She exclaims. "I do believe, however, that you might've spooked him. Royals have little tact, having no experience being snubbed or ignored, your attitude when approaching certain delicate subjects is... too forward."

You frown, unable to argue with her. You had, after all, pounced on Benedict at the first chance you got. She senses your agreement to her statement and continues.

"I know you are an intelligent lady, so I won't worry about the kind of things that may have occurred, or what you may have told him to ruffle him so—and to see Benedict in such an agitated state is rare—but hear this: he is fond of you. Do not let his reaction affect your opinion of him, and keep in mind that not all of us were born to be innately brave."

She gives your hand a gentle pat before parting. Not even a second has gone by before someone else walks up to you to start a conversation. "Lady Arnold," you greet her, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. Your heart threatens to leap out of your chest but then subsides when you notice she's alone.

"Your Royal Highness," she smiles. "What a lovely surprise. It is not common for future monarchs to attend this kind of party, I'm sure you know."

You let out a bashful chuckle. "So I've heard. The truth is that we are quite social in my country, we attend all kinds of events, more so if a friend invites us, and I was invited."

"By Benedict?"

"His sister Hyacinth. I don't know if you know her?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, I'd be surprised if you did. I was rather lucky, you see, she's not out in society yet, but she's a lovely lady and Benedict brought her to me once so we could meet."

Tilley hums, nodding appreciatively at your explanation. "You've grown rather close to his family, if Lady Whistledown is to be believed at all."

"In that, she is quite correct," you concede. "The Bridgertons were the first family to offer me friendship."

"Benedict, first and foremost, correct?"

You sense there is something else to the question, and you think back on that first meeting and how hostile the interaction was between the woman and Benedict. "You seem troubled by the idea. May I know what's so strange about it?"

"Well, it's not that Benedict isn't charming enough to befriend a princess," she starts politely, "forgive me, but what baffles me is how... protective of you he is."

You tilt your head in confusion and laugh a bit. "Protective?"

"I know him well," she continues, "Benedict is a... friendly man, yes. Quite loving if you manage to decipher him—but I'd never seen him act the way he did that day, when you tripped." You blush at the memory. "Usually he gets his fun from watching the chaos unfold from the sidelines, but not that time."

"I'm sorry, I don't think I understand what you're telling me..."

"Not much, really," Tilley admits, with the openness of a woman who knows her chance has come and gone. "I'm telling you he's decided that there's something in you worth troubling himself with. The spotlight you carry everywhere you go, he tends to detest it, yet he clings to you. I'd recommend you to cherish it."

"You know," you say, unable to keep your countenance any longer. "I don't understand why I'm the one being cornered this way when I was not the one to walk away. Lady Arnold, I don't know what he may have told you—"

"He didn't tell me anything," she hurries to clarify, reddening at how you're reacting to her good-natured attempt to help. "I do beg you not to resent him for my boldness. I came to you simply because I know my friend, and ever since you walked in tonight he has been nothing but a most pathetic rendition of woe."

You look away a moment, trying to spot him. "Yes, well, it was entirely his doing."

"I have no doubt," she responds with such certainty you focus on her once more. "There was a time in which I, too, thought I had him. But Benedict, he..." she gives you a tired smile, "well, he had just discovered himself and was eager to dive deeper into those uncharted waters... places I could not follow."

You feel like there is something hidden between those lines, something you should care about deeply, but whatever it is, Lady Arnold doesn't share enough for you to fully grasp it.

Hell breaks loose when the Viscount and Viscountess announce they are expecting, then Cressida Cowper announces she's Lady Whistledown, and lastly, Penelope Featherington faints without warning.

Your sister goes to fetch a doctor accompanied by Anthony. Colin and Lady Danbury's brother carry Penelope to a couch, while Cressida is swarmed up by guests as they all get escorted to the exit by Benedict and Tilley.

Eloise takes her younger siblings to their rooms while Francesca walks her suitor to the front gate. Lady Danbury makes sure the family is all right before taking her brother and departing, not without asking if you'd like a ride, but you decline politely, wanting to wait there for your sister.

While Colin, Violet, Lady Featherington and Kate stay with Penelope, you go to the servants and ask them to bring salts, though you preferably request strong liquor if they have it, and they quickly go away to fetch it. Kate walks past you letting you know she's going to check on the younger Bridgertons and asks if you'd like to come, but you decline the offer once again, wanting to be there when your sister shows up.

Benedict ensures everyone has gotten to their carriages safely and in one piece, including Lady Arnold. He reenters the home, sees you at the foot of the stairs pacing from one side to the other, and ponders whether he should approach you.

A maid calls for you and you point her in the direction she ought to take the bottle of gin. Just then, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye, spotting Benedict near the entrance. It's just the two of you here, everyone else tidying up the home while tending to Penelope. You wait a second, wondering what he'll do.

He bows. "I'm sorry I didn't greet you sooner, Your Royal Highness."

You frown. "You could try saying something believable."

"Beg your pardon?" He matches your expression.

"You could've said 'I'm sorry I missed an evening of your mishaps'—which by the way, weren't many. I almost tossed a chess set into Gregory's fireplace when I went to say hi, and then elbowed a flower vase while conversing with your sister Eloise, but that's it. I do not believe you're sorry for keeping your distance."

Benedict stares at you, then scoffs, an unwilling grin forming on his face, crooked and small. "I'm sorry you missed Gregory wearing a top hat, then."

"Ah, that I believe," you offer a tiny smile of your own. "Thank you. I'm sorry you and I seemed to be on opposite sides of the sphere this evening. But I was well-accompanied nonetheless, I'm sure you'll be happy to hear that."

"I am," he moves closer to you, "I saw your sister."

"I told you she wouldn't say no, and she'll be glad she didn't, considering the chaos we witnessed a few minutes ago."

"Yes, wasn't that something?" He agrees, picking up his pace to reach you faster and gossip properly. "I do not believe for a second Cressida Cowper is Lady Whistledown, that woman is as witty as a fish!"

You grin, unable to resist him. "Dolphins are rather clever."

His eyes flash with excitement at your slip. "I said fish, not mammals."

You open your mouth to argue, but realizing he's right, you close it back up and lower your gaze, a little reticent smile on display. "Touché."

Benedict tilts his head, searching to lock eyes with you. "Not every day you get outwitted in your own game, hm?"

You lift your gaze, finding his only inches away from yours. Benedict freezes, realizing he's too close but unable to step back because your eyes demand him not to. You lean forward, listening to the way his breath hitches—

"We're here!" Marie calls out as she and Anthony return with the doctor. "Where is she?"

Benedict is already ten steps away when you look up. "Upstairs, in the drawing room," you step forward. "I'll take you."

"No need, Your Royal Highness," Anthony says, giving you a grateful nod. "You should go back to the castle and rest, you and your sister have done much for us already."

"I'll go and say our goodbyes to the family," Marie gives you a significant look, which can only mean she saw what was happening just before entering, and she'll demand a retelling of the entire interaction. "You can fetch our carriage."

"I'll fetch it for you," Benedict says quickly, walking out of the house once more. This time, you follow.

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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#twoidiots writing #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton #Bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #Bridgerton x Princess Diaries crossover #TPD fic

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reidsrambles · 9 months ago

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Something More and Second Chances

Chapter 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader // Second chance

Description: You're stunned when your former friends with benefits shows up at your new job—and nearly a decade after you ghosted him. It turns out, he works in the same building, and he definitely hasn't forgotten about you. Will your apologies be enough? What happens if he does forgive you? Does time truly heal all wounds? (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, friends with benefits, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, condomless sex, IUD birth control, mention of abortion (in the context of being on the same page prior to sex), riding, soft dom M, praise kink F.

This fic is quite emotionally heavy, and both Spencer and Reader delve deep into past traumas. None is current. If any of these topics may be triggering or upsetting to you, please skip this one: child abuse, child abandonment, attachment issues, foster care, adoption, CPS, bullying, trust issues, mental health issues, misunderstandings, ghosting, and Reader mentions that she possibly committed emotional infidelity in the past, thinking about Spencer while with another partner.

A/N: This is my (very late) fic for @imagining-in-the-margins's FWB challenge! Life's been a bit crazy lately. Your girl now has a boyfriend who takes up a lot of her time. 🥹👉👈

Names used: Baby, good girl

Words (this chapter): 1,706

Words (total): 12,462

There’s only one person you had hoped to never face again in this lifetime, and he’s standing a mere twenty feet in front of you.

You hear him before you see him. His laugh echoes off the walls of the large, airy library, and the normal hushed murmur goes silent in response. Working the front desk today, you have nowhere to hide.

A flush sweeps across his cheeks as he scans the room. A few people at tables nearby lift their heads but lower them just as quickly. Nobody can be bothered to care. Nobody except you.

As you wait for his gaze to fall upon your face, time lags to a snail’s pace. An inescapable cataclysm of fate.

This must be punishment for some unspeakable crime committed in a past lifetime. Or maybe this is just karma biting you in the ass? It has to be. How else could he be here? This place is locked down like Fort Knox.

He bounces on his feet, looking at the floor. Left, right, left, right. He was never that good at staying still, especially when nervous. An FBI badge dangling from his belt loop catches your attention as he shifts. A firearm is holstered at his hip on the other side of his body.

He belongs here.

“Okay, Garcia. Well, I just got down here, so I’ll call you back once I find it,” he says quietly.

Realization crosses his face as soon as his eyes land on you. The thump of the kick drum in your chest rattles your body, and everything in your peripheral fades until all that exists is him.

He presses his lips together and slides his cell phone into his pocket.

The last time you saw those lips, you traced the crease of his dimple with your finger, without hurry. Early morning sun. His sleepy smile. He was so happy. The soft, thin cotton bed sheet draped over your naked bodies, and Spencer looked at you like you were his everything; his worshipping stare turned you translucent.

The light caught his face, and the blue-green of his eyes glistened with an auric sheen. As you watched the dance of color, a vice grip tightened around your rib cage. In that one brief moment, something clicked within you.

How hadn’t you seen it before?

A newfound clarity painted him maroon. A flag waved in warning. That was the morning you left without another word. That was the morning you had to accept that, for his sake and yours, you’d never be able to see Spencer Reid again.

This has to be some sick joke.

You snap out of your daze and look at the new Academy recruit standing in front of the desk, still patiently waiting for an answer to his question. “I’m so sorry about that. I had completely lost my train of thought,” you laugh, trying to maintain your professionalism.

“So, on the lower level,” you continue briskly, “is the law library. That’s where you’ll find law books, periodicals, and any government documents. Those have to be used in-library, though, and you can’t check them out. Older, more sensitive documents—and anything requiring special authorization—are kept in climate-controlled, locked storage, so you’d have to inquire with one of us regarding any of those items. The 2nd floor is where we keep any books designated for leisure reading. Other than that, if you need help to locate anything, you can come ask me or any of my colleagues.”

Wow. Practicing that little spiel in the mirror like the dweeb you are did actually help.

You beam a smile at the kid, no older than his early-20s. To your relief, he thanks you and walks away.

You don’t have to wonder if Spencer recognizes you. He hasn’t looked away yet.

The library’s front desk is a stocky, rectangular enclosure, dwarfed by the grandeur of the sunlight-soaked atrium. The large skylights battle it out with the building’s air-conditioning, and even though it’s a cool fall day, you have to continuously blot the dampness from your forehead to save your makeup. Suddenly, you’re far too warm for your usual blazer, though. You stand and drape the jacket over your office chair.

Still warm as an oven, you pass behind your coworker, Sarah, the other librarian working the front desk with you today, and place a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m going to be right back. Can you cover for me for a few?” you whisper.

“Only if you cover for me later so I can get an extra smoke break in,” she says, not bothering to look away from the email she’s writing.

You shake your head. “Sure, whatever. Fine.”

A half door built-in to the large, rectangular desk is all that separates you from the rest of the library. You walk, but Spencer remains parked until you look at him, finally acknowledging him. You jerk your head to the side, gesturing for him to follow you, and his feet finally start.

Ironically, you met Spencer in a library. Loving parents funded your English Lit degree and living expenses—not that you ever lived anything but frugally. All through undergrad, you worked in the university’s library, pushing your little book cart around and putting things back where they belonged. All your paychecks went straight into a savings account. Your parents would eventually tire of you, and you’d be left high and dry, you’d assumed, though you never let that thought escape your subconscious.

“Who’s the lanky nerd in the corner?” your new 18-year-old, first-year coworker whispered far too loudly. She had a bad habit of being extremely blunt, you’d quickly learned.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “He’s been here most days either working or reading. Doesn’t seem to have any friends. Joann said he’s some freaky genius on his 3rd PhD, but he always puts his own books back, so I’ve never had to deal with him.” You grabbed another book and returned it to its home on the shelf, hoping that if you didn’t look her way, she’d drop the conversation. Quietly escaping into your own thoughts while shelving was your respite. It was serenity… Until she showed up.

“Hey, freaky genius guy,” she whisper-yelled, somehow getting his attention, “my coworker thinks you’re cute!”

Yeah, she only lasted two weeks in that position before the librarians had enough of her antics.

You mouthed an angry and confused “What the fuck?” to her before going to apologize. He was so awkward, but he did try to keep the conversation going. An enigma. Maybe the loner didn’t want to be so lonely? In regular chats, you learned a bit more about the guy. Though, on the surface, you had very little in common, you and Spencer ended up being better matched than previously thought, and you became fast friends.

The conversation shifted from classic literature to niche science topics that shouldn’t have interested you, but his passion was infectious enough to capture you. He taught you how to play chess, and you’d sneak over to his table mid-shift to get a few turns in at a time. You always lost to him, but you liked the challenge and started skimming chess books at the library for different plays. One day, he related something in the conversation to Star Wars. When you admitted to never having seen any of them, it led to the first of many movie nights at your place. He showed up with his personal copy of A New Hope and a big bag of popcorn.

Those horrid two weeks of babysitting the coworker were good for something, at least. It was strange, but nice, to have a friend.

Beep, the card reader chimes. The green light flashes, and you push into an empty conference room of the library. Spencer follows you inside, putting a solid five-feet of distance between you.

“Hi,” is all you say. The forced chirpiness of your customer service voice is on its last legs, only a single word into this conversation. A trip to the gynecologist for a pap smear would be more fun than a conversation with a man whose heart you smashed into a million pieces like a fucking coward.

Spencer gestures to the badge on your lanyard with a flick of his head. “You, uh—work here?”

Taking the badge between your fingers, you quickly examine it. Your mugshot-esque headshot and the required stone-cold expression are in direct contrast to the radiant smile and cheery disposition you paint on while at work. You’ve seen FBI badges on TV and in the movies, and even though yours signifies you belong to the Library and Information Services department, it still feels odd to be wearing it.

“I do, yeah. Just started two weeks ago, actually.”

He nods, rocking back and forth on his heels. Your performative amiability slips from your grasp. False pleasantries won’t work with Spencer.

“Look,” you add, “we don’t have to interact after this, if you don’t want to. One of the other librarians can help you or check you out when you stop by, if that makes you more comfortable.”

“You’re a librarian?” he asks; less like a question and more like a stunning realization.

After you left Spencer’s apartment a decade ago, you packed up the essentials and drove eight hours home. You took leave from school, but you’re sure classmates and acquaintance assumed that you dropped out, and with only a few months left of your degree. You didn’t just cut contact with Spencer; You cut contact with everyone.

“No,” he continues, “it’s not that. It’s just… I have so much I want to say and no idea how to say it all. I obviously wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

You keep your focus directed at the sting of your nails pressing into your palm as you attempt to steady your breathing. Work isn’t an ideal place to be crying, attempting to apologize for all the pain you caused.

“Do you want to grab a coffee sometime and talk?” you ask sheepishly.

“I happen to be free tonight after work, if that’s good for you?”

“Yeah, I think I can make that work,” you nod, flashing him a shy smile.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

AO3 | Tumblr | Masterlist

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #mgg #matthew gray gubler #reidsrambles-writes

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icyg4l · 1 year ago

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PAC: Energy Check-In

Hello beautiful people! I have been so inconsistent with posting. Thank you all for your patience. But anyway, tonight's reading will consist of an energy check-in. We all need one, even me! Also, the Five Dollar Friday Sale will still happen! It will take place from 12 AM-11PM. Thank you guys so much for your support! Don't forget to check out the guidelines before booking with me. Dm me privately if you have any questions. Without further ado, please select your pile!

Left-to-Right: (1-3)

Pile One: I feel like you are currently trying to figure out what to do with yourself. I heard "I got so much energy!" in my head. Your sacral chakra is booming. I feel like you could be super horny or feeling like you need to create something. But you are trying to figure out a way to do this in an appropriate manner. The solution will come quick. There could be a partnership coming your way that will allow you to be more free flowing. It is essential at this time that you find ways to express yourself. Do not feed into self-limiting beliefs. You are prone to making impulsive decisions like dying your hair late at night or buying clothes that you won't even put on a year from now. Focus on what will fulfill you in the long run and stop trying to scratch an unscratchable itch. It will make you see things much easier.

Cards Used: 8 of Swords, 5 of Swords, The Hierophant, Ace of Wands, 8 of Wands, Queen of Wands.

Pile Two: Someone has you feeling real good. Princess treatment will do that to you. When you have the right people around you, you feel unstoppable. I heard "Who you feeling like?" in my head. Right now, you could be receiving lots of compliments, which boost your morale as a result. I am seeing a young girl toss her hair from side to side with her fingertips. In the back of your mind, you may worry about how long this version of you will last. You need to not allow the past comments of hate get to you at this time. Do not self-sabotage yourself because people could not see the light in you. Let the haters do the hating for you. You could have Saturn in the 12th house which relates to the subconscious. You need to have conversations with your inner child to heal. Move forward from the angst and the hurt people have caused you. Start anew. And most importantly, forgive yourself.

Cards Used: Ace of Wands, 2 of Cups, 10 of Cups, King of Discs, 4 of Cups, The Devil, 6 of Cups.

Pile Three: You are in this lover girl energy. It almost feels familiar --- the scenario that you have found yourself to be in. You need to look closer with this person. Everyone will pass your test if you don't do any further investigation. You have the tendency to get "stuck on" crushes for a long time. You could be prone to limerence. You are going to get the answer that you are looking for, a reality check. But it will be in your best interest, don't worry. You are trying to investigate from afar but this won't really benefit you. You need to pay close attention and start being less lenient. You're a cute girl and you know that, don't you? But what is cute if it means you lose your mind every time you find someone attractive? Part of your lesson in this life is to be more comfortable with accepting your beauty as is. You are not incomplete if you are not in an "OTP", love.

Cards Used: The Moon, The Empress, 4 of Discs, 4 of Wands, 10 of Cups, 5 of Wands, Justice, 2 of Discs

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vprosper · 6 months ago

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Slightly edited Clive Rosfield x reader porn. Had to get it out of my head, so here you go. Might edit and include in the AO3 fanfic I'm currently writing.

Warnings/tags; BDSM, Edging, Vaginal sex, forced blowjob, dirty talk If you're not 18+, please don't read, it's filthy.

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Overworked

“...Clive…” You pleaded, but he was having none of it. His arms crossed, he looked down at you. Arms tied behind your back, and thighs to your shins, you were laying on your bed, a blindfold snugly wrapped around your head. “I’ve warned you multiple times, Y/N.” He replied, not moving an inch.

Rebuilding Rosaria had come with the needed work, and you had both been extremely busy with getting things moving. Clive is overseeing most of the reconstruction, amassing the right funding and directing the right expertise where it needed to be. You on the other hand, would help with the actual reconstruction itself. You had read up on architecture and building houses in general. You had no problems with physical work being fully recovered, and were helping building houses and shops daily. This resulted in the current predicament. You were often home late, and too tired to spend time with Clive. It used to be the other way around, but Clive had learned from his past mistakes and always left enough time in the day for you. The last months you had brushed him off multiple times, and when he had seen you out drinking with some of the male workers and coming back home smashed, he’d snapped. “I’m not sure if you have been doing this on purpose, knowing your masochistic needs, but you’re not getting off easy this time.” Clive said, his brows furrowed. Not that you could see that. In any case, you’d sobered up quickly. “I’m allowed to drink with other people, aren’t I? Is it because they were male? Are you jealous?” You retorted. You made Clive’s blood boil, your hypocrisy beyond his understanding. “Jealous? Is that what you’re getting from this? Do you realize what you’ve been doing for the past months?” You were not taking pleasure from this, as you struggled with your restraints. “I’ve been trying to help rebuild Rosalith!” You exclaimed. Clive growled. “Working twelve hours a day, just eating, drinking, and sleeping left, is that your plan? While I deliberately plan my work to be with you? Y/N, what’s gotten into you?! It used to be the other way around!” He raised his voice, desperately trying to make you understand him.

“...The sooner it’s done, the faster we can spend our lives together.” You replied after a moment of silence. “Aren’t we already?” Clive said angrily. He wasn’t getting through to you. But yes, he had been jealous. He would never admit that to you, but when you were out drinking, he saw you smile and joke. Something the both of you hadn’t done for a long time. Rosalith wasn’t going to be rebuilt in a day, and you were both committed to seeing his old home restored. You gave him the silent treatment, and Clive sighed. Seeing you naked made him hard as always, but he wanted you to beg for forgiveness. He took out the heated lubricant, courtesy of Gav, and generously coated his hand with it. “...L-like this?” You had recognized the sound, and were panicking slightly. This could’ve been one of your fantasies, if you weren’t angry with Clive right now. Couldn’t he see that you were pouring your heart in this? That you were doing it for him? He’d tricked you by some filthy words in your ear, but when you were splayed out on the bed, you realized that this was a punishment. “I called you in sick today.” Clive said casually, getting on top of you, straddling your hips. “Perhaps you should’ve not been drinking so much.” He added, groping your breasts. He coated your hard nipples with the lubricant, twisting and pulling however he pleased. Coaxing a moan out of you, Clive smirked. “Enjoying yourself?” You refused to answer him. He didn’t mind.

Clive had the whole day to get you to understand. He continued to toy with your flesh for a bit longer before he got off of you to move somewhere else. You already felt the lubricant tinge on your chest, sending warm waves through your body. Another squeeze of the bottle. “You don’t need to answer me, you’re already staining the sheets.” Clive chuckled. He knew you well enough by now. Going straight for your clit, he massaged the heat straight in. Your hips buckled, your body spasming to his touch. “A-h!” Clive held you down on your stomach with one hand, inserting two digits between your wet folds. With your eyesight gone, the waves of pleasure hit you twice as hard. You had no idea what was coming next. Clive started pumping you with three fingers, fast and hard while the other hand still circled your clit. You moaned loudly. “I’m-” Before your orgasm could hit you, Clive removed his fingers. “J-jerk.” You whined, the heat subsiding quickly. Still, your body burned from the lubricant, and your sensitive spots were getting assaulted without Clive doing anything. “Let me quote you on this, sweetheart; Only good girls get to cum.” Clive said darkly.

You groaned in response. You’d tied Clive up once. Seeing how he’d react. His arms behind the back of the chair, that same blindfold you had on you over his eyes. You’d almost made him cum then with your hands and mouth before you moved away. You had told him the same thing then, until he was begging for a release. You groaned in frustration. Clive smirked. “Please, let me cum.” You asked, body slightly trembling. “These ropes hurt.” “Earn it.” Was Clive’s only reply.

He undid the leather strings from his pants, taking out his half-hard cock. He shuddered slightly when he smeared your slick on his reddened tip. You felt his weight on you again. A knee on each side of your head, Clive rubbed his cock over your lips. A few pumps before he gripped the headboard of the bed to steady himself. Clive grinned when you were hesitant to open your mouth. “You know how this goes, sweetheart.” He swore he could feel you roll your eyes. You liked to challenge him. And even in this position, you were dead set on not cooperating. His now stiff cock hung above you, and your reddened cheeks made him want you even more. He pinched your nose with his free hand, cutting off your air until you opened your mouth. Then it was just a matter of grabbing your jaw and making space. “Ugh!” You gagged when Clive pushed as far as he could. “That’s it.” He growled, grabbing a fist of your silvery white hair. Your tongue was warm, his length grinding over it. He facefucked you with abandon, like there was no tomorrow, his hips thrusting fast. He admired your face, tears running down below the blindfold, snot running from your nose down to the side of your face, and drool from the corners of your mouth as he pushed deep inside you. He groaned, not far off from letting you taste a load of his cum. But he stopped before reaching that point, seeing that you were going to choke.

“Guhh…” You panted, trying to return oxygen to your lungs. Your body was still twitching from heat, but it just wasn’t enough to get anywhere. You growled in frustration. Clive was treating you like a damned cocksleeve. You let out a delighted whine when Clive pushed his cock straight into your gushing folds. “Ffuck!” Only to be disappointed with how deliberately slow he was. The even slower circles on your sensitive nub. “Please..” You cried out, a real plea this time. “Come on sweetheart, you need to be able to take what you dish out.” Clive teased, slipping out of you before teasing his tip at your entrance again. “I apologized for that, didn’t I?” Your voice was hoarse. Clive rewarded you with a full thrust, his hands on your hips. You cried out in surprise, new tears running off your cheeks. “I could leave you like this and go back to work. And when I return we could start all over again.” Clive threatened, in contrast to the gentle massaging of your hips with his thumbs.

You shook your head quickly, not looking forward to hours of being on edge, never able to get off. Clive got out of you again, this time flipping you over. Your face was pressed into the sheets, the only thing keeping you stable with your arms snuggly tied on your back. Your knees were steadying you, your plump ass presented to Clive. “Ahhh…” You felt Clive fill you up again, and your toes curled up. “You take me so well.” Clive commented, feeling you clench around him. He didn’t move, so you made a futile attempt to move your hips. You got a devilish laugh in response. “You’re so desperate for me, Y/N. I didn’t know, seeing you’re spending so much time away.” “Please Clive… I never meant it like that..” You stuttered, small sobs in between. “Easy to say… when you’re at my mercy right now.” Clive responded, a firm grip on your hips again.

His gaze landed on the scars on your muscular back. Your silvery hair cascaded onto the pillows, as he pounded you deeper into the sheets. He took the bottle of lubricant again, squeezing more of the substance on his thumb. “..Clive! Not there-” Your begging was drowned out by the squelching sounds of Clive’s thrusts, still nowhere near fast enough. A thumb rubbed you puckered asshole, the last place Clive hadn’t been yet. He pushed his thumb in, granting him numerous pained swearing. With a bit of movement and shoving himself deeper in your tight cunt again, those turned into debaucherous moans. And then multiple knocks on your front door. You both froze in place. “Fuck.” Clive swore, ripping himself away from you. Quickly, he pulled up his pants and made himself presentable for the person that had decided to crash his party.

Opening the door revealed a stressed out Sir Wade. “Clive, you need to come quick-” Clive snorted in response, the wording unfortunate. “Why, what happened?” He saw the worried look on his friend’s face. “They’re fighting on the square, I-” He internally cursed, understanding why Wade had knocked on his door. “Who is fighting exactly?” He tried. “A few of the carpenters with the stonemasons. Something about workload… We need to do something.” You could hear the muffled conversation at the door. Your breath was heavy, your body still aching for release. But at that moment you understood what Clive had meant. “I’m sorry Wade. Y/N is not feeling well, and I’m afraid she’ll get worse. I… want to help, but I’m not the right person at the moment. Have you checked with Oscar? If you can get them to split, I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” Compared to your time at the Hideaway, Clive would never even think about refusing Sir Wade. He would do it all and be exhausted at the end of the day. Just like you. You rolled over to your side, your knees no longer able to hold you up.

The door opened a few minutes later. Clive stared at you, you parted lips, sweaty skin, twitching pussy. The conversation with Wade had put a hold on his mood, but the moment he laid eyes on you again, his pants became too tight. “...I’m sorry…” You whimpered, just before Clive wanted to apologize. “What?” He asked, climbing on the bed to remove your blindfold. Tear stained eyes looked at him, and his previous anger vanished. “You’re right… I should’ve been more mindful about it.” You continued, voice still hoarse. “I should’ve talked about it with you.” While Clive had changed, you didn’t mean to fill in the gaps. You really didn’t. But it happened, and the both of you let it continue until this seemed the only solution. “Thank you, Y/N. That’s all I need.” He discarded the fabric, his eyes not leaving you. “Shall I untie you?” “Clive… Please… I need you to finally let me cum! It’s been hours, I can’t-” The dark haired man smirked. He moved back in front of you, pushing your knees further out. “How do you want me to do it?” Clive asked, that devilish smirk never leaving his face. He needed you to say it.

You groaned. “You fucking villain.” You replied, glaring at him. He didn’t move, so you slightly panicked. “...Your cock. Please…” Clive saw your eyes roll back when he pushed his stiff length in your wet cunt again. The sloppy noises from his hard thrusting sounded like music in his ears. Your moans his favorite song. “Don’t hold back my love.” He groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly again. “Oh Founder-” You felt the heat pooling in your stomach. “Harder!” You begged, and Clive happily obeyed, rubbing your clit in fast circles with his thumb. And when that orgasm came, which it inevitably did, your body tensed up so hard that Clive winced. “Ahhhh!” You exclaimed, not able to hold back.

The ropes kept you contained, and your walls clenched Clive so hard he immediately came with a loud groan. “Fuck.” He’d wanted it to last a little longer, riding out your highs as hard as he could. But you were on the brink of consciousness, and it was time to remove your restraints. Still he took his sweet time as he was panting heavily, his spent gushing out of you. “Are you okay?” He asked, a little worried as you were still not moving. Your chest heaved up and down, and you gave a small nod. He planted a kiss on your hair, like he always did after the two of you were intimate. “I’ll prepare a bath.” Clive said after he freed you. “T-Thanks.” You replied shakily. “...You still love me, right?” You asked, worried about the anger you felt from him a while ago. “Hmmm? Of course. Even with dried up snot on your face. That will never change.” His words were gentle as he joked, and you could only smile in response. “You even get bonus points for looking hot while your pussy is dripping with my cum.” “You’re a filthy man, you know that?” You were both grinning. “As I recall, I told you I wasn’t a saint. Same as you, I suppose.” “Yeah, fair. I’ll need a massage from you, my joints are aching.” You said, grin wider while you sat up. Not a saint, still a wonderful husband. Clive smiled, nodding without having to think about it. “I’d love to.”

#clive rosfield x reader #final fantasy 16 x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #clive ff16 x reader #clive ffxvi x reader #clive x reader #smut

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wintersoldiersoul · 2 years ago

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I should hate you

A/N: So this is kind of unintentionally becoming a series??? I'll prob make one more part to this if you guys want it! Part 2 to Tolerate It

Another night of sleep escaping you. Tossing and turning in your bed once again, as you replayed the conversation you had with Bucky, two weeks ago.

You had seen the pain in his eyes that day. The way that he hated himself for what he had done, but he had truly believed that it was what was best.

You were proud of yourself for how you had reacted. It would have been so easy to fall back under his spell, to instantly forgive him and just run back into his arms. But as badly as you wanted that, you knew you couldn’t. For your own sake, you needed time.

What if it happened again? What if on another mission something went wrong and Bucky did the same thing? You couldn’t put yourself through that again. His actions had made you hate yourself. Even now, when you knew the truth there was still a little voice in the back of your head saying that it was all your fault. You wondered how Bucky could ever say those things to you, real or not. You didn’t understand how he could put you through so much pain, even if he truly believed it was for your own good. You couldn’t just take him back so easily. But you also couldn’t hate him.

To his credit, Bucky gave you space. He didn’t text or call or bombard you whenever you were in each other’s presence at the tower. He knew you well enough to know that you would come to him when you were ready.

There was one part of the conversation though, that weighed heavily on your mind. “A week before that mission, you were browsing engagement rings,” Steve had said to Bucky. Was that true? Was Bucky really planning on proposing to you? It felt like that life, the one you had built with him, existed on a completely different timeline than your current one.

You had been staying in your bedroom at the tower for the past week. Being in the apartment you used to share with Bucky hurt too much. You were too overwhelmed with pain that you couldn’t think clearly about what to do. Plus, Bucky was on a mission so you knew he wouldn’t be around for a few days at least.

Giving up on sleep and in need of a late night snack, you headed to the kitchen. As you opened the cabinet, you spotted a box of pancake mix sitting front and center. Your mind was immediately flooded with images of Bucky cooking in your kitchen. He made you pancakes every saturday, always making it a point for the two of you to sit and have breakfast together and catch up after your insanely busy weeks.

The memories broke you. God, you missed him so much. The pain was physical, a constant tightness in your chest preventing you from breathing. You couldn’t control the sob that escaped as your knees gave out and you crumbled to the floor of the kitchen. You had gotten used to crying alone.

Time didn’t exist as you sobbed, arms wrapped around yourself. You didn’t know if it had been 3 minutes or 3 hours when the elevator opened. You didn’t even hear it. You didn’t register Bucky’s footsteps as he approached you, still in his suit from the mission he had just returned from. You didn’t even know he was there until you felt his arms around you. How ironic that the man comforting you was the reason you were crying in the first place.

He wanted to give you space but he couldn’t do it anymore. Not when you were broken and alone on the kitchen floor at 4 in the morning.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, stroking your hair. You didn’t fight him off. Didn’t tell him to leave. Just for a minute you needed to let yourself be weak. His own tears started to fall as he held you. He hated that he had caused you so much pain. That the broken state you were in was his fault. “Y/N, look at me. Please.”

You shook your head. “No. I can’t,” you answered, fighting for breath in between your sobs.

He sighed, trying to curb his tears. “I know you hate me,”

“Hate you?” You interrupted. “I wish I hated you! I should hate you! I wish more than anything in the entire world that I only felt anger towards you. I would do anything to hate you!” You finally found the strength to look in his eyes. They were so full of pain and longing.

“Can I make you some tea? C-can we just sit together for a little bit? It doesn’t have to mean anything but just,” he ran his hands through his hair. “Please. Just for a little bit.”

He was right. You could let him comfort you for a bit. Sit with him and enjoy the presence of the man you missed so dearly. Just for a little. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, you were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders and a mug of tea in your hands. “I don’t know what to say to you, Bucky.”

He sat down next to you, careful to not get too close. He wanted to respect your boundaries. “I know. I have a lot to say to you but I don’t know if you wanna hear it.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to work up the courage to ask your question. “Were you planning on proposing to me? Was that true, when Steve said you were looking at rings?”

“Yes.”

The word punched the air out of your lungs. If only things had gone differently. If those fucking words hasn’t been used. If Bucky had just talked to you, the two of you would have been happily engaged right now. You would be planning your wedding, elbows deep in binders of wedding venues and colors and themes.

“I still want to marry you. More than anything in the entire world,” he continued.

“Then why did you ruin it?” You snapped.”Everything that’s happening right now is your fault. I thought it was mine. I convinced myself it was my fault. But it’s not. I gave you everything, Bucky! Everything I could possibly give you. And you made me feel like it wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t enough.”

“I know,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I know.”

“But I can’t hate you!” You continued. “How am I supposed to hate you when you did that to protect me?”

“Y/N, can I show you something?” He reached into his bag and pulled out a brown leather notebook. “You don’t have to talk to me right now. But please, please just read this.” He opened to a specific page and handed you the notebook.

Your heart stopped as your eyes scanned the page. It was a letter. He had written you a letter.

“Y/N,

I hate myself for what I have to do. I hate myself for a lot of the things i’ve done but this is easily the worst. Hurting you is worse than being tortured by Hydra. I wish I could be different. I wish our lives were different. I wish that we had met in a bar like two normal people and lived a normal life free of violence. I wish that Hydra hadn’t been there that day. I wish I had been just a little stronger and that those words hadn’t triggered the Winter Soldier. And I wish, more than anything, that I wasn’t a danger to you.

You deserve so much better. So much more than what I can ever give me. You should be with someone who’s life is free from trauma, who can shower you with the love you deserve constantly and most importantly, someone who doesn’t have the possibly to lose control and hurt you.

You are a beacon of light, Y/N. The most beautiful, kindest, intelligent person I have ever known. I am in awe of you every single day. I see the way that you’re still trying. How you want to be there for me through this. I wish you didn’t. I can’t do it. I can’t say goodbye to you. I need you to do it, okay? Because if I have to, it will break me. I hate hearing you cry like you are right now as I write this. You’re so much better than me. Please, don’t waste your tears on me.

I hope one day you’ll understand. I hope you know this isn’t your fault. I hope you know that I still love you. I don’t think I’ll ever stop, even on my death bed I’ll still be thinking of you.

You are an angel, Y/N. Don’t let me ruin your light.”

The page was stained with your tears when you had finished reading. Reading his words that he had written in real time hurt so much. God, you just wanted to forgive him.

“Bucky…” you looked up at him. “I’m so scared. What if this happens again? I can’t deal with that. I can’t make it if you abandon me again.”

He grabbed your hands and looked directly into your eyes. “I will never abandon you again. Never.”

“I don’t know what to do,” you didn’t know if you were talking to him or yourself.

“Let me hold you,” he whispered. “Please. Just for tonight.”

You nodded. He wrapped his arms around you tightly for the second time that night. The two of you stayed like that the whole night, falling asleep against each others bodies.

The next morning you slipped out of his arms before he was awake. That was a mistake, you tried to tell yourself. But it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt right.

You tried to avoid Bucky any time he was at the tower. He still wanted to give you space but he also just wanted to show you how much he loved you. And so every day there would be a little gift on your bed. A box of chocolate from the place that you had mentioned once was your favorite, that pair of shoes that you had said months ago that you liked, Of course he knew he wouldn’t make up for all of the hurt he had caused with material things but he just wanted to show you that he cared. That he paid attention and took note of everything you said and did.

He had a lot to make up for. A lot to pain to mend. But you missed him so much. So that day, when you ran into him in the living room, you threw him a bone.

“Dinner tonight. Just us. You can pick where.”

So that’s how you ended up sitting across fr Bucky. He had chosen your favorite restaurant in the city, of course. Anything to make you happy. He just couldn’t believe that you were actually here, sitting with him.

“I know I keep saying it but I’m sorry,” he said when you first sat down.

“No,” you stopped him. “None of that tonight, okay? Tonight I just wanna enjoy time with you. I’m not saying I forgive you and that we’re back together but I can’t ever get there if we can’t just be us.” You knew you couldn’t do this forever. Just stay in this inbetween of being mad but wanting him so badly. You’d never be able to let him go, you knew that. So you decided to just start slow. A normal dinner where the two of you could just talk like you used to.

Four glasses of wine later, you were having a great time. It was like the past few months had never even happened. Of course the alcohol had helped you along the way but mostly, you had just missed him so much.

The two of you continued to go to dinner together once a week but you had a rule. No kissing. Not yet. It felt like you had to rebuild your relationship from the ground up.

You were happier than you had been in so long. Bucky continued to show you how much he cared about you but it didn’t feel like he was trying to play a game with you as the prize. It genuinely felt like he just wanted to spend time with you in any capacity that you would allow.

Things were good. Until you got the call from Steve. An emergency mission. There wasn’t even time for you to all prep. He explained to you what was happening on the jet.

It was a hard fight, each enemy stronger than the last. Your body was so filled with adrenaline that it took a second for you to realize where all of the blood dripping onto the ground was coming from. It was coming from your body. The bullet that had just found it’s way into your body.

You dropped to your knees, the world around you alredy growing blurry. You were losing a lot of blood and fast.

“Y/N!” Bucky ran faster than you’d ever seen. “Oh my god, Y/N! We need to get you to the jet right now. We can help you there, okay?” He spoke frantically.

“B-Bucky,” you gasped for air. “J-just hold my hand, okay?” You felt so tired. You just wanted to close your eyes.

“No. No keep your eyes open baby, okay? Keep them on me.” He grabbed your body off the ground and started to take you to the jet where Bruce was waiting to help out anyone who got injured.

“I… love…you,” you spoke slowly. Your time was running out. “T-tell me you love me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll tell you when we’re at home, okay? I’m gonna tell you the second we get out of here.” Of course he loved you. But he couldn’t say it here. If he said it right here right now, it felt like he was accepting that you were about to die out on the field.

“P-please,” you begged, fighting harder and harder to not let your eyes close.

“You’re gonna be okay. And you and me, we’re gonna have an amazing life okay? We’re not gonna waste time anymore. No more wasting time. We’re gonna have a beautiful wedding. We’re gonna adopt a bunch of cats just like you’ve always wanted. And we’re gonna travel the world together. That life is gonna be ours so you have to stay alive, okay?”

You weakly nodded. You had to fight for that life. He was right. You had wasted so much time. You saw the jet in the distance. If you could just make it, you could get help. That life he had described could be yours.

“Never forget I love you,” you whispered weakly before the urge to close your eyes grew impossible to resist.

Tagging people who wanted part 2: @sarah1barnes @my-obsession-spn @lets--be-honest @chloeannastarlight @missvelvetsstuff @sunset90 @diannana @thatmarvelloser @alana-32 @dyingsinglecuzimfangirl @jamesbuckybarnes1917

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serverusslaype · 2 years ago

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Shameless

potential Snape x professor!reader fic?

Shameless Masterpost

so, this was just a thing i typed up late last night because late night snape cravings hit and i honestly just wanted to write something. it's not perfect, of course, but where else to post it but on this beloved, yet cursed site?! <3

i have a few parts typed up so if people enjoy it, i'll post the other ones. just a heads up, i'm not entirely following the book/movie, sort of just making it up as i go.. so please, do not come for me, it's just a self-indulgent fic at this point. :,) considering i have not really proofread this properly, forgive me for any mistakes lmao

also, i've made the reader a hufflepuff because i am one, and so it's easier for me to write .. also cos i feel like i suck at writing as other houses lmfao

anyway.. here we gooooo..

"You look lost in thought, my dear," Professor McGonagall turned to you, tilting her head in a concerned fashion. You wet your lips and turned to face your older colleague and blinked - a pathetic attempt at trying to ground yourself. She'd caught you daydreaming again. "Everything alright?" She questioned quietly, a kind smile picking at the corners of her lips.

You tore your gaze away from the subject of your attention and looked to the Gryffindor Head of House, who was seated to your right.

"Oh," Clearing your throat awkwardly, you nodded at her. She didn't look too convinced. "Just a long day, I suppose." You lied and glanced down at your hands that were clasped together in your lap; fingers fidgeting nervously like you'd just been caught doing something you shouldn't.

McGonagall didn't look satisfied nor happy with your answer, but she didn't want to press you - that wasn't her business. The older witch was respectful in that way, and for that you were grateful. You offered her a small smile in return to reassure her.

The older woman raised her brows in a disbelieving manner, her twinkling eyes studying your blank face as if trying to decipher what on Earth was bothering you. It felt like you were back in school at Hogwarts all over again, in trouble for breaking the rules or something similar. But you weren't, you were a fellow professor at Hogwarts now, in fact, you were the new teacher for Herbology. Professor Sprout had retired last year and Dumbledore had offered you her position, his memory still serving him well as he remembered you'd always had a thirst and passion for the fauna and flora side of magic. Before that, you were teaching Astronomy.

Currently, you were sat in the Great Hall with the other professors, waiting for Dumbledore to do his usual announcement at the beginning of a new year.

"I don't like it when you lie to me, Y/N." McGonagall gave you a sad look, placing a comforting hand on your fidgeting ones. She stilled your anxious movements and you sighed deeply. Out of all the professors at Hogwarts, you got along the best with the older witch, she had always looked out for you back in school and now. You'd probably say that Sprout was your next closest colleague considering you shared an intense interest for Herbology, so you were sad to see her go.

You didn't say anything in response to Professor McGonagall, you only sucked in your bottom lip and chewed on it for a brief moment before Dumbledore's familiar voice rang out through the Great Hall.

"Good evening, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts," He began, stepping up to the golden owl lecturn, his arms flailing about dramatically. "Now, I'd like to say a few words before we all become too befuddled by our excellent feast. First, I'm pleased to announce that Professor Y/N L/N will be taking over the mantle of Herbology, as Professor Sprout chose to retire at the end of last year. I am very confident that she will be a great successor to our previous Herbology professor." Dumbledore announced, turning to give you a warm smile. You stood up and smiled and waved sheepishly as the students and other fellow professors gave you a round of applause, all of them giving you kind and encouraging smiles.

As your eyes flicked round the table of your fellow professors, you got caught in the gaze of none other than Professor Severus Snape. You sucked in a quiet breath, feeling your body go rigid under his cold gaze. After that, you quickly seated yourself, focusing your attention back onto Dumbledore. Over the past year, you'd unfortunately grown a slight affection for the broody man. You weren't sure why, considering how short and cruel he'd always been with you, but maybe that's what did it. A masochist at heart, perhaps? Surely, that was unlikely for a Hufflepuff like you.

McGonagall noticed the tension, and she immediately leaned towards you, glancing at Snape. "Don't worry yourself about Severus." She hummed to you, offering an encouraging smile. Your fingers rushed up to massage your temples.

"I'll try not to, but I'm probably going to come into contact with him more often now, no? Since he will probably come looking for potion ingredients from my classroom?" You groaned, braving another glance at the raven-haired Potions Master. You felt your cheeks betray you, a light shade of pink tinting them as he met your eyes once more. You quickly looked away. If you were going to keep this under wraps, you were going to need to train yourself not to blush at such small things.

"Well, yes," McGonagall said hesitantly. "But I'm sure he will look to come knocking when you aren't there. He's not the most... socially adept man." She pursed her lips momentarily and you met her gaze, scoffing quietly. She let loose an amused chuckle at your reaction. "You know that, of course." McGonagall added, leaning back into her seat. You hummed in agreement.

"Next on the agenda, I would also like to welcome Gilderoy Lockhart as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore's booming voice tore you from your thoughts, and the name he mentioned caught your attention. Gilderoy Lockhart? Wasn't he a famous author?

You looked up curiously, trying to spot him in the crowd of teachers. There he was, standing proudly with a million-dollar grin plastered on his too-perfect-looking face. God, what an ass, you thought to yourself. He wasn't bad looking, but he just seemed to think everyone was there for him. Obviously.

"He's not going to last until the end of the year, surely." You commented, trying to hide the amused grin that was desperate to make an appearance on your face. Suddenly, Lockhart looked over to you, as if he sensed you were talking about him. You quickly wiped off the grin on your face and politely smiled at him, praying he didn't see your previous expression. It didn't seem like he did, as he just winked at you instead, making you cringe inwardly.

You had to refrain yourself from letting your head hit the table out of embarrassment. Gods, how many people just saw that awkward encounter? Surely the whole bloody school considering the man was still stood up. You slowly sink into your chair, wishing it would swallow you up.

The next day soon came, and you were up early in the morning, ensuring that the greenhouse-classroom was set up perfectly for your first class of second-years. You'd thought it would be fun to start off the year with an interesting and easy, practical lesson. So you chose to teach your students about the Devil's Snare - a dangerous plant that can kill if you did get tangled in it unless you kept calm and relaxed within it's deadly grasp. You were aware that Professor Sprout had gone over this last year with them, but you wanted to remind them of the dangers that this plant possesses. You potted some of the plant into small containers and spread them out over the long table, placing a small warning sign in front of it to ward off some of the more.. courageous students. Particularly Slytherin ones - you weren't discriminating against them, however in your experience they were usually the troublemakers.

"Professor L/N," A familiar, deep voice came from behind you, almost making you jump out of your skin from how deep in thought you were. Spinning around on your heel, the skirt of your dress twirled with you.

"Professor Snape, to what do I owe the pleasure?" You smiled politely at the dark-haired wizard, clasping your hands in front of you to show some sort of composure and confidence. Despite this, you could still feel your cheeks heating up as Snape prowled towards you slowly, his face still cool as stone.

"An unusual job change from being the Astronomy teacher to the Herbology teacher." He commented, glancing over your new classroom with a frown. The Potions Master stopped just short of a metre in front of you. Snape's cloak engulfed him, and you were reminded of the times you and your friends had nicknamed him the Bat of the Dungeons back in school. He truly did embody the look of a bat perfectly, making you wonder if he had based his robes off of one.

"If you remember correctly, I had a passion for both subjects." You replied nonchalantly, though slightly curious to see why he had paid you a visit. Snape hummed disapprovingly at your reply. Clearly, the man didn't approve of any student that excelled in any other subject than Potions.

"What can I help you with, Snape?" You turned back to adjusting the pots of Devil's Snare on the long table, retrieving your wand from your robes and casting a charm to create a dark rain cloud to sit atop of the plants to ensure they were comfortable. Snape watched you, clearly intrigued.

"I need some asphodel roots, if you will." Snape stated, making you turn to look at him with a cocked brow. He continued to stare down at you with a disdainful expression on his pale face, making you want to curl into a ball. "A student of mine neglected the task of retrieving some." He added with that look of disappointment still on his face. Snape's tone was harsh, and you could tell he was pissed off, this task was below him. Obviously.

You let an amused huff slip out of your nose, a smile picking at the corner of your lips as you just imagined the bollocking he gave that student for forgetting something so important, especially in his class. He instantly cast an angry glare at you, and you wiped the smile off of your face almost immediately. The man might not be your professor anymore, but he still scares the shit out of you for sure and you weren't willing to take your chances today.

"Ah," You nodded softly, avoiding his stony eyes. You cleared your throat and padded over to your row of plants, looking underneath the wooden fixture for the jar of asphodel roots you kept. "Brewing Draught of Living Death?" You questioned awkwardly, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that enveloped you and Snape. A curt sigh left his lips at your pathetic attempt at making small talk.

"I'm astonished you know what I require it for, Professor L/N, considering you were rather... academically inept in your potion classes." Professor Snape said coldly, making your jaw clench. It was no secret, you were shit at potions, and Snape always made sure you were aware of it when you were in school. Again, why were you crushing on this cruel man? The word 'masochist' came to mind again. Nonetheless, why were you even helping him? He clearly has no respect for you.

As you continued digging through your storage unit, you finally spotted the jar of asphodel root behind some empty, dusty jars. You retrieved it quickly, suddenly wanting Snape to leave as quickly as possible. After his cruel comment you weren't exactly inclined to keep his company.

As Snape held out his hand demandingly to take the jar from your grasp, you whipped it away with a fierce frown on your face. You may be a shy, little Hufflepuff, but you did not like it when people spoke rudely to you.

"You know, it helps a lot when you have a teacher you like." You said to Snape, holding his cold gaze. It's true, you're more likely to enjoy and perform better in a subject if you like the teacher that is teaching it.

"I did not come here to squabble with you, Miss L/N." Snape rolled his eyes, reaching again for the jar in your hands but you held it closer to your body. You clenched your jaw as he disregarded your title. He wasn't stupid, he was clearly doing it to get under your skin, and it was working.

"It would suit you better to respect the people that are willing to help you, Snape." You bit back at him with narrowed eyes. You passed the jar to him hesitantly, balling your fists in a small fit of rage as he took it from you. "And it's Professor L/N. I'm not your student anymore."

Snape arched a disapproving brow at you, turning around to sweep out of your classroom, his black cloak billowing out behind him like a bat. Gods, he was infuriating! You wondered how the hell the other professors have dealt with him all these years. The bastard didn't even thank you either!

He'd left you in a sour mood, and now you had only ten minutes until your class of second-years arrived. What a git.

part 2!

there it is,, i hope you enjoyed this late night idea, let me know if you did with a like or a comment, whichever you prefer. then again, you don't need to do either! 🩷 :)

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missmatchablossom · 1 year ago

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The Champion's Babysitter

Pokemon x JJK AU

summary: you are the newest dragon-type gym leader, and you've just been tasked with babysitting the pokemon champion gojo satoru, who has not been taking his job seriously.

a.n.: fem reader, a couple of curse words, kinda slow burn romance, fluffy, cute pokemon interactions, 6.8k words. shoutout @silkspunweb for putting this AU in my head <3

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat that? I’m afraid I’m not following,” you asked, nerves overwhelming your senses as you stood before the four toughest pokemon trainers in the region: the Elite Four.

It was impossible not to be in awe of some of the world’s most renowned fighters. How could you just stand there, not shitting your pants, when you spent so many hours watching footage of their pokemon battles? You had the utmost respect for the four figures sitting before you.

Nanami Kento, the Steel-Type master

Okkotsu Yuta, the Dark-Type expert

Fushiguro Toji, the Poison-Type wielder

Iori Utahime, the Ice-Type genius

It was an honor to be granted a private audience with them upon their request. But your reverence was halted once Nanami began delivering the news to you.

“We are asking that you oversee the business of Gojo,” he said, looking you squarely in the eyes as he adjusted his glasses.

“Gojo, as in Gojo Satoru? Our current pokemon champion?” you asked incredulously, eyes flickering between the four people before you, desperate for clarification.

“The very same one,” Yuta answered, smiling at you sympathetically.

“What do you mean by oversee?” you continued, turning towards Utahime.

“As I’m sure you’ve already heard on the news, Champion Gojo has been neglecting his post as of late. Recent challengers have been showing up to battles to find him missing,” she responded, brows furrowing in distaste. The Frosslass at her side nodded her assent.

It was true, it’s been all over TV lately. The celebrated, undefeated champion has been ghosting any challengers. The footage that you see of him nowadays is of him lounging around at different cafes, snapping pictures of the sweets he’s indulging in.

Pathetic, you thought.

“His hedonism is causing a lot of uproar. It’s a huge pain in the ass,” Nanami added, as the others murmured in agreement.

“We’d like you to check in with him now and then…encourage him to take his position more seriously,” Yuta said, the gaze of his dusclops behind him unsettling you.

You blinked a few times.

“Why me?” you asked. The four exchanged loaded glances you struggled to decipher. You could’ve sworn that Yuta’s smile felt more mischievous than usual, like he knew something you didn’t.

“You’re one of the most promising young trainers we’ve seen in a long time. The gym leaders you’ve battled and your fellow peers have vouched for you as someone of great integrity, valor, and talent. We’ve seen it ourselves.” Utahime said, causing your chest to swell with pride.

“The decision to make you the newest Dragon-type gym leader was unanimous. We hope you don’t take that lightly,” Nanami revealed.

“Thank you, it means a lot to me,” you said. You’d worked hard your entire life to become a gym leader worthy of the Dragon-type pokemon you hold near and dear to your heart. But they were still dancing around why they wanted you to do anything with the champion.

“Forgive me for asking, but what can I do that the rest of you cannot?” you pressed, ignoring the bored yawn from Toji.

“Gojo won’t listen to us. But we believe he will at least find interest in a fellow Dragon-type specialist, especially one as strong as you,” Yuta responded.

It was common knowledge that while our champion could wield any type of pokemon, he favored Dragon-types. Not many could say the same, as most trainers found it difficult to work with the stubborn, overpowering nature that is Dragon-type pokemon.

Toji’s heavy sigh filled the room, the weedle around his shoulders tilting its head at you.

“Look kid, we’re asking you to be his babysitter. Follow him around, challenge him to battles, do whatever you need to get his ass back to work so he can stop being a pain in ours.” Toji stated gruffly, crossing his arms and leveling you with a look.

Nanami fired a look of quiet distaste in his direction, focusing back on you.

“My apologies for his tactlessness, but he’s not wrong. We know it’s a big task, but you’re the only one we can ask,” Nanami said, his Lucario nodding its head.

“You might even learn something from him. Few people can say they got to train with Champion Gojo,” Utahime pressed, quipping her brow.

She got you there. While you dedicated countless hours watching pokemon battles of each of the elite 4, you studied Gojo’s battles religiously. There was no documented battle of his that you didn’t know like the back of your hand, and no matter how many times you’d seen him fight, you always felt the same awe and respect watching his talent.

The elite 4 and their pokemon stared at you intensely, waiting for your response. How could you refuse, when some of the top trainers in the world were practically begging you for this favor?

“I’ll do it if you really think I can help,” you said, fiddling with your fingers nervously.

All of them - minus Toji - notably relaxed their shoulders, thanking you.

“We’ve synced up your pokedex with his so you can always locate each other. You have a pokemon capable of flying, yes?” Utahime said, handing you your updated pokedex. You nodded, slipping it into your pocket.

“Perfect. Why don’t you pay him a visit?” Yuta said, smiling angelically at you. It seemed like you didn’t have a choice, not with the way they were all looking expectantly.

“All right. I’ll forward updates in the coming weeks,” you said, nodding to the rest of them as you turned to leave.

Before you reached the exit, a soft paw pad touched your shoulder. You turned to face Nanami’s Lucario, which was holding out a can of lemonade in its paws. You reached out to grab the can, smiling at the pokemon.

“For me?” you asked, brows furrowing as the Lucario shook its head.

“For…Gojo?” you asked, and immediately the Lucario smiled and nodded.

“Alright, I’ll pass it to him. Thank you,” you said, waving as you left.

Once you were outside the building, you released a sigh. Salamence immediately popped out of his pokeball, letting out a mixture of chuffs and roars and he nudged you with his nose.

You laughed, placing your hand under his chin and scratching.

“I’m alright buddy, I promise,” you said. You were incredibly bonded to all of your pokemon, but Salamence had a special place in your heart. He has always been your proud protector, ever since you came across him when he was an injured, weak Bagon.

Flipping open the map on your Pokedex, you located Gojo near a seaside town.

“Alright, ready to fly bud?” you asked Salamence. He roared in excitement as you jumped onto his back.

The soothing music of the waves against the shore always calmed you. Before you became a gym leader, you often visited the beach to relax and let your water-types splash around.

You didn’t even need your pokedex to locate the champion, who was garnering attention from every person nearby as he sat at the local cafe. He was practically surrounded by people, the shine of his silvery hair being the only thing singling him out in a crowd so big.

There was only one trick up your sleeve that was a sure-fire way of getting a crowd’s attention. Grabbing two of your pokeballs, you allowed Kingdra and Gyrrados to come out into the water.

They both jumped in immediately, happily swimming around as you laughed.

“Alright you two, I need you both to execute plan sparkle,” you said. They voiced their agreement and immediately began performing a dual variation of the move dragon dance in the water, causing major splashes and ripples that began drawing the huge crowd of people away from Gojo and towards them.

You shot them a thumbs-up before making your way over to the champion. It almost pissed you off how nonchalant he looked, leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out, like there wasn’t anywhere he should be. His famous luxray lay at his feet, curled up next to a plate of what looked like poke puffs. Once he spotted you, he rose to his full stature, positioning himself in front of his trainer in a protective stance. You offered the Luxray a treat from your pocket, and the pokemon gently took it in his mouth before retreating to Gojo’s side.

“Champion Satoru Gojo,” you began, squaring your shoulders.

He glanced up at you immediately, his cerulean eyes peeking out behind a pair of black sunglasses that sat perched at the end of his nose. His silvery hair was down, brushing against his eyes ever so slightly from the sea breeze.

A hint of surprise ran across over his features, fast enough that you almost didn’t catch it.

“My name is-”

“I know who you are, dragon prodigy,” Gojo said, calling you by your nickname.

He knows who I am?

“May I ask why our esteemed champion is here, instead of facing all the challengers you have lined up to defeat you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

He smiled at you, sending a stampede of butterfrees down your body. Gojo wasn’t famed for just his prowess in pokemon battle, no. He was one of the most famous champions for his beauty, especially with that signature smile of his.

“Looking to battle me, are you?” he said, crossing his arms over his head as he tilted his head down to get a good look at you.

“I’d never turn down a battle, but I’m not interested in your title, champion,” you said, a note of disdain in your voice. He raised a brow at you, as if he couldn’t believe a trainer didn’t want to become the coveted title of pokemon champion.

“Oh? Then why have you tracked me down here, miss prodigy,” he asked, reaching down to pet his Luxray.

“I’ve been tasked with making sure you get back to work. Please return to your post so I can return to my gym,” you said, failing at keeping the bite away from your words.

He stretched his long arms up, humming to himself as he considered your command.

“How about this? If you can retrieve the one thing I’m craving right now, I’ll return to the Pokemon League for today,” he said cheekily.

“How am I supposed to know what you’re cr-”

“You have 5 minutes. Good luck!”

Bastard.

You trudged back towards the beach, not bothering to waste your time on a fool’s errand. You were already mentally preparing your apology letter to the elite 4.

At least Kingdra and Gyrrados are having fun, you thought to yourself.

Your two water types continued to dance around in the water, thriving off the attention of all of the onlookers.

You felt his pokeball rattle against its spot in your pack before Salamence came out, seeming to sense your frustration.

“Can you believe it, Sal? The unbeatable Gojo Satoru is wasting his time here and ignoring his job. Think about how many people look up to him as champion!” you exclaimed, pacing as Salamence nodded his head.

That’s why they say never meet your heroes.

“He asked me to find his craving in 5 minutes. How the hell am I supposed to know what he’s craving? I barely met the man. I just know he likes sweets from all those interviews,” you admitted, shaking your head.

Salamence suddenly began nudging at the backpack you laid on the ground, tipping it over until its contents began to spill out.

“Hey knock it off bud, are you hungry or something?” you asked, reaching to gather the spilled contents. You paused when you laid eyes on the can of lemonade given to you by Nanami’s Lucario.

“There’s no way,” you mumbled to yourself, holding the can in your hands.

Worth a shot, I guess, you thought.

“Salamence, return.” Once your dragon was safely tucked back into his pokeball, you strode back to the champion, placing the can of lemonade on the table before him.

Gojo looked at you incredulously, then eyed the lemonade with a look you struggled to pinpoint.

“Satisfied?” you asked, bracing yourself for a rejection.

Instead, the sincere smile gracing his features took you by surprise. The way he picked it up made it seem like it was something precious, and suddenly the champion looked much younger.

“I am,” he said, moving to stand up to his impressive height. He towered over you, forcing you to look up as he stepped into your space. You gulped as you took notice of how stupidly handsome this man was.

“You win for today. But I’m sure I’ll see you again soon,” he drawled, stunning you with a wink.

You watched silently as he walked away, his enormous Charizard appearing before him. You gawked at the beautiful pokemon, the dragon-type lover in you urging you to come closer.

He was gone within seconds, leaving you with a lingering funny feeling, especially after seeing that last smile. It was nothing like the smiles you were familiar with - the arrogant smiles he wore after each victory, the charming smiles he put on for each interview. You grew lost in thought as you tried swallowing the urge to make him smile like that again.

What did I get myself into?

“Altaria, use peck!” you yelled, watching your pokemon dive toward the challenger’s Machoke. The Machoke stumbled back with the force of the hit, but quickly righted itself.

“Machoke, use low sweep!” your challenger yelled, his pokemon wasting no time in kicking out its feet against your Altaria.

Your pokemon dodged skillfully, evading the assault with minimal effort. After a couple more turns, your Altaria finished off the opponent’s pokemon with a final peck.

“And the winner is, our Gym Leader! Better luck next time, trainer Itadori,” your gym assistant said.

The boy named Itadori Yuji sank to his knees dramatically, placing his head in his hands as he yelled out in sorrow.

“You fought well Itadori,” you said, offering your hand to him.

“Wait, really?!” he exclaimed, taking your hand. His look of despair was immediately replaced with hope, reminiscent of a puppy.

“Yes, that Machoke of yours is quite strong. My advice is to work a bit more on type matchups,” you said, smiling as he eagerly noted your tips.

“Alright, just you wait! I’ll train even harder and I’ll beat you in no time,” he exclaimed, the fire once again alight in his eyes.

“I look forward to it,” you said genuinely, watching as he ran out of the gym in record time. And you meant it. While he was a little sloppy, he fought bravely, and with raw power you haven’t seen in a while. You could definitely see him challenging Gojo one day.

You reached up to stroke Altaria’s feathers, commending her for another battle well done.

“Okay, the rest of you can come out now,” you said aloud, smiling as the other 5 pokemon in your party came out of their pokeballs and began cheering for your victory.

Suddenly, Salamence began growling towards the platform where you usually held your battles. A familiar figure sat perched on the steps, smiling down at you like you were old friends.

“Congrats on the win, dragon prodigy,” Gojo said, unaffected by the rising hostility from Salamence.

“Easy bud, it's okay,” you said, patting his side.

“How long have you been here?” you said, struggling to comprehend how he evaded notice.

“Long enough to see you bullshit that battle with Yuji,” he said, pissing you off with his infuriating smile.

“Excuse me?” you asked, debating on letting Salamence go off on him.

“With your skillset, you’re capable of defeating his pokemon with a single move from each of yours. Yet each of his pokemon lasted longer than they should’ve,” he said meaningfully, his long steps quickly eating up the distance between you two.

“Why is that?” he asked, suddenly much closer to you, ignoring the snarling from Salamence.

You looked straight into his blue eyes, intrigued by how they were flicking back and forth between your own, studying you.

“Every time I defeat a challenger that way, it crushes their spirit. I’m still beating them, but I’m giving them a bit more confidence and practice this way,” you answered, turning away from him.

It broke your heart to see the look of utter defeat on each challenger’s face when you actually fought even close enough to your full strength.

Gojo hummed, shaking his head at you.

“You’re setting them up for failure. You’re giving these kids the false hope that their pokemon are strong enough to stand against your own, then when they finally get to the elite 4, they won’t stand a chance,” he said, piercing you with his words.

“Then they won’t have a single hope against me,” he continued coldly, watching for your reaction.

You never thought about it that way, how taking it easy on your challengers could be hurting them more than helping them.

“My advice: don’t hold back. I’d love to watch that beautiful fighting style of yours when you’re serious,” he said lowly, placing something cold in your hands before walking away.

You looked down at your hands quizzically, finding a can of lemonade.

“It’s the best after a fight!” Gojo yelled over his shoulder before he left.

You stood in silence, mulling over his words over and over again.

You slid your pokedex back into your pocket after confirming you found the right building.

Pokemon Trainer’s School was written in bold letters on the first sign you saw.

Your entrance into the building turned a few heads, and you earned a good amount of wide-eyed smiles and points as you searched the building for a certain champion.

“It’s the 8th gym leader!”

“The dragon prodigy is here!”

“Oh my gosh let's go get an autograph!”

You smiled and waved politely at each of them, making your way through each room until you finally spotted Gojo, standing in front of a chalkboard of a small class of students.

His eyes flickered to yours, but he continued talking as if he were expecting you.

“In order for you to defeat dragon-type pokemon, it’s best to use Ice and Fairy-type pokemon. But make sure to study the types of your opponent, and be weary of dual-types,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, which he of course ignored.

“Ah, perfect timing. Class, we have a special treat for today! A lesson from the very own dragon gym leader herself!” Gojo announced, gesturing to you.

You froze as 6 heads turned your way, various levels of shock written across each of their faces.

“A lesson from the gym leader herself, so cool!” the boy you recognized as Itadori yelled, pumping his fist.

You plastered on a polite smile as you walked up to the front towards Gojo, leaning into his space while the students were buzzing with chatter.

“Teaching them how to defeat me, are you? You’re such a dick,” you said quietly, nudging him in the ribs.

“Worried?” he countered, the grin evident in his voice.

“You wish,” you snapped, trying not to smile. It didn’t bother you, truly. What you were really trying to wrap your head around was why the elite champion was spending his afternoon teaching such a small class of trainers instead of battling his own challengers.

“Perfect, then you don’t mind teaching us a lesson about how to beat dragon types then right? Thank you!” he said, moving aside to sit amongst his students. You flipped him off before any of the kids could see, then focused your attention on the students staring at you expectantly.

“Alright, dragon types 101 then,” you said, launching into a lesson explaining almost everything you knew about your favorite type of pokemon.

The students listened attentively, surprising you with their engagement and the thoughtfulness of their questions. Class flew by in the blink of an eye, and soon enough you were alone in the classroom with Gojo.

He let out a whistle as you sat next to him on top of one of the desks.

“You’re a natural. Ever thought about teaching?” he said.

“Not really. But that was nice actually, those kids are very smart,” you admitted, smiling at the champion.

From the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, it must have thrown him off, seeing you smile for the first time like that.

“They are. I’ll bet you the future champion is among them,” he said sincerely, smiling warmly for once.

It tickled at your chest, the way his different expressions made you feel. You felt greedy to see more sides of him.

“Is that why you’re here, instead of doing your job?” you asked softly, nudging your knee against him.

“I’d much rather be here training these kids to become the best, than have to waste my time battling a bunch of rowdy upstarts who would abuse the champion title,” he said truthfully.

“Is that why you’re avoiding battles? Scared someone will beat you?” you asked curiously, studying the way his long lashes fanned against his cheek when he looked down.

“Nah. More like I don’t want to bother with kids who have zero chance beating me. It’s way more fun to train these kids to become strong enough to beat me. I’d be happy to hand over my title to one of them, someday,” he said, nudging you back.

His words made you pause.

“That was the most decent thing I’ve ever heard you say,” you said, thoughtfully, admiring the way the light of the late afternoon made his hair seem to glow.

“That's rude as hell,” he said, causing you to burst out in laughter. By the time you finished, you realized he’d been staring at you, making a blush creep up your cheeks.

“What?” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

“What do I have to do to make you laugh like that again?” he asked genuinely, unleashing a hoard of butterfrees in your stomach.

You raised your brows, waiting for him to crack a joke or say something stupid again. But he didn’t, he was serious.

“Go back to the Pokemon League and do your job, then I’ll give you an award,” you said, smiling at the look of interest on his face.

“Hmm, since you were so kind to teach my kids a lesson, I’ll go back to work,” he said, rising up to his impressive stature.

“But I expect my reward to be paid in advance,” he said, leaning down so his face was inches away from yours.

You blushed furiously as his eyes flickered down to your lips.

Clearing your throat, you calmed yourself, plastering the sweetest smile you could muster on your lips.

“Close your eyes then,” you said as silkily as you could, trailing your left hand up his arm.

The champion froze, eyes widening before he complied and shut them. You fought a giggle before pressing the can of lemonade against his lips, enjoying the way his eyes shot open in surprise.

He grabbed the can from your hand before you dashed out of the room, giggling at your prank. You heard his hearty laughter echoing across the halls before you left.

It was a rare day off you had to yourself. No gym challengers, no chasing Gojo, just you and your Pokemon lounging at the beach.

The elite 4 sent you a thank you letter, claiming Gojo’s attendance had gone up significantly since you started checking up on him. They told you to take the week off, and you gladly did. There was an odd pang in your chest, though. You had become accustomed to seeing the champion, used to facing the different challenges he gave you that would get him back to work. He was undoubtedly annoying and cocky, yet you dared to find yourself missing him and the way he made you laugh.

Beach. Enjoy the beach, you urged yourself.

Kingdra and Gyrrados were racing each other in the water, joined by a couple of wild water pokemon. Altaria was soaring with a flock of wingulls, showing off her speed. Goodra and Garchomp were playing in the sand, creating what looked like a giant hole. Salamence was content to be laying at your side, sunbathing next to you.

You broke out of your daze once Altaria started nudging you with her wing.

“What’s up Tari? Are you already done flying?” you said, sitting up as you pressed your sunglasses to the top of your head.

You were taken aback to see that the sunny skies had been completely replaced with angry stormclouds, threatening to unleash their rain at any second.

“Oh geez, it’s about to start pouring huh,” you said, quickly gathering up your things.

You returned the rest of your party to their pokeballs, where they would be safe from the incoming storm.

The rain began coming down heavily, and you dashed out of the sand to take cover under a tree.

An ear-piercing cry startled you, and you turned to see two kids standing next to rocks by the shore.

“Hey you two! It’s dangerous to be out here when it's storming!” you yelled, walking towards the young kids.

They turned their identical faces towards you, both streaked with tears.

“Please rescue our Eevee!” one of them cried, clinging to you.

“She was swimming when the storm started. We can’t find her anywhere!” the other said.

You knelt to be eye-level with them, grabbing one of their hands in each of yours.

“I’ll find her for you, okay? But I need you both to stay hidden. It’s dangerous when it rains, the stronger pokemon tend to come out,” you warned.

“Salemence!” you yelled, watching as your pokemon appeared before you.

The twins looked at him with a mix of fear and awe as he quickly lifted his wings to shield them from the rain.

“I need you to stay with him okay? He’ll keep you safe while I rescue your Eevee,” you said. They nodded, huddling together against your pokemon.

Salamence immediately roared in protest, undoubtedly refusing to leave your side.

“I need you to protect them Sally, please. I’ll be okay, I promise,” you said, dropping your backpack next to him. You grabbed the mouthpiece that allowed you to breathe underwater, then dove into the sea before you had a chance to chicken out.

The freezing temperature of the water was a shock to your system. You had to rescue this Eevee fast if you wanted to avoid frostbite. You had honed your body to withstand extreme climates as you trained alongside your pokemon, but even you knew you couldn’t last long in this weather.

You swam furiously, dodging every pokemon within your radius. Not all of them would charge at you to battle, but the rain made it practically impossible to distinguish which pokemon was what, and you didn’t want to risk finding out. While treading water, you spotted a blur of brown on a group of rocks.

Swimming closer, you spotted a little Eevee, soaked wet and shivering. The poor thing looked up at you with sad, scared eyes as you hopped out of the water to approach it.

“It’s okay little one, I’m here to rescue you okay?” you said through chattering teeth. You struggled to feel your fingers, but you forced yourself to take out the pokeball you borrowed from the twins anyways.

“I’ll get you back to your trainer. Eevee, return,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief once the pokemon was safely back into its ball.

Tucking the ball inside a small pouch you carried, you dove back into the water. To your dismay, a school of tentacruels were gathering near the surface of the water, and you knew them to be aggressive. You’d have to dive deeper into the water to avoid being spotted, but you were running out of time before the cold would give incapacitate you.

Mustering all your strength, you swam the distance back to shore, unable to gather the energy to do anything except lean against a rock just beyond the reach of the water.

Salamence ran to you immediately, the two twins hot on his trail. Once he reached you, he whined and nudged at you, but you were too cold to move. The continued assault of the rain didn’t help the excruciating chill you were feeling.

“S-she’s s-safe,” you bit out, shakily placing Eevee’s pokeball back in the hands of the twins, who cried as they thanked you.

“S-sal, please g-get them t-to the p-pokemon c-center,” you said, your shivers becoming so violent it was near impossible to talk.

Salamence whined, refusing to move. He covered all three of you with his wings, and you had no strength left to chide him for ignoring you.

You vaguely heard the twins speaking to you, asking if you were okay. But you could barely register their words with the cold seeping into your bones, numbing your brain and making you feel sleepy.

“Shit,” you heard from a familiar voice. You felt his hand against your cheek before he released a hiss.

“You’re fucking freezing,” he said, and you cracked your eyes open enough to see the panic racing against his beautiful features.

“G-gojo?” you chattered, wondering if the hypothermia was getting to your brain and making you see things.

“Salamence, please get the kids to safety,” Gojo asked. You heard Salamence growl in response.

“I promise I will help your trainer, but I can’t do that if I need to help them too. Please,” he said, surprising you with how softly he spoke to your pokemon.

It must have worked, as you heard the beating of his wings that meant he took flight. Probably to the nearest Pokemon Center to bring the twins to safety.

“Bear with me for a sec,” Gojo said, lifting you up with one arm under your legs and one across your lower back.

“I’m f-fucking c-cold,” you said, shaking violently in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I know baby. I’ll get you warm,” he said, breaking out into a sprint. You clung to him as much as you could, releasing your grip once the sound of the rain became muffled.

He set you down gently against what felt like a wall of rock. The cold bit into your skin, but at least it was dry here.

Gojo knelt to face you, taking your face in his hands. You leaned your cheek into his warm palms, feeling overwhelmed with relief at seeing his familiar face.

“I need to get you out of your wet clothes, okay?” he said, not moving until you nodded. Once you did, he made quick work of your outfit, stripping you down until you were completely bare before him.

Any embarrassment you felt was overshadowed by the determination in his eyes, the hard set to his mouth that you rarely ever caught without a smile. A part of you wished he’d crack a joke or say something stupid to piss you off and lighten the mood, but he didn’t.

Reaching into his pack, he swiped a hand towel and began silently running it across your body, drying you swiftly as you continued to shiver.

His cerulean eyes shimmered with focus as he stripped off his own clothing, slipping his own shirt over your frame. You sighed with relief as the warm, dry fabric of his shirt soothed your chilled skin, hanging over you like a dress and enveloping you with his clean scent.

“Better?” he asked, taking your frozen fingers into his hands, and exhaling onto them to warm them up.

You nodded, warmth filling your body with how gently he was treating you. Your eyes traveled town his toned torso, admiring how his body seemed sculpted out of marble.

“But won’t you be c-cold?” you asked, wrapping your arms tightly against yourself.

“Worry about yourself, prodigy. Your lips are blue,” he said, settling himself behind you in only his pants and boots.

He placed his hands onto your hips, lifting you slightly and settling you on his lap. You gasped as the warmth of his front began seeping into your back, his arms cradling you and he continued to wordlessly rub your hands between his. It felt incredibly intimate.

He’s just doing it to save your life, calm down, you thought to yourself.

He paused for a second, reaching his hand to grab something from his pocket.

“Charizard,” he said. Within seconds, the pokemon appeared before your eyes, staring down at you.

“We need your fire. Please,” Gojo said, jerking his head down towards you.

Charizard nodded, laying down on its stomach, positioning the tip of its tail in front of you and Gojo. The fire at the tip of its tail provided you with immediate relief.

After a while, the shivering racking your body subsided, and your teeth finally stopped chattering.

“Thank you. Both of you,” you said quietly, breaking the silence. Charizard made a sound that you took as “you’re welcome, I guess,” and Gojo’s arms around you tightened.

“You could’ve died, you know,” Gojo said lowly, his voice tickling the shell of your ear.

“I know,” you answered, squeezing his hands that held yours.

“Why would you put yourself at risk like that?” he asked more calmly than you’d expected, rubbing slow circles into your palms.

“I couldn’t just leave their Eevee out there. It would’ve died,” you said, observing the rain still heavily pouring outside of the cave. There’s not a single doubt in your mind that their Eevee would’ve lost it’s life had you not saved it, either from drowning or from hypothermia.

“Why didn’t you have your pokemon help you? You have water types,” Gojo pressed, leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder, causing you to shiver.

“I couldn’t risk any of them getting injured. They’re too precious to me,” you said.

Gojo heaved a heavy sigh, the warmth of his exhale tickling across the sensitive skin near your nape.

“You and your bleeding heart,” he said, a mixture of resignment and admiration in his voice.

“Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. But I would’ve at least called for help first,” he said, making you laugh.

“Right, how did you know to find me here?” you asked, warm enough to turn in his lap to face him. Your breath caught as you realized just how close he was to you, and you couldn’t help your eyes as they lingered on his perfectly pink lips.

You’d never been close enough to him before to see the little flecks of silver that made his eyes shine. His silvery hair was slightly damp from the rain, a few strands curling around his face that made him seem younger. He was devastatingly beautiful.

He reached out to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I just had a sudden urge to see you. I’ve become so used to seeing your pretty face show up everywhere I go, that I got lonely when you stopped,” he said honestly. You smiled.

“Imagine my surprise when I get here and you’re freezing to death. You really scared me back there,” he said, his throat bobbing.

He was frightened for you. He saved you. He cared about you.

You leaned forward, gingerly wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He returned it immediately, wrapping his hands across your shoulders. His hands traced small circles into your skin, as if he needed to keep touching you to make sure you were still there.

“I’m sorry. Thank you,” you whispered into his ear, rubbing your cheek against the silky skin of his shoulder.

The two of your relaxed in the silence, the sound of the rain and Charizard’s breathing becoming strangely comforting.

The sound of a familiar roar shook you from your thoughts, as Salamence landed at the front of the cave, a package in his mouth.

“Sally!” you yelled, attempting to get up from Gojo’s lap. His long fingers grasped your hips, tugging you back down to him.

“You’re not warm enough yet. Stay,” he said, earning him a warning growl from Salamence.

Salamence shook off the rain at the entrance of the cave, walking towards you. Him and Charizard exchanged a few snarls, but neither of them actually made any moves towards the other.

You stuck your arm out, and Salamence stuck his nose against your palm.

“You okay bud? You’re soaked,” you said, feeling the chill from the rain on his skin. He chuffed, depositing the package in his mouth beside you.

Gojo unwrapped it, finding a set of dry clothes and a few towels. The pokemon centers usually prepared these packages for extreme weather, and the twins must have alerted one of the nurses to send him off with one.

“Good job,” Gojo said, reaching out his hand to pat Salemence. To your complete surprise, Salamence accepted his touch, closing his eyes contently as Gojo scratched his chin.

“Let’s get you changed and head out. I’d rather get you checked out to be safe first, that okay?” Gojo asked, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, checking how warm you were.

You nodded, wishing he would never stop touching you.

Luckily, you narrowly avoided hypothermia or frostbite thanks to Gojo. You were able to recover quickly, and before you knew it you were back at your platform inside of your gym.

“How many challengers do we have today?” you asked your gym assistant, feeding Garchomp a pokepuff.

“Um, one,” he said, eyes darting left to right nervously.

“Just one?” you questioned, noticing how your assistant looked more anxious than usual. You were used to battling 4-5 challengers a day, making sure to give your pokemon ample rest between. It was unusual for you to only have one battle.

“Yes ma’am. He requested he be the only one,” your assistant said, fiddling with his pokedex.

“Requested? Who the hell does this guy think he is,” you said, glaring at the trembling teenager. It was very bold to request to be the only challenger at a gym - it usually implied that the trainer thought very highly of themselves.

“The champion,” Gojo said, stepping up from the staircase, smirking at you cockily.

You furrowed your brows as you stared at the Champion. He was actually dressed in his fighting attire - a dark blue zip-up with his collar popped up, and matching pants. You had to admit he looked damn good in it, even though he looked great in everything.

“You’re challenging me today?” you asked, placing you hands on your hips as you gawked at him in disbelief. To your dismay, Salamence came barreling up to him, nuzzling his side like they were old friends.

“Yup,” he said, happily complying with Salamence’s demands for pets. Gojo walked up to you, stopping just a few feet before you.

“I challenge you, dragon prodigy. If I win, you’ll let me take you out on a date,” he said, flashing an infuriatingly bright smile at you as he winked.

You threw your head back as you shook with laughter. Only he would be extra enough to challenge you to a battle in order to ask you out.

“You’re on, champion,” you said, mirroring his own grin with your own. Salamence roared in excitement, undoubtedly itching to face off with Gojo’s Charizard.

“And don’t you dare hold back on me baby, cuz I sure as hell won’t be holding back on you,” he said, readying the pokeball in his hands.

“I wouldn’t dare. Lets go, Salemence!” you said, watching your pokemon ready his stance in front of you.

But you knew you had already lost - because you were going out with him regardless of the outcome of this battle.

Back at the Pokemon League

“Seems like the dragon gym leader succeeded,” Yuta said, smiling at the news article on his pokedex.

“Indeed. Gojo agreed to stop ditching work as long as we invested more funds into training schools,” Nanami said, kicking a ball back and forth with his Lucario.

“Oh, I was talking about her finally dating Gojo. But it was great that she helped us get him back to work,” Yuta said, showing Nanami the article he was looking at.

Newest Dragon-type Gym Leader spotted holding hands with Pokemon Champion Gojo!

The ends of Nanami’s lips curved up as he smiled, shaking his head.

“It’s about time. He hasn’t shut up about her for years,” Nanami said. Yuta’s light laughter filled the room as he handed his Dusclops an oran berry.

“By the way, why did you have Lucario send her that can of lemonade the first time she came here?” Yuta asked.

“Ah, that,” Nanami began, patting Lucario on the head.

“Gojo got that brand every time he won a battle, back when we were teenagers. I figured it would help her make a good first impression,” he said. Yuta laughed once more.

“Looks like it worked.”

~fin~

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