#saw someone detail what they said in the rolled and i feel a pit forming in my stomach

[doomordestiny]

…what do you mean chip could potentially forget who he is….what do you mean he could lose himself altogether….what…

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

��But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[michelleleewise]

Addicted to You

Pairing: Avenger Loki x shape-shifting female reader

Warnings: all the angst, friends with benefits, y/n catching feels, kinda mean Loki, brief mention of safeword, M/M sex, anal sex (yes, there will be butt stuff, but not in detail), y/n shifts to male form, DomLoki, mildly rough sex, makeup sex, unprotected sex, again nothing too graphic, all the feels.

Summary: you and Loki have been in a "friends with benefits" for a while, but you started wanting more. So you do your best to distance yourself until one night your secret is revealed.....

A/n-i was listening to this song and this came to me and I HAD to get it out!! Lol hope you all enjoy!! Love!! 💚💚💚

You laid on your back, staring at the ceiling when his voice cut through your thoughts "same time next week?" You heard, looking over watching Loki buckle the belt of his pants, arousal pooling between your thighs watching his biceps flex with each movement, the muscles in his strong chest rippling under that perfect skin of his making you clench your thighs together "y/n?" You heard again, your eyes shooting up to his seeing him smile "do you think you will make it that long?" He laughed grabbing his shirt "y...yeah...I'll be fine." You huffed pulling the sheet up covering your chest "are you certain? You look as though you are about to devour me." He laughed again pulling the shirt over his head.

You sighed, looking back to the ceiling "Goodnight Loki." You said closing your eyes. You heard the light rustle of fabric before the bed dipped next to you "y/n, are you..." you cut him off rolling to your side "I'm fine...you better go before someone sees." You rushed out, trying to keep the tremble from your voice when you felt the weight leave the bed. "Very well, goodnight y/n." He whispered. You kept your eyes closed as you heard your door open and close with a quiet click. Turning over you confirmed he was gone, the sudden loneliness threatening to consume you as you got up and headed towards the en suite. You turned on the water, stepping inside you let the hot water flow over you, washing away his touch.

You and Loki had been doing this awhile, "releasing tension" as he phrased it, but if you were honest it was sneaking around, hiding in dark corners, secret rendezvous that no one knew about under the ruse of preparing for missions as he stripped you bare, exposing you to your soul as he happily consumed every part of you...and you let him. You would happily let him drag you to the pits of hell just to feel his touch...his lips exploring every inch of your skin. He was like a drug and you were addicted...you needed him, craved him and you hated yourself for it. You took a deep breath closing your eyes remembering the night a couple of weeks ago at one of Tony's parties when the reality of your situation slapped you in the face.

You sat at the bar, ordering another drink as you watched your secret lover surrounded by a small group of women. "Lady y/n, what are you doing over here?" You heard Thor asked as he took the seat next to you "oh, you know...having fun." You snarked downing your drink as you saw a red headed woman press herself againt Loki. "You should talk with him." Thor said making your eyes shoot to his "I know you like him, you only need tell him." Thor smiled making you laugh "Thor, do you see those women?" You asked watching him turn his head "now you see me?" You asked as he turned back "I'll never measure up to...that." you snarked waving the bartender over. "Y/n, they are vapid, empty vessels...you are so much more then that." He said as you shook your head.

"I'll make you a deal, you go over and talk to him, tell him how you feel and if he is fool enough to turn you down I will never speak of it again." He said making you sigh "and I'll punch him for you." He added making you laugh. "Fine...deal." You said standing up you adjusted your dress taking a deep breath "ok...here goes." You said beginning your walk towards the man you cursed everyday. You knew what was about to happen, but you also knew Thor wouldn't let up so you continued on "maybe he'll actually say yes" you thought as his eyes shot to yours, his body tensing as you came up on him. "H..hey Loki, I was wondering if I could talk to you a sec?" You asked biting your lip seeing him smile "and why would I do that?" He snarked making you fidget.

You shifted on your feet hearing the red head laugh "is she your girlfriend?" She asked as you looked into Loki's eyes "absolutely not...look at her." He said as the small group began laughing. "L..loki, i..." you trailed off watching him wrap his arm around the redhead "hurry up please, I was about to turn in for the night." He smiled looking at her as she giggled "n...nevermind, sorry I bothered you." You said quickly turning and heading back towards the bar, seeing Thor had abandoned you as well you turned back to the dancefloor as Loki's eyes again met yours, grabbing the woman's hand as he led her out towards the hall. You turned back, ordering another drink as you attempted to drown your sorrows. You knew he wasn't yours, you weren't together...but why did it feel like you chest was just ripped open...

You turned off the water, grabbing a towel you walked out to your closet grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank top you got dressed before sitting at your vanity grabbing your brush. You stared at yourself in the mirror, you hair a jumbled mess...as it always was after a tryst with Loki...reaching up you started working out the tangles, the long purple streak poking out as you continued your work. You had always had it as long as you could recall, almost like a birthmark. Smiling remembering Thor and the rest of the team commenting "that's how we always know it's you." Because no matter what shape you took, your purple steak was always there.

You set the brush down turning off the lights as you headed back to bed, climbing in you were overtaken by the sent of Loki that still lingered in the sheets. "Why..." you breathed, feeling a lump in your throat as you rolled over, tears welling in your eyes as your mind finally gave into what your heart decided long ago...you were in love with him...every part of your soul called to him, but you also knew he would never love you in return. "I have to end this." You said to yourself as you pulled the blankets up around you deciding that tomorrow you would put yourself out of your own misery and end the farce with the God.

(Third pov)-

Loki sat in his chair in the library, attempting for the fourth time to read the same paragraph "dammit!" He yelled slamming it shut tossing it on the table. It had been a month since you had told him your "arrangment" was over and his mind continued to reel from the news. It had taken everything in him not to chase after you, fall to his knees and beg you to stay...but he couldn't. He couldn't let anyone find out about you, how he felt about you...it would kill him if something were to happen to you so he did what he did best and kept you at arms length, never allowing you to get close to him. "It was better that way" he had told himself numerous times, but the day you called it off he could see the tears in your eyes despite your efforts, his fingers twitching to cup your cheek, the tiredness in your voice as you told him you couldn't do it anymore making him want to wrap his arms around you and hold you to his chest.

A loud thud sounded from the next room pulling him from his circling thoughts. "What the..." he trailed off getting him up he cracked the door open, seeing a familiar streak of purple as you turned your head looking around. "Shit.." you huffed rubbing your knee looking back down to the end table you apparently ran into. "Keep it down." You scolded the table making Loki smile as you slipped your leather jacket on, leaning over grabbing a gym bag from the floor slinging it over your shoulder. Loki leaned back glancing at the clock seeing it was one in the morning as he turned back to the door, barely able to see you disappear around the corner towards the elevators. "Where are you off to little mouse?" He said stepping out into the room, slowly closing the door behind him he quickly followed after you, stopping at the corner peeking around seeing you shifting back and forth waiting for the elevator.

He leaned back smoothing his shirt as he cleared his throat about to confront you "Loki? What are you doing?" He heard, his head snapping to the side seeing bucky walk out of his room "i...um...you see..." Loki stuttered, looking back around the corner seeing your were gone. Sighing he turned back "I must have been sleepwalking...I'll just head back to my room." Loki said walking past him "thank you for your assistance James." He said patting bucky on the shoulder as he passed. "Uh...no problem." Bucky said running a hand through his hair. Loki made it to his room, quickly shutting the door letting out the breath he was holding. "Why would she be going out so late?" He asked himself as he walked in sitting down on the couch "who is she meeting?" He asked sitting back running a hand through his hair "is she...maybe she is seeing someone." He said closing his eyes "but who goes on a date in the middle of the night?" He said sitting back up.

He needed answers, and you were the only one who could give them to him. He got up turning the lights off before heading to the bedroom, waving his hand he used his seidr to change into his green silk sleep pants as he climbed into bed. "I'll corner her tomorrow, I'll make her tell me." He said confidently as he closed his eyes trying to sleep, his anxiety beginning to rise wondering if you were ok, if you were meeting shady people making him sit back up. "I'll just text her...really quick." He said grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

He unlocked it pulling up the conversation with you, seeing the last message from you was "we need to talk." He sighed, typing a quick "Hello, I just wanted to see how you are doing." Before leaning back against the headboard waiting. What felt like an eternity later a message popped up on his phone, opening it seeing your name "leave me alone Loki." He read, taking a deep breath as he set the phone down. "Well atleast she's ok." He said laying back down he rolled to his side closing his eyes again hoping sleep would find him.

It took Loki three days to finally catch up with you, if he was honest he was impressed by how well you avoided him, until one day there was a team meeting he knew you couldn't get out of. So he sat in the back, glancing at the back of your chair every so often listening to the captain drone on and on about safety procedures when Tony stood up with a smile "ok kids, don't jump off any building or light yourself on fire and stay away from bb guns...meeting ajourned." He said as he walked to the door and everyone stood up. Loki waited patiently for everyone to leave, making his way towards the door when your eyes met his, a sadness in them he hadn't seen before as you quickly looked away grabbing your files you put your head down walking towards the door "y/n, may I have a moment?" He asked seeing your eyes close as you stopped.

"What is it Loki?" You asked still not looking at him. "why haven't you been speaking to me?" He asked as gently as possible as you shook your head "ive been busy, I need to go." You said grabbing the door knob when he put his hand on yours "y/n please, i...I miss you." He said as your eyes shot to his, up close he saw the dark circles hovering just beneath your red puffy eyes making his heart ache "i...we are still friends are we not?" He asked taking a small step forward "Loki...i...." you trailed off looking down again "i...I can't be that for you right now." You whispered gripping the knob tighter "why? I thought..." he was cut off as you yanked your hand back "I just...I can't ok!" You yelled making him jump "i can't be around you right now!" You yelled again clenching your fists "what have I done? Tell me...because our agreement was...that wouldn't ruin our friendship." He said raising his voice.

"Loki, drop it." You growled stepping towards the door "no, I will not!" Loki yelled making you flinch "I want to know what I have done to make you hate me." He said searching your eyes. "I...I don't hate you Loki i..." you looked done squeezing your eyes shut "just...leave me alone ok." You said quickly opening the door before he could say anything else slamming the it behind you. Loki stood staring at the spot you had just occupied, his mind running a mile a minute as he tried to understand what went wrong between you. Clearing his throat he smoothed his shirt down slowly opening the door seeing Thor in the hallway "is everything alright brother? Y/n seemed upset." He asked as Loki walked past him "everything is perfect." He sneered as he made his way to his room. "If she isn't going to talk to me, then I'll follow her." He said to himself as he grabbed a book and sat in his chair, making sure to keep an eye on the clock.

Loki made his way to the common room around the time you left last time. Making sure to cloak himself so you wouldn't see him he patiently waited until he heard footsteps coming down the hall, your head slowly peaking out around the corner "ok good." You whispered as you made your way again towards the elevators, looking over your shoulder constantly as you pushed the button. "Come on." You said shifting back and forth when it dinged, the doors sliding open you ran inside quickly pushing the button to the bottom floor. Loki followed you for what felt like an eternity before coming up on a dimly lit building, neon signs on the outside claiming it to be some sort of bar he watched you run inside, quickly following after you but as he walked in you were nowhere to be seen. "Shit." He muttered as he dropped his seidr.

He looked around seeing everyone in ripped jeans and t-shirts. The smell of cigarette smoke heavy in the packed room. "Where did you go little mouse." He said to himself making his way to the bar "what can I get ya?" The bartender asked tossing a towel over his shoulder "whiskey please." Loki said quickly flicking his wrist he changed onto the appropriate clothing as the bartender brought over a glass and bottle "what is this place?" Loki asked the man as he set a few dollar bills on the bar "just a place where people can let off a little steam." The man said grabbing the money as he walked off when another man walked out onto a stage at the front of the room "Alright everyone, you know what time it is!" The man yelled as everyone began cheering "he's finally made it, so without further ado I give you...Adam!" He yelled as everyone got up and rushed the stage.

Loki sat at the bar as the lights dimmed, a spotlight shining in the middle of the stage seeing a tall red headed man wearing black ripped jeans and combat boots, a dark grey sweatshirt with with an odd design on the front rolled up to his elbows walked out holding a forest green electric guitar "Hey eveyone! Sorry I was late." He said, Loki squinted at the man as he spoke, there was something oddly familiar about him but he couldn't quite place it "this song is dedicated to someone..." he trailed off looking down "just...someone." He said turning to look at the band, Loki's eyes widening seeing a streak of purple in the mans long crimson hair, the shine in his eyes calling to him under the thick layer of black eyeliner "y/n." He whispered slowly standing up. "And one...two...three..." you said grabbing the microphone with both hands.

I'm so addicted to....All the things you do,

When you're going down on me....In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make, With every breath you take, It's unlike anything....When you're loving me

Loki looked on speechless as you wrapped your long fingers around the neck of the guitar, your black nail polish reflecting the light as you l pressed your lips back to the microphone.

Ooh, boy, let's take it slow

So as for you, well....you know where to go

I wanna take my love and hate you 'til the end

It felt like a string was attached to him pulling him forward as his feet carried him closer to the stage, mesmerized as your fingers danced along the neck of the guitar.

It's not like you to turn away, From all the bullshit I can't take....It's not like me to walk away

He watched you screw your eyes shut, leaning into the mic as you inhaled deeply.

I'm so addicted to....All the things you do

When you're going down on me, in between the sheets, Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take, it's unlike anything

When you're loving me....Yeah

You took a small step back, looking down at your fingers as you strummed your guitar, your long hair curtaining your eyes as you bobbed your head up and down.

And I know when it's getting rough....All the times we spend

Trying to make this love something better than

Just making up again

"Someone..." loki breathed, watching you rock back and forth keeping your eyes closed as you shook your head slightly.

It's not like you to turn away

All the bullshit I can't take

Just when I think I can walk away

Loki watched you spread your legs wide, one foot stomping on the floor to the rhythm of the drums. You were majestic...ethereal like this.

I'm so addicted to, All the things you do

When you're going down on me

In between the sheets...oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It's unlike anything...I'm so addicted to

The things you do....When you're going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make...With every breath you take

It's unlike anything....When you're loving me

Yeah.....When you're loving me

You practically screamed the lyrics, the emotion bleeding through your voice into the mic as you stepped back, taking long strides across the stage, your fingers moving rapidly up and down the arm as you played your solo. When you turned and went back to the mic Loki watched your eyes open, his heart breaking seeing a tear slide down your cheek

How can I make it through

All the things you do

There's just gotta be more to you and me

Your voice wavering at the last word as you put your head down again and backed up Loki could swear he heard a sniffle as you lunged forward your hand slamming down across the strings

I'm so addicted to....All the things you do

When you're going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make....With every breath you take

It's unlike anything....It's unlike anything

I'm so addicted to....All the things you do

When you're going down on meeeeee

Oh, the sounds you make....With every breath you take

It's unlike anythiiiiiiing......I'm so addicted to you

Addicted to you.....

With a last hard strum you held your arms out putting your head down as the mass of people screamed and hollered. The claps almost deafening making Loki wince as he looked up to you again seeing you smile but it didn't reach your eyes, the black eyeliner you had on running down your cheek "thank you everyone, you've all been amazing!" You yelled pulling the guitar over your head he watched you retreat to the side of the stage. "Let's give it up again for adam!" The announcer yelled as Loki walked towards the stage door seeing a large man blocking the door when a small group of woman ran up "can we see adam?" One asked jumping up and down. Loki felt a pain shoot through his chest, his cheeks heating up at the thought of what you were doing back there, were these strangers better then him...is that why you broke things off, you were getting your fill here...he thought when the man cleared his throat "no visitors tonight ladies, sorry." He said as they whined making Loki smile.

Loki looked up to the stage, seeing where you walked to empty. He closed his eyes concentrating, opening them seeing a small hallway leading to the back. "Now where are you?" He said taking long strides down the hall, looking back to make sure no one saw him when he came up to a door with a bright yellow star taped to it, "Adam" written in bold letters "there you are." He said to himself walking up to the door he looked down the hall again seeing he was alone as he lifted his fist to knock when a sniffle reached his ears making him freeze. "Y/n" He whispered, pressing his ear to the door heard a small whimper "why...why you." He heard you voice tremble before backing up. Taking a deep breath he raised his hand again knocking when he heard footsteps on the other side. "I said no..." you trailed off opening the door, your body stiffening as your eyes met.

Loki stood frozen on the spot taking you in having never seen you in this form before. you were almost as tall as him, your jeans hugging your lean frame perfectly, your hair reminding him of the widows as it swept across your forehead, but he knew...his heart knew it was you as his eyes met yours again "Adam I believe?" Loki asked smiling "um..yeah..yes." you stuttered not breaking eye contact "may I come in?" Loki asked seeing you fidget with your hand "um...sure." You said stepping to the side letting him in. "I rather enjoyed your song, you are very talented." Loki said walking in looking around the small room "um...thanks." You said closing the door. "You must be very popular with the ladies yes?" Loki asked crossing his arms hearing you laugh "i...maybe...I don't know." You shrugged walking to the middle of the room.

"You know...you remind me of someone." Loki said taking a step towards you "oh?" You muttered looking to your feet "yes, they are very dear to me...a friend, well...was until recently." Loki said taking another step forward "but you see...I was a fool." He continued as your eyes met his "I never told them what was in my heart...and I'm afraid I may have lost them." He continued coming to stand in front of you "w...well you could talk to them...tell her." You said as Loki shook his head looking down "no, words are meaningless, empty...i...I must show her how I feel." Loki said looking back up to you. "H...how?" You asked biting your lip "oh my dove..." loki whispered reaching his hand up running this thumb along your lip pulling it from between your teeth as he leaned forward, his nose brushing yours "I will spend every day showing you...telling you...proving to you how much you mean to me." He breathed "Loki..." you whispered as he closed the gap, gently pressing his lips to yours.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hand tangling in his long curls deepening the kiss. Pulling his hair at the nape he moaned against your lips as you slipped you tongue into his mouth tangling with his when you felt his arm snake around your side pulling your hips to his as he growled into your mouth when he suddenly pulled back biting your lip "have you ever been taken in this form?" He panted kissing you again as he walked you backwards, your back meeting the wall as his lips traveled across your jaw, his hand holding the side of your head as he nipped the skin of your neck "n...no..." you panted, arching your back into him as he sucked hard on your pulse point, your nails digging into his shoulder. "Mmm...may I be your first?" He panted against your skin, leaning back looking into your eyes everything hitting you at once "I love you Loki." You breathed feeling tears well in your eyes, a weight lifting off your chest at finally confessing "I love you too, I love you so much." He smiled "I am so sorry I didn't say it sooner." He said cupping your cheek "be with me y/n, be mine...no more hiding, no more sneaking around...I wish everyone to know that my heart is yours, and only yours." Loki said. You couldn't stop the sob that passed your lips hearing his words as tears steamed down your cheeks.

"Please...make me yours Loki." You whispered as his lips crashed to yours, kissing you passionately as he pressed you into the wall, the salt of your tears mixing with the taste of him making you groan as he rocked his hips against yours feeling his hard length press against your stomach "Loki..." you breathed against his lips as he pulled back flipping you around pressing your front to the wall "remember that night we wanted to try something new?" He whispered in your ear, a shudder running through you at the memory "y...yes." you moaned feeling his fingers at the button of your jeans "relax for me...I'll be gentle." He breathed against the skin under your ear as he bit down "aahh...loki..." you moaned as his hand slid down, his long fingers wrapping around your cock

"f...fuck.." you moaned, your head falling back against his shoulder as he rocked his hips against your ass "mm...im impressed." He said slowly moving his hand up and down "I may need to feel you one day." He moaned digging his other hand into your hair, tilting your head his lips met yours his tongue diving past you parted lips licking into your mouth. Rocking your hips with his hand you felt the familiar tightening in your lower stomach as he sped up, crying out as his thumb swiped along the tip "feels good doesn't it?" Loki panted smiling down at you "f...fuck...yes..." you panted bracing your hands on the wall "ah ah...not yet my dove." He whispered slowly releasing you, unable to stop the whimper at the loss of his touch hearing him laugh "l...loki...please..." you moaned rocking your hips back into his.

"Patience, I have to prepare you first." Loki said when you heard a bottle pop open "spread those beautiful legs for me." He whispered in your ear as you quickly did what he asked "good boy." He breathed, a tingle running up your spine feeling his fingers at the hem of your jeans "deep breaths, I will go slow." He purred pulling your jeans down "and if you wish to stop..." he said stopping his movements "s...say Asgard." You panted closing your eyes feeling his breath against your ear "good boy." He whispered nipping your ear when you felt his hand cup you ass "mmm....you never cease to amaze me." He said as you felt something cold press between your cheeks "are you ready dove?" He asked as you nodded "I need to hear you say it." He said stenrly gripping your hair "aahh y..yes!" You cried out feeling his long finger slip past your tight hole "Mm very good..." he purred into your ear as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in.

"f...fuck...Loki...." you moaned feeling him add another finger "almost there darling, keep breathing for me." He cooed as he added a third, your back arching as his finger grazed that spot inside you "Mm there it is." He moaned rocking his hips into you. You were a panting moaning mess when he suddenly stopped "i...I have to feel you." He moaned slowly pulling his fingers from you, whining at the emptiness "ah ah...be a good boy." He cooed lifting his hand a green light flashed over you, shivering as the cold air hit your bare skin. "That's better." He purred, freezing feeling his cock press between your cheeks "deep breath...and relax." He said as he genlty kicked your legs further apart, his hand gripping your hip pulling you towards him. "I...I'm ready." You moaned feeling his cock press against your entrance

"very good." He purred as he began to press into you "gooods...y/n." He moaned as he pulled back slightly before pressing further in "aaahh...sh...shit...." you gasped as he stretched you to your limit "that's it dove." He praised, slowly pushing forward "your taking me...aaahhh so...well." he moaned as he snapped his hips forward, digging your nails into the wall crying out as he bottomed out. "F...fuck y...your so...big." you panted screwing your eyes shut hearing him laugh "and your s...so tight." He growled shifting his hips letting you adjust to him. "Loki please....move..." you groaned needing to feel him immediately. "As you wish dove." He said pressing his chest to your back his fingers dug into your hip hard as he slowly pulled back "you are...divine." he moaned as he rocked back into you, your hand reaching around gripping his thigh as he sped up "f....fuck....lo...." you groaned when his hand dug into your hair.

pulling your head back his tongue dove into your mouth when you felt his other hand slide around your front his fingers wrapping tightly around your cock "aaahh...god...." you moaned into his mouth as his hand sped up, feeling yourself twitch in his tight grip "come for me y/n....give me everything." He panted against your lips as you came hard, screaming his name to the heavens like a prayer gasping at the sensation "f..fuck....that's it...." he growled snapping his hips hard into you. "C....come inside me Loki...I...I need it." You growled.

his hand gripped your hip, the other lacing around your chest, his fingers digging into your shoulder holding you tight to his chest his, you knew there would be bruises making you smile "f..fuck....guder ... du eier meg .." he panted, his hot breath licking the skin of your neck as he planted his feet, his hips slamming into you "hjerte og sjel...jeg er din...aahhh fuck....y/n i....i jeg elsker deg duen min!" He yelled as he thrust hard into you, holding himself there you gasped feeling him fill you, his cock twitching inside you "h...holy s...shit...." he panted laying his head on your shoulder he rocked his hips slowly riding through his high as he stilled inside you. "L...loki...." you panted turning your head "y..you...you are Valhalla my dear." He said slowly lifting his head he eased out of you, shivering feeling his seed seep out down your thigh "allow me." He breathed, raising his hand a wave of green washed over you again cleaning you up when your thoughts began to race.

"What are you thinking dove?" He asked as you turned to face him, your clothes rematerializing "umm, is this...was that because im..." you started, waving your hand over yourself looking down "y/n, look at me." He said sternly making you look back up "it's just that...I know you've been with men too, and that's ok!...I just..." you were cut off by his lips on yours, this time it was soft...loving...like he was trying to convey everything into the kiss before he pulled back cupping your face "yes, I have been with men, and women..." he said caressing your cheeks with his thumbs "but this...you and i...is because I love you...in whatever form you are in...I love your heart, your soul, your spirit, your kindness...I love you y/n and only you." He said sternly leaving no room for argument.

You nodded smiling up at him "I love you too Loki, so much it hurts." You said as he leaned forward pecking your lips before pulling you into a tight hug. "I know we started off a bit backwards, but I would like to court you, take you to dinner, the theater, anything you want." He said kissing the top of your head "I'd like that, very much Loki." You said as he pulled back smiling at you "and I was thinking...if you want to..." he smiled, a pink flush on his cheeks "I can umm...I can shift into a female form." He said looking sheepishly at you making you smile "loki laufeyson...I believe your blushing." You laughed seeing his cheeks turn a deeper red "I would still be in charge of course." He said clearing his throat. "That's what you think." You snarked grabbing his hand

"Let's go home..." you said pulling him towards the door "we can go to my room and watch a movie." You smiled opening the door "I'd like that very much." He said following behind you "and maybe you can show me this...form of yours." You winked seeing his cheeks brighten again "as you wish my dove." He said smiling. "And by the way." You said grabbing his shoulders pinning him to the wall you leaned forward pressing your lips to his ear "if you don't behave...I'll bend you over my knee." You whispered feeling him shiver, pulling back seeing his usual pale skin red "y...yes ma'am." He stuttered making you smile. "Good boy." You winked pecking his cheek as you pulled him along behind you, excited to see what the future had in store for you and your king.

Translations-

guder ... du eier meg ..--gods...you own me...

hjerte og sjel...jeg er din--heart and soul...i am yours

jeg elsker deg duen min--i love you my dove

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[chameleonspell]

HTDC commentary - 4: falling

[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]

chapter text: 4: falling

These early chapters tend to be short and jump forward in time lot, because I was just skipping to the next turning point, and Iriel isn't spending enough time with other people for there to be much interesting going on between. Especially now, because he's gonna be unconscious for a lot of it.

Much later, certain people would gravely refer to this period of Iriel’s life as one during which he “lost himself”

I had no idea who was supposed to have told Iriel this, later, and I still can't think who would be a plausible candidate. I said this purely for rhetorical effect. I feel like this makes me an unreliable narrator of my own story, though I'm not sure that's technically possible.

His conscious mind, cast adrift on an overwhelming ocean of sensation, became reduced to scattered thoughts and isolated impressions.

Seems like Ire was tripping on nature, before he was even tripping on sugar. I probably should have been less dreamily effusive, here, and saved it for the on-drugs bit, but I just really love the Bitter Cost! You don't need drugs to appreciate the Swamp! Despite the apparent similarities of the Pit being Iriel's shame and depression, Iriel being in the swamp was never at all the same metaphor, though it took until chapter 153 for me to really explicate this properly. Being in the swamp is mostly positive, if soggy. The swamp is comforting and accepting. The swamp doesn't judge.

The spongey texture of the luminous mushrooms he collected obsessively, and the ssschlucking sound they made when he yanked them out of the damp soil to lay them out in order of size and colour on the moss.

I got really into mushrooms (as organism, not drug!) after I wrote Iriel an obsession with them. Be very careful what interests you give fictional characters, because if you identify with them too hard, it's very easy to catch it off them.

All Ire knew was that he had found two small cloth bags of crystalline white powder underneath a crate on a small jetty, and that when he put a finger in and licked it, everything got better.

The story started with a concept and a shape, but no detail - that mostly came out of gameplay, at the start. The moon sugar was a happy accident, finding the bags in a random smuggler loot sack, and realising...  why wouldn't he?

Moon sugar is described as a numbing and euphoria-inducing drug, similar to an opiate. It's also the soft option, compared to its more refined form, skooma, so Iriel's still in the narcotics kiddie-pool, really. That said, we also know these drugs affect TES races differently, with men and mer being affected far more strongly than Khajiit. And we know that Altmer specifically are more sensitive to magic (for better and worse) than other races. Thus, Iriel is having quite an extreme reaction.

he found himself falling: into the glowing colours, into the soft, yielding swamp, and not caring, because when he spat mud and rolled over onto his back, he found himself falling into the sky.

The whole "sad elves falling in swamps" thing is, I admit, a private joke. Because someone once (somehow, unaccountably) found my website by googling for the string "sexy women falling in swamps", and when I saw it in the search referrals, I laughed about it for days.

The night skies of Morrowind are stunningly beautiful, viewed sober. Moon sugar rendered them a religious experience.

Morrowind skies being best skies is just facts. @valtheimm illustrated this scene beautifully:

If I say that he spent long hours lying in the mud, staring at the fractal patterns at the end of fern fronds, I’m sure you can fill in the rest for yourselves. Let’s skip to the end.

I guess I wasn't too consistent with the first person narration, but the narrator was there from the start! It just fell into the background, when other things were happening, or the scene didn't want that sort of external comment, only to re-emerge later, and make people question me about where it came from.

Who is the narrator? Me, just me, the author. Nothing complicated. I was used to books where that kind of thing is common, as a random interjection. I was reading a George Eliot book at the time, and she's always interrupting the action to discuss her characters in first person. It creates a sense of ironic distance, so you don't want to have it all the time, usually you want to be right there in the characters emotions. Other times, you want to add that distance, and deliberately get out of the character's head.

Here, we are watching Iriel flopping about the swamp from a distance, because he's out of his mind, so we are, too. We can go back closer when he returns to himself, try and feel the shock of that with him as much as we can.

Where he came from, the gods were not thought to actively involve themselves in the lives of their worshippers. This was part of what made them so admirable.

TES sets up a whole lot of metaphysical binaries, but the key one is Anu and Padomay, which for our purposes means stasis and change. This comes in a lot more later, but that bog body metaphor is already looking a bit prescient, innit? Here, we can just note that Iriel's home gods are the Aedra, which are Anuic, and therefore both unchanging and incapable of intervening or causing change themselves. Iriel thinks that in Morrowind, where other gods apply, things might be different.

Lying back down and dying was tempting, but Ire hadn’t survived this long by letting that part of his brain have its way.

Iriel is physically unimposing, cries easily and doesn't exactly tick many boxes on the socially-mandated "ideal masculinity" chart. He's scared of everything, because many things have hurt him, and life hasn't equipped him with many tools to defend himself. Does that make him "a weak person", as he himself believes? Or is he strong, for surviving, despite the odds stacked against him, for persisting regardless? What does it mean to be weak or strong, and is weakness even a bad thing? Questions I kept on coming back to, throughout the story.

Iriel is far from morally perfect, and sometimes does selfish things, especially while he's addicted to drugs. There wouldn't be much of a story, if he didn't make a total mess of his life, and have to try and clean it up. But he is strong, in lots of ways, and he will manage to be a hero, in lots of ways. Making him "an effeminate gay stereotype" was very deliberate. Because sure, that's a stereotype, but not for the hero. It's for villains and cheap-laugh side characters, where it gets laced with a lot of other homophobic tropes. Queer heroes, where they exist, tend to be indistinguishable from straight characters, beyond their sexuality - and that's nothing like the real people I know, it's nothing like me or my friends! Femme gay men exist, and are wonderful and diverse and incredibly powerful, actually.

Real-life queer people can't be stereotypes by definition, instead they have to constantly live with how their personal expression is interpreted and policed and refracted into cheap stereotypes by the dominant culture, stereotypes which are then used against them. I wanted to write a character going through that experience, that negotation of an imposed stereotype that has some truth to it, albeit in ways that the people using it against you don't understand. To be up-front about this: I'm queer, but I'm not a gay man, so I was always aware of the danger that I might misjudge something, and screw up. I tried to keep Iriel's specifically gay aspects as grounded as I could in non-fictional people I knew, or had read things by. In the case of real-life friends, I pray I changed enough details on any embarrassing anecdotes I stole that they can't recognise themselves here, and get mad at me.

Iriel set out in search of structure.

The moon sugar was extremely useful, narratively speaking. See, the wonderful thing about an addiction to hard drugs -- this sounds like I'm being facetious, but I've heard heroin addicts say exactly this -- is that it gives you something to do, when your life has no meaning. It forces action. You can't just lie face-down in the swamp forever. You have to go out, and get money, and get drugs. Which forces you, especially if the money part is challenging, into situations.

Playlist pick: Sparklehorse - Spirit Ditch. This is a song to lie in a swamp and get high to. By Mark Linkous, another junkie. Died by suicide in 2010. You always hope when someone writes songs that sad, that it means they have some kind of… answer. A different one, I mean.

next: 5: slide & 6: trap previous: 3: breathe

[acourtofsnakes]

Desolation - Freefall, Chapter 4 || The Bad Batch x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Can you always trust a Force vision? Knowing what Anakin saw of his mother, you've always believed in them. But the things you see... They might just be the end of you.

Warnings: 18+, TBB Season 2 finale spoilers, extensive injuries, descriptions of drugs, blood, falls, canon violence and weapons, swearing, nicknamed reader (Ghost)

A/N: A good chunk of this chapter will describe in detail the events of the finale. I wrote this chapter shortly after watching it and needed to get that emotion out somewhere. I am more than happy to send an edited version without those scenes, just shoot me a message✨

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist

Now

During your time with the boys, you had never felt a hand of violence. Never seen anger in their eyes, never seen them look upon you in disgust or confusion. You had never watched their expression glaze over when you went on an infodump about something, and they never rolled their eyes when you struggled to explain the howling storm inside your head and chest. 

Even after everything, Crosshair never laid a hand in you with the intention to hurt. Ever. 

There may have been fury in his eyes sometimes but there was never violence toward you. 

Not from any of them. 

Not like now. 

Your body screamed, howled with agony every time your heart struggled to beat, to push blood around your shattered form. 

Every breath was a mixture of fires hotter than Mustafar, ice colder than Hoth and lightning fiercer than Kamino. As if someone was pouring jet fuel into your lungs and setting it ablaze.

You didn’t feel the cold anymore though, so that was something. 

Everything was a drug fuelled haze, the very life, the Force, in you choked and restrained, leaving you shaking, numb, cut off from the world and the living energy of everything. 

It was like being in a pit in the darkest, deepest corner of the Galaxy. 

Of course, there were days where you were in somewhere just like that. 

Not a pi though, but a box. 

A coffin, almost. They’d found it in the rubble of the Clone War, copied its designs and commissioned a handful to be made for moments like this. 

If it could hold Darth Maul, it could hold you.

That’s what they said. 

You’d never be able to break out of that, regardless of your power being up by what Anakin’s used to be. 

Don’t worry about her, she’s too weak to be a threat. Not anymore. 

Were you still a threat? 

You didn’t know now. 

You flexed your fingers as much as you could, feeling the dried blood crack on your skin, thick and itchy. 

They hadn’t bothered to clean you off before they hauled you in here, the screams of their brethren still echoing from your loss of control, the moment where you snapped and let that beast rage free. 

I let it out, Crosshair. 

But you weren’t there to see it. 

None of you were. 

The liquid they pumped into you felt heavy in your veins, sick, wrong. It dragged through your body, leaving it icy cold and numb. The force presence in your soul was limp, whimpering in agony from the effects of the cage, so ravaged that it couldn’t even alert you to the fact this drug was poison of the worst kind, chugging slowly towards your brain. 

It was slow enough that you felt it, felt the way it left nothing behind, dragging the life from your body so delicately, so painfully that it was as if you felt every single limb go dead and weak. 

You were effectively paralysed, lungs feeling like duracrete was being poured into them, each breath like shallow fire. 

It slowed down your heart, so slowly you swore you could hear each tendon and muscle pushing blood that was too thick and too cold into unresponsive veins.

Then it reached your mind.

It paused, as if assessing where to begin but then it tore through your mental shields, destroying you so potently from within that you were out cold in less than a second, flung into a heavy oblivion that weighed in from all sides, stuffing down your throat and ears, strangling you within your own body, leaving you defenceless and subservient as that crackling, thundering fight dragged out of you in an instant.

~~

You were crushed in that awful place for what felt like forever yet no time at all, for then you were dumped into the middle of a storm, the sky roaring in fury, crashing, echoing like it was trying to come apart as harsh lightning forked across the sky with enough power to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

Then you were knocked sideways between one blink and the next, suddenly on a traincart hundreds and hundreds of feet in the air. It was rocking heavily side to side, that sickening screech of metal protesting as it barely hung on. 

Bright, searing bolts shot past on all sides, whizzing through the air from the TIE fighters advancing in relentless waves. 

It was clear that luck was not on the boy's side, even though you flung your hands out to try and deflect the bolts. But nothing happened. Nothing. 

“Hunter!!! Hunter, we need to get this cart moving, they’re going to swarm us.” You looked around frantically for something, anything to help… Yet Hunter didn’t respond. He just kept firing, like he hadn’t heard you. 

That was weird. 

You frowned at the side of his face, drawing your sabers and you lifted them to try and deflect this way - but the shots went straight through. 

It’s like… Like you weren’t here. 

Present yet invisible. 

Confusion clouded your mind until a memory surfaced from the fog, one of Anakin, frantically pacing in front of you, sandy hair in wild disarray as he recounted the dreams he had been having of his mother, how he was there with her but could do nothing. 

Visions, brought forward through the force, sometimes seconds in advance, sometimes right in that moment. 

Which meant whilst you were here, bound and gagged in a beskar box, your boys were fighting for their lives. 

And you could do nothing to help. 

There were no words for the terror you were feeling, side by side with Hunter as he fought for his life, shooting down TIE fighters with nothing but his blasters, but for every single fighter that fell from the sky, another took its place, battering the cart with relentless shots. 

“Hurry up, Tech!!!” Wrecker’s strained voice rumbled from somewhere behind you, and you spun round to see Omega and Wrecker hovering at the end of the card, Wrecker’s hands wrapped around the very framework of the adjoining one and his muscles rippling as he fought to keep it stable. 

But then that meant…

Your heart dropped somewhere to the ground below, and you raced across the cart, the debris causing you no trouble as you simply passed through it like a phantom. Thankfully, that would mean your weight couldn’t shift anything, because…

Because what you saw over Wrecker’s shoulder was enough to churn your stomach and rip away every single breath and coherent thought you had. 

Tech was dangling below the destroyed cart, his grappling line looped around the frame as he pulled himself up as quick as he could, one hand over the other, up up up but it felt like he was gaining no ground, still stuck in the same place as another wave of attacks rattled the entire structure. Metal screeched and rumbled, the sound tearing through your limbs because there was only one way this thing was going to end.

Omega sobbed, dancing on her feet behind Wrecker, her bow drawn in readiness but the tears building in her eyes were going to make any target a blurry mess. You would know, you felt the same. “Come on, Tech, just a little more, you have to hurry!!” The fear in her words was so potent, so raw that it caused a sob to wrack in your chest and you looked down at Tech, wishing you could be there, could be truly beside these boys so you could help.

You could have had him up now, safe, all of them safe. 

“I can’t keep them back for much longer, there’s too many of them!!” For the first time in the entire time you knew him, there was panic in Hunter’s words, a franticness that was so different to his usual composure. 

It was like that moment in a bad dream, the second right before you fell, that one moment where primal instinct told you that you couldn’t make it. That nothing you did would get you out of this. 

Tech looked over his shoulder at the rising attacks, the whir and hum of more fighters approaching, the onslaught of enemy fire becoming something that would be impossible to fight, even if you had been there with sabers in hand, “Wrecker, you must take Omega and Hunter and leave me, get back to Echo. Now!” 

No, no no no no no - you knew that tone. You’d heard that tone from so many of your friends, so many of your loved ones over the years. And it always ended in agony. 

“No.” Wrecker’s snarl was more animal than human, violent almost in its outright intense refusal. “Don’t you dare. That’s an order, Tech.” 

Omega was choking on sobs now, trying to get past Wrecker but he was managing to block her as well as hold onto the bars, “Tech no, please!! Please don’t do this, you can get up, you can do it!” She threw her bow to the side, ducking underneath Wrecker’s arm and she flung her own out into open space, “Here! Take my hand, take it!! I can pull you up - please Tech!” Her body was hanging far too close over the edge, and Wrecker shifted, his boot coming across to in front of her knees, bracing her but he made no moves to stop her - he couldn’t. 

Tech slowly looked up, his honey eyes heavy and weighted. Knowing. “When have we ever followed orders, Wrecker?” He sounded weary, as if… As if he’d already accepted what was to happen. He lifted his hand, his blaster nestled between his fingers and he took aim at the bolts holding the cart to the line, his aim as sure as Crosshair’s, as calculated and perfect. “Bring Ghost home safe.” 

And then if in slow motion, his finger squeezed down on the trigger, the blaster bolt cutting through the air, through your heart. 

Time sped up again and your silent scream tore through your body, helpless to be heard or to help, yet echoed by Wrecker’s roar of anguish as the structure slipped through his palms, cutting deep. 

Omega’s mirroring scream as both Tech and the cart fell, his eyes drifting to the space where you were, widening for a second as if he could see you there. 

~

Before you could do anything, you were flung sideways, everything going black before it exploded into colour again, damp clouds flashing past your vision, the sickening sense of every organ, every drop of blood being propelled the opposite way as your body hurtled toward the ground with unstoppable force.

You were in Tech’s body.

It was only when the clouds, smoke and debris blocked his vision that he allowed himself a cry of fear, instantly snatched away by the wind, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. 

Through the haze of terror in his brain, he frantically tried to think of a way out of this, think of something he could do, something he could use to stop his fall and get back to his brothers - but he came up empty. There was nothing. He couldn’t do anything.

He could only watch the display through his visor, the number of feet dropping so quickly that the symbols were a blur as the ground came racing up toward him. 

At least he managed to save his brothers, give them the chance they needed to escape, to get to you and save you. 

Bring you home, finally.

A sense of peace washed over him, washed over you, the pair of you spinning through the air, down, down, down. 

When his descent dropped into triple figures, he closed his eyes. A single breath, drawn in, filling his lungs, his last image not that of the debris rushing down to meet him, but of his family. 

All of his brothers, together, laughing with Omega. 

Of you, in the middle, laughing with your head tipped back and not an inch of a stormcloud weighing down on any of you. 

Double figures.

Then single.

Then… Nothing.

He was gone. 

~

Yet, if you thought this vision would end there, you were so very wrong. 

Now, you were in Hunter’s body, silence raging in his head above the chaos of battle around him, because he could no longer hear his brother’s rapid heartbeat. 

He heard the impact, the thud of bone on duracrete, the screech of metal - a cacophony of sounds that would hound him for the rest of his days. 

He couldn’t think. 

Couldn’t do anything.

Tech was gone, he was dead, and he could do nothing to stop it. 

He had failed his brothers, and he had failed you.

He wasn’t a leader, and he never would be. 

A leader wouldn’t let their family die. 

Seconds flew past, maybe hours and you were suddenly with Hunter, Omega, Echo and Wrecker, into the parlour. 

The very still, very quiet parlour.  

Empty. 

Desolate. 

Like a literal ghost, you travelled through the Force alongside Hunter, as he knocked on the door to a back room and entered. 

Omega was sitting up in the cot inside, hugging Lula to her chest, tears still tracking silently down her bruised cheeks.

Whatever had happened in the latest vision jump had caused her injuries as well, scrapes on her arms too. Something else that ripped guilt through him, and you. 

“Tell me this is all a dream, Hunter.” Omega’s voice was so torn, so broken as she looked at Lula’s face, hands squishing her plush body, “Tell me none of this is real and I’ll wake up and everyone will still be here.” 

Hunter swallowed, his eyes squeezing shut for a second, pain evident in every line of his body, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time we stop fighting and… rest.” Even now, the words felt foreign in his mouth, “The time we had on Pabu, it was what we all needed, I think.” He looked down at his hands, hanging loosely between his spread thighs, “We’re going to clear things up officially with Cid, then head there. To stay. Be a.. Be a family.” 

Omega’s lower lip trembled again, a sob breaking free and her little body bowed forward over her knees, crushing Lula to her chest, “A family? Half of our family is gone, Hunter.” Her words were almost indistinguishable through her sobs, pain that a child should never feel, even though technically, she was older than them.

But without the accelerated ageing, she was still a child. And despite how well she kept up, she wasn’t a soldier. 

Hunter’s face collapsed, his back straightening as he watched her crumble, his own eyes glassy and he whispered, near silently, “I really wish you were here, Ghost.” He shuffled over on the bed, winding an arm around Omega’s shoulders, and then coaxing her into his chest. 

You were almost expecting it this time, being going through the Force, but it was only a few metres now. 

The main parlour, only an hour later by the looks of the dusty chrono on the wall. 

Wrecker looked up from his slumped over position at the bar, their usual table too painful and too full of memories, “She okay?” His voice was devoid of its usual fervour, his usual energy sapped from him. 

From your space across the parlour, you could see the anguish etched on his face. 

He was the strong one of the team, the literal muscle that always forced their way through any situation where delicacy didn’t work. 

He was the one holding the train cart. 

He should have been strong enough. 

He should have saved Tech. 

Hunter shook his head, pausing in the middle of the parlour, at a loss at where to put himself, “No. Not at all.” He sighed, head ducking down to stare at the floor, his hands curling into fists, “I don’t know how to make this right, Wrecker. We were supposed to save Ghost. We were supposed to get Crosshair back. We weren’t supposed to…” 

Wrecker turned on his stool, facing Hunter and by theory, you. “This wasn’t your fault, Hunter. This…” He sighed, slumping even more, “It just went wrong.” 

Hunter opened his mouth, but he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up again with sluggish warning. 

But, yet again, for what seemed to be the hundredth time lately… he was too slow. 

The parlour was filled with the unwelcome sound of swift feet marching in, controlled and precise footsteps, the clatter of armour plates against one another. 

The doorways were suddenly choked with the imposing presence of the Commando’s, their visors glowing the dim white-blue that was a painful reminder of your sabers. 

Wrecker was off his stool in an instant, his rage and pain fuelling him as he leapt for the closest handful despite the brace around his neck. 

“Wrecker!!!” Hunter lunged for his brother, yanking his blade free but more Commandos came flooding in, cutting them off from each other. 

He too engaged with the closest enemy, delivering a swift blow to the Commando’s arm, causing him to drop his weapon and allowing Hunter to plunge his blade between the armour on his chest and helmet. 

Yet again, you were helpless, watching the battered remnants of your family fight for the lives mere hours after they’d been ripped apart looking for you. 

You had no idea where Echo had gotten to, or if Omega was okay, pinned helpless in this vision like a butterfly. 

Wreckers grunts and growls echoed under the blast of weapons, the crashing of furniture as bodies and blasts flew into it. 

But the boys were broken, inside and out. 

They were injured. 

Their usual deadly precision was tipping closer to a frantic desperation, clawing at escape and defence rather than their unbreakable offensive manoeuvres. 

Everything blurred to sound and colour before Wrecker’s roar of agony shattered the cacophony, his body being pulled to the ground by the stinging clash of a dozen stuns, forcing him to his knees whilst restraints were slapped on him.

Hunter’s head whipped toward him, his growl of anguish swallowed as he too was taken down with a vicious punch to the head, leaving him reeling and collapsing to one knee. 

“Stop fighting, Sergeant. Or your brother joins the rest of them.” The Commando holding Wrecker jammed a blaster into the side of his head, safety flicked off and finger hovering over the trigger. 

But the thing is, Wrecker didn’t even try and fight. At full strength, he could have easily overpowered them… But he just stayed there. Back slumped over, head hanging as low as his brace would allow him. There was no fight left in his body, no spark. 

He’d given up. 

Hunter snarled at the Commando, fighting against the hands working to pull his arms behind his back, hair falling in his wild eyes, teeth bared. 

He was an injured animal on the back foot, desperately trying to protect his broken pack, to tear apart the enemy and hold onto whatever semblance of safety they had left. 

You were forced to watch as Hunter was restrained, a hand gripping the back of his head, forcing it down toward the ground. His eyes flickered as another set of footsteps appeared behind you, revulsion written clear on Hunter’s face. 

Yet that wasn’t what scared you. 

What terrified you the most was what you felt in his signature. 

Guilt and pain so potent it nearly choked you, fury that could rival the fires of your own, bitter desperation, but underneath all that? 

The faintest trace of hopelessness and fear. 

~

Before you could try and help to no avail, the edges of your vision started to blur and you felt the overarching suffocation of that previous darkness. 

The vision was coming to an end, muffling your ears so all you caught were the faint snippets of words. 

“A shame about your brothers.”

“-Could do nothing to help them.”

Omega’s scream of fear, so young, so helpless. 

“-Broken promises.” 

“-found your brother outside.” “-killed him, of course. I have no use for clones who aren’t whole and CT-one-four-oh-nine should have died a long time ago.” 

Oh stars, no, Echo. He was… No no no no. 

Hunter and Wrecker’s combined roars of anguish. 

The hissing spark of them being stunned. 

With a scream that echoed in your own mind, you tried to swim back through that oppressive shroud, needing to hear, needing to know - 

“-We caught him helping you. Warning you.”

“…such behaviour cannot be condoned, of course. He might have been useful but he was a traitor. First to you, then to the Empire.” 

“A waste of a good soldier and sniper, but necessary.” 

Crosshair was gone too. 

It was too much, too much to bear. 

The vision was nearly fading, your family falling apart one by one, and right before your head broke the surface, you heard blaster shots. 

Three of them, the impression of their fire like muted lightning in oblivion. 

Three shots, for three remaining members of your family. 

Then silence. 

There was no relief when reality came flooding back by way of the cage. 

The agony was too raw, too potent, too fucking suffocating. It wrapped beskar hands around your throat and restricted, it ripped your heart and lungs from your chest. 

It tore through you with a pain unlike anything you’d ever felt before. You’d lost your family. You’d lost your friends after the Order, and that almost broke you. But you didn’t see that. You were with the boys. Your boys. Family. 

And you just watched them die. 

You just watched them die and you weren’t there to save them. You could have. You could have stopped Tech falling. You could have stopped Hunter from losing control for the first time and Wrecker being used as bait. Crosshair wouldn’t be dead trying to protect them and Echo wouldn’t have been shot outside, alone. And Omega…

You were supposed to save each other, that's what you did, you looked after one another and fought anyone who tried to change that. 

The hands pulling you from the cage felt simultaneously like fire, burning your skin, your bones, making you want to rip them off yet you also couldn’t feel them. 

You couldn’t feel anything except this pain, this agony and fury and rage that you couldn’t save them, building up and up and up. 

The pressure in the room filled too, the air becoming charged, zapping and pinging against people's skin but they passed it off as an off-charge from the cage. 

Fools. 

Their clipped words to put you back in your cell, restrain you until you gained consciousness fell against your body and to the ground uselessly.

Falling. 

When do we ever follow orders? 

He was right. 

Something snapped. That energy, the link to the rest of the world came roaring back to life, almost knocking you back.

With a hoarse scream that was more tortured animal, more tortured beast of vengeance than human, you exploded. 

Force-fuelled lightning crackled out from your fingertips, from your feet, your eyes, everywhere. It burst from you like you were the centre of a galaxy-shattering storm, filling the room with its blinding white glow, shorting out the electronics. 

The sparking, forked tips found their purchase in the scientists surrounding you, burrowing under armour and helmets to bare skin, to vital organs and frying them from the inside out. 

You fell to your knees, fingers scrabbling on the ground as you vowed an unbreakable promise to the galaxy, to the Maker, that you would make every single person suffer, find every single one who’d ever hurt your family, your boys, and you’d rip them to shreds. 

Then you’d join your family. 

Tears streaked your face in an endless torrent, chest caving open and you were still sparking and exploding like a star, so you were helpless to notice the gas filling the room, the polished boots suddenly inches from your face. 

You didn’t even feel the disturbance in the force, the vile poison spreading through the room and making the life energy itself recoil. 

“Well, this is just fascinating, isn’t it?” 

That voice. That voice saying his words. 

That quiet, silken, sick voice that stole along the corridors of this facility, more monster than anything. 

Everything was growing hazy and dark, your senses screaming at you that there was something wrong with the air, something tainted and foul but it was lost to the pool of darkness, sinking to the bottom like rocks. 

His boot moved to tuck under your chin, forcing your head to lift from the ground and for your tear-filled eyes to meet his unnaturally blue ones, one half of his face in shadow. 

Hemlock smirked at you, face full of violent delight even as his workers smouldered and smoked around him, and you snarled at him, ““I had a feeling that would work. Now, let’s get to it, shall we?”

He removed his foot as quickly as he’d lifted your head, causing your chin to smash into the floor and your teeth to sink into your lip. 

You couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, couldn’t think. 

It was almost a relief to succumb to the gas in the air and drown in the dark again.  

Hunter jerked awake, that sense of other pulling him from slumber, telling him to get up, that there was danger. 

He lifted his head from the bunk, finding his hand curled around his blade already, yet the Marauder was silent. As always. 

They were in the middle of hyperspace, so the chances of danger were few and far between - but you never know. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up and he paused for a second, just to listen. 

Nothing. Just the sounds of his brother's breathing. And Wrecker’s snoring.

Yet he couldn’t shake it, the ripple down his back, the tightness to his skin. 

It was a cold breath along the back of his neck, a flutter in the air around him, something deeper than a gut feeling. 

His fingers tapped along the hilt of his blade before he sheathed it, the faint sing of metal providing a small pocket of calm but he was too agitated, too wound up. 

Waiting. 

Something was inherently wrong, but it was nothing here, nothing he could see or touch. But it was there. 

He rose from the bed, moving through the ship on silent footsteps, keen eyes roaming the dark recesses and shadows, checking everywhere even though he knew.

He knew deep down what this was, what had pulled him from his slumber. 

As he passed out of the bunk area, his gaze snagged on the fact there was an empty bed - another empty bed. 

Hunter moved through to the front of the ship, the glimmering lights of hyperspace casting a cobalt glow over everything, softening the instruments and chairs, the metal hull. He’d often wake up in the middle of the night and find you here, cross legged on the floor, just watching out the windows as the galaxy flew past. Sometimes you were looking for Purrgils, other times you were lost to memories that he didn’t want to break you out of, so he would just sit by you, his foot resting against your leg to let you know he was still here. 

Right now though, it wasn’t you seated in the empty cockpit, it was Echo. 

He was leaning forward, elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, apparently lost to memories too. His foot tapped absently on the floor, and it was that agitated movement that told Hunter that he wasn’t the only one who felt this disturbance.

“You felt it too.” Hunter sat down in the pilot’s chair, spinning it round to face Echo, his agitation clear as day and humming in the air. 

Echo lifted his eyes to Hunter, then his head, his pale golden eyes shadowed, swallowed up by memories that Hunter couldn’t fix. You were the only one who had that ability, you and Rex alone. “Back when I was an Arc Trooper, with Ghost… She’d have these moments.” He hesitated, as if he didn’t feel right sharing this information. But he wasn’t blind, he saw the connection you had with Hunter, knew that he was probably somewhat aware, “Moments where… where everything built up inside her. She used to say it felt like pressure, like something waiting to snap.” 

His eyes were glazed still, moving to stare unseeingly at some point in the corner. 

Hunter half mirrored Echo’s position, leaning over, forearms on his thighs and his hands dangling between as he willed his body to be still, despite that humming agitation, “Like she has now?” He refused to talk in the past tense when referring to you. 

Echo nodded faintly, his hand curling into a fist and then relaxing, “Being a Jedi Commander, she had to muffle it, learn to not let it control her and to let it go. She would try mediation, but we could see it in her eyes when it was threatening to swallow her.” He barely blinked, entire body rigid, “Rex would try and help her the way he helped General Skywalker sometimes, but it wasn’t enough. Something else was battling her, the rage from losing her family, the fact she never quite fit in…” Now he moved, ducking his head to stare at his scomp with a tense jaw. 

Hunter watched his friend, his brother, almost seeing the memories hovering around him, the battle going on in his mind but he stayed quiet, letting Echo take his time and talk. He’d learnt that from Rex. Sometimes being a leader meant knowing when to back off. 

His brother sighed softly, brows lowered heavy over his eyes, “I was with her the first time it happened. It was after a hard mission, we lost a lot of men and a couple of Jedi too. That, combined with…” He hesitated, still loyal to his Jedi Commander, even now, “Combined with something.. It triggered her and she just exploded.” He twisted his scomp side to side absently, “It was like being in the middle of an electrical storm. There was lightning everywhere, from her hands, her body… It blew across the field and turned half the rubble to ash almost instantly.”

Hunter sat up a little straighter, because they’d all seen the hints of that force lightning, seen you wield it in the most dire situations. 

To him, it was an asset. A weapon you could utilise, something part of you, something… beautiful, actually. 

Yet it had been so ingrained into you that force lightning was wrong, it was a mark of the Sith, that you almost always fell victim to guilt, frustration and endless darkness afterwards.  

Echo was still talking, “It didn’t hurt me though.. She never hurt me.” He touched a hand to his chest, palm splaying out over it, “But I felt it. I felt a glimmer of her pain in my own chest.” Now he looked at Hunter, his expression one Hunter had never seen before on his brother but he recognised, “And I felt it again tonight. And I know you felt something too.” 

He looked at Echo quietly for a second, denial coating his tongue like acid, then he swallowed, his own fists curling up on his thighs, “We don’t know that, we don’t know that there’s something wrong.” 

There couldn’t be. Because if they’d both felt it, if Hunter’s senses had felt it from wherever you were… You weren’t just in pain or in danger. 

You were in utter turmoil. 

Echo opened his mouth to argue, but he was cut off by the scuff of boots, and Tech’s voice, “Neither of you are wrong, Hunter.” He walked into the cockpit, doing a double take at Hunter in his spot. His fingers twitched on his datapad, gloves flexing but he kept walking anyway, pressing a few buttons in the instrument panel, “My scanners picked up a significant disturbance in the force at the same time you both felt something.” 

Hunter blinked a few times, looking up at the side of Tech’s head, “You’ve been monitoring the force? How is that even possible?” He paused, “Why didn’t you tell us?” This last question was more a demand, his voice hardening but he couldn’t help it. This was important, something they all should have known. 

Tech glanced at him over his shoulder, his own honey eyes unusually hard, as was the tone in his voice, “Rex.” He stated it so bluntly in response to the first question that it left no room for argument, “To answer your second question, you are all aware that I have been monitoring a number of data points to look for Ghost. I did not realise I would need to give you an extensive list.” That bite, the cold tone of his voice told Hunter everything, that they were all dancing on a knife’s edge at what this data meant. 

A shrill beeping cut him off mid-sentence, cutting through the air of the ship like a wounded animal. 

There were footsteps at the door, and then Wrecker’s voice as he reached up to cover his ears, “Aahh!! Make it stop!!” He glared at Tech’s datapad, the source of the sound. “What is that?!” 

Tech frowned for a split second then looked down at the pad, “That would be another alert that I set up to monitor comms chatter.” He tapped a few things, then that frowned returned, “Interesting.” 

The tone of Tech’s voice immediately set Hunter on edge even more, something tiptoeing down his spine, waiting. “Tech.” He tried to keep the irritation and impatience out of his voice, because it wasn’t his brother's fault but he knew something was about to happen, and he’d already made Tech snap at him once. 

“It appears we have been sent a comms message from the Ojoster sector. A planet called Weyland.” He adjusted his goggles, tapping the screen, “I have begun a decoding program on the message.” 

Echo was frowning, looking at Tech but unseeingly, like he was trying to work something out, muttering the name over again. 

Hunter cocked his head, leaning further across his chair again, arms crossed over his chest, “Echo? What is it?” He observed his brother carefully, “You know that name, don’t you? That planet?” 

He shook his head slightly, “I don’t know. It sounds familiar, maybe, but only in a passing comment. I’m sure…” He trailed off, then lifted his head to look at Hunter, something in his eyes.

There was that feeling again, a whisper in the back of his mind, that voice that taunted Hunter with the knowledge he couldn’t grasp yet. “Tech, any chance you can hurry that message up?” Each second was feeling like an eternity, an anxious energy humming through his body, making him want to pace, to run, shoot something, find you. 

Hunter quelled this uncharacteristic franticness, allowing himself a deep, slow breath. 

Rex wouldn’t lose his head over this. He would be calm, efficient. He would gather all of the information and then make his plan. 

Except, as his eyes drifted to Echo again, he remembered a time when Rex was anything but that steady presence of calm. He was almost wild compared to his usual demeanour, desperate even.

Because he knew something wasn’t right and his brother was hurt. 

Just before Hunter thought he might explode out of his skin, Tech straightened, “Here. It’s ready.” He pressed play on the datapad, and Hunter was sure no one missed the way his fingers trembled as they all leant in.

There was a burst of static, an echo, before a voice came over - a droids flat tone, “The storm is coming. I repeat, the storm is coming.”

Nobody moved.

Nobody breathed. 

The comms message plinked and then played from the beginning again those words echoing around the ship and their very souls.

That message was a distress code, a code given to you when you were separated. The Batch had a code for themselves, but this was yours. 

Except that wasn’t what the issue was. 

“Hunter…” Echo was even paler than usual, his golden honey eyes heavy, knowing.

You had never, ever used your distress code. Not even when you were facing down an entire army, not even when your ship was tumbling through space with no engines, no fuel, no brakes.

Not even when you’d been taken from them in an explosion that Hunter still heard in every hour of his waking and sleeping mind. 

So it could only mean one thing.

“It’s a trap.” Even Wrecker’s voice had dropped a level, a similar expression of sickness but growing anger, fury even, that you’d been taken in the first place.

Something rose in Hunter’s chest, a roaring beast of rage, terror, guilt, but above all, fierce protection. That heat seeped through his blood, clearing his head and he yanked his helmet back on with a roll of his shoulders, “Of course it’s a trap. Which means Ghost needs our help more than ever.” He rose from the pilot's chair, a sergeant commanding his army, “Tech, change course from Moraband to Weyland. I want the fastest route there, now. Someone contact Rex and see if he can meet us there.” He turned to face the lights of hyperspace, letting out a breath as he finally realised what those senses were screaming at him, and they finally had a course for you. 

We’re coming, Ghost.

[notnctu]

push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details -  hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞  

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical 

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances. 

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.” 

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression. 

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander. 

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room. 

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head. 

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

READ NEXT PART

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.” 

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf. 

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels. 

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons. 

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be. 

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

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

+ Childhood

[rogersevans]

Quarantine Wedding

Pairings: Chris Evans x Y/n Downey - Chris Evans x Y/n Evans

Warnings: just fluff, wedding (if they make you emotional), implied smut towards the end

Summary: Y/n never planned her dream wedding, but in their back garden, surrounded by their families, during a global pandemic seems pretty perfect to her. apart of the evans’ series.

Sunday mornings were Y/n’s and Chris’s favourite day of the week, the only time they got to stay in bed, tangled in the sheets and each other, going undisturbed from the outside world. Chris currently had Y/n lying between his legs, her back against his bare chest as he rested against the head of the bed.  

Y/n was absentmindedly playing with the engagement ring on her finger, something she had started to do since he put it on, twiddling it with her thumb.

Dodger was at their feet, on his back with his legs spread, snoring away.  

“We should get married.” Y/n mumbled like she was thinking something through in her mind, thumb still playing with the ring.

“We are...” Chris reminded her, placing a small kiss to her temple. “That’s what this is for.” Taking her small hand in his, holding it up to show off the ring as it glistened in the Sunday morning sun.  

“No,” she protested with a giggle, getting up onto her knees and wrapping the sheet around her naked body, turning to face her fiancé. “I mean sooner, like tomorrow.”  

“Tomorrow?”

“Or Thursday if you’re too busy.” Rolling her eyes playfully she scooted closer to him, now in his lap, the sheet now being held up by their bodies, closing the gap. Her hands finding his hair, raking her fingers through it and massaging his scalp. “I want to be Mrs Evans, I want to get married in our back garden, with our families... No one else.” Chris hummed in agreement, letting his hands fall to her hips.  

“You don’t want a big wedding?” Licking his lips, his eyes now open and focused on every detail of her, the small freckle that sat just above the curve of her right breast, the thin chain that sat around her neck with a small diamond C resting in the centre he’d bought her on their second anniversary, the butt dimpled in her chin, something she hated but another thing he adored.  

Truthfully, she didn’t, she never envisioned herself surrounded by 300 people as she said ‘I do’, she just wanted a small, intimate wedding, less than 30 people.  

The pair had been engaged for five months and the pandemic had haltered all of their plans to celebrate, they had various zoom celebrations with their families and friends and when they were allowed to travel back home their hallway was filled with presents and balloons.  

They had managed to keep the news out of the press, wanting to bask in the newness of their engagement privately, it had been blissful but Y/n was becoming impatient.  

Silently shaking her head, she dipped her head her lips just a whisper away from Chris’s, “I just want you, as my husband.” She whispered making Chris’s entire body shiver, and in one swift movement Y/n is on her back with Chris lying on his side next to her, propped up on his elbow and tracing shapes on her are stomach.

She doesn’t stop herself from reaching up and cupping his cheek, booping his nose with her thumb, making them both giggle and then running her fingers over his beard, one her favourite features of her fiancé the way it feels against her skin makes her feel alive.  

“Tomorrow.” Was all he replied with, letting his lips fall down to her nose.  

After another hour of being tangled up in one another, the room filled with her soft moans and Chris made love to her, turned on at the thought of her becoming his wife tomorrow. They started organising everything, never leaving the bed unless it was for Dodger, food or toilet breaks.  

They had delivered the news to their families and the cheers or screams (Carly and Shanna) we’re piercing, even though the speaker of their phones.  

Chris booked flights for his family to be able to attend, they were getting in at around 10pm that night. Y/n demanded that everyone be tested before they stepped foot in their home, so she arranged for someone to come out and test everyone. Y/n’s family were due to arrive tomorrow morning, the nerves bubbled in the pit of her stomach at the thought of her mom and dad being in the same room again, something she hadn’t experienced in years.  

“Baby, it’ll be fine.” Giving a chaste kiss to her knuckles, “we’re getting married tomorrow.” He mumbled against them, his voice raspy and tired after a long day of planning, all doubt or anxiety about her parents leaving her body just from his touch, his words settled her completely.  

“I can’t wait to be your wife.” Standing to her tiptoes she nudged her nose with his, their gaze still looked before her eyes fluttered shut, breathing him in and relishing in the moment before his lips found hers.  

“What are you going to do about a dress?” Scott asked in a hushed tone, not wanting Chris to hear their conversation, closing the door to their bedroom behind him.  

The house was extremely busy downstairs with everyone completing last minute preparations so Scott and Y/n had snuck away for a quiet moment to get ready, knowing Y/n didn’t function when stressed. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to have Chris at her side, one didn’t move without the other.

But Scott demanded, as the self appointed best man/man of honour, that they be apart for the night before and the day of, still up-keeping some form of tradition.

Unknowingly to Scott, Chris had snuck back into their bedroom last night when everyone was asleep, not wanting to be away from one another with the excitement of the next day bubbling. 

Like children on Christmas Eve.  

The busyness of the day had helped keep them both distracted, not giving them much time to sneak off for a moment of privacy. 

“I bought something a few months ago, thinking ahead.” Y/n rummaged through her and Chris’s shared walk-in closet, plucking a black garment bag which was hidden at the very back.  

Unzipping the bag, Y/n revealed the white, embroidered, floor length cami wedding dress. Scott couldn’t contain his gasp as he softly took the dress in his hands, admiring it silently.  

“Where did you find this?” His eyes not leaving the dress, his fingers running over the patterns.

“ASOS,” she started. “I saw it on there and had to have it, I’m going to wear it with these...” Trailing off as she bent down to pick up her pair of all white, high-topped converses, now beaming from ear to ear.

“You’re joking right?”

“Heels aren’t me,” shrugging her shoulders she took the dress from Scott and disappeared into the en-suite to get ready.  

“What about rings?” Scott asked on the other side of the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed go through the checklist he had created in his mind.

“I think Chris has that sorted.” Was all she replied too focused on not damaging the dress as she slipped it on carefully, not hearing when Scott said something about checking on the decorations and leaving. 

After ten minutes Y/n stepped out of the bathroom to show Scott, her hair now falling freely over her shoulders and the slightest bit of make-up, the dress hugged her figure perfectly as the flowed around her.  

“Wow.” Chris’s voice sounded, making her jump back behind the bathroom door, shutting it, hoping he didn’t see too much. “Baby, what’re you doing?” Walking over to the bathroom door, trying to push it open.

“I thought you were Scott. You’re not supposed to see me!” Y/n cried from behind the door.

“I don’t care, we’re getting married during a pandemic, in our back garden with less than twenty people... So, I think the traditions are out the window.” His hand still on the door knob, letting a breathy chuckle out. “C’mon gorgeous, I wanna see you.” He attempted to persuade her.

Slowly the door started to open to reveal Y/n stood there, holding either side of her dress as she twirled for Chris, giggling as she did.

Well fuck, the sight made Chris’s heart swell, his palms became sweaty as his eyes trailed over her, drinking in her appearance, his smile never leaving his lips.  

Y/n took the opportunity to take in her fiancé's appearance, he was currently in black dress pants, a white shirt tucked into his pants with the top few buttons undone, and a tie hanging around his neck, untied. Her breath hitched in her throat at the sight, butterflies erupting in her stomach.

“Was gonna ask you to do my tie...” He choked out, his eyes now meeting hers.  

Without word she took a step forward and began fastening the last few buttons before making work of his tie, his hands found her hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs as he watched her intently.  

“You look...” He started, but was cut off by Y/n.

“Handsome, you look insanely handsome. I’m lucky you’re about to become my husband.” Her eyes still fixated on the tie, her tongue dragging across her bottom lip as she concentrated. Once satisfied her fingers smoothed out his collar and tie. “Now go, before Scott sees you in here. Anyone would think he’s the one getting married.” Both chuckling softly.  

With her command Chris didn’t move away, just one step closer to her, closing the gap between them, his hands now cupping her cheeks, both looking into each other's eyes for a few seconds before he dipped his head down to kiss her.  

This kiss wasn’t like all the others he had sneaked in the past twenty four hours, it was different.

Y/n’s mind casting back to the night Chris told her he loved her for the first time, the kiss matching that. It was filled with adoration, passion and love, making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer against her chest.  

“Go,” Y/n mumbled against his lips after a few seconds, pushing his abdomen. “I’ll see you down there handsome.” Giving her one last kiss before walking away, leaving her now by herself as she jumped up and down in their bathroom, the tiniest squeal leaving her lips.  

The next half an hour rushed by so quickly, now the pair were stood at the bottom of their garden in front of their families, their garden littered with fairy lights hung above them, their families stood watching proudly. 

It was simple and perfect, no fuss. 

Scott was ordaining the ceremony something Chris and Y/n weren’t aware he could do until last night. Too scared to know the reason why he decided to become an ordained minister, “you never know when you might need it” was all he said. 

“Y/n,” Chris started, his hands shaking a little. “I can’t imagine my life without you, since you came barging into it 22 years ago. From the very first day of filming back in 2011, I knew you were it for me, even if I didn’t know it.” That caused everyone to laugh, “I love how you’re always there by my side, how you always tie my tie... Even if I know how to do it myself.” Y/n gasped shocked at his admission, laughing along with everyone. “At first it was a tactic to be near you, but the look of concentration you have every time, drives me crazy.” He laughed as she shook her head, beaming from ear to ear. “You make me the happiest man alive every day, even when you’re beating my ass at guitar hero. I love how passionate and impatient you are... Today being an example of that.” Everyone laughed again, he reached for her cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife... I love you.”

Y/n was speechless, wiping away the tears that continued to fall, it was like he’d winded her with his words, her body tingled with excitement and love as the feeling of becoming Mrs Evans drew closer.

“Chris,” she started. “You are one of the most amazing, crazy talented, men I’ve ever known, I’m in constant awe of what you’re capable of... Seriously, it's annoying... I will make it my life mission to find something you’re not good at.” Chris’s loud laughter now echoed over your families laughs, his hand falling to his chest. “Your laugh, is my favourite sound of yours and if I could play it on repeat I would, but I’ll just settle for making you laugh with my terribly bad dad jokes-”

“Oh no!” Chris groaned at her statement, making everyone laugh again.

“Our love consumes me, I knew from the moment Lizzie told me you liked me that I had to have you, no matter what. Everyone constantly tells me how intense our love is, but it wasn’t until someone described it perfectly to me that I understood,” Y/n took the opportunity to side eye Scott, recalling the night they had a very drunken conversation about her relationship with Chris, making Scott laugh. “We’re so in sync with one another, you move, I move, we could be in a room filled with people, on opposite ends and we would still find each other without looking. Being with you,” she had to stop to compose herself, not wanting to cry during her vows. “Is like living a dream come true, especially during the simple times, no plans, no noise, just us doing nothing.”

Chris didn’t hide his tears as they freely fell, the sniffles from everyone, including Robert could be heard now.

After a few more words from Scott, once he calmed down, the cheers erupted as their lips connected, their first kiss as husband and wife. Chris pulling her flush against him, deepening the kiss. “I got you, Mrs Evans.” He whispered against her lips, making her giggle.  

The rest of the night was spent with their families, basking in the events of the day as they ended the night with the fire pit lit, gathered around it. Y/n was still in her dress and converse clad feet, her hair now tied up as she sat on the floor in between her husband's legs. 

She was currently admiring her wedding band, it was rose gold, slim and had diamonds wrapped around it, fitting perfectly against her engagement ring. reaching for the hand that rested on her shoulder, now playing with his wedding band, his band was thick, black and had a thin, rose gold strip around the centre. 

Chris had purchased them the day he bought the engagement ring and had hidden them in his sock drawer in his bedside, his hiding spots were getting better. 

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Robert softly whispered, puling his daughter into his arms holding her tightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re married!” 

“I know... I have to live with a boy!” She quipped back and Robert’s body started to vibrate with laughter, her cheek resting on his should as they continued to hug, not wanting to let go.

“My baby...” Now cupping her cheeks, giving his daughter one last look of pride before letting go. “You’ve always been my favourite child.” He whispered, Y/n knew he was joking but she laughed in agreement anyway. Out of her other three siblings they both shared a close relationship, Y/n was his saving grace when he was younger, having her at a young age bonded them. 

“Chris, I can’t believe you’re my son now... How weird.” Chris smiles broadly at the term son, instead of son-in-law, he knew Robert classed him as part of the family and not because he had to. "Welcome to the family, legally.. Let’s face it you’ve always been apart of this family.” Sharing a quick embrace before slipping past the newlyweds to speak to Lisa.

“Do you want to dance?” Chris bent down to whisper in his wife's ear, his hands finding her hips and back pressed against his chest, only to have her hum in response. 

Guiding her to an open spot in the garden, taking his hand in hers and spinning her so she was now facing him. His large hands resting on her hips whilst her hands snaked around his waist, the music that played from the speakers in the house guiding them. “You’re my wife,” stating softly, his lips finding her forehead.

“That’s right Evans,” the nickname now sounding futile with both being Evans’. “You’re stuck with me, no getting out this.” Her index finger was pointing between them before wrapping back around his neck. 

“Never.” 

It was nearing 2am when Chris and Y/n climbed the stairs to their bedroom, once the click of their door shutting was heard she reached behind trying to unzip her dress but struggled due to her tired state, contemplating just sleeping her dress.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her husband as he guided the zip down slowly, leaving slow, wet kisses on shoulder, using his callous fingers to brush the straps of her dress off her shoulders, the dress pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her panties.  

“My wife, you’re stunning.” He said lowly, the only light in the room was the light of the moon streaming through the windows. Y/n turned to face him, starting to unbutton his shirt which was now untucked, tie long gone and the top two buttons already undone, his collar bones and tattoos poking out through his shirt.  

Pushing the shirt off of him, she traced his tattoos with her fingers, a hiss of pleasure escaping from his throat, making him tighten the grip on her hips she didn’t know he had.  

The C necklace glistening in the moonlight.

That’s how they stood for a few minutes, their eyes never breaking from one another, her arms wrapped around his neck, his hands on her hips.  

Y/n guided her new husband to their bed, the back of his legs hitting the edge and he sat down closely followed by her straddling him. “Mr Evans,” her voice laced with arousal. “I do believe, you’re wearing one too many items of clothing.” She tsked, her finger trailing down his abdomen, his muscles twitching when she did, effortlessly flicking the button of his pants open.  

“That can be fixed... Mrs Evans.” He purred in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.  

[jjkpls]

the wishlist (m) - 6 (final)

“Was it worth it?”

> genre : smut, angst, fluff

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)

> words : 15k (ugh sorry)

> content/warnings : back at it again w/ the bff2l; one sided love, LOTS of pining; sextoys talk and use; explicit language; explicit description of sex; phonesex; masturbation (f); dirtytalk; alcohol drinking; dubcon exhibitionism; ambiguous infidelity

previous - masterlist

There's a lot of forgetting to get done. It wasn't the plan to get drunk. Maybe you should have known better than to confide the slightest about your heart and its aching to your two girlfriends. Because they don't have much of a solution to present you with. You meant to ask of them to divert your mind, make you laugh, feed you so much you'd fall into a food coma and wouldn't be able to think about anything else but sleep. Eventually, share their own dramas of the moment (they always have some) to get you so invested in their shits you wouldn't be thinking about your own.

You made the mistake of sharing, with probably too much preponderance in your tone, that Jungkook was back with his girlfriend.

Without any context clues -they didn't even know that he was single for approximately four days-, they knew. You're not that complicated to read when it comes to him. Only he seems to not get it.

You still remember the first time they found you out. They had a sense that something was up with this kid, that there couldn't just be a platonic, decade-old friendship based on nothing spicier than the tteokbokki you'd cook for him every now and then.

They only started believing, with utter incredulity, that it was true when they saw you, and him, and his girlfriend. All at the same time, sitting around the same table, there was no doubt left. No reason to believe that there's something unsaid existing. They saw your eyes though. The shine they gain whenever you'd be looking at him, laughing hard with all his teeth out, and the glassy look they took on whenever they'd catch a gesture, a touch that was meant only for Jiyeun.

You've never really gone into details. You've never ranted over the feelings, over him, everything that made him the one person for you. They saw you cry over him though, one drunken night, and it was enough to make them understand how deep you were in.

And perhaps it's your fault, that you wouldn't sort of train them to be the better friends they wish to be to you. They don't know what to say, what to do to console you. You don't even know what you need. Really, all you know, it's that you didn't feel able enough to take care of your tormented heart and mind alone tonight.

You are to blame if they dragged you to this bar, with the music too loud and the people too numerous, bumping their hips to yours attempting to coarse you into dancing. You hate every second of it. Every element that was supposed to distract you, help you forget, feel better, served as annoying distractions. You could picture yourself, dipped in a scorching hot bath, with a bowl of ice cream, weeping your eyes out like in the most cliche, most dramatic breaking down of your life. And it felt right, in your mind anyway, a thousand times better than this.

"Here!" Like the good girl that you are, you accept the shots. Min sets one in each of your hand and stares over the rim of her own glass, expecting. You roll your eyes. Swallow them down in one go and she yells, arms in the air, jumping like the night has just been made.

At least, she's entertained. Dancing her life away, kind of wilding out with too much energy, having to apologize every few seconds for knocking someone with an elbow or slapping another with her ponytail.

"Look, who's here!"

Your heart skips a beat then. Until you follow Mary's finger who's pointing rudely at Park Jimin. Park Jimin as in Jeon Jungkook's Park Jimin, one of his closest friends. He's dressed in all black, tight leather pants clawing to his legs, silk shirt half unbuttoned, perched on heeled Chelsea boots, dark black hair gelled back.

For a second, you worry, stupidly, if your friend is not going to appear, emerging from the thick crowd, carrying a drink, catching your eyes in the room. That's another thing you wouldn't need right now: seeing him. When you're in this weird state of sadness, guiltiness, of hopelessness and confusion. You'd probably be a mean bitch again. He doesn't deserve that.

For some time, you're just watching Jimin, being Jimin, dancing languorously, flashing smiles and winks so naturally; making everyone uncomfortable just because he's so attractive and so talented at catching people's attention and making them want him. It's just Jimin, hoeing out, as always. No Jungkook ever appears next to him. And while you sort of spy on him, there are the two dumb bitches next to you, drooling over him. Commenting about his ass, the way he moves his hips and how tight he seems to be in his pants.

"You should have fallen for him, dude!" It's the pinch to your arm that drags you back to the conversation, lets you know that you're the one Min is addressing. "What?" Your brain is already a bit slow. You haven't eaten much before leaving, drunk not much but too fast and forming intelligible sentences, translating your thoughts in their entirety is not a task easily doable at the moment. You meant to say something about how ridiculous they sound. About how it doesn't make any sense. About Jungkook and the things you feel for him, and the way you fell and how even when you suffer, like in this instance, you wouldn't change your heart because it's him, and only him, has been and might as well always be.

Why would you fall for Park Jimin?

"Jimin, you'd just ask him to fuck you and he'll do it."

"You can see he's a very generous slut."

It makes you wince. They're being fucking weird. Obnoxious, in their way of ogling him and quite disgusting talking about him. There's a smirk on the corner of Jimin's mouth and you wonder if maybe he's noticed them and is enjoying it. They don't mean to be offensive, you suppose, but they're still rude as hell.

"Useless Jungkook could never!"

Either you knock your friend out with your newly filled up glass or you drink it and attempt to swallow along your rage and that strange feeling that the open shirt Jimin is wearing has raised in you.

"Don't you wanna try him?" The question is absurd. You don't try people in general. But you'd never, ever, even think about trying someone as close as he is to Jungkook.

What the actual fuck?

"Fine! Don't give me those eyes!" Your brain and face connection is not that great at the moment that you'd know precisely what Mary is referring to. Soon after frowning and pouting through a sip of her drink, she's leaving, straight for the less crowded part of the bar, where people are dancing, where Jimin is showing off.

She needs less than thirty seconds to have him wrapped around her. Min is howling at your side like it's such an exploit. You don't want to bad mouth on your friend but it is, indeed, Jimin. Manwhore Jimin. And just like that, just because she walked in his vicinity, whispered something quickly to him, maybe just a simple greeting and a reminder of who she is, your friend, in case he couldn't make her out, and he's holding her tight, dancing, more like grinding against her, to her greatest pleasure, face buried in her hair, he seems to be uttering things directly in her ear. You catch her fingers reaching for the wide opening of his shirt, brushing against that tattoo you know to be there under his breast but have never gotten to really decipher, and he's leaving kisses on her shoulders. The next thing you see is his wide, wolf-like grin, now aiming straight at you.

You startle, almost let your glass shatter to the ground from the surprise. That seems to make him laugh. He waves a hand quickly your way and for some reasons, it sends a sudden flaming flush to your cheeks. That guy is such a cunt-tease, he's awful. No wonder people talk so crudely about him.

"I need to get plastered." You mumble, probably not loud enough for Min, whose arm you're dragging along on your way to the bar, to hear.

You may have thought, for a split second, of a fantasy. You may have reshaped the scene taking place in front of you to make it more suitable to you, to make it as self-indulgent as you could. With you replacing Mary, with Jungkook replacing Jimin. She made it seem so easy and for the briefest of moments, it felt like it was realisable. As if the only step missing, the only thing making it not real yet, is the first step, the one Mary took by just walking up to him and asking him to dance, maybe for you to be his for a while.

Then Jimin looked over, with his dark eyes and pretty luscious lips, his very sexy aura and everything that makes him him, and it all felt down to the ground. That's ridiculous.

That would never work.

Maybe hot men with the most endearing hearts that you really desire are not to be seduced by you. It just wouldn't happen. Jungkook would never, as she said. What a shame.

You should have fallen for someone easier like Jimin. He's not one person's man, that's for sure, but at least, he would have been great at pretending to be yours for a moment.

Now you really need to get drunk.

There's pure guilt boiling in the pit of your stomach. Because you've never denied your feelings for Jungkook. He deserves them. He deserves to be loved by everyone. Deeply and passionately. And no matter how true, how pure, how intense those feelings are, he never owes to reciprocate, does he? And here you are, greedy stupid little you, sad and angry because of course, he couldn't love you back like that. Not when there's fucking Jiyeun in the way. Jiyeun or any fucking one else, right?

He's not making it easy for you. Everything he does is making your life harder. As if it wasn't enough on its own already.

Everything he does.

Like buying you these fucking toys you need a science degree to operate.

Sort of.

Maybe you don't need a science degree. Maybe a sober head would be enough to make a toy you've never used before function.

You don't have that at the moment. You're in your favourite pyjamas - an extra-large, greyed by time tee-shirt you stole from Jungkook back in high school - and panties - because it sounded like way too much effort to find shorts or joggings and slip them on. You've managed, somehow, you don't even remember doing it, to make your bed all cosy and welcoming, a perfect backrest made of your fluffiest pillows.

The little toy, this orange thing, sort of shaped like a fat bunny, a big, rounded body with two straight little ears, pointed upwards. It's supposed to be fully charged. It's been disinfected. It's just waiting for you to use.

Except it's the last one Jungkook had bought for you, you didn't get to use it yet, to even turn it on once, nor read its instructions. And here you are, past two am, trying, with your sloppy brain, your blurry eyes, and your impatient cunt, to understand how it works. There's an app linked to it. This much you got from the big, unmissable QR code occupying the first page of the three-page long manual that your eyes won't read.

You picked up your phone, went through the violent burning of your eyes when the screen lit up too close to your face, scanned the code, installed the app and here you are, stuck.

The app won't let you turn the fucking toy on. There's a message that keeps coming up every time you try to link the app to the toy. But the message is written in grey, on white, and you can't see shit and you don't have the patience to decrypt it. Maybe if you close it, and try running it again, and try scanning the code again, and just click on the button that appears under the message, whatever it says, maybe it'll work.

Except it doesn't. After a certain number of times (keeping up with the counting is another thing you can't do well right now) the app keeps on being a bitch. Keeps being difficult and reluctant, and unwilling to let you fucking get off and go to sleep.

You're on the verge of tears.

Why would it be so fucking difficult to make a fucking sex toy work?

Why?

You're so annoyed and impatient and angry now and it's all Jungkook's fault anyway.

You can't try to go to sleep, no matter how tipsy you are, because your brain is filled up with this asshole and won't let you alone. You can't fuck yourself to sleep because the toy you've picked - and for totally irrational reasons you feel like you can not switch to another one - won't let you and it's his. His fucking present. Fucking poisoned gift.

He makes everything worse. Everything difficult. And the more your eyes fill up with frustration tears, the more you're reminded that he's also the answer. He's the worst and the best part of your existence.

Of course, you'd call him.

"I could be sleeping." His voice is light and clear. He wasn't any close to be asleep. He's probably gaming or something. You're so thankful for his voice, the lovely thing, the comforting thing, that you don't even get mad at his aforehand teasing.

"Jungkook-" It's not a call of his name. It's a whine, almost a lament at this point. Tiny high tone, overly dragged vowels. Something like Juunggooo, and he must recognize the tone straight away because he starts laughing in your ear. You bite on your bottom lip hard, almost draw blood, squeeze your fist over your heart, as if it could help it handle it better.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

"Went out with the girls?" You hum as an answer. "Had a little too much fun, sweatheart?"

"No fun at all."

He's laughing again. His sly, mocking chuckle. He's too himself for you to get mad at him. He's too cute when he sounds boyish and happy like that.

"No fun?" He's having fun, it's hearable. It might be because you sound like a dumb, whiny kid. "Why is that?"

"Just cause." He hums like he understands. You hear mockery in it. He sounds a bit distant. As if he's not totally paying attention, as if you're really a four-year-old kid rambling some non-sense after school and their parent just barely pretends to be interested. "Junggooo, I'm trying to have my fun now but your thing is being mean to me."

"What thing?" He's definitely doing something else. He speaks a bit slow, you can picture his gaze far from you. And of course, it'd be, he couldn't even see you even if he tried. It's still vexing. He really doesn't want you to have him all for yourself. Why not fucking Jimin?

"The orange bunny you got me." You explain patiently, pouting a bit. You try your best not to have your vexation be too loud but it's hard. "I tried the app but it won't let me."

"The orange-" You hear it when the gears click. He even gasps a bit. You kind of brought it up out of nowhere when you accommodated him with your constant complains and fights pretty much each time he wanted to talk about this subject. And here you are, opening up a conversation on one of them. You kind of get where the shock is coming from. "Oh, the Gala thing." He even knows its name. "What- How isn't it working?"

"The app says I'm too drunk to use it." You quetch, glaring at the toy laying flat on its back next to you. The asshole.

"The app says what?"

"Jeon Jungkook! Are you even listening to me?" Hysteria was to be expected. Because here you are sad and drunk and horny and highly frustrated and it seems he keeps making you repeat everything. And of course, he would because he can't give you his undivided attention now, can he? Because he's not a generous slut like Park Jimin, he's a useless prick. And if he keeps being one, and he keeps upsetting you, you promise to yourself, as an act of self-love and self-respect, you'll tell him he should be better, he should be more like Park Jimin.

"I am, baby, but I'm confused."

Except he doesn't need any bettering, does he?

It's like he's heard your thoughts. Like somehow, even with the distance separating your two apartments, he's been able to read them directly on the lines of your heart. He knows what you need, the soft and gentle and tender Jungkook who takes care of you, the one that doesn't show often, especially now that you don't really go out and get pissed off drunk together, now that you don't expose the sad episodes you might have to him in fear of being precisely confronted to this perfect torture. Maybe he heard your mind calling Park Jimin's name too many times and he tries to ensure his position. You almost tell him not to bother. That it was just a taunt, it's always him, just him, will ever be.

"What does the message say?"

"That I'm too drunk and stupid to use it."

"I don't think that's what's written, baby."

"But-" You're seriously going to cry in a second. You don't even know from what. The app really succeeded in hurting your feelings by not working for you and he keeps calling you baby, it makes your whole inside boil and scorch like a puddle of lava. "It's invisible letters, how am I supposed to read exactly?"

"If you can't read maybe you should just go to bed for now, hm? Figure it out tomorrow."

"No, now." Full brat mode is on. You know if only he was sitting next to you, you would have raised a hand to pinch him right on the back of his upper arm -where it really stings. It works usually. You don't hurt him, the guy is basically made of muscles, he's the kind of work out junkie that's enjoying the pain. He wouldn't fucking mind your tiny attempt of an attack, no matter the amount of anger and frustration powering it.

By telephone though, it's even harder to make him do something. Possibly undoable. The only weapon that you have is your annoying screeching voice. "You fix it! You bought this shitty thing so you fix it."

"I forgot how rude you get when you're drunk." He's still making fun of you. Not taking you that seriously.

"Jungkook, I'm seriously going to cry." The worst part is that you mean it. If regular menaces won't do, surely affection blackmailing should be more effective.

"Don't cry, it's fine. I'll check. Don't hang up."

As if. You did not plan on hanging up. Ever. You've decided.

It's too nice, cuddled up in your bed, with his voice, smooth and soft, saying words that you really like, like baby, in your ear. You've decided this moment won't ever stop.

"Junggoo-"

"One second, baby." You don't have one fucking second. You don't have any fucking second to spare him. When he's made you horny and lonely and longing for so fucking long. Why would you spare him any more? He takes too long. The time he takes, you prophet, will precisely be the time your vagina will need to dry out entirely.

Even his soft voice calling you baby won't serve to make you wet again.

That's a lie.

It makes you groan. Asshole, asshole, asshole.

"Oh." Your ears perk up. He's back with you, his voice closer than before, it seems, when he starts explaining, a hint of guilt shadowing his tone. "Sorry, it's my fault."

"Of course, it is." You mumble, face deep in your pillows. "Jungkook! Everything's your fault, always." You're probably being unfair. Or maybe not. Is he responsible for making you fall for him or are you to blame for doing so? Turns out, it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't even pay attention to the blatant, telling, honest truth you've just spurred.

"When I received the package I tried it once."

"Tried?" Did he really? The cute little bunny-shaped thing you'd dismissed earlier, cursed at and threw daggers at suddenly looks different to you. You want to pick it up and maybe place a kiss on the top.

"Wait- Not like that! I didn't actually try it! I don't have a fucking clit, what-"

"You just said that!"

"I meant, I tried turning it on and linking it with the app, just to see how it worked. Like the options on the app."

"Oh." Makes more sense.

"Anyway, it's not working for you because I used my email with it and you can only have one." So many words. God. "I have to invite you. Or delete my account and then you make one with your QR code."

You turn into the whiniest, most irritating little thing then. Just a jumble of dramatic cries, something almost sorrowful because your issue appears impossible to deal with. It's not that complicated. He explained it. Too many words, too much thinking, too much paying attention, too much to do and too much delay. How does he expect you to do it when you can't even read the invisible font of the app?

"Fucking invite me then."

"Watch your mouth." It makes you roll your eyes. It's not the first time he says that. He says with this menacing growl at the end. Like he means it. Like he's really threatening you. But no matter how far you go, no matter how many times you curse at him, he never acts on it. You want to tell him, you almost do, to stop promising you things he won't ever give you. There's a ping coming from your phone. With a bit of a struggle, you manage to put the speakers on, so that he doesn't leave too far whilst you take a look at the message. A link to click on. Not that hard, it's bright blue, unmissable. It leads you back to the bitchy app.

Now it's all nice to you. It lets you enter, presents even a picture of your own toy, congratulates you for being linked to it and to Jungkook's account. Of course, it would. Now that it knows you're friends, now that he's in the thing, this bitch of an app is being nice.

There are a lot of symbols, every-fucking-where. Some wavier than others. One is shaped like a music note. Some are just little constellations of dots. You click somewhere, just to try and see if anything happens and it does.

Suddenly, the bunny is brought to life and starts purring furiously on the bed. It startles you, looks a bit intimidating. It sounds angry and complicated with all of these fucking options. At least the other toys he's gotten for you had at most two buttons, one to turn it on and off, and the other one to regulate the three levels of intensity.

You might actually need a science degree to use that. Simply to adjust it so it's not attacking you when you turn it on.

You press another button. The setting changes instantly. It starts vibrating in a jerkier way instead of one straight line of frequency.

Tentatively, you grab it, sort of unimpressed and dubious as to the way this would feel good on you. You've already grown grudges against it. It needs to impress you, prove to you that it's worthy of the effort and of you even bringing it to your precious temple.

It sucks at convincing you. You've brought it to your panties and tee covered crotch, pressed it there, waiting, and it doesn't do much. It vibrates. Weirdly. It stops and goes again, in a pattern you don't understand and it doesn't do much for you. Doesn't turn you on, doesn't make you wet. Doesn't stimulate in any positive way.

You reach for your phone with one hand, trying to keep the other one holding it against you, and it's here that the whole thing fucks up for the last time you can tolerate.

How are you supposed to fucking do that?

Don't they understand that? The people that make those fucking things? That they're going to be used mostly by single people, with a single pair of hands? How are you supposed to manage holding it up where you need it, whilst simultaneously, hold your phone up (everyone fucking knows holding a phone up with one hand, and tap on the fucking screen, especially laid in bed, is impossible and the worst fucking idea one could have - except if getting a black eye is the project) and control the intricate dashboard.

"For fuck's sake!"

"What is it?" Jungkook is sighing heavily in your room. And for a second, you're startled almost off of your own bed. You managed to forget he was even still here, on the other line, apparently waiting patiently for- for what exactly? Maybe for you to wish him goodnight and hang up. You literally forgot he was here. You were about to get yourself off -if only this shitty thing wasn't so shitty- whilst he was still here on the phone.

Why doesn't it mortify you?

"How am I supposed to use my phone and the thing at the same time? Why- How? Jungkook!"

"Stop saying my name like that!" You don't ask because you know exactly how you're saying it. There's no proper balance in your tone tonight. Either you're whining his name like a desperate brat, either you're pestering it like a disappointed, aggravated mom.

"I'm going to cry." You say again, lying this time. You've already started. It's not a lot yet. Just a puddle of tears, in each of your eyes that are just about to spill, and the prickling sensation at the tip of your nose, the latter has already starting sniffling uncontrollably.

"Why?" He sighs again. This time, it's gentler. He might have just found the key to the secret safe holding the very last drops of indulgence he hides deep inside his kind heart. "Baby, the app is really for couples."

"But I'm not a couple, I just wanna cum."

"Y/N-" He chokes on your name. "There are buttons on the toy for you to use. You don't have to use your phone, okay?"

"You're lying."

"Why would I be lying? Look! There are fucking buttons."

There are, indeed. But they suck, you think. You do try them. Pressing on them while you stretch your arms out to keep the bunny's ears close to your covered clit. It's so much work. You don't get it. The buttons are hard to press on, when you manage to activate the little monster, it just jabs against your centre, falls over from your hand. You hate the jerking motion, try to change it because clearly, it won't do. It doesn't work. The buttons suck, the toy sucks and Jungkook is cursing at you instead of helping.

"What do you want me to do? Baby, I'm- Just go to bed."

You hate that he's telling you to go to bed, again. He's probably right. You're being a pain, an embarrassing one at that. You can't just go yet, though. First of all, the very reason you called in the first place, for him to make it so you can fuck yourself to sleep, has not been effectively resolved. And on top of that, the very resolution you took earlier, the one of never hanging up, of never drawing a period to this moment, won't let you.

"This one sucks ass."

"It doesn't." He sounds calm, a bit quiet, tone low and collected. You wonder if he'd dropped whatever he was doing, whatever distraction and laid in bed like you, to listen and talk to you only. That would be nice. You're annoying as hell, poor him, he deserves better, but you're thankful for him.

"It's stabbing, how can it be nice?"

"You just- I don't even know why I'm arguing with you. You're drunk."

"Am not, you are."

He scoffs, doesn't bother insisting. He exhales deeply. You sigh as deep. Your lids are heavy. Your brain is fuming too. Your head feels fuzzy. You could sleep right now. You might make a terrible night. You might have nightmares. You might wake up in a few hours, hot and very bothered, frustrated and on edge. There's a little ping messing with an edge of your eyebrow. You know it'll grow into a headache soon.

"Junggoo..." You whimper as if he could help you. As if he's the key to this headache, to lock it away, along with the rest of your tormented feelings.

"You're tired, baby." He comments. You would bite if you were in front of him. He really wants to send you to bed. "Just go to sleep."

You should. Given that you need a good five minutes to find the energy to open your mouth and mumble, "Don't wanna."

"Then what is it that you want?"

"Told you."

"Hm?" You're not saying it again. You could fall asleep right now. With his slow breathing in your ear. It sounds so lovely. Feels like you've never been this nicely enveloped. It's like those ASMR or lo-fi music compilation videos on YouTube. The ones with the short scene, often animated, playing on the screen. It's instant peace, instant chill, purely quiet, greatly pleasant. You love these sceneries. You even have a few printed on your wall. They are great to look at and try to project in, because it seems you could never create this feeling, this atmosphere in real life.

But you've reached it. Now. The perfect peaceful land. With the perfect soundtrack coming through your phone. You're comfy and warm, it's almost as if he was actually there with you, wrapped behind you, stroking your hair. God, you wish he was there stroking your hair and kissing the top of your head. But he's not here. And why? He should be here. If he can be on the phone with you, when he used to come over to make sure the blanket is nicely tucked under your chin, why can't he be here? Life's so unfair.

"What was that?" He's probably referring to the big loud thump, throwing his toy to the ground made. It's not its fault. Even if it hurt your feelings, it's not responsible for him not being yours. Or maybe it is. He wouldn't give you toys if he were yours. He wouldn't need them. That's probably why Jiyeun doesn't like them. Because she wants him to be all that's pleasuring her. The lucky lucky bitch.

"Your stupid toy."

"Don't- do you know how much it cost?"

"Never told you to buy it."

"Sure, but don't break it! I promise it's good. You can't-"

"It stabbed me!" You accuse, petty.

"You- are insufferable." He sounds about done. Except he's not because he seems to want to prove you wrong, still. The toy on the ground starts shaking back to life. Curiously, you roll on your belly, throw a glance to the ground. It's stirring, moving around slowly, getting closer to you as if it's trying to hop back up on the bed. "Pick it up."

You do as you're told. It's vrooming lightly, quieter than you expected. You can hardly feel it in your palm. The movement more noticeable from the timid sound than by the intensity.

"Oh. It's nice now." Maybe it does have a conscience. It's being all sweet and mellow because the remote is in Jeon Jungkook, international heartthrob's hands.

"See?"

It's really gentle. It turns cute. With its bright orangy-red shade, its two cute ears and its belly, a bit domed to allow a better grip.

Your hand has a mind of its own. If he were to ask about it, to demand an explanation, even when you'll come later, and wonder mad and revolted and half dying of embarrassment, what the fuck came over you, you'd blame it all on your hand. The appendix and its own personal free will are bringing the thing back to your crotch. "You can switch the intensity, it was just at the highest before." You're hardly aware of Jungkook still talking in your ear. The phone on speaker is still laying on the pillow next to you and he's selling it to you, while demonstrating, as if he's signed a sponsorship with the brand. It could be funny but you don't really care, more curious about The Gala and finally getting to know it.

Soon enough you realize that two layers of clothing, no matter how thin, are too much. You lift the hem of his tee, exposing your panties and the lines of your mound, showing through the tissue. It makes sense then, the shape of the thing. It has those two straight ears, or poles, with enough space in between, to tuck your clit comfortably. If you'd like. And you're not sure it won the privilege just yet.

For now, it'll have it but still over your panties. They're so flimsy that really the fitting isn't too far from its initial conceptualized use. "And the modes- see," It's jerky again. It goes for a couple of beats very quick short pulses and then there's a long, monotone one until the pulses come back again. You don't like that one. It's gentler than the one from earlier, that tried to attack your clit with an angry strong beating though. "You can just switch. If you don't like the fast pulses, you don't have to use it. You just try it out." You guess he's right. You just have to try it, tame it. Learn its functions and let it learn you. Probably. Sounds like a lot of work though. The other ones were really straight forward. Good, excellent for some - special shout out to the clit hoover, which is not actually vacuuming but blowing air, which made you cum so fast and so hard in the very first two minutes of trying it. You'd turn it on and it'd do the job. Next to your ear, rambling like a radio you'd forget to turn off in another room, Jungkook is explaining how there are dozens of preset patterns and an infinite amount of slots for personal creations.

It's okay. Sounds like it would do the job. You can already tell how you'll use it if you ever decide to give it a second chance after tonight. Pressed tight against your button, turned a bit higher, in a very basic, very classic constant monotone vibration.

He's switched it to another stabbing like pulsing, very fast and aggressive, you can tell they meant to imitate the pattern of a good pounding but it does little to nothing to your excitation. Really all it does is make your eyebrows frown and your premise of a headache is back. "Hate that one."

"Change it." Kindly, he complies. Another one. You can't really identify it. Maybe a slower thrusting. It's better than the last one simply because it doesn't nearly hurt. Doesn't do much good either. But maybe it's not doing much over your panties though therefore curiously, with eyebrows furrowed now in concentration, you lift the waistband up with a finger and slip the bunny under it. Tentatively, you try to set it nicely where it should be resting, your clit out in the open, hugged tightly by the two ears replacing your lips. It's kinda nice. Barely though.

"So is-"

"Wait, turn it up a bit. I can't even tell what that's doing." You mumble maybe a tiny bit petty, a bit bad faith remaining from the bad impression the toy gave you. It's not that you want to hate because you've decided you would. It's more intricate than that. You're too tipsy to even try and explain that though.

"That one is-" After a while, doesn't do much. The higher setting, you suspect he hasn't gotten up a lot, hardly helps. It does vibrate but it doesn't seem to reach enough, your clit hardly feels anything. Your electrical toothbrush from your horny teenage years used to do a better job at being a vibrator -and this even over your jeans.

You're this close to throwing it to the ground again and give up on it, once and for all. Jungkook would need to understand. It's not because he spent a lot on it, it's not because that strange lady he keeps mentioning insisted on its good, that you are forced to appreciate it. You don't see the fucking point of this one. It does look cute and expensive but is pretty much useless. No one needs a pretty, expensive but awful friend.

"It sucks."

For a few seconds, he doesn't say anything. You consider that he might have even hung up. But then, in the quiet, his voice too serious for him not to have taken what you said personally breaks out. "You're mean."

"I think- I think it's a good opportunity to decide- uh..." The toy is still active in your panties, under your palm. The realization slowed your process of thought for a second but the bigger conclusion that it brings is that really, it sucks. So bad you even forgot it was still on -and it's not you being too drunk to have a fully, 360 awareness of your body, honestly. "To decide collectively that you need, you have to stop buying me those."

"They're not all bad! You loved the other ones!" He accuses, apparently not up for the collective decision. You are probably made of confusion at this point. How many more does he feel the need to get you? Is it that great, that gigantic, that tragic of a frustration that he developed by his girlfriend not liking these that he feels the need to bury you alive with thousands of those? The secretive shelf at the bottom of your dresser already holds little to no place left for another pretty box. And as to the satin bag you use to store the toys themselves, in your bedside table's drawer, you can't even close it anymore.

"When have I ever said that? We talked about one, I said it's fine."

"That's not what you said." Honestly, right now, you have no idea what you said. You know that you didn't find great easiness in talking about them. You've never mentioned any and he never did either, apart from the very first one. You did say something positive about it, you think you can recall. "I don't listen to you anyway because I know how bad of a liar you are."

"Well great. Blatantly admitting you don't care about my feelings-"

He bursts out in laughter. You might be a little bit of a drama queen right now. The hand that is not holding the bunny against your mound -for reasons you don't care to address to yourself, probably for you being so lazy that it feels more like an effort to change your hand's doing, take out and put away the toy, rather than just leave it there quiet and not really bothering- did reach for your chest, in a very theatrical embodiment of an offence.

"That's not what I said, you brat."

"That's what I heard though."

"I said I don't trust your mouth when the rest of you is saying something else entirely." You roll your eyes. Hopefully loud enough for him to hear it on his side of the call. "It's my new passion." He starts, giggling like an idiot. "I won't stop for as long as orgasms will look this good on you."

Oh. My God.

Is he allowed to say that? Is he allowed to say shit like that with the most calm you've ever heard anyone speak with? Like it's normal. Like it's a simple fact. Like the word orgasm in itself isn't so foreign in his mouth. Somehow he makes it sound incredible, so delicious you feel the first proper impulse to your pussy.

"You've never seen it." You counter, uneasy, feeling somehow unbalanced and unprepared against what is probably a simple conversation to him but a real personal attack with too great of weapons to you.

"I've seen the aftermath. I told you already." You wish he'd be more explicit. His words are confusing. They're not telling enough. They can be so much, they might not mean anything. He speaks softly, tranquilly, almost whispers in your ear. It's simply late. It's more appropriate, it feels, to speak quietly like that. It's one of those midnight talks.

He wouldn't know whenever he is seducing you. He's doing it constantly without meaning to. It's just him being himself and you being too weak for him. How could you make out his intentions now?

"You really-" The toy twitches in your hand. He clicked on the switch button of his app again. You're not sure why. From the way he speaks, he might not even have realised. He might be playing with the thing, mindlessly, the way he does when he picks at the skin of his fingers when he talks. He must be because he's still in his own head, talking while the thing, the barely interesting thing, turns into something else. Entirely. It's a wave-like pattern. Growing from pure stillness to a slow, growing vibration that ends in an intense climax. You gasp. He doesn't seem to hear. "You really don't want me to get you any more?"

The second wave hits. "Oh- God."

"I mean- I thought, we were- that it was okay." The sensation is incredible. For some reasons, a technology you don't fucking understand, you wouldn't fucking understand now, every single build hits insanely hard. Each time as intense if not better. You're so close to moaning. If you haven't really taken a second to realize what you were doing, actually using the toy with him on the phone, without him even knowing, somehow you know you need to remain quiet. You can't moan out loud. You sigh loud though. You have to. "I swear with you it's so hard to tell-" It's so hard to keep quiet and the realization brings a grin to your face. You're not that vocal usually. Sometimes you are, with some of the surprisingly good sessions Jungkook's presents have been offering you. But it was conscious. It was you enjoying, wanting to build a bigger pleasure, make it more sensational, it turned you on a bit, you had to admit, to hear yourself. The pleasure the toy is bringing you right now is indescribable. The more you leave it pressed to your clit, the more you feel the heat grow. You know it's already too much. You hiss and sigh, and have to bite back moans each time the high top of the wave comes. It's too much and feels like not enough.

The greedy you would want the final hit of the wave to last longer than those very few seconds. Long enough to bring you there, make you fall over the top of the hill. But it's a teasing setting. Probably programmed specifically for overstimulation. You squirm and bite back whines each time it comes, flinch and have to fight to not tear the ears away because you know the sensation is a lot to handle, too much stimulation, yet you're already addicted, unable to act on the very fair, logical, and sensible decision you should make. You shouldn't even be pleasuring yourself with him on the fucking phone.

"Are you okay?"

Jungkook asks, after having stopped talking altogether for a minute too long but it's not like you were really in any state of mind to acknowledge it.

You don't think he's noticed yet. From the noise, hopefully little, that you were making, at most, he should be able to hear some sort of short breathing, for all you know, he might think nausea is visiting from all the alcohol you've consumed and you're heaving, on the verge of throwing up.

"You're not feeling well, Y/N?" It's his concerned tone. The serious one. The one he uses whenever there's no skip button to the conversation. Usually, it leads to him coming over to take care of you like he's your mother. Which sounds great in theory but doesn't always apply wonderfully in practice.

Sometimes you don't want him to see you looking green and gross from fever sweat; sometimes you just want to be alone and recover on your own without having him watching so dramatically concerned over your shoulder. And now, you wouldn't want him to burst in with your hand still in your panties, a sweaty, bothered, horny mess for him to be left shocked and possibly disgusted by. Maybe disgusted is a big word. Or maybe it's not. How inappropriate is it to masturbate with an unknowing friend on the other end of your phone? Is it even legal?

"I'm fi-fine, Jungkook." You lie through gritted teeth. You can't possibly be fine. You've put yourself in the worst situation and you still don't do shit to get out of it. Something is very much wrong with you.

The logical thing to do, the sensible one, would be to either end the conversation, hang up and then eventually finish yourself; or else, take the thing out of your panties, possibly throw it the further away from you and keep the conversation on if that's what you wish to do.

It would certainly not be to ask for him to turn up the setting because you now really much want to come.

"You don't sound fine."

"But I am."

"How much did you drink?"

"Not that much, Guk." He makes you frown, almost rips a curse out of you. Because all this serious talk is diverting you from your pleasure. It's not like you're going to have fucking alcohol poisoning. You didn't drink that much, honestly. The drinks were not even that heavy, except for the two disgusting shots your friend forced in your hands. "Seriously, I'm good." The building up pleasure has brought a new awareness to your brain, and honestly, you feel way more alert than before. You're far from drunk, no matter how much your behaviour seems to contradict that. You're good. You'd be perfect if he'd shut up or if he'd start half seducing you as he does. Maybe he could talk about your nipples again and what you should do with them.

He did say that. Now that you come to think of it. On top of buying you those toys, he did guide you as to what to do with some of them, how you could use them. They were not his direct advice, they were the lady's but still, he felt the importance to share them with you.

"If you are then just answer the question, how much?"

"Okay in a sec but can you turn up the toy's intensity, please?"

"Turn what?" You almost bark then. The whistling f of a very practical, very useful word you shouldn't yell at him rings to your own ear but you're strong enough to hold back. "Ah the thing, yeah, sure." What a sweetheart. A bit slow, but lovely. Your whole body contracts violently when the newly powered wave hits, the beginning of a moan escaping because it's so good, it's almost painful. "I had like two shots of-" Ah. "Something. I don't know what it was, just-" Fuck. "Gross as- uh." Holy shit, that's good.

You can't believe you've judged this intricate, revolutionary technology so bad before. "And then, like, a martini or two, barely and- and-" You're so fucking close. Each time feels like the final ascension except you get back to square one whenever the vibration drops back to stillness too quick to your liking. It's pure torture. And having to make a fucking list of your consumption that's so far back in your brain right now, especially when you know that it's pointless, is not helping.

"Wait-"

"Jungkook-" You don't know if you're begging him to stop thinking now, not get to the conclusion his logical train of thoughts is trying to lead him to, or if you're begging him to help you cum, maybe be nice to the bunny which only seems to be kind to him and make him make you cum.

"Why did you ask me to turn the thing up?" He already knows the answer. You can hear in his tone that he already knows. And frankly, he's a dumb ass for not realizing sooner. "No, you're joking. You wouldn't- not when I'm talking to you."

"When if not then?" Maybe frustration has brought you some bravery, or maybe pleasure has burned the very last remaining functioning cells of your brain.

"Uh?"

It's probably gone too far now. It still feels like he owns the key to the phenomenal orgasm you can smell coming. If you were to hang up now, you wouldn't even know how to make this shitty thing work. And it's not enough. Still.

Shit.

You're definitely wailing in a second now. The next sound you mean to conceal is a sob. Why can't you reach it? And how can you be so hyper-focused on it, it doesn't seem to matter what's going on with Jungkook.

You've gone crazy. Or perhaps you're drunker than you thought yourself to be. The last wave hits differently. It's straight-up overstimulation when you haven't even come once yet. Doesn't feel very nice but at least, it's the push you need to finally lift it up a bit, make a pause and eventually show some consideration to Jungkook.

"So you've been arguing with me, saying it sucks when really you were-"

"It did suck before you changed the setting." You assert again. Because nagging is the thing you're most talented at doing, apparently.

Silence ensues. In the defeating quiet you realize even the discreet humming of the toy has stopped. He's turned it off.

Something akin to shame is finally showing the tip of its nose. It's been fucking late to the party, you note with a growing, you know to become, devastating mortification. Exhaustion and tipsiness are keeping your conscience quite numb but you don't give a chance to sober-you who'll wake up tomorrow with this awful incident engraved in her memory.

Why can't he say something? Essentially, it's his fault. It's always his fault. He makes you feel things you shouldn't and make you do things you wouldn't. You can't think properly. You're being fucking chaotic and he's responsible for that. Even you know it's reaching. You're not that petty and mean.

In a whisper, dipped in sincerity and shame, you apologize. "Sorry, Jungkook."

"For what?" Because he can't let you off the hook that easily, can he?

"Are you seriously going to make me say it? You know why!" Here comes angry-you again. Getting mad and rude for no rational reasons, and here, awfully unfairly. He really deserves better.

"No, I-" You may have broken him. Jungkook has never been the most eloquent person. Between lisping and stuttering and stopping mid-sentence to let you complete for him his missing words, he's never been the best at talking. But even for him, even knowing his history, you find him pretty affected. Possibly all messed up. There's not even the hint of sensible thought. A void filled with "uh" and "tsk" and lips smacking and hums, it's like he's ceased to function. Maybe if you just hang up and from then on, just pretend it's never happened, both of you can get away with the situation. It's an option.

"Jungkook, seriously, I'm sorry. Let's say it was a fucking, uh, drunk lapse of judgment on my part and- yeah, never mention it again."

"Yeah, okay." He whispers after a while. He sounds really shaken up. "But it's fine, I'm not mad, I'm just-"

"Bamboozled?" You suggest, heart constricted, not ready to joke yet but so desperate to obtain at least a smile from him to prove yourself that it's okay and you didn't fuck it up too bad.

"Bamboozled, indeed." He chuckles, a bit breathless on the phone. You can't help the big sigh that escapes you when relief rushes through you. He doesn't sound too upset with you. "I'm really not mad, I just wouldn't have- I wouldn't have expected this, from you."

Of course not. It makes you cringe. You bury your face in your pillow and release the most intense quiet cry you could manage.

"Sorry." You say again, quiet. Your eyes are prickly. This night is such a mess. You can't make out how you're feeling. It's like your reactions and your reflections all come to their own rhythm, inappropriately, unmatching each other's and certainly unmatching the current situation.

"Stop. And don't-" If you're decomposing yourself progressively, at least, he seems to be getting back to his senses. Voice clearer and more present. "You sound so upset now. Are you embarrassed?" It's a smile you hear in his words. You don't have the right to be mad at him but honestly, you would have hit him in the ribs if he were in front of you.

"Is it even necessary to ask?" You grumble face half suffocating still in the pillow. Oh, here's another solution. Suffocating yourself to death.

"I think so. I mean I bought them and I turned it on for you, I should have- I couldn't have known but I should have. It's fine honestly."

"It's not."

Stop pretending, you fucking liar. Even if he acts quite calm, nonchalant, you can hear a very slight difference to his usual tone. He's not sincerely, honestly, a hundred per cent okay and chill with the situation. He's faking casualness but he's not entirely it.

"It is."

"It's not. I'm just gonna die, Jeon." That makes him laugh even though you're only half-joking. You don't know if it's possible to die from embarrassment. One thing is for sure, if it's possible, you won't survive the night.

"No, you're not, baby. It's fine." Jeon Jungkook is the sweetest, needless to say. You should hang up. Apologize again, hang up and pray for him to forgive you and eventually forget all about it. But you remain on the phone because you're so desperate for his approbation and his love and any sign of reassurance from him. And he's giving it to you. When he could probably have a little rest of his own. If it's awkward for you, you can't even imagine for him. But he accepts to stay and reassures you. What a cutie. "Did you cum?"

You choke on your own saliva. More than taken aback, actually shocked. How dares he?

Or can you say that? Can you act offended when you've just done what you did? In any case, how are you even supposed to answer that question?

"You- It's just that I turned it off and we- I was just wondering if you did..." That sounds about right. That sounds like Jungkook being curious and wording this curiosity without necessarily anticipating how you'd take it. It must be part of his plan, his 'let's be the closest, let's share everything' plan he mentioned a few months back. You're not ready, won't ever be if that's what it'll look like.

You are the problem. Apparently, you can get yourself off when the poor boy is on the phone with you unbeknownst, but you still have a hard time talking about sex with him. "...because it sounds awful if you did not."

And it is. It is horrible. You'd imagine that after getting caught, feeling so embarrassed and guilty, your cunt wouldn't still be quivering and begging for you to pay attention to it again. But you've taken it so far. Made it discover new incredible sensations of course it'd still be obsessed with it and with the climax the toy teased it with.

You groan in your pillow again. Not sure how he'll interpret it. Not sure how you want him to interpret it. Should you just talk to him? He could hang up too. If really he didn't want to partake in this mess he could hang up, he could talk about anything else.

"Listen, you don't ever have to be embarrassed with me, you know that." That's reaching. You want to tell him that he can't ever say that to someone, he can't ever become anyone's mat to wipe their dirty shoes on. He should be the one feeling awkward, being mad at you, except he reassures you again. "And when you just proceed on getting yourself off while I was talking- worrying about your fucking health..." He snorts before he can finish. "How dare you act coy with me!" He's just laughing too hard now, contributing wholeheartedly to the burning flush on your cheeks. Well, you deserved it.

"Is that it? You're going to bring this up each time you'd want something from me?" You sound so upset, even to your own ears. It results in his laughter dying down pretty quickly.

"I think so, yeah." You don't add anything. You don't want to be rude. Still hope for any kind of magic word you don't even know that he could mutter to you and that'll help cure your heart and soul. Therefore you can't tell him goodbye and hang up. You wait for him to do it. Except he doesn't. It's late as fuck too. He might be working later today. Why isn't he hanging up? "If I'm talking about it, you should know that it's fine. I don't mind." An asshole and a cutie. "You okay, babe?"

The simple hum you tried to aim for turns into half of a whimper half of a moan. You're not okay. Any part of your being won't let you lie and pretend.

"Do you want me to turn it on?" For fuck's sake. "I'll hang up and leave it on so you just- it'll turn itself off when there's no battery left anyway."

"Jungkook." Your stern voice is a threat. It doesn't have to be further explained, he gets it.

"What?" He sounds aggravated. You can imagine him raising his hands to the skies, upset and losing patience as he's only trying to make it better for you and oh women are so complicated. Something like that. "Oh my God. Just get yourself off and feel better after."

"You don't tell me what to do." Childish but there's not much left of your brain. "Well, you don't even fucking know what to do with yourself right now. Am I right or am I right?" He whisper-yells back at you. Very mean.

"Asshole." It's a tiny whisper under your breath but you're certain he hears it even if he completely ignores it.

"Listen, since you can't even- how old are you, seriously?"

"Fuck you." Barely louder. You definitely know he's heard this time, but still, he decides to dismiss it. He's always been more productive than you.

"I'll turn it on and hang up. You take care of yourself like a big girl, alright?" He probably believes that you can't get yourself to ask for what you want aka a wild night with the fucking toy you can't get to work yourself. But it's not actually the case. Honestly. Now all you can think about -besides the whole very humiliating moment when he caught you in the act- is the way it kept torturing you, bringing you very high but never enough. It started to hurt at the end, brought impatient frustrated tears to your eyes. You don't even think you could finish with it.

Maybe it's inappropriate to seriously consider it. Maybe you won't ever learn your lesson.

Before you even get to word your refusal, the thing is on. It's on the same devilish setting as earlier. The merciless wave. Fuck.

"Don't! It's not- it won't even make me cum, stop it!"

"What? Why not?"

"I don't know the setting is weird." You start explaining through the thicker pout to have ever existed. You're really considering having him solve your climax. You've gone crazy.

"What's wrong with it? Tell me, I'll put on one you like."

Fuck.

You are doomed.

What are you supposed to do with a guy like this?

"I don't think there is." You can hear the frustration from his end before he even says a word. It's written in the stars that in a second he's going to bring it all up, the part when you got off and pester that you can't still be complaining about the fucking toy. "No, I mean it's- the one I liked, the last one you clicked on, it's like-" Fuck, you're really doing this. "A wave. You know? It grows crescendo but it always stops right before- right when it's really good. And I just couldn't- because the good part doesn't last long enough and, yeah."

"Wait, let me look." He sounds a bit further away from you then. He's logged back into the app, you can tell. And with his tiny "hm" and his "so...", he sounds the way he does when your computer is being difficult and he's trying to fix it because you won't pay a professional to do it when you have this nerd populating your entourage. "Ah. You want the high moment to last longer?" "Yes." You can picture him nod to himself, frowning his eyebrows and sucking his lips in the way he does when he's super focused.

"Like that?" You wouldn't know because the toy is lost somewhere, you can hear it but not see it. You ask him to wait for a second and it stops altogether. Doesn't make it easier to find it but it wasn't lost that far. Once you have it in your hand, you gulp, ashamed, not sure if you could ever play with this thing again. But the other guy on the phone doesn't seem to have his motivation falters. You're not the one telling him to try again, on his own, he executes.

It's hard to tell in your hand, the vibrating ears hugged tightly in your palm, if it's going to be satisfactory enough. If it's precisely the thing that was missing from earlier. It follows the pattern you asked him though. Still to a growing intense high that lasts for approximately a good ten seconds rather than the lame 2 seconds from earlier.

"I think so..."

"Okay then. You... mute yourself and then- Uh, no. I should mute myself so- or we both mute ourselves?" He's not really with you anymore. Lost in his own head amongst those seemingly very difficult questions. You don't even get where he's trying to get at. Wasn't he supposed to hang up?

"Why would you stay?"

"It's just- it's me doing it. There's no setting for what you want, it's me doing it. I have to draw the frequency on my phone."

"There's an option for that?"

"Yes. There's even one to have it follow audio!" He points out with way too much enthusiasm. He might have really found a new passion.

"Sounds like high tech."

"Yep."

"Sounds expensive as hell."

He laughs in the mic, snorts even before he brushes it off. Quite frankly, no matter what you'd have to say to him, he'd always do as he wishes. If spending ridiculous amounts of money on ridiculous things for ridiculous you is what he wants to do, he won't let anyone, not even you, tell him not to.

You don't know what to say, he's not saying anything either. He suggested something quite insane: he'd stay. While his finger would be drawing shapes on his screen to actively give you your pleasure, he'd stay on the phone with you. Maybe it's a bit hypocritical or ironical, how it sounds crazy to you now while ten minutes ago, you had no problem doing it without him knowing. That's probably the main issue here, him knowing. That changes everything.

"But if you stay-"

"We can't both mute ourselves because I won't hear if you ask me to change something or- so you, you just stay like that and I'll mute myself."

"Jungkook, you muting yourself won't change my awareness of you being here."

"But maybe you'll forget about it?"

"Jungkook."

"What?" He sounds contrite then. Like an upset child who's being argued with. He's trying so hard but you make it so difficult, it seems.

There's just one thing holding you back. Until now you couldn't quite pinpoint it. And it's hard to resolve an issue you can't name.

But it just hit you. His way of insisting while making it seem like he does it for you only, to help you out and doesn't necessarily find his part in the cake.

"Do you want to?"

"Uh?"

"You sound like- I don't know what you sound like. You're confusing. If you're just trying to give me a hand and solely that then hang up and I'll just- whatever."

"Oh."

"Of course, it makes no sense for you to do this for me and stay if you don't want to, I mean." He takes forever to answer. For a second, you even peek at your screen wondering if he didn't simply quit the conversation.

It's really all you need to know. If somehow, to some extent, he wants you or at least, wants to partake in this genuinely. You don't want it if it's just a bro hand. You can hardly live with what you've done if he's utterly uninterested. But if he does want it, even a little bit, you might be wrong but you feel like everything would turn out to be fine.

"It's not that hard of a question." You try again because it almost feels like he's forgotten you from how long he's remained silent. He had put you on the spot, in this very conversation too, so many times, you have the right to do the same to him, at least once. "Do you want to stay?"

He cracks up. It's the very hard kind of laughter. With the boyish chuckles, mixed with the squeaky intakes of air. The one that always brings a smile to your face and usually drags you along the fit.

You have no idea what it means right now. It's probably the least appropriate time for it to show up. Therefore instead of making you smile it only reinforces the headache slowly growing at your temple.

"Aah." He starts by exhaling longly. You can hear the grin fixed on his face. "Yes." Your heart trips in your rib cage. You should have guessed it but you couldn't have imagined this answer. And him laughing to tears like a fucking deranged infant doesn't help. "Shit, sorry." He apologized when the remnant of what sounds definitely like a giggle resonates in through the phone.

"What's so funny, Guk?" Your words don't match your tone. You're high under pressure, unsure of what's actually going on. Jungkook is not cruel, you've known him long enough to know that he wouldn't deliberately hurt you, wouldn't mess with you so bad, for so long, even for a great laugh. Still, you can't be convinced that he's sincere. Seriously, how could you? The dude won't stop fucking laughing.

"Nothing, I'm just- I didn't realize until you asked me the question that I wanted to." Oh. "I'm an idiot."

"Welp." Could have told you sooner but I thought you knew.

"Mean. And, uh," It sounds like he's tossing and turning in bed again. You bet he's just gotten the exact same position as before. He's like those cats that turn around in circles again and again until they settle for the initial spot. When he starts talking again, his voice is hardly a whisper, you assume he's holding the mic very close to his mouth. "I should ask you too. Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want it, moron." Patience has run thin. Now that you're reassured you don't have to be ashamed and embarrassed anymore, you can simply be annoyed as you get with him.

Honestly, you're still feeling abashed but he doesn't need to know that.

"Quit being mean. It's not my fault I'm slow." He says, faking deep pity and it does make you snort. "Okay, well..."

"Well, indeed."

"You're making this awkward!" You roll your eyes. Feels like you can sort this out. If you do take out the very blatant, scorching awkwardness, it's a very regular interaction between you. Sounds like any other day except in a second he's going to press a finger to his phone in hopes to make you cum.

"Your whole existence is awkward."

"Shut up. Let's just fucking start." He groans as if you're the one belating the initial step –you are but so is he.

"I don't have the fucking remote." He tells you to shut up again, and this time, when you hear him hum to himself when he's opening the app, there's a recognizable brushing noise falling directly in your ear.

"You put your earbuds on."

He doesn't answer but you're sure he's registered the question.

Fine.

If he doesn't want to give you an answer you'll just make up your own. Don't you put earbuds on to hear better? Just saying.

"Put the thing on."

"Oh my God, Jungkook-" You take back your own admission. He's the one, solely, all alone, making it painfully awkward. Sounding like a newly pubescent teen trying to initiate sex. "Could you be any smoother?"

"But-" He sighs. "Do you want me to?" How do you ask your best friend you've may have been in love with for officially a couple of months to please act like an ideal lover even if it's just very short-termed? He sounds willing. But asking is the most difficult part. "I can be- or do whatever you want, I just don't know-"

"I like it when you call me baby." Your whole face is scrunched up in a perfect picture of your intense embarrassment. Formalities need to get fucking out of the way and it's precisely what you've just tried to do. But holy shit, it's painfully embarrassing.

"Oh. Do you now?"

Here comes the smirk. Can't see it. Can hear it clearly. It's pretty much louder than his words even.

You want to tell him to forget it all. That it's not going to work if each fucking second he makes you feel like he's going to be using whatever you say or whatever you do against you later on. You decide to demonstrate exemplary patience, reminding yourself that he's not cruel. Admittedly.

Perhaps you're the idiot and it's all your fault. Because you've just admitted (without him even asking) that you like (and into these circumstances, that it turns you on) to have him call you baby. Thing that he does already every time he starts coddling you.

"Okay then." He startles you, clearing his throat. You wonder if he's as anxious as you are, or at least, a tiny bit nervous. For the most part, he doesn't seem like it. Then again, he's quite good at pretending.

It shows soon after when he starts again, this time with the gentle, soft voice he hardly ever uses with you. There's a tiny newcomer, a certain edge that gives it some firmness and that enchants you. That's exactly what you wanted him to be. "Put it on, babe."

You nod wordlessly, omitting that he can't see you and do as told. Slipping the toy under the waistband of your panties, guiding the ears aside your clit. There's a very faint buzzing coming from them. You barely feel it and you suppose it's just there to have you accommodate better.

"Are you still dressed?"

"It's just my panties and a big shirt." Your shirt you'd add if you had a bit more courage. You hope he's going to let you keep it.

"Take your panties off." The part of you who's his best friend wants to nag, tell him that maybe he should have asked that before demanding you place the toy on your cunt but you feel generous and merciful, and also desperate and tired of your orgasm being stalled for so long. "Are they soaked from earlier?" Okay, this shit's going to be hard. There's no coming back. Strangely, it's just now that it's really hitting you. Even if it's going well, there is no way, you'll ever forget his velvety smooth whisper saying those words. There's no way you're helpless cunt ever forgets.

They are, by the way. You don't even get how you've been able to keep them on and ignore the uncomfortable stickiness for this long. Just sliding them along your thighs feels disagreeable.

"Y/N." Sounds like you're getting scolded. And even if you particularly like the way he just said your name, with that same peculiar edge from earlier, a little sharper then, how are you supposed to answer that? "What did you say earlier? That it can't only be for you, is that right?"

"Yes." You admit sheepishly because now you're definitely getting scolded. It brings flush on your only newly temperate cheeks and you don't even hate it.

"Then I'll give you everything, I told you I would but I'll need you to give me some back. Can you do that?" He sounds so strict, how can you like it so much? You can literally feel the electricity along your spine, sliding down to go faint in the hot mess between your thighs and that's ridiculous. You hate being talked to that way, usually, probably because it's never him doing it. Jeon Jungkook might be your ultimate kink. And somehow, he figured it all out. That whatever he'd do would fit you perfectly well. Also, he might be turning like that because undeniably, you're a brat. "Can you?" He insists again because whilst you've been busy trying not to hyperventilate, he's been waiting for one answer.

"Yes. Yes, I can. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, it's fine." You should want to bite him. Why insist so much if it's to end up leaving you off the hook so easily? You know though, for a fact, awfully bothersome to your ego, that if he were in front of you presently, you'd give him puppy eyes and batting lashes, sad pouty lips and probably tend your neck to invite him to gently pat your hair. "Tell me, are your panties soaked?" "I think I ruined them..."

"You did, didn't you?" He's laughing a bit, kind of full of himself for some reasons. Maybe he knows that it's mainly his fault they ended up this way. Maybe he knows they are not the only pair fallen victim to simply the thought of him. "Was it worth it?"

"You're taking care of me so I'd say yes." A chortle. A purr that you interpret into something you like a lot. It sounds like he's taken your response for exactly what you wished him to. A tease. He makes your belly churns and twists, turns your nerves from your heart to your noggins haywire. The least he can allow you to do, the least you'd like to do, is for him to be affected by you.

It starts with a gentle buzzing. It's nothing much. Nothing at all, you'd say if you'd let your greediness and impatience talk. There's something else doing it for you, for now. Jungkook's breath, sort of heavy, slow, rocking you with warmth. Knowing he's here and here to please you; you're laid in bed, naked from the waist down, wet and about to make it all better thanks to him; the picture itself makes it all for you.

"How is it?" Jungkook asks after some time. It's been silent. You haven't said much, in fact, you haven't said anything yet. Not that ready to demand more, and not feeling enough for moans or whimpers or whatever to be stolen from you.

"Boring." You admit. "S'not what you were supposed to give me." Through a thick pout, you deplore.

It doesn't work. He doesn't care. He doesn't fucking care when he's playing exactly the role you've implicitly asked him to play. "Have you said please, even once?" You hate that he's virtually pinning you down with exactly what turns you on.

"I- Probably." You haven't said much. You haven't been so explicit, so telling simply because you couldn't, but surely, you said please. Didn't you?

"Not probably. You did not. And on top of that, you're complaining." He's figured out exactly what you wanted, what you needed. Therefore, as naturally as it came for him, you fit it your own role easily.

"I'm not complaining. I was just- pointing it out. Sorry."

"You can apologize a lot but you can't even say please. Not once." Well, fuck. You never thought that he could be mean. Awfully mean. You wished, when you let your mind wander there one too many time, a bit too deep, that he'd be like that. Sweet and soft and tender the way he is, always, but also, bad, kind of harsh. "Ask kindly, once."

"Jungkook-"

"I'll give you everything you want. Just once."

"Please, Jungkook." You know he's satisfied with what you offer him because you don't have to wait another second for him to give you precisely what you were waiting for. It's timid, follows the crescendo built you were looking for except it's not intense. It's the first step however it's incredibly effective. It feels as good as the first time. "Plea-please." Manifestly, it is the secret word, the passcode to your pleasure because the intensity you're craving for finally reaches you. It does in an electrifying peak, that lasts long, just like you asked, it's so good, the feeling so perfectly indulgent to your needs, maybe even too much, you squirm, part the little ears from your clit, hissing. "Shit, Jungkook!"

"Too much, baby?" The hypocrite, with his concerned tone, doesn't even take a break from activating the vibration, from keeping on building the intensiveness. You can tell it's he too, him really doing it live, as in it's not absolutely regular, the built sometimes takes longer, sometimes the volume stronger, other times weaker. It's undeniable, every minute of it feels different from the next, you can't even omit for a second that it's him doing it. And he's doing it so well.

"Per- fect, just- sensitive." You moan out. Back arching, right leg twitching. The next brush is particularly nice, goes so far you believe you might come on the spot. Now you definitely can't hold back even if you wanted to. The sounds that come out of your mouth, foreign to your own ears, are not even yours. They come straight from your body, straight from an excess of pleasure you try to deal with, to handle, when you clearly can't. You're alone, and it's you ultimately controlling the power on your own body, you can pull out, even slightly, every time it comes hard and strong and you ought to twitch uncomfortably. You wonder how it'd be if he were here with you. If he forgot just for a while that you were his best friend, the girl who used to be older and taller and has turned, with the years, into this tiny little thing because he just kept on growing and growing, sprouting like a fucking redwood, and now feels like he needs to protect and care for you. If he were there, and he could forget that, you bet, his present voice, heated, scorching, is telling you this, that probably, he'd hold you down, crush your body with his, hand pressing your thighs down and apart, and force you to take the pleasure in its entirety. You imagine him merciless, slipping sweet words in your ear, while he'd have you literally scream from overstimulation.

And then his voice, the perfectly alluring thing, concludes to let you know it won't happen like that. His voice will make you come.

"You sound so good." Especially, if he keeps saying shit like that, with this tone, soft yet strong and highly, terribly affected. He's breathing hot and heavy in your ears. Is he touching himself?

"Please, Jungkook." You implore, vainly, hips slowly grinding against the toy, pressed by your palm on your sensitive centre.

"Especially begging, 'sound so, so good." He's not touching himself. He sounds bothered, but not enough, he doesn't stutter like you do, his voice doesn't jump and dip, stops momentarily like yours does. Shit, you wished he would play with his cock. Fuck, you want to play with his cock. So fucking bad.

"Y-you like it?" You ask, not because you're curious to know, he's said it already, but because you won't ever get tired of hearing him say it, in all those different ways.

"I do, baby. I love hearing you." You can't help the curse that leaves your lips a bit harsh. You're so close. So so close. Eyes filled up to the brim, tip of your nose wet. How many times have you thought, already, that you were seriously going to fall over? "You gonna cum?"

"I can't-" You sob, whine. There's a tear spilling from your right eye. "It's too much." So attentive to your every word, the intensity drops drastically. It still buzzes, discreet, way more tolerable. Ironically, if you can now bear it, you know it's not enough to lead you to your climax either. "Help me, make me cum, Guk."

"Use your fingers." He's been nice, essentially, you can only be good to him. Without even having to think about it, you dip your fingers in the mess that is your cunt. Two fingers slip in between your lips too easily, you could add a third if only there wasn't the bunny taking a bit too much room, and your fingers were longer, and your hips not so twitchy. If Jungkook was here, if only he was here, he'd fit his two fingers and it'd be enough. You bet it'd be enough. You bet his pretty, long, tattooed fingers would stretch you so well and make you come in a heartbeat. "Fuck yourself with them."

It's so gratifying. Having him humming in your ear encouragements and compliments. He's sweet, sweet, sweet. Excellent with his voice. Fuck, he must be unreal with his fingers, with his mouth, with his fat cock.

Diligently, you drag your fingers in and out, it's only mildly agreeable when you're sopping wet, almost gaping. Until he draws on his phone the same magnificent pattern from before.

You wish it'd last longer. It's precisely what you needed, the ideal combination. Along with his words.

You know if you come he'd have to stop. He'll stop calling you baby, stop saying how sexy you are, use all those nasty words he never does and talking like that, with this voice, with this heat in his tone. It's a bothering thought at the back of your mind you have to actively push away.

There's nothing you can do when harshly, yet with a please, he demands you to cum.

You can feel your cunt, wide open from both your spread legs and the excitation, getting wet, growing soaked. You can actually feel it as it happens before you explode. Clenching violently around your fingers, spilling all over them, you might squeak and scream and moan his name continuously, you barely hear yourself through your ringing ears.

"Fuck, Jungkook..." You sigh. Laying there, boneless, hand dripping up to your wrist. He's chuckling. "Fuck."

"Feeling better?" You hmm in response. Words sound like too much effort right now. Your brain is working slow. Extremely slowly. There's a multitude of thoughts forming though, germinating from a strange ground.

One, in particular, does, enlarging ridiculously much next to the others. You could enjoy this luck. You could just bathe in the lovely, perfect haze. Accept that the sky is perfectly blue without a cloud, with even a rainbow somewhere. Maybe a double rainbow even.

There's a very, very dark, very, very large cloud invading your perfect sky though. And because tears, of another kind, have already located your eyes, the new ones fit in, mixing up with them and taking over them with utter ease. What the fuck have you done?

"Jungkook, I'm so sorry-" You start with a tremble in the voice. There's a fat lump in your throat.

"Why? What's going on, baby?" He's sweet as honey, back to his usual self, worried, and you're horrible.

"Your- I didn't even think about her and-" There's a sob bubbling out of your mouth. "It's not me. I didn't mean to-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Jiyeun." The taste in your mouth when you say her name, is unbearable. You know full fucking well you shouldn't say her name. You shouldn't be allowed to. How dare you. Spoil it when you spent way too long virtually getting in this guy's, who's someone else's boyfriend, pants.

"Dumbass." It makes you choke on your own sobs. "It's over. With her, I mean. We broke up." Ah. You want to ask a billion questions. Starting with "again?". Soon followed up by a "why didn't you say anything, dickhead?". You spent the whole fucking night, getting shit faced and spiritually crying in the club over a couple that does not even exist anymore. Then you'd ask for how long they are planning to be over. "For good, this time." You're barely drying up your fat crocodile tears when he calls you an idiot again, says something about how he's not that kind of guy and you should know it.

Feels better. The thunderstorm is gone.

Alcohol and horniness and hardcore loving are such a terrible combo you need to avoid.

"Cuddles." Tiredly, half-dead, but still alive enough to be greedy, to feel sensible, skinned and want him to give you more. "Come cuddle." He's late to answer, delays it as if you don't desperately need his response.

It's terribly quiet and still. The dark of the night seems even more sombre. He can fix everything if only he'd give you the answer you desire.

"You sure?"

"Always." You say, maybe too honest. He doesn't seem to mind, agrees with a snort.

"Alright."

He appears in front of you in the blink of an eye. Literally. That blink does last longer than usual. The orgasm may have crushed you. You close your eyes and when you open them back up, he's here. Standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, dressed in all black and oversized, as usual. You look up, eyes squinted, bothered by the light coming from the hallway. He's staring. Gaze brushing, from your head to your toes, seemingly slowing down when they reach your naked thighs.

"What?" You mumble, embarrassed, one hand sliding down just to make sure the hem of the shirt is covering your crotch. You didn't even put your panties back on. You may or may not have wiped yourself clean enough with the wet wipes wisely sitting on your bedside table -you thought about it really hard but you can’t remember if you actually did it.

"You never mentioned it was my t-shirt you were wearing." You shrug. You'd have a better come back if you weren't so tired and if it wasn't simply true. "Would have been nice to know." He says, kneeling down next to your bed. The latter is low, mattress barely raised from the ground and even when he's crouching down, he's hovering above you, looking down on you. "Easier to picture." He adds quieter the closest he comes to you. It's enough words to know who he is at the moment. In what form, what version of your Jeon Jungkook, has come to visit. It's the gentle one. The one whose voice doesn't raise, doesn't feel as animated as his usual one when he spends his time being a clown to make everyone laughs. The one that made you fall, the first time. Not exactly the one you had on the phone with you earlier and even if you like him, if you adore him in fact, you feel sort of uneasy, worried. He might be gone forever, this one.

Unless it is him. His hands reach forward, large and warm, they lie on your thighs. The fingers brush up a bit, to the hem of his shirt, and they stop there. He looks up from them, straight in your eyes, smiles, digs the tips in the meat of your thighs before he lifts you up, aiming for the border of your bed.

God. You hope it'll happen again. But differently. More in-depth. He'd be less dressed, he would manhandle you, before he'd do some unnamable things to you. But another day. One when you're not almost dead. When you feel hornier and less soft and desperate for direct comfort to your swollen heart. It could be tomorrow when you wake up. If he's up for it. Please God, make it so he's up for it.

Jungkook hops on the bed behind you, huffs comfortably, holding your cover by a corner to bring it up and over the two of you. He fits behind you too naturally for it to be the first time. He doesn't seem to mind that you're so underdressed, compared to the other times, that you still have some remnant of your orgasm on you, that it's different. His arm sliding around you, holding a bit too tight, pressing you a tiny bit too hard, you're still hot from earlier. It's perfect though. You don't want him to move an inch and you hope, the hand that's wrapped on his forearm, makes him understand.

"M'not too clingy?" His own cheek pressed hard to your own, he asks, which is weird. How could he still wonder? He's never ever been too clingy. Even when you were kids and he followed you around before even asking if he could, he wasn't too clingy. The closest, the better. You deny with a uh-uh. He calls out for your name when you're fighting to keep your eyelids open. It's the most comfortable, the warmest you've ever felt. Like a cocoon of pure love and adoration. On top of it, there's his hard arms around you, his hard thigh pushing against yours, his crotch -with the feel of his member, slightly stiff- glued to your butt, and his chest, as hard as the rest, holding your back up like a strong wall. "I promise I didn't plan the whole toys thingy for that."

"For what?" Sleepily, you wonder, actually confused from exhaustion. To cuddle with you? Like you haven't in so, so long. Why would he try to apologize for it? "To use them with you."

"What a shame." You don't think he can understand. Diction is not something you care for at the moment. The hard laugh bubbling in his chest, rumbling, shaking your whole, lets you know he did, in fact, get it.

"You're so-" He starts but the thought dies way too soon for you to even try and complete it yourself. "I'll have a billion questions for you tomorrow."

"No." You whine. Because he's fucking up everything. If he believes you'll say it all to him, there's no way you can. There's no way you will. He chuckles.

Doesn't seem to be taking you seriously.

"Yes. And you'll answer every single one of them." He gives a sweet but pressing kiss to your neck.

"No."

"I adore you." Fucking hell. "I broke up with Jiyeun because I adore you too much. I realized I want to spend all my time and energy on my best friend." You don't even know what he means. You can't even hold your eyelids open now, you can't even keep your hand on his arm, it being too heavy and sleep having taken over most of your body.

You bet he's saying that just because he's guessed it. He's figured you all out and the asshole doesn't mind playing with your soft heart. He knows he'll get anything from you if he's this good. Hopefully, tomorrow, he'll have forgotten about his little interrogation because you're not sure you'll be able to lie. For now, he's holding you way too close for you to care. Whatever. May it last forever, this feeling.

A/N: DON’T HATE ME OKAY?! i know i have an issue with angst and endings, for some reasons, i don’t want to hurt my characters but i can’t get myself to write an actual fully happy, non-ambiguous conclusion, and i’m really sorry for it lmao.

i sincerely hope you enjoyed the last part of The Wishlist! Thank you immensely for anyone who’s followed along, please let me know your thoughts, i really really want to know :)

for now, i’m sending you lots of love and kisses, take good care of yourself and others, see ya very very soon :]

tag list: @safi4x​ @kai-kai-bookshelf​ @somewhereinthestarss​ @hsinmyheart​ @moonchild1​ @monvieesdaebak @pasteljoonie​ @fangirls94​ @jinsalpaca​ @ggukkieland​

[hawkwhore]

hi hi hi could i request a hawk imagine where it’s an enemies to lovers kinda thing, so hawk is still in cobra kai and y/n is in miyagi do. basically tori hurts her and he sees her after and gets protective over her, then they get close and kinda secretly date... something like that haha THANK YOUUU <33333

Do Better — Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Female!Reader

HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I literally had an entirely different fic at like 8k words for this before I decided it didn’t fit close enough to the prompt and I just completely started over and this one was even longer than the first so that’s why it took me literal ages LOL.

includes; swearing, fluff, fighting, so much angst

words; 11,394 (im sorry its a whole ass novel)

this takes place late s2, after demetri and hawk’s friendship ends but before eagle fang forms!

Most of your time in high-school you spent in a bubble, keeping to yourself and just your few friends. You didn’t involve yourself in other people’s crap very often, but when an all-out karate war happened at the end of your junior year, you couldn’t keep lurking in the shadows anymore.

Bullying was becoming heavy at your school, and while you weren’t usually a target, you grew tired of watching other people get hurt. Primarily, by a familiar face to you-- Eli Moskowitz.

Not that you knew him particularly well, but you remembered the shy boy you’d shared classes with, and you always tried your best to be nice to him knowing how others treated him.

You never would’ve thought that now he’d be the bully, destroying the confidence of other kids who were just like him.

“Look at this kid,” He laughed to his friend, Mitch. The two boys were standing in the hall, hovering over a small, scrawny boy who looked terrified. “You wanna be in Cobra Kai? Well, see, we had to be un-flinched first. We can do that for you right now, though. See how much you can take.” He teased, threatening a punch, watching the boy wince at his movement.

When you were in the halls on your way to your next class, you witnessed this horrible incident. You watched for a moment, before deciding that it was time for you to step out of your bubble. “Hey, leave him alone.” You said annoyedly, urging the boys to give it up.

Hawk turned to you and leered, and Mitch pushed the kid against the locker so he wouldn’t move while they dealt with you. “Be careful who you talk to like that, princess.” He moved dangerously close, and despite the feelings of anger you had towards him, your stomach dropped a little at the nickname.

Not letting it affect you, you came back bitterly. “Oh yeah? And who am I talking to, Eli?” His face contorted in disgust at the use of his real name. “You know, it’s sad, how you became everything you used to despise. I remember the other side of you, you were sweet..” You said, smiling to your self in remembrance. “And now look at you.” Looking at him in resentment, you finished.

Turning angrily on his heel at your words, Hawk punched the boy in the face and let him go running. He looked back at you with a look of victory, and Mitch smirked. “You better watch your back.” Hawk said threateningly, and knocked his shoulder into yours as he walked to his class.

Through the rest of the day, Hawk thought about you. He knew who you were; Y/N, the only girl to ever be nice to him during his shier days. He remembered the feeling he got any time you’d talked to him, and also how pretty you looked each time you did.

He had almost forgotten until then, how much he had always admired you. He even wanted to ask you out all that time ago, but now too much has changed. Way too much, clearly, because when the commercial for Miyagi-Do came out, you were quick to join.

It was that interaction with Hawk that really set you off, actually. You wanted to be able to stop the cruelty, and you thought that joining Miyagi-Do for defense would be a good start.

Little did you know, the rivalry would only grow.

As weeks passed, Miyagi-Do gained students and flourished. But in the meanwhile, Cobra Kai only got rougher, angrier, and just.. worse, in general.

You had done your best to avoid fights, (like a true Miyagi-Do would) but on a particularly bad day of yours, you were unlucky enough to find yourself running into Tory outside of school.

Being close friends with Sam, you knew to stay clear of Tory after hearing what she did to her. You thought Tory was a vile human being, though, and if she were to start anything-- she was probably the one person you wouldn’t hesitate to absolutely destroy.

When on your way to the dojo, you took a pit stop at a convenience store to pick up some snacks since you had some time to kill between after school and when practice started. You were met with an unpleasant surprise on your way out, when you saw Tory approaching the store.

The two of you made eye contact as you crossed paths, and you decided to ignore her and keep walking. Until, as you walked past each other, Tory stuck out her leg and tripped you over the concrete pathway.

“Are you kidding me, bitch?” You pushed yourself up, scoffing at her, and she smiled maniacally. “What’d you just call me?” She teased, obviously looking for a fight.

As much as you wanted to stay calm, you were pushed over the edge. “You heard me, bitch.” You repeated, letting her know you were not afraid. “What’s your problem? I keep away from you and you just can’t help yourself from starting something. I’ve never even done anything to you.” You confronted Tory, looking for an explanation for her behavior.

It was true, you’d hardly ever interacted with her-- but since you’re in Miyagi-Do and friends with Sam, she just didn’t like you. And Tory being Tory, if she didn’t like someone, she was going to be a bitch about it.

She laughed at your attempt to reason with her, and looked at you in self-satisfaction. “I just think it’d be fun to watch you bleed.” She seemed proud at the insult, stepping forward threateningly-- but you thought it was pretty lame.

Clearly, she had no real answer for the questions you asked her. She was far gone in her own world, using only anger to dictate her decisions.

You had let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head, and turned to simply leave the situation, remembering that it wasn’t worth it. But Tory had other plans.

She grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully forcing your body to face her. You quickly rotated it to release yourself from her grip, and punched her in the face with your newly freed hand.

“Leave me alone, Tory. This fighting for no reason crap is bullshit.” You said, stepping out of her proximity and holding your fists up in case of needed defense. Tory felt blood trickle from her nose, and as she wiped it from her face, she threw you a sickening sneer.

Seemingly avid on letting her rage out on you, she only continued. “You’re pathetic.” She cackled, taking a swing at you. You blocked this, but the movement left an opening for her to then kick your stomach, which sent you to the ground.

Before you could manage to get up again, she was hovering over you, punching your face repeatedly. It wasn’t until the pain was sinking in that you finally gained enough power to push her off, rolling forward and pinning her down tightly.

You grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her face towards the ground. “Give it up, Tory.” She stayed quiet, breathing heavily, until she used her remaining strength to free her arm and dig her elbow into your side.

You fell back at this, and you were now both sat on the ground, mere inches from each other. “Seriously, I mean what’s the point? What are you gaining from this besides a couple of bruises?” You stood up, asking again.

You genuinely wanted to know, what could make a person so heartless. You had done nothing to provoke her, yet she was so intent on hurting you. Your question had unfortunately only sparked her rage again, the way you acted so ‘above it all,’ in Tory’s mind made her only angrier.

She rose, charging towards you for another strike, when the owner of the convenience store came out. “What the hell is this? Do I need to call the police?” The man asked. He had caught you in the blocking position of Tory’s attack, and she bitterly pushed herself off of you.

“You got lucky.” She spat, walking back towards the store she was originally on her way into. “Think about it, Tory! Why?” You yelled as she walked away, wanting your final words to sink into her.

You assured the owner that you were fine, and that he didn’t need to get the cops involved. You took out your phone and checked your complexion in the front camera, cringing seeing the cuts and bruises from Tory’s punches all over your face.

But remembering the bloody nose you had given her in your first punch, you smiled to yourself. Looking at your phone’s clock, you had certainly killed the time, but much more than you had wanted to. You were going to be late, so you texted Sam, alerting her that you got in a fight (sparing the details for later,) and that you would be late to practice.

You figured you could just clean up your cuts when you got home, it wasn’t a big deal, probably. But on your walk to the dojo, a passing car slowed at the sight of you. You started walking faster, instantly assuming the worst, but when the window rolled down, you heard a familiar, extremely unpleasant voice. Hawk.

“On your way to practice, huh? Still no car?” He taunted, knowing you still hadn’t saved up enough to buy your own. You glanced at him and rolled your eyes, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. How many enemies were you going to bump into today?

That was when he noticed your face. “Jesus, Y/N, what happened to you?” He laughed, fully stopping the car. You halted and responded annoyedly, “Tory happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late.” Turning back towards the walkway, you continued down the street.

But before you could get far, Hawk had gotten out of his car and caught up to you. “You’re not seriously headed to the dojo like that are you?” He said confusedly, trying to keep up with your pace.

You looked at him like his question was stupid, and continued walking. At your ignoring of him, he pushed his point further. “You need to clean those cuts.” He said, still following close behind you as you walked.

“Since when do you care?” You said irritated, continuing to disregard the boy’s words. At this, he finally stopped following. “You know what, fine.” He stood, speaking sharply, and you looked at him curiously at his abruptness. “Just trying to help, or, be nice or whatever.” He muttered aggravatedly, raising his hands in mocking surrender at your attitude.

You had ignored his concerns, because quite honestly you didn’t believe he was actually concerned. You had assumed it was some sort of set up for a new insult, or a way to just mess up your face even more.

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty unusual for you, isn’t it?” You said rudely, engaging back in the conversation. Hawk pursed his lips together and shifted uncomfortably.

You didn’t know it, but Hawk still cared about you. He may have changed, but his feelings for you hadn’t— as much as he tried to get them to. And right now, seeing you hurt, and since there was nobody around to judge him for it, he wanted to help you.

“Look, I’ve got some first aid stuff in my car. Let me help.” He stayed where he was, not wanting to provoke you, and spoke softly, nudging his head towards his car.

You narrowed your eyes looking at him, feeling skeptical of accepting the invitation. He noticed your hesitation, but did not back down, looking at you expectantly for an answer.

You let out an exasperated sigh, and walked towards his car without saying a word. Continuing to argue with him about it seemed like a waste of time to you at this point.

Hawk smiled to himself in relief that you gave in. Hurrying after you, he retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk of his car and ran to open the passenger seat door.

“You wanna sit?” He pointed at the seat, motioning you to take it. You dropped your bag and got in the car, still glaring at Hawk.

He seemed sincere in his intentions, but you really just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Who knows what he could really be planning?

As you took your seat, you reached out to take the kit from Hawk’s grasp. “Hold on,” he said, moving the box away from your reach.

You gave him a bothered look, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. “Have you ever even done this before?” He said, referring to cleaning up after a fight.

“No?” You shrugged, “It can’t be that hard.” You said impatiently, reaching for the box again. “Can you please just let me do it? I’ll show you how for next time.” He practically pleaded, wanting to make sure it was done right so you healed properly.

You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him, but you were tired of going back and forth with him. “Whatever, just make it quick. I’ll miss all of karate class at this rate.” You complained, moving closer to the edge of the seat so Hawk could reach you.

The height of his car made you two the same height, so Hawk was face to face with you as you were seated. “Hmm, miss a Miyagi-Do lesson? I don’t see the problem.” He joked, almost making light of their rivalry.

You smiled lightly at that, playfully rolling your eyes, but not saying anything. He stood close enough to examine your face, and it was close enough to make you both nervous.

It was silent as he opened the kit and started to clean your cuts, but you broke it to ask a question that was burning in you. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked at you for a second, looking reluctant to answer your question. “What do you mean?” He dodged, continuing to tend to your bruises.

You laughed, knowing full well he knew what you meant, but deciding to answer him anyway. “Why are you helping me? We aren’t friends.” You said plainly, making sure to keep your face still.

“I don’t know, you just obviously needed it.” He brushed off the seriousness of the question, starting to dab the cloth over your lip so you couldn’t talk.

You pushed his hand away lightly. “That’s hardly an answer. You’d never help a Miyagi-Do, so why?” You snapped, not letting his hand near your face again until he answered.

He finally took a step back, and stared at you looking defeated. “You’re the only one who was ever nice to me. Before.. this.” He pointed to his hair, referring to the era of The Hawk.

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” You asked expectantly, and he rolled his eyes. “Demetri’s different, okay? He betrayed me. But you..”

He trailed off, struggling to maintain eye contact with you. “You were never anything but good to me. You deserve better.” He said, and your heart both stung and fluttered at once, trying to figure out what was going on with him.

You wondered if his actions were truly coming from a place of sincerity. It was very unlike him to be anything but an asshole, so hearing something like that come out of his mouth really made you think.

He tried to ignore the sentiment he had just said by walking back towards you and starting to tend to your wounds again, but you only pushed him back for a second time.

“I don’t understand what happened to you.” You said sadly, examining the way he stood. “I changed.” He said monotonously, trying to avoid matching your energy of seriousness.

His hot-and-cold temper was starting to annoy you, the way he would open up just to close right back down again.

“Yeah, and not for the better. Are you even happy?” You said, frustrated, looking at him hard. His face turned sour.

“More than I was before!” He yelled, stepping towards you threateningly. You were taken aback at his outburst, suddenly feeling small as he grew angrier. “My life was hell, remember?” His voice cracked, and he tried to calm himself as he saw the way you leaned back into your seat uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m sorry for keeping you, I probably cleaned you up enough so... just go.” He said softly, sounding regretful as he moved out of the way so you could get out of the car.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You felt completely clueless on how he was feeling, and you didn’t want to leave it like this. “Hawk-“, you started, but he cut you off. “No, just go.” He pointed away. “I was stupid to think I’d get a second chance with you.” He muttered to himself, turning to walk around to the drivers seat of his car.

“Wh— second chance? What do you mean?” You shouted after him and hopped off the seat, grabbing his arm before he could get too far.

At your tug of his arm, he looked back at you with the most intense feeling in his eyes. Not wanting to use his words anymore, Hawk turned to grab your wrist from the hand that was already resting on his arm, and pulled you against him.

Hawk smashed his lips onto yours, holding you loosely in fear of your rejection. You weren’t expecting it, but you didn’t pull away. Your kiss continued and you subconsciously shuffled backwards, now being able to lean against the side of the car as he grew more passionate in his movements.

Being with him like this felt amazing, but it was confusing, too-- you had to pull away and clear up this situation.

Finally letting each other go, Hawk looked at you with glossy eyes. You had no idea where all of this came from or what to say, so you were silent as you waited for him to explain.

He knew what you were waiting for, and sighed deeply before expressing how he felt. “I just feel like after everything, I owe you my best.” Hawk said quietly, and you waited for him to go on, having not yet made up your mind on the whole situation.

You enjoyed the kiss, yes-- but you didn’t understand why it had happened, and that was something you needed to know before anything could proceed further. Hawk was a jerk, and he was going to have a lot of explaining to do for you to suddenly be able to forget that.

He moved even closer, and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. “And I don’t like seeing you hurt.” He whispered, ghosting his fingers across the bruises on your face.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he touched you, closing your eyes in the moment. “And,” he pulled away from you, his voice changing to a more regular tone again, “I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel pain. Not after all those times you helped me escape mine.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand, as he referred to how you were there for him so long ago.

Pure concern and care for Hawk overtook you as the words left his lips, and you had never felt so conflicted in your life. It made sense to you now why he would often avoid you, whereas others he’d make it his mission to pick fights with.

He had just admitted to caring about you, and that he never wanted to be at fault for your hurt. He had a reputation to uphold, but he really did have a soft spot for you that never went away.

You felt like you were talking to Eli again, as though the sweet boy he once was had never left, but you also knew that once this moment was over, he’d go back to his corrupt ways again. And that terrified you.

All these new feelings for Hawk were rising in you, but how could you act on them when he was supposed to be your enemy?

He studied your expression, waiting for you to say something. He felt more confident now, seeing as you kissed him back, but he was still nervous for whatever you were about to say.

“What do we do?” You spoke shakily, your expression timid and lost. He caressed his thumb over your hand, noticing your own nerves. “What do you mean?” He asked, not expecting that to be your first question.

“I’ve always cared about you and you know that, but then you go through all these changes and become a total dick, and now you kiss me and tell me how you care too.” You say awkwardly, trying to point out the weirdness of the situation. “I’m confused, Hawk, and afraid. We can’t be together when everything about our lives will keep us apart.” You whimpered, scattering your eye contact.

His heart leapt at the mention of you two being together, but frowned once registering the context of the words. He suddenly felt guilty, seeing how distressed you were. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, he thought.

But it was too late now, and as he released your hand to move forward and hold you, he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your ear. He knew his recent actions since joining Cobra Kai weren’t exactly admirable-- he knew he should do better. But it was hard; and all he could muster right now, was an apology.

There was a lot to process in such a short moment of time, and you felt overwhelmed. You felt comforted and safe as he held you, but at the same time you felt wrong for feeling that way.

Maybe he was trying to do right by you, but would that be enough if he continued to act terribly when everyone else was around? You needed some time to think. “I should go.” You pulled away from his grasp, trying to be gentle even though your exit was abrupt.

“Oh,” he nodded, watching as you picked up your karate bag. “I just don’t want everyone at the dojo to worry.” You said, trying to rid the conversation of its tension.

He was trying to play it cool, but he was screaming on the inside, terrified that once you left you would never talk to him again. “Just promise you’ll fix that when you get home.” Referring to your still-slightly-messed-up face, he urged you, unable to refrain from making sure you took care of yourself.

You smiled sadly and nodded in response, feeling awkward about everything as you turned to walk back on your route towards the dojo. “And um,” You looked back at him once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You said, assuming he wouldn’t want his Cobra Kai friends to find out he had kissed a Miyagi-Do.

His heart broke when you said this-- you basically thought he was ashamed of you? In a way you were right, he didn’t want them to know. But the guilt that spread across his face at your words, showed how badly he wanted to tell everyone just how much he liked you.

Clearing his throat, he tried to pull himself together again. “Right, yeah. See you.” He said, and watched you for a moment as you walked away.

Getting back into his car, he fought the emotions threatening to spill out, and pushed them away as he headed home. He couldn’t stop thinking about his next move, and what would happen next time he saw you.

Obviously the first thing he would want to do is kiss you, and hold you, and touch you.. but he knew that instead he would likely end up being encouraged by his friends to attack you in some way.

He couldn’t just say, ‘back off guys, she’s cool, i like her now.’ because that would definitely earn him a beating and a seat at the rejects table. He had been fighting these feelings for so long because of this exact reason, and he was pissed at himself that he couldn’t have just kept it under control for longer.

It would have been easier for him, and you. Even you were worrying as you walked to practice about what you were going to do when you saw him again. Your friends may be more forgiving than Hawk’s, but you doubted they’d be particularly thrilled about any of this news.

They would surely tell you to be careful, not to trust him, that it was just a game to find a weakness in you. These doubts inflicted your mind constantly, and it sucked that you had to figure all of it out on your own.

You were a half-hour late to karate when you arrived, and luckily Sensei Larusso had the tools to heal the remaining injuries on your face. You explained what happened with Tory, but you didn’t tell them about Hawk.

Your classmates were angry, Sam especially, and you were too. But after everything, you knew nobody in Cobra Kai was really in their right mind. Tory was an out of control girl with aggression issues, and Hawk was constantly battling a feeling of pressure and pent-up rage.

The worst thing about being in Miyagi-Do, was knowing the right way to go, and knowing that the right way was going to be a long, slow, and difficult process. It was a waiting game at this point-- how many fights would it take for the Cobra Kai kids to realize that wasn’t what they needed to do?

How much pain would they all have to endure, to realize there were better ways to solve their problems? You had only hoped that Hawk taking this step towards you was a step in the right direction-- and that maybe the rest of the Cobras would soon follow.

But until then, it was a secret. And the next few times you saw Hawk were an extreme struggle for the both of you.

Each passing day that you’d make eye contact at school, you’d both immediately look away. Neither of you had spoken or even texted since the kiss, and you were both failing miserably at proper communication.

At first, you thought that maybe the whole thing had been a mistake, and maybe it should just be left alone. But recalling everything Hawk said to you that day, you couldn’t ignore how real it felt. You wanted to be with him, but you had no clue how to go about that.

You were waiting for Hawk to make the next move, but to Hawk-- the ball was in your court. You had left him there, with no definite answer on how you felt about it, and never got back to him since. It seemed to him like you wanted to forget about it, so when one of Moon’s parties rolled around that weekend, he decided to forget about it too.

You were coming to the party, but got there late; and what a wonderful sight it was for the first thing to see as you walk in be Hawk, face inches away from another girl’s, flirting the night away.

Of course, you thought, feeling disgusted at what was in front of you. Of course everything he said was bullshit. You couldn’t figure out for the life of you what his goal was in pretending to care for you, especially when he got basically nothing out of it except a stupid kiss he could’ve gotten from anyone-- but clearly none of it was as real as you thought it was.

It’d been a few days, sure, but you thought maybe tonight you’d finally just talk to him. You watched as the girl played with the string of Hawk’s hoodie, and feeling a pang of jealousy you decided to walk by them, making sure your presence was known.

It definitely worked, because at the notice of your movements he excused himself from the conversation and followed you out towards the pool, where you had gone to get away from the sight of Hawk and the girl.

“Hey.” He whispered, as you poured yourself a drink. “Hi.” You replied boredly with your back turned to him, not exactly feeling excited to have a conversation with him.

He looked around, scoping out who may be listening, but luckily the only others outside were heavily invested in the drinking game going on at the other side of the patio.

Hawk could tell you were bothered about the girl, but didn’t understand why, since you had so obviously been avoiding him.

“Can we talk?” He asked, still being cautious as to not attract any attention. “Go ahead.” You were being difficult, but quite frankly you thought he deserved it. He made you spend days analyzing what had happened between you, only for him to move on from it after a few days?

He stomped closer, and you looked up at him. “You know we can’t talk here.” He nodded his head towards the back of the yard, hoping you’d go with him somewhere private.

You scoffed, and looked at the spot doubtfully. You were upset, but still curious to hear what he had to say. “Fine.” You rolled your eyes, feeling disappointed in yourself for giving in, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t dying to know what the hell he was thinking.

Hawk walked eagerly to the secluded part of Moon’s property, hoping to get some clarity from you. But before Hawk could say anything, your anger got the best of you.

“So what the hell is your problem?” You started, as soon as you knew you were out of earshot from the rest of the party. Hawk looked taken aback, his eyebrows immediately coming together. “Me? What are you talking about?” He said, offended.

You looked at him in disbelief, mouth dropping open slightly. “Are you joking? Are we going to pretend you weren’t just about to make out with that girl in there?” You said, feeling a twinge of hurt from your own words.

His face knotted in confusion and annoyance. “Seriously? You’re jealous right now? After I confessed everything to you, and you avoided me for days afterwards, I was just supposed to think you actually wanted me?” He tried to keep his voice down, but his emotions were getting the better of him.

“What? I just needed some time to think! It’s not like you bothered to text me either!” You whisper-shouted, now feeling like you were missing something.

“Well when you kiss someone and they basically run away from you, who’s responsibility do you think it is to reach out after?!” He threw his arms up in bafflement, looking at you expectantly.

Your face fell to a look of guilt, and eventually his did too. Suddenly you both felt like idiots at how far you jumped to conclusions.

“I was gonna talk to you today. But when I saw you in there with that girl, all these insecurities just came over me. I thought everything you said was just some Cobra prank and it never meant anything.” Your face drooped, feeling a little embarrassed to admit any of this.

His eyes saddened, and he shook his head. “And I just thought you hated me, and that no matter what I said it’d never be enough for you to forgive me.” He explained his own worry, and your eyes started to water at his words.

Feeling overwhelmed after finally being able to piece together what had been going on this whole time, you sprung into his arms, hugging him tightly. You both stayed embraced, enjoying the feeling of comfort from each other once again, until you finally felt strong enough to pull yourself away.

He kept a hand around your head, as though cradling something delicate. “I meant everything I said that day. It’s not a scheme. I want to be with you.” He told you, proving your suspicions wrong.

You smiled weakly, feeling warm at his confession, but nervous for what’s to come. “I’m sorry I never texted you, but I just don’t get how we’re going to do this.” You said, unconvinced. “We can’t tell anyone, and despite whatever we have, there are a lot more reasons why we won’t work than will.” You look away, your mood of happiness faltering at the idea of being realistic.

“I mean, you know I like you Hawk. And maybe it’s different for us, but, I can’t exactly support the way you treat other people.” You say reluctantly, trying not to sound rude. Hawk gulped, looking down shamefully.

Not wanting to think realistically right now, he ignored what you said and pulled you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” He said sweetly, and moved his hand to lift your chin, kissing you tenderly. As nervous as you were about all of it, the way he kissed you somehow seemed to make all your worries disappear.

Just then as your lips met, sirens went off nearby. “Shit, cops?” Hawk said, breaking apart from you. You giggled at the unfortunate turn of events. “You go that way,” you pointed him in the opposite direction of where you were planning to exit, not wanting others to notice you were together. “See you around.” You said playfully, and he caught on to your plan.

Before he could give you a final peck or even say goodbye, you were gone around the corner of the house, and he wondered longingly when he’d finally be able to kiss you again.

The next couple days at school you’d both done your best to avoid looking suspicious with each other. There were many stolen glances, and lots of private texts, but you both somehow managed to keep whatever fling you two had completely under wraps.

Though you had been initially uncomfortable with the whole secret-dating-thing, you eventually gave up on worrying about what would happen if others found out. You were happy, and having a lot of fun sneaking around with Hawk.

You noticed he had even toned down some of his bullying, and your heart felt full at the thought that he might have done that for you. Of course, there were always a few ‘slip-ups’.. but he made sure you weren’t around to see those.

Even if it was difficult, it was thrilling in a way-- having make-out sessions in his car when no one was around to see, and slipping in through each others’ windows at night to see each other... 

It was fun, pretending to hate each other by day, and then not being able to stay away from each other by night. It felt like the whole school was being pranked, and you two were the only ones in on it.

It had been a few weeks now since you admitted to liking each other at Moon’s party, and you were now headed to the sports shed near the soccer field where Hawk had asked you to meet him after school.

You’d came here and gotten a little wild with him twice before, so at the invitation you fully expected to be met with an aggressive Hawk, ready to hook up. But instead when you opened the shed door, he was standing shyly and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Hey,” he said, taking a small step forward to meet where you were standing. “Hi, baby,” you grinned and kissed him chastely, taking note of the more innocent energy coming from him today.

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes examining your face adoringly. “Um,” he said, radiating nervousness and backing up slightly. “What’s up?” You smiled at him curiously, taking his hands in yours.

After only a moment, he released his hands from your hold, and you suddenly felt concerned. Why was he acting so weird? You watched confusedly as he fiddled with the inside pocket of his jacket, not saying a word.

Pulling out a small box, he opened it to reveal a simple but beautiful silver necklace. “Hawk!” You gasped, looking at it in awe. He felt more confident at your reaction, and felt safe to say something again.

“I thought that, since we always have to act around each other, you could wear it as a reminder of how we really feel.” He said, searching your expression for some sort of approval.

You stared at him in admiration, not yet able to find the words to respond. “It’s simple, so nobody will think it means anything, but, we’ll know.” He spoke again, hoping for it to grant a response from you this time.

Your face began to bloom with happiness. Taking the box from his hands, you kissed him passionately. “I love it. Can you put it on me?” You asked cheerfully, and Hawk smiled brightly. “Yeah,” he nodded excitedly, turning you around.

You did your best to move your hair out of the way, and Hawk gently pushed the few stray strands to the side. Feeling his fingers brush across your skin, you breathed heavily. You could feel his own breath hot on your neck, as he clasped the two ends of the jewelry together.

With your back still against his torso, he placed his hands around your waist, starting to leave soft kisses against your ear, and down towards your collarbone.

You closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling, until the door of the shed barged open. You stumbled away from each other in shock, and looked to see Tory standing in front of the both of you.

“I knew it! What the hell is this, Hawk?” She screamed, prowling towards you. Feeling completely unprepared from the utter suddenness of the situation, you stepped back in fear. “What are you doing here!?” Hawk shouted, ignoring Tory’s question as he blocked her path from getting to you.

She sneered at the both of you, stopping as she noticed his protectiveness over you. “I’ve noticed how you sneak off at the end of school. I finally decided to follow you here.” She said matter-of-factly, giving you a glare.

“So what is she, Hawk? Your girlfriend?” She taunted, starting to circle you. Out of everything she’d said so far, that was the thing that actually made you the most nervous. You hadn’t actually used that word before... ‘girlfriend,’ you hadn’t really made it official, despite how much it felt like you already had.

You weren’t sure how Hawk would react now that he was caught, but you desperately hoped he would say, ‘Yes, she is, and I love her.’ But that was nowhere close, to what he said.

“What? No! We’re just having some fun, alright? It doesn’t mean anything.” He forced a laugh, stepping away from you. Your heart ached. This is what you were afraid of. You knew it was probably for the best for him to have said that, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt you felt when you heard him say it.

You wished he would’ve right then and there just admitted it, stood up for himself, and chosen you. He could’ve just told the truth, and left Cobra Kai, and been with you. But you weren’t enough. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Oh, really.” Tory scoffed, barely believing his lie as she looked between the two of you. “You can have fun with anyone, Hawk, and you a choose a Miyagi-Do?” She spat, staring him down, and his usually-confident demeanor diminished instantly. “Break it off, or I tell everyone.”

Storming off, her threat lingered in the air as the two of you stood alone, unable to meet each other’s gazes.

“Maybe we should just end this, Y/N.” Hawk spoke meekly, finally breaking the silence. Your eyes widened in horror, forcing yourself to look up at him. “What?” You said, your voice faltering. “So that’s just it then?”

Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes again as he met your stare. “We don’t have any other choice!” He shouted angrily, getting in your face. Your mouth fell agape at the way he was acting, your expression hardening.

“Yes, we DO!” You shouted back, and sobs started to escape you. You of course meant the choice being he stands up to the Cobras, and fights for your relationship. You understood his dilemma in the beginning, but at this point none of it seemed worth it to you anymore.

His eyes were fixated on you intensely, and his mind was running a mile a minute trying to figure out what to do.

“You can easily stand up to them, the Cobras! You’re stronger than all of them combined. Why won’t you fight for us?” You cried, searching for any sign in his face that showed he regretted his words. He had never said so, but you could tell the only thing holding him back was the fear of the Cobras’ reactions.

His insides scrambled with guilt watching you cry. But he had to stay strong. Unaffected, unfazed, completely unbothered. That’s how he forced his expression to appear as he turned and left the shed, leaving you alone and in pain as you watched your worst fear come true.

“Hawk!” You yelled after him, but he only kept walking. “What happened to never wanting to be the reason I felt pain?” Your voice cracked, and you wiped your tears from your face, giving up.

Your words cut into Hawk like a knife. If even possible, Hawk was hurting more than you. Each step he took farther away from where you stood, he felt his heart scatter into another piece. He wished things could be different, too-- but you were too much of a risk.

Cobra Kai may be a large reason for his troubles, but it was also the only reason he was still on top. He wanted you so bad, but he was too afraid to let go of everything else just to have you.

It was safer this way, he told himself. If nobody knew, you’d be safer. You wouldn’t have to be involved in the drama that would come from it, you wouldn’t have another reason for the Cobras to come after you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Hawk repeated these things to himself over and over to make himself feel better about the way things ended. But no matter what he told himself, it was never enough for him to fully believe that he made the right choice.

Feeling helpless, you called the only person you thought might understand. “D-Demetri?” You spoke into the phone, taking a gasp for air between sobs.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” He answered, sounding worried. “I need to talk to you, can you-” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “Can you come get me?” You were nervous he wouldn’t be able to, but you needed someone in person, not over text.

You and Demetri weren’t particularly besties, so for you to call him out of the blue, crying, was extremely worrisome to him. “Uh, yeah, okay sure. I only just left so I can turn back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, you thanked Demetri and hung up, walking out of the shed and towards the front of the school to where he would be meeting you. Hawk was supposed to be your ride home, but clearly that was no longer an option.

When Demetri arrived, he didn’t wait for you to get in the car, he immediately got out and walked over to you. “What happened?” He said cautiously, becoming nervous about having to deal with others’ emotions.

He was never particularly great at consolation, being the awkward and blunt person he is-- and he really didn’t want to make things worse for you.

“It’s Eli,” You said, trying to hold back your tears. “I did something really stupid.” Your lip quivered, feeling embarrassed talking about it. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about you and Hawk, but at this point, you had nothing left to lose.

Demetri looked at you confused. “What do you mean?” To his knowledge, you and Hawk barely conversed, and there should be absolutely no reason whatsoever for you to be crying over him.

The closer you got to explaining it, the harder it got to contain your emotions. Despite knowing Demetri wasn’t very keen on hugs, you ran into him, desperate for the feeling of comfort.

At this point, Demetri’s level of concern was on the rise. Why on earth would you hug him? That’s never happened before. “I just thought you’d be the only one who would understand... if I told someone.” You spoke, words slightly muffled as you were pressed into his chest.

Reluctantly, Demetri accepted your hug and rested his arms around you. “Okay, Y/N, you’re scaring me. What did he do?” He asked, looking down at you.

Gaining the courage to explain yourself, to Demetri’s relief you let go of him and steadied your breathing. “A few weeks ago.. Hawk and I kissed.” You said hesitantly, preparing for the worst.

“What?” Demetri’s face scrunched into the most confused and offended look you’d ever seen him wear. “I know, okay, just wait.” You told him, hoping he would hear you out.

“I thought it was just a stupid mistake, or something?” You began, recalling the uncertainty you felt when it first happened. “But then he said all this stuff about how much he cared about me, and it turns out we actually have something real.”

Aware of the weirdness of what you were saying, you looked to see how Demetri was handling it. He showed a look of understanding, but you could tell he was simply masking the discomfort he was truly feeling. “It was really confusing at first, but then we started secretly dating.. because we knew everyone would flip if they found out.” You continued, the awkwardness worsening with each sentence spoken.

Demetri’s eyebrows rose. “Dating?” You visibly cringed at the reaction, but carried on with your story. “And he even started being nicer to people!” You mentioned, hoping to make the situation seem like you weren’t a complete idiot for allowing it to happen. “Because, I told him I didn’t think I could be with him-- with the way he treats people, you know? And things were actually going well until today--”

You took a moment, preparing the end of your explanation in the hopes you wouldn’t start to cry through it. Demetri looked at you impatiently.

“When Tory found us together and threatened to tell everyone about us if we didn’t break it off, and then Hawk just left me there and said that we should end things because he’s a coward and can’t do what’s right because HE WANTS TO LOOK COOL.” You shouted, running through the sentences fast and furiously. Instead of getting sad like you thought you would, you got angry. Ah yes, another stage of grief.

Demetri looked slightly scared of you at your sudden tantrum, but having heard your story, he did understand what you were feeling-- because in a way, it had happened to him too. This time, it was him who reached out to hug you, and you appreciated him for it. Hugs always seemed to make you feel calm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know how it feels. He’s stuck right now, but we can’t give up, okay? He’ll come around.” He said honestly, awkwardly patting your back. You laughed a tiny bit, seeing Demetri trying to console, but you were grateful for his presence.

You released each other from the hug, and you wiped any leftover tears off of your face. “Thanks, Demetri.” You said, smiling sweetly. He nodded, placing his hand on your arm in reassurance, and motioned for you to follow to his car.

The ride back to your house was quiet, but your thoughts were busy and loud. That’s how things were for awhile after that day. You kept to yourself again, and though you tried to look alive, you felt like you had retreated back inside the bubble you worked so hard to get out of.

You went to school, you went to karate, you did whatever responsibilities you had to do-- but for the rest of your free time, you spent it alone in your room, wondering what it would take for Hawk to come back to you.

It was unhealthy, really, how you would wait everyday for a sign of acknowledgement from Hawk, and decline any other social invitation because you never got one.

You even wore the necklace, everyday, in hopes that he’d notice and remember how much you meant to him. But it never worked. He never came back.

You got away with the isolation for awhile, but people were starting to notice how you’ve been pulling away. At least you had Demetri to cover for you once and awhile, to help keep up the facade that you were okay.

Because, you weren’t. You wondered if Hawk was, though. He certainly seemed like he was okay, but he couldn’t be. For your own peace of mind, you had to think he couldn’t be. To think that he was doing just fine while you were spending your days miserable, wouldn’t be fair.

He’s stuck right now, but he’ll come around. Demetri’s words echoed in your head, wondering if they were even true. Would he ever really come around? Is he in too deep? The thoughts scared you beyond belief, but as more days passed, the more you believed them.

You eventually forced yourself to stop caring. To stop thinking about it, and to just give it up. You’d spent too long waiting for him, and you were done letting his actions control your happiness. Although there was a part of you that could never really stop caring, you convinced yourself that it was gone.

After a few weeks, you stopped wearing the necklace. When you showed up to school without it on, it was the first time Hawk had noticeably looked at you since the breakup. He always avoided your eye contact, but that day he locked them onto yours as you passed him in the hall. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your neck, and you could see the glum look all over his face.

As much as you wanted to give in to the hope that he missed you, you ignored it. You weren’t going to let any of those thoughts in again-- not when you already worked so hard to let go of them.

Hawk watched you make your way through the corridors, hardly caring who noticed. While you may have had the ability to attempt to move on, he didn’t. It was his fault any of this happened after all, and it was completely up to him whether or not he could fix things between you.

The pressure of knowing he was the only reason for your and his despair was agonizing, and with the necklace no longer around your neck, he realized he was running out of time.

Time is what he thought he had, to turn things around for himself, and you. But his window was closing, and he was panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, Hawk waited a few blocks away from where you trained at Miyagi-Do, knowing he’d catch you on your walk home.

Making your way down the sidewalk after practice, you were completely unsuspecting when Hawk jumped out of his car and jogged towards you.

Things had really come full circle now, hadn’t they? You, walking home on that same sidewalk, pure disgust for Hawk in your veins as he tried to catch up with you.

You stopped short as Hawk stood in front of you, blocking your path. You were nervous and confused at his intrusion, and decided not to bother avoiding him right now.

His stare towards you was intense, and you only glared back, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

“You stopped wearing the necklace.” He said it so plainly, you couldn’t tell what kind of response he was looking for. It seemed almost like a question in disguise-- why did you stop wearing the necklace, perhaps?

He was looking at you eagerly, though trying to hide the desperation behind the statement.

“Yeah, and?” You laughed at him, matching his tone of carelessness. He looked like he didn’t understand, so you continued. “What’d you expect? That I’d just keep waiting for you?” You said unpleasantly, with a hint of sadness in your own voice.

A shameful look glossed over his features, but you only kept going. “It’s obvious you’re not coming back, Hawk.” You smile at him mockingly, enjoying the feeling of guilt you were giving him.

He tried to stay strong, but every word you spoke was like a hit to his built-up walls, and they were so close to falling down.

“I spent weeks wondering what I’d have to do to get you to come back to me. To choose me.” You said, your voice calm, but the rest of you not. Your body was shaking with anger now, but your eyes were brimming with tears.

“Until,” You sniffled, gaining a tone of indifference, “I finally realized there was nothing for me to do. You just weren’t coming.” You were almost smiling through the pain, and Hawk looked at you in a loss for words.

You appeared so fragile to him, he just wanted to wrap you in his arms and spout apology after apology for what he’d caused. Seeing your eyes squint in attempt to hold back the waterworks, physically pained him.

“So yeah, I stopped wearing the necklace. But you know what?” You stepped forward confidently, despite the single tear that had just fallen down your face. “I think it hurt more wearing it than it did taking it off.” You finished with hardly any emotion in your voice, and Hawk looked mortified seeing you try to act so unaffected.

He had been silent through your whole exchange, because he knew there was nothing he could say now to make things better. He had done too much damage, and he had caused you too much pain. He did exactly what he said he’d never do.

You waited for him to say something, anything-- but as your eyes bore into his strongly, he couldn’t find the courage to speak. The disappointment was immense, and feeling hopeless once again, you pushed past him to go home.

Panicking at your leave, Hawk grabbed onto your arm. “Y/N, Wait, please-” “No!” You cut him off, looking at him coldly. His face was red, and his eyes were stinging now, too. Ignoring the feeling you got when you saw him like that, you ripped your arm from his grasp. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned to leave again, and this time, Hawk didn’t follow. There was only one thing Hawk could do now to get you back, and you knew he wasn’t ready for it. There was no use in you hanging around for him anymore, you deserved better. You deserved someone who cared enough that they’d do what it takes to be with you, regardless of social status.

You didn’t even care if he stayed in Cobra Kai, you just wanted him to stand up to his friends and be proud that he was with you. Didn’t he realize that he was one of the strongest Cobras, and that he could get through any of their shit? If his biggest problem was Tory, he hardly had any reason to stay quiet. You knew deep down he could do better.

Hawk hadn’t understood that then, but as he lingered on you walking away, something clicked in his head.

Maybe he really could do better. He wanted to, for you. He was still terrified at the idea of coming clean to the Cobras, but whatever he’d deal with from that couldn’t be any worse than being without you.

He liked the power he had being in Cobra Kai, and he hoped that he could keep it-- but if losing the power meant gaining you, at this point he was totally okay with that risk. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to negotiate with his friends first.

“Y/N!” It was a new day at school, and you were walking side by side Sam heading to your lunch table when he called your name. You shared a look with Sam, glancing towards him with a bothered look upon your face. “Come here!” Hawk shouted again, apparently not caring that the whole cafeteria had his attention.

A look of dread spread across your face, and you slammed your lunch tray on your friends’ table in defeat before stomping over to where Hawk and his asshole friends sat. Your friends watched from afar, completely clueless as to what Hawk would need you for, and Demetri struggled to pretend he was just as lost as they were.

“What.” You said bluntly, staring him and the rest of his table down. “Yeah, seriously, what are you doing calling her over here?” Mitch asked, looking at you in revulsion, and you rolled your eyes at him.

Hawk looked between you and his friends, struggling to keep his confident manner in tact, and sighed uncomfortably. “I know we don’t like the Miyagi-Dos. And we don’t like the way they run their dojo.” He stated, hoping to hook his friends in by starting negatively towards their rivals.

His friends looked at him in reluctance, wondering where he was going with this-- and you did too. “But I love Y/N.” He said loudly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and looking around at his friends. He was more nervous to see your reaction than theirs, so he barely looked at you once he said it.

“What?” The words came strongly from not only his friends, but you, too. He had never told you that before, and your heart melted at his declaration. When you spoke, he gathered the courage to look at you, and you’d never seen him so nervous.

“I love you.” He repeated, looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and on top of that he was announcing it to the whole school. You glanced over to see Demetri, mouth ajar, observing the interaction like it were a movie.

He meant it, and you could tell. He was waiting on you for a response, feeling more stress than he’d felt in a long time as he studied your bewildered expression.

Before you could say anything, Bert interrupted the moment. “You can’t love a Miyagi-Do. They’re stuck-up pansies who think they’re better than us.” He said, completely convinced that Hawk was out of his mind and needed a wake-up call.

Hawk cringed a little at the feedback, but was surprised when you decided to bite back. “I joined Miyagi-Do because I was tired of people getting bullied. You all choose violence when it isn’t needed, so I just wanted to be prepared.” You defended your intentions, fearlessly.

Tory snorted. “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She jabbed, trying to make fun of your self defense skills. Before you could retort, Hawk slammed his hand down on the table and leaned in towards his peers.

“Listen! I’m with you guys, but she’s right. We’ve been reckless.” He said carefully, trying to keep a balance between who’s side he was on. “Sensei told us to fight smart, and we haven’t been.” He locked eyes with Tory, clearly sending her a message.

You watched as Hawk tried to reason with them, admiring his every move. Keeping up his confidence, he set down what was going to happen, and there’d be no arguments against it. “You guys can hate the Miyagi-Dos all you want, but I’m going to be with Y/N, and I’m staying in Cobra Kai.” 

Interlacing his hand with yours, he looked at you pridefully before turning back to the outraged looks on his friends’ faces. “From now on, if any one of you touches her, you deal with me. That’s of course if she doesn’t kick your ass first.” He said smugly, and you smiled widely, feeling content at his speech.

Your heart was jumping out of your chest at the gesture he made, and you wanted to smash your lips onto his and tell him how much you loved him back-- but you kept yourself restrained for the sake of the situation.

Most of the Cobras nodded nervously at his announcement, not wanting to challenge Hawk when he was so sure of himself. But Tory wasn’t having it. “You guys can’t seriously be okay with this?” She snapped, death-glaring the entire table.

The group looked like they were trying to decide whether they were more afraid of Hawk, or Tory. You smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter their reaction, you had won this, because you were with him now. It would certainly be a bonus if you gained their acceptance, though.

Mitch looked around in uncertainty about what he was going to say, but stuck up for Hawk. “Come on Tory, I mean, I get it... she’s hot.” He said referring to you, and you laughed a little at the shallow but positive response.

Hawk wasn’t as pleased with it though. “Hey.” He threatened, pointing a finger at Mitch. You giggled slightly at his jealous reaction, but pulled him back from Mitch by the hand you were holding his with. Mitch raised his hands in surrender, and Tory stood from the table, getting close to the both of you.

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, assholes.” She spat, and stormed away from the table. It went better than you would’ve thought, truthfully. Everyone else was loyal to Hawk, and you didn’t really expect anything less from Tory. Again, having Tory be your only threat seemed like small potatoes now that you two were together.

You nodded at the rest of the Cobras in respect, and with that whole thing being over, you tugged him by the hand towards your table of Miyagi-Dos. Hawk groaned, realizing where you were taking him, but did his best to stay civil.

Chris glowered at the both of you, and Sam looked a little disappointed, but she tried to look supportive. “So.... yeah. Sorry.” You said sheepishly, knowing that they had already heard everything.

“I’m glad it finally worked out.” Demetri said through a sad smile. You felt a little bad, knowing that Demetri still needed to work out his relationship with Hawk, and here you were rubbing yours in his face. That would be your next mission, you suppose-- operation get Demetri and Hawk to be friends again.

“Thanks, Dem.” You said appreciatively, and Hawk looked suspiciously between the two of you. “Wait, did you tell him before?” He asked defensively. The whole table looked to you and Demetri curiously, and you crossed your arms sassily.

“Uh, did I call someone to come get me after you left me alone in a shed? Yeah.” You recovered, your facial expression sly as you knew he couldn’t come back from that one. The others looked at him exasperatedly at your response, and his face dropped instantly. 

“Oh my god, Y/N I am so sorry about that.” He cowered, immediately dropping it, and you laughed at the remorse he was finally showing. You already knew he was sorry, but you guess it was nice to hear him say it.

He didn’t understand why you were laughing, though. He felt awful. And he also really needed a chance to completely apologize to you in private, now that he had already confessed his true feelings.

Suddenly, he picked you up entirely, arms holding your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. “Whoah, what is happening?” You laughed, looking at your friends who all looked just as puzzled as you.

Without saying anything else, he took off out of the lunch room carrying you, and made his way to the nearest exit to the outdoors. “Babe, where are we going?” You cackled, amused at the adventure he was taking you on.

Finally outside and alone, he let you down gently in front of him, and took your hands in his lightly. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I was a complete idiot for letting you go. You knew all along that we could do it, and I was too busy being a pussy to even try. And I’m really sorry for everything that went down today, I hope you aren’t mad, I literally told you I loved you in front of everyone and that must’ve been awkward, I mean you didn’t even get to respond, which, now that I think about it maybe you didn’t want to, or--”

You silenced his rambling with a forceful kiss, grabbing the sides of his face with your hands. “I love you too, Hawk.” You said, pulling away from the kiss quickly, to give him the response he had been looking for.

He smiled big in return, and it turned your insides to mush. “You know, I realized we never got the chance to make things official.” He looked up at you cutely and you smiled back, knowing what was coming.

“So, will you be my girlfriend?” He asked charmingly, his face mere inches from yours. Blushing furiously, you nodded as you touched your forehead to his. “Mhm,” You said in agreement, grinning.

He took a moment, just admiring the look of you so happy, and with his manner still playful, he reminded you of something you had said before. “See? I came back to you.” He said proudly.

You looked at him lovingly, feeling a little emotional at the sentiment. His expression turned serious now, and he parted from you only slightly. “I’m gonna do better for you, Y/N. I promise.” He spoke lowly, and you put your hands on his shoulders, beaming at him in acknowledgement.

You stepped forwards again, getting closer to him. He gave a seductive smirk at your movement, and you subconsciously traced your fingers along his neck, fixated on his face more than anything.

Hawk stared back at you affectionately, his attention flickering down towards your lips. Feeling bold, he placed his hands dangerously low on your waist, and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. You quickly reacted, letting your hands travel to the nape of his neck, your mouth opening slightly-- allowing Hawk the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your lips stayed connected as Hawk’s hands made their way up your back, his chest pressing closer to yours. As much as you wanted to continue, you were in broad daylight right outside the halls of your school-- and you really didn’t want a detention for too much PDA.

“Mm, Hawk-” You giggled, breaking away from him. “Hm?” He smiled, his hands resting loosely on your waist as he pecked your lips again before letting you free. “If we don’t go back in soon we’ll miss the whole lunch period.” You said, disappointedly.

“Eh, that’s fine with me.” He shrugged, smirking at you as he clutched you closer. You scoffed playfully, hitting him lightly, and gave him one last kiss before escaping his grip.

He pouted at you, and you looked back at him mischievously. He missed your touch already, so he snaked his arm around your waist as you walked back inside to satisfy his need of holding you.

You felt on top of the world with him by your side, now having full confidence in him and his feelings for you. “It’s a good thing I still have the necklace, huh?” You teased, looking back up at him, and Hawk smiled, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

Though your comment may have only been a joke, both of you felt whole at the idea of you wearing the necklace-- and as you walked joyfully through the halls with him, you knew you’d never be taking it off again.

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

i just wanna talk about real quick how much i cringe when writing like its actually terrible how much i cringe at myself so idk if i’ll keep doing fics or not HAHAH but y’all can always send requests and i’ll get around to them if i can. hope yall liked this one tho and made it through the whole thing cuz yikes.

[moon-light-jukebox]

Stay with me - [Hotch x Reader]

Request prompt: Heyyyyy I was wandering if you still took requests cause I’ve been dying to have this written. I’m thinking something about reader being youngest of the bunch at BAU and after a really intense and scary case everyone is kinda shook and in the jet reader can’t stop sobbing by herself in the back and hotch goes and comforts her and when they get home he goes with her home and holds her in her sleep and then they make love at like 3-4 am. I just need details and a lot of feels. I hope you’ll do it

Summary: After a tragic loss that rocks the entire team, Reader turns to her unit chief for comfort. 

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Fem!Reader

Word Count:  5.1k

Genre: Overwhelmingly angst. then some smut and fluff. 

Rating: Mature

Content Warning: Angst, mentions of torture suffered by a victim. Normal Criminal minds stuff. Smut. Oral sex (female receiving). Unprotected sex. 

A/n: I hope this is what you had in mind, Anon. This request just jumped out at me. This is set during season 9. 

-- Stay with me --

stay is a sensitive word. we wear who stayed and who left in our skin forever.

- Nayyirah Waheed

-- September 2, 2013 --

Some cases stick with you long after you board the jet home. Some cases crawl inside your skin and hollow you out. Some cases become a part of you.

The team had been called to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma to help catch a serial killer. I had only been a member of the BAU for 4 months, so it wasn’t uncommon for cases to still rattle me. Rossi said that I’d develop a thicker skin over time.

But this case seemed to even rattle him.

Over the past 15 years, on the same day every year, a woman’s body was found in a public place. She had been violently assaulted and tortured. The local M.E. always said the torture took place over the span of at least 10 months.

I felt my stomach roll when I read over the case file. I don’t think there was a form of pain he didn’t inflict on these women.

We had his prints; we had his DNA. None of that mattered, this man was a ghost.

September 1st had been fast approaching, and the local police knew they most likely couldn’t save the woman that had already spent the last several months with him. One deputy said that killing the woman would be a mercy, because “who could ever recover from that.”

We spent a week in Oklahoma; we started at the very beginning. I poured over the lives of 15 women, praying that maybe I could help us find 16 in time, praying I could save 17 before he ever touched her.

-- August 30, 2013 –

“Morgan,” Hotch said, his eyes scanning over the document in front of him. “I want you and y/n to interview Heather Pruitt’s brother.”

Derek’s eyebrows went up. “We’ve already talked to him, Hotch. He has an alibi. Do you think he knows something else?”

The unit chief nodded. “Heather was our first victim. She was important to the unsub.”

“Probably the most important,” Rossi chimed in.

Hotch nodded. “Understanding why Heather was so special to him is how we catch him.”

Morgan clicked his tongue against his teeth, nodding in agreement. “Okay…” he trailed off. “Are you sure y/n is up for this?” He turned to me; hands raised. “No offense, it’s just that…”

“I’m young,” I finished for him. Dr. Spencer Reid was the youngest person to ever join the BAU…and I was the second. I was 25 years old. The closest person in age to me was the resident genius, Dr. Reid, who was almost 32. I had earned my spot in the team, but I was no Spencer.

Morgan nodded, not looking abashed in the slightest. “Maybe Blake would be a better choice, Hotch.”

His dark eyes ran over me, considering Morgan’s words. “I’m sending her in because she’s so young. People don’t perceive her as a threat.”

“They never saw me as one,” Spencer said softly.

JJ laughed, swatting his arm. “You’re still not a threat, Spence.”

-- August 31, 2013 –

“Mr. Pruitt,” I said brightly, extending my hand. “Thank you so much for coming to speak with us.”

The older man nodded, meeting my gaze evenly. “Anything to help you catch this son of a bitch.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Rachel, darlin’, why don’t you wait right here? I don’t want you to have to…hear about what happened to my sister.”

The woman, Rachel, was small and pale. She had dark brown hair and blue eyes. “Of course,” she said softly, pressing a kiss against David Pruitt’s mouth.

"Do you need anything, ma'am?" I asked her.

“No,” she responded meekly. “I’m fine.”

I looked right into her eyes and smiled warmly at her before I turned away to follow Morgan and Mr. Pruitt into the interview room.

-- September 1, 2013 –

The entire team was standing around the precinct waiting for the call. JJ was gripping her cup of coffee tightly. Reid was staring at a map that was taped on the evidence board. Morgan was looking down at his phone while he talked to Blake. Hotch and Rossi were standing near the Sherriff of Broken Arrow.

We hadn’t stopped him. If he held to pattern, then victim 16 was already gone, and we’d be getting a call about her body soon.

I felt numb. I felt like I had missed something.

The shrill ringing of a phone made all of us tense up, every head in the precinct immediately turning to the receptionist at the front of the room. She spoke for a few moments before she hung up, giving the sheriff a grim nod. “She’s at the park off 6th street, Bruce.”

We all sprang into action, racing out the door to our vehicles. Morgan drove one SUV, Hotch drove the other. We knew we were too late for this girl, but maybe, just maybe, if we got there quick enough and the crime scene was fresh enough, we could find something.

The local police beat us there by a few minutes. Hotch hadn’t even parked before I was opening the door.

I couldn’t explain it then, but I had a feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was a darkness I couldn’t pinpoint, the sort of thing that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

She was on a park bench, her eyes wide and unseeing. “No,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Morgan sighed out before he turned and marched back to his SUV.  

I felt someone’s hands grip my shoulders. “Y/l/n,” Hotch said gently. “I know, but we have to go. He’s revealed himself now. He’s going to try to run.”

And I knew he was right, so I bottled my feelings up as I ran towards the SUVs. We had to find David Pruitt before he left town.

He was our unsub. He killed his sister 16 years ago…and we were certain of that because the 16th victim was his girlfriend.

The same girlfriend that was within our reach yesterday. She was being tortured by this animal…and we had let her go home with him.

-- September 2, 2013 –

The mood on the jet felt heavy. No one was speaking, no one had said much of anything since we found Mary Beth in the park yesterday morning.

Her name wasn’t even Rachel. David Pruitt had to take everything from his victims, including their names. He broke her so badly that not only did she not scream for help in the middle of a police station, she probably couldn’t even remember her own name.

I couldn’t read the entire autopsy report. Rossi and Morgan went to the morgue to speak with the M.E.

Rossi said he was surprised she was even able to stand the day we saw her.

And that was the hardest thing of all. We fucking saw her.

I wasn’t quite sure how the rest of the team managed to keep their emotions so compartmentalized. I saw how this was bothering each of them, but none of them seemed close to breaking.

Not like I was.

I just kept seeing her face over and over again. Her wide eyes, her polite smile. The pictures of her broken body. How different her eyes looked when she was on the park bench. It was all on a loop in my mind.

When we boarded the jet, I sat in the very back, away from the rest of the team. I stared out the window, unseeing. How could I have missed it?

“Y/l/n,” a voice said softly. “Are you okay?”

I hadn’t realized that tears were slipping down my cheeks until I heard Hotch’s voice. I looked up at him. He was my unit chief, the strongest of any of us. If there was anyone I couldn’t afford to break in front of, it was him.

“Yeah,” I said hurriedly, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n.”

I just nodded. Please leave, please leave. If he walked away, maybe I could hold it together a little while longer.

But he didn’t leave. He knelt down beside me in the middle of the aisle. In the months since I joined the BAU, I had made sure to never get too close to SSA Hotchner. There was something about him that fascinated me…and I knew he was a good enough profiler to see it, because I wasn’t skilled enough to hide it.

This was the closest I'd ever physically been to him. I was close enough to notice that his eyes weren’t a flat shade of brown; they were a warm chocolate brown and he had freckles across the bridge of his nose.

“Y/n,” he said softly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his larger one. “It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. This is the job; we can’t save them all.”

“But I saw her,” I whispered, feeling the dam break inside of me. “I talked to her.”

Hotch must have realized I was already too far gone to hold myself together anymore. I just kept seeing her eyes, over and over and over.

He stood abruptly, pulling me up with him. He led me into the back area near the restroom. There was a small countertop here, but most importantly, there was a curtain that could be pulled closed, giving us all the privacy anyone could get on this plane.

I stared up at him in bewilderment while he closed the curtain. By the very nature of the area and given how big he was, our bodies were much closer together than I had ever allowed.

“I know you won’t break down in front of everyone else,” he said quietly. “You still feel like you have something to prove. You don’t, but I understand why you feel that way. You’re a part of this team, y/n.”

I dug my teeth into my bottom lip, holding on to the last threads of my composure.

“Now, I can leave you here and you can pull yourself together,” he continued. “Or I can stay with you.”

This was one of the reasons I hadn’t allowed myself to be near him. There was something in Hotch’s eyes when he looked at me that always made me feel so safe. He was always fierce with a scowl on his face; occasionally he’d surprise me with his dry humor.

I hadn’t known his eyes could look so soft and it pulled on something inside me.  

“I was so close I could have touched her,” I whispered. “And he…he…” I broke off as the first sob ripped out of my throat. Mary Beth was 23 years old. She had a younger brother and two loving parents. Her best friend, Anna, wore Mary Beth’s favorite necklace around her neck. None of them had given up hope.

And I had let her go home with him to die.

I had to watch when her parents got the news that we were so close, but he broke her too badly, she never cried out for help.

I closed my eyes to stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks, desperately trying to pull myself together.

My heart hurt so badly I barely reacted when Hotch’s arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him. I just buried my face against his chest while he rubbed my back. I was taking the comfort he offered, even though I didn’t deserve it. I was vaguely aware of him whispering against my hair, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying.

I failed her.

It took a few minutes for my tears to slow. I was able to bottle my pain back up again and take a few breaths. My arms were trapped between our bodies and when I went to pull them free, Hotch started to release me, no doubt assuming I wanted to end our embrace.

I didn’t.

I took a step forward when he took one back, wrapping my arms around his middle, pressing my cheek against his shirt that I just realized was damp from my tears. “Is this okay?” I whispered.

He had frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around me again. “Of course, sweet girl.”

I was just so content to be in his arms that I didn’t even process the term of endearment. “I got your shirt wet.”

“It’ll dry.”

I hummed against him, still so reluctant to let him go. “You smell nice, Hotch.”

He chuckled quietly. “Thanks. And given our current situation, you can call me Aaron.”

I nodded; my thoughts still somber. “I let her down. I let her go. I could have touched her.”

His hands kept rubbing over my back. “You’ve never let anyone down,” he murmured. “Not even for a single moment.”

--

Aaron didn’t feel like my boss when his arms were wrapped around me. He was just a man who held me for as long as I had needed before finally releasing me, offering me a small smile when I moved int the bathroom to try and fix my face.  

I don’t know what he said to each team member, but none of them paid any attention to me when I walked out. They weren’t ignoring me, they just seemed unaware of what happened, even though I knew they weren’t.

Whatever he had done, I was immensely grateful.

It was just after 10 pm when the jet touched down in Quantico.

“Go home,” Hotch said as we all grabbed our go bags. “The paperwork can wait til tomorrow.”

Rossi clapped our unit chief on the shoulder. “This one was a hard one. I know it’s painful, but we can’t save them all.”

But why couldn’t I just save her? I thought.

When we were walking off the tarmac, Morgan spoke. “Kid, lemme give you a lift home. It’s not far.”

Reid’s brows drew together in confusion. “Yes, it is. You live on the other side of town.”

"Just let me do something nice for you, smartass."

Their banter almost pulled a smile from me, but I couldn’t. Everything still felt so heavy.

“What about you, y/l/n?” JJ asked.

It wasn’t a secret that I took the train like Reid did. I’d only lived in D.C. for the four months I’d been a member of the team. Reid didn’t drive because of car crash statistics; I didn’t drive because I hadn’t gotten around to getting a car.

“The train is still running. Which is probably good,” I muttered to her. “It’ll give me time to think.”

She just nodded, giving my arm a squeeze as we all walked into the bullpen to gather the things we had left before the case.

I stayed in the bullpen longer than everyone else. It’s not that I didn’t love them, I truly did. But I just…I couldn’t be brave right now.

“I know it’s not my place, but I really don’t want you to take the train home.”

My lips pulled into a smile then, even though I couldn’t bring myself to face him. “It’s no big deal, Hotch. I’m a full-grown FBI agent. I’ll be fine taking the train home.”

“You might be,” he conceded. “But I won’t be.”

“What?” I questioned, unable to stop my body from turning towards him.

Hotch stepped closer to me, looking slightly unsure. “I…I’ll be worried.”

His words felt important, and I realized the thought of him worrying bothered me.

He heaved out a great sigh, his eyes looked so tired. “Jack’s already in bed, Jessica is staying with him tonight. Please, let me take you home.”

How could I tell him no?

--

The ride back to my apartment was quiet. Hotch seemed to know where I lived without me having to tell him. He had turned the radio on in his SUV, but the volume was so low it was just background noise.

I watched the raindrops roll down the passenger side window and all I could think about was Mary Beth. I wonder if she liked the rain.

“Don’t do that.”

My entire body froze before I turned to look at the man in the car with me. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted. “Y/n, you did all you could. This isn’t on you. We were all in that precinct. I offered her my hand when she left the station.” His hands were now gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

“Aaron,” I whispered, reaching out to put my hand on his forearm.

“If you blame yourself, you’ll have to blame me too.”

Tears started to fill my eyes again. I didn’t know what to say. “I couldn’t blame you.”

I saw his throat work as he swallowed, his eyes fixed on the building in front of us. I hadn’t even realized we had pulled into my apartment complex.  

“Then you know why I can’t let you blame yourself.” He killed the engine and took his seatbelt off.

“What are you doing?”

He looked at me in confusion, like it should be obvious. “I’m walking you to your door.”

Oh. “Why?”

Aaron paused, considering his next words. “Because I can’t leave you yet.”

He was out of the car and opening my door before my brain could even process his words. I slid out beside him, clutching my jacket around myself. It didn’t help, the chill I felt was coming from inside of my body.

Aaron pulled my go-bag from the back seat then shrugged me off when I tried to take it from him.

Despite all the emotions I was feeling, I couldn’t resist teasing him a bit. “Are you secretly a gentleman, Aaron Hotchner?”

He looked sheepish for a moment. My mean ass, always scowling FBI unit chief that intimidated almost everyone on a daily basis looked sheepish because I called him a gentleman.

“Just don’t tell anyone,” he warned, shutting the car door.

I felt a tiny smile tug up the corners of my lips. The first smile I’d felt since…

Just like that, the guilt hit me again. How could I be smiling?

We had just reached my apartment door when a tiny sob ripped out of my throat.  “Aaron…I can’t stop seeing what he did to her. She was in pain. And she-she fought back. She didn’t want to…and I can’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart don’t do that.” He dropped my go bag and wrapped his arms around me, once again offering me the comfort I didn't deserve.

The only time I had felt right in the past few days was when I was in this man’s arms. My question slipped out of my mouth before I had a chance to think better of it. “Will you stay with me?” I whispered against his chest.

I felt his body stiffen. Fuck. I pulled away from him, quickly wiping at my face. “I’m sorry, Hotch. You’ve got Jack and you’re my boss. It’s inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

My hands were shaking when I reached to pick up my go-bag from the floor.

“Y/n, it’s not that I don’t want to,” he explained, his hand grabbing mine right before I touched my bag. “It’s not Jack, he went to be hours ago. But I am your supervisor, and I can’t take advantage of you.”

His words hung in the air, feeling almost as heavy as the pain in my chest. “The only time I feel anything good is when I’m with you, Aaron.”

My eyes were fixed on his bigger hand that engulfed mine, but I felt his eyes on me.

“I don’t think I could leave you now even if I wanted to,” he mumbled.

My keys shook when I unlocked the door and once we were inside my tiny apartment, the gravity of everything finally seemed to hit me.  

"I can leave, y/n," he reminded me as if he could tell what I was thinking.

I licked my lips, looking around the room before I could look at him. “I want you to stay,” I pleaded, trying to summon every ounce of courage I had ever felt. “I know it’s not…I’m sure it breaks a million regulations and protocols. But…can you stay with me tonight? I just…I don’t want to be alone.”

What I was asking him for was so much more complicated than just spending the night at my apartment. I think we both knew that if he stayed something was going to change.

“Are you sure it’s what you want?”

I nodded, my eyes never leaving his.

--

I was sitting up in my bed, picking at the threads of my comforter when Aaron got out of the shower. He’d insisted I shower first while he went to grab his go bag and call Jack’s aunt. I felt the energy around me shift the moment he stepped into the room.  

“Are you okay?”

I bit my lip, unsure of how to answer him. "I don't know." I looked up, my eyes meeting his dark ones. "Can-can you stay with me? Just for a little while?"

For a moment I thought he might say no, but his shoulders dropped, and he jerked his head in a tight nod. “Of course.”

He came around to the right side of my bed, looking torn for a moment before I pulled the covers down, indicating I wanted him to get under. I laid my body down while he adjusted himself on to my bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in a suit,” I mused, motioning to his t-shirt with a faded FBI logo and his flannel pajama pants.

He scoffed, pulling the covers up to his abdomen. “It’s a rare occurrence.” He had settled on his back, one of his arms bent behind his head, the other one resting on his abdomen.

“Aaron,” I breathed out. “Can I…will you…I don’t want to-“

“Hey,” he said, bringing my attention back to him. “You can ask me anything, y/n.”

“Will you hold me?” I begged, my voice breaking in my effort to suppress my emotions.  

My eyes were shut tight, so I didn’t see the look of agony that washed over Aaron’s face. I only felt his body shift closer to mine before his arms came around me again, bringing me flush against his side.

At that moment, even though I felt terrible about myself, I found some solace in the fact that a man like Aaron Hotchner wouldn’t be holding me like this if I were truly a monster.

His big hand ran up and down my back while my head lay on his chest; I was taking comfort from everything about him, his smell, the feel of him holding me, even the steady beating of his heart under my ear.

I made no move to pull away from him; it was selfish, but I couldn’t let him go.

“Thank you for staying,” I whispered into the darkness. Right before I fell asleep, I think I felt his lips brush against my forehead.

--

Several hours later my eyes snapped open when my body jerked suddenly. The instant my eyes were open the nightmare was gone, I could barely remember any of it, not that I needed to. What else could it have been about?

“Hey,” a voice rasped out. “Are you okay?”

I realized I was still in Aaron’s arms. My head was still on his chest, one of his arms was wrapped around my body.

He had stayed with me.

“Yeah, I think so. Just a nightmare.”

He hummed in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Aaron’s arm tightened around me. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”

My fingers traced nonsense patterns over his chest, my mind racing. I felt so incredibly young then. I was lost in a sea of guilt and despair, and my only anchor was Aaron Hotchner.

It was easier to ask him in the darkness of my bedroom. “Do you feel this too?” I whispered.

The stillness that overtook his body indicated he knew what I meant. “Y/n…I...”

I lifted my head off of his chest, looking down at his face. “If I’m wrong, it’s okay to tell me.”

I saw those dark brown eyes scan over my face; I saw the indecision behind them. “I’ve felt it for a long time,” he said at last. “But you’re hurting, and I’m your-“

I brought a finger up to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. "Then make me not hurt. Please?" The finger I had on his lips started tracing the shape of them, over his cupid's bow, down to his fuller bottom lip.

With an amount of courage that I didn’t know I had, I pushed myself up, swinging my leg over his body. I leaned over his face bringing my lips so close to his. “Please,” I whispered against his lips. Just be with me. Be here with me, Aaron.”

I felt his self-control crumble a moment before one of his hands gripped my hip while the other slid behind the back of my head. He pulled me down until my lips were against his.

If I had allowed myself to think about kissing Aaron Hotchner before, this wouldn’t have been what I expected. His lips were gentle as the brushed against mine, his tongue wasn’t demanding when it slid against the seam of my mouth, his thumb brushed over my cheek while his tongue slicked against mine.

I was the one that broke our sweet kiss to pull my shirt from my body. Baring myself to him this way was nothing compared to how much of my soul he’d already seen. Those dark brown eyes were filled with heat when they ran over my body, his large hands felt reverent when they brushed over my skin.

He rolled us until I was on my back underneath him. Aaron kissed down the column of my throat, down over my collarbones until he reached my breasts. His mouth felt almost scalding when it covered my nipple. I arched up against him, a strangled moan tore from my throat when his blunt fingers slid into my panties.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered against my skin while he trailed wet kisses down my stomach. “Can I?” he asked when he reached the band of my sleep shorts and panties.

If I had had any doubts that I wanted Aaron Hotchner, that question would have gotten rid of them. I was begging him to take me, to make me feel anything other than the pain in my chest…and he still needed to make sure I wanted this.

I hooked my thumbs into my waistband, pulling them down while those almost black eyes ran over every inch of newly exposed skin. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I rasped out.

He reached behind his back to grab the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it off of his body. Before I could blink, he had settled between my thighs, his mouth right above where I ached for him. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

Any response I would have made was broken off by a loud groan when his tongue parted my folds. His tongue circled my clit before moving down to dip inside of me. The moan that vibrated against me when he tasted me was the sexist thing I had ever heard.

I couldn’t feel anything but him.

My fingers threaded through his hair while his mouth worked me over. It didn’t feel like this was the first time we had been together like this. He touched me like he had known me for years.

But I needed more.

“Aaron,” I whimpered, my fingers tugging on his short dark hair. His eyes snapped open, but his mouth didn’t lift from my pussy. “I need to feel you inside me. Please?”

He pressed a final kiss to my pussy before he pulled away, moving up my body. Before he settled against me, he pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs. I felt how hard he was, how much he wanted this, against my pussy while his upper body loomed over me. One of my hands pulled him down to me, crashing his mouth against mine; with the other I reached down to grab his cock, running it up and down my slit.

Aaron moaned into my mouth when I lined him up and he started to press inside of me. He gave a few swallow thrusts, allowing my body to adjust to his size before he slid all the way inside of me.

I had never had sex like this before. Sometimes in the past, it had felt like I was just loaning my body out to someone, taking whatever pleasure I got in return. This felt so different. Aaron moved against me like he needed me, his lips ran over my skin like being allowed to touch me was a gift.

He set a steady rhythm, his hips moving against mine in just the right way. He was kissing my neck, moaning my name against my skin when he brought his thumb down to my clit, massaging me while he moved against me.

“Aaron,” I breathed.

His mouth was against mine again. "I've got you, sweet girl, I've got you."

My nails dug into his back, my body arched against him, and my mouth opened in a silent scream when I flew apart underneath him. His head dropped down against my shoulder as he found his own release inside of me.

Aaron’s big body was settled on top of me, but he didn’t feel crushing, it felt safe.

When we had both started to come down from our orgasms, he rolled us against until I was on top of his body, my head on his chest. He pulled the covers over our bodies and pressed a kiss against the top of my head.

“What happens in the morning?” I whispered out.

His head turned to look at the clock on my bedside table. “It’s technically morning now.”

“You know what I mean.”

I felt him nod. “What do you want to happen?”

I lifted my head up, my eyes meeting his dark coffee-colored ones. "Will you stay with me?"

His hand raised to cradle my face again, pulling me down to press the softest, sweetest kiss against my lips. “For as long as you want.”

--

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[hops-hunny]

On Your Marks, Get Set, Go!!

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.5k

Request: @de4d-s0up“36,38,12 for Neville!❤️ fem reader and surprise me it can be fluff or smut OH OK IM EXCITED NOW😌 CONGRATS ON 300 BABES SO PROUD OF YOU<3”

Summary: (Y/n) spends so much time in Neville’s shadow that when she’s brought to the light she suffers from some massive stage fright and forgets her lines (not literally but like this sounds clever and you’ll get it soon. Just fuckin read it, yeah?

Warnings: None! A little angst but nothing too big, just majority fluff fluff fluff!

A/N: Can I just say that I love how well these flow together?? LIKE UGH YOU ALWAYS GIVE ME SOME GOOD SHIT TO WORK WITH!! This was very fun to write so tysm!

36.Admirer

38.Caught

12.“I’ve always liked you, you’ve just never noticed.”

If you were to ask (Y/n) who was the most attractive guy in the castle, she would 1000% say it was Neville Longbottom. For as long as she could remember, she was absolutely mesmerized by him and with time, he had gone from the adorable little guy she’d see in the hall into a charming young man who she could not be anywhere near. Yes he had a tendency to be a bit socially awkward sometimes but if anything, that added to his charm and if anything that made it even harder to talk to him. She didn’t want to have to face such an awkward interaction on why she was approaching him despite them not being friends nor having any classes together.

So she watched from afar, following him around the halls, sticking close to him whenever she could. It wasn’t in a creepy way however! She just found him to be beautiful and she couldn’t help herself. The more she thought about it she did sound like a stalker but that was such a strong word. And if he didn’t know of her existence could there really be any harm to what she was doing? That’s what she thought to herself as she stood behind the pillar, observing him as he conversed with his friends. Neville was currently laughing at something Dean had said as he shoved Seamus. (Y/n) couldn’t help the smile that was beginning to form at the boy’s laughter. His smile was simply contagious, a ray of sunshine indeed! She sighed to herself softly before biting the inside of her cheek.

“I wish he’d smile at me like that.” she murmured softly as to not alert them of her presence. If only she could speak, say even just one word to him. But alas, anytime she even attempted an utterance of a word her brain would short circuit and she went running the opposite way. It just wasn’t fair! She held tightly onto her books as dust fell from above her head, her (e/c) eyes growing wide as dust made its way into her nose. “O-oh no. Please, please ple-” she was cut off by the exact thing she didn’t want, a loud sneeze. She groaned, training her eyes to the ground in front of her. However if her luck wasn’t bad already a familiar pair of brown shoes stopped right in front of her. (Y/n) quickly snapped her head up looking at the boy of her affections. Neville stood in front of her, searching the pocket of vest for something until he pulled out a pale yellow handkerchief.

“You alright, love? That was some sneeze.” He said, holding out the small fabric to her as he offered her a small smile. She was stunned, Neville was talking to her. She kept her eyes locked with him with a shocked expression mouth agape. ‘Don’t just stand there!! Speak! Move! Do SOMETHING!!’. She slowly began to take small steps backwards, shaking her head ‘no’ frantically as she ran off down the hallway not even noticing she had dropped the little brown leather notebook she always kept on her. The gryfindor boy made a soft frown as he reached down, picking up the book. He flipped it open looking for a name relieved when he found a name on the inner cover. “(Y/n) (L/n), 6th year. Huh, I wonder why I’ve never seen her before?” He said to no one in particular as he walked back to Seamus and Dean who were laughing at the scene that had just played out in front of them.

“Geez Nev, we knew you were bad with women but that’s a whole new level!” Seamus choked out through laughs, reaching a freckled hand up to wipe the tears that had formed in his state of hysteria.

“Yeah seriously! What the hell did you even say?” Dean said, coming down from his laughter. Neville frowned some, shrugging his shoulders as he scratched the back of his head.

“I’ve got no clue. I saw she had sneezed and offered her my cloth and after I did that she just ran off! Is there something in my teeth? Do I smell bad?” He questioned, sniffing at his pits to check for any suspicious odor but found nothing but the smell of his body wash and deodorant. 

“No you don’t smell bad. Well no worse than usual that is.” Seamus said with a shrug. Neville rolled his eyes flicking him on the forehead with a scowl.

“You’re one to talk! Your natural scent is smoke and sweat, I don’t wanna hear it from you.” He grumbled out, shifting his eyes back to the book in his hands. The girl was clearly frightened of him, how was he supposed to get it back to her? “I just feel so bad, I don’t know what I did to make her so scared of me. I’ll wait a bit before I give it back to her.”

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

And he had done just that. (Y/n) had noticed her journal was missing but didn’t think much of it. She had a habit of losing things and assumed it would get back to her in some way and plus, it wasn’t that important. It was just filled with notes and sketches of the different mushrooms she had found on the castle grounds. Whenever she had a free period or a bit of free time on her hands, one of her favorite things to do was identify rare breeds of fungi and other various plants. And although she had missed doing that, it had only been a week and it's not like she didn’t have parchment. The only thing that was frustrating about that was that parchment and scrolls lacked the same convenience that notebooks had. (she didn’t know why Hogwarts wouldn’t just get with the times. Where were they, Camelot?)However she had faith one of her friends would bring it back to her. (Y/n) didn’t have many which is why she wondered what was taking so long for the return of her notebook.

“Hey guys, have you seen my notebook? You know the little brown one I always carry?” she asked, plopping down on the old worn down couch in the (y/h/h) common room.

“Hmm, nope! Last time I saw it you were carrying it. Why? Did you lose it?” Gwen said as she continued to read her book.

“You’re so bad with keeping track of things. You’d lose your head if it wasn’t on your shoulders.” Marco said, rolling his eyes at his friend's irresponsible behavior.

“Oh come on that was ONE time! When the potion said it’d blow your head off I didn’t think it meant quite literally!” she huffed out, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. Her eyes lit up as she was reminded of a detail. “And besides, didn’t you drink that exact potion afterwards because you wanted to know what it felt like to have no head?”

Marco was silent, whistling as he avoided eye contact with his friend before his eyes landed on a familiar lanky brunette holding a certain little book that had been missing. “Hey, isn’t that the guy you fancy? He’s got your book!” he said, pointing in the direction in which Neville was coming from. (Y/n) gasped, gathering her stuff as she muttered something about ‘being late to class’ but right as she stood up, she was yanked back down by Gwen. “Woah, not so fast track star! How are you going to get your book if you leave?”

“Y-you can give it to me! Tell him you know me. See ya!” she said standing back up but once again, she was yanked back down. “Would you quit it?!”

“No can do buckeroo. You’ve gotta get your book back somehow. Neville’s a pretty honorable guy, I highly doubt he’s gonna give your book to some people who could possibly know you. He’d wanna give it directly to you himself.” Gwen said, still not looking up from her book. (Y/n) let out a defeated sigh. She was right. Neville is the type to make sure to get back a lost item to the person themselves to avoid any chance of them not receiving it. She knew that better than anyone.

Neville wiped his free hand on his pants leg, eliminating the thin layer of sweat that had gathered on it. He was nervous to say the least. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any female friends, it was just that the female friends he did have didn’t look at him like he was you-know-who himself. Since their last meeting, he had thought about the girl a lot. He couldn’t recall seeing her before and he wasn’t the type of person people hated without any rhyme or reason so it baffled him. Someone found him intimidating? That was a new one! Neville had taken the liberty of asking his friends what he could do to be more welcoming for people but they all just seemed to laugh in his face or scoff. 

He found the question to be an absurd one for him to be asking too but for some reason, all he wanted to do was be less scary. Less scary and more approachable to the girl so maybe, maybe he could talk to the mysterious beauty who he’d never notice. That was another thing that made him quite angry. In all his years of Hogwarts, how hadn’t he noticed such a rose in its prime? Even in her frazzled state her refinement was more than apparent. She had beautiful glowing (e/c) eyes, the cutest little nose, and two beautiful petals that were more commonly known as lips. Even now as he got closer and she had that same damn look on her face, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on and he had done a lot more than just laying his eyes on girl’s.

“I-I believe this belongs to you?” He said, holding the book out in front of her. However, all the girl did was stare up at him with wide (e/c) eyes and her pretty little lips parted in horror. The girl to her right cleared her throat, nudging her not so blasé

 in her action. (Y/n) shifted to her eyes before quickly bringing them back to Neville as she closed her mouth. “Well it’s not that I believe it belongs to you, I know it’s yours. You dropped it when you ran away from me the other day.” He said looking away as he scratched the back of his head with his hand, running his fingers through his luscious locks of brown. “Now that I think about it, that doesn’t automatically make it yours. I’m sorry for assuming! You could’ve been holding onto it for a friend or or-”

“It’s hers. Thank you Neville, that was very kind of you and I’m sure (Y/n) appreciates it. Right (Y/n)?” Gwen asked, handing her the book from the boy's hands. (Y/n) just continued to stare. No movement, no indication that she did appreciate it.

“I’ve always liked you, you just never noticed.” she said softly, continuing on with her intense gaze. Her breath hitched as her eyes almost popped out of her head, both hands flying to her mouth. Not one person spoke, all her friend’s and Neville were just as shocked as she was at the announcement. “No, no, no. Fuck!” she mumbled with a great emphasis on the last word. She quickly stood up, running away making sure to not forget her book this time. 

(Y/n) continued to whip and run through the hallway, going as fast as her legs could carry her. She paid no mind to where she was going and quite frankly she didn’t care. Anywhere far away from Neville was good enough. If him catching her behind the pillar that day was the biggest embarrassment of the year, this was the biggest embarrassment of the century. How could she speak so freely, so carelessly? All those years of sneaking around, admiring him from a far were thrown down the drain. Things would never be able to go back to how they were without him noticing her there. She slid down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest as she sobbed loudly. It didn’t matter, no one came to this hallway so she didn’t have to think about what would happen if someone heard her. She sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve before glancing at the book at her side. Out of a fit of rage she picked it up, throwing it at the wall in front of her. She watched as the book fell with a thud, pages open to a random observation she had made about a spore specimen.

“I’m starting to think I’m bad luck. It appears as though anytime I’m around, you’ve got tears coming out of those pretty little eyes of yours.” Neville said softly, kneeling in front of the girl. (Y/n) brought her head up, (e/c) eyes staring into hazel ones.

���You...you think my eyes are pretty?” she questioned, tilting her head some as she sat up a bit straighter. Neville reached forward, gripping her small hand in his much larger one.

“Not just pretty, the prettiest. After I met with you that first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about them all night. Despite how horrified you looked at me, they were still the prettiest shade of (e/c) I’d ever seen.” He said, smiling softly at the girl’s flustered expression. “You know I’m a bit relieved to know that you like me.”

“R-really? Why’s that?” (Y/n) questioned, gripping his hand back as he helped pull her off the ground.

“Because, that means you don’t think of me as some scary monster! I was beginning to grow quite worried, y’know?” He said, chuckling a bit. (Y/n) gasped, smacking him on the shoulder a bit.

“Hey! I was not that bad….was I?” she asked, looking into his eyes. Neville bit his lip, looking away from her. “Oh come on! Can you blame me though? I’ve had a crush on you since we were on the train to Hogwarts for the first time. I remember I was so angry that I wasn’t the one who found Trevor for you.” she said, clinging onto his arm a bit. Neville looked a bit shocked at that revelation. Most girls didn’t pay him much attention till around 5th year, had she really liked him for that long?

“Does that mean that this,” he leaned down, pecking her on the lips before pulling away, “Was your first kiss?” He asked. (Y/n) had that same expression she had during the encounter a bit ago however this time, something was a bit different. She gripped his shirt before bringing his lips back down to hers kissing him with feverish intensity. Neville let out a small moan, gripping at her waist tightly as he pinned her against the wall causing her feet to dangle in the air.

(Y/n) was right on something, things would never be the same. But sometimes change was good. That was proven to her as Neville had his tongue down her throat.

[the-piece-of-spadille]

Eustass Kid | Sorrow

Pairing: Eustass Kid x female reader

Notes: Mentions of death, and injuries.

Word Count: 2k

Killer was the first to hear the dreadful news, he was making his way down the street to the local bar where he was to meet back up with Kid. He heard a hushed conversation between two gentlemen and at first, he thought it was just another made up rumor. There’s simply no way that the Raven Pirates were dead. Their captain, (Y/n), is apart of the Worst Generation and has proven many times over, that she’s worthy of that title not only to the government but especially to Eustass and his crew.

It wasn’t until one of the men spoke about a fight that involved two Admirals that made the Killer’s blood run cold. He remained hidden and waited for any possible truth in the conversation. The names Aokiji and Kizaru came up a few times and that was enough for Killer to grab both men and drag them to his Captain. He knew, in the pit of his stomach he knew that something happened. If any part of the rumor turns out to be true, his captain is going to want blood and so will the rest of the crew. One simply doesn’t harm Kid’s beloved. 

The Kid Pirates soon found themselves sailing off to a winter island in the New World. Kid and Killer were able to get more information from the two men at the market before Kid destroyed the town in a furious rage. There was suspicion about an informant that tipped off the location of the Raven’s to the Government. A fight had already broken out between Pirates and Marines before the Admirals made it to the island. It was an easy win for the pirates until the Admirals showed. They don’t have the details, but the fight took a gruesome turn and many pirates lost their lives. No report has been made yet by the Government, at least not publicly. Which in turn means no record of who’s alive or dead.

Kid always said that he would be the one to kill them someday. (Y/n), the captain, got under his skin like no other. They both live bold and fearless lives and often they came into contact on the seas as enemies. That was before the incident with the Red Hair Pirates. 

It was (Y/n) who managed to keep Kid alive after losing his arm. She allowed him and his crew to recover on a winter island that the Raven’s use as a second home. It was then the relationship between the two captains began to shift. She would often check on the man, get him anything he needed, and most importantly, told him not to stop chasing after what he wants most.

It became evident that previous and new threats held no real weight to them. They still fought like cats and dogs, but it was different. The crewmates on either side saw what was forming between them and knew it was going to be a long road ahead before either side could truly rest. It turned into a long and agonizing game of who would fall victim to their feelings first. 

Ultimately (Y/n) was the first to fall, she grew tired of all the pent-up emotions and grabbed Kid by his signature coat and pulled him down to her height and kissed him. It stroked Kid’s ever-growing ego that he did not give in first and he paraded around the island as if he found the One Piece for weeks. With the warm memory in thought, he breaths a heavy sigh as he watches the passing sea. “You’re fine… you have to be.”

Starring out at the vast number of graves of the fallen crewmember, (Y/n) stood in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s been a total of three days since the lost of her crew. All but two members perished by the hands of the Admirals. It took two days to make it to their island and another to bury and lay them to rest, but she promised them she’d bring them back home.  “Please Captain (Y/n.) You need to warm up and rest. It won’t do you any good if you freeze to death out there” the voice yelled across the field of snow. Instantly whipping her head around, glaring at the last remaining crewmate.  

The words “freeze to death” played over and over in the captain’s head. That’s exactly what Aokiji did. He froze them to death while Kizaru pinned (Y/n) to the ground and made her watch as the other shattered her crewmates into pieces. Tears roll down her redden checks as she looks over at the graves for the last time tonight and whispers a “goodnight.” 

(Y/n) makes the slow tread back towards the warmth of the building. The injuries and cold catching up to her. “Sorry about the choice of words Captain, you need to rest. You’re heavily injured and you shouldn’t be out in that storm in your condition.” Avisa, the youngest and newest member of the crew being only eighteen, covers her captain with her own coat and holds the door open. Avisa was incredibly lucky to be mostly unharmed after what they went through. “We should probably change your bandages and disinfect them again… has your eyesight changed?”

(Y/n) groans from shifting the coat open and revealing the endless bandages wrapped around her body. “It’s… it’s as good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid. I lost about half the sight in my left eye.” The young girl shifts around, grabbing more bandages and disinfectant before settling in front of the captain and unpeeling the dirty bandages from the wounds earning a whimper of pain.

“Wait, before you start with the disinfecting, I could use a drink.” 

“Sure thing Captain, I’ll go fetch you some water.” Just as the girl began to move a loud boisterous laughter bounces around the walls of the otherwise quiet room. The two women jump from their seated positions at the voice of a man. “She means booze girlie” the voice snickers. (Y/n) pushes the girl behind her and does her best to seem threating but it’s proving to be hard in her state. This nearly makes the man laugh again but he gets a glance at the wounds scattered across her body. 

The outside lighting does little to show who’s at the door and it wasn’t until the man spoke again that (Y/n) recognized who was there. “Take it easy doll” Kid spoke, hand in the air stepping inside. “Kid” her voice wavers. Taking a few steps towards him but stops and clutches her side in pain. His smile falters as he crosses the room to grab her and keep her upright. 

He’s familiar with the layout and takes her to a bed in the closest bedroom. “Sit before you bleed all over the floor.” He walks out the room to motions for the rest of his crew to come inside. Killer follows his captain back into the bedroom to inspect (Y/n’s) wounds. Avisa, with a bottle of opened booze sitting on the table, had already unwrapped her wounds and had proceeded to disinfect her wounds.

There’s deep bruising along her ribs on the right, followed by three holes no doubt left by Kizaru, scatter over her torso. The worse being on her left shoulder. Kid grabs the bottle on the table and takes a generous swing before offering her more. “I did my best to stitch the wounds with what we had, I’m pretty sure her ribs are broken. She was…” the young girl had to stop keep herself from crying. Killer, as gentle as he could muster, touched the swollen and bruised area earning a sharp intake of air followed by a cry of pain. 

“I’d say three are broken and the rest are just bruised. What did you use for stitches? I see a few places that need to be touched up.” The masked man turns away from (Y/n) to talk to Avisa. “Horsehair. There’s a small ranch not too far from here.” He nods in thought, “we’re going to need more.” The pair leave the room to go retrieve more supplies and to fill in the rest of Kid’s crew on her condition.

Kid looks around for something to cover her body and he spots (Y/n’s) coat, or rather what’s left of it. It was a beautiful thick, long coat, jet black in color, and made of raven feathers, now it’s barely recognizable. It’s a lot smaller in length now from being ripped. More feathers decorate the floor than the actual fabric. It also mirrors the holes littered in (Y/n). It was a gift to her from him. “Say something please.” 

Kid looks over with an unreadable expression and shrugs off his coat and walks over. His hand traces over the new scars and wounds that littered across her. He pays extra care to the open wounds before his amber eyes meet hers. He brushes the hair out of her face to get a better look. Half of her left eye is clouded over with a faint scar to go with it. He knows now isn’t the time to get angry, but all he wants to do is tear the bastards heads off for hurting her. He can’t even begin to imagine what it feels like to lose her crew on top of everything. 

He takes a deep breath, something she has told him numerous times to do, and thinks back to what she said to him when he was in a similar situation. “It uh… adds character.” (Y/n) laughs until she feels the pain in her ribs. Kid scowls at her before dropping himself on the bed and his coat on her to cover her up. “Thank you for trying to cheer me up.” He makes a “tsk” sound before telling her to shut up. She grabs his hand and plays with his fingers to calm her nerves. “It was planned.” 

“What?” 

“It was Scratchmen Apoo who told the Admirals where we were headed. Had to be. He was trailing us for a couple days and when the Marines spotted us, they let him go.” A stray tear falls down her cheek before she can wipe it away. “We we’re cornered into an island, so we abandoned ship for the time being and fought. We were fine until those bastards showed. They started to take us down one by one. Kizaru trapped me underneath him and held me in place. Made me watch.” Kid wiped away her flowing tears and placed a long kiss to her hair. He’s never wanted to hurt someone so bad in his entire life. Forcing her to watch. “It was Avisa who saved me. And to think I almost didn’t let her join… she shot them with sea stone bullets.”

The anger rolling from Eustass can probably be felt in the next room. He recently formed an alliance with Apoo and was already having his own issues with the man. This is the final piece straw that broke the camels back. Kid knows he can’t be trusted, and he need to be brought to an end. “I’ll make them all pay!” 

Kid jumps up ready to storm out and take his frustrations out on whatever he can get ahold of but (Y/n) speaks up just as he’s at the door frame. “I want to be apart of taking them down. I need to. For the sake of my crew.” Kid turns around and stomps into your direction and places a heated kiss on your lips. 

“Hurry up and get better, because your sailing with me.”  

[mammonshuman92]

- Homecoming -

(Keishin x F! Reader)

Genre: Angst to fluff

TW: none

The past is a fickle thing.

Sometimes memories of days long gone are wonderful. Bringing a certain warmth to your heart. Filling you with a sense of peace and even love.

And sometimes, those memories are anything but that.

They claw their way to the surface, from the pit you tried so hard to bury them in. Wreaking havoc the whole way, pulling at your heart strings and playing games with your mind.

But for him, those memories are both.

The same ones he wants to bury, that give him nightmares at least once a week, are the same memories he holds closest to his heart, never wanting to forget a single detail.

It's been years, but the memories of you excite him and fill him with warmth, just as much as they tear him apart. Leaving him feeling empty.

It's almost as if he mourns your death, although you're very much alive. With how abruptly everything happened, and how quickly you had to leave, he sort of does mourn for you.

But, life goes on right?

He works at the shop, helping his mom. He coaches the volleyball team now. And he plays with the Karasuno Neighborhood Association team, too. He stays pretty busy most of the time.

Even still, you're there in his mind.

"You're... leaving?"

After you told him the news, he went blank. Time seemed to stop. He couldn't believe it.

You were moving back to America.

Your family moved to Japan the summer before fourth grade, after your father received an amazing job offer he couldn't refuse. When school began, Keishin was the first friend you made. After that, the two of you had always been inseparable.

School was set to start in just a few weeks, the two of you going into your first year of high school. Except now, he'd be attending the school you both wanted to go to by himself..

"Keishin?"

The sight of you, voice breaking, tears threatening to spill over, was almost more than he could take. He had to steel himself if he was going to make it through this.

"Hey, it's alright. Don't cry, okay? It's not like you're gonna be gone forever right? It's just temporary until your folks can get things settled in the US, then you'll be back." His voice was calm and soothing.

The company your father worked for was opening a new office in the US, and wanted him to lead the project. It was a big deal and a great opportunity for your family. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

You nodded and rubbed your eyes with your sleeve, sniffling. You quickly threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

He put his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. He tried as hard as he could to memorize everything. The smell of your hair, the way you were embracing him. How the delicate gold necklace he gave you with his name on it looked against your beautiful skin; the way you fit perfectly in his arms. He wanted to remember everything.

Deep down he knew that this was it. You wouldn't be coming back.

He blinked a few times upon opening his eyes. He looked over at the clock on the night stand, the bright glow of the numbers read '2:13 am'.

He groaned and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. This was the second time this week his last memory with you had awakened him. It's been years since that day, but it haunts him just the same.

"Get over yourself, idiot. She's probably married with kids now. Besides, she probably doesn't even remember you.." He whispered to himself sourly.

At the time, he didn't think that'd be one of the last times he'd ever talk to you. The time difference between Japan and the US is substantial, not to mention the charges. you were able to talk a couple times, but ended up losing contact. You were starting a whole new life and he was trying to pick up the pieces of his. He didn't push the issue either. More than anything, he just wanted you to be happy.

With a heavy sigh, he rolled onto his side, pulling the blankets over his head. Trying to think of something else. Anything else. It was always hard to fall back asleep after the memory of you invaded his mind.

-

"You look like shit."

Keishin looked up to see Takinoue Yūsuke, his friend and teammate, both former and current, standing on the other side of the counter, looking at him.

"Can I help you?" He asked, ignoring his friend's statement, continuing to read his newspaper.

"We still on for the scrimmage match tomorrow?"

The Neighborhood Association team was set to play against the Karasuno boys team, to help them get in as many practice matches as they could.

"Yep. Still going out for drinks afterward?" Keishin asked.

"Of course." Takinoue laughed slightly, then cleared his throat.

"It's been over a decade, man. It's still waking you up?" His friend asked quietly.

Keishin sighed and put the paper down. He picked up his pack of cigarettes and lit one, choosing to ignore his friend.

"I remember how bad it messed you up, when she left." He said quietly, glancing at his friend trying to gauge his reaction. You had always been a touchy subject, no matter how much time had passed.

Keishin stood up, got the broom and started sweeping. Anything to try and get away from the conversation, but Takinoue just followed him around the store.

"It's been so long, man. Have you thought about moving on?"

He was barely sixteen when you left. So, of course he'd dated other people. They could just never compare to you.

"I've dated." He replied, as he continued to sweep. He really didn't want to have this conversation right now. Or at all, for that matter.

"If you could call it that." Takinoue whispered to himself.

"Look, all I'm saying is try, ok? Or at least think about it?"

Keishin stopped sweeping and turned to look at his freind with a questioning look.

"Why the sudden interest in my love life?" He asked him.

"You mean the lack thereof?" The man teased, making Keishin roll his eyes.

"Your mom talked to my mom about how she's super worried that you"ll never get married and you're almost thirty, and my mom convinced me to talk to you."

"Hey! I have a few more years before I turn thirty!" Keishin shot back, causing his friend to laugh. That would be the part he was most concerned about.

"You don't have a girlfriend either." Keishin shot back.

"Yeah, but this isn't about me." He chuckled. "Well anyway, I'll tell her I talked to you. Think about it though?"

"Yeah, yeah." He agreed, waving his hand around.

After a few more minutes, Takinoue left, leaving Keishin alone with his thoughts again.

He wasn't really interested in dating, honestly. He'd pretty much given up on it. He didn't want to spend his life alone, but he was sure he wouldn't find anyone like you.

The two of you only got to date for a few months before you moved, but that's not what always kept him hung up on you.

You'd been best friends for such a long time. You grew up together. Hell, even your parents became friends. You knew everything about him, because you had practically been there for it all. You understood him better than anyone else ever could. He never really had to say much to you, or explain anything, you kind of just knew. Like you could read his mind. You never complained about always playing volleyball, and helped out at his family's store during summer vacation.

As sappy as it is, the two of you fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Filling in the spots the other was missing and working together to make the end picture beautiful.

There would never be anyone else like you for him, and he knew that.

After he graduated, there were so many times he thought of going to America, hoping that he'd be able to reconnect with you, but gave up on the idea. What if you didn't want to see him? What is you didn't even remember him? As amazing of a person as you were, he knew that you were living a good life, and were most likely seeing someone and he didn't want to intrude.

Keishin plopped down into the chair behind the counter, and lit another cigarette. It was almost time to head over to the high school for volleyball practice. He couldn't wait for something, anything, to take up his attention and stop the current depressing state of his thoughts.

-

It had been a couple weeks since his conversation that day with Takinoue, but he hadn't really given it much thought since then. He didn't have the time. The team was going to Tokyo soon, and they were getting in as much practice as they could. They had one more match set up with the Neighborhood Association team, before their trip. His busier than usual schedule was helping to keep him out of his own head, thankfully.

Before volleyball practice, he made a quick stop at the market to see Shimada, to talk about the upcoming match with the association team.

"Yeah, I'll for sure be there. I also want to get in at least one more practice session with Tadashi before you guys leave for Tokyo. He's making great progress."

"I can tell he's really improved." Keishin agreed.

"Oh, before I forget. I know you don't like talking about it, but I'm pretty sure I saw Y/N a few days ago." He said, carefully watching his friend, trying to gauge his reaction.

Hearing your name caused him to tense, a lump forming in his throat.

"It was probably someone that just looked like her." He finally managed to say.

"Hmm, maybe. But I was almost positive it was Y/N."

"It's been a long time. I'm sure she doesn't look exactly the same." Keishin said. How many times had he sworn he saw you in a crowd?

He quickly ended his conversation with Shimada and left. He didn't want to talk about it anymore.

He sighed to himself and made his way to practice.

As soon as he walked inside the gym, Tanaka and Nishinoya bombarded him with a string of questions.

"Who is she?"

"She's so pretty!"

"Why'd you keep her a secret, huh?!"

Keishin glared at the two boys. "What are you going on about now?"

"Your girlfriend! Why didn't you tell us about her?" Tanaka demanded.

"Yeah! She's like, an actual goddess. How did you land her??" Noya interrogated.

"What? I don't have a girlfriend." He explained.

The two boys tilted their heads to the side like a puupy.

"Oh. Well, there was a solid 12/10 here looking for you earlier." Tanaka explained.

"Huh?" Who could be looking for him?

"It was probably someone looking for information on how to make a donation to the team or something." He quickly explained, shutting the boys down.

Still, he couldn't shake this feeling he had.

-

The next morning at the store, as he was knelt down stocking shelves, the bell above the door chimed, alerting him of a customer. He called out his usual greeting, but the response he received all but stopped his heart.

"You're a hard man to find."

Is that..? It can't be.. He thought.

That voice.

It sounded like music. Sweet like honey.

His heart was racing, his hands getting clammy. He swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

There's no way..

He stood up slowly and turned around. His eyes as big as saucers when they fell on you. Was he actually asleep right now, having the dream. This couldn't actually be happening..

You took a step forward and smiled. The same smile that was forever etched in his mind.

"Hi, Keishin. Long time no see."

"Y/N..?"

*PART TWO COMING SOON*

[smashboxgirl26]

vengeance / chapter 13: a new face

chapter 12: catching | chapter 14: apologies

vengeance masterlist

Bakugou’s mind rushed over the details that the Commissioner had mentioned the day before. The main issue was that the League was still active - despite them being imprisoned for over five years at that point. How they were still active was the question. And the only theory at the moment was that there was someone from the LOV who hadn’t been captured in the final battles - someone who’d been working on the sidelines enough that they were able to escape from prosecution easily.

That meant that they were probably very dangerous, and that was enough to send Bakugou back into his office to stare out the window again to calm his breathing.

The pit of anxiety in his stomach had been growing, a lot more now, and had been since you’d mentioned to him that you’d met Midoriya. He’d almost thought that his breaking point had been when he’d stepped into Ito’s room and saw those pictures of you everywhere, but it wasn’t.

It was the fact that he couldn’t work on the Ito case.

But it was that and every other single fucking thing that was piling up in his life. It seemed like his usual ranges of anger couldn’t solve these problems as easily as they usually did, and that was incredibly mentally taxing on him - trying to keep up with everything in the whirlwind that currently was his mind.

He hadn’t felt this way since high school - and the many thoughts that came with those feelings were threatening to flood back in as well.

Work.

Shut up and focus on the work.

Deal with the other shit later.

Y/N.

Work for her.

Becoming the Number One Hero.

Don’t lose sight of yourself and drown in the process.

It didn’t work as well as he thought it would, but Bakugou sat down on his desk chair to start on the case nevertheless.

He’d been emailed some of the details of the case when the Commissioner announced to the police that he’d be working on it with them. It wasn’t the highly classified details - of course - but more so an overview of the case as well as the starting point for him to grasp what the situation exactly was.

______

League of Villains: OVERVIEW

March 23, 2221; 8:09 AM

The criminals that were once banded together in the name of the “League of Villains”, LOV for short, together have had many incidents in recent times of their incarceration. Most are in reference to each other, or previous attacks, which leads the prison guards and employees to believe that this is all the form of something that they all collectively understand.

By incidents, it is implied that attacks have been frequent by the LOV alumnus: all of them have related to others; this has been confirmed by either their methods of attack, or what they have said to officers on the scene about the attack

No prisoners have currently escaped through these endeavors, however both prisoners and prison staff have been wounded. A majority of these injuries have been minor, coming in the form of minor scratches, bruises, and other small inflictions. No deaths have been recorded, but the severity of the wounds is increasing.

The resulting actions of the incidents described above were taken solely by the prison staff themselves with a slight oversight of the police: increased security staff around all LOV prisoners - whether they have made an attempt or not - along with solitary for those who did make an attempt.

Interviews have not yet been held, due to the fact that it is too dangerous for most of the prisoners to be taken out of their cells without the proper amount of protection for the questioner (as more guards have been allocated to watch all the LOV prisoners), meaning that more support is needed in order to properly question them

______

Bakugou was holding his breath the entire time. The more he read, the more he was convinced that there was, in fact, something going on beneath the surface and that the police and prison staff were one-hundred percent correct about their assumptions.

When they’d first been arrested, they’d definitely fought their incarcerations and made attempts to escape. But they’d mellowed out after a while, and even if they were in there for life, their sentences would be more bearable if they played along with the rules that were laid out before them.

But for them to start causing messes now? After five years of mostly good behavior?

It didn’t make sense to Bakugou, unless the theory was correct.

Whether the Director knew all the details was unknown, but that meant that his opinion was completely wrong about the whole situation, and that he was only trying to sweep it under the rug with Bakugou in charge of the investigation.

That fact was burning in Bakugou’s mind as he glanced away from his screen to stare up at the ceiling while running his fingers through his hair. He needed to start working on this investigation quickly, or the Director would try and sweep the whole thing under the rug and there would be no funding allocated towards it.

Bakugou let out a sigh before glancing down to the bottom of the email, and finding the number to the precinct that was heading up the entire investigation and the name of the lead investigator.

…

Bakugou stepped into the low-ceiling, dimly lit room with higher expectations for the precinct that was heading up one of the most important cases containing the League of Villains. But it actually made sense that a dingy precinct was chosen instead of one that had more resources available to them; it was because the Director didn’t want the investigation to go anywhere. Well unfortunately for him, he’d assigned Katsuki to the case, and he wasn’t one to let things go with nothing.

Most of the officers were lounging around in their chairs with a coffee or donut in hand, scrolling on their phones or mindlessly typing something up on their computer. He even thought he saw one watching porn in the far corner of the room.

He grimaced at the sight, but took a few more steps forward to the front desk where he looked over the counter at the secretary who was currently busy on his phone.

“Uhm, excuse me,” Bakugou grumbled out.

“Hmm?” the secretary looked up halfheartedly, taking a small glance before doubling back at Bakugou with wide eyes and standing up from his chair.

“D-Dynamight. I mean, ahem, Mr. Dynamight,” he said loud enough for the other officers to hear.

Bakugou watched as they all scrambled about in their spots and immediately went to typing on their computers with haste as they gave him the side-eye. Bakugou rolled his eyes before turning back to the almost quivering secretary with annoyance, most of it having to do with how the precinct was running.

“We weren’t e-expecting you here till tomorrow, Sir,” the secretary managed out under Bakugou’s scrutinizing glare. “Detective Masaki’s been busy trying to get the base information but-”

“I know that already,” Bakugou spat in response. “It was all in the long ass email he sent me. Tell him to come out of his office so we can discuss the case in person.”

The secretary’s eyes narrowed slightly as they tilted their head and gave Bakugou a confused look, “Sir, I’m not sure of you’re aware but Detective Masaki is-”

“Haruma, it’s okay,” a female voice interrupted from the side, and Bakugou looked up from the desk in front of him to meet the face of the voice who was walking up to the desk from the back.

“Mr. Dynamite, the name’s Detective Masaki. I’ll be working on the League of Villains case with you,” the lady said, sticking her hand out for Bakugou to shake.

Bakugou didn’t even look surprised at the fact that the detective he was working with was actually a woman. He was more focused on the fact that she was much more professional than the other extras who just seemed to be there to hang around.

At least one person in this god forsaken place actually gives a fuck about their job.

“You too,” he said simply before reaching out to shake her hand firmly.

He took the opportunity to observe her features under his heavy glare. She was tall and slender, with a bronzed complexion that matched her wide golden brown eyes. Strands of curly hair were sticking out of the bun she’d pinned to the back of her head, and that was one of his many indicators that she wasn’t, in fact, Japanese.

“Let’s go talk in my office,” she gestured behind her, before walking in front of Bakugou to lead him to the area it was located.

She held the door open for him, and he noticed as she carefully locked the door behind them and checked out of its windows quickly before pulling up blind. Once she’d finally sat herself in her chair on the other side of the desk, Bakugou observed her stoic expression before opening his mouth to speak.

“You’re not Japanese.”

She gave an amused smile, “I’m half Japanese, but I think that was obvious enough from my appearance. I’m from America, actually. But it’s nice to finally meet you Mr. Dynamight.”

“Call me Bakugou,” he grunted back. “It seems like we’ll be working together for a while so honorifcs aren’t really necessary.”

“Then you could call me Kana instead of my last name. If you remember, we go by first names in America.”

“I fuckin’ knew that,” he replied boredly.

“Right..” she replied.

The air between them was awkward, to say the least. They clearly were both headstrong people who wouldn’t take opinions from others. It was going to be an exhausting investigation.

“Well then, let’s get down to it,” Kana said as she crossed her hands together over the table. “I’m actually glad you came today, it means we have more time before the Director decides to pull the plug.”

“So you know about his stupid plan too then, right?” Bakugou asked as he leaned back in his chair. “He doesn’t want the investigation to go anywhere.”

“I think it was made pretty obvious when he decided to assign the case here, of all places,” Kana replied with a chuckle. “But even then, I think he forgot I was assigned here.”

Bakugou had been taking the time to observe his surroundings, and even though it was littered with coffee cups, papers, and files, he noticed the couple of plaques that hung on the wall at the back.

High honors, commended leadership, outstanding excellence…

“What the hell are you doing in a dingy place like this? As far as I can tell none of the fuckers outside have actually put effort into their jobs,” Bakugou asked with an eyebrow raised.

“I was demoted,” Kana sighed. “The Commission’s Director thought I was sniffing around in his business more than I needed to so he dumped me here. I went from being one of the best detectives in Japan to being forgotten.”

“That sucks balls.”

“Yeah,” she huffed a breath out of her nose. “But anyways, that doesn’t matter right now. You’ve read the email, right?”

“Obviously,” Bakugou rolled his eyes.

“So then it’s obvious that the next step would be to start the interviews with the villains. We weren’t able to do them before because we needed more oversight and there wasn’t enough protection to keep the prisoners secure. But now that you’re here it’ll be a lot easier.”

“I don’t think we should start with their interviews first,” Bakugou thought out loud. “It’s not like they’ll give up any information willingly, and we don’t know if the security of the prison would let us see them more than one time if they don’t give us anything useful the first time.”

“What do you suggest then?” Kana asked with an eyebrow raised and skepticism in her voice.

Bakugou at least understood where it was coming from though - this was her area of expertise. He was someone who was not really involved in these types of cases, or at least he wasn’t up until now.

“I’d say we start with the prison and security staff. You haven’t had proper interviews with them yet, right?” Bakugou stared off in thought.

“No,” Kana shook her head. “The only thing we’ve gotten so far are the files they gave us in order to request increasing the security around the villains and to put the ones who were attempting to escape in solitary. There were some basic facts in there but there wasn’t anything specific written down - just the whole thing about them acting weird and how they were talking about something going on outside of the prison.”

“Then I’d say that’s our place to start. If we have those interviews on record then we can use them to help keep the villains from lying to us, since they couldn’t deny anything that was previously said to the prison staff,” Bakugou affirmed with a nod.

“Fine then,” Kana replied with a huff. “I’ll arrange for us to start the interviews tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou replied tiredly.

He’d rather be working with Kirishima, and Monoma (of all people) on your case than work with this Kana bitch.

…

You waved at Camie as she drove down the street, leaving you on the steps in front of your apartment. The smile you’d plastered on faded, and you felt as your face settled into a hard frown.

It’d been hard trying to keep yourself smiley and peppy all day, and now that you were finally alone it came out easier than you’d expected. Staring blankly at the road seemed to take the edge of your emotions out of your head for a second, and because they’d been running rampant in your head since the previous night it felt like a break.

But that meant the return to reality was much, much worse.

There was some creepy guy who’d been stalking you, which became public knowledge, and Camie had informed you that your boyfriend, the person who was supposed to trust you more than anyone else in the world, had been hiding his emotions from you.

And now that you were thinking about it, it hadn’t even started because of the whole stalker case where Katsuki felt he needed to “protect” you by trying to keep you from the truth of his feelings. The first time you’d noticed it was when you mentioned meeting Izuku, but who knew how long he’d been hiding himself before that!

The pressure of your thoughts manifested itself into a headache, and you could no longer bear standing outside under the sun - even if it helped calm your nerves a little with the light breeze that’d started up - so you headed inside with a huff.

The day had been a weird one.

You constantly felt like you were being watched, only to turn your shoulder and see that there was no one there. And with you being so hyperactive with your surroundings and still not noticing anything abnormal, you were just beginning to think you were paranoid or going insane. But who could blame you, how else were you supposed to handle the news of being stalked?

You closed the door behind you silently, double checking that you’d locked it before finally sauntering off to the kitchen to grab something to eat. All the worrying was making you feel sick and you’d lost your appetite long ago, but you hadn’t eaten since morning and you needed something before you could take a pill to appease the throbbing headache that made the anxiety infinitely worse.

After finally settling yourself down, you plopped yourself onto the couch with the intention of watching some random movie to get your mind off of everything that was swirling around. But a notification from your email stopped you in your tracks before you could even grab the remote.

And when you opened it and read its contents, your heart almost stopped.

The Tokyo University Medical School regrets to inform you that your scholarship has been revoked.

──────────────

sorry this one took some time loll, but idk if it'll get much better since school's starting soon

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[caesthetix]

REMAINING TIME

↪Bertolt Hoover one-shot

↪content; slight gore, major character death, canon universe, established relationship

One day, I promise that I will bring you home with me.

There was a flicker of memory. From all the times you remembered that night, it had to be now. It felt like such a long time ago even though roughly four month just passed after the confession and promises that were shared between you. You really missed it, the feeling of security every time he was close to you.

When your days just filled with you complaining about the bland food, when your ears filled with your comrade's laughter that was ringing within the mess hall, when every night made you feel so giddy since you would talk with a certain tall, lovely, dark-haired man.

You were sure that he would go to the Military Police, along with Annie, someone that you often saw his eyes rested on to.

I will be known as a hero, a warrior that fulfilled his duty.

But that time after the top cadet was called (and of course he was one of the top ten, with how good of a soldier he was), he called out to you, saying that he would follow you to anywhere you go, without any stutter, without any red hue covering his cheeks. 

It took you by surprise, all the words that rolled from his tongue. You were the one who usually walked toward him, dragging him around to get some alone time and just rambling about life, you would often gossip about some of your comrades as he was all ears, ready to listen to your theory and spicy jokes.

You remembered how different he was on that last night in the training corps. His hand gently wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to your usual rendezvous place. It was not too far from the barracks, but far enough that no one could hear what was being shared while you were alone with him. 

His smile that was usually timid could not be seen anywhere as he sat on your left side right after you sat. You wanted to ask and perhaps teased him how he was so assertive today. But as he turned to look at your face, with a confident smile and brown orbs gazing at you as if he was seeing stars, you couldn’t push a word to the air around you.

And, and you will be there. 

You were snapped back to present time as you could feel their tug on each of your limbs, locked by their arms, securing you from doing anything reckless. There was no point for your friends to do that though, you couldn't even move a muscle, let alone trying to run to a man who was now too — immobilised under the bright sunlight.

This was not the last memory of him that you wanted to remember. Not something gruesome like this even when everyone would agree that he deserved this kind of death. You were the only one who wanted him to die without pain. Or at least, you were the only one who dared enough to show your real emotion.

You tried to cloud yourself with the memories that you used to share in the past. Particularly, that night when he took your hand to his lap, warm hands engulfed yours on a chilly night. You reconstruct every little detail, refusing to acknowledge his condition in this moment to be the last state of him.

Your mind gave you a vision of how his soft dark locks swayed by the wind, you brought back his voice on your ear as he made a promise with fiery passion dancing in his brown beads, and you felt it again in your forehead too — the softness of his lips as it lingered on your skin for a few seconds that made you feel like you have spent a lifetime with him.

At first I just want to go home, but now,

That color, that hair, your pupils widened when you saw a titan that was too alike to one of your closest friends. It couldn’t be him, that titan couldn’t be Armin. When Jean pulled you away from Bertolt’s body before, you were certain that Captain Levi would inject the titan’s fluid to Commander Erwin.

A bitter laugh slipped from your mouth. 

Wasn't this becoming a lot more tragic now?

Blonde, familiar blonde hair started to crawl toward his numb bodies. And now you couldn’t think of anything but the pain that would ensue next if only he was conscious. That was not fair, you think. What if he woke up all of a sudden, what if he could feel his head crushed in between those gigantic teeth. Your comrades would think he deserved it. 

No, no. There must be more to the story, you didn't want to believe it, he wouldn't do all of that if he didn't have to.

Now my dream grew.

You swallowed a huge lump as every second passed felt like forever. Armin was so close, and you could do nothing but stay still as you would see your friend eat the man that had your heart since day one you started a conversation with him.

From a sheepish smile and cheeks adorned with pinkish tint on his cheek, how softspoken he was and the caring tone that he had every time he talked to his comrades, to the shine inside his eyes as he talked on and on about how he would come back home one day.

You loved everything that was in the form of Bertolt Hoover.

And it never stopped, even now as you knew that he was a traitor, the one who brought sorrow to everyone inside the wall.

But you didn’t care at this point, since you were certain that whatever he felt, whatever affection he used to give — it was all real. 

Please don't wake up, please don't wake up. You could only pray. When those hands snatched his weak body from the rooftop, when the jaw was now wide open as it was ready to devour him like marbled meat, you could only pray that he would keep his eyes shut.

Now my dream consists of you; to be with you as I come back to my homeland.

But brown just decided to meet your eyes.

The grip on your limbs tightened as you let out a pained gasp, heart pounding in your chest as if it would explode at any moment. He smiled, for god sake he smiled. There was relief all over his face when he saw you, when his eyes wandered to everyone.

You wanted to rip off your ear, but with the way your limbs were restrained, you couldn’t do anything to numb your senses.

His scream as he called out to your friends, it was so pure, filled with relief. Somehow deep inside his twisted mind, he thought that he would be saved. Him calling out your name, brown orbs glimmered with pure joy and affection, he was so happy to see your face again. 

But the look on his face slowly changed into a morbid one as he realised that neither you nor the others would free him from the death grasp.

Realisation dawned upon him.

He was alone. He was alone now.

Reiner wouldn't save him, his comrades were far gone, retreating to perhaps the homeland that he always wanted to take you to. Annie was still inside her crystal, avoiding either questions or torture from people in Paradis, saving herself until the time would come when she could meet his father again.

And you, with your limbs locked by Connie and Jean, you could only watch as someone that once promised his heart to you, now paying the sin that he was forced to make. Head slowly rested inbetween wide, pristine teeth, one that belonged to a friend that he had to burn before just so he could come back to his homeland without being afraid of being mistreated anymore.

“Let him go.”

It was Jean, you knew him, he was always good when it came to comforting and giving you some assurance here and there. The words that he said could usually ease you within seconds. Though, right now it didn’t give you any kind of impact, not even a slightest.

You were still trying to free your limbs from their grasps, squirming around as you wanted to do something, anything. Maybe you could give him one last hug, one last kiss. He never tasted your lips and you wanted him to know, to feel as two souls mould into one from a simple contact. He was not conscious before when you captured his lips as you said your final goodbye. 

Before Jean took you away, before Captain Levi shouted out to all of you that he would let Commander Erwin ate the incapacitated soldier. No, warrior.

Still. Tears once again, cascading down your cheek as you wanted to save him, a traitor.

“Let him go, he deserve—”

“No he’s not!” You screamed, though your eyes never left him as his lips now shaped into a soft smile. “You don’t know about it, Jean! What if he was forced?!”

It was no use, there was nothing else that you could do. There were no words that could redeem his crime, and you knew it. As the victim of him and his comrades, you knew it. No one would change their mind. Hell, even though they were, it was not possible to save him as those wide teeth started closing in.

Funny how life works in this universe, how it was so easy to take one life over and over. Sometimes, sometimes it was becoming a task that had to be done, just so they could survive and see another day. Just so he could live, and feeling the blessing of how it feels to be born in this world.

But this time as his brown eyes peered at you, at the last millisecond of his life, he knew that he couldn't bide time anymore, that the devil had now finally pulled him to the deepest pit of hell, demanding payment. There was no tomorrow or even later for him, this last second was the only time for him to take a good look at you.

Maybe it was enough, the past few years was enough for him to know how it feels to live a possibly normal life. As a soldier, as a teenager who learned new things about life, about how turns out this island was not filled with devils.

He got his chance to live as if there was no soul waiting for him in the afterlife to see him suffer for all the blood in his hands that he was responsible to. He got his chance to live without being haunted that he was not worth living in this world for being born as an Eldian.

And from all, he got his chance to live as a normal human, to be in love, to be loved by another human being. By you, an angel that perhaps forgot their place, an angel that spread their wings in hell, just to fall for someone like him. 

You were someone that once made a promise to him on that same night, someone who would love him still despite someday a certain condition would reveal that he was not just a mere soldier. That he was not like what he always said to everyone.

As his eyes locked with yours at this time, he knew that you were the same person, and he knew too from the emotion inside your eyes — he could see that you fulfilled that promise of yours to keep loving him.

Despite all things, despite the remembrance of how he was one of the people who were responsible for the terror that kept lingering in your life.

You were still there, beautiful eyes locked with his with nothing but love, accompanying him to get through the agonizing remaining time of his life.

To assure him that your heart belonged to him, until the last beat of his heart.

And now as you watched how he would be forever out of reach, how the torso that you used to hug as you seek warm was now torn apart, how his hair that you used to run your hand into was now covered with red — you could only wish and pray inside your heart as you screamed in anguish.

That perhaps someday, he would be the one who fulfils his promise to you. Even though that means it was not in this life.

And you hoped, you really hoped, that everything would be so much better then.

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