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starships-barships · 3 years ago

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Unseen| Chapter Five

(Josh x Fem!Reader/Plus size reader)

<-chapter four

Word Count: 5548

**Warnings-Minors DNI- Mentions of insecurities and anxiety, negative self talk & language, sexual implications, sexual content If I am missing any please let me know.**

Authors note: I do not know Josh, Jake, Sam, or Danny personally. This is purely a work of fiction. Reader is plus size and figuring herself out- tiptoeing through the waters. This is my first attempt at anything remotely smutty, but we'll see where it goes once Y/N is more comfortable in her own skin(lol) Mistakes are bound to happen, and criticism is always welcome.

You weren’t sure where Michelle had agreed to meet, but once Kati turns down the road leading to the boardwalk you know she’s chosen your favorite bar. It’s a fairly popular place for a town this size, but nothing particularly special. It has a stage for the occasional live band, a jukebox for when there’s not, pool tables to kill time, a few high top tables near the entertainment, larger tables in the back, and the bar itself is nestled in the middle. College students and tourists usually found themselves here on Saturday nights.

You weren’t, however, expecting the scene in front of you. There are groups of people forming a makeshift line next to the entrance. You quickly check online for an event listing, even though your gut knows why they’re here.

“You sure about this?” Kati asks with her hands still on the key, her eyes watching you closely.

“If I say no.. will you take me home?” You grimace, your eyes still scanning over the amount of people.

“Nope. Out..” Michelle says, opening her door and stepping out. Kati is right behind her.

In times like these you are glad those two are comfortable in the spotlight. They always helped shield you from it without dimming your own.

Michelle steps confidently in her black Doc Martens that meet fishnets high above her ankle. Her plaid shorts hug her body and the band tee she tucked in was one you’d gifted her on her 19th birthday, faded slightly but still fit perfectly. She adorns it with a choker that accentuates her neck, and black neptunite earrings she made herself. Kati is right beside her in a sleeveless dark red jumpsuit. A deep V that stops just above her belly button leaves little to the imagination; the legs flare at her knees, and cascade around her feet. Bracelets sit high on her forearms, and a long necklace sits on her bare chest. They walk as if everyone is there just for them.

You look down at yourself and take note of your appearance. For the first time you’ll be stepping into the spotlight too. Despite the anxious feeling bubbling in your throat, you open your door and step out. Now or never.

Josh, Jake, Danny, and Sam were busy greeting fans while the three of you wiggled your way through the crowd. Sam was the first to spot the three of you and waved in your direction, causing a few people to look your way. I really should’ve pregamed.

The closer you moved to Josh the tighter your chest felt. You can’t help but wonder if he saw the same comments you had, and if it bothered him the same way it had you. What if he’s embarrassed?

The way his soft eyes light up when he notices you soothes the wounds created earlier, and you can feel the tightness in your chest begin to release. Your hands are still slightly shaking but an idea has made its way into your mind. I’m just a fan.

You work up the courage to ask the man next to you if you can borrow his pen. Michelle overhears you and raises her brow in question. You smirk in return.

The people in front of you move away and you find yourself face to face with the man who held you last night. His eyes travel up and down your body, drinking in every curve. His eyes seem darker now that you’re within reach and he looks as if he’d devour you right here if you’d let him.

“Hey! I’m Y/N.. it’s really nice to meet you.. I’ve been a fan for a while.” You extend your hand towards Josh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing.

“It’s lovely to meet you..” he says, catching on to your act and taking your hand in his.

Releasing your grip you continue “I’m sorry if this is weird but I didn’t bring anything to sign, would you mind… signing me?” You can’t contain your devilish grin.

His eyes narrow in on yours, before moving to where your fingertips are sliding under the lace that rests on top of your left breast as you pull it down slightly. Josh brings his bottom lip between his teeth and contemplates your offer before taking the pen and signing where you had directed him.

“Thanks so much!” You say, covering his name. “Mind if we take a picture?”

“Anything for you..” He adds emphasis on ‘anything’

You hand your phone to Michelle and ready yourself next to Josh. His hand is resting on the small of your back, teasingly close to your ass; your arm is around his shoulders. The first photo taken is normal in front of the lens. What the camera can’t see are his fingertips making their way down. For the second you decide to lean in and press your lips to Josh’s cheek, the pink shade they take on only adding to the quality..

“Thank you! You’re even sweeter in person!” You say, moving your arm from around him. You could tell he didn’t want to let you go.

You, Michelle and Kati make your exit from the group and head into the bar. The usual crowd is inside but the majority of people remain on the walkway outside. You decide whiskey sours are the move for tonight. A little Jack always makes you feel more confident, and you need all the help you can get. After grabbing your drinks the three of you make your way to a large table in the far right corner close to the jukebox; it’s really just TouchTunes, but who can be picky these days?

“So, what was that little move back there?” Michelle is the first to question your move on Josh.

“I’m just a fan..” You say with a breathily laugh before making quick work of your drink.

“You’re just cruel.” Kati shakes her head at you.

“Whattt?” You say, feigning innocence. “He could’ve said no..”

“Please. like that man could possibly say no to those..” Michelle states, her eyes moving to your chest, before directing her attention to her phone, and queuing her song of choice to the jukebox.

You were waiting at the bar for drink number two with an extra shot of Jack when you felt someone behind you. You didn’t need to see him to know who it was. As if your body reacts to his presence, leaving all your senses heightened. You turn your head slightly over your shoulder to find Josh standing close to your bent over form.

“Hey, you…” he voice is low.

You turn your body to face him, keeping your back pressed to the bar, doing your best to keep your body from touching him. The alcohol hasn’t worked its magic yet.

“Hello Joshua, come here often?” You raise your brow at him, deciding to fake it until you make it.

“Not nearly enough” his words drip with want as his eyes scan over your body.

He moves towards you, extending his right arm past you, grabbing the bar. He’s saying something to the bartender, but all you can focus on is the warmth radiating off his chest, and his throat which is now dangerously close. Your breath hitches in your throat. He cuts his eyes at you with a smirk forming on his lips.

“Something wrong..?” He sounds cocky.

You don’t trust your words so you just shake your head once, keeping your eyes trained on him, the room around you fading out.

When he resumes his standing position in front of you, he’s holding the shot you had ordered. You go to take it from his hand, but he moves it away. You give him a puzzled look

“Sit..” he instructs. His eyes directing you to the bar stool that’s been pushed underneath. You pull the edge of the stool and slide onto it, keeping your eyes on him.

He uses his knee to part your legs before moving between them and pressing himself against your already needy core. He takes your chin in his free hand, and brings the shot glass to his lips as he applies pressure to your jaw forcing your lips to part. Oh fuck. Your eyes are clouded with lust as you watch him spill the brown liquid into your mouth from his own before pushing your mouth closed. You swallow greedily as his thumb catches lightly on your bottom lip. You couldn’t feel the burn in your throat over the fire that engulfed your senses, or the way your center ached for him. .

“That’s my girl” He says in a husky voice with a teasing smirk.

“There you are!” Sam announces wrapping his arm around Josh's shoulders, pulling you both back to your surroundings. It’s always fucking Sam.

“Y-yeah just grabbing a drink..” you say, trying to collect yourself, ignoring the pulse between your thighs. You turn quickly to grab the whiskey sour that’s been waiting behind you.

Sam leads the way back to the rest of your group. There are far less people than you expected there to be considering how many were here when you arrived.

“Y/N! Josh! How nice of you to join us!” Jake says in his classic Oliver Reed voice, raising his glass as you and Josh take the two remaining seats.

“They were too busy spitting in each other’s..” Sam starts.

“I didn’t spit…” You cut him off. “I swallowed..” You say matter-of-factly with a wide grin..

Michelle, Kati, and Danny cannot contain their laughter. Jake almost loses the drink from his mouth, and Sam is just shaking his head in disbelief. Josh on the other hand, he looks proud.

Clearing your throat you add “ So, where’d everyone go? I swear this place was packed.” Noting that the usual crowd is here but compared to what you had seen outside you expected it to be shoulder to shoulder.

“Everyone got what they wanted and left..” Josh says. You can tell there’s more behind his words, but decide not to press it, at least for now.

Jake, Danny and Michelle make their way over to the pool tables. They’re very clearly placing a bet, but the details of it you can’t make out. Kati and Sam are at the bar getting another round for everyone, leaving you Josh a moment alone.

“I was worried I wouldn’t see you tonight..” Josh says, leaning into your side presumably so you could hear him better. “Jake said you weren’t feeling well..”

Your friends very obviously lied to cover you earlier. Taking a long sip of your drink to decide where you want to go with this, you search his eyes for a clue. Does he know? Did he see?

“It doesn’t bother you?” You question, taking him by surprise.

His brow furrows and you can almost see the gears turning in his brain to decipher what you're talking about.

“Does what bother me?” He asks after a moment.

“This..” you run your hands down your stomach and thighs.

He still looks confused, so you continue “the things people say… I was just worried earlier.”

“Worried?” He still looks puzzled.

“Josh, if people see us together they're gonna continue to talk shit..”

“Let them…” he says nonchalantly with a shrug, taking a swig of his drink.

“Let them?! It doesn’t bother you?!” You can feel your face growing red.

“It bothers me that they wanted to hurt you. But this.. ” he says, turning to you, and placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze .. “..This I like…and this?” His hand moves up your thigh and over your stomach as you instinctively try to suck in “… I like it too..” He moves his fingertips along the lace covering your ribs and along the cup of your breast “I like you.. and the only thing that’s bothering me right now is that I can’t take this off of you.” His eyes return to your face and the heat has returned to your core.

“Josh.. I-I..” your searching for the words but all you can think about is the taste of his lips.

“Shots!!” Sam announces their arrival. Why is it always fucking Sam?!?

You turn your head, burying your face into Josh’s neck, once again hiding your lustful state. “Just fucking ruin me..” It comes out barely a mumble.

Josh lets out a low laugh and says in a voice only you can hear “Just wait..” He moves his hand back to your thigh, his fingertips sliding between them. You yelp when he squeezes.

Jake, Danny and Michelle saunter over to join the rest of you in a round of shots. Those three seem to be living in a world of their own, only to be brought back by the call for alcohol.

Your eyes scan the group, taking in every detail. Kati and Sam appear to be absolutely smitten, softly swaying to the music, completely wrapped up in one another. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard her laugh this much. Michelle, Danny and Jake radiate confidence, and the way they both look at her is sickeningly sweet. Everyone is in their element, and then there’s you. You who two days ago never would’ve imagined this could happen, and yet here you are, your excitement exceeding your nerves, and in a way you are proud of yourself too.

You raise your glass slightly as if to give yourself a small cheer before bringing it to your lips

“See Josh, she can do it without your help” Sam quips. You throw your middle finger up at him eliciting that shit eating grin you’ve come to love. It hasn’t taken long at all to start seeing him as a little brother.

Kati jabs him with her elbow before asking if he’s ready to go.

You quirk your brow at them “Where to?”

“Sightseeing!” Sam sounds entirely too excited.

“Oh, let me run to the bathroom real quick and we can go with y’all” You say as you’re standing, completely oblivious.

Kati and Sam share a look. “Uh, I don’t think you want..”

“Oh, god!!!” You cut him off. “Yeahh, no. I’m good..” They make their exit, still laughing at your ignorance. Michelle, Jake, and Danny have already lost themselves back in the crowd.

“I will be right back, though.” You say to Josh over your shoulder, heading to the bathroom.

You avoid looking in the mirror for too long as you're washing your hands, refusing to fight with yourself for the hundredth time today, and honestly you’re just ready to make it back to Josh.

As you’re turning the corner, leaving the bathrooms, you notice Josh is no longer sitting alone. A woman with blond hair and tan skin is sitting with him. She has her hand on his arm, and she’s laughing. Your stomach drops. He isn’t yours. You have no reason to feel jealous. You tell yourself, but you do feel jealous. So many times in your life you’ve been a temporary high for someone who was waiting for something better to come along. You err on the side of caution and decide to wait at the bar instead of walking back to the table.The last thing you want to do is interrupt something you weren’t sure if he wanted or not, and you also need another drink to ease the newly seated weight in your chest. You keep your eyes trained on the table and the woman who’s now in your seat. She gestures towards the bathrooms and Josh shakes his head no. What the fuck are they talking about? No what? Why is she leaning so much? She brings her phone up to take a selfie with him. Okay, now go. Josh says something before standing. She’s standing too. She’s hugging him. He’s walking this way. He’s walking this way. You turn quickly to appear preoccupied and unaware.

“I was wondering where you went..” He says, positioning himself next to you.

“I just needed another drink..” You say with a small laugh, taking a sip of your drink.

“Then why did you look like a deer caught in headlights when you saw me coming this way?” He questions you.

“I just didn’t want to interrupt..” You say, shrugging, setting your drink on the bar behind you.

“You could never be an interruption.” He takes your hand in his, moving in front of you.

“You have an image.. And I..” You start.

“Fit perfectly in it..” He interrupts, moving closer to you.

“What’d she ask you? When she pointed at the bathrooms?” Your nervous curiosity gets the best of you.

Josh leans his head back with a breathy laugh “So you were watching!”

“Shut up! I didn’t know what to do!” You say pulling him into a hug. “But really what’d she ask?” You add, letting him go, but keeping your arms around his neck.

He drops his head and shakes it with a chuckle “She asked if she could kiss me on the cheek too.”

Oh. Oh.

“She saw your stunt outside..” He finished.

“I would say sorry, but I’m not” You say cheekily.

“Neither am I..” He says, spinning you around to walk back towards the table.

You pull your phone from your back pocket and glance at the list of queued songs. You see a song that lives in the sweetest of your memories, Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton.

Josh turns to you when the guitar strums through the speakers. “Dance with me?”

You take Josh’s hand, and he pulls you in. Your arms are around his neck, and his are around your waist. You can feel his heartbeat against your own. The memory of your dad spinning your mom around the living room of your childhood home plays in your mind. Times weren’t always good, but in those moments you could see it, the way he truly loved her. You wonder if she felt the way you do right now.

“What’s going on up there?” Josh asks, placing his lips to your temple.

“I just don’t want this to end..” You admit.

“It doesn’t have to..” His arms tighten around you.

“I don’t think you understand..” Tears are threatening your eyes. “You’ll have to leave eventually, and I’ll still be here..”

He’s silent, but you can feel his heart rate rise.

“I-.. I don’t want to be just another fan in a town you’ll forget about..”

He pulls back so he can see your face. “You’re not a fan..”

“Aren’t I though?” Your eyes search his.

“If I remember correctly, you didn’t even want to meet me.” His eyes are filled with adoration. “Most people who know of us just want a picture..a signature..a memory. You want nothing from me, Y/N.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You move your lips to his, ghosting over them in your response, barely above a whisper “..But I do..”

He presses his lips to yours, and the room around you disappears. All of your senses are filled with him; his hands firm on your hips, his curls dancing around your knuckles at the base of his neck, the sweetness of his lips, and the eagerness of his tongue begging for entrance. Your lips part as your hand moves up and grips gently on his curls. He sighs into the motion.

He pulls back slightly as the song comes to a close.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks, catching his breath.

“Please..” You manage out.

He pulls his phone from his pocket in a hurry which only adds to the butterflies you’re feeling.

He steps away to place the call for a ride and you’re cleaning up the table when you notice the blonde woman from earlier approaching you.

“Hey, sorry.. I know this might seem weird but.. are you dating?” She asks, motioning towards Josh at the entrance.

“Oh, no.. ..” You respond, forcing a laugh. “We’re just friends..”

You can tell by her face that she doesn’t believe you, and you can’t blame her if she just witnessed you two.

“Would you mind taking a picture with me anyway?” She asks genuinely. Let them. Josh's words ring in your head.

“Y-yeah, sure.” You're uncertain but lean towards her anyway, noticing Josh making his way back towards you.

“Oh! Get in here!” The girl exclaims pushing him to your other side, putting you between them. After the photo she hugs you and Josh and says her goodbyes.

“That was weird.. Is it like that all the time” You turn to Josh once she’s out of earshot.

“You’ll get used to it..Ride should be here in a few” He says with a smile, completely blowing past what he just said. You’ll get used to it. Will I?

A member from the band's team arrives to pick you both up. You decided it was best to go back to your place to avoid any unwanted attention from the people who will probably be waiting at the hotel. You’re next to Josh in the SUV and his hand is all you can focus on. The pad of his thumb is searching for your skin through one of the frayed holes in your jeans. The only thing stronger than your nerves is your want for him. Your mind tries to wonder about the condition you left your home in. The heart shaped sandwich is still sitting on the counter. The makeup scattered your bathroom counter. The clothes thrown across your room and your dogs waiting patiently in their kennel. The gps chimes bringing your attention that you’ve arrived and the rush of nerves hits you in waves. This is really happening. Nothing has to happen. But god do you want it to.

“Ignore the mess..” You say as you're sliding the key in the lock.

“I’ve lived with Sam, I think I’ll be okay..” He huffs out a laugh.

“Oh, and I have two dogs by the way. They get a little excited so just don’t let them run you over..” You hang your keys on the hook by your door and remove your shoes before making your way down the hall to your dog's bedroom. Living in a three bedroom house by yourself meant you had space for not only a home office/art studio, but also a space for your dogs that was their own. They are like your kids after all.

When you open the door to their room they bolted as you expected. What you didn’t expect was to come back to the living room and see Josh sitting on the floor with them letting them roll all over his lap. The sight alone is enough to make your heart melt.

“Sorry..” You say with a laugh. “They don’t have boundaries..” You open your back door and call them to go out. The yard is fenced, and the doggy door will allow them back in when they’re ready.

“Glass of water or anything?” You ask Josh from the entrance of your kitchen.

“I’m okay, thanks though..” He replies nonchalantly as he explores the pictures hanging on your walls.

You're standing at the sink with a glass of water taking a moment to process when you feel two arms around your waist. Josh presses his body against yours with his hands on the counter in front of you. Your breath hitches in your throat “J-Josh… I..”

His movements are slow and calculated as he moves your hair from your neck and nuzzles his face into the crook. His lips are hot on your skin, creating little bumps as the sensation runs down your body. “I’ve waited all night to feel you..” His voice is low in your ear as he runs his hands up your arms to your shoulders and slowly pulls the long sleeves down. Your shirt falls to the floor leaving only the thin lace between your skin and his fingertips. He sinks his teeth into the flesh below your ear, eliciting a loud breath through your teeth. He soothes his tongue over the newly sensitive skin, as his hands make their way up your sides and around to your stomach causing you to almost buckle beneath him. You move your hands over his slowing his actions.

“Wait..” You manage out. “I’m not.. I’m not..” Your voice cracks.

He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look back at him. “You are everything..”

Your lips crash into his feverishly, turning your body to face him completely, gripping the front of his white shirt pulling him closer. It’s sloppy and heated, but in this moment to hell with perfection. His hands are wild around your waist reaching for every part of you. He breaks the kiss only to bring his lips to your throat, eliciting a low moan from you. His mouth moves lower until the lace that’s cupping your breasts stops him. Your hand finds the back of his head, the loose curls between your fingers as you gently pull to encourage him further. He moans into you as he brings the supple skin into his mouth, biting gently and suckling. Your grip on his hair tightens, causing him to suck harder; surely to leave a mark. You pull his head back. His eyes are clouded with want, as are yours.

“Bedroom.” You huff out, before leading him down the hall. You barely make it through the door before your mouth finds his again. Your hands once more get lost in his curls, as you stumble backwards towards the bed in the dark. Once the back on your legs meet the mattress you lean back, pulling him down on top of you, his arms catching himself on the bed below. You quickly work your way further onto the bed keeping your lips on his. He’s on his knees situated between your legs, which are around his waist. Your hips buck, searching for some kind of friction. Your hands slide up his shirt and he pulls the back of it swiftly over his head, not wanting to miss your lips for a moment longer than necessary. You’re growing increasingly needy, and your jeans are in the way. You move your hands to the button that's resting above your stomach until you realize the salt lamp on your bedside table is still basking the room in warm light.You reach to turn it off, when Josh takes your wrist and stops you. You avert your eyes to him in confusion as he brings your hands above your head.

“No one ever...I don’t want...” You’re trying (and failing) to shrink into yourself.

“I want to see you.. All of you.” He says, resuming what you’d started with the button of your jeans. He lightly taps your thighs to get you to lift your hips so he can slide them down. Once they're off all that’s covering you is the thin lace held together by 3 snaps, and your thighs try to close instinctively.

“All of you..” He repeats in a husky voice, as he gently pulls your knees apart. He settles himself between them. His eyes are filled with lust as he takes in the view in front of him, his fingertips running along the newly exposed areas. His eyes darken the closer he gets to your now dripping core. You’re sure he can see the mess he’s made of you. Your hips buck slightly when his finger teases over your slit through the lace, and again when you feel his lips on the inner part of your thigh just below. He takes his time kissing up your thighs as his hands grip them hard as if he’s staking claim over you.

“J-Joshhh..” You moan out when his tongue makes a pass where your remaining clothing meets your thigh. He pulls the skin there into his mouth with the sting of his teeth, his tongue soothing it quickly.

“I know baby.. I know..” His finger slides under the lace and brushes tantalizingly over your folds, before undoing the snaps one by one. He glides one thumb over your slit, collecting your arousal, and bringing it to your sensitive bud, rubbing slow circles. He kisses just above it, before moving his hand, and licking a broad strip up to your clit. He uses his thumbs to spread you while his tongue teases your entrance. You run your finger through his curls, moving them from his forehead, as he resumes circling the apex of your arousal. You’re writhing beneath him, completely lost in the tightening sensation in your stomach. Your grip tightens on his hair, pulling a low moan from him which adds to the ecstasy his mouth is giving you. One of his fingers slowly pushes into you, curling slightly to find the delicious place inside; he moves it in rhythm with his tongue.

“I.. I’m g..” you can’t find the words through your gasps. His pace quickens as he brings your clit between his teeth, biting gently, causing a high pitched moan from you.

“Let go for me…” He breathes out, before resuming his relentless pace. His words alone are almost enough to send you over the edge. He moves his hand, and slides his tongue inside before moving back to your clit. One last suckle on your sensitive bud, and the knot that’s been building inside unravels. Your hips are pushing up against him as the fiery sensation courses through every nerve ending, pulsing around his fingers. He keeps his pace steady, allowing you to ride out your high.

He pulls back slowly, moving his fingers from you. He cups your over-sensitive center in his hand as he kisses up your thigh, and then your stomach, before reaching your breasts he stops. He pulls at the hem of your body suit that still covers most of you. You sit up on your hands, allowing him to pull it up, and then over your now raised arms. He lays you back down with a kiss to your chest, where his name is written, and slowly moves his way down, taking his time to kiss every inch of skin you allow, paying extra attention to your breasts. He cups one in his hand as his mouth ravishes the other.

Your hips grind up into him in search of relief for the already tight feeling in your stomach. He pushes himself off you, and makes quick work of his pants and boxers.The warm light allows you to see the flexing muscles in his arms as he positions himself between your thighs again, running his hands over your stomach and thighs, before lining himself up with your entrance, gathering your slick, sliding the head of his dick up to your clit and back down. You push your hips down, begging him to give you what you’ve been needing since the first shot at the bar. He slowly pushes into you, feeling you stretch around him. You let out a sharp moan as he pushes to his hilt, filling every part of you. He grabs your thighs and brings them up around his waist, and begins an easy pace. With each stroke you feel yourself tightening around him, and with every pulse his pace quickens, bringing you closer to release.

Your nails are digging into the skin of his back and arms. You’re doing your best to not leave marks, but the harder he fucks into you, the tighter you grip, and the louder his moans get.

“..want you.. Cum on my cock..pretty girl..” His words are stretched through his breathing. That’s all you heard as he pushed you over the edge once more, pulling a strained moan from your lips. Your legs shake as he rides you through the waves crashing over your senses. He pushes harder, and faster, keeping you just below the surface as he finds his own release deep inside you. His movement slows as his hips lose rhythm, finally allowing you to catch your breath. He stays still inside you as your greedy cunt milks every drop from him. He pulls out of you slowly; both of you moaning over the movement. He kisses back up your body, and finds your lips in a deep kiss, breath still heavy.

He releases your lips as the words fall from his “That’s my girl..”

Your heart flutters over the words from beneath him. He kisses his name on your chest once more before standing and walking to the bathroom connected to your bedroom. He brings back a warm washcloth, and wipes over your still sensitive core, cleaning the joint mess from your thighs, leaving a kiss in its place. He then takes his place beside you on the bed, allowing you to cuddle into his side with your head on his chest. His fingertips rub lazy circles on your skin and he kisses your head.

“I meant it..” He says. You look up at him. “You’re mine..” He kisses the tip of your nose.

“I’ve always been a Josh girl..” You respond cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.

You relax back into him and for the second night in a row his heartbeat sings your favorite lullaby.

chapter six ->

#gvf fic #gvf series #josh kiszka series #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet fic #x plus size reader #josh gvf #jake gvf #danny gvf #sam gvf #greta van fleet imagine

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years ago

Text

As It Was (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello, everyone!

Summary: Everything has fallen apart in Westview, will Wanda be able to piece it back together? Will you be there to help her through it? With some surprise guests.

Song used: "As It Was" by Hozier (2019)

The anxiety in Wanda’s chest grew as she watched the twins struggle under Agatha’s magical hold. Despite the anxiety and fear clawing at her chest, Wanda kept her expression calm. She refused to let the twins think they were in danger and she'd be damned if she let Agatha see her fear.

“My powers work out here, or did you forget?” Wanda sneered.

Agatha smiled menacingly. “No, dear. I’m counting it.” The twins quickly attempted to escape only to be pulled back and thrown to the floor by their necks under Agatha's hold.

Wanda’s eyes widened in horror as she immediately sent a blast of energy at Agatha’s chest. The force of the blow sent the witch flying back and away from the twins. “Go home!” She shouted to the two as the red energy flared around her hands.

Billy and Charlie rushed over to their mother's side.

“We’re staying!” Charlie insisted.

Billy nodded in agreement. “Mom we can help!”

Before Wanda could utter a word, Agatha rose from where she had been thrown. A smirk growing on the other woman’s face. “Yeah, Wanda. Let the kiddos help.”

“Now!” Wanda shouted, leaving no room for argument. Charlie wearily took Billy by the arm and flew away, both of the twin's eyes wide with worry. Wanda’s shoulder dropped slightly in relief knowing that at the very least the twins would be safe.

As Agatha approached, Wanda sent another blast of energy at her. She was stopped in her tracks when Agatha seemingly absorbed the energy. Her blood ran cold at the sight as her nerves grew.

The unease she felt fill her bones caused an unexpected spike of nervous energy to burst from the tips of her fingers and run a gap into the sky above her and into the far distance. After realizing what she had done, Wanda took a calming breath and the gap was repaired immediately.

“I take power from the undeserving. It’s kind of my thing.” Agatha explained mockingly when she saw Wanda scramble. “And you are the definition of undeserving.”

The red energy faded fully into Agatha’s hands and Wanda felt weakness appear in her own hand. She watched in horror as the color was drained. Almost as if the hand itself was dying out. Before she could fully process it, she felt a force push her chest and heave her down the street. Her body skidded to a stop, but the energy continued to linger around her.

“Look, Wanda, sweetheart. You have no idea what you’re doing. Clearly.” Agatha taunted as she moved closer. “So, why don’t you just surrender your magic to someone who actually deserves it. Like me. And I’ll let you keep this sick little fantasy all to yourself… What do you say?”

Wanda rose to her feet, her jaw clenched as the red wisps danced angrily around her fingers. With a small waggle of her fingers, a car was summoned and thrown into Agatha.

Breathing heavily, Wanda made her way over to the car to inspect only to find Agatha missing from the scene. The weary feeling in her chest grew.

Until she looked into the reflection in the cracked glass of the window to see you approaching from the distance. The fist that was clenched around her heart loosened at the sight. “Y/n.” She breathed out as she made her way over to you. “I was so worried about you.”

Silence was all she received as you continued to stare blankly back at her. Wanda fidgeted nervously. “You're upset. I-… I will tell you everything, I promise. But first, I love you, Y/n.” Wanda whispered, tears shining brightly in her eyes.

Your hand rose slowly to caress her cheek. “Wanda.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she easily leaned into the touch, her own hand rising to rest over yours. Desperate to disappear into the comfort you represented.

Wanda felt your fingers flex slightly on her cheek before the energy from your hand threw her into the street. You slowly walked over to her and her eyes widened in fear when she saw empty eyes staring back at her.

Something was obviously very, very wrong.

“Y/n. Y/n, it’s me.” Her words were shaky as you hovered over her. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t lose you. If she lost you, you there would be no point in fighting.

Amelia suddenly appeared at your side, a smirk on her face. “And I thought you were powerful.” She turned away from Wanda. “Y/n. Finish her off. I don’t think she’ll fight back.”

“What did you do to her?” Wanda demanded as she attempted to stand. Amelia nudged you and you waved your hand, the earth moving to manipulate itself around Wanda’s legs, effectively pining her down.

Amelia tutted. “I’m just helping her back on the right track, Wanda. With me she’d be so powerful. We would be unstoppable.”

Wanda’s eyes never strayed from you, nervously observing the way you stood without emotion. A stark contrast to the woman who had always been so expressive. “You mean with you she’d be a puppet.” She gritted out through clenched teeth.

Ellie laughed. “Oh, please. You mean like she isn’t already one now? Like you didn’t make her your perfect little house wife? She shouldn’t even be anything other than a shell if it weren’t for your manipulation.”

“That’s not true.”

As Ellie opened her mouth to respond, a voice suddenly appeared in the distance. “Y/N! WANDA!” Wanda turned her head, surprised to see Steve and Natasha running over.

Ellie groaned in annoyance. “Y/n, deal with them. I’ll deal with her.” Wordlessly you walked off, your hands rising at your sides as pieces of the street began floating in the air before you flicked your wrist and threw the objects at the two running Avengers.

Wanda closed her eyes and allowed the energy to destroy the strong earth that was wrapped around her as she leaped to her feet to chase after you.

“Leaving so soon, Little Red?” Agatha called out as she reappeared. Wanda stopped in her tracks and turned to see Agatha smirking back at her. “Everything is going according to plan.”

Wanda nervously watched Steve and Natasha get closer to you out of the corner of her eye. “What plan?” She demanded.

“That’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about. I think Amelia here will take care of you.” The woman replied cryptically. In the blink of an eye Agatha disappeared into a purple haze once more.

“I think you should be more worried about the fact that I’m taking your wife.” Amelia taunted before her fist connected to Wanda’s jaw, sending her sprawling out on the lawn.

The pain in her jaw went unnoticed. Wanda’s eyes began to glow angrily as she got to her feet at the mention of you. “You won’t touch her.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.” Amelia winked suggestively, and Wanda’s hands clenched at the implication.

If looks could kill, Amelia would be six feet under. “Tell me what you did to her.”

Amelia didn’t even flinch. “You see, working with a powerful witch and a vengeful director of S.W.O.R.D has its perks. Agatha gave me a little magic to distract Y/n while I used some new technology to make her ours.”

“Why are you doing this?”

There was a tense moment of silence. “Because you don’t deserve her. If it weren’t for you she would still be with me.”

Wanda shook her head. “We weren’t even together when she left you.”

“She left me because she could only love you.” Amelia’s eyes flashed with anger. “Now that I have her under my control all I have to do is get rid of you and we can finally be together like we always should have. Hayward will take care of the rest.”

The red wisps floating around Wanda’s hands sparked. “She will never love you. Whether she’s with me or not. And I will not let you hurt her or control her.”

Amelia began running at Wanda but before she could get close Wanda flicked her hand and Amelia rose in the air, flailing about angrily as she became encased in the red energy. “It’s too late, Wanda! You can’t stop us.”

Wanda’s eyes flashed. “Nothing you say will ever stop me from protecting her. And I’ll start with you.” Her hand flicked to the side slightly and Amelia went into the house down the street. Wanda flicked her wrist again and the house glowed brightly before returning to its original color. “Let’s see what damage you can do when you’re locked in this house.”

Down the street Steve and Natasha were avoiding the various objects you were firing at them. “What the hell is going on?” Natasha shouted as she narrowly avoided being hit by a piece of concrete.

“I have no idea.” Steve called back as he ducked under a lamp post that was thrown directly at him. “There’s something wrong here. Where’s Wanda?”

As Natasha was distracted by looking for the red-headed witch she was hit with a piece of concrete. A groan fell from her lips as she rolled away. Steve took the opportunity of distraction to close the distance between you both. “Y/n! Enough!” He shouted.

A chill ran down his spine when he met your blank stare. “No.” You replied simply before sweeping his legs out from under him. He quickly sprung to his feet when he felt the earth quickly begin to crawl up his body. Steve was familiar with this fighting tactic of yours.

Your hands clenched slightly in anger as he avoided your trap and you began swinging your fists at him calculatingly, just like he spent years teaching you. All Steve could do was avoid every hit you directed at him. He wouldn’t fight you. He couldn’t.

All he could see when he looked at you was the scared girl he found in the ruble all those years ago. The girl he swore to protect until his dying breath. He couldn’t hurt you even if he wanted to.

As you caught one of his legs in the earth, Steve shut his eyes to prepare for what was to come. Except nothing happened. His eyes opened again to see you on the floor with Natasha standing over you with her stun gun. “What did you do?” He asked worriedly as he scrambled over to you.

“It’s not her Steve. I had to.” Natasha said cautiously. “She’ll wake up in a few minutes.”

“Y/n!” They heard from down the street as Wanda used her powers to propel herself forward, immediately falling to her knees at your side. “Is she okay?”

Natasha nodded solemnly. “She’s fine. I just stunned her. What the hell is going on, Wanda?”

“I-I don’t know entirely. I didn’t mean to-… I just-…” Wanda’s breath became ragged as her hand instinctively found yours, the comfort of the warmth against her skin easing her mind. “I just wanted to protect her. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Steve placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We know, Wanda. We’re on your side. I should have told you that the last time I saw you... There’s something you should know though.”

Wanda tensed slightly. “What is it?”

Everyone watched with bated breath as you stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. “It’s about Hayward. He’s gone rogue.”

“You mean you’re not here because of Hayward?” Wanda questioned in surprise, her grip against your hand tightening slightly.

“We’re here to stop Hayward from using Y/n as a weapon. He messed with her mind when she was in S.W.O.R.D. He’s the reason she wasn’t going to wake up.” Natasha explained.

The information made an anger Wanda had never felt flare within herself. She quickly controlled it though. She knew it wasn’t the time. “He won’t touch her. Ever again.” She gritted out.

Steve’s jaw set. “I agree.”

“That’s something we can all agree with.” Natasha added.

“I thought you were here to fight me.” Wanda admitted, her head falling slightly.

Both Steve and Natasha exchanged looks. It was clear how much pain Wanda was in. Pain that they didn’t even realize. “Of course not, Wanda. We’re a family. We are going to fight with you. With Y/nn.” Natasha said softly.

Tears began glistening in Wanda’s eyes. “You’ll help me protect her then?”

“Of course. I made her a promise. I made you a promise.” Steve replied without hesitation, squeezing Wanda’s shoulder lightly.

Natasha placed her own hand on Wanda’s other shoulder. “We’ve been outside the law before. For Y/n, I’d gladly do it a hundred times more.” Wanda gave a watery smile. “What do you need from us?”

A heavy sigh heaved from her lips as her eyes fell on you. “I don’t know. Everything is falling apart.”

“Wanda.” Steve said suddenly. She looked up at him cautiously, the worry shining brightly in her eyes. “This is your home?”

For a moment she hesitated. “It was supposed to be. Before Y/n-… Before she-”

“Stop.” Steve interrupted, his eyes flashing with determination. “This is the home you built with Y/n. Who you love. So, I ask again, this is your home... Right?”

Wanda nodded, the determination contagious. “This is my home.” She repeated.

Steve smiled slightly. “Then protect it. Nat and I will get Y/n back. You take care of the rest.”

The relief Wanda felt at the words was the final push she needed. She worriedly took another glance at you. “I will. Keep her safe.”

Steve nodded. “That’s a promise. Now go.” Wanda placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before she propelled herself forward in search of the other witch who was an ever-present danger to the town and her own happiness.

Not a moment after Wanda had left, you spring to your feet. Steve tried not to be proud of how you automatically fell into a defensive stance.

Natasha slightly nudged Steve out of his thoughts. “Look at her neck.”

Almost immediately his eyes fell to the small, almost undetectable piece of metal flashing under the light of the sun. “That son of a bitch.” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Language.” Natasha quickly chided on reflex.

Steve pressed his lips in a line. “Really? Now?”

You tilted your head slightly as you watched them speak, seemingly debating the need to attack or not. Natasha fell into her own defensive stance. “Sorry, force of habit.” She smirked. “New plan?”

“You distract, I’ll pin her, and you get whatever the hell they put on her off.” Steve explained.

Natasha nodded. “Sounds simple enough. Let’s see if she learned any new tricks.” Before Steve could say anything else, she sprinted over to you, catching you off guard and sweeping your legs out from under you. A small huff fell from your lips as you looked up at her in disbelief. “Who do you think taught you that move, kid?” Natasha teased lightly.

You leapt to your feet, your hands clenched angrily as you kicked Natasha in the side. She groaned at the impact.

The satisfied smirk that appeared on your face nearly caused Steve to forget the mission. You were typically calm in fights, but you never got satisfaction from causing others pain. The sight of it made his blood boil. To see the aftermath of what Hayward wanted to make you.

“Steve-… a little… help.” Natasha grunted breathlessly as she strained to keep up with you.

Springing into action, Steve took advantage of your focus on Natasha to grab you from behind pinning your arms to your sides. He winced slightly as he felt the earth crawl up his legs under your manipulation. “Natasha, get it now!”

“This isn’t going to feel good.” Natasha muttered before forming her hand into a fist and punching the side of your neck. The sound of the metal that had attached itself to you falling to the floor was deafening.

Steve winced at the sound of the force of her hit, but you stopped struggling in his arms when the object was gone. “What-Where’s Wanda?” You shouted beginning to struggle in Steve’s arms again. He just tightened his hold.

“Y/n! Y/n stop!” He roared, and you froze.

“STOP!” The shout reverberated through the training room. “That is enough!”

You grimaced as you looked around at the destroyed room. “I-… I’m sorry. I just started thinking of everything and then… And then this happened.”

Your eyes fell to the floor and you could feel a comforting arm wrap around you. “Hey, I'm sorry for yelling... It’s okay. Just how about next time you talk to me instead of destroying the training room?” You nodded, leaning into the man’s side. “I’m here for you, Y/n. Always.”

Tears burned your eyes as you allowed yourself to accept the comforting presence. “Thank you, Steve. For everything.”

You stopped thrashing in Steve’s arms. “Steve?” You whispered. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Natasha eyes softened slightly. “I think you can let her go now.”

A moment later the arms around you loosened as you looked between the two people in front of you. There were several questions racing through your mind, but only one mattered to you. “Where’s Wanda?”

“She went to go deal with the witch.” Steve explained, and your eyes widened.

Your breathing became heavy. “I have to go help her. Will you two be-”

Natasha quickly interrupted you. “We’ll be okay. Go protect your girl.”

You looked over at Steve who gave you an affirming nod. “We’ll catch up.”

With their assurance you quickly took to the air in search of the woman you loved.

After a few minutes of flying over Westview, a beam of red energy shot into the sky, splitting open the invisible walls that surrounded the town. That could only mean one thing. Wanda.

As you began flying closer, you felt gaps make their presence known in your mind as familiar pain began coursing through your veins.

The sudden appearance of the pain made your vision go spotty as you crash landed in the town square a few feet away from Wanda. Her eyes found you immediately as the red energy continued to burst from her chest.

“N-no.” Wanda stuttered out brokenly as she watched you weakly crawl towards her, your eyes threatening to shut.

“Wanda.” You mumbled out through pained gasps as your vision became even more precarious.

As Wanda was watching you Billy and Charlie crash landed by your side, pieces of them chipping away into the red energy. “Billy! Charlie!” You desperately shouted, feebly crawling over to the twins.

“Momma! Help, Mom!” The twins cried out.

Tears rushed down Wanda’s cheeks as she watched her world slip away before her very eyes. “Now do you see, Wanda? You tied the ones you love most to this twisted reality and now one can’t exist without the other.” Agatha called out, a dark edge to her words. The twins continued to cry out as you strained to get to them. “Save Westview or save your family.”

As the pain was intensifying in your veins you heard a pained scream burst past Wanda’s lips. Your heart broke at the despairing sound.

As quickly as it came, the pain disappeared from your veins as you jumped up and rushed over to Wanda who was crumpled on the floor. You gently helped her up and immediately took her into your arms, pressing your lips into the side of her head as the twins rushed over.

“Mom! Are you okay?” Billy asked anxiously.

The four of you stood in a large embrace for a second before you saw a burst of purple light fly directly towards you all. “No!” Wanda cried as she jumped in front of you and the twins, a forcefield forming around her.

You gathered the twins in your arms as you braced for impact only to open your eyes again to see Wanda straining against a force you didn’t understand.

The life seemingly draining from her hands.

You heart thudded against your chest as you worriedly watched her. “Wanda. Are you okay?”

The twin’s eyes were wide with fear as Wanda nodded faintly. Agatha interrupting before she could properly answer. “How sweet. Good thing my reinforcements have arrived.”

The sound of tires screeching pulled into the town hall just as Amelia flew in. The four of you took matching defensive stances. “Billy, Charlie, your mother and I never prepared you for this but-”

“But you were born for it.” Wanda finished your thought. You both shared a brief smile.

The moment ended when Amelia lunged at Wanda. Before she could touch her, you flew at the other woman, tackling her into the building down the street. You rolled out of the crash landing and raised your fists. “Why are you doing this?” You shouted as you both stared at one another.

“Because you belong to me! It was supposed to be us and then she ruined it!”

You shook your head. “Amelia, this isn’t you. We were friends.”

“We were never friends.” She countered coldly.

You cautiously took a step forward, dropping your arms. “We were. I’ve seen it in my mind. Even after we dated.” There was no response in her eyes which made a thought form in your mind. “We were friends.” You repeated.

Her lips pursed. “No. We weren’t.” Her hand fiddled with a thin scrap of leather that hung around her neck. The action caught your attention and further confirmed your suspicions.

“Amelia. You used to trust me. You can still trust me now.” You said cautiously, your hands raised in the air slightly.

Her eyes narrowed. “There’s only one way you can gain my trust again.”

“And what’s that?”

She smirked. “Leave Wanda.”

“Okay.” You replied.

Amelia faltered slightly at your words, obviously expecting more resistance. “What?”

“Okay. I’ll leave her.” You offered your hand. “Let’s go tell her.”

The skepticism never faded from her expression, but she slowly approached you and took your hand. You tugged her closer so that you were face-to-face.

Before she could react, you quickly ripped the necklace off her neck. “Amelia?” You asked wearily when you noticed her expression shift.

“Y/n?” She mumbled. You nodded in relief. “What happened? Did I-… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Her watering eyes made you feel for the other woman. She wasn’t in control. “It’s okay. It wasn’t you.”

“Agatha. She took me when I was vulnerable. It’s like I was here, but I wasn’t me.” She mumbled brokenly and rubbed the place on her neck where the necklace used lay. “I would never try to come between you and Wanda. I know how much you loved her.”

You nodded slightly. “I know. It’s okay, Amelia.”

She shook her head, the conflict clear in her eyes. “I should go. I’m sorry.” Before you could react, she ran out of the room. You frowned slightly, wishing there was a way you could have helped her more. There was no time to allow yourself to dwell though because your family needed you.

Without hesitation you flew back to the center of the town square, noticing Billy and Charlie now with Monica and Natasha.

You landed by their side and Billy and Charlie rushed into your arms. You soothingly stroked their hair. “Are you two okay?” You felt them nod into your side. “Where’s Steve?”

Natasha tilted her head slightly. “Making sure Hayward doesn’t go anywhere.”

You followed her eyes to see Steve standing menacingly over Hayward, his fists clenched angrily. Almost as if he was daring him to make one wrong move. To give him a reason.

Just as you were about to ask about Wanda, bright flashes of red and purple collided in the sky as Wanda continued her fight with Agatha. You rushed to fly up to help Wanda in whatever way you could. You couldn’t let her fight alone.

When you got closer one of Wanda’s hands shifted as she created a barrier of red energy. The strength of it forcing you back down to the ground rapidly. “Wanda! Wanda, what are you doing?” You called, meeting her eyes briefly before she turned her attention back to Agatha.

Back on the ground you rushed back over to the twins again, wrapping a protective arm around each of them as you all worriedly watched bursts of red energy hit the no longer invisible walls that surrounded Westview. The clouds that hung over the city made the situation feel even more grim.

The worry expanding in your chest the longer Wanda continued fighting alone.

Suddenly, the flashes stopped and all you saw was Wanda limply floating in the sky, the fight seemingly gone from her system. Your stomach dropped as the twins cried out for her. You quickly tucked their heads into your side to shield them from the terrifying sight. It took every ounce of strength in your being to force back the onslaught of tears that filled your eyes. You had to be strong. For the twins. For Wanda.

Your heart leapt into your throat when a bright burst of red energy suddenly appeared from your wife. Almost as soon as the energy appeared, the storms clouds disappeared and were replaced by a beautiful day in Westview. You smiled at the sight of your wife slowly floating back down to earth. Back to you.

When your gaze finally fell on Wanda up close, your mouth ran dry. She was glowing. The sight of her alone was enough to take your breath away daily, but seeing her now… You were certain you’d never remember how to breath properly again. Your brain had short-circuited and the only cognitive thoughts that remained were of how unbelievably beautiful Wanda was.

You were vaguely aware of her having a conversation with Agatha, but you couldn’t process anything that was said. It was like the world around Wanda faded. Like you were seeing her again for the first time. Before you knew it, she was walking back over to you, her every move appearing in slow motion in your mind. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her if you wanted to. And you certainly didn’t want to.

The twins rushed out of your arms and into her waiting ones.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asked as she looked up at Wanda anxiously. You slowly made your way over as well.

“I’m okay.” Wanda assured them, pressing a kiss to each of their heads.

Her eyes met yours and you were sure your heart could burst out of your chest at any moment. Everything was so clear now. Wanda was so clear now. As she always should have been. “It looks like the city might need a few renovations.” You said cheekily, your smile faltering when you met Wanda’s sad stare. “I know you’ll make everything right though... Just not for us.” You added quietly as to not worry the twins.

Wanda smiled sadly back at you and the pain in her eyes made your heart lurch into your throat. “No, not for us.”

You nodded solemnly, quirking your lips up slightly so that the twins wouldn’t see your pain. So that Wanda wouldn’t see your pain. “Then it’s time. Let’s go home.” You looked over Wanda’s shoulder to meet Steve’s eyes, his expression fell when he met your stare. A silent look of understanding past between you as he nodded.

He mouthed what looked like “I’m proud of you.” and you could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes before you looked away to prevent the tears from building up in your own.

You wrapped your arm lovingly around Wanda’s shoulder as you began the trek back to the house with your family. Both you and Wanda nodded at Monica and Natasha before you continued onward. There were no words spoken on the way back, it wasn't a time for words. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her though.

Memorizing every freckle, every shade of green in her eyes. Staring at her as if it would be the last time you ever saw her. Because it just might have been.

The smile that formed on her face each time she caught you made it all more than worth it. When you walked through the doors of the home you felt the comforting energy wash over you once more.

You settled on Charlie’s bed, tucking the blanket around her as Wanda did the same for Billy. “Today was certainly a big day and your mother and I…” You trailed off as you looked over at Wanda who was watching you with a small smile. “We are proud of you both.”

Her smile grew as she nodded in agreement. “Very proud.” You melted at the sight. “You know, a family is forever. We could never truly leave each other, even if we tried. You know, that right?” Both Billy and Charlie nodded with small smiles.

You lightly brushed Charlie’s hair back and pressed a loving kiss to her forehead as Wanda did the same for Billy before you both switched. “Goodnight, my loves.” You said quietly as you walked to the door of the room.

“Goodnight, Momma.” They said in unison. “Goodnight, Mom.”

Wanda stopped by your side at the doorway and you could see the pain in her eyes as she turned to take one last look at the twins. You wished that you could take the pain and bear the burden for her, but you couldn’t. You were in the same pain as you watched your children for a final time. The red energy closing in on the home faster than you could have anticipated. Closing in on the world the love of your life had created with you.

“Billy, Charlie…” Wanda’s voice wavered slightly. You placed a comforting hand on the small of her back and she pushed through. “Thank you for choosing us to be your moms.”

The way that they both smiled back at you and Wanda made your heart break even more as she shut off the light and closed the door behind herself. Wanda walked down the stairs as you were collecting your emotions.

When you finally gathered your emotions and met Wanda downstairs you were confused to find her shutting off all the lights around the house. You turned a lamp back on.

Wanda turned to face you in surprise. “My love, don’t you know it’s bad luck to say goodbye in the dark?” You said in a playful manner, hoping that the words came out lighter than how you actually felt.

For a moment Wanda just stared at you until a small smile overtook her features. It was clear she saw through your attempts. “No, it’s not.”

You smiled slightly as you spun the ring on your finger anxiously. “You're right. It’s not. I just-… I just wanted to be able to see you.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “And?”

Your heart faltered in your chest when she looked at you like that. “And you’ve never looked more beautiful.”

The smile she gave you was small and short lived because the sight of the red energy pressing even closer drew the focus. Wanda took your hand and you hoped she didn’t notice the way it shook.

Unsteadily you turned to face her. “Before I go, I feel I would like to know… Am I still me? What am I now?”

Wanda caressed your cheek and you leaned into her touch. “You, Y/n… are the love of my life. The one person that has kept me above water when I felt like I would drown… Your mind may fragmented and broken and running on pieces of memories that I could never let go. Running on dreams of the future I always envisioned for us... But you're still you.” A tear fell slowly down her cheek and your chest tightened at the sight. “You are my sadness and my hope. But mostly... You are my love.”

Feeling that words would not suffice, you leaned in and connected your lips in loving embrace. Pouring out all the love you had ever felt for the woman before you. Desperately trying to convey the inner workings of your heart. When you pulled away you felt Wanda’s thumb brush lightly over your cheek bone as your tears became impossible to choke down any longer.

“We have found a love when we thought it was all gone from the world. We have found love when we thought we weren’t meant to be. We found love in the future we should have had. Who knows what you’ll find next?” You whispered with a small smile, knowing that even if it wasn’t with you, you wanted Wanda to find love and happiness.

The light from the red energy filled the room and Wanda gently cupped your cheeks as desperation grew in her eyes. The tears now streaming steadily from her eyes. “We’ve said goodbye before, so it only makes sense-” She began.

“That we will say hello again.” You finished the thought quietly as you rested your forehead against hers, bracing yourself for the impact. “Until we meet again, my love.”

As the energy washed over the home, you never let your eyes falter from Wanda’s as the fire-like pain raced into your veins again. You were able to fight it for a moment until the agony forced you to your knees, and your vision became spotty.

“And in a few days, I would be there, love. Ever here that's lived in me is yours just as it was”

You squeezed Wanda’s hand lightly and she hummed so you knew you had her attention. “I like that lyric.”

She shifted her head slightly to look at you, her eyes glimmering curiously. “Why?”

You lifted yourself onto your elbows so you could hover over her, a loving smile on your face. You lightly brushed away a strand of her hair. “Because everything that’s lived in me is yours and that’s as it was. From now until my heart stops beating.”

For a moment she just stared at you, her eyes shining brightly up at you. Your heart soared.

When she yanked you down by the collar to meet her lips, the memory fragmented and suddenly everything was black. All you felt was a searing pain coursing through your veins.

“With this we can keep her vitals low enough to where that freak will think she’s gone. Then we can extract the DNA.” You wanted to scream but no sound came out, the burning just became more intense until-

Your eyes burst open as you struggled to take in small gasps of air. When your breathing evened out, you took in the empty plot of land you were in the middle of. Arms were quickly wrapped around you, pulling you as close as humanly possible and you looked up to meet emerald eyes. “Y/n? Is this really happening right now?”

You nodded slightly. “That pain. That pain that made me black out... It was a memory. It wasn’t because I couldn’t exist outside of your energy. It was the memory of what they did to me and how much it hurt. Your powers are helping me piece everything together in my mind after they scrambled it, Wanda.”

Wanda quickly buried her head into the crook of your neck. “I can’t believe your awake.” She whispered. “Don’t worry. I will make him pay for what he did to you.”

You pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “All that matters is that we’re together. He’s not worth it.”

“Do you-… Can you remember everything?” Her words were hesitant, almost as if she was scared to know the answer.

You tilted your head slightly. “I don’t know. Ask me something.”

“What happened when you tried to cook at the compound?”

You shut your eyes for a moment before you recalled the memory. “I almost burned it down. You admitted that you wanted to live with me that day.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Yes. When did we first admit we love each other?”

Again, you closed your eyes as you attempted to recall the memory only to come up blank. “I don’t… I don’t remember.” You admitted dejectedly.

Wanda’s gently tilted your head up. “It’s okay. All that matters is you’re here. And in my arms.” She smiled as tears fell down her cheeks. “We can always work on getting back the rest of your memories.”

“And we can finally have that happy ending I promised you... I told you we were a happy ending.”

A watery laugh fell from her lips as she nodded and pressed her lips to yours once again. “I missed you so much.” She mumbled against your mouth, the smiles on both of your faces making it almost impossible to continue but you didn’t let it stop you.

With the help of Natasha and Steve, (who cried tears of happiness when he saw you alive and well), both you and Wanda were able to escape the prying eyes of the public. The seclusion working to strengthen your bond, work on your memory, and help Wanda understand her new power. Each day showed process and neither of you could have been happier.

There was a lot to work on, but as far as you were concerned, everything was perfect. As it was.

And there we have it folks! The conclusion of "As It Was" the spin off of my baby "Love Goes". For some reason, it took me so long to be able to write this conclusion even though I knew everything I wanted to happen. And you will all be pleased to know I had always intended a (Semi) happy ending for Wanda here!

It was been a journey and I truly thank you all for sticking around. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed. As always thoughts and comments are always welcome. :)

Tag list:

@theofficialzivadavid // @tquick99 // @marrymemcgrath // @afuckingshituniverse // @pxterstrk // @aimezvousbrahms // @ensorcellme // @sapphicshots // @daisybri7

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff fic #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x y/n #wandavision

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teddy06writes · 4 years ago

Text

Locked Away

Requested by this anon: “Heyo! Can I please request an Awesamdude x Fem!Reader in which the reader is an inmate at Sam’s prison? Not Stockholm syndrome or anything because the reader already had a crush on Sam before being put in there. Thanks!”

And also this one: “ please i will cry if i don’t get more awesamdude content. i’ve scrolled to the very end of his every hashtag.”

Awesamdude x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swearing, yelling, manipulation (dream’s the reason your in prison), character death

premise: In game AU; or the past three months you’d been under Dream’s control, only half aware of what was going on, the last thing you can remember from before was talking to Sam almost telling him your feelings, but now, as you are suddenly yanked from his control you find yourself being thrown in prison, now under his watchful eye

{oh there is no fluff here fellas}

“blep” talking

‘belp’ talking but its the green bitches voice in your head

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You were drifting, drifting through your strange, foggy world, doing your best to forget about the way you could barley control your own body, just a puppet on strings, when yelling, not of the voice that you’d been hearing, but of someone else, cut through the smog.

-“It’s over!”-

-”none of this will ever be over”-

The voice, it was your own but it didn’t belong to you.

-”Dream has Surrendered (y/n), we can’t allow you to continue on his work”-

Growing bored you begin to drift away again, barley seeing, or feeling the people dragging you away.

Sometime later, you’d been drifting, and then were suddenly plummeting back down into your body, a strangled sound escaping your throat as you regained control of your own body.

“What the fuck?” A loud voice asked.

You jerked your head up, turning to see that it was Sapnap who had been restraining you as you shuffled along, weakly asking, “Wha-? Sapnap- what’re you? Wh- what?”

You looked around frantically at the smooth Blackstone walls, and down the hallway to where Bad and Sam are moving through unlocking a series of locks, “Where? Wha- Where I am I? Wh- wh- wh- what’s going on?”

“Yeah nice try,” Sapnap scoffed, “I’m not letting you go because of fake amnesia.”

“No- it- I-” Panic was rising in your chest as Sam and Bad finished with the locks and pulled open a door to what looked like a cell.

“You think we shackle her like we did with him?” Sapnap asked, all but dragging you forward.

Bad was clearly about to nod when Sam stopped him, obviously conflicted as he searched your eyes, “No. She won’t need them.”

“What is happening right now?” You asked desperately.

Ignoring you Sapnap nodded, pulling your forward and pushing you into the cell, the barred door closing behind you, “Well, you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go talk to Dream.”

“Be careful.” Bad advised and Sam began to relock the door.

You slowly, shakily, pulled yourself to your feet, look through the bars at Sam and Bad, “What is going on?”

Bad frowned, almost glaring at you, “(y/n) this is what happens to people who do bad things. Siding with Dream is just about the worst thing you could have done.”

“Side wit- side with Dream?” You blinked, rubbing at your temples as panicked tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, “I- I didn’t- I wouldn’t-”

Bad simply turned away as Sam finished the locks, taking in a shaky breath, “We trusted you, you know?”

“I- Sam- I didn’t- Sam I don’t know whats going on? Where am I? I didn’t- I didn’t side with Dream- I would never side with Dream.” You said desperately.

“This is The Prison (y/n), entirely unescapable, made for people li- like you,” His voice wavered, and quickly he turned, “There's no getting out.”

You cried yourself to sleep that night, small sobs echoing through the empty halls of the prison; in his office Sam felt each new sob in his chest; in his cell, with each new sob Dream’s smile only grew larger.

Sam sighed, blocking out Dream’s monologue as he slid the tray of food through the opened slot in the door.

Dream’s cell had no bars, just a full steel door, and a tiny window in the ceiling, yet the man seemed to enjoy it, far to much.

“You know how funny it was to see (y/n) getting dragged in here?” Dream laughter shrilly.

“You were in here, there was no way you could’ve seen anything.” Sam replied sharply.

“Oh but I hear everything,” Dream laughed again, “Stupid bitch didn’t even know what was going on, god I didn’t think it’d be that easy to get in her dumbass head.”

“Don’t call her that,” Sam hissed, slamming the slot shut and locking it, “I don’t want another word out of you until you’re giving me that fucking tray back.”

Ten minutes later the hallway your cell was in was deadly silent other than Sam’s footsteps, “Food time.”

He slid the tray into the slot of your door, and look picked your head up from leaning back on the wall to look at him, “You do realize something’s wrong here, right?”

“I mean, you siding with Dream was certainly wrong.” Sam muttered.

You sounded utterly broken and defeated as you moved to lay back on your cot, turning to face the wall, “I didn’t realize manipulation was a form of agreement.”

Sam sighed, “Are you gonna eat this or not? I’m not suppose to leave till you do.”

“Then I guess your going to have to sit here.”

The first 15 minutes passed in silence, Sam resigning to sit on the floor outside your cell as the minutes ticked on, eventually asking, “You were saying you didn’t remember anything, what exactly do you remember?”

“You.” The word was simple enough, “We were talking- you said you thought you could do something. Tried to walk me home but I said I’d be fine. Dream was waiting at my house.”

Sam hummed, a slight anxiety rising in his chest, “What did I think I could do?”

You sighed, studying the Blackstone wall, “You said ‘I think I might be able to love you’ but with whatever I did there's no way it’s true anymore.”

Sam stayed quiet, thinking back on that night nearly two months ago, plans for the building of that very prison were being finalized, he’d felt so on top of the world he’d admitted the feelings weighing him down, but then you had become strange, distant.

“Why did you do it?” He asked eventually.

“Do what?”

“Y- you were helping Dream, with fighting New L’manburg, exiling Tommy, blowing up L’manburg again, you- you helped him round up the things that hold power.”

You frozen, distant foggy memories flaring up in your mind, a thousand answers presenting themselves, ultimately deciding on, “Do you know what it feels like, to not be in control of your mind? To be stuck in the passengers seat as a madman takes to the road?”

He was silent as you continued, “To have your consciousness so nearly severed from your body that you can barley see or feel what’s going on? I didn’t have a chance to ask what was going on. He was just there, in my brain. Do you know what that’s like? I’d say you shouldn’t. Just take that food back and leave. Let me go back to dreaming of a future I missed out on.”

“How did it happen?”

Another quiet question, another quiet silence interrupted.

“It’s- foggy,” You admitted, more to the ceiling than to Sam, “But I think- I think it was like a switch got flipped. Could still be flipped. Then he’d be in control again.”

A week had passed since you’d been locked away, and still Sam would sit, until you finished your food, or, more like, until you finally pushed the food away, still refusing to eat despite the pangs of hunger.

“I- I didn’t kill anyone, did I?” You hazarded.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “Even if you did, that wasn’t you. Nothing you did then was you.”

“Stop doing that.” You muttered, rolling over to face the wall yet again.

“Doing what?”

“Saying things you would’ve said before,” You said bitterly, “You can’t treat me like a monster one second and then like a lover the next. I may be a monster thanks to him but I do not think I deserve that.”

“You’re not-”

“A monster?” You cut him off, “That why I can still fucking hear him sometimes? Taunting me? Threatening to take over again?”

Sam froze, looking back through the bars to your turned back, “You can here him?”

Your hands began to shake, thinking about the barren whispers that filled your head at night, forcing yourself to sit up and turn back to him, plucking a small piece of bread from the tray, “Sometimes.”

“How? His cell is on the other side of this place.”

“He’s in my head, still hasn’t fully left, that is,” You sighed, biting off a small chunk of the bread before tossing it back on the tray and pushing it toward the door, “Thank you.”

Reluctantly Sam took the tray, standing up and starting to trudge back down the hallway, “I won’t let him hurt you.”

Soon, he journeyed back down to the level where Dream was being held.

“I had a feel you’d be down here.” Sam could hear the smirk in Dream’s voice.

“What did you do to her?”

Dream chuckled, “I guess that depends on what you mean. Technically I didn’t do anything, that was all her.”

“What did you do?” He repeated.

“Nothing of consequence. For me at least. Honestly it was really quite easy to get in her head, didn’t even fight it,” Dream shifted, letting out a harsh laugh, “Part of me thinks it was like she was already that bad. Just as evil as me.”

Sam crossed his arms, “No one could be as evil as you, least of all her.”

“Of course you’d think so,” Dream laughed, “Course you’d think better of a monster.”

‘you think he’s ever going to forgive you?’

‘you’re a monster (y/n) nothing can change that.’

‘no matter how much you beg, no matter how much you try to get them to understand it was me, they will never let you out.’

His voice haunted you, keeping you up far into the night, words etching themselves into the walls of your mind.

‘he will never forget what you did.’

‘you ruined people, you worked for me, and that makes you evil.’

‘Your a monster. And even if you weren’t one before, I’ll make sure you become one.’

“You don’t control me.” You muttered up into the darkness.

‘oh (y/n) your so naïve.’

“Shut up.” You muttered more forcefully.

‘you think I can’t control you from here? you are a fucking fool.’

Almost immediately a feeling of panic surged through you as something changed, the switch in your head being flipped once again, the last thing you could truly hear as he took over was two harsh words.

‘you’re mine.’

It was early in the morning when Sam had woken up to a panicked sounding Bad over the coms, “I don’t know what's happening!! It- it sounds like- like someone's trying to kill her!”

Almost immediately Sam was up and sprinting down the corridor.

It took him all too long to reach your level, where Bad was frantically trying to undo the locks on your cell.

“Get out of the way!” He yelled, pulling out the master key card as he heard the obvious sounds of someone being choked.

It took yet a moment longer to get the cell door open, to find you one hand clamped around your own throat, the other desperately trying to pry it off.

“Bad go get healing pots!” Sam yelled, immediately rushing forward to help you as Bad went running.

It took him a moment to wrench your hand away from your neck, just long enough for you to cough twice, looking up at him in fear, “Sam, run.”

His brow furrowed, looking down at you confused as your face seemed to shift, and then suddenly you were throwing him across the room.

Sam watched, dazed as you bolted out of the cell and down the hall, master key card in hand.

By the time he had dragged himself to his feet, and his vision had cleared itself of the spots that had drifted through there were several alarms going off, and distantly, he could hear people running.

“Bad! Ant! Give me an update, what’s happening?!” He yelled into the coms, already starting to run to where he suspected the noise was coming from.

“The key cards! She got the key cards! They’re headed for south sector!” Ant yelled back.

“I want someone back in the control room,” Sam ordered, “Turn the mining fatigue up, set the lava traps and get guards on the outer perimeter. We can’t let Dream escape.”

Sam continued to run, listening to chatter over the coms as to where you were headed, quickly gaining.

“Freeze!” Sapnaps loud voice echoed through the corridor.

Dream turned from where you were toiling to break the wall to see Sapnap, Antfrost, BBH, and Sam all aprouching, crossbows drawn.

“Surrender now and we won’t take your last life.”

Dream merely laughed, looking his former friends in the eye, “You can’t stop me.”

“It’s four on two, seems like pretty good odds in our favor.” Sam hazarded, stepping forward and breaking the line.

Dream seemed to size him up, before glancing to you, “Kill them.”

The words were simple, and clear.

You stood, dropping your pickaxe and donning the armor nabbed while on the run.

“(Y/n), don’t-” Sam said cautiously, lowering his crossbow.

Dream sneered at him, drawing the other sword taken from the armory as Sapnap drew his own, “(y/n), fight him, I can take care of the rest.”

You nodded obediently holding up your sword before launching yourself towards Sam.

Sam raised his shield, blocking your first thrust, and then the second, quickly trying to back away from you as Dream attacked his comrades, “(y/n) don’t do this!”

His words fell upon deaf ears as you attacked again, this time grazing Sam’s arm with your blade.

He yelped in pain, instinctively starting to swing back, though not heavily enough to hurt you.

The sounds of fighting echoed through the corridor as you and Dream clashed with the guard, the men Dream attacked falling quickly until it was just you and Sam battling it out.

You slashed again at his arm, this time penetrating deep into the exposed skin on his inner arm, using his pause and yell of pain as time to kick him back knocking the sword out of his hand and pinning him to the ground with your boot.

Your sword poised at his throat you looked to Dream, waiting for confirmation.

When the man nodded Sam desperately reached out to you, “(y/n), (y/n) please- don’t- plea-”

You’d been drifting again, thinking of the night before Dream had taken you.

It had been late, you had stayed to long gazing at the sky, and Sam had found you sitting by the prime path.

He’d sat down next to you, and for a while you talked about everything and nothing all at once, until you’d laughed, and in some sort of sleep drunk state, leaned in and tried to kiss him.

Much to your surprise he had kissed back, giving you a murmured confession, the same one you heard now, yelled and frantic.

-”(y/n) please! I- I think- I love you- Don’t do this! Don’t-”-

The strings were cut, and you plummeted back into your own body in time to see a blade cutting into his neck.

“S-Sam?” Your eyes traveled up the blade, to the hand clasped around the grip- your hand.

“Sam!” You were desperate now, tossing the sword away with a clatter as fresh tears sprang in your eyes.

Distantly you could hear Dream laughing as you leaned over Sam’s body, “Sam no! Sam- Sam- I told you to run- I told you to run! Why? Why didn’t you? Sam! Please! No!”

The only thing you got in return was Dream’s wild laugh, and the blade being thrust into your back.

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #awesamdude x reader #teddy06 writes

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tennessoui · 3 years ago

Note

I’m obsessed with all your fics and you but the a/b/o fic with a pregnant obiwan is killing me I love the floof so much

so happy you like the roadtrip au as it's one of my favorites too!!!

have about 2k more because youre awesome <3

(squick: a/b/o)

They’re somewhere in eastern Ohio when Anakin clears his throat and turns down the music. Obi-Wan’s back in the front seat with him, munching on a stick of beef jerky he’d never in a million years eat if it hadn’t been the most appetizing thing in that last gas station. Obi-Wan hates these cravings, can’t make sense of them at all, seeing as he hasn’t even eaten beef in fifteen years.

Anakin had just laughed and bought five different flavors, just to make sure Obi-Wan had something he liked.

All the rest of the food is in the back on his nest, which makes Obi-Wan a little grumpy because the only thing that should be on his nest is him and Anakin, but it’s not like there’s anywhere else for the food to go. Obi-Wan needs all the room in his seat to stretch out his legs, and if they put the food in the trunk then they’d have to stop every hour or so for Obi-Wan to get out and get it, which wouldn’t work at all, because Anakin doesn’t like it when Obi-Wan leaves the car, even if it’s just to walk around the side of the car to the trunk.

So the food is in his nest and Obi-Wan is coping with that intrusion fairly well. There’d only been some light pouting about it before Anakin had offered to keep it beneath his feet, but that would be too dangerous to even really consider, and Obi-Wan had shut up. His alpha would just be stupid enough to try it, too, if he thought that’s what he really wanted.

But. Obi-Wan’s munching on a long piece of beef jerky like it’s a carrot, and he’s thinking about what sort of things he should be eating for the sake of the baby, when Anakin turns down the music and clears his throat.

At first, Obi-Wan thinks this is because this is his music hour, and Anakin is just tired of listening to it.

But the alpha is tapping nervous beats on the steering wheel, not in time with the song at all, and it makes Obi-Wan pay attention.

“So you never told me what this alpha was like,” Anakin says, staring straight ahead. “This...uh.”

“Set,” Obi-Wan supplies.

Anakin’s proud jaw flexes and he purses his lips as he changes lanes. No one’s coming from behind them and they’re not about to pass anyone, but Obi-Wan’s a terrible driver, so he’ll give Anakin the benefit of the doubt.

“Right,” the alpha says. “Set. You never told me what Set was like.”

Obi-Wan takes a bite of his jerky so he doesn’t have to respond right away.

The truth is, he doesn’t particularly remember what Set had been like, other than surprisingly eager to get into his pants. He’d smelt vaguely like leather and rain, but what in Seattle didn’t smell vaguely like rain?

He’d looked like Anakin in the low light of the bar. He’d had the same jaunt to his nose, the same thick eyebrows. Almost--but not quite--the same color of hair. He’d been an alpha who looked like Anakin but looked at Obi-Wan the way Anakin never would.

And that had made Obi-Wan indefensibly weak.

“Ah,” he says instead of saying any of this. “I…”

“Never mind,” Anakin decides just as suddenly as he’d spoken. “You don’t have to tell me. If you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” Obi-Wan trails off, unsure of how to continue. Anakin’s tense on the other side of the car, and his scent is heavy and everywhere. “It’s just that we didn’t....ah.” He clears his throat and looks out the passenger window. “We didn’t talk much.”

The car swerves just slightly. Anakin must be tired. They’ve been on the road for nine hours, with the frequent stops calculated in.

“I think we should stop soon for the night,” Obi-Wan proposes when Anakin makes no move to say anything else.

“You didn’t talk much?” is the alpha’s reply. The tone is unreadable.

Obi-Wan blinks, his hands finding their way to his belly as he looks over at his alpha. Unreadable usually means angry when it comes to Anakin, but Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why.

“You just...what, you just saw him across the room making drinks and that was enough? Skilled with his hands, was he?”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply. They’ve been friends for so many years that they’re comfortable enough around each other to make jokes about their sexual preferences and partners. But this isn’t a joke. This has teeth and Obi-Wan’s already feeling sensitive. “I just...I was lonely,” he mutters, turning his body away from the alpha. “He reminded me of something, I don’t know. He was sweet. And clever and he made it clear what he wanted.”

Anakin draws in a breath, but Obi-Wan doesn’t particularly want to hear anything else. “I want to be done for the day now,” he tells the alpha as a blue sign with the next exit’s hotel options flash by them. “Please stop at the next exit.”

For a second, Obi-Wan isn’t sure if Anakin will, but the alpha surprises him by slowing down and taking the exit.

It’s nothing special, the motel they find. Feeling a little bit angry and childish about it, Obi-Wan demands that Anakin stay in the car while he goes and gets them a room. His alpha’s nostrils flare as the tendons in his neck stand out, but he agrees.

Good. He can stink up the car with his pheromones while Obi-Wan gets things done. Typical alphas.

Despite what Anakin seems to think will happen if he lets Obi-Wan out of his sight for longer than five minutes, the attendant at the hotel gives him no trouble at all.

“And would you like a single or a double?” the woman asks, staring at her computer. Obi-Wan falters.

He wants to say double, because he thinks it’s necessary to reestablish lines and boundaries between himself and his al--the alpha. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Anakin, feels awful just thinking about it. He wants to say double, because they’re just two friends taking a road trip together. They can afford two separate beds.

He wants to say double.

“A single should be fine,” is what his mouth says instead.

The woman hums agreeably and keys two cards with the information. He finishes the transaction feeling as if he’s underwater. What has he done? The woman hands him the cards and he walks out of the lobby in a daze.

His alpha is already mad at him for reasons he doesn’t really understand. How mad will he be when he finds out that Obi-Wan couldn’t control his omega side again, and now he has to spend the night pressed up against him? Sure, they’ve done that before, for weeks now. But this is different. Anakin can’t just leave if he decides Obi-Wan’s become too clingy. He’d have to sleep in the car if he needed to go.

The thought pulls a distressed keen out of Obi-Wan’s throat, and he doesn’t have time to banish his anxiety from his scent before Anakin’s there. The man hadn’t even been waiting in the car where he’d left him. He’d been leaning against one of the pillars of the hotel’s entrance. Obi-Wan has the ridiculous mental image of Anakin slowly slinking closer while Obi-Wan was inside, getting out of the car to lean against the door, then moving to lean against the trunk, then to one of the columns that holds up the ceiling of the drive-in entrance. Then to the entrance itself when Obi-Wan was taking too long.

The thought makes him more distressed. Anakin is such a good, protective friend, and Obi-Wan is still taking advantage of it.

Anakin is quick to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan and pull him into his chest in the shade behind one of the potted plants just outside the sliding double doors. He sniffs at his neck and then runs his hands up and down his sides as if he’s afraid someone had pulled a knife on the pregnant omega in the ten minutes he’d been inside.

“What’s wrong, what happened,” Anakin murmurs, resting his hands on Obi-Wan’s tummy. “Did someone say something? Are you alright? Omega, Obi, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan sniffles, holding out the keys to their room. “They were…”

And then he lies. It’s about protecting himself, his child, he thinks. If Anakin leaves now, who will protect them both? He needs the alpha. More than that, he needs Anakin.

“They were out of double rooms,” he hears himself say. He grips at Anakin’s shirt with both of his hands and turns his wet eyes upward. He needs to keep Anakin looking at him and not at the mostly deserted parking lot. And Anakin’s the type of alpha who would drop anything to help a distressed omega. That’s always been Obi-Wan’s experience, at least.

“Are you…” Anakin furrows his brow and strokes over Obi-Wan’s tummy again. He’s had a fascination with it since the beginning of the pregnancy. “Are you upset you have to share a bed with me?”

“No!” Obi-Wan gasps, offended that that’s even the conclusion Anakin has drawn. “Of course not! I just...I’m sorry you don’t get the choice….” He falls silent when Anakin pushes his thumb against his lips.

“Obi, it’s alright, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind, I really don’t. We’ve shared beds for years now. Why would this be any different?”

Obi-Wan pouts against Anakin’s finger, and the alpha graciously removes it. “Because...you wouldn’t be able to leave and sleep somewhere else if I’m…” he wants to say too much, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that won’t make Anakin say something he doesn’t mean out of sympathy for him,

“Didn’t we go over this already?” Anakin murmurs, petting his hair and making Obi-Wan look him in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Omega.”

It feels as if Anakin’s slipped in a bit of Alpha command, what with the way Obi-Wan’s body reacts to this. But what would the command even be?

“Let’s go get our stuff for the night, yeah?” his alpha says. “We can get the bed all set up in a nice nest, take a nap, and then find somewhere to eat. Are you craving anything in particular?”

Obi-Wan thinks about it as Anakin grabs his hand and leads him back to the car. Anakin takes out both their suitcases, but won’t even let Obi-Wan wheel one in.

He’s given the bag of snacks to carry instead, along with Anakin’s college sweatshirt.

“Pancakes,” he decides. “I really want pancakes.”

“Then that’s that,” Anakin smiles down at him. “Nest, then nap, then pancakes for the omega.”

“And the baby,” Obi-Wan says, framing his stomach with both hands.

Something dark flashes across Anakin’s eyes, but it’s gone before he can get a read on it. It hadn’t been anger though, he knows that for sure.

“And the baby,” Anakin agrees.

#asks #roadtrip au #squick tag: a/b/o #squick tag: mpreg #obikin #meanwhile of course anakin is just struggling with the fact that this guy got to sleep with obi-wan #after just standing and making drinks and they apparently hardly even talked???#absolutely unfair #awful #anakins trying his best to be understanding and not act like a friendzoned alpha #but its very painful

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

Text

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to.

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖

Happy New Year, everyone.

(MASTERLIST)

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #my hero academia #bakugou #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #it's new years eeeeeeve and i am not #spending it with him #sigh #;.;

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kookingtae · 4 years ago

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the equation of love (pt. 10)

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt. 10

professor yoongi x uni student reader

→scenario: When you met Yoongi in a club, you thought it was fate that brought the two of you together. But after you walked into your college math class for the very first time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

→genre: smut | fluff | angst

→word count: 10.5k

→a/n: alternatively: fuck it, it’s been five years and this wip has been staring at me for three of them, so im just gonna post it. i have not read this over since 2018, so pls dont judge me too harshly hhsdg it’s unedited and probably a bit cringy, but then again what ch of teol isnt? this is NOT all that i have planned for the series, but i figured something is better than nothing, right? and perhaps the saying better later than never applies here, too. maybe one day i’ll finally get around to finishing it (by then im sure no one will even be around to remember what teol is lmao) but until then, enjoy what ive been sitting on! and as always, if you’re still here, thank you for your endless patience and support with this series <3

→another a/n: after this will probably be an epilogue!

→tw: mentions of blackmail, r*pe and sexual assault (we mostly just get closure on the whole professor lee & jun situation!!)

→warning: this chapter is not a happy ending, but it’s not necessarily a BAD one either, so for those who don’t like to finish on an unhappy note, it’s up to you on whether you’d like to read it or wait for the epilogue to be posted!

Running water.

It was such a simple yet fascinating concept—atoms and molecules coming together to form the only substance on earth that has a natural state in all forms, while having the power to kill in three different ways. Solid, by hypothermia; liquid, by drowning; gas, by suffocation. This substance can take three different forms, yet it's most commonly a liquid, covering nearly 71% of the world with translucent bodies of water. Oceans, ponds, lakes—though the most enchanting of them all were rivers. They were always moving, crashing beyond rocks and bustling with the flow of the current and gravitational pull of the earth. Rivers were passionate, and strong, and no matter how hard one tried they couldn't break the whipping tide that was pushing against them. Nothing could cause the powerful force to falter.

But, like most things, even rivers must come to an end. The current stops flowing, and the waves stop breaking around the jagged rocks, and the powerful force that seemed it would never end dulls to a still, calm lull, as if the river was nothing more than a brief yet raging storm. All the passion, all the fight—over in a blink of an eye, left to dissipate into the mysteries of the vast ocean.

Staring down at the picture on the cell phone screen in front of me was like getting pulled by the current of a river; down, down, down I flowed until there was no river left around me and I was left stranded in the middle of the sea. Yoongi and I were once raging, and passionate, and ready to fight against anyone who tried to tear us down, but now the fight was over. We had been dragged too far, fading into a body of water that was not our own. This was bigger than us.

Yes, like the flow of a river, all things must come to an end.

"That's it," Yoongi gritted his teeth, and I felt the dip of the mattress beneath me as he rose to his feet in anger.

"Yoongi," I called his name in a warning tone, warily standing up from the bed and watching him move around the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm over it," he said, hastily throwing the first articles of clothing he could grab from his drawers over his body. "I'm done dealing with all of this, Y/N! I'm going up to the school."

Despite the flare of determination that sparked in my heart at his words, his rage seeming to radiate off of him and onto me as well, I couldn't help the trepidation that I was also filled with; Yoongi didn't have a history of making rational decisions out of anger.

"Don't you think you should calm down first?" I offered, trying my best to match his pace around the room.

"No!" Yoongi suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me, his eyes wild and crazed. "I'm going to find her and I'm going to fucking kill her!"

I could only stand with a gaping mouth and watch as he stormed out of the room, leaving me with no choice but to pull on my old clothes and chase his stomping foot steps. He grabbed his keys before storming out of the apartment, down the stairs, and outside into the parking lot. I tried to ignore the blindingly bright sunlight as I squinted my eyes and continued after him.

"Follow me up to the school," Yoongi barked as he hopped into his car.

"Yoongi–" I started, but my consoling voice was cut off by the slam of his door. I frowned, scrambling to unlock my vehicle as his engine roared to life.

The drive to the university was a nerve-wracking one. I kept a watchful eye on Yoongi to make sure he wasn't speeding or swerving all over the road; they say you're not supposed to operate a vehicle while you're upset. Though it would seem my efforts were futile, because he did in fact speed and swerve, and all I could do was frown and try to keep up.

It wasn't that I wasn't angered by Professor Lee; I was furious, rage and disgust and frustration all stewing inside of me like a pot of water that was ready to boil over. But I just couldn't help but worry for Yoongi. I had always been the non-confrontational type, always hoping that with a little time things would get better if they were ignored long enough. But it would seem that my method was proven inefficient today, because as much as I had tried to ignore her antics, that wicked woman wouldn't stop at anything to make sure Yoongi and I were properly dragged through the mud and going down like a ship engulfed in flames. Yet as much as that angered me, I couldn't bare the thought of the turmoil it was causing Yoongi. I didn't know when I had started casting my own feelings aside and putting his above—it was a gradual thing rather than one, defining moment—but it was only another factor that proved how much I actually loved this man. And that very thought instilled a fear that shook me to the very bone.

We had a lot more to lose now than just his job and my education. We could be losing us. And that was more important now than it had ever been before.

Once we arrived at the university there were a lot of screeching brakes, messy parking and fumbling hands as I scrambled to catch up to his looming figure that seemed to stalk towards the building at an unnatural pace. The pounding of my heavy heartbeat was what drove me forward, anxiety rising with each quickened step that I took.

"Yoongi!" I yelled once I had lessened the distance between us, now dead center on the campus sidewalk. "Yoongi, wait!"

All of a sudden he whirled around, his abrupt halt causing me to crash straight into his chest. I let out a yelp in surprise, eyes wide and ready to interrogate him, before I felt the smooth curvature of his palms on either side of my face as he tilted my head up to his and slammed his mouth onto mine.

The world stopped spinning for a moment, everything around me fading into the motions of his plush skin, his soft lips exploding with flavor and spilling over my tastebuds, satisfying my thirst in a way that no water ever could. I didn't even question it for a second before I was melting into him, quite literally becoming putty in his hands as the rest of the world instantaneously escaped my mind.

It's funny the way that worked—the way he was able to completely erase everything that had once existed in the blink of an eye, just by his simple touch. Whether it was magic, or I was just that fucking whipped, I didn't know. But either way, I didn't possess the power to stop it even if I wanted to.

When Yoongi finally broke away, he was breathing heavily, his breath fanning across my face in cool puffs of air. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore," he spoke onto my lips, his forehead pressing against mine with a firm force. "Let them see. The only thing I care about is you."

It was then that I was suddenly aware of our surroundings, the reality of our world crashing down around me as I glanced around at all the eyes watching us. It varied; there were those choosing to spare us a glance as they walked to and from their classes, those who stalled their current actions to lift their heads to us not once, not twice, but three times, and then there were those who stopped altogether, their widened eyes and slackened jaws dead giveaways that they knew exactly who Yoongi was: Professor Min, Algebra 101 instructor.

A stroke of his thumb across my cheek brought my attention back to him; I stared up into his eyes, the desperate look in them captivating me and making it impossible to look away. His chest was rising and falling beneath his shirt, his fingers were grappling at my face as he brushed my wisps of hair out of the way, silently begging me to understand, to agree with him.

And in that moment, I knew what I had to do.

My lungs were filled with a breath of newfound determination, dazed and driven by Yoongi's words and embrace. "I love you," I spoke with conviction, caressing the nape of his neck as if to give him more reassurance. "Let's go.”

With that I grabbed his hand, holding my head high for the rest of the campus to see as I started up Yoongi's stride towards the school's building. He was right beside me, weaving his fingers through mine and giving my hand an extra squeeze as if to say that he was here, that he was proud to let the world know that I was his and he was mine, and that he wasn't going anywhere.

We were going to take down Professor Lee.

The seminar room was empty of students when we stormed in. Seats were placed throughout the floor, papers were scattered on the desks, and Professor Lee was at the front of the room, fiddling with the cords from the projector screen.

At the sound of the door opening, her head snapped up. "Well well well, look what we have here," she smirked when she saw us, making no plans to move as she saw me marching over to her. "You know, I really don't think–"

Slap!

The impact of my palm to her face cut off her words, skin on skin contact crackling through the room and echoing into a deafening silence.

Professor Lee gasped, immediately grasping where a red mark was now forming on her cheek before looking up at me with wild eyes. "You just slapped me!" She cried in disbelief.

"You're damn right I did," I gritted my teeth, taking a threatening step towards her and raising my palm. "Want me to do it again?"

It was then that I felt Yoongi's hand on my back, the feeling having an instant calming effect over my senses whether he wanted it to or not. I sighed before visibly relaxing and lowering my hand.

"You're barbaric!" Professor Lee was foaming at the mouth, still holding her face with a slack jaw. "Are you forgetting that I'm a professor? When Dr. Kim finds out about this, I swear he'll–"

"Tell him!" I roared as loud as my vocal chords would let me. "Tell whoever, tell the whole world, I don't fucking care! I'm done with your bullshit, you selfish psychotic witch!"

With that I gave her one final shove against her shoulders, and when both of her hands flew out to grab ahold her surroundings in an effort to keep from falling over, I planted another slap right across her face. The impact stung my hand, but I didn't care. Seeing Professor Lee stumble through the air was worth it.

"Baby," Yoongi spoke in a gentle yet warning tone next to me, and I had almost forgotten he was there until I felt his grip slightly tighten around my waist. It was a comforting hold, as if to say he completely trusted and supported whatever I chose to do in this situation, but still a protective hold nonetheless. He wanted to make sure I wasn't going to get myself hurt.

"You know, what is your problem, exactly?" I tilted my head at her as she struggled to get her bearings straight. "Is there an actual reason you're doing all of this, or are you just mentally insane?"

"It–it's not right!" Professor Lee stuttered with wide eyes, raising a shaky finger to point at me and Yoongi. "Your relationship, it's–"

"Oh cut the bullshit, Sara," Yoongi let out a sound of disgust from beside me. "We all know that's not why."

"I... I..." she stumbled for words, wide eyes glancing back and forth between the two of us. "Who do you guys think you are? You can't just storm in here and start attacking me–"

I took a menacing step forward, pure rage making up for what I lacked in intimidation. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I fumed, reaching out to grab her again.

"No, please!" She suddenly cowered before I could get to her, shielding her head away from me with her arms. "I—Yoongi, I'm in love with you!"

Her confession sent me reeling backwards in a downwards spiral, my body instantly going limp as I watched her with a dumbfounded expression. A vast silence echoed throughout the room that could be cut with a knife before she finally spoke again.

"Ever since you started working here, I knew you were the one. I just knew it." Her voice was sad, exhausted now, and a look of defeat washed over her features.

"What?" Yoongi gaped in disbelief. "Sara, that was two years ago!"

"I know!" She spat harshly. "You don't think I know that? For two years, I had to deal with this silly crush I had on you. I had to spend every day with you, watching it bloom into love overtime, and there was nothing I could do about it."

"You could've just told me!" Yoongi exclaimed as if that was the obvious answer.

Professor Lee snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, and be made a fool of? No thanks." She lowered her eyes to the ground.

"Sara, we're grown adults. You could've acted like one and fucking said something to me about it, made a move, anything but drag my career under the bus!" Yoongi's voice was strained now, his eyes wide as if silently begging her to understand him while he was equally trying to understand her.

"I was going to!" She lashed out again while whipping her head up towards him. "I was working up the courage to ask you out on a date, and then I see that fucking slut on your lap and I–"

"Don't you dare call Y/N that," Yoongi suddenly growled, pushing past me and stepping towards her intimidatingly. "One more thing out of your mouth about her and I swear to god I will kill you right here, right now."

My breath hitched in my throat at his threat and I couldn't help but weave my arm around his to grab his hand, intertwining our fingers and squeezing tightly. He gripped mine back even tighter, as if he was desperately trying to latch onto whatever calming effect I seemed to have over him.

Professor Lee swallowed, choosing to stay silent and watch him carefully as jagged breaths rose and fell from her chest. "The point is," she continued on, "I saw you with someone else—someone who wasn't me. And that completely tore my heart to shreds."

"So the only solution is to ruin our lives," I chimed in sarcastically.

"I may not have gone about it the best way," she quickly gritted her teeth and shot me a glare before turning her attention back to Yoongi, "but I had to act on instinct. I still wanted to be with you, so I figured that maybe if I split the two of you up, you would have no one else to turn to but me."

Yoongi just stared at her, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. "Do you know how sick and twisted that is?" He asked.

"All I ever wanted was to be with you, Yoongi," she pleaded, her tone vulnerable now as she took a tentative step towards him and started to raise her hand up to caress his cheek. "I still do. It's not too late; we can leave now, just you and me and forget this whole thing–"

"Don't fucking touch me," he knocked her hand away with his forearm just before it could reach his face. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, you're even crazier than I thought." He then stepped back to wrap his arm around my waist and pull me securely into his side. "I'm in love with Y/N, and I don't give a shit what rumors you or anyone else wants to spread about it. You're fucking pathetic."

At that moment there was the sound of a door bursting open, causing the three of us to turn our attention to the entrance of the room. There, standing in the doorway, was Dr. Kim.

The sight of him immediately deflated the elation I was feeling from Yoongi's words, instantly replacing them with a sense of anxiety and fear that lodged its way into my throat until I was sure I would die from suffocation. This was it; according to the text from Professor Lee, he had already seen the picture of me and Yoongi kissing. This was the moment that would decide our future forever.

I just hoped we had enough evidence against Professor Lee for him to take our side.

"So let me get this straight." Dr. Kim folded his hands on the dark oak wood of his office desk. "Professor Min and Y/N had relations before Y/N became a student here, while Yoongi was unaware of her age?"

"Yes sir," Yoongi nodded his head in assurance.

"And then you continued your relationship, even after finding out that she was your student."

"He didn't at first," I interjected in hopes of getting some of the heat off of Yoongi. "He tried to call it off, but I kept pushing it. The reason we got back together during school was my fault, not his."

Yoongi's eyes met mine from the chair next to me, his gaze seeming to hold the words that silently spoke that's not true, and I instantly knew what he was thinking. In actuality, he had been the one to give me after-school tutoring on that Saturday during the homecoming football game, not I. He had been the one to kiss me first that day. But there was no way in hell I would ever tell that to the dean.

"I don't care whose fault it is; all that matters is that it happened," Dr. Kim frowned. "And it's still happening if I'm not mistaken, correct?"

"I... um," my eyes flickered to Yoongi, every fiber of my being starting to fill with panic. Shit, we should've discussed this beforehand. I wasn't going to willingly rat Yoongi out, no matter how many times he's said he didn't care anymore if people knew about us.

Suddenly I felt the warm, soft sensation of skin wrapping around the curvature of my hand that was resting atop the wooden armrest. "Yes, it's still happening," Yoongi spoke, and then his fingers were intertwining with mine.

I practically choked on my own spit at his words; did this boy have a death wish? A cough came sputtering out of my lungs, the sound causing everyone in the room to look at me until I'd settled down. Even Professor Lee leaned forward from her seat on the other side of Yoongi, bewilderment written all over her expression as she gave me a look of disgust.

"Well there's your proof right there." She threw her hands up in defeat before gesturing to the two of us. "What more do you need? Expel them, Dr. Kim."

"B–but that's not it!" I suddenly exclaimed and lurched forward, feeling the heat of everyone's stare on our embraced hands, which in turn only made me grip him even harder for support. "Dr. Kim, you have to believe me when I tell you that Professor Lee has worked hard to make my life a living hell ever since I got to this school. She had a vendetta against me; she's in love with Yoongi, and so she–"

"That's not true!" Professor Lee screeched.

"She worked to turn people against us rather than coming to you because she wanted to blackmail Yoongi into being with her," I ignored her interjection and continued. "She even made a seminar about it—the mandatory seminar that everyone attended today!"

The dean turned his attention towards her. "The seminar about the importance of practicing safe sex?" He questioned in bewilderment.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head at his words; that's what she was telling everyone it was about?

"It was!" She scrambled in defense. "I mean I... I may have brought up Yoongi and Y/N as an example, but that's only because they fit the part! Y/N had a pregnancy scare not too long ago, and I didn't want the same thing to happen to our students!"

I felt the color draining from my face, blanching it a stone cold white and decimating any feeling I had left in my body.

How the fuck did she know about the pregnancy?

My head instantly whipped towards Yoongi to see if he had any logical explanation for this, and his face was as poised and stoic as ever in front of his two colleagues—but I could see through it. I knew him well enough to catch onto the slightest falter in his blinking, the increase in heat that collected between our palms, the small twitch of his mouth that would've gone unnoticed by anyone else who observed him. I knew there was no way he could've told Professor Lee about the pregnancy, because he was just as blindsided as I was.

Dr. Kim simply raised his eyebrows in interest before turning back to Yoongi and me.

"Dr. Kim," Yoongi spoke, his voice dripping with amusement, "I mean no disrespect, but do you honestly think that if Y/N had a pregnancy scare, we would tell Sara about it? Come on; not after all she did to us."

"They—they didn't tell me!" Professor Lee huffed out a desperate breath. "I overheard them while I was–"

"While you were what?" I interrupted with a raise of my eyebrow. "While you were spying on us to find any blackmail you could use on Yoongi?"

"N–no!" She stuttered, though at this point it was obvious that she was making up lies on the spot. "While I was walking past the classroom!"

"Why would we be talking about that with the door open?!"

"Enough!" Dr. Kim barked, his deep voice rumbling throughout the small office. We all grew silent as we turned our attention to him. "There will be no arguing of he said/she said in my office," he scolded, then turned his attention to Yoongi before speaking. "I understand that there was someone you wanted me to see?"

Yoongi, who had remained calm during all of this, simply nodded his head before releasing my hand. "Yes, sir," he said as he stood up and walked towards the door.

My eyebrows were knitted in confusion as I watched it all transpire: the words exchanged between the two men, Yoongi rising out of his seat, the sight of my biology professor being revealed behind the closed door. The whole thing came as a surprise to me, and my emotions seemed to be having a war between the shock and relief that I felt raging like a storm in the pit of my stomach.

Why didn't Yoongi tell me about Professor Park being involved in this discussion? When did he have time to ask her to come? Did it even matter at this point?

"Professor Park," Dr. Kim widened his eyes, his frame physically reclining back in his seat. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"As am I to be here," she smiled though her voice was venomous, eyes flashing to a very alarmed Professor Lee.

"Mia?!" The woman barked in disbelief at her friend's entrance. "What are you doing here?"

"Something I should've done a long time ago," Professor Park replied, and with that she turned towards the dean and opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm here to testify on the behalf of Min Yoongi and Y/N."

Earth-shattering elation rippled through me from the inside out, starting at the base of my toes and spiraling to the top of my head and the tips of my fingers, causing them to tingle and buzz with a newfound sense of hope. We might actually have a chance!

"What?!" Professor Lee's voice ripped through the air in a deafening screech. "This isn't a court case! You don't get to play witness!"

"Actually, if Professor Park has witnessed anything, I would definitely like to know," Dr. Kim chimed in, raising an eyebrow towards my biology professor.

Professor Park nodded her head towards him in appreciation before speaking. "A few months ago Sara approached me in my classroom to tell me about the nasty rumors that were surrounding her and a student. She singled the student out, saying to purposely damage their grades because they were treating her unfairly and disrespecting her rules and authority as a professor; she even went so far as to say that they were sending her death threats"

"What?!" The word ripped from my throat faster than I could blink as I stared jaw-dropped at the women in the room.

"That's not true!" Professor Lee instantly protested as expected. "Sir, I can assure you that I never–"

"I have the text messages if you want," Professor Park offered in a tone so nonchalant one would've thought she was conversing about the weather.

Dr. Kim raised an eyebrow. "Text messages? I thought you said she came by your class?"

"She did, sir." Mia interlaced her fingers in front of her and bowed her head politely. "We spoke about it on multiple occasions. I asked why she wouldn't just go to you, or even the authorities if the student was making death threats, but Sara was adamant. She didn't want any scandals revolving around her so that she could maintain the level of professionalism that she had developed here."

I heard a snort coming from next to me, and it was with a swollen heart of pride that I realized the sound came from Yoongi trying to hold in a laugh.

Professionalism? Her? I had never heard anything so far fetched in my life.

Sara simply glared as Mia ignored him and continued. "She assured me that the best way to deal with this pesky student was to slowly start to fail them, and I'll admit, I was angry for her. Sara was my friend, and I respected her enough to believe what she was telling me and follow her requests." She turned her head to where I sat on the other side of Yoongi. "That student was you, Y/N. And I just wanted to say that I am so sorry for the way I handled things. You were treated unfairly and poorly due to false information."

"It wasn't false!" Professor Lee jumped in to defend herself, but everyone was pretty much ignoring her. Even the dean could tell she was playing the part of the boy who cried wolf at this point.

"I'd like to see those text messages, if you don't mind." Dr. Kim reached his hand out expectantly.

There was a brief moment of silence while Professor Park nodded and tapped away on her phone before handing it to him. His cold and calculated eyes scanned the screen while saying nothing, all three of us waiting with bated breath for him to come to a decision in his mind.

There was no where left for her to run. With these text messages, all the constant denying that Professor Lee has done will be proven false and she will be exposed for all the hell she's put me through this semester. My heart was practically bursting at the thought.

"Well I would've appreciated it if you ladies had come to me with this information instead of handling it amongst yourselves, true or not," Dr. Kim finally sighed before giving Sara his full attention. "Ms. Lee, you have three people accusing you. Even if you didn't do it, there's obviously something that's turning them against you. And here at this university we strive to hold cooperation and communication above all else. If you don't get along with the fellow staff here, then why should I believe that they're the problem and not you?"

"Um, because Min Yoongi is fucking his student?!" Professor Lee was fuming now, her upper body lurching forward in her seat and her hands gripping the arm rests for dear life. "He literally just admitted to it!"

"Language, Ms. Lee," Dr. Kim scolded calmly. "I still like to maintain a professional attitude here in my office."

"I apologize sir, but that's beside the point." She was sitting back in her seat now, though her tone was no less frantic. "Min Yoongi is in a relationship with his student, and staff cooperation or not, I don't really think that's in the teacher handbook." She raised a snarky eyebrow at us as if believing that she had finally won.

I knitted my eyebrows, my palms feeling slick with a nervous sweat against Yoongi's as I realized the bigger problem here. It wasn't whatever lies and schemes Professor Lee had cooked up with my biology teacher; it wasn't even Professor Lee herself. It was the fact that Yoongi and I were in a relationship, and that was going to have enough consequences alone to shake me to my very core with fear.

"She's right," Dr. Kim uttered the words that I was silently hoping he wouldn't say, my grip tightening on Yoongi as I anticipated whatever outcome he's decided. Our fate was in his hands.

"Of course I am." Professor Lee crossed her arms and sat back in her seat with a smug grin.

"I'm afraid I have no choice." He was shaking his head, frowning at us apologetically though the sentiment didn't reach his eyes. "Mr. Min, I am sorry to inform you that you will have to be forced to resign from our university."

The color instantly drained from my face, and with it pulling all five senses that I have into the depths of the earth until I couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't speak—I could barely even breathe. There was a lump that was forming in my throat and settling deep within my gut, all of this feeling fake, too fake to be real.

Yoongi was fired, and it was all because of me.

"I understand, sir."

It was Yoongi's words that were pulling me from my fog of disbelief and devastation, my eyes blinking in an effort to snap back to reality as I looked from him to the dean. "No. No, there has to be something we can do, please!" I begged, my voice starting to get frantic the more the severity of the situation hit me. "I–I'll drop out! You don't have to worry about me ever coming near here again, just please, please don't fire him!"

"Y/N..." Yoongi's voice was quiet and full of resignation, defeat, but I wasn't giving up.

"Yoongi is an amazing professor who has worked here for, what, two years? He's extraordinary at what he does and students love him. It's not easy to find a professor like that everyday." I was staring into the eyes of the dean now, trying to move him with my words. "You shouldn't throw away someone as great as him just because of some stupid 18 year old's mistake! Please, Dr Kim." I leaned forward in my seat, the room silent as I spoke. "He wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. Please, let me suffer the consequences, not him."

I continued to stare in Dr. Kim's eyes, silently channeling my emotions through the pleading expression in my eyes, and it wasn't until I felt a comforting hand on my back that I was instantly drawn away into a more calm state in my chair. I gazed over at the owner of the hand, and he flashed back that smile I loved except it was sad, and it didn't reach his eyes, and I could tell there was so much he wanted to say to me right now if we weren't in the confinement of his boss' office.

"I understand your efforts, Y/N, but there's nothing I can do." Dr. Kim shook his head, and it was as if the world around me was shattering into blades of glass, scraping at my skin and leaving bloody wounds that I knew would never heal. "Mr. Min was involved in this relationship as well, and no matter whose fault it is, the professor needs to be held accountable. There is a level of professionalism and maturity that he must possess in order to work here; he's your superior, a respectable authority figure, and so he should've known better."

It was all I could do to keep from crying as I lowered my eyes and shook my head, every inch of my heart breaking for Yoongi until all that was left were tiny fragments to scatter in the wind. I couldn't believe I'd done this to him. The very thing he'd been worried about from the start—I had ruined his career.

"It is our goal as a university to see our students succeed," he continued, though I could barely hear a thing. "As for you, Y/N, I see no reason as to why you shouldn't keep attending this university."

I blinked a few times, confused. "You want me to... what?"

"You will have a suspension on your student records, mind you, and one more of those will lead to expulsion," he explained. "Though that doesn't mean that you can't keep going to school here. You will have to meet with an advisor every two weeks, though, who will be keeping a close watch on your behavior."

I could barely even believe my ears; had my hearing been completely lost due to the shock of the situation? "That's totally a double standard!" I gestured to Yoongi in disbelief.

"Y/N, it's okay..." Yoongi tried to calm me down.

"No, it's not okay!" I roared, eyes wide and brows furrowed in disbelief as I glanced at him before turning back to the dean. "Where do you think you can get off by treating people like this? This is his career—his life!"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Y/N," Dr. Kim bellowed in a stern voice as he frowned. "I'm doing you a favor here by letting you continue your education. Speak out against me one more time and I will be revoking that offer."

His words were deafening throughout the office; it was suddenly understandable why he was so feared by those who worked under him. Yoongi started to run his hand along my spine in a soothing manner, and though it helped relax my fiery nerves and clear my foggy mind, I was still just as upset—if not more, now that the information was beginning to settle in.

"So that's it then?" Professor Lee spoke for the first time in a while, her lips pressed into a firm line, obviously disappointed by the turn of events though she didn't dare to speak out against Dr. Kim as he had warned. "Yoongi gets fired and Y/N gets a free ride?"

"Not so fast, Ms. Lee." The dean turned to her. "What you did was beyond unprofessional. You violated several school policies as well as bullied a student! Do you think that type of behavior is acceptable as a professor?"

Professor Lee opened her mouth as if to protest before slowly shutting it again, realizing that she had nothing left that she hadn't already denied. It was obvious that the evidence given to him by Professor Park, who stood silent in the corner of the room, was incriminating enough to sway his decision.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you that you will be fired as well."

"What?!" Her shrill voice screeched through the air, tearing whatever I had left of my eardrums and rendering me deaf here in this office. "What I did was no where near as bad as Yoongi and Y/N!"

"If anything, it was worse." Dr. Kim folded his hands over his desk. "Let's not forget that you managed to involve the entire student body in a false seminar that maliciously exposed one of our students and professors," he raised an eyebrow at her, "and that was just today."

"Yeah, not to mention all the other shit you did behind my back to make my life a living hell," I couldn't help from interjecting in a heated tone, though I backed off upon seeing the dean's stern gaze.

He redirected his attention back to Sara. "Here at this university, we strive to have a professional relationship, safe environment, and healthy lifestyle for our students. Neither of you achieved those three goals, so both of you will have to be let go."

Yoongi's expression simply remained placid and free of any emotion while Professor Lee's reaction was practically visceral, though neither spoke a word as heavy silence fell over the small office.

"Am I... am I still needed, sir?" It was Professor Park whose voice broke through the tension, everyone having forgotten she was there in the midst of the emotion-filled chaos. "Because if not, then I'm going to go."

"No, I'm just about finished here." Dr. Kim let out a sigh, as if what just transpired had been hard on him out of all people in the room. My blood boiled just looking at him, though I know I had to learn when to speak out and when to bite my tongue as Yoongi had taught me.

"Dr. Kim, is there any way you can reconsi–"

"That will be enough from you, Ms. Lee," his booming voice interrupted the frantic professor. "I've said all that I need to say on the matter. I'm not changing my mind."

"Dr. Kim?" I spoke up just as Professor Lee and Professor Park were getting ready to walk out the door. "I–I have something else to tell you. Un-related to this," I threw in when I saw him throw a glance in Lee's direction.

The man sighed before waving them out, leaving his office empty of visitors other than me and Yoongi in the chairs. I wasn't going to let that boy go anywhere.

"Y/N, I'm sorry that the outcome isn't exactly what you wanted but I'm afraid there's nothing I can–"

"Choi Junwoo tried to rape me," I blurted out.

There was a moment's pause as the dean was stunned silent with wide eyes, and out of my peripheral vision I could see Yoongi tense up and inhale sharply next to me.

"W–what–"

"Choi Junwoo," I spoke slowly for him so that he'd understand, "a student here at this university, tried to rape me at a frat party."

I couldn't leave the office without saying it. I couldn't leave the office without telling him. This wasn't just about me or the turmoil or trauma he caused; this was for every other girl in the future who might be a victim of Jun. Though in my heart I truthfully believed he was a good person, and that he really was just intoxicated beyond belief that night, it was still no excuse. If he had rape-tendencies while he was drunk and I didn't speak out about it, then I would be no better when it came to helping other sexual assault victims.

"Are you sure–"

"I found them at the party while he was mid-act," Yoongi jumped in, probably figuring he was already fired so there was nothing left for him to lose when it came to revealing details about our relationship outside of school. "It was... disgusting. I got her out of there immediately, but not before punching that bastard in the face."

"Metaphorically, of course!" I couldn't help but chime in, not wanting an assault charge to be on his record as well.

Thankfully Dr. Kim simply brushed off that minuet detail in favor for the more important issue at hand. "Y/N, what you're telling me will ruin this student's future. Are you absolutely sure you want to file this?"

Despite the anger that swelled up inside of me from him questioning my accusation, I still couldn't help the little trickle of doubt that crept in as I considered his words. At one point, Jun had been a friend... maybe even a potential lover had Yoongi not been in the picture. Dr. Kim was right, this information could potentially ruin his reputation, his education, his record... was I ready to carry the weight of knowledge that I've ruined someone's life forever?

"What are you talking about? Of course!" Yoongi spat an answer before I even had a chance to finish my thoughts. "She told you what happened, didn't she? Why would she speak out about something like this if she was making it up?"

"Maybe a personal vendetta?" The dean shrugged his shoulders. "People will do crazy things for revenge."

Now that got me heated. "The only one who wanted revenge here was Junwoo!" I stood up from my seat to yell. "He liked me and was mad that I turned him down. As if I owed my feelings to him or something! And when I told him no, he forced himself on me?! Is that really the type of message you want to send at this college? You know, since you're so high and mighty on "cooperation"," I did air quotes of sarcasm around my last words, my ears practically steaming with boiling rage.

"We will come out about this story, by the way," Yoongi added in, his voice full of venom. "And how will that look if you tried to keep us silent?"

"You can forget about me attending this university," I hissed.

"Alright, alright, settle down, the both of you," Dr. Kim lowered his hands in a calming manner. "I was not suggesting I buy your silence or anything of that nature. I was simply making sure you wanted to go through with this."

"Yes," Yoongi and I both answered in unison.

The dean nodded his head before clasping his hands together. "Alright."

The rest of the time in the office with spent filling on paperwork on a claim against Junwoo. I'd been given the option to be kept in the loop or even present when everything went down, though I politely declined. I wanted nothing more to do with that boy.

Though it would seem Professor Lee didn't share the same sentiment when it came to me, because as soon as soon as the two of us walked hand in hand into the hallway and Dr. Kim's door was securely shut, she sprung into action.

"You bitch!" She shrieked, not wasting another second as she leaped through the air and onto my body like a crouched tiger that was waiting for the right moment to attack. I felt the pressure of her weight against my chest and the sting of her nails scraping against my cheek, and before I knew it I was stumbling down, down onto the ground with another vicious blow to my jaw that was accompanied by her fist.

It all happened within a matter of seconds, but it wasn't long until I heard Yoongi yell Sara! and then her weight vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

All I could do was stare with wide eyes as Yoongi slammed her shoulders back against the wall, though it was the look in his eyes that caught my attention. I had seen that expression before.

He was about to throw a punch.

"Yoongi, stop!" I cried, summoning all the strength I possessed to push myself to my feet and stumble over to the pair.

Yoongi whipped his head towards me with exasperated, almost wild eyes and his brows knitted in confusion and disbelief. "Y/N, she attacked you!"

"She isn't worth it," I spoke firmly in an attempt to get through to him. "Yoongi, just let it go. She isn't worth the trouble anymore."

It was when I placed a soothing hand against his back that Yoongi finally sighed, his stance visibly relaxing and his hands dropping from Professor Lee's shoulders. "She's right," he spit in a low, venomous tone as he turned back to her and grit his teeth. "Thanks to Dr. Kim, you already got what you deserve."

"Yoongi," there were sudden sobs that were tearing through the hallway, and it took me a moment to realize that Professor Lee was now... crying.

"Yoongi," she continued as she clung onto his shoulders. "Yoongi, I loved you!"

Somewhere deep inside of me, past all the burning hatred for what this woman has done to my life out of pure jealousy, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for her. This was once me, heartbroken over the effects of unrequited love. Yoongi was a very sought-after man, I'd come to realize, and it wasn't about my feelings or Professor Lee's or anyone else's. It was about his.

"Sara," Yoongi sighed, and there was almost a wince in his tone from how hard he was trying to make her understand. "It's over."

"W–what?" The woman was scrambling now. "It doesn't have to be! We can go back to the way things were–"

"There never was a ‘we’!" He ripped her hands from his shoulders. "We were friends, and then you sabotaged my career and Y/N's education. You never once spoke out about your feelings, came forward, handled things like adults," he stressed the last line. "You never once did any of those things! Instead you belittled another woman and cost yourself your job all for a man—someone who until now, was your friend." Yoongi sighed again and shook his head. "I hope you get the help you need, Sara. I'm sure there is someone out there who will love you unconditionally... but that person is not me."

And with that, he put a gentle hand on my back and we walked away.

“Oh my god.”

Those were the first words out of my mouth the second we exited the building, my hands resting on my head in disbelief as I turned to Yoongi. “Holy shit, Yoongi–“

“Shhh,” he instantly consoled me, his arms engulfing me in a comforting hug and my face tucking underneath his chin as he held me close. “We did it, Y/N. It’s all over.”

I stayed in his embrace for a few moments as his words sunk in. It was all over. No more secrets, no more Professor Lee—no more anything.

“B–but your job...” I pulled away to look up at him with a shaky tone, my brows furrowed in concern. “Dr. Kim fired you, he–“

“I resigned, Y/N. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” I couldn’t help but look up at him with a hopeless expression.

Yoongi simply nodded his head, the picture of nonchalance as if his career hadn’t just changed forever. “Yes. If I had gotten fired, it would look terrible on my resumé should I apply for another teaching position. However, given the circumstances of our arrangement...” he paused, no doubt thinking of Professor Lee, “I suppose he decided to take it easy on us all.”

My shoulders deflated in relief. “Well thank god for that...” I sighed, not even wanting to think of what could’ve happened if Dr. Kim had given us the harshest punishment. In an ironic, twisted way, I suppose I have Professor Lee to thank for that. If she wouldn’t have made my life a living hell, it would’ve been that much worse if Dr. Kim ever found out on his own.

“But none of that even matters to me right now,” Yoongi suddenly snapped, and then in the time it took me to raise an questioning eyebrow he had already grabbed both sides of my face and rammed his lips into mine, the same as he did before we went inside to confront Professor Lee.

Only this time, the kiss was different. It didn’t hold promises and potential; it held freedom. It held the success of finally getting through everything by the skin of our teeth, the relief and the pride and the pure love that we have for each other after overcoming everything that we’ve been through together. I kissed him and I didn’t care who saw—because he wasn’t my professor anymore. There were no invisible chains that bounded us apart. It was just me and him sticking together against all odds. Never in my life did I think I would ever be a part of a relationship so committed, so passionate, so determined. He and I would never stop fighting for each other.

“I love you, Min Yoongi,” I murmured against his mouth with a grin on my features that was hard to disguise—especially when I felt the corners of his lips pull up into that gummy smile that I adored with all of my heart.

“God, I love you too, Y/N,” he replied back with a content sigh, and then he continued to kiss me on the busy campus sidewalk until we were both breathless and blue in the face.

Because we now had nothing to lose.

Despite finally being released from the clutches that school had on us, the days following the meeting with Dr. Kim were not easy.

Other than having to put on a fake smile and continue attending a university where practically everyone knew about my relationship with now-former Professor Min (my mother would never let me drop out—not that I could ever tell her the reason I'd want to, anyways), there were the stresses that Yoongi was dealing with of now being unemployed. And what with all but abandoning my dorm room to instead spend my nights with him at his apartment, it was impossible to not feel the weight of his problems on my shoulders as well. No matter how many times Yoongi tried to put up a façade and reassure me that he was okay, I couldn't help but feel like this was my fault.

"If I just never would've made you dance with me at that club..." I'd say at times, unable to keep from tracing back each and every one of our interactions and blaming myself.

"Cut that out," Yoongi would snap.

"What? It's true!"

"You know I don't like it when you talk like that!" He'd turn to me with a stern tone. "I don't regret anything that happened between us, okay? Not one single bit." There was a heavy silence as his words would hang in the air. "If you wouldn't have asked me to dance, then who knows if I ever would've worked up the courage to kiss you? And I wouldn't be here, sharing this bed with the love of my life."

"Aw, Yoongi..."

And the two of us would make love, again and again until we'd have a similar argument some time later and repeat the whole process all over again. I'd feel guilty, Yoongi would remind me of exactly how much he doesn't regret meeting me, and we'd get lost in each other's embrace.

That is, until a simple Sunday morning suddenly changed everything.

"I got it."

I casually peered over at the sound of him from my spot in the living room, sitting criss crossed on the couch in my pajamas with a laptop in my lap. "What?"

"The job." Yoongi's voice was low, serious as he stared at the paper in his hands that had previously been so carelessly disregarded on the kitchen island along with the Sunday paper. "At the university in Seoul."

"Wait." He had all of my attention now as I sat the laptop on the coffee table and rose to my feet. "Like the Seoul National University university?"

"Yeah," he let out a single chuckle of disbelief before he pressed the paper against the counter and turned to me. "I got the job."

"Oh my god, Yoongi!" I exclaimed with my own chuckle of disbelief before running forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. His arms immediately engulfed my waist and lifted me off the ground as we spun around in place, my lips instantly finding his in a searing kiss that was full of passion and excitement to match our current mood. "That's amazing!"

"I know," he replied as he placed me down. A tentative smile was frozen on his lips as he stared off into the distance before letting out another sound of disbelief, his head shaking before his palm slid down his face. "I can't believe it!"

"I'm so proud of you!" I mirrored the grin of pure elation on his features, my chest swelling with joy and relief and most of all, pride.

I was so, so proud of Yoongi. I knew how much his job meant to him, and the feeling of guilt that weighed down on me from knowing that I was the one who inadvertently took that away from him, that I was the one who inadvertently caused all this stress of job hunting was instantly lifted off my shoulders. I knew how much he wanted this. I knew how hard he had worked to get this job at such a prestigious school, and god damn it, I knew how much he deserved it. If Yoongi was anything, apart from being an amazing person and a wonderful lover, he was great at his job. He was a natural born teacher.

Though no matter how many times I've willingly showered him with endless compliments about his work, he'd blush sheepishly and simply swat away all of my words with a simple kiss, or an "if you don't shut up your food is going to get cold. We're unemployed now; we need all the nutrition we can get. Haven't you ever heard of the Great Depression?"

So instead, I just chose to beam at him while he basked in the euphoria of the moment that this job acceptance brought on. After all, I knew he was well aware of how proud of him I was and how supportive I'd always be when it came to anything he wanted to accomplish.

Though the bliss was short lived.

I watched as Yoongi's expression slowly fell, the smile on his face slipping into a deep frown and his eyes turning to stone. "No."

"What?" I furrowed my brows, concern filling me and etching onto my features as I cupped his cheek in my hand, trying to figure out why his mood had changed so suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not taking it." His tone was cold, definitive, as if the subject wasn't even up for debate as he grabbed the letter.

"Wait wait wait," I hurried to stop him from tearing it in half. "What are you talking about? Why not?"

He turned to look at me with cold, incredulous eyes, as if he couldn't believe I was even asking a question so stupid. "The university is in Seoul, Y/N."

"Okay...?" I shook my head in confusion, still not understanding what the issue was. "And?"

"I'd have to move." He was taking the paper back out of my hands and ripping it right down the middle before I got the chance to stop him.

I suddenly deflated, the severity of his words dropping in my stomach and wrapping around the anchor of my heart, sending it down, down, down through the floor of his apartment and hurdling towards the center of the earth.

"...What?"

"I'd have to move away from you."

And there is was, the bomb detonating an explosion and demolishing whatever was left of my heart.

"No... t–there has to be another way, there has to–"

"Seoul is hours away from here, Y/N," Yoongi barked out, his tone angry and harsh as it always was when he was upset. "It's on the other side of the country; there's no way I'd be able to commute without living there."

"Okay, so why did you apply then?" I couldn't help but snap back defensively. "You knew the distance to Seoul prior to applying for the job. Why even bother if you're just going to get pissed about not taking it?!"

"Because I didn't think I'd get accepted!" His voice was loud, almost yelling now. "It's the most sought after, prestigious school in the fucking country and I didn't think some young idiot who got fired from his last job would be able to get in!"

It was silent as his words settled over the atmosphere, clinging to the air that filled the room around us and encasing my lungs until it was impossible to breathe.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I finally hissed. "You're a great teacher, and you know it. If anyone's a young idiot here, it's me!"

Yoongi scoffed with a shake of his head. "I'm the one who kissed you again during that tutoring session after telling you to stay away. I'm the one who fucked you against that desk." His tone was low now, and his eyes seemed to grow harder in realization with each step that he took towards me. "I'm the one who asked to take you out on that fucking date and I'm the one who pulled you onto my lap when Sara caught us in my classroom! God damn it, I'm the one who tracked you down at a fucking frat party and punched one of my students!"

His voice slowly raised until he was yelling again, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was now standing chest to chest and cornering me up against the countertop of the island, I would've winced at the loud volume so close to my ears.

"Stop blaming yourself, Y/N, when I'm the one who was the authority figure. I'm the one who should've had my shit together, but I just couldn't around you!"

I felt myself soften at that. As angry and intimidating as he seemed right now, surely frightening whoever would come into contact with him when he was like this, I knew that it was all a front. Yoongi wasn't the best at dealing with emotional situations—he'd all but bite my head off any time I even tried to mention his father—and sometimes lashed out in anger when he was upset or hurting inside. I knew how badly he wanted this job; I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice when he'd first submitted the application. And now, when the career position of his dreams was finally right under his nose, he couldn't have it. Because I was holding him back.

"You have to take it." My voice was solemn and steady as I stared him in the eyes.

He instantly frowned. "What? No, I–"

"Yoongi."

He fell silent, all signs of anger and malice wiped from his features once he saw just how serious I was being. A soft, bittersweet smile that had nothing to do with happiness slowly tugged at my lips as my eyes gleamed with pain. My heart was breaking with every word I was speaking, but I knew it was something I needed to do.

"You have to take the job."

The silence that ensued my words only further proved my point, simultaneously stabbing a knife into my chest with each passing second. He knew I was right. He knew it. He just didn't want to hear it.

"You don't..." He sounded smaller, more pitiful and confused as he tried to make sense of what I was saying. "You don't want me to stay?"

The hurt, the sadness, the utter hopelessness in his voice absolutely crushed me. I couldn't help but fall into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his chest and squeezing tightly as if I could somehow hold the pieces of him together that I knew were breaking. The severity of what was happening, of what I was doing started to settle within me the moment I heard his voice break.

"I do, baby," I replied, the sound muffled by the skin of his neck that my face was buried in as a sob threatened to claw its way out of my throat and swallow me whole. "God, you know I do. But you can't."

"Y–you can come with me." He was shaking his head now, his hands gripping at the shirt on my back with closed fists while he desperately tried to hold onto me, as if I would disappear beneath him at any moment. "We can move together to Seoul and you can–"

"You know I can't, Yoongi." It was my turn to shake my head, and with it came a heavy tear that fell down my cheek. "I have to go to school. I have a family who's helping pay for my tuition, and my mom— you know it's not all up to me."

I heard him sniffle as he pulled away, and even though I felt no evidence of tears from him against my skin or my shirt, his eyes were bright red when he stared back at me.

"I'm not leaving you, Y/N."

The sheer determination in his voice had me shattering like broken glass. "I'm not letting you do this, Yoongi. I'm not letting you waste this opportunity. Do you know how many people are waiting to work at Seoul University? How many professors would kill to be in your position?" I kept my gaze steadily on his as I slowly shook my head. "I care about you... so fucking much. I've never loved someone so much before... not like this." I paused, asking myself one last time if this was really the decision I wanted to make as my words settled in. I took in the sight of his beautiful, breathtaking features silently begging me not to do this. "I'm putting you above my selfishness," I finally decided with another shake of my head. "You need to do this Yoongi, for you. You know you do."

Yoongi slowly shook his head, though the expression on his face told me he knew I was right. "I don't want to lose you," he spoke as a tear spilled over the brim of his eye, dampening his lashes and leaving a wet streak in its wake as it rolled down his cheek, and the sight was the final breaking point that had me bursting into tears.

"Neither do I."

His fingers dug into my skin as he tightened his grip on my body, his forehead leaning against mine as the only sounds exchanged between the two of us were the unspoken words of labored breaths and soft sobs.

Sometimes when you love someone, you have to do what's best for them.

And I knew this was what's best for Yoongi.

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #lmao why am i so impulsive #i decided i was gonna post this all of ten minutes ago and here we are #anyways this will help my peace of mind to know that at least SOMETHING is out there #some sort of closure to the series #not everything i had planned but #it'll do for now #i hope u guys can forgive me for whatever tf this is fjshgdkfd

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caiminnent · 3 years ago

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my demise, my downfall [kylux, rated M]

Summary: Hux had no idea that Ren, his bedmate and partner in crime, was actually Ben Organa-Solo, the sole heir of First Order's biggest rival in the industry.

He didn't know Ben had a girlfriend, either.

Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy

Tags: Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Use Your Words, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren isn't Much Better, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships

Notes: Photo by Mitchell Griest on Unsplash, cropped.

2.9K || Also on AO3

Hux wakes up to gentle caresses, a feather-light finger drawing unrecognisable shapes over his shoulders, down his back.

His eyes ache behind his eyelids, that didn’t-sleep-enough taste in his mouth. Torn between giving in to his body’s demands for rest and enjoying the soft touch while it lasts, he drifts on the edge of sleep and wakefulness, basking in the pleasant warmth.

Something rattles far behind him, jerking him fully awake. The touch withdraws.

Pushing his disappointment down, Hux takes a deep breath and rolls onto his back. Ren is sitting up in the middle of the bed with his legs stretched out, tapping away at his phone.

“Go back to sleep,” Ren says without looking, his tone sleep-gruff. “’s not morning yet.”

“Why are you awake, then?” Hux mumbles, though he doesn’t particularly care about the answer. A short night wasn’t enough to make up for six weeks of absence; Hux won’t be settled without at least a few more hours of sleep, another round and brunch.

Thank fuck it’s Sunday.

Ren doesn’t respond, focused on whatever he’s doing on his phone. Stretching languidly on the bed, “Come back here, Ren,” Hux purrs, kicking the covers away in the process. Ren’s eyes latch onto the bared skin.

“Can’t,” Ren says, shaking his head. The phone buzzes again, as if reminding them of itself—as if it gave Ren a chance to forget it. “Got plans.”

Hux’s mood sours. Plans. Ren has barely returned to the Core Worlds and he’s already making plans with others.

“What plans?” Hux asks, keeping his tone mild. It can’t be work; they don’t hide Snoke’s various demands from each other, if only so Snoke won’t be able to blindside them later. Ren doesn’t have any friends in this sector, either—none that Hux knows of, at least. Is it that girl? Is Ren running out of Hux’s bed straight into her arms?

Hux has never woken up in Ren’s bed, but he now knows how it would feel to be kicked out of it.

Ren is still typing, not even acknowledging the question. What the hell is he writing, a novel?

“Let me guess, then,” Hux says, poison-sweet. “Early breakfast with your sunshine?”

Ren freezes.

A vicious delight fills Hux. “Unless you two had urgent business to take care of at the Resistance HQ,” he continues evenly, ignoring the tension that thickens in the air between them. “First Order’s latest requisitions have put them in quite the bind; your mother is right to want you on-site, now that you’re—”

—pinned on the bed with Ren’s overly warm body covering his, Ren’s forearm across his throat and knees on Hux’s shins. Ren’s other hand presses Hux’s wrists into the mattress; so close to the knife Hux keeps between the mattress and the headboard, but at the entirely wrong angle to grab it.

“Bastard,” Hux hisses in Ren’s face, the bed groaning as he feebly tries to shake Ren off. Ren presses his knobbly knees harder into Hux’s legs in answer, as if trying to dig grooves into Hux’s bones. The pressure on his neck remains steady, only hard enough to make it uncomfortable to swallow. A half-hearted threat at best.

What a bloody embarrassment.

“You’re not supposed to know any of that,” Ren snarls, his nostrils flaring as he glares down at Hux. Hux stares back, keeping his gaze steady and his breathing even. He’s never been afraid of Snoke’s hound; that won’t change now. “I know Snoke forbid you from investigating me. Have you been fucking—fucking digging anyway?”

Hux scoffs. As if he’s got the time to dig into Ren’s life. “I was having a business dinner at the Starkiller last month, when you walked in with your lovely girlfriend.” It’s quite telling that Ren didn’t even notice Hux there, so captivated by her. “Have you ever noticed how her voice carries, Ben?”

Ren growls low in his throat like the beast he is, his shoulders and neck tensing. Inhaling deeply, Hux waits for the moment Ren will put his crushing weight on Hux’s windpipe, visualising his hands clenching and unclenching as his body struggles to draw air into his burning lungs, unable to even scrabble at Ren’s forearm. The spots in his darkening vision until he can’t see Ren’s face anymore. Waking up with bruises on his tender neck—or not waking up at all.

Ren can’t kill him, though. He isn’t allowed to, not until Hux outlives his usefulness for Snoke. Killing Hux now would mean Ren signing his own death warrant.

“That name,” Ren says lowly, his breath warm on Hux’s face, “isn’t for you to use. Nobody—nobody—can find out that you know it, or there will be consequences.” He gives Hux a long look, anxiety shining through the ebbing fury in his eyes. What happens if word of Ren’s real name gets out? What’s so important about it? “Hux. Do you understand?”

Hux scoffs. “Yes, damn you. I won’t tell anyone.” He wasn’t planning to anyway; this sort of personal information is more valuable as a bargaining chip. When the time comes, he’ll benefit from having leverage over Snoke’s protégé. It just might turn the tide in Hux’s favour.

Satisfied, Ren rolls off and away from Hux. For a moment, Hux can only breathe as his blood rushes back into his feet and hands with that pins-and-needles sensation. Something dark and ugly gathers in the pit of his stomach, a need to sink his teeth into Ren’s throat until he tastes blood rising in him.

Later. His chance will come later.

Ren’s found his trousers on the floor, putting them on. Hux feels oddly naked, vulnerable in only soft trousers while Ren dons his armour again.

Well, Hux is clearly not going back to sleep. Might as well start his day.

“I hope you realise that this cannot continue,” he says conversationally, stepping into his slippers. No point of pulling the sheets up; he’s going to throw them all in the wash as soon as Ren leaves anyway. “This double life of yours, I mean—it’s too much of a risk to allow.”

“It’s not a double life,” Ren grumbles, trying to shake the wrinkles out of his shirt. The spiteful part of Hux hopes that Ren won’t have time to change out of the mussed state Hux put him in before his plans.

“Well, what would you call it?” Hux asks, raising a brow. “Polished, charming Organa-Solo heir on one side, Snoke’s brooding enforcer on the other? Unless I’m wrong and you’re mixing business and pleasure, in which case Ben’s dry cleaner had better be very discreet.”

“I’m not—” Ren cuts himself off with a huff, his unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders. His glare isn’t quite effective with the entire bed between them. “Look, Snoke knows. Okay? He encourages me to keep Ben Organa-Solo alive—to have past connections we can use. I’m doing his bidding.”

“Sunshine—or whatever her name is—she’s one of your honeypot assignments, then?”

Ren runs his teeth over his bottom lip. “I didn’t say that.”

The space behind Hux’s eyes is throbbing, the beginnings of a headache making itself known. Kriffing Ren and his kriffing inability to say one thing straight.

His robe hangs off the hook behind the door—a strategic mistake. “What, then?” Hux asks as he strides over to it, the luxurious fabric his lifeline to feeling a little more put-together. A little more like himself. “Care to explain how she fits into the picture?”

“None of your fucking business,” Ren mutters—suspiciously like around something. Hux is unsurprised to turn and find one of those death-sticks between Ren’s lips and a lighter in his hand, though annoyance is another matter entirely. “I’m doing my damn job; what more do you care?”

Hux fishes out an ashtray from his vanity with a pointed sigh, throwing it vaguely Ren’s way on the bed. Ren picks it up before dropping himself on the edge of the mattress, balancing the ashtray on a thick thigh.

“You wouldn’t be so cagey if you were only following orders,” Hux points out, ignoring the light tickle at the back of his throat. If Ren drops a smatter of ash on his carpets, there will be hell to pay. “What is it? Does she know something she shouldn’t?” Hux can make it go away, if she does.

“No, of course not. She knows nothing.”

Right. Very convincing.

Crossing his arms over his chest, “Is that so?” Hux asks, leaning a hip against the vanity. Ren barely glances at him before turning to the closed window, blowing the smoke out of a corner of his mouth. “Say, Ren, what does she think that you’re doing for a living? Snoke’s bodyguard works only so well when the man is bedbound. How do you explain your long trips abroad? Or the nights you return smelling of sex?”

Ren releases a long breath, loud in the otherwise quiet room. He ashes his cigarra and takes another drag, cool as you please, while irritation crawls underneath Hux’s skin.

It’s like Hux isn’t even kriffing there.

An odd desperation tugging at his chest, “Or maybe she already knows that you’re fucking someone on the side,” Hux throws, spitefully hoping for it to land.

Ren’s jaw works, his lips pressing into a line.

There.

It’s all of ten steps from his spot to Ren’s. “You’re loyal as a dog; I don’t imagine I’m your dirty secret,” Hux adds as he takes them slowly, satisfaction buzzing through him. Ren’s shoulders grow more rigid with each word, the ashtray moving as his legs tense. “Maybe it’s a thingbetween you two. Is that why you never shower here—because she likes smelling another man on you, feeling how open you still are from—”

“Rey’s my cousin, you jackass,” Ren snarls, a vein pulsing on his forehead. A knot unravels in Hux’s stomach. “What the fuck is it to you anyway? I know you don’t get lonely without me.”

The anger Hux was aiming for—the unmissable undercurrent of hurtin Ren’s tone gives him a pause. Hux hasn’t taken a lover since he and Ren started their… arrangement. He could have—and perhaps should have, instead of relying on his hand alone to get him through Ren’s weeks-long disappearances—but he didn’t even want to.

It worries him, sometimes.

“It’s a matter of security,” Hux says, waving it off. “Secrets have a way of leaking during pillow talk, you know that better than anyone.”

Ren laughs, bitter and hollow. Something in Hux twists at the sound. “Security,” Ren spits out, putting out the cigarra like it offended him personally. “Do you wanna do background checks on everybody I slept with while I was gone, then?”

Sharp hurt jolts through Hux.

Ren is staring at him with an intensity that borders on uncomfortable, waiting. Hux unclenches his jaw, breathing through his nose. “You’re an old hand at this; I’ll trust your judgment,” he responds, turning away. What is he doing, reacting to Ren? What the hell is wrong with him?

Ren grabs him by the wrist, jerking him to a stop.

Irritation rises in Hux again. “Ren,” he bites out in warning.

“No really, I think you should,” Ren says, a dark look shining in his eyes. “I don’t remember every name, but I can give you some other details. I’m sure your network of stalkers—sorry, slicers can find out enough.”

“My slicers have more important intel to chase after,” Hux bites out, looking pointedly at Ren’s hand around his wrist. The grip is loose enough that he might break himself free, but suffering the indignity of struggling doesn’t quite appeal to him. Once was enough. “Will you let me go?”

“Only if you admit it.”

Hux scoffs. “Admit what, exactly?”

“Admit that you’re jealous.” Hux goes ice-cold all over. “You hated thinking about me with Rey, didn’t you?”

Of course not. What a ridiculous claim. Hux holds a certain dislike for missing out on critical intel—understandable given his line of work—and finding out that he’s been left entirely in the dark about Ren, Snoke’s other right-hand man and the only person Hux remotely trusts in the First Order, was a bit of a hit. That’s all there is to it. He’s got no reason to be jealous of some girl who calls Ren by his given name, who can laugh and joke with Ren, be seen in public with Ren, who can loop an arm around Ren as they leave—

The dismissal gets stuck in his throat.

“Because I hated it,” Ren murmurs, looking into his eyes. Hux wants with his whole being to escape the depth of feeling in Ren’s earnest gaze—can’t look away. “Thinking about others warming your bed while I was fucked off on some bullshit mission that barely needed me—it killed me, Hux. Tell me you hated it, too. Tell me you want me to be only yours.”

Only Hux’s. As if Ren, with his constant need for attention and validation, wouldn’t chafe under Hux’s negligence.

Hux shakes his head, wishing he could shake off this spell just as easily. Ren must be similarly addled if he’s talking of fancies of flight like exclusivity. “You don’t know what you’re saying. This isn’t what we agreed on, Ren.”

The light in Ren’s eyes dims. Hux hates himself.

“You’re right,” Ren says, his tone just above a whisper. A glance downwards—he starts buttoning up his shirt like he’s being timed on it, only barely getting the order right. “Sorry I ruined it, I thought—never mind what I thought, I’ll just see myself out. You won’t see me again unless Snoke summons both of us, promise.”

Ren rushes past Hux and out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind himself. It hits Hux in the next moment that perhaps he should’ve stopped Ren.

Stars, what a kriffing mess. Hux intended only to stop Ren from jumping off a cliff in the hopes that Hux would follow, not to end what they had. Leave it to Ren to take it as an absolute rejection.

He takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. All right. All right. First step: He can’t let Ren storm off. Ren will be damn near impossible to get a hold of if he leaves like this; Hux’s network truly has more important matters to take care of. Hux needs to make him stay long enough to listen.

As for what Hux will say to fix this, well. He supposes he can tell Ren what Ren wants to hear. He can set his pride aside for a moment. It should be good, shouldn’t it? It should be enough.

It had better be enough.

Inside, Ren is nowhere to be found, his jacket and trainers gone. Hux hasn’t heard the Silencer’s roar, though. Hoping he’s not too late, he grabs his keys off the hook and dashes down the front stairs, catching up with Ren just as Ren reaches his bike.

“Ren,” he says, embarrassingly breathless.

Ren turns to him with wariness etched on his guarded face. He’s waiting for beratement, Hux suspects, or the tongue-lashing that Hux is famous for.

“I was lonely without you,” Hux confesses in a rush, words tumbling out of his mouth in his haste to get them out before they clog up his throat. “When you were away, I—I missed you. I did.” Do whatever you want with it.

A series of emotions cross Ren’s face, too fast to parse. A part of Hux—a part that will always remain Armitage no matter how hard Hux tries to purge it—wants to curl into a ball and hide from the moment Ren will laugh in his face for falling for such a blatant prank.

“Hux,” Ren breathes, breaking into a wide grin. It’s the goofiest, stupidest expression Hux has ever seen on his face—and entirely devoid of any mockery. “You missed me?”

“I won’t repeat it,” Hux says, ignoring the growing heat of his cheeks. Least of all in the middle of the street, where all his neighbours would overhear them if it weren’t shit-early on a Sunday—wearing nothing but his robe and slippers.

Stars. What a disgrace.

Ren’s phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. He fishes it out only far enough to silence it, letting it go to voicemail. “I really have to go,” he says with a touch of regret in his tone, running the backs of his fingers down Hux’s cheek. “But I’ll come back right after, okay? I’ll come back to you.”

Such coddling. Hux wants to roll his eyes, but the look on Ren’s face, the same one as when he said tell me you want me to be only yours, stops him.

“You had better,” he mutters instead. It’s a new sort of thrill, getting a genuine grin out of Ren.

Cupping Hux’s face, Ren presses a hard kiss on his lips before getting on his bike. Hux watches him leave with an inexplicably heavy heart.

He misses Ren already.

#kylux #Kylo Ren #Armitage Hux #Star Wars #Cai does words #finished fics #this got much sappier than planned #no regrets

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

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let him be soft (and let him be mine) p.1

Summary: After Derek pulls another self-sacrificing stunt at the culmination of their most recent case, Spencer runs out of their apartment as he desperately grapples with how it makes him feel.

or; Derek's self-sacrificing tendencies meet Spencer's abandonment issues. It gets messy before it gets better.

Tags: hurt/comfort, crying, abandonment issues, injured!derek, hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, fluff, protective!derek

TW: abadonment issues, allusions to grief/loss, some religious imagery (a catholic church and a priest have a small role in the plot)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.4k Total Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Emily's Edit 1 2 3

Colab Alert! Emily (@criminalmindsvibez) and I have worked together on a project based on this poem. Her edits and my fic go hand in hand, so go and check hers out! She will be posting part 2 and 3 of her edit tomorrow and Friday respectively, and I'll be posting part 2 of this fic on Friday, too!! It's been so fun to work together, so please go and reblog her beautiful edit <3

The Poem:

Please, let him be soft.

I know you made him with gunmetal bones and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be a warrior a soldier a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me that the world needs him. The world needs his heart and his faith and his courage and his strength and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world, and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him, damn anyone that ever took anything from him, damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything until there is nothing left of him but the imprint of dust where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas until his shoulders collapse and his knees buckle and he is crushed by all he used to carry.

Dear God, you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again. You can have your pick of heroes.

So please, I beg you– he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine.

—Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )

The Fic:

Spencer offers Derek a weak smile as they sink into their seats on the jet. It’s all he can really manage, considering the emotional exhaustion the case had brought on, fatigue settling deep into his bones as he relaxes into the comfortable fabric of his chair. He keeps his eyes closed to avoid Derek’s anxious, imploring gaze for as long as possible, but he can’t help them opening on instinct as soon as the plane takes off the ground, and his stomach does its familiar vault at the increasing G forces.

“Baby?” Derek asks softly, as soon as he sees Spencer’s eyes flutter open. “What’s wrong?”

Spencer sighs, turning his head to face the evening sunset for a brief moment before looking back to his boyfriend. “I’m just tired, Der,” he lies, throwing in what he hopes is a reassuring smile to try and seal the deal.

It seems to work, some of the anxiety relaxing from his face — though, Spencer notes, the slightly pained expression remains — as he reaches across the table in between them to take Spencer’s hand. He complies, placing his hand in Derek’s and allowing himself to relish in the comfort of his warm, protective hold despite how he’s feeling.

“I’m sorry, Spence. We’ll get dinner from that Thai place and head straight to bed when we get home, yeah? You’ll feel better then.”

Spencer can’t help the flare of anger in his chest at that — so strong he has to shut his eyes tightly against it for a second. How can Derek not realise what’s wrong? How can he sit opposite him, bruised, cracked ribs and all, and not understand that everything is not at all ‘eat Thai food in bed’ okay?

He forces his eyes open again. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

Derek squeezes his hand once before letting go and thankfully, finally, dropping the subject. The sunset is a pretty blend of pinks and oranges as they fly down from New Jersey towards home, but Spencer doesn’t focus on the aesthetics of the sky. Not when that awful, tiny voice keeps whispering in the back of his head: how many sunsets does Derek have left?

⭐️

It might have been a lie, but the tired excuse seems to work. Derek doesn’t try to make conversation with him on the drive to DC, instead settling for reassuring touches that Spencer finds himself pressing back into despite himself.

He dives straight for the shower once they get back to their apartment, vaguely hearing Derek on the phone placing their standard Thai order as he sheds his restrictive suit and steps into the shower, immediately relaxing as the hot water cascades down his back. All of a sudden, the weight of the case catches up to him and he lets himself cry. Afterall, his desperate, grief-filled sobs can’t be heard over the water and he can blame his sore, red eyes on the shampoo.

When his tears eventually dry up and he exits the warm bathroom into the air-conditioned apartment, Derek’s sat on the edge of their bed fiddling with his phone next to an outfit of Spencer’s favourite loungewear neatly laid out. He always does it and it always makes Spencer smile, but this time his heart just clenches painfully and he has to fight back the hot tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“Hey, baby,” Derek says, voice concerned at the sight of his visibly upset boyfriend. His wince as he gets off the bed to come over to Spencer is the final straw, though, and he can’t help the violent, choked sob that forces its way past his lips, his body heaving with the myriad of emotions running rampant. “Spencer?”

He ignores him as he drops his towel and hurriedly pulls on the clothes Derek set out for him, tears spilling down his cheeks one after the other, indicating no sign of slowing down anytime soon.

“Spencer? Baby?” he pleads desperately as Spencer continues to ignore him. “I know you’re tired, but this isn’t like you. Why—”

“No!” he cries, turning to face him. “It’s not like me! Because even though I feel like this after every case I’m usually so good at holding it in! But I can’t do it anymore, Derek. I can’t keep feeling like this.”

“Baby, talk to me,” Derek begs. “We can work this out, we’ll figure this out together, but I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

All of a sudden, it’s too much. Standing there in their bedroom facing his injured, self-sacrificing, perfect boyfriend as emotion and fear choke the life out of him is killing him, and all he can do is grab his phone, hastily pull on a pair of shoes, and run out of the apartment.

If it wasn’t for his bruised ribs — Christ, if it wasn’t for Derek being shot not four hours earlier — Spencer never would have outrun him, but as it stands, he escapes the apartment building with only Derek’s pleading cries following him.

He runs through the streets of DC, half-blind from unshed tears, until he sees a bus coming down the road, and before he can overthink it, he’s boarding, paying, and taking a seat right at the back. The streets outside blur as the bus accelerates down the street and the tears he’d been holding back since he left the apartment, spill over, joining the countless tear tracks already decorating his cheeks.

Soon he’s not seeing the vibrant streets of the Adams Morgan district anymore, his brain replaying the shoot-out that ended the case instead. They’d finally cornered their suspect in a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere, and Spencer had honestly thought that their attempts to talk him down were working, when he’d suddenly pointed his gun straight at JJ. Derek had easily predicted his next move and wasted no time in pushing her out the way, diving straight into the bullet’s trajectory, shot in the middle of his vest.

Hotch had taken care of the unsub and Spencer had gone straight to Derek’s side, his heart in his mouth as fear overrode rationality with ease. He’d been fine: checked out by an ambulance on site and prescribed some moderate painkillers and a few days rest until his ribs healed up, but Spencer had struggled to see it so positively.

Anger flares up in his chest again at the memory of Derek’s blatant disregard for his own well-being. JJ’s a trained and experienced agent: she could have shot the unsub before he even took the shot if Derek hadn’t pushed her aside, and even if she hadn’t, why was it better for Derek to take the bullet than JJ?

As much as he tries not to take it personally, part of him can’t really help but feel hurt. What if the bullet had missed the vest? What if Derek was really shot? He could have so easily died — in an alternate universe, Spencer is mourning the tragic loss of his boyfriend right now. Does he really not care that all this heroic self-sacrifice could leave Spencer a grieving widow one day?

He feels selfish. The world needs Derek: it needs his heart and his courage and his fierce sense of justice, it needs him to fight for the underdog, it needs him to stop at nothing to apprehend the bad guy, it needs anything he can give them.

But in this moment, Spencer doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about what the world needs. He cares about what Dr Spencer Reid, book nerd and genius prodigy of Nevada needs, and that’s his boyfriend, alive, next to him.

The bus passes a church and Spencer immediately presses the button, getting off at the next stop and retracing the road until he’s standing in front of the beautiful architecture of a Catholic Church. Peace and quiet is exactly what he needs right now, so he takes a deep breath and walks through the heavy wooden doors into the building.

The smell Spencer associates with the churches he’d visit in his childhood when William would dress them up and parade them around a church as the perfect little family for as long as Diana’s meds lasted hits him as soon as he crosses the threshold, and something about it feels comforting. He walks through the small foyer and into the main congregation hall, thankful that no service is taking place. There’s a woman in a pew at the front with her head bowed, but otherwise it’s completely empty, and it emboldens him enough to slip into the back row.

He lets himself zone out, taking in the stained glass windows and the elaborate arcades as well as the ornate statues and decorations around the nave as his mind finally drifts from the torture of his thoughts.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice asks, snapping him out of his trance. He looks over to see a priest standing just to his right, a kind look on his face.

“Uh— yes,” Spencer replies, a little flustered. “Very. An old friend of mine did a PhD in the history of church architecture years ago, but even his high praise doesn’t do it justice in person.”

“Not a regular church-goer, I take it?” the priest asks, smiling warmly.

“Not sure the church would be happy to have me,” he says drily, “on the account that I live with my boyfriend.”

The priest’s face saddens at that. “Would you mind if I sat?”

“As long as you don’t try and convert me.”

He laughs at that, taking a seat next to Spencer. “That’s not my job anyway,” he reassures him. “God takes care of that side of things.”

Spencer nods once, before looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

“What’s led a non-Christian to a Catholic Church on a random Tuesday evening, then?” the priest asks warmly.

“Oh… I’m not sure you’d want to hear about it,” Spencer says awkwardly, blushing a bit at the thought of discussing his relationship troubles with a priest.

“Try me.”

Spencer takes a deep breath. After all, he desperately wants to talk about this with someone, and who better than a completely impartial person whose opinion doesn’t matter anyway?

“I work for the FBI,” he starts, “I have done for nearly a decade now. It’s where I met my boyfriend, actually; we work for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I love the job, it’s given me pretty much everything I have, really, but… but I don’t know how much longer I can do it.” He takes a shaky breath in to try and abate the tears again, but when the priest lays a warm hand over his own, he can’t hold them back anymore.

“Derek— Derek is so strong. He’s fierce and he’s powerful and he’s a hero, and I used to be so proud of him for that, I still am, but now… all it does is scare me. Today he took a bullet for another team member, he pushed her out of the way and it landed in his own vest. He’s fine, but this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He’s run into burning buildings, driven bombs across cities to stop them from blowing up in a populated area, thrown himself into the line of fire to save others countless times, but one day… he won’t be so lucky.

“One day, it’s going to catch up to him, and he’s going to be killed by his own calling. He’s so selfless that he’s truly going to give everything to the job until it kills him… and where does that leave me?” He looks up and meets the priest’s kind, empathetic gaze for the first time, comforted by the reassurance he finds there.

“I never really had a family. My father walked out when I was ten and left me with my sick and confused mother, knowing that she couldn’t take care of me, knowing that he was leaving his child to take care of his mother for the next eight years. When I found the BAU, I found a family, and I found Derek. I love my whole team, but when it comes down to it, he’s all I really have left.

“If he stays in this job, I’m going to end up alone. There will never be another person for me, not after Derek. When people sit in this very building and pray for justice,” Spencer says tearily, “God answers that prayer with Derek Morgan. And those prayers, those pleas for mercy are going to take him away from me one day.”

The priest sits quietly for a moment, thinking, maybe praying, as he bows his head. “Child, God makes heroes for a reason. I know he’s so proud of Derek, that he cherishes all the lives he’s saved, but I also know that God cherishes Derek’s life, and yours, too. Derek sounds like the kind of person who loves with his whole heart, and I suspect that he loves you deeply. The Bible teaches us the importance of kind and honest communication, as well as the value in understanding the people you love, and I think you know that your only shot at a happy ending here is to tell Derek all that you’ve told me.”

Spencer’s always rejected the idea of telling Derek how much it breaks his heart to see him running at danger head on because he can’t think of any possible resolution they could come to — it’s not like he can simply turn off his self-sacrificing tendencies — but he doesn’t really see any other way out now.

He looks up at the priest. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m not sure I have any other choice.”

“I’ll leave you to your peace and quiet,” he says as he gets up to leave, “but please never think that God doesn’t want to know you because of your loving relationship with Derek. He loves you both so much.”

Spencer smiles, feeling a little bit lighter after getting everything off his chest. “Thank you.”

As he watches the priest walk out of the nave and into what Spencer suspects is the Sanctuary, he hears something that simultaneously warms his heart and twists his stomach in anxiety.

Derek, calling his name.

I hope you enjoyed part one of this fic - please go and check out Emily's edit here!

PART TWO

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @doctorenby @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoopc@marsjareau @garcias-bitch (taglist form)

#criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds writing #cm fic #moreid #moreid fic #moreid angst #moreid fluff #hurt spencer reid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #spencer reid/derek morgan #my writing #cm

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets ~ 3

Warnings: noncon sexual acts later in series

This is dark!Bucky and dark!Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A buried family secret comes to light thrusting you to the forefront of an old alliance.

Note: Finished this before work! Hope y’all enjoy.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

There was a flurry of activity around the jet waiting on the tarmac. You sat in the car, still cuffed, trapped, as you watched the crew hurry. It was barely noon yet and you were exhausted. Barnes returned and slid in the other side. You ignored him and kept your eyes out the window.

“Shouldn’t be long before we can board,” He said. “You look unhappy, your highness. Is there any way I can help?”

“Uncuff me, let me go home and live my life,” You snapped dryly. “That would about do it.”

“Get it all out now.” He chided. “The king won’t stand for your lip.”

“‘The king won’t stand for your lip’,” You mimicked and grunted as you leaned a bit too heavily on your hands. “I really don’t care what he wants and I certainly don’t care what he thinks of me. All the better if he hates me.”

“This isn’t about feelings. He will marry you regardless of his personal bias,” Barnes assured. “It will be easier, however, if he has a reason to tolerate you.”

“Do you really live by the forgotten words just because they were written down?” You scoffed. “You know how absurd that is? I’ve seen the stories, he could marry anyone--”

“No, he can’t,” Barnes intoned. “Those forgotten words are not forgotten. The kingdom remembers the agreement. They remember how much we gave to the flagging country of Ecklun. They remember we were promised a princess.” He looked at you. “You. We paid our dues and we expect a return on it.”

You shook your head, finding it hard not to laugh sardonically. It was all backwards. This was the shit you read about in textbooks or fantasy novels. It was bullshit.

“Would it disqualify me to tell you I’m not pure?” You snickered. “To tell you I didn’t save myself for the king I never gave a second thought about?”

“It doesn’t bother me and surely not him.” Barnes shrugged. “He’s had his own fun, but I would advise you to not be so flippant about it with him. He is not one for cheek.”

“If I am who you say I am, I will do as I like.” You snarled.

“Very well. I can’t stop you. I can only warn you against it.” He pushed his head back and sighed. “You know your history, you recall how kings can be.”

👑

You sat on the plane in a plush leather seat, white and pristine like the rest of the interior. Barnes was across from you, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Once you’d taken off, he’d quit checking his watch and settled into the flight without a second glance at you. You couldn’t do the same.

Aside from your anxiety and anger over all that had transpired, your hands remained bound behind you and kept you from leaning back or getting comfortable in the least. You teetered on the edge of the seat and glared at him.

“What do you want, Duchess?” He asked without lifting an eyelid.

“Can’t you at least take these off?” You grumbled. “My shoulders are killing me.”

He shrugged and said nothing.

“You can’t expect me to sit through this whole flight like this.” You hissed. “Shit, you don’t treat me like a duchess or whatever you claim I am.”

His eyes opened sharply and he uncrossed his arms. He sat forward, his jaw ticked as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“You will not use that language further,” He warned. “Understood. It is unladylike. Unseemly. I won’t tolerate it and neither will the king.”

“Language? I’m sorry I don’t talk in iambic pentameter.” You scowled.

“You know what I mean. No more shits, fucks, and all that.” He seemed disgusted by the words on his tongue. “If you feel the need to moan, pretend you are a child.”

“Oh, gosh, will do, mister,” You said dryly. He raised his brow and his nostrils flared. “If I promise to watch my mouth, will you undo these?”

He blinked and checked the time again. He seemed to weigh the option as he angled his head one way then the other.

“Well, I can’t have you arriving in cuffs, I suppose,” He stood and reached into his pocket as he neared. “But don’t think I won’t bring them back out if needed. You understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, I swear to be a good little duchess,” You quipped.

He huffed and pulled you forward as he reached around you to grasp the cuffs. They came free and he drew away. He backed up as he put the key back in his pocket and dropped the cuffs in the empty seat next to him. He leaned an elbow on the rest and held his chin as he watched you. You sat back as you stretched your arms in front of your, turning your hands and rolling your wrists.

“We have a lot of work to do,” He ran his fingertips along his short stubble. “A lot.”

👑

Time seemed to stand still. When you arrived, it was morning in Astrania, the rest of the day lost in the difference. A man in black led you down the steps to the tarmac, Barnes behind you, and another man. You were taken into the airport, away from the general public, and guided through the corridors meant for employees only.

Barnes came up to walk beside you. A sudden tide of displacement washed over you. It was all real. You were far from home, stranded, trapped, in a land you didn’t know. With a title you didn’t want. For a purpose you dreaded.

The man in front of you stopped short before a door and turned back to look at Barnes.

“Cameras are here.” He said curtly.

“Already?” Barnes frowned.

“They must’ve seen the royal jet circling,” The man replied. “Apparently, they’ve been on alert since your departure.”

Barnes sighed and nodded. He unbuttoned the single button of his jacket and pulled it off. “Just make sure you keep them away.” He opened his jacket and turned to you. “Here.” He tried to shroud your head in his blazer and you dodged it. The man behind you blocked you. “Come on. There’s gonna be at least a dozen photogs out there and you far from ready for an appearance.”

“Are you serious?” You snorted.

“The longer we wait, the more will be there,” He said. “Now come on.”

He threw his jacket over you and you caught it. It smelled like expensive cologne and sweat. He wrapped it around you so that you could barely see and grabbed your arm to guide you onward. Unsteady, unsure, you let him usher you ahead and a heavy metal door opened, a streak of light visibly past the hem of the jacket as you could barely see your own feet.

A buzz of voices and the shutter of cameras greeted you outside and you clutched the fabric tighter. Barnes kept on, a few warnings to the vulture-like photogs as the way was cleared ahead of him by your stalwart escorts. A car door opened and you were angled inside quickly.

You caught yourself on the seat and felt a nudge to move over. Barnes climbed in as you righted yourself and the door closed heavily behind him. He pulled his jacket away and shook it out as the tinted windows flashed with the cameras outside. He grumbled and folded his jacket in his lap.

“Well,” He bemoaned. “That does change things.” He shifted on the seat. “Driver. Go on.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“Your arrival will be a headline by the next hour,” He explained. “That means we have even less time to get you… ready.”

“Oh, such a tragedy.” You snipped.

“Trust me, duchess, while you insist on making a mockery of this, you do not want to face the media without preparation,” The car began to move and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “They will tear you apart. What matters is their perception not your intent.”

“Ah, is that your job then?” You wondered. “You’re supposed to make a lady of me.”

“I am to educate you,” He insisted. “A tall and no doubt foolhardy task,” He growled. “But my king gave me an order and I will do what I can to mold you into at least a semblance of a lady.”

👑

Lush green fields turned to rolling hills. You watched the scenery, almost forgetting where you were and why. The picturesque countryside awed you and sent a chill through you. It truly felt like you had stepped back in time; even as if you had arrived on an entirely different planet.

Trees planted in careful lines closed in around the road and led to a row of tall hedges and you stopped before a gate of curled metal, topped by sharp points. It opened after the driver gave a short honk. The long drive was laid with mosaic stones and curved before the rounded steps of a great mansion. The double doors at the top were decorated with golden knockers and the handles were wrought and twisted elegantly. The car came to a halt and Barnes, as was his habit, checked his watch.

Your door was opened by the driver as Barnes climbed out the other side. He rounded the vehicle and beckoned you towards the steps. He walked beside you and you could sense him watching you from the corner of your eyes. The doors opened as you approached the stairs and liveried servants appeared from the other side as they welcomed you with eager smiles.

“All is prepared duchess,” He gestured ahead. “The palace has been readied for your seclusion. You are the only task left.”

“What a welcome,” You sneered. “I might be unlearned in the habit of nobility, but I don’t think it is usual for one to speak to a duchess in that tone.”

He smiled and took your arm, hooking it through his as he urged you up the stairs.

“The king has permitted me full reign in your training,” He said as he guided you through the open doors. “He will forgive me my own missteps if I can prevent your own.”

You dragged your feet as you entered the vast foyer. The floor was of white marble veined with gold, the decor shared a similar color scheme, and portraits hung from the walls, vast likeness of women in garb dating from the earliest medieval periods to the last century. You detached from Barnes and looked around.

“This is the Palace of Regia,” Barnes explained from behind you. “These are your foremothers. The queens of Astrania, each of whom took their pre-marital seclusion here. Each who married and served their kings proudly.”

You recalled the tradition, common to many countries but mostly retired since Victoria reigned over England and much of the globe. You turned back to Barnes and blinked.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” Barnes answered. “Two weeks to ready you for the king’s presence. You will be taken to the capital at the end and attend your engagement party so that you can acquaint yourself with your future husband. Your wedding is scheduled the next week.”

“Engagement party? Wedding?” You echoed. “That’s… three weeks. Not even a month.”

“Yes, so we should get to work.” He neared and grabbed your shoulders. He pushed them back. “Stand straight.” He poked your chin up with two fingers. “Head high, shoulders back.”

“What are you--”

He rounded you and his hand gripped your waist and squeezed. He shushed you and ran his other hand up your spine.

“You must hold yourself like a queen. Mind your posture, your highness.” He said.

You pulled away from him harshly. “What are you doing?”

You were shocked as you felt a slap on your ass and he swiftly caught your hips and drew you back to stand before him.

“I am trying to save you a lot of grief.” He said. “Stay.” He bid as if you were a dog. He released you and came around in front of you. “As I said, head up, shoulders back.”

He stared until you obeyed. You sighed and stood straight as you could. He grinned.

“Let me tell you, Duchess, the cameras, the public, they will judge you even more harshly so you want to give them as little ammunition as you can so that they cannot turn their muzzles on you.” He girded and grabbed your arms, adjusting them before his hands settled on either side of your neck. He tutted. “You cannot hang your shoulders like a hunchback.”

“I don’t--”

“You do.” He insisted. “Now,” He removed his hands and walked backwards until he was near the wall. “Walk to me.” You squinted and he lowered his chin. He chuckled and waved his hand to beckon you forward. “Come on.”

You rolled your eyes but took a step. He hissed. “Keep your head up. Shoulders straight. Don’t sway like that.” Each footfall had another comment until you were right before him. He gestured you to turn around and he kicked your feet closer together and again touched your hips. “Let them know you’re a woman but do not flaunt it. Walk as if there is a string running straight through you. Lift your feet.”

He nudged you and you began to walk again. He followed not far behind and you heard his displeased grumbles. He fixed your shoulders, your hips again, told you to keep your feet closer together, head up!

You were growing more and more annoyed by the second. You were tired. You hadn’t even had a chance to register everything. You were in a palace, marching beneath the eyes of dozens of dead queens, far from home and all you had ever known. It was all so foreign, so different, so startlingly unfamiliar. You hated it.

“Enough!” You spun to face him and he stopped short. “Holy shit! I haven’t even--”

He grabbed your hand and smacked it like you were a child. “Language.” He warned.

You tugged your hand back and gaped at him. “What the fuck--”

He took your hand again and smack it harder. “Your highness, let us not be children.”

“Don’t touch me--” You tore yourself away. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“If you insist on acting like a child, I will bend you over and spank you like one.” He said. “Now, stand straight.” He crossed his arms. “And mind your mouth.” You stared at him, stunned. He raised his brows and nodded to you. “Don’t make me count, Duchess.”

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Stay Out of This OK? (Mal x Baby!Reader)

Request: Sequal to Better Luck Next Time where the team tries to help Baby!Reader get with Mal.

Authors Note: so this was super fun to write with @literaryhedgehog. It’s in the same 3 times they didn’t and 1 they did of the other one we did! I hope you enjoy and hit me up with questions or if you just wanna say Hi!

Team bonding was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be an activity that everyone would enjoy. Instead, it had turned into a board game massacre. There weren’t enough Monopoly pieces for everyone to play, so the team got split up into pairs. “Randomly assigned” pairs. (Though you would bet your signed Mia Hamm jersey that there was nothing random about you being paired with Mal).

“I told you I need to play the shoe! It’s my lucky piece!” Emily yelled, literally trying to pull the shoe piece from your hand.

“Chill Emily, it’s just a game,” Lindsey glared from beside her. This whole thing wasn’t even about the game, it was about getting you to talk to your crush. (Which the team was determined to get you to admit your feelings too).

“More like a crushing commentary on how consumerism works…” You mumbled with an eye roll. You fucking hated this game. The only upside was that you got to cuddle with your favorite forward.

“Well yes, that is literally what the game is supposed to be about, but we’re here trying to have fun.” Christen eyed you as she added a hotel to Baltic Avenue. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah babe, just have fun with it,” Mal nudged you, causing your lips to tick up lightly.

“Mal called Y/n babe,” Emily squealed, instantly being shushed by the flares of your teammates. The plan was to get the two Preath children together, and with your skittish and shy nature, they had to be subtle about it as to not scare you off.

It seems to be working as you were cuddled into the older girl’s side, your chin resting comfortably on her shoulder.

“ Maybe you should blow on the dice, Y/N.” Kelley mentioned in a forcefully offhand manner, “You know, for good luck.”

“Actually, I think it might be luckier if you just roll, you’ve been getting higher numbers anyway,” Mal said kissing your cheek and handing the dice to you, while covertly shooting Kelley a look that screamed ‘please shut up’. The team may have had good intentions, but their plans never seemed to work out well, and she really liked you.

You forcefully threw the dice on the board, tired of the near-constant teasing from the team. Too forcefully. One of them bounced through the center, ricocheted off the hat on Electric company and flew off the table into Lindsey’s lap. The other took out the house at Park place before Christen stopped it.

Everyone looked down at the numbers. Snake eyes, that moved you right onto the words “Go to Jail.” The room burst into laughter, and your cheeks tinted a deep shade of red.

“I think I’m done for tonight, sorry Mal,” You said gulping, untangling yourself from the woman, and rushing to stand up.

“No babe, you don’t have to go!” She called out, standing up as if to stop you as you made your way to the door. This had been going so well until the girls started teasing you.

“I’ll see you in practice tomorrow,” you said, smiling quickly. You closed the door behind you then opened it again quickly, just long enough to call out “Next time, we’re playing cards against humanity.”

Mal glared at the other girls as Emily moved your piece into the game’s jail. “I love you guys, but just stay out of this, ok?”

“Sure, sure. Of course.” The other women said halfheartedly, giving Mal no reassurance whatsoever. The two of you would be so good together, they just couldn’t help themselves from meddling.

……...

“Okay we’re doing drills in teams of two today,” Carlie called shaking a hat with pieces of paper in it. She was in charge of the forwards and middies workouts for the day, and while you were ecstatic to get to work with one of your idols, you were also wary of your teammates and their desire to embarrass you in front of your crush. But the team captain wouldn’t get involved, would she? Carlie was like too old and too serious for the team's shenanigans right?

One by one Carlie drew a slip out and called out the names written on the paper. She paused for a second before she read your name, pairing you with Mal.

You furrowed your eyebrows. Why were you paired with another forward? Was Vlatko going to try putting you or Mal in midfield? That didn’t make sense, you were both strikers and damn good ones at that.

“Don’t look so excited now,” Mal joked as she approached you, eyeing your frown carefully.

“I am excited, just nervous, and a little tired. 8 am workouts aren’t really my thing. Also, Captain hasn’t said what we’re doing yet, and I will mutiny if we have to do burpees.” You grumbled, shooting Mal a sheepish smile.

“I don’t think you’re alone in that… I think we’re just doing some crossing drills,” Mal re

“Okay, everyone has your teammate? Great.” Carlie tossed the hat into a bag she had stowed under the bench. “Today we’re doing timed crossing drills. Focus on accuracy, but the team to finish the fastest gets to go in early and losers have to do 5 laps. Lindsey and Rose, you’re up.”

There were many things you enjoyed in life. The smell of rain, the feeling of warm sand on your toes, and Mal running chasing a ball down the pitch were 3 at the top of your list. Her control over the ball was amazing and the ease upon which she weaved between defenders was too enticing to not stare at it. One second you had been running down the field, pointedly not looking at Mal, the next you had tripped over your own feet, and nearly face-planted in the dirt by the goalpost.

“Whoa there kiddo,” Tobin grunted as she caught you, an easy smirk planted on her face. She had seen where your eyes were but didn’t feel the need to tease you about it.

“Thanks, Tobs,” You mumbled, your cheeks dusting a light shade of pink. She patted your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She opened her mouth to say something but was rudely interrupted.

“Hey, y/n don’t fall for Mal too hard,” Emily called with a giggle from across the field. And you felt your cheeks get even hotter. You shook your head and headed back towards Carlie.

“Hey, stay out of this!” Mal said firmly, punching Emily on the shoulder as she ran off to chase you.

“Whatever you say, kid,” Emily smirked back, shrinking only at Tobin’s glare. The thing that Toby understood was that you and Mal would get together when the two of you were ready. It didn’t do anyone any good to meddle in it.

…...

“Sorry, no room,” Ashlyn said her mouth twitching as she saw you look over the available bus seats. Or more specifically all the unavailable bus seats, since every single normally empty seat had suddenly been filled. Team members who were normally bus buddies had simultaneously decided today that they were going to split up over two rows, and several duffel bags had mysteriously appeared to fill up the rest of the empty rows.

“Why is Alex in my normal seat?” You asked, glancing at the place that had become yours, feeling your anxiety rising.

“Captain's orders,” Alex shrugged, fighting to keep her face neutral. If you and Mal weren’t going to buck up and ask each other out, then the team was just going to conveniently keep putting the two of you together.

“Just sit with Mal,” Carlie waved you off, barely looking up from her phone. You didn’t move, too busy calculating the probability that the seat change was going to cause some disastrous event. You had heard the stories, and you knew the risk. But how were you supposed to tell Carlie that you were sure that if you sat in the wrong seat you were going to curse the whole team?

Just then Mal climbed onto the bus and froze. Oh, this was ridiculous.

“Right, well since we’ve decided this match doesn’t matter,” Mal said, pushing lightly past you to get to the seat where Kelley was sitting alone, “I’ll just sit here where I can actually hear the speaker system.”

“Alex isn’t going to like this,”

“Then Alex can sit here herself,” Mal said, dramatically lowering her bag towards the seat next to Kelley.

“What about Alex,” Alex started, turning towards the commotion, her eyes zeroing in on Mal who held her bag an inch above the seat, as though daring Alex to come prevent her from setting it down. “No. no one sits with Kelley but me,” She growled, shoving past you to get to her spot.

Mal smirked, already walking down the aisle towards her own seat. Her eyes softened as she watched your face light up now that your usual seat was empty, smiling when you relaxed into the foam. She turned around to walk down the aisle, and leaned over to hiss at Carlie, Kelley, Alex, and Ashlyn as she passed “I told you to stay out of this.”

……

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked as Mal dragged you down the dark street. It was nearly midnight, and she had decided that it was the perfect time to go and get a snack.

“Well, officially we are supposed to be getting extra protein in our diets for this week of practice. Technically peanut butter milkshakes have protein!” She smiled dopily at you, pulling you towards the brightly lit building in the distance.

“But it’s midnight, and if Chris or Tobs find out, they’re going to kill us,” You whined, dragging your feet as you approached the diner. How she knew it would be open, you had no idea. You still stood by your point that wandering around this late was a bad idea. But you would go anywhere with Mal.

“Which is exactly why we left at midnight. Chris is definitely asleep by now, and Tobin is probably too wrapped up in a painting to notice anything else,” Mal bit her lip and looked back at you. “And there are some things worth dying for. Like chocolate peanut butter milkshakes.”

“As long as you’re paying,” You grumbled, playfully tugging at her hand.

“That would make it a date then wouldn’t it?” Mal asked with a smirk, and your steps faltered. There was no way Mal wanted to date you right? She couldn’t feel the same way you did.

“Do you want it to be a date?” You asked softly, freezing on the spot, the ground suddenly the most interesting thing on the planet.

Mal stopped moving and looked back at you. Her brown eyes glinted in the light of the streetlamp, as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes. Of course, I do. But if that bothers you it’s-”

“I would love to go on a date with you,” You interrupted her, your eyes wide.

“Yeah?” She asked hesitantly, afraid to scare you off.

“Absolutely. I would have asked, but I didn’t think you felt the same,” You nodded firmly. Your eyebrows suddenly furrowed. “Is this why Kelley told me to just get my shit together and grow a pair?”

That had been a very strange and scary conversation considering Kelley wouldn’t tell you what the two of you were talking about. You had been so freaked out that you only talked to Tobin, Christen, and Mal for like a week because you were afraid of saying the wrong thing. It was also why Tobin had decided to be a defender for a day and tackle Kelley every chance she got.

Mal laughed, “That’s not even the half of it. I’m surprised you didn’t notice, I practically had to too ‘stay out of it’ on their foreheads, they kept meddling so much. Now come on, those milkshakes won’t drink themselves. I’ll get you extra sprinkles on yours!”

In the end, you didn’t need the team's help. You and Mal had gotten together in your own way, in your own time, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagines #uswnt imagine #mal pugh x reader #mal pugh imagine #literalhedgehog

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mycatshuman · 4 years ago

Text

Wrapped Up In A Romcom

Virgil Has A Fall

I'm sorry that I haven't really been posting. I think my mental health hasn't been too good. If you could let me know what you think, it'd be a great motivator to get me to work on this fic and my others more. You don't have to but I'd appreciate it.

A big thanks to @lehuka123 for reading this you're great.

Next | More

🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️

Virgil had been interested in history since he was a young child. One of the things that stood out to him often was his fascination with ancient Egypt and their mummies. Of course, King Tut was one of his favorites. He was absolutely spellbound by Tutankhamun. The mysterious boy king and his mostly untouched tomb full of wonderful treasures drew in Virgil's attention like a moth to a flame. It was unlike most things at that age.

Just as King Tut kept his attention, so did the mummies. Virgil still remembers a book his grandmother had gifted him that came with a poster on the mummification process. He found it very interesting how they went about preserving their dead.

Perhaps his fascination with mummies began with the Mummy movies. Or maybe he just got the interest in it from his mom and grandmother. Most likely, it was a bit of both. And as he grew older, he found himself devouring history with joy. Books, movies, tv shows, documentaries, nearly anything he could get his hands on. There was something so enticing about the cultures and the people who had lived before him. It was certainly no surprise to the people who knew Virgil when he went to college for a degree in archeology after high school.

Soon enough, Virgil was off on a trip to Africa for his first archeological dig in the sands of Egypt. He was very nervous and very excited. Although, he didn't have high expectations on his chances of finding anything "breaking news" worthy.

After all, it would be his first dig and it could often take weeks to find anything. By the time he was to return home, he might not find but a third of an ancient jug. Whatever Virgil expected from his trip, it was most certainly not what he got.

----------------------

It had been a long, hot day in the sun as Virgil shifted through sand and worked to discover ancient artifacts buried in the sands near the foundation of an ancient Egyptian home. He had shifted through sand for hours sweating his ass off only to find a few pieces of what he theorized to be an ancient plate.

Still, he was very proud of himself for his find. An ancient plate was still a piece of history after all.

Virgil stayed up long after the other archeologists and workers went to bed to just- take everything in. It was almost hard for him to believe that he was here. In Egypt. He could only imagine how it must have looked back in the time of the mighty pharaohs. It made him feel jittery inside. Like he had swallowed a whole bathtub full of pop rocks and they were all popping simultaneously in his stomach. He had too much energy for him to lay down and go to bed. But he had to get to bed soon. He would be heading into the city tomorrow to buy some more supplies for the camp. All those people would drain all the energy he had. And it was not going to be good for his social anxiety.

So he decided to take a small walk to settle his nerves and expellmost of his energy, but not before making sure he had his emergency pack. His emergency pack was filled with three flashlights, ten packs of batteries, twenty lighters, five bottles of water, two ropes, a phone, a radio, 10 flares, a charger cord, a first aid kit, and four rechargeable battery packs for his phone. He also made sure to grab his phone. That was the one thing he didn't keep in his emergency pack. He just made sure to take it because it would be easier on his anxiety. Once Virgil checked to make sure he had everything in his pack, he set off on his late night walk.

He walked through the sands for about an hour. The night's bright full moon hanging in the sky above him helpfully lighting his way. It was peaceful. Nice and calming. When Virgil finally felt the gentle fingers of sleep pulling at him, he turned to go back...only to be pulled down into the sand as gravity pulled it into an empty space underneath the sands. Virgil screamed as he fell and landed hard on stone. He stopped screaming with a grunt. The sand still trickled down around him but much less now than it had been at first. Virgil rubbed his back as he glanced around at the ominous darkness around him. A small circle of light came from the hole about ten feet above him from where he had fallen through, lighting a small area around him. He shakily fumbled around for his backpack and pulled out a flashlight and flicked it on.

Virgil swept the flashlight around to gain his bearings and find a way out of the situation he seemed to find himself in. "Oh great, I don't see another way up." He sighed. He aimed the light around and inspected the space around him. "Seems to be a passageway way," he hummed to himself, barely keeping himself from panicking. It would be no good for him if he panicked now. A glance behind showed a dead end. He let out a huff. "I guess I'll have to go this way." He stood up and winced as pain shot up his left leg. A look down showed that his ankle was swelling. "Must have sprained it." Virgil tentatively began limping forward, keeping his flashlight swinging from side to side to keep an eye out for anything dangerous.

Soon, he came to a doorway and gazed in only for his jaw to drop in amazement. "Oh my god! This is an antechamber!" All around him stood various treasures such as large statues, couches, and beds all decorated with gold and precious stones. Virgil's eyes were wide in amazement as he stared around at all of the stunning artifacts before him. Virgil moved deeper into the room and found two more doorways as he tried to catch glimpses of the paintings on the walls. One of the doors lead straight ahead and the other to the right. After taking a moment to decide, he went to the right and entered the other room.

What he saw had him freezing in his tracks. There, before him stood an ornate golden sarcophagus. He had found the burial chamber. The walls were painted in beautiful colors that depicted the life of the person placed here. Virgil could already tell this was someone of importance if all the treasure was any indication. The outstanding craftsmanship of the sarcophagus only confirmed that suspicion. Virgil stumbled forward, awestruck by the image before him. Tentatively, he ran a gentle hand along the sarcophagus. He directed his flashlight at the cartouche on the lid and translated the hieroglyphs. "King Roman…" he whispered softly. His fingers delicately traced over the hieroglyphs. "Hello, King Roman," he said gently. "I can't wait for your people to hear about you. That'll be one more piece of the puzzle in their heritage." Virgil moved further down the sarcophagus and inspected the rest of the lid. He frowned as he came across what looked to be a spell or curse of sorts. He leaned forward and translated out loud. "Shall my resting place be disturbed on a full moon by a young male, may my last wish be granted." Virgil shivered and took a step back from the sarcophagus.

"Okay, I think it's time for me to leave." He turned to leave and find another exit only to freeze when a loud noise sounded from behind him. Then he heard sliding. Quickly, he spun around to find the lid of the sarcophagus moving. Virgil stared wide eyed as the lid was shoved off and the mummy within sat up and turned to face him. He watched with disbelief as the mummy's hand rose up and began to unwrap the bandages from their head as if they were freshly placed. Slowly, a handsome face revealed itself from beneath the cloth. Gorgeous brown eyes, like rich soil that you knew would sprout beautiful new life, stared back at him. The archaeologist's jaw dropped as the other before him smirked.

"Well, you certainly don't disappoint."

🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️🔺️

Taglist: @misery-killed-me @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @odette-ssbu @ray-does-stuff

Maybe you could let me know if this is worth it to continue posting?

#prinxiety #ts virgil #ts prinxiety #ts roman #roman sanders #virgil sanders #mycatshuman fics #mycatshuman writing #WUIARC #wrapped up in a rom com #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides au #no read more

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burnedbyshoto · 5 years ago

Note

Can I request a self conscious chubby Shouto? Reader gives him kisses on his tummy and reassures him about his weight?

tw: shouto has poor body image, fluff, angsty

shouto had been hospitalized for five months.

after what was most definitely the most horrific villain attack seen on live tv against only one hero, the doctors never shut up about how he was lucky to have won, how lucky he was to be alive. it was far after the days that recovery girl had passed, and with no healing quirk having matched her ability it had been a long five months in hospice care.

he had spent one month in a coma and the next four just healing. it had been a hard four months, his body almost refusing to move, black and yellow bruises covered his body still, and the diet... the diet they had him on was one that was supposed to help him gain weight. it was to help with his healing and aid with the muscle gain he was going to need in order to be where he once was - he understood that and he appreciated the doctors doing what was best for him but he didn’t understand how he went from his strong, toned, and lithe form to one with flappy arms, pooling thighs, and a tummy so large he couldn’t see his toes without leaning forward. he never thought he would hate that he couldn’t see his jawline anymore, that he could hate that he couldn’t sit up without feeling his stomach, hate that he was so hungry all the time. he hated that he was so... he was so—

“welcome home!” you cheered merrily, guiding shouto back into the house that had been without his presence for almost half a year.

he tried to focus on you and only you, your mindless babble about how you had learned how to make cold soba noodles for him while he was in the hospital (although you made sure to insist that they weren’t that good so to not get his hopes up, but shouto was tittering on being excited and nauseous at the thought of having endless cold soba), how you had temporarily moved the master bedroom into the closest room to the front door and kitchen just in case he wasn’t ready to move that much, how you had accidentally broken the sliding door but had his brother come and fix it for you, and of course just how happy and grateful you were that he was out. shouto tried to stay engaged but he could feel the eyes scorching on his back, the nosy neighbors and paparazzi who wanted the first pictures of him since his release.

he hated this, he hated his body right now, and their judgmental gaze burned him from the inside out. for over twenty years of his life he had never been without muscle on his body and now... now he was... he was—

“watch your step, you’re been limping again, I don’t want you to trip,” came your gentle voice, your foot planted on the stair and the other on the floor as if to support him in case he fell. like you could keep him upwards if he did, he bitterly thought.

regardless, shouto gave you a gracious half smile and carried through, stepping up to the stair and flinching when he felt that skin he was still starkly unfamiliar with move. but the moment the front door closed behind the both of you, shouto felt empty.

the rest of the day was filled with shouto adjusting to the house once more. adjusting to the way the floors creaked under his feet, of how you always waited for him to enter through the doorways instead of attempting to go through them with him, of how you lingered behind him with conscious eyes and nervous fingers. he knew you were worried, it was as obvious as the sun during a summer heat wave, but it offered him no comfort... it only made him feel worse, made him graze his fingers against his... his...

“why don’t you take a shower?” you suggest, your hands grabbing the dishes on the table. you had made soup, he was still to be on a mostly liquid diet until next week. “I bet this has been exhausting, and if you shower then I can shower and we can sleep early tonight!”

shouto strained a smile again, his tongue still failing to speak. he hasn’t spoken a word in weeks, but you never seemed to grow angry at his lack of words thankfully. his eyes fluttered close when you leaned across the table and pressed a kiss to his cheek, his body shivering both at the familiar contact that he loved and the aching pain that continued to be suppressed.

showering nearly killed him.

feeling the way that his body now worked within the confines of the small room made his head spin. he hated that he couldn’t merely twist his body anymore, he had to completely turn around. he hated that he had to use more body wash, his hands shaking when he maneuvered around the fat that had built on his stomach, the stretched skin that fell on his thighs and arms.

stretch marks... as if the scar on his face wasn’t enough.

with a shaky sigh, he turned off the water and exited the shower.

he wasn’t feeling too bad with the warm water soaking into his skin, but he made the mistake of looking into the mirror as he made his way back to the room.

a mistake.

his eyes bore into his figure, was this really him? he could barely recognize himself. this... this had to be a mistake, there was no way this was him. his hands pressed to his side, hoping that this was all a figment of his imagination, just some twisted depression that was keeping him bound to the worst of this all.

but his hands fell on his body right where he had hoped they wouldn’t, and something snapped within him.

CRASH!

shouto didn’t even realize that he was panting like some rabid animal, his body trembling with extreme force, and the room covered with ice and burn marks. he collapsed forward, suddenly feeling weak, and with every ragged breath tears pricked at the back of his eyes, threatening to fall out but wouldn’t.

he was...

he was f--

“shouto? are you okay in there?”

he couldn’t even bother turning his head to look over at the opening door, but had he, he would’ve seen the way that your head peeked in, your eyes focused with concern, sympathy, and love. he focused on his hands, the white of his gripping knuckles, and the bulge of his veins.

“I-I’m okay,” he finally spoke, his head remaining low, horrid thoughts plaguing his head as the cold hallway air drafted into the room sending shivers down his spine - not that he reacted to it.

“that’s a lie if I ever heard one,” you sigh, not even trying to give him the satisfaction of believing his lie. but again, that was a quality he loved about you. “I won’t press because i’m sure this has been an overwhelming day for you, but... i’m here for you, shouto, you know?”

it was then that your hand pressed against his spine, and shouto felt his soul leave his body.

he didn’t want you touching him like this, he thought, storming away, trying to avoid your worried look as he pushed past you.

no not like this, his eyes clenched and his fists trembled at his side.

he was ugly, he gasped for air as he entered the room, his vision swimming.

he was... he was--!

“please don’t cry... please don’t cry without telling me why you’re upset!” your voice begged and shouto hated how distraught you sounded. “are you in pain?”

“no. well, not really.”

“is this happening too fast? were you discharged too soon?”

“no... i’m fine.”

it’s....

“was it the food? I know i’m still learning, but I didn’t think the food was that bad!”

“n-no, not that...”

it’s because...

“then what’s going on, sho?”

“it’s because i’m fat!” shouto finally spat, his body shaking with exploding emotion, steam spilling from his body as if he was fighting some evil villain.

his face was set in stone, a look of pure emotionlessness as long as you didn’t look into his eyes. as long as you didn’t know that sad glint in his eyes meant that he was emotionally beyond repair right now. he saw your mouth drop, most likely to ease any ‘untrue’ thoughts that danced on his mind. he didn’t want to hear it.

“I am, y/n, i’m fat. my clothes don’t fit and I have to wear these... throw away clothes! the doctors said im almost twice my usual weight. I-I have fat in places I didn’t even know existed, my stomach is so fucking huge i’m surprised kaminari hasn’t sent me some pregnant meme by now, and it took all my energy to just shower today. i’m fat!” shouto heaved, his forehead covered in cold sweat while glaring at the wall to the left of your head. he couldn’t look at you right now, not after that outburst.

the silence lingered thickly in the air, corroding the muscles in his throat, making his heart flutter in anxiety driven pulses while you shifted from foot to foot, your teeth gnawing at your lower lip. he wanted to apologize to you, for what he didn’t know but he felt bad. his actions were halted by you sharp inhale, and that kind strong smile that fell on your face.

“...well, im not going to fight you on that, but i’m glad you spoke your mind,” you said softly, your hands moving to grip each other while you tried to save face in front of him. it was obvious that you hadn’t even thought that which made shouto feel even guiltier. “I’m going to shower, so please get ready for bed, yeah? we’ll talk more once we’re in bed and relaxed a bit!”

shouto’s nostrils flared, his heart squeezing at the fact that you still showed him such kind and soft love, and so he nodded his head in agreement.

“I won’t take long,” you promised about your shower, and shouto smiled even if a bit emotionlessly before your lips pressed softly against his. “be right back, get ready.”

he wasn’t sure how long it took him to get ready and for you to join him in bed, but his eyes were opened and he was staring off at your side of the bed as you climbed into bed. the gentle, warm, and cool scent of your hair wash and body wash drafted into his nose, a very welcoming smell after months of knowing only the sterile smell of bleached walls and floors.

“you ready to talk?” you asked him, and shouto blinked once, twice, his sight refocusing on your shining eyes and furrowed brow. he knew immediately that you had a lot to speak on, most likely creating some sort of script to follow.

“no,” shouto couldn’t help but say, his own worries forgotten for a moment when the natural need to tease you infiltrated his veins. “but i’m ready to hear you talk.”

your lips pursed, twitching in a way that made it obvious to him at least that you were resisting the urge to verbally attack him.

“five months ago, I thought I was going to lose you.” you began, your eyes uncharacteristically dropping from his own gaze and trailing down his body, as if in disbelief that he was even here. your hands moved to his chest, pressing softly onto the skin that he was hateful towards. “when I got the news that you had been hospitalized, and that you had gone into a coma... I wasn’t sure what to think. but you woke up before I knew it and then four months went by after you woke up, and i’ve been so... grateful that you survived that I hadn’t even bothered to think about how you must be feeling about this entire thing. I know this is a lot of change, its a lot of change, and I don’t know how to really help, but this is what I think.”

shouto felt his breathing nearly stop as your fingers trailed down the fat on his arms, his chest and his stomach. your eyes almost shyly met his and you pressed a kiss to his lips, unwilling to allow him to think for a second that this was just some staged thing.

“your weight doesn’t define you. your weight doesn’t make you less desirable. does your weight make you fat? sure, it completely does, but there’s nothing wrong with being fat. fat is not ugly, fat is not weak, fat is not less. bodies need fat, its basic biology. without fat we can’t exist, we can’t do anything, and sure right now you have more than you’ve ever had - but it’s okay, you’re still healthy and that is what matters. i mean look at fat gum! sure, he needs to be fat in order for his quirk to work, but nevertheless, he’s fat and he’s a pro hero. he’s healthy and still he’s fat. if you would rather be skinny than fat, that’s okay, you can choose what you want to be, as long as it’s done with good intentions. at the end of the day you’re still my shouto, you’re the man I know and love because fat determines none of that. I love the fat on your body as much as I loved the abs because either way it’s you.”

the words rang heavy in his ears, all thoughts and reasons he had seemingly disappeared the moment the last word was said. and tears fell from his eyes when you kissed every spot on his body that he had once been dreadfully insecure about. every kiss to his stomach sent butterflies through every cell, every soft breath spreading chills until he was gasping for breath - until you were finally back to his face and pressing kisses to his face until he wrapped you closer.

“I love you in any form you take.”

a/n: it may not be my place to share this with you, but while writing this it actually reminded me of a ted talk I had seen once. I think its a very good talk, and dismantles a lot of mainstream thoughts about self love which I at least thought was important. if you were able to make it to the bottom of this, I suggest checking it out because as this video re-taught me, fat is not a synonym for ugly, and we should stop believing that it is.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader

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karliahs · 4 years ago

Text

please leave a light on when you go

oneshot - jontim - 2k words

written for @jontim-week day 2, prompts: night out / touch / secret

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

And here’s where Tim could say sure, wave him off and go back to moping, buy everyone an obligatory round, flex his meaningless chat muscles and be home by half 9. “Mind if I join you?” he asks instead, and to his surprise Jon nods immediately, as if he’d been hoping Tim would say that.

read on ao3! or below the cut:

There’s no reason for Tim to be here. The Institute has some weird policies, including a truly esoteric dress code, but it doesn’t have mandatory team-building night-outs. Tim has no reason to get to know his coworkers, no need to ingratiate himself to them beyond what he can get by smiling, making bland comments about his weekend plans and never microwaving fish in the breakroom.

The pub they’re in, somehow identical to every workplace-night-out pub he’s ever been to, seems to be having some sort of throwback night. Early-nineties hits play just loud enough to grate, and Tim eyes his new coworkers, trying to muster up some enthusiasm for striking up a conversation. He imagines what they might say if he told the truth. <i>Hi, I’m Timothy. I left behind a career in publishing to be a junior researcher so that I can hunt monsters like fucking Scooby Doo. If you need me, I’ll be chasing answers I’ll never find, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about them even if I did! Another round?</i>

Maybe that’s why he came tonight. To have these thoughts somewhere other than his flat. His little studio can only hold so much brooding.

He’s interrupted from his current round of brooding, first by an unsteady grab at his shoulder, then by a cascade of beer, then by a glass clattering onto the floor followed by a hush in the surrounding buzz of conversation. A quiet, posh voice swears, and Tim recognises one of his coworkers bending down to try and clean up the mess, though it takes him a moment to place the name.

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, glancing up at Tim before sheepishly looking back at the mess on the floor. Off to the side, a few tables give a sarcastic cheer and a round of applause. Tim worked food service long enough to instinctively dislike anyone who does this. He grabs some napkins and bends down to help Jon.

“Hey, no harm done,” Tim says, trying to remember how to sound friendly. He scoops up the somehow still-intact glass. “They’re wise enough to make them sturdy around here.”

Jon huffs, somewhat ineffectually blotting at the spreading puddle on the ground. “Did - your clothes, I didn’t, ah-”

“Only a glancing blow,” Tim answers, brushing at the damp spots by his hip. “And after I went to all this trouble to dress up for the occasion.”

Jon looks up in alarm, before registering that Tim hadn’t even bothered to change out of his work clothes. He gives a small, reluctant smile; one of the first expressions Tim’s seen from him that wasn’t some variant of thoughtful frown.

He’s seen Jon around a bit, in his few weeks at the Institute - about Tim’s age, relatively nondescript, tonight clad in a surprisingly lush leather jacket. Tim had made the mistake of asking him a couple of questions on his first day, when the person actually training him was on lunch. Jon had blustered and prevaricated for a few minutes before admitting it was only his second week in the job, so he didn’t actually know.

That was about the only time they’d interacted, though Tim had noticed a few other things. There were a few loose groups of friendships in Research, and Jon didn’t seem to be a part of any of them. He never seemed that steady on his feet, and he tended to avoid eating in public. He rarely asked for help, unless he needed something that would require him to use one of the library ladders, which he seemed determined to avoid. Tim had wondered idly about vertigo, or mobility issues, before reminding himself these weren’t the questions he was here to answer.

Tim had always noticed people, collected little details about them in his head whether he intended to or not, but he thinks his observations used to be about happier things, though it’s hard to remember exactly how he was, how he felt, before - it wasn’t the kind of thing he ever tried to memorise, the kind of thing he ever thought he could lose. Now he finds himself taking note of the coworker who comes back from their lunch break with faint puffy red marks around their eyes, or the older guy who checks his phone with something like dread in his eyes. Danny would have called it his older brother instincts (but what good did those instincts do him?).

Tim blinks back to the present, realising he’s been pushing a napkin over the same spot of floor for a while now. Jon offers him a hand up, though he braces himself on the bar with his other hand before he does. Tim takes care not to let Jon take too much of his weight as he’s hauled back up.

“Ah, thank you. And apologies, again,” Jon murmurs, gesturing awkwardly at Tim’s lightly-beered clothes.

“Happens to everyone,” Tim says easily. Jon still looks lightly anguished, and Tim silently wishes this could have happened to someone else, someone with the confidence to laugh it off. “I’m always convinced I’m going to drop something when I go in the silent study bit of the library,” Tim offers.

“Ah...that worry hadn’t actually occurred to me,” Jon replies, solemn enough that Tim can’t really tell if he’s joking.

Tim finger-guns. “Any other anxieties I can stir up while you’re over here?”

“I’m quite capable of stoking my own neuroses, thank you.”

Jon glances over his shoulder at the tables the rest of the department are occupying, perhaps doing the same thing as Tim and trying to psyche himself up for some more hollow smalltalk. Tim notes that his jacket seems slightly large on him, but in a way that kind of works. The collar of his shirt is slightly out of place beneath it. There’s a lump forming in Tim’s throat, even though nothing is happening - nothing but standing close to someone, noticing the little signs that they’re real and alive entirely independent from him. He’s aware, as he always is, of the hollow pit in his stomach, pain ebbing and flowing but never gone, new flares thrown off from a familiar wound, now pulsing with a kind of loneliness. All this, just from standing close to someone and trying to make them feel better about a mistake that didn’t matter.

“I...might go out for a smoke,” Jon murmurs eventually.

They duck outside to find dark clouds have given way to an anticlimactic drizzle. They stay close to the pub, shielded from the rain by the slight overhang of the roof. Jon fumbles with a lighter and Tim finds his gaze drifting over the rain-slick streets. It’s been a while since he’s been...anywhere, really, other than work and his flat. Longer than he can remember since he was outside in the never-quite-dark of the city.

Despite himself, Tim finds himself admiring the buildings across the way, modern painted shop-fronts on the ground floor giving way to weathered brick and occasional stone carvings above. It was the first thing he’d loved about London, how you only had to look up to catch a glimpse of its history, and it almost wounds him all over again, that that love isn’t gone too. It would be easier if he was just one thing, all the way lost. It would be easier if he didn’t still love the world that killed Danny.

Jon lights his cigarette, and silently holds the lighter out to Tim. Tim shakes his head, and Jon doesn’t question him about why he’s come out here if he doesn’t smoke. Doesn’t press about the way Tim must be looking; he knows he’s never had much of a poker face. Danny tried to teach him poker, on a visit home from uni; Tim left for six weeks and came back to playing cards and strategy guides everywhere - his brother, who never sit still even in his own head -

“Where were you, before this?” Jon asks. Tim wouldn’t have pegged him for a smoker, but he looks immediately more relaxed with a cigarette in his hands. Nice hands, too. It would be easier, if he didn’t-

“Publishing,” Tim answers, before he can drift again. He wants to say more, to make sure this undemanding presence isn’t going to leave his side, but his throat is still tight. “You?”

Jon frowns, as if debating something to himself, then gives a tiny rueful smile. “Tesco.”

Tim grins. “Was it a haunted Tesco?”

“Only by customers,” Jon replies, dry as bone.

The rain is picking up slightly, and both of them silently tuck further into their little alcove, bringing them shoulder to shoulder. The air tastes of smoke. Tim is watching moths in the streetlights above, partly out of fear that if he looks directly at Jon, he’ll realise how close they are and pull back.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Jon asks, voice hushed. He gestures and Tim follows the point of light with his eyes. “The smell, I mean?”

“Always kind of liked it,” Tim answers, matching Jon’s tone. Jon scoffs in disbelief. “What? You’re the one who inhales the things.”

“Exactly,” Jon says. “I have a biochemical justification for finding the smell tolerable. What’s your excuse?”

Tim spreads his hands, little spots of rain landing on his sleeve. “I never claimed to make sense.”

In the corner of his eye, Tim catches Jon hiding a smile with his next drag. It’s a good smile, one he wants to get a proper look at sometime. It’s as if now that he’s noticed one beautiful thing, he can’t stop seeing them: the buildings; the rain; the passing pair of drunk students across the way, walking arm in arm, holding each other up. There’s a curl of anger in his chest, that these things still get to exist, but for the moment it coexists with a kind of quiet warmth.

“You want to know a secret?” Tim asks, finally turning to look directly at Jon. Jon doesn’t speak, doesn’t nod, but he stares and waits, lights reflecting in his dark eyes, and for a moment Tim feels as though he must already know what Tim is going to say, that he can look into Tim’s eyes and learn everything he’s ever tried to hide. He can’t decide if it’s peaceful or terrifying.

Then Jon blinks and the feeling is gone, as quickly as it had come. “I like this party better,” Tim finishes, gesturing to the two of them. The things he could have said hang in the air between them.

Jon doesn’t quite manage to hide his smile this time, and yeah, that’s something Tim needs to see more of, all slow and crooked.

“Well,” Jon says, still in the same hushed voice, as if they’re sharing secrets. “If you ever need to borrow my smoking habit, get you out of an unpleasant social situation…”

“Knew that was why people smoked,” Tim says, nudging Jon’s shoulder with his own. “I’m not normally…” He trails off, unsure how to explain himself. Normally I’d care at least a bit, about all those people in there. Normally I’d at least have the energy to pretend.

Jon considers this half-finished thought for a long moment. “Abnormality is...rather the Institute’s specialty,” he offers eventually. Tim feels a kind of gratitude he can’t name or voice, so he doesn’t, just stands there listening to the rain while Jon finishes his cigarette, and for a long time after.

Not a bad night out, after all.

#jontimweek #the magnus archives #tma fic #jontim #new! thing!

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f0rever15elf · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Sorry

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: T Word count: 1,961 Warnings: Alcohol mention, swearing, drinking/getting drunk alone, angst, verbal fighting, no beta

Summary: All couples fight eventually, but this time leaves you questioning your relationship with Marcus

A/N: This is a fic for the following anonymous request: “ Hi!! I was wondering if your Pedro requests are still open? Cause if they are I’d like to request a Marcus Pike or Frankie Morales piece, where they like get into an argument with you and it’s like super angsty, but y’all make up in the end ((: “ I hope you enjoy it dear!

Masterlist | Ao3

“You absolute CHILD!” you shriek as you slam the door open, storming into the home you shared with Marcus.

“Oh, I’m the child?! You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum!” Marcus slams the door closed with just as much force as you slammed it open.

“Yes, Pike. You’re the child! I cannot believe you right now.” You wheel on him, stabbing your finger against his chest as you glare up at him. “Do you even realize how fucking embarrassed I am right now? I’m never going to be able to show my face at a work function ever again all because you decided to turn into a little green-eyed monster! Child!” Marcus snarls, grabbing your wrist to pull it away from his chest. His grip was firm, but even in the heat of the anger and jealousy you could see bubbling in his eyes, he was still gentle enough to not hurt you.

“And what would you have had me do, huh?! Just let your ex sit there and cozy up to you like that? He had his hands on you and his eyes hadn’t left you all freaking night!”

You yank your wrist from his grasp, absolutely seething. “We’re coworkers! We have an image to upkeep as far as being cordial with each other, especially in front of share holders! Marcus, there were investors there, and your little outburst has put every single deal involving them in jeopardy!” You rip your shoes off, the uncomfortable heels not aiding your mood in the slightest. “All because you got jealous of my ex. All because you couldn’t stand to see me being friendly with someone who use to be in my life. I have never done something like that to you! Not when your high school sweetheart left you flowers. Not when Lisbon sauntered her happy ass into your office, perched herself on you desk, and FIXED YOUR FUCKING HAIR!” Marcus’ nostrils flare as he towers over you, his voice low when he speaks again.

“Don’t bring them into this, this isn’t about them.”

“Oh like hell it isn’t! You know why I didn’t care about those two? Cause I was confident you wouldn’t do anything to hurt or betray me. Because I fucking love you and trust you! But apparently you don’t feel the same way, if your self confidence is so low that you can’t stand to see me laughing with my ex without deciding it’s an appropriate time to throw hands!” That was a low blow, and you knew it, but you were so angry the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. The two of you stand there in the living room, shoulders heaving as you pant for air. You could hear a pin drop, and the tension was so thick it felt suffocating. Slowly, the anger fades from Marcus’ eyes, replaced only with pain as his expression shifts. You cut him deep with that comment, you know you did, and it hurt to see that pain in his gentle eyes.

“M...Marcus…” Your voice is much softer now as you reach for his hand, but he takes a step back out of your reach, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he whispers, turning and grabbing the car keys from the bowl as he all but runs from the house. You stand there frozen, hand outstretched as you listen to the sound of the car engine starting followed by the tires squealing as he tears out of the driveway. Tears brim in your eyes, spilling over as you begin to tremble.

What have you done?

The minutes turn into hours as you sit in the dark of your living room, waiting on your Marcus to return. An empty wine bottle sits on the coffee table next to a second nearly empty one. You swirl the pale liquid in your glass before bringing it to your lips to down the rest of it. Your once manicured nails have been bitten down to the nail bed, a nasty habit of yours when your anxiety gets the better of you. A habit that hadn’t reared its ugly head since the day you met Marcus… Two in the morning and he still isn’t home and you’re getting worried. You had messed up, and big time. You know how much Marcus struggles with his own confidence after how Lisbon had treated him. You know that, and you still felt the need to fling it in his face. Words said out of anger, words you didn’t mean...you couldn’t take them back now, no matter how much you wished you could.

A fresh round of sobs bubble from your throat as your hand flies to your mouth in an attempt to hold them back. Marcus is the best thing to have ever happened to you, how the hell could you do something like this to him, no matter how angry you were. You rub your eyes, looking like a raccoon from the smeared makeup, before you stagger to your feet. You wanted Marcus. You needed him. You needed him here, at home, where you could apologize until your voice goes hoarse and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The world spins around you, the two bottles of wine catching up to you as you stagger through the living room before falling to your knees. You cradle your face in your hands, sobs wracking your chest. Please come home Marcus, please come home. You don’t hear the key in the lock over the sound of your sobs, but when you feel the rush of air from the door opening, your head snaps up, bleary eyes searching desperately for the love of your life.

“Marcus?” you whimper, barely audible.

“Oh, love...what did you do?” he murmurs as he shuts the door before coming to your side, cradling your cheek gently. Desperate hands reach out to grab his shirt, now wrinkled and untucked from his pants, his jacket missing and sleeves rolled to the elbows.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry Marcus!” you wail, collapsing against him. His gentle arms wrap around you and he sighs, resting his head on top of yours. “I s-shouldn’t h-ha-have said wh-what I did! I was wr-wrong and c-cruel! P-please d-don’t leave m-me!” you plead, trembling against him.

“Leave you? Darling, I wouldn’t do that to you.” He leans back and tilts your chin up to look at him, paying no mind to the black splotches your makeup leaves against his once crisp white button down. His thumb traces along your chin before his hand moves to cup your face, running his thumb along your cheek bone. “You smell like wine...how much have you had?” You shake your head, ignoring the question as you continue to cling to him, your sobs slowing.

“I love you and I d-din’t mean what I said,” you whimper. “Don go again, p-please don g-go again.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, I just needed to cool down. Calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.” He brushes your hair from your face as best he can before pulling you back against his chest, slowly rocking you in the middle of the floor. His hand pets your hair gently, soothingly as the remaining cries slowly abate. “Let’s get you to bed, love. Alright? We can discuss this more in the morning.” You mumble something unintelligible against his chest as he helps you stagger to your feet, guiding you to the bedroom. He carefully sits you on the bed, helping you undress down to your bra and underwear, removing your jewelry before going to get a warm cloth, helping to wipe your face. Finally, he hands you a glass of water which you stubbornly refuse at first. “Baby, please? For me?” You crumble, taking the glass and chugging it. He smiles and takes the glass back before gently laying you down so you’re slightly elevated.

When he joins you in bed you roll to snuggle against him, soaking in his warmth as he wraps his arms around you. The last words from your lips before you slip into unconsciousness are a very slurred I’m sorry.

The light of the day streaking across your face is what wakes you in the morning, and you groan as you come around, your head absolutely pounding. Your eyes feel like they’re full of sand and you can barely open them. Every joint in your body hurts and your mouth tastes like sandpaper. Slowly sitting up, you see a glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to two pain pills which you quickly take, downing the whole glass. As you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes in an attempt to dull the ache, last night comes rushing back to you and a wave of intense shame washes over you. A quiet rustling draws your attention to the door, and you seem Marcus peeking in. He gives you his gorgeous smile, one you feel you don’t deserve as he comes in.

“Good morning beautiful,” he whispers, knowing your head is probably killing you.

“Hi, Marcus…” He takes a seat on the bed next to you, taking your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit...for a few reasons.” You look down at your connected hands, yours fitting so perfectly into his. “I’m sorry.”

“Want to elaborate on that?” He asks gently, lifting your face to look at him. There is a pained light in his eyes still that grows when he sees the shame and sadness in your own.

“For everything. For yelling, for that low blow, for...for getting drunk alone, for accusing you of bullshit and...and I…” you begin to tremble, his hand on your face the only thing keeping the tears at bay. “And I was so terrible to you and I’m so sorry, Marcus, I’m so fucking sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as his hand leaves your face to place on the back of your head, pulling you against him. He smells as he always does, like cinnamon and coffee and his fresh aftershave and you use that smell to ground yourself.

“I’m sorry too, love of my life. I shouldn’t have behaved that way at the banquet, and I’ve already taken measures to mitigate what damage I may have done.” You shake your head, pulling back to look up at him.

“Screw the deals. They’re temporary.” You reach up to cup his cheek, your heart swelling as he leans into your touch. “You’re the one I’m in love with, the one I want to spend forever with. Everything else can burn to the ground, I just need you. I’ll always need you.” He smiles at you, that pain in his eyes fading as he watches you for a moment before leaning in to press his lips gently to yours. When he pulls back, he brushes your hair from your face before pressing his forehead to yours.

“We both acted like a couple of fools last night. Let’s put it behind us, ok? We’ll move forward and be better.” He takes your hand and places it over his heart. “It’s yours, completely and totally. I trust and love you with everything I am. I’ll be better, for you. For us.” Your eyes prickle with tears and you sniffle before leaning up to kiss him again.

“I love you too Marcus, so much. You’re my everything. I’ll be better for you, because you only deserve the best.”

He grins, placing a kiss on your nose. “Hey, that’s my line.”

You giggle softly, cuddling into him as he lays you back down to get a few more hours of rest. It’s all ok, you think. It’s all going to be ok. You still have your Marcus, and that is all that matters.

~~~~~

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

Text

Of Vices and Virtues

Chapter Twelve: What Are These Feelings?

AN: Up until now, this story has been rather lighthearted hasn’t it? Well, this chapter is not. I hope the chapter isn’t too confusing to read, the italics denote memories/the past.

Word Count: 4.4k

Trigger Warning: period era racism, racial abuse, racial slurs, sexual assault, torture, physical and mental abuse

Taglist: @azayamari

Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Claudia Walker

After the silent establishment between Erik and I on not discussing our night time conversation or the bathtub incident, things went back to normal between us. Well normal for us. I continued to find new ways to sass Erik and he still pretended I annoyed him. It was childish but fun. Pretty soon, the days turned into routine, days turning into a week, and then some. In fact, the dates would have blurred if it weren't for the constant announcements from the radio and the television. The routine was set and constant, running in the morning followed by physical training. After that, we went on with our individual training.

Today was no different, Charles had spent the day working on different tactics and ways of controlling the younger mutant abilities during their individual trainings with him. While I found myself entranced with the weight room. I had been dying to do something other than venture around. Something to waste time. I immediately went to the punching bag. I tied up my hair, wrapped my knuckles and feet, then got into my stance.

I closed my brown eyes, letting my surroundings fade, letting only the serene feeling of it just being me and the punching bag. I first just worked slowly on popping out each hand, as it carefully, but swiftly, hit the air. I did this for a minute, until I felt my hands were ready, and I began to move on to the bag. My left hand shot out, striking the bag with a fist, I was about to hit with my right as my fist threw forward, and connected with thin air. Dumbfounded, I opened my eyes in shock, and saw the bag levitating over my head. I whirled around, and found Erik with his brows raised at me.

"Give me back the bag," was my only demand.

"I think I might just leave it here," he snickered softly.

I pinched the brim of my nose, "Erik, I hope there's a reason for you coming in here other than being an annoyance,"

"As a matter of fact I do," Erik replied, the bag dropping to the ground behind me, as he started to move closer to me. "I was hoping to find you here actually," he stated, with his hands in his pockets.

"Why?"

"I have a question," Erik began. "Could you look into my head and know what moves I'm about to use on you?"

"Maybe, I could predict your movement by reading your emotional pulses," I guessed, shrugging my shoulders.

"How easy would it be to not do it?" Erik asked curiously.

I looked at him confused, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you see other people's emotions naturally? Or would you be able to stop yourself seeing how I'm about to attack you?" Erik elaborated.

I thought about his question for a while. I have never put that much thought into reading emotional pulses during a fight, I was mainly focused on everyday emotions and feelings.

"I could stop it. Block you off, so to speak," I finally replied, and he nodded.

"Good, do that,"

"Is this round two from our last little spar?" I asked, a grin on my face and Erik rolled his eyes, but he mirrored my grin.

The two of us stood for a moment, I was unsure of what exactly to do next, until Erik suddenly launched his fist towards me. I barely managed to block him, but didn't catch the kick to my shins, causing me to stumble. Erik continued to push me back, I could tell he was noting each failed block and each successful attack that I landed. Breathing heavily, I stepped back slightly and used my legs to my advantage, lashing out with a powerful front kick, spinning on the ball of my foot with a roundhouse kick, and continued the spin for a back kick.

That's when I felt Erik's foot on my rear and he pushed me off balance. Falling forward, I rolled and came up with fire in my eyes – and saw his smirk.

"Oh Claudia, for all your talk you're still simply a pretty face, not a force to be reckoned with," he taunted.

He was playing with me, trying to get a rise out of me.

"Damn this man to Hell," I thought.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I hopped up to my feet and raised my hands into a fighting stance, pure determination on my face to wipe the smirk off his face. I just needed to knock him on his ass one good time. Erik's fist blurred in front of my eyes and I nimbly slipped past the punch. The advantage was mine now, with a bob in my stance I unleashed a series of punches. Erik grinned at me, seeming proud that he caused me to show visible signs of frustration on my face. I think Erik was much too happy about it and dropped his guard because my fist flew right into his right eye. He slumped down on the ground with his hand to his eye momentarily stunned by the force of the punch I'd thrown.

"Oh my God! Erik I'm so sorry!" I hurried down to his side taking his head into my hands. "Let me see it!" I demanded, worry evident in my voice.

"I'm fine I swear!" Erik insisted taking his hand from his right eye.

"I'll be the judge of that thank you very much," I commented, placing my hand softly to his temple stroking his eye softly. "Does this hurt?" I asked, feeling guilty, but also an inkling of gratification at the same time.

"No, but that doesn't you should stop," Erik answered cheekily with his eyes closed contently.

"Ugh, I can't believe you!" I exclaimed smiling, letting his head drop with a soft thud.

I stood up and slipped my sneakers back on walking out the gym. I shook my head at Erik's antics and I could hear him coming from behind me. An arm wrapped itself around my shoulder and I peered up at him with an eyebrow arched.

"You always hit harder when I insult you," Erik commented, a grin on his face. "I guess I know what I need to do now," he added, and I rolled my eyes.

I folded my arms together as we made our way down the hallway, "Why, so I can end up like you?" I asked, a smirk forming on my lips. "Always running head first into everything and almost getting yourself killed," I pointed out, looking up at him again. "Although, I will say you had one interesting technique earlier..." I trailed off.

"And what was that?"

I stood on my tiptoes and leaned into Erik, "When you kicked me...I felt that you wanted a different...body part there instead," I whispered, drawing back from him.

Erik froze and laughter bubbled from my throat at his face. His eyes were wide, a stunned expression played on his face as I watched his cheeks slightly flushed with red. I clasped my hands together in front of me, smiling wildly as I moved away from the stock-still body of Erik.

"Thanks for the training Erik!"

~~~x~~~

It was late in the afternoon, and it was finally my turn to fine tune my abilities.

"I know you hate the idea of doing this, but it's for your benefit Claudia," Charles began, holding my hand in his own and I furrowed my brow as to where this was going. "I need you to lower your barriers for me," he continued, making my eyes widened and nostrils flare.

"What!" I yelped, my breathing began to quicken, becoming shallow. "No!" I exclaimed, shaking my head as I attempted to tug my hand away from Charles', but he kept a firm, yet gentle grip on it.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't be afraid. I've got you," he assured, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "It will be one quick test and then we'll be done, okay?" Charles asked, a soft smile on his as he gave my hand a small squeeze.

He looked at me waiting for my response, but I turned my head away from his gaze. Still breathing rapidly I clenched my eyes shut, remembering the last time I trusted someone with my barriers lowered. But this was Charles. Charles was kind. Sweet. The opposite of him. He'd never have any ill-intentions with me. I took a deep, shaky breath as I calmed myself down. Suddenly, I felt two soft hands cup my face and slowly opened my eyes to meet Charles' eyes. I could see the twinkle in his eye that would cause many women to simper.

"Claudia," he breathed, looking at me. "I would never hurt you," Charles promised, using his thumbs to stroke my cheeks.

I opened my mouth to speak, but paused and looked down. I took another few deep breaths before looking up at him.

"One test?" I repeated softly.

Charles nodded, "You have my word," he stated.

I wrapped my arms around myself, slowly nodding my head, "Okay...I'll do it," I agreed, mustering up a weak smile.

Charles smiled as well, "You're going to be fine," he reassured, before planting his lips on top of my head.

Removing his hands from my face, he backed away from me just as the sound of footsteps came to a stop at the entrance of the library.

"Everything alright in here?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow and looking between Charles and I before resting one arm on the frame of the door.

Charles flashed him a smile, "We're fine, I was just reassuring Claudia about her training," he explained, rolling up his sleeves

"So, we're all set then?" Erik questioned, pushing off the frame and closing the door behind him.

I arched an eyebrow, "You knew about this too?" I asked, my eyes slightly widening.

Erik nodded, "Charles knew you would be uncomfortable with this, so he asked me to be here as well to lessen your anxiety," Erik explained, walking over to where Charles and I were.

"Now Claudia, I want you to focus very carefully. Use your emotions to try and block me out," Charles instructed. "I want to see how quickly you can raise your mental shield on command,"

My expression was tinged with worry, "And what if it goes wrong?" I asked, looking between the two men.

"It won't," Charles comforted me.

I took a deep breath, my brows knitting together, "Fine," I sighed, closing my eyes I began to slowly lower my mental shield letting my mind be filled with the raw sensations and feelings coming from everyone in the mansion. Reopening my eyes I faced Charles. "Ready?" I asked nervously, starting to play with my hands.

He nodded, "On my count okay?" Charles asked, and I exhaled loudly while nodding my head as well. "Three...Two...One..." he counted, before he lifted two fingers to his temple as I raised my mental shield.

My eyes fluttered closed as I summoned all of the anger and fear that was coursing through me to block Charles from my mind. A sharp pain ripped through my head and a gasp escaped from my lips as I opened my eyes. The room started to spin and slow down, and the next thing I know, it's gone black. When I wake up, I am lying on soft grass. Grass? I sit up, rubbing my head. Looking around I see Charles and Erik do the same. What happened? Where are we?

"Claudia!"

I turned around and saw a caucasian teenage boy with brown hair gelled to the side and horn-rimmed glasses walking towards me. He looked about seventeen. I gasped as I realized who it is.

"James?" I asked the boy, bewildered.

But he doesn't stop, he runs right through me, as if I wasn't even there. Standing up, I looked around. Everything's slightly misty and fuzzy, and it takes me a while to realize where we are. We're in the meadow I used to play in as a child. I watch as my childhood friend, James, ran towards a teenage girl with medium length, black hair.

"Who is that?" Erik asked, arching a brow.

"It's me," I whispered, as a lone tear slipped down my face as I recalled happier times.

James was the first person outside of my family I ever told about my mutation. We became very close friends. I always felt my mother and father thought I was a freak even though they said that I wasn't. Still, I isolated myself, spending hours in this very meadow, lying in the daisies next to the river. I watched as James and my younger self laugh about something hysterically, and a small laugh escaped my mouth.

"This is most peculiar..." Charles muttered.

Erik and Charles moved closer to me, unsure of what is going on. I smiled at my younger self's happiness. What I'd give to be like that again.

James rolled over to his side, and wrapped one arm around my younger self's waist and leaned down, kissing her. His kisses were always soft and comforting. James rolled over to lay on his back and said something that caused them both to laugh. Suddenly, five teenage boys appear in the meadow.

I recognize them immediately, and my mouth fell open in horror as I realized what I'm about to witness. Again.

"No..." I whispered, almost breathlessly. "No!" I screamed, much louder, and Charles grabbed my hand.

The leader of the teenage boys, stalking towards them and they both stand up as James pushed my younger self behind him. Within a blink of an eye, the leader of the group landed a vicious punch on James' face and he fell to the ground, his nose bleeding. The three teenage boys yanked her from her spot as the other pair of teenage boys grabbed the struggling James and pinned him against the tree on the river bank. While my younger self was having a heated debate with the teenage boys.

Although I couldn't hear it. I knew exactly what they're saying. The four boys had heard that James and I were dating, and they had to teach this "negro lover" a lesson. They wanted to get rid of him and I knew, I was next. I don't have time to close my eyes as the knife is thrust into James' stomach. I heard a blood-curdling scream coming from the seventeen-year-old me. I could feel Charles recoil in horror and out of the corner of my eye I saw Erik had the same reaction. I watched, all over again, as James' body slumped lifelessly to the ground and the boys turn on me. Knowing what happens next.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and roughly threw her onto her back so that she was staring upwards into the faces of the three boys that were her age. One of them crouched over her, the one with those dead blue eyes, only now they were laughing in a way that made her scalp prickle with dread. The ringleader grabbed her by the arm and tugged her roughly off the ground.

"You know what, maybe our buddy James was onto something. She's pretty easy on the eyes for a negro," he rasped, an evil smirk forming on his lips as he tightened his grip around her arms.

And then before she knew it, he had grabbed her face in one of his meaty hands, and forced her mouth to his.

"Get off! Get off, get off, get off!" her thoughts screamed.

She tried to pull back with a mixture of shock and utter revulsion, but his friends were all around her, hands seizing her coat and hair, eager voices egging him on, laughing and leering as she struggled to break free. No one had been this close, without her permission. No one. And no one had the right to ever be this close, to ever touch her as he was doing now. His hand was on her waist and traveling even lower, and all she wanted was for him to stop it, stop it right now. She wriggled, clawed frantically, bucking and juddering against iron-clad hands like a rabbit caught in a snare, but he only mashed his face further into hers.

And suddenly there was so much rage contained inside her head, so much pure anger and hatred seething within her skull, that she felt that she might burst. Heat raced through her blood, a fire that she never felt before, that she hadn't allowed herself to feel in the pretense of being normal. But now this monster had crossed a line, was touching her in ways that left her feeling exposed and violated, like her skin had been torn away from her very soul to be gawked at. Murdering the boy she loved because he had the audacity to not care about her skin color and wanted to date her.

So perhaps this once she was at liberties to cross her very own line.

All she could see was red, as she pulled back furiously, lashing out in any way possible much to the amusement of my audience. Her skin grew warm, then hot, then boiling, thrumming with energy, the hairs along her arms rippling from the magnitude of it, far stronger than she could have possibly comprehended. Seventeen-year-old Claudia, in an enraged frenzy, outstretched her palm and a jolt of crackling purple energy roared from it, the distant ring of screaming in her ears, a warm tingle that played over her skin as the remaining energy fizzled and dissolved, melting back into the nothingness from which it had erupted.

Then...silence.

When the filter of red was lifted from her eyes and she dazedly took in her surroundings. One of the boys was at the base of a the tree, he wasn't moving and his neck looked deformed, the other boy was knocked into the river unconscious. Their ringleader's face was puffy and blistered, having borne the brunt of the attack, pus oozing from the more severe of the burns. She turned her head to see a deputy sprinting towards her, yelling for me to run. It was James' older brother John. By this point, John had reached her and she had a horrified expression on her face, matching the other teenage boy's as John tried pulling her away.

"Not only is she a negro, she's a freak!" One of the two remaining boys hurled the insult toward her.

She snapped back and yelled something at them and instantly one boy turned toward the river. Then, with no explanation, lowered his head into water and he drowned himself. The boy that murdered James took the knife that he was holding and slid it across his throat, silting his throat from ear to ear and a crimson liquid spilled from his throat, before he dropped to the ground.

She grabbed John by the chin and began to speak to him in a hurried tone, as if he had fallen into a daze, he gave a sluggish nod, and then slowly walked back towards his car to call in the crime scene.

My stomach churned and my heart pounded fiercely against my chest just as the image shifted and I let out a shaky breath, gasping for air. The memory had always haunted me, but I never thought I would have to witness James' murder again. As our surroundings change into a busy street. I had tears in my eyes, and I furiously wiped them away as new ones came trickling down my cheek. I turned and saw that Charles and Erik were staring at me. Charles' eyes were glazed as if he wanted to cry and Erik just looking at me with something like pity.

"What's happening?" I yelled at Charles.

"I must have pushed into your mind, your empathy mutation is allowing us to see your memories," he speculated.

Slowly, I spun around taking in our new surroundings, it was growing close to springtime and the streets of Washington D.C. were chalk full of busy people, rushing to get to somewhere they needed to be. Men and women hurried from work to get home, the elderly fed pigeons, and kids ran off out of their schools. It seemed like everyone had somewhere to go.

I let out jagged breaths as I shook my head now remembering why this day was a significant memory for me. A large hand laid down on my shoulder and I whipped around to see Erik standing next to me, looking mildly concerned.

"I'm fine," I stated automatically, pushing my hair out of my face with a shaky hand.

Erik looked unconvinced, but unsure of what exactly to do. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted when I gave out another gasp. I stepped closer to the wide window in front of us and peered in.

There was a young woman sitting at a table, absentmindedly running her finger along the rough wood of the tabletop next to her novel. She had lived there for almost two years and frankly was growing rather restless. It had been about a month, or maybe two since her boyfriend broke up with her because she was a mutant. She looked out the window that she was seated next to, watching as people walked by enjoying the company of others.

That was until she felt like she was being watched, her head snapped from the window and landed on a tall, tawny brown skin man. His dark brown eyes watching her curiously behind his round frames. His crisp white shirt stood out against the dim lit bar along with his smart grey slacks. Slowly, the man approached her and slid into the empty seat across from her, now she could fully see how handsome this stranger was. It was clear that the man was fit, you could the outline of his muscles underneath his shirt.

"Hello. Are you Claudia Walker?" she nodded slowly, and the man watched as her eyes became guarded.

The open book lay forgotten next to her.

"Who wants to know?" Claudia asked back, and the man smiled despite her rude and blunt attitude.

"My name is Professor Harry Lewis, I teach at Howard, and Miss Walker I believed you are a very gifted young woman," he complimented, flashing her with another smile.

She wanted to tell him that what she has wasn't a gift. It was a curse. But she didn't.

"Um, thank you Professor, but I-uh I promise that I'm not that gifted. My academics are great, but it's not better some of the students at the university," she pointed out.

"You think I'm talking about your academic performance Miss Walker? Oh, no, no, I'm talking what really makes you special, my dear,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, feigning a perplexed expression which was also expressed in her tone of voice.

Professor Lewis reached across the table and gently grasped her hand, his cold hands caressed her heated skin.

"I really do know what you are, Claudia Walker. I am here to help you, not hurt you,"

She jumped, it was Professor Lewis' voice, but in her mind? Maybe it wasn't, maybe she was going crazy.

"I can assure you, your sanity isn't to be questioned,"

There it was, again.

"Whatever you want. I want no part in it. I just want to live a normal life!" She whispered harshly, and went to stand up.

Professor Lewis gently tugged her back down with his hand, "Listen, let me explain first," he said, and Claudia slowly sat back down as he let go her hand. Professor Lewis slid from his seat across from Claudia and sat next to her. "Thank you," he sighed, turning his body to face her. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I heard your thoughts a few days ago about not having enough money to finish college, and I thought I could be of assistance,"

"How?"

"I'm running a lab for people like us, all you have to do is participate in some tests and then poof, your financial aid problems are gone," he explained, a charming smile appearing on his full lips, where a tiny gap between his front teeth could be seen. "And who knows, maybe I can teach you how to control your abilities better," he added, with a shrug. "I am a professor, after all," he joked, maintaining his smile.

And now he had her intrigued – what if there was a way? What if she could manage some semblance of control over this? What if some day she could look into someone's eyes without the fear of experiencing pain and rage and despair and love and roiling, frothing emotion trying to burn her alive?

"Sign me up," she answered quickly.

Professor Lewis clapped his hands together, a smile on his face, "Wonderful!" he cheered happily. "Now tell me about your powers Claudia," he stated.

"Well with my empathy, I guess I entrance people if I focus hard enough," she answered unsurely. "And there are times when my emotions affects everybody I'm in the room with," she explained.

"Wow," Professor Lewis commented, almost like he was very eager to please her. "So, you can control people?" he questioned curiously.

She bit her lip, "I've always hated that word when it comes to describing my ability," she said, letting out a nervous chuckle and turning away.

Professor Lewis grabbed gently by her chin with one of his cold hands. A shudder went through her and heat flushed in her cheeks.

"Embrace it Claudia, because you have the power to influence the world around you," he encouraged, before releasing her chin. After another deep look into her eyes he took her hand and raised it to his lips. "My dear, you and I are going to accomplish great things together," he whispered and his lips softly touched her knuckles, which caused her cheeks heat up even more. He rose elegantly to his feet and with a last look at her he turned around and started to walk away, leaving her confused.

My ankles wobbled to the side as I stumbled back a few steps from the diner window. I would have fell to the ground had it not been for two pair of arms steadying me onto my feet.

"Claudia, who is he?" Erik asked softly, and I looked up at him with effort.

"A horrible mistake,"

Chapter Fourteen: A Never-Ending Nightmare

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