#I’m mad and disappointed and hurt all at once

[buckybarnesandmarvel]

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥

pairings: bucky x reader

summary: bucky hates his scars, he hates how he got them, he hates how they look and somehow he’s convinced himself that you hate them too. obviously, that’s not true

warnings: scars, self-hatred, some angst, sad!bucky, cursing, fluffy ending

a/n: sticking to a schedule?? who is she?! just a little blurb today, though :)

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He hated them. Every time he took in his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror, his eyes were immediately drawn to the jagged lines that marred his skin. They were all over his body, reminders of the pain and torture he had to endure with HYDRA, but the worst were the ones that connected metal to skin. He still gets flashes, memories, nightmares, of clawing at his skin, his nails drawing blood at his shoulder as he tries to pry his body away from the filthy weapon they had given him.

His eyes pricked with tears of frustration as he shoved on one of his many long-sleeve Henleys, that clung to his biceps, hiding the horrendous marks that corrupted his skin.

You smiled as he left the bathroom, coming to your shared bed, not noticing the masked look on his face.

“Hey, handsome.“

Bucky could almost scoff at your words. In his mind, he was anything but. Shitty thoughts invaded his brain, how could you love him when he looked like that? How could you not recoil every time you saw the scarred flesh? How could you still look at him, with so much love and adoration in your eyes when he looked like he did? Like a monster. How, how, how?!

You reached out for him, setting your book down, a smile on your face. The both of you had been busy today, barely having time to see each other. You reached out for him, your hands curling around his, pulling him down onto the bed.

Bucky swallowed as he took in your attire, a small, skimpy, sating nightdress, that barely reached mid-thigh. He knew were this was going, he knew what you wanted, he just had to come up with a way to stop it before you finally realised you were better than him.

Part of him knew he was being irrational, the two of you had had sex countless times in the past. Part of him knew you loved him just the way he was, you loved him for him. Part of him knew you didn’t care about the lightning shaped clusters of damaged skin that littered his body, but the thoughts kept plaguing him. It was like a leaking pipe in a small room, dripping slowly until it drowned him. You would realise your worth, you were better than him, better than his past, better than his nightmares, better that his disfigured body and once you realised that, you would leave. And that was a thought Bucky couldn’t bear.

He lay in bed, but pulled the covers tightly over you, shutting the lights so he wouldn’t have to endure the disappointed expression on your face. He closed his eyes, still silent and tried to focus on his breathing, when he felt your soft hands snake under his shirt against his toned torso. He tenses, his eyes screwing shut tighter as he tried not to give in to your touch.

“Bucky...”

Your hands massaged his waist and abs, roaming over the hard muscles and the climbed higher and higher. Just as he felt your fingers brush against the scars on his shoulder, he took your wrists in his hands and shoved them out of his Henley. Your eyes widened slightly in shock and as you started to try again, you were stopped again but his larger hands.

“Stop it, doll. I’m not in the mood, today.”

“Buck-”

“I said no.”

His tone was cold, curt, final. You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. It had been like this for days and you didn't know why. Bucky wouldn't let you touch him or love him like you wanted to, and honestly, it was driving you a bit mad. You let out a small, almost inaudible sigh and roll over, facing away from Bucky as you tried to stop the tears from falling.

Bucky's supersoldier hearing picks up on your small, dejected sigh and it tugs at his heartstrings. His jaw clenches and, as much as his self-hatred is at an all time high, he hated seeing you upset more. He hesitate before sitting up and turning on the bedside lamp again, looking over your curled up form.

"Doll..."

You don't reply and he sighs, rolling you over easily and then taking your cheek in his palm. He saw how your beautiful eyes didn't meet his and he tried not to cry and take you into his arms.

"Doll, look at me... please."

His words are a whisper as he tilts your head a little up, but the pleading tone is barely concealed. Your walls crumble and you look up at him and he takes in your watery eyes, the sight killing him.

"I'm so sorry, sweeth-"

"Is it me?"

Bucky's eyes widen, he wasn't expecting you to say that.

"Is what you, doll?"

"Why you won't let me touch you. Is it me? Did I do something-"

You sit up, now properly facing Bucky, his hand no longer cupping your cheek.

"-because it's almost it been a week and I can't help thinking if I've done something by accident o-or-?"

Bucky can practically feel his heart break at your insecure tone.

"No, doll, don't say that, please, never-" he takes a deep breath, pushing down the lump in his throat. He whispers, "I'm a monster, doll, a monster. I'm hideous, my scars, my arm, my flesh. Every day I look in the mirror and I can't seem to think why your want to be with me. I'm... broken. I'm broken, doll and it shouldn't be on you to fix, it's my problem, not yours, but I don't want you to touch me, to see the... ugliness... I don't want you to leave me."

His voice breaks, sounding exactly how he feels on the inside. Broken, defeated, small. He can't bear to meet your eyes, dreading to find a single shred of disgust or disappointment or whatever may ring his stupid fucking brain could conjure up.

You, on the other hand, let the tears fall, looking at Bucky, the man you thought was the most handsome in the world, no, the universe, or, even better yet, any of the multiverses talk about himself in such a way. Without hesitation, you slide into his lap, your legs on either side of his thick thighs. You look into his oceanic eyes, seeing the self loathing in them. You repeated your earlier actions and slid your fingers under his shirt again. You felt him tense once again but this time, he didn't stop you. You pulled the shirt over his head and discarded it on the floor before taking his cheek and turning his face to face you.

"You're gorgeous. And this isn't some 'you're my girlfriend, you have to say that-thing', you are drop dead, jaw dropping handsome, my love. And I know you can't see that now, but I swear to you, Buck, I will spend eternity proving it to you if I have to."

His eyes fill with tears as your fingers trace over the lines on his shoulder.

"These scars don't make you ugly, they make you brave, they make you strong, they make you unique, you, they make you you."

You place a kiss on the border between metal and flesh.

"These scars are a part of you, whether you like it or not. They're a part of you, but that also just means I love them as equally as I love you, Bucky. It will only be you. It will only ever be you. No one else, not in a million years, not in any universe. I want, my scarred, handsome supersoldier, but only if he promises to try and learn to love himself as much as I do. For me."

Words are caught in his throat, his heart bursting with love for you. He lets the tears fall as he sobs against you, holding you like a lifeline. But between his broken, child-like cries, you feel a subtly nod and a couple seconds later, his muffled speech.

"I promise."

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okay, so a little longer than a blurb

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tags:

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[zootopiathingz]

So apparently two of my co-workers were talking shit about me and another new hire bc we’re “dead weight” and said that we should get less hours or just quit. Another girl overheard them and reported them to the manager and they got in trouble. I didn’t know about this until today so idk when this happened but man I’m so pissed

[hotchfiles]

— help me hold onto you • aaron hotchner

fem!reader, unprotected vaginal sex, a bit of angst.

      He knew he would be in trouble whenever he turned those keys. What he wasn’t expecting was how big the trouble would be. He had no idea he would open the door to three bags full of clothes and other things he left at your place as the months passed, waiting for him.

      “Darling? What–What are these?” He asks even though he knows the answer, hoping you want to at least talk about it before making any harsh decisions. You’ve been in a relationship for almost a year now and it works. It always worked.

      Normally you wouldn’t drink before an argument, still when he gets to the kitchen he sees you calmly sipping on a tall glass of wine, fingers tapping on the table, hair up, face clean but red, you were in your pajamas already, nothing like you probably looked hours before.

      “What’s the only thing I asked of you, Aaron?” You don’t move, don’t glance up at him, eyes focused solely on how the purplish red liquid moved in your glass, taking a big sip right after.

      Aaron sighs in frustration, he didn’t want this to become a fight. He was so tired. “I know, I’m sorry–”

      “Answer the question, please.”

      “Don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He takes his tie off quickly, suddenly feeling suffocated by the fabric surrounding his neck. That’s why your relationship worked, you knew he was busy and his schedule was unpredictable, so very early on you accepted it as it was, saying you wouldn’t be mad at him as long as he didn’t break any promises. If you’re not sure, don’t promise me you will be able to make it.

      First months he wouldn’t promise you anything, too afraid to break it, to disappoint you.

      He watches as you take the wine in a mouthful and refills the glass, the bottle now empty and starts getting frustrated, you’re a loud drunk and you’re surely already getting tipsy.

      This was the first time he slipped up, it didn’t need to be such a big deal, it didn’t avail to having his things right at the door as if he was getting kicked out. All the other times he promised he could take time off, he did it. Just–Teens were getting kidnapped, the team needed him.

      “We saved two girls today.” Low blow. But it was true, he wasn’t back in time because of that, he got on the jet instead of staying back to do that. To save two thirteen year old girls. Not some futile reason. It had to count for something.

      “I’m proud of you for that, Aaron. Are you proud of me? For the promotion we were supposed to celebrate with my boss? Or are our accomplishments only worth it when it’s about saving someone?” You raise your voice only slightly, the alcohol from the sweet wine getting to you slowly and then all at once.

      You always tried your best to keep your voice down when arguing with him, simply because he never raised his, and it could be an endearing feature if it didn’t look like he did it to look like the rational one, the right one.

      “That’s not what i said–”

      “I know what you said. You want to make the fact you let me down okay because you did a wonderful thing someplace else. That’s not how it works.” You open the second bottle of wine of the night, feeling his eyes on your back. “I want you to leave.”

      “You know this is ridiculous, you’re acting like a child.” Sore spot. You were a few years younger and that had never been a problem. But he couldn’t go back now, he could see the anger darkening your eyes, your knuckles turning white by the strength you’re using to grip on the edge of the table.

      “How am I a child?” You begin slowly and keeping your voice down, you get up finally from the chair you had been sitting, facing him directly, his instincts make him try to touch your arms, but you dodge it quickly. “We had an agreement. You broke it. Am I a child for not giving you permission to hurt me again?”

      He knows you’re about to snap, your chest coming up and down in rapid breaths, and he doesn’t feel particularly in the right, he knows he screwed up and he’s sorry, but your reaction is out of proportion to him, an exaggeration made to make him feel more guilty than he already does. “I said you’re acting like a child. The one time things don’t go your way and you’re packing me out?” Aaron almost feels the sharpness of a slap but he’s quick enough to grab your wrist. “See? proving my point.”

      “How many times do I have to accept you screwing up so I can be seen as mature?” You yank your arm out of his grip and go back to your drink, “Same times as Haley? How many times did she forgive you so you could go around and do it all again?”

      Lower blow.

      Hotch feels it right in his core and he’s angry at you for bringing up but more so angry at himself because you were right. Still, it is anger nonetheless that guides his next actions, quickly and firmly walking up to you, caging you against the table in sudden movements.

      Your breath hitches from the surprise, and your attempt to move is stopped by his roughed hands on your chin, firm but never close to hurting. “I’m not leaving.” You wince, not in fear of him, but of how easy he can make your mind go blank when he’s that close.

      His eyes go from your eyes to your lips, he notices your failed attempt to conceal the way you licked your lips, he glances at your chest, heavy breathing under your thin pajama shirt, nipples hardening against the fabric.

      Damn you for choosing wine.

      Hotch reads your mind almost, but his smirk doesn’t last too long displayed on his lips, your hands pulling him by the neck, a low groan followed by a “Fuck this” leaving your wine tasting lips just mere seconds before gluing to his.

      Eager to get your forgiveness, he is quick to follow your lead, both hands sneaking under your clothes, one down the waistband of your shorts, grabbing hard on the flesh of your ass, the other drawing soft circles on your nipple.

      You melt into the kiss, his lips, his hands, his scent, him. And you have no time to feel bad about it, pulled up to sit on the table, legs around his waist, you can feel how hard he is against your wetness.

      A pained whimper leaves his lips when you use the new position to grind onto him, needing something, anything against your clit at this point.

      Aaron sinks his teeth into your bottom lip to get your full attention, earning a loud moan in response, his hands travel your thighs and you pull his shirt out his pants so you can feel his skin under your fingertips, not bothering to unbutton them and working with what you got under it.

      His lips travel your neck and your collarbone, “I love you, so, so much”. His declaration comes in between kisses and the sucking of your skin, “Please don’t make me leave after this.” It comes in a whisper now, but he doesn’t stop, pushing your shorts down and sliding it down till it drops to the floor with your help.

      “Just shut up and take your pants off.”

      “You know I can only do one of those.” It makes you laugh and you sink your nails to the bit of fat on his side, the tiniest bit of annoyance at how easy he had you in the palm of his hand and how he didn’t even seem to know it truly.

      On the edge of the table sliding his hard cock into your folds was an easy feat, pants, shoes and his boxers long gone, his socks stayed on almost making him lose balance as he feels just how wet you are. He drops his head, forehead on your shoulder

      “Fuck—Oh my god, you are so wet, you’re always so wet for me.” It isn’t arrogant, it’s appreciative almost, you move his head so you can look at him, hot, sweaty already, cheeks so red as his eyes were glassy, the mix of lust and love and regret clear in his dark caramel irises.

      You kiss him once more, sweet, forgiving and he takes this as his sign to continue, pushing you down the table, Hotch holds your thighs for support, plunging his cock into your wet cunt with ease, bottoming out at the first thrust. You enjoyed the stretching pain and you never had the patience to wait.

      Lower lips between your teeth, you slide one of your hands to your clit, two fingers working your arousal, quickly replaced by Aaron’s calloused fingers. You arch your back and moan loudly, “Fuck, yes, and move.”

      It feels like an order and for Hotch it is one, he is delighted to oblige, maintaining the same finger moves on your clit and beginning to fuck your pussy, strong, firm and precise at first.

      “Honey, fuck—Please…” His begging is meant to warn you that if you keep clenching around him he won’t be able to control himself, you almost don’t listen, fingers working on your own nipples enjoying the high he is always able to get you in.

      “Aaron—I’m… Fuck, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

      The praising, the guidance, the reassurance, it makes the moans leaving his lips seem like whining, he enjoys it too much.

      “Yeah? Like this?” The way your hands try to grab him is enough answer to him, along with how tight your pussy is throbbing against him, you’re almost there, he can feel it.

      His movements on your clit get sloppier, the sight and sound of your wetness against his digits making him go insane. Your back arches once more and your whole body begin to squirm, the tight coil in your lower belly finally ripping, “Yes, fuck—“ You’re breathless, weak, but you still have it in you to edge him in, “Aaron, baby, cum for me, please.”

      He would be crazy to do anything but, so quickly you ask him and his hands are hoisting both your legs over his shoulders, getting a new, deeper position, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him filling you up, “I can’t live without you, you’re so, so good for me” His lasts broken words before letting himself go.

      You don’t move and neither does he, his dick softening inside you, his hands caging you in the table and his head dropped to his chest, both just trying to recover.

      “Aaron?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “You can stay.” He looks at you with nothing but love and happiness and gratitude, “But if you screw up again do not try fucking me into forgiving you, I’ll chop your dick off.”

      “You like it too much to do that.” His grin is sincere, feeling finally free to joke around you, he gets out of you and you whine at the loss. “See?”

      “Bite me.”

      “Gladly.”

[xazse]

Hello z! Just wanted to say your writing is so yummy and keeps me and the rest of your followers so full😋 BTW! More puppy girl hybrid?? (P.s this is my first request 🙂‍↕️❤️)

PT 2 OF MY MOST RECENT PUPPYGIRL!HYBRID FIC FOR THOSE WHO ASKED!!

PT1 HERE

Notes: IM SO HAPPY IM UR FIRST REQUESTEE! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!! And I’m super glad you enjoy my writing it really means a lot<33

Warnings: Hybrid!Gojo + fem!reader + PuppyHybrid!Reader + smut + small Drabble + not proofread + brat!reader + little bit of sub!Satoru + nipple!teasing + slight crying + overstimulation + mean!Suguru + exhibition

People who asked to be tagged: @qmsvpx @sugurubabe @shokosbunny @rinsluhvr @fuyuji-ii @mashtura @wisteriaflowersss @kickenkricken @rinsluhvr @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni I hope you guys enjoy!

WolfHybrid!Gojo who really can’t take all the teasing you’ve been putting him through. After the first incident Suguru made it 100 percent clear to you specifically that you are to not touch Satoru like that again, who knows what will happen if he’s not around. He’s not scared Satoru will hurt you but he should be eased into the world of pleasure not immediately made to cum on himself his first day in what is now his home.

Suguru scolds you bad, telling you how disappointed he is, how you know better! He knows how needy hybrids get especially your species but the toys he supplies for you should be more than enough. All you did in retaliation was make it a goal to ruin Satoru… poor thing why is he the victim in all of this? And yet he doesn’t even know.

You ignore Suguru’s rule when it’s just you and Satoru in the house.

You make an effort to rub yourself all over his body while wearing the thinnest layer of clothing, when he’s laying on the couch facing the ceiling you’ll come lifting his shirt up and licking all over his chest, even sucking on his nipples as extra stimulation. You love his reactions, everything makes him fully hard and his loud moans fill the empty living room. He can’t process what to do with this pleasure besides grabbing and fondling his cock until he’s finishing in his pants again.

It doesn’t take long for him to be hard all over again, and for you to repeat the process. If he asks if you can help him feel like that again you’ll force him to rub your ears for a good five minutes.

WolfHybrid!Gojo who gets to feel what it’s like being balls deep in your cunt, when you sink your nice ass to meet his pelvis, the poor wolf is fucking gone, he’s never felt something so tight around his cock, he’s never felt anything around his cock! Your plush walls squeeze him so good that he’s having a hard time forming sentences let alone words, all that’s slipping from his pretty slippery pink lips are moans, moans that emphasize how his balls are tightening and he’s cumming deep inside you.

You’re quick to start bouncing so cutely on him, your floppy ears bouncing along with you. Your toys don’t compare to Satoru’s thick cock, how has a woman never felt something like this? You can feel the twitching of his veins as he gets it up once again. You peek at his face to find the wolfman ruined, drool seeps from the corners of his lips and tears are decorating his lash lines.

When you finally cum, it’s a damn mess, the mixture of you two sit where you meet and seep out. The pleasure in the moment doesn’t have you thinking of what Suguru will do to you, doesn’t matter what he will do to the both of you, all you can think of is grinding down on Satoru’s cock for another orgasm.

Bonus!

Suguru is fucking furious, he was mad the first time but he let it slide since it simple curiosity on both sides. The simple curiosity has gone too far, you don’t fucking listen. Since the moment he had welcomed you into his home a few years back he’s had a hard time getting you to listen to directions.

He doesn’t hear you out when he drags you and Satoru to the bedroom, in fact he tells the both of you to keep going. You find yourselves shy under his eye and insist that you’ve both learned your lesson from his lecture earlier. He wasn’t really lecturing Satoru since he doesn’t know the rules as well as you do but this is a great learning moment.

He ignores you, ignores how you’re using the sweet eyes with him, he’s dead serious.

You’re quick to obey and incite a small kiss with Satoru, that turns into a full on make-out with Suguru watching intently.

The rest of the night is filled with moans and groans of complaints, Suguru had told Satoru to let any lewd feelings he had all on you, Satoru does not hold back at all, he fucks his thick cock into your sensitive walls over and over, the mess from earlier helps as to not hurt you so it’s so easy for him to slide back and forth. Satoru found himself ecstatic at the start but when he finds his cock overstimulated and his balls hurting from the painful pleasure he’s not feeling the same, but he for some reason won’t stop his hips from moving, he loves the feeling of having you cum around him nonstop, he loves Suguru watching him so intently, everything mixed together.

Your clit is so slippery that it’s hard to pinpoint where you should be rubbing, everytime you stop Suguru is quick to snap at you to keep going, this is what you wanted correct? He makes sure to ask that out loud, you’re so fucking adorable with the way you nod in his direction, he knows you have a few more in you.

[sixosix]

m m m m maybe blanket plus yuuta plus hurt/comfort maybe. maybe 🤞

in which rika likes you because yuuta definitely, definitely does.

warnings wc 800, mention of injuries and descriptions of blood !! careful when u read <3 also i took hurt comfort literally BWHAHSAH hope i did your expectations justice nyx ily

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

“Yuuta. Yuuuuta.”

Rika’s voice echoed in the quiet hall. Yuuta winced, wishing Rika would keep it down; it was 2 AM, and no one would appreciate being woken up around this hour. But he knew that if he said so, Rika would be sad, and he didn’t want to hurt Rika and cause a worse scene.

“I’m fine, Rika-chan, really,” Yuuta murmured.

Rika growled unhappily. Yuuta, too, knew that he was lying. Although his wounds weren't life-threatening, he still needed to get them treated before they got infected. But Yuuta had just come back to this room—he was so, so tired. Sleeping in wouldn’t hurt anyone but him, right?

“Yuuta!” Rika snapped. It reverberated and shook the walls.

“Shh, Rika-chan,” Yuuta whispered hastily. “Please, our friends are sleeping.”

“Yuuta?” 

Both Yuuta and Rika fell silent, alarmed. That voice certainly wasn’t Rika’s, and it most definitely came from the door.

“Yuuta?” you asked again, followed by a knock. “Are you okay in there?”

“I—I’m—I’m fine!” Yuuta yelped.

“Didn’t you just come back from a mission? Why are you here instead at Ieiri-sensei’s?” Your voice was muffled by the barrier that separated you both, but it was still enough of your voice to have Yuuta’s ears reddening.

“I was! I’m resting now!” Yuuta lied straight through his teeth, embarrassed beyond belief. In truth, he didn’t want to disturb her.

“Yuuta’s a liar!” Rika chose not to stay silent at the worst time. “Liar!”

The door swung open. Yuuta didn’t have enough time to hide a steadily growing red shirt or his pretty much the same face. The air thickened as you drew closer, and Yuuta struggled to tell if it was because of Rika or his reaction to you.

“Okkotsu Yuuta,” you said, deceptively calm. Yuuta felt the hair on the back of his arms rise in alarm. “Yuuta, don’t tell me that the stain on your shirt isn’t from ketchup.”

It was his blood, so Yuuta obediently stayed silent.

You sighed and spun around to leave the room. Yuuta’s chest ached as he watched you leave. His lip trembled, and he looked over to Rika, who seemed to be giving him that same stare of disappointment.

Yuuta shrunk in on himself. “I think I made Y/N mad…”

“Stupid Yuuta,” Rika trilled. “Yuuta is an idiot!”

“I know, I know,” Yuuta cried. “I get it now.”

As he was preparing to wallow, Footsteps emerged once again. You burst into the room with a first aid kit and a stern glare that made the protests die on Yuuta’s tongue. Strangely, Rika was silent.

“Let me see,” you demanded.

Yuuta’s face flamed with embarrassment, but he obliged and tugged on his shirt. Most of the injuries were cuts on his torso that would surely hurt once he showered, but again, it wasn’t anything worth all of this. He braced himself for the stinging pain once the cotton grazed his open wound, but instead, he found himself too flustered by your proximity to even notice you were already working on his wounds.

The room was dead silent, save for Yuuta’s labored breathing. Rika had disappeared; Yuuta chalked it up to him not being in danger anymore. 

“Yuuta, if this happens again, come to my room, okay?” you said softly. 

“I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I’m asking you to.”

Yuuta deflated. “I can’t just disturb you.”

“I want you to disturb me.”

What a dangerous thing to say. Yuuta’s gaze went sharper. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Your touch was too gentle. You faced Yuuta’s gaze head-on, fearless. “And you would do the same for me. Aren’t you the one being unfair?”

Yuuta sighed. He could never win when it came to you, anyway.

“Thought so,” you mused, carefully pulling his shirt down again. “You should learn how to ask, Yuuta.”

“I’m trying,” he muttered.

You tugged on the blanket folded neatly by his side and draped it over his shoulders. The heat of your touch remained in the blanket's warmth. When you stepped back to grin proudly at your work on a flustered and helplessly endeared Yuuta, you then frowned.

“Hey, where’d Rika go? I thought she wanted to share the blanket.”

“I think she wanted you to share it with me,” Yuuta said before he could think about it.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Is that so? Well, I guess that’s not a bad idea.”

Liar, he could hear Rika’s voice. Well, he never denied it.

Yuuta laid down carefully and lifted an arm from under the blanket. You crawled inside and settled beside him, launching into a ramble about how you were worried sick when Yuuta didn’t return early. He still struggled to ask for what he wanted, so he would settle for this.

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen reader , Aegon II Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

1.03

“If you come to Dragonstone with me, I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You wanted to leave with him, but realistically, it wasn’t plausible. “And what happens once we arrive at Dragonstone? Your mother and Prince Daemon just accept me with open arms?”

Jacaerys looks down at his feet. He knew they wouldn’t trust you, nor would they likely wish for you to be in their home. “No, they wouldn’t at first,” he gulps down. “But we could make them see you played no part in the plan of usurping my mother's throne.”

“I didn’t even know my father had died until servants were sent to help me get dressed for Aegon’s coronation. How can I prove that?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Whatever road I take, I’ll end up in the same situation.” Feeling uncomfortable, you unconsciously pick at the skin surrounding your finger nail until it bleeds. “If I return home without Stark’s backing Aegon, I will need to face the wrath of being a failure and disappointment to my family. If I go with you to Dragonstone, and I bend my knee to Rhaenyra I’m leaving my sister and her children with the vipers.”

Suddenly your hands are pried apart. “Stop hurting yourself.”

The authority in Jacaerys tone takes you by surprise. Like most dragons, he had a fiery temper, but this was different. It was as if he was putting all his built-up rage aside to protect you. Meekly, you say, “habit.”

Jacaerys inspects your fingertips, frowning as he takes in the older cuts along with the newer ones. He turns your left hand over and runs his thumb over your palm. “I remember playing outside in the gardens when you fell and cut your hand. I’m surprised it didn’t scar.”

“I remember…” Despite your eyes becoming glossy, a chuckle escapes your lips. “My mother somehow blamed you for my falling, and you hid in your quarters for days.”

“I hid in my quarters because Ser Harwin saw me attempt to kiss your hand; I thought my mother and father would be mad when he told them.”

You smile; this was the first time you heard his version; all you remember clearly was your mother yelling in the privacy of her apartments that the ‘eldest bastard’ was to blame. “I’m guessing they weren’t?”

“Once I explained that I wanted to comfort you, she went to visit King Viserys and proposed our betrothal.” He lets go of your hands and moves his own up to gently cup your face.

“Things could have been so different if my grandsire hadn’t gotten into my mother's head. Do you think we would have been happy?”

“We still could be.”

You feel as if the air has been sucked from your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “Wh-what do you mean?” Jacaerys couldn’t possibly be implying what you thought he did. “What do you mean we still could be?”

“Marry me, here in Winterfell.”

“You have more courage than any knight I know for even suggesting such a thing.”

A smile curls on his lips. “It’s not a jest. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember; if you say no, I will respect that. But if you agree, for the rest of my life, I will spend every day loving you and keeping you safe. Nobody will ever be able to hurt you again.”

His eyes follow your movement as you bring his fingers to your mouth and plant a gentle kiss on them. “My sweet prince, we cannot. Aegon told me, If I betray him, then it’s your life he will take.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

—

Since Northern wedding vows were shared in front of a weirwood tree in the presence of the old god that they believed in, you wanted to be careful not to offend them with your Old Valyrian custom, so Jacaerys purposed you did the ceremony yourselves, outside, surrounded by nothing but the moonlight and your dragons flying above.

You cut each other's lips with a blade made of dragonglass. Jacaerys cuts his hand and rubs a mark on each of your foreheads to signify the continuation of your bloodline. You pledge to each other, “one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

“I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao.”

“My sweet Jacaerys, I feel the same way.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and saying everything you wish becomes difficult. Jace leans down, pressing his cold lips against your own. An electric spark you’ve never felt passes through you; it was strong enough to make the snow nipping at your skin momentarily disappear. You wanted this; you wanted him. Jacaerys finally being yours felt surreal—a dream you didn’t want to wake up from.

He pulls back slightly and mumbles against your lips, “We should go back inside. I don’t want my bride to catch a cold.”

—

Nervously, you walk towards the bed covered in layers of fur and find yourself almost digging at your nails again, but when you feel a gentle kiss pressed to the back of your neck, the tension you're holding eases slightly, but the butterflies in your stomach aren’t completely gone.

“We don’t need to do anything,” Jacaerys says quietly. “We are married now; there is no rush.”

You did want to be intimate with Jace, but now that you were standing here, you felt unworthy of him. Bruises from Aegon holding you tightly still lingers on your skin, and it made you feel disgusting.

“I do, but... I’m afraid of what comes next,” you admit. “The repercussion of—”

He cuts you off with a kiss and says, “Whatever happens next, I’ll protect you.”

For once you hold your tongue, not wanting to loudly question how impossible that would be, You sigh, “I wish I could turn all the thoughts in my brain off, even for a short time, so I could revel in my husband's warmth.”

“I could help with that.”

Curious, you lock eyes with him. “What do you mean?”

“I could make you feel good without having sex, but only if you wish it.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan was, but you trusted Jace enough to follow through with his words. Taking your hand, he guides you to lay back on the bed. He kisses down your neck. “Promise me, you’ll tell me if you want me to stop.”

“I promise.”

Jacaerys kisses down your clothed body until he reaches your thighs. He pushes your skirts up to your waist, then slowly pulls your small cloth down. You await the stinging stretch of Jace pushing his cock into you at any second, but instead you feel his hot breath on your core. “Wh—what are you doing?”

“I’m going to taste the sweetest thing the gods ever made.”

“Do you mean—oh fuck!”

Jace spreads your folds open with his fingers, then dips his tongue inside of you.

“Gods, that feels good!”

One of your trusted ladies in waiting once told you that a gold cloak had ‘eaten her cunny’ and shared how good it felt. Ever since you had been curious about the act, this was far better than anything you could have imagined. Jace hooks his arms around your thighs, holding you in place while turning his attention to your clit and flicking over it with his tongue.

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps, and you reach the first climax a man has ever given you.

Jace wipes his glistening lips and chin with his sleeve before moving up the bed and laying beside you. He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then gently caresses the soft flesh of your thigh. “We don’t need to go any further.“

“I want you, Jace; I want this.”

Hearing those words fall from your lips, he quickly lowers his breeches until his hard cock springs free. Jace rolls over, lines himself up with you, and slowly begins to push inside you. His thrusts are gentle as his touch is soft, making you feel cared for, almost safe. Jace peppers your neck in kisses while bringing his thumb to your clit and starts to rub it, taking great pleasure in how tightly you squeeze him. “Gods,” he moans. “You’re so perfect, my love; I think you were made for me.”

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, but you fight to hold them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. Jace notices and immediately stops his movements. “Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

“No, keep going, please, please!”

Slowly he starts to thrust into you again; he seems unsure until you wrap your legs around his waist, which encourages him to go faster again. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak for the second time, and Jacaerys isn’t far behind.

—

Your fingers glide over Jacaerys bare back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. The both of you were sticky with sweat, but you’d stopped caring hours ago.

While being so caught up in making love, Jacaerys hadn’t noticed the bruises on your body until he collapsed, panting and gasping beside you. If it wasn’t for exhaustion overtaking him, he would still be expressing his fury.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his voice laced with sleep.

“How the sun is rising.”

Looking out the window, you can see the orange and pink hues of the sky, and the snowfall is becoming heavier. You take a deep breath, feeling the cool morning air fill your lungs.

Whatever happens next, you must remember that you’re the blood of the dragon, and you must be strong.

I’ve always loved you — I’ve va moriot jorrāelatan ao

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

This is Her Trying

sum: she sold out every value she holds dear, even a person. That happens to be you. So, one night after Voit’s little game, she speeds to your apartment in hopes you’ll still want her.

(is there a lot of music references? Yes.)

WARNING: BIG ANGSTY, smoking, some fluff?

Emily saw this coming, with the way everything was happening. The BAU hadn’t taken up a case they couldn’t solve, it just seems that now they’ve met their match. Emily didn’t want it to be true, no, she just couldn’t accept that. She was too prideful to give up.

That also meant doing everything in her power to solve this case, even if it meant pushing the boundaries of the law. She hated that she even considered doing it, so why do it at all? That was a question she asked herself often. Sometimes she sat in her chair wondering if Hotch would be disappointed in her. Or if he would tell her that she ‘needn’t worry’ even though she should.

In the midst of all this ‘Gold Star’ business happening, she was also pushing you away. Not noticing the hurt facial expression you made at her clearly not wanting your presence. She pushed you away so much that she had forgotten how much peace you’d bring her. Even Rossi had warned her to go home but she never did listen, she did what she thought was best. But sometimes she couldn’t think for herself.

—

“Shouldn’t you head home to see the Mrs?” Rossi asked, driving them back after Emily had gotten arrested. The truth was, she wanted to go home, she was just too scared that you too would be disappointed in her, and she’d rather not have the person she loved the most think ill of her. “She knows I’m out, it’s fine..” The silver-haired woman grumbled, picking at her thumb nail again. Someday she’d get over the whole thumb thing but now was not the time. All that she was focused on was Brian Garrity being on the top of her list to be killed off if she ever did spiral into madness; which she was already on the brink of.

Dave looked at her with this face, it was his ‘I know you better than you think, please don’t lie to me right now’ face. Emily huffed, groaning as she flopped her head into her hands. “It’s been almost a week and a half, Emily. A hello or hug would suffice” He tutted, even after all these years he still had to teach her fatherly advice.

“She’ll survive, Dave, she’s not going anywhere” Emily seethed, her emotions slightly breaking loose, the Italian took note of her behavior. As he pulled back into the parking lot, he stopped the engine, turning to look at her with a soft expression.

“If I’ve learned anything from my marriages is, never make them wait for you. Because the hardest feeling is choosing whether to wait or give up” He says, exiting the car first to let Emily think.

—

The Unit Chief sat on the rooftop again, the cigarette she was smoking, balanced between her fingers. She only smoked when she was really stressed, that seemed to be almost every day now. You had told her to stop smoking but, old habits die hard.

Ever since that call she had about being on restricted duty she felt like she was completely under the water, she couldn’t breathe. The feeling on being dragged down over and over again was starting to get to her. This definitely wasn’t her first rodeo but it was starting to feel like her last. She kept telling herself to keep pushing and they’d solve this but maybe, for once, they’ve gotten a case they won’t figure out.

The BAU was crumbling around them, the public was already trampling on the name. But if they didn’t figure this out, what was the point of anything? What was the point of all this work if she couldn’t even save herself?

How could she protect her team when her choices were the ones hurting them? She’d been dying inside since Bailey’s death. She couldn’t give up now, she had to figure this out so he didn’t die in vain. But she wanted to give up, it was so much easier to lay down and die.

This isn’t how she imagined she’d end up. A broken marriage, at least she thought so, a broken team, a broken case, everything was tumbling down and she didn’t have the energy to build them back up anymore. She always wondered how some people could die with so much happiness accepting that they didn’t do everything they wanted to. That was one of the qualities that made you fall for her.

She didn’t stop till she got what she wanted. That’s how you agreed to go on one date with her. She was insistent that she was the one for you. At first you didn’t want to, not wanting to be with someone so ambitious since it could end badly, later she showed you that you were the only one she wanted.

Letting out a shaking breath, Emily looked below, the who-ing of the owls seemed to be her only company that night. The stars were shining above her, she was jealous of them. How could they live so peacefully without worry. They were taunting her with their beauty.

Almost like the first time you and her met. She smiled at the memory, her time of youth escaped her but she never seemed to forget it.

~~

You were one of Garcia‘s friends, she met you during one of her baking lessons, and got to know you during one of her cooking lessons. You were skilled in both, your nimble fingers kneading the dough, your hands holding the sharp knife as you made precise cuts on the vegetables.

Emily could’ve never been prepared for the day you’d given Penelope a visit at work. She practically choked on her coffee the moment you walked in. You were stunning, your eyes soft like the morning rain, your face free from blemishes and impurities, even your hands looked extremely agile. Your presence alone cast an ethereal radiance around the room. “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

Your brow arched, signaling her to introduce herself, Emily quickly stumbled to her feet with a goofy smile. She was enchanted by your shining grin. Internally, she was panicking so bad she couldn’t even think about what comes out of her mouth next, she was too busy staring at your tits.

“Prentits, Emily” she said a little too confidently, she slapped a hand over her mouth as Morgan barrel rolled on the floor in laughter. Rossi, JJ, and Penelope were snickering in the background. Hotch and Reid stood with shocked expressions, for once, Aaron had cracked a smile.

”I’m sorry! I meant Emily Prentiss, it’s nice to meet you as well” her voice got more silent with each word, the red hue over taking her face. You laughed, “it’s okay, Emily,” you leaned into her ear, “but next time just ask to look at them.”

~~

Emily snorted to herself, still looking into the dark nothingness below her. A soft chuckle escaped her, even the darkness seemed more peaceful than whatever she had going on. In those few minutes that she had stared into the oblivion, she realized, it wasn’t too late to fix things. At least with you anyway, she just hoped that you’d still want her after everything she had put you through.

The guilt of leaving you alone for so long clawed at her. As she now hurried down the halls, she thought of you. That smile that could make her melt, the laugh that could infect anybody, and those arms that held her close when no one understood her.

Even in the car, the first thing that played was your favorite song. She slammed her fist against the console, the pain was agonizing but that was the least of her problems. Her fingers gripped around the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white and cramped. As she speeded home, she realized that she dearly missed your lips. Your soft, delicate, and loving lips. Even the first time the both of you had said you loved each other, she knew that you were gonna kiss her in a way that was gonna screw her up forever.

At the door of your shared house, she felt a sinking feeling in her chest, her hands turned clammy. It was like she was sent back to when she was ask you out on a date again. Except this time she was asking for your forgiveness.

She brought out her house keys, unlocked the door, and stepped in. The inside was still dimly lit so she knew you were awake, probably staying up late again. “Baby? I’m home!” Emily called out, shutting the door behind her, making sure to lock it before venturing deeper into the home. She heard shuffling from upstairs, it stopped for a moment before the sound of your footsteps made their way down. She was nervous, the smell of smoke on her clothes. It stood out from the scent of the rest of the house.

It smelt of you and your soft smelling vanilla perfume. You smiled seeing her, though the emotions in you remained conflicted. “Em, you’re home, I thought you were gonna be working late again” You chuckled lightly, nothing was funny. She messed up and you knew it, she knew it. So, why couldn’t you just go ahead and scream your feelings out. That’s what you wanted to do days ago, but not now that you see her face…you don’t feel so angry anymore.

“No, I needed to come home. I needed to see you, I’m-” Emily abruptly stopped her sentence to swallow the sound of her breaking voice, she never minded being emotional in front of you. Now, she couldn’t bear to cry in front of you. She felt she didn’t deserve to, you’re the victim here, after all. It was selfish to take that away from you. She was selfish. That’s all she had been for weeks now.

“I’m going insane, y/n. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I’m not alright.” She admitted it, she was scared and confused. She felt like some little kid in the corner after doing something bad and not knowing it was. She didn’t know how to cope with any of this. It was too big to do alone. She couldn’t ask you to help her, not when she’s already taken so much from you.

As Emily’s eyes began to sting, the tears pooling. Yet, she didn’t let them fall. She couldn’t, it wasn’t right. “You smell like smoke again, what happened this time?” You asked, brushing past her and walking into the kitchen. You fixed Emily a glass of cold water, “I messed up some case, I’m on restricted duty. The BAU is Dave’s now. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” She said through a shaky sigh, leaning on the kitchen island, the marble cold to the touch. You were slightly shocked that she would actually tell you, most of the time she wouldn’t tell you anything. You understood that even knowing a little bit could endanger you both so you never pressed. “Have you eaten?”

Emily crossed her arms, sniffling and looking at her with a blank expression. You knew that look, she was trying to profile you. “Emily, if you’re trying to profile me, it’s not gonna work.” You said sternly, getting the ingredients out for beef and broccoli, one of her favorites.

“Okay, I’m sorry…” she replied, biting her lip. “No, I haven’t” she added after a moment of silence. You smiled to yourself, “Good, I haven’t had dinner yet”

The silence was oddly comfortable, it gave Emily a sense of false comfort. She watched you cook as she idly played with her fingers. You could’ve called it a night ages ago and gone to bed not talking to her at all. Instead, you chose to stay and make food. You always stayed silent when you were mad, you came from a home with screaming being the norm. You hated yelling at someone out of anger, you hated it with your heart and soul. Even now if someone yells at you in anger, the tears will pool and won’t stop streaming down your face. Your breathing turns shallow and the tightness in your chest the least of your concerns.

As you finished cooking the food, the steam drifted into the air, eventually filling up the whole kitchen. Both of you quickly ate the food, silently glancing at each ofher when the other ‘wasn’t’ looking. Emily didn’t know what to say, and you didn’t want to say anything.

The older woman went upstairs to change, and hopefully get a shower. It had been a few days since she’s had a good shower. One where she felt relaxed and fresh. You washed the dishes, humming to yourself as you thought about the situiation you were in. You wanted so badly to be angry with her but, there was something that kept you from feeling anything about what was happening. Your face would contort into an expression of anger but you didn’t feel it.

You completed the rest of the cleaning and headed upstairs, maybe you’d be able to get a good sleep tonight. You always slept best with Emily in bed with you, she just gave you a sense of comfort that no one else could give you.

Already in some pjs, you brushed your teeth and washed your face. With a heavy sigh, you pulled your body up to sit on the counter. You had grabbed your phone, scrolling on social media as you flossed with a floss pick. You heard the shower stop but you didn’t look up, too interested in a News article you read. It was an article about ‘Gold Star’. A case Emily was on, he was clearly dangerous and had already killed the spouse of one of his latest victims who was also a cop. That must’ve been why she’s been down at the office, at least, that’s what you heard from Pen.

“Damn it…” Emily muttered, pulling a silk robe over her thin pjs. Her hair was soaking wet, and her face free of makeup, she was looking for something. “Have you seen my towel?” She asked, looking at the rack then back inside the shower. You looked down and saw you were sitting on it, lifting a thigh, you grabbed it and handed it to her.

She smiled at you, drying her silver locks with the towel. Walking over to the sink, she began doing her skincare routine. You stared at her, a blank expression on your face, she looked so focused.

You felt the urge to reach out and touch her face when she finished, she looked like a supermodel in this light. I’m any light actually, she was a timeless beauty you couldn’t get enough of. That was when you felt it, the subtle shake of your hands, the sting of your eyes, the flips of your stomach, the drowning feeling, and the way you bit the inside of your cheek.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror before looking over at you with concern, your eyes filled with hurt. She hummed softly, placing a hand on yours, squeezing it as a way to ground you. “I love you, Emily Prentiss…so much that you piss me off,” You said with a hushed tone, as if you’d be scolded for speaking normally.

“I love you more, my precious girl” Emily kissed each of your knuckles, kissing up your arm as she moved to slip herself in between your legs. She eventually got up to kiss your lips, it was quick, a big dose of comfort, for Emily at least.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true…” You insisted, placing your hands on her shoulders, the robe damp from her wet hair. “You left me, for almost a whole week and a half with minimal to no contact, you didn’t even check in with me so I knew you were alive and breathing.”

Emily looked down in shame, she wished to take it all back. “I had to hold on to the hope that you were okay, and I had to get updates from the team, who you never seem to interact with anyway.” You sniffled, toying with her hair. “I know about this whole ‘Gold Star’ thing. The information went public, most of it anyway. So, please tell me what’s bothering you. Please…” You admitted, holding her face so she would look at you.

“Baby, Gold Star…he’s a dangerous man, after what happened with Don Bertoli” she paused, wiping her tears away, refusing to let them fall. She’s been doing that often now, you noticed since she was always comfortable crying around you. “I couldn’t handle you living in fear, I couldn’t handle us living in fear. A part of it was because I was so focused on this case, I hardly thought about anything else other than the case, and you. I know that sounds weird but, every decision I made was made because I thought I could protect you.” She kissed your palm, looking at you with the same adoration and love she had been for years, “If Don, this big muscular man, can’t stop him from killing his wife. How can I stop him?” She sobbed, hugging you close.

“Ever since this case even started, I changed so much. I hate it. I let a serial killer out of his cage to work among profilers like he meant something. I kept a secret from JJ that I shouldn’t have, I ruled over my team like a tyrant instead of working with them. I’m…turning into my mother, just like I thought I would. But the only question I have is…why haven’t you left me yet?” Emily sniffled, tears stains on your sleep attire. You pulled away from the hug and held her head, wiping away the tears with your thumbs.

She looked so fragile, like could crack of you touched her. You rarely saw her break, Emily was always the strong one even in the relationship. She took pride in opening jars, carrying bags, doing any sort of lifting. She also compartmentalized like her life depended on it because it kind of did.

”You are not going to be like your mother, you are my wonderful, amazing, ambitious, smart, hilarious, stunning, annoying wife. You’re my everything in one and I love you for it. I haven’t left you because I made a very important promise to be yours forever. I intend to keep that promise, no matter what. Also, last time I checked, you have the most awesome team. So, if you fess up and take responsibility, they’ll accept you. Remember that you have to earn that trust back but, I know you care.” Emily let out a choked sob, she loved you more than anything. What did she do to deserve you?

“When you were gone that long, I didn’t mind that much. Until you stopped texting me back, I didn’t hear from you for days. I panicked, thinking you were mad and I spiraled, every possible out come in my head played out beside for this” You said, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear.

“What I mean is, I’m not going to tell you that this was okay, what I am gonna tell you is that I love you despite what happened.” You pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, she was hurting, you could tell from her face and mannerisms. You felt like you had spent a whole lifetime memorizing everything about her. Sometimes, it scared you. You knew things about her that even her team didn’t know, for you knew they’d never know.

With that, Emily burst into tears, hugging you tightly, pulling you as close to her as she could.

You’ve missed her dearly, nothing in existence or nonexistent could keep you from loving her. You feel every emotion at once yet none could rival the pure love you felt for the woman. She’s gone through hell & earth to have you. Now, you were ready to do the same for her.

She’s saved you from a maniac serial killer once, the least you could do was be here when you needed her. You knew she’d return the favor, you preferred to have her be alright before returning anything. After all, you taught middle schoolers for a living, you had your moments but thankfully there was never anything much.

“I’m sorry, so, so sorry” She sobbed, her head buried in between the crevice between your neck and shoulder. Her body slotted so perfectly with yours that you were convinced she was made for you. “I forgive you, always”

You felt her arms tighten around you, she sniffled looking up into your eyes. Pressing a kiss to your lips, she played with your hair, twirling it between her fingers.

She didn’t know what was waiting for her in the future, she was unsure of a lot of things. One thing was certain, that you were hers, and she was yours. She’d find a way to cross realities if it meant being with you.

As the night went on, both felt as though they could stay their forever. Intertwined. Sewn together. Forevermore.

—————

UHM. THIS WAS IN MY DRAFTS FOR A WHILE.

This is a nice appetizer for all the fics I’m about to serve to you guysssss. I hope you enjoyed restricted duty Emily :)

[ladykailitha]

Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate

Welcome to the little story I was working on during my move! Just a fun little thing to keep my writing streak going without have to dive into my heavy hitters.

The original idea is here.

I originally planned to go farther than the original idea like season 2-4 but as I was just needing something lighthearted it became a short little story three chapters long that might get turned into a series of What if's.

Summary: After the events surrounding Will Byers and his return to life, Steve has decided he can't control anything in his life but school, so he seeks to put a stop to the bullying. Cue Eddie getting heart-eyes over popular King Steve protecting his little sheepies. So he decides Steve needs a knew title. Sir Steve, Knight Protectorate will work just fine.

~

Steve was still reeling from actual fucking monsters and shit. And he actually had to go to school the following Monday like none of it had happened.

Fuck, they didn’t even offer therapy, just NDAs and money to keep their mouths shut. He had no doubt that the Byers family and Nancy had the worst of it, so he wasn’t even mad that she broke up with him.

He got it more than most people that she needed to time to grieve the lost of her best friend, be with family and hold them close for awhile.

It sucked.

Steve wasn’t going to pretend that it didn’t, because it absolutely did. But he understood. He told Nancy that if she ever needed a friend to give him a call.

His temper was short and his capacity for bullshit was low, that was the only reason he could come up with what happened that Monday morning.

He walked into the hall that held his locker to his books for the day when he saw Tommy H. having a go at some freshman. Like this kid still looked like he was in elementary, he looked that little.

“Knock it off, Hagan,” Steve huffed. “There is no reason to be harassing this kid.”

Tommy turned around and got in his face. “What’s it to you, Harrington? I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Dude,” Steve said, stepping forward instead of back like Tommy thought he would, “why are you so angry all the time? Chill out.”

Tommy’s head reared back as though he’d been struck in the face. He pushed Steve away. “Again, what’s it to you? You want to be friends again now that Miss Priss is finished with your scaly ass? Because where was my loyalty? We’ve been friends for years and you threw it all away for some piece of ass!”

Steve didn’t even stumble, he just crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know what you did was over the line and you did it anyway. Because that’s the problem, Hagan, isn’t it? You don’t know where the fucking line is, do you?”

Tommy frowned and tried to push him again, but Steve just let his body slide with the motion and it didn’t even hurt. Tommy stared at him for a moment before stalking off down the hallway to his own locker. Steve just shook his head and went over to the kid who Tommy had been bullying.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked gently, helping him pick up his books. “If he does that again, you come running for me. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington, just ask around, someone will know how to find me, yeah?”

The kid nodded and took the books back from Steve before he took off in a tear. Steve sighed and he put his hands on his hips like a disappointed mom.

He looked around the hall to see everyone staring at him in shock. And that was when he realized what he had done.

Last week, he might have called Tommy off, but not really done anything about it. But he had not only called Tommy off, he put him in his place, and then helped the kid.

Yeah that was quite the turn around. So he just did like he would have done at basketball game.

He clapped his hands together once, nice and loud to make sure everyone was paying attention to him even more now.

“Right,” he said loudly. “Nothing more to see here. Move along now.”

They stared at him in even further shock now.

“Come on,” Steve said impatiently. “Move along. Shoo!” He waved his hands in front of him, trying to get them leave, but it was like herding cats.

Someone slammed their locker and that broke them out of their trance allowing them to move about their day like that didn’t just happen.

Steve looked around and saw Eddie Munson leaning against his locker, with his arms crossed. A locker, Steve was pretty sure was open when he walked in that morning.

Huh.

That was certainly interesting.

~

Eddie had been having a rough morning. He spilled milk on his only clean pair of jeans. He was going to do laundry after school. He was! He just didn’t do it over the weekend because he had gotten a new book. A book that was currently being painstakingly dried out by Uncle Wayne with an old hair dryer, because Eddie dropped it in the sink. Then he almost forgot his homework and had to run back for it. He had managed to get to school on time, but Tommy H. had decided to chose violence that morning against a nerdy little freshman literally next to his locker.

He promised Uncle Wayne that if Tommy started something that he wouldn’t fucking finish it. He needed to graduate from high school and as it much as it sucked ass, he had to look the other way.

So imagine his surprise when Steve got in Tommy’s face and almost threw hands with the guy, telling him to back off. What was even more surprising was how quickly Tommy stood down.

But that wasn’t the last of Steve Harrington’s surprises, oh no...

He helped the kid gather up his stuff and offered himself as a white knight if Tommy did it again. But by then Harrington had drawn quite the crowd, but instead of soaking the attention like the full tilt diva the asshole jock most certainly was, he had tried to disperse the crowd. Like the attention had made him uncomfortable.

So he thought he’d throw the king a bone and slammed his locker shut. The loud noise startled the populous out of their stupor and sent them packing. He was more than a little shocked to see that maybe Steve had figured out who had rescued him.

And wasn’t that a kick in the head.

By the time he got to lunch news had spread that that morning’s incident was only the start of the king’s campaign to clean up the hallowed halls of Hawkins High. According to ye ole rumor mill, Steve had broken up a fight, called out two accounts of bullying, and stopped a class from rioting when the teacher had a medical emergency.

What was even more surp– he needed to find another word. Shocking. Astounding. Astonishing. Mind-boggling.

Anyway Steve sat down next to Carol and Tommy. Like even the great ex Nancy Wheeler dropped her fork, flabbergasted.

Tommy and Carol exchanged a glance.

“What are you doing here, Harrington?” Tommy growled. “Why don’t you sit next to your girlfriend? Oh that’s right she dumped your ass.”

Steve cocked his head to the side. “You made a valid point, we have been friends for years and I’ve decided I’m tired of running away from my problems.”

“And what,” Carol sneered, “we’re one of your problems now? Fuck off, Steve.”

Steve threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on his knuckles. “You didn’t use to be this way, you know. You used to be the sweetest girl and I’m trying to figure out if it was Tommy that made you this way or if you turning into a bitch is what made Tommy become such an ass?”

Tommy and Carol’s heads rocked back in unison. Tommy moved to stand up to hit him, but Carol pulled him back down.

“If we bother you so much why don’t you leave and stay gone?” she asked, low and menacingly. “We don’t need you, you need us. We made you king.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed. “No, you really didn’t. You need someone to keep you from your worst selves. And that’s what I’m going to do. You could be good.” He slid a piece of paper over to Tommy. “This is Miss Chen, the school counselor’s office hours. You will make an appointment with her by the end of the day.”

Tommy threw it on the table. “Fuck off, Harrington. You can’t make me.”

Steve leaned forward on his elbows. “Actually you’ll find that I can. After all they’re still trying to find the culprit who put the smoke bomb in the garbage in the principal’s office last year.” He slapped the table for emphasis. “It would be a real shame if they learned it was you.”

Tommy blanched and gulped heavily. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Steve confirmed. “I know too much about you to have you go against me.”

Carol folded her arms and huffed. “Like we don’t have information on you, too.”

“Do you though?” he asked, sitting back in the chair and lazily stuff his hands in pockets. “I was never directly involved in any of it. Including the buying of weed for all those parties.”

This time Carol’s color drained. “Shit.”

“So this how it’s going to go,” Steve murmured. “You two have become my pet projects. I’m going to see if you can be reformed. Become better people. And to do that, we’re going to have to be friends again.”

Carol frowned as she twirled her hair around a finger. “Why are you doing this, Steve? I mean really. When you think people aren’t watching you, you get this haunted expression. It’s a little freaky, honestly.”

Steve sighed. “I have learned the hard way that running every time things get tough will only lead to worse consequences and I hate to see you come to harm because you realized the same thing too late.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I do care about you guys, of course I do. But this behavior is frightening. What if you hurt someone so bad that they took their life or they died because of your direct actions? Do you really think you could live with yourselves?”

“Tha–that can’t really happen, can it?” Carol asked, holding up her hand to stall Tommy from scoffing.

Steve shrugged nonchalantly. “That something you really want to test?” He leaned forward again on his elbows. “Having someone’s blood on your hands?”

They were both thinking it but Tommy beat Carol to it. “Is this what this about? Barb Holland? You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

Steve turned his head away.

Carol slapped her hands on the table on either side of her tray. “If that’s what Miss Priss said, blackmail be damned, Steve, I’m going throw hands, do you understand me?”

Steve’s head snapped her direction. “What?”

“Look,” Tommy said, “what happened to her was a shame, but you did everything you could to make sure she was okay before we went in to dry off.”

“Like, she wasn’t even supposed to be there that night,” Carol said, nodding. “That’s all on Nancy. Don’t carry her shit too, just because you loved her. You tried to include Barb and she was rude.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath and nodded, choking down tears. “Thanks, guys.”

“I suppose,” Tommy said with a put on sigh, “we could be nicer. I guess.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed as Carol shook her head. He stuck out his hand. “Friends?”

Tommy shook it first and then Carol.

“Friends,” they agreed.

~

Eddie wasn’t able to hear what Steve and Tommy and Carol were talking about, but whatever it was it had ripples that quivered through the halls of the school.

Word had it that Tommy was seeing the school counselor and Carol had stopped making snide comments in passing.

Like, you could tell Carol was fighting back every nasty word that came to her head, as Steve would nudge her side and she would whisper to him what she was thinking instead. You could tell she was still being nasty but at least it wasn’t aimed at the target anymore.

But there were starting to be other changes too.

The basketball team was the worst of the jocks when it came to harassing the masses, but when Steve caught one of the members bullying someone, the next day, the guy was too tired to start shit.

So Eddie decided it was time for a little research and that meant actually going to PE. Fuck, he hated high school.

He dragged his ass to PE and the coach merely raised an eyebrow, but wisely said nothing. He knew why Eddie was there. Same reason as all the other kids that never came started showing up.

Steve Harrington.

The coach blew his whistle to call a foul and the kid who had been fouled immediately got up and in the other guy’s face.

Faster than lightning, Steve was between before the coach could even take a step toward the mounting trouble.

“Come on, Kenny,” Steve was saying soothingly. “It was fair play, you were just in the right place at the wrong time. Walk it off, then take your shot. You’ve got this.”

Kenny glared at the other player, but did as Steve suggested. Steve turned to the other player and patted him on the chest, murmuring something Eddie couldn’t hear, but the other guy just nodded and took his place on the line.

Eddie laughed out loud when Kenny biffed both shots and the other team got the ball. He didn’t know enough about basketball, but he could still appreciate a good strategy when he saw it.

As the game wore on, Eddie was starting to see the pattern emerge. If it was malicious, Steve would be up in the guy’s face telling him to knock it off and to play clean. If it was a good play and the fouled player was pissed, Steve would calm him down and praise the other team.

It was almost freaky how well Steve seemed to know the difference. And Eddie loved freaky.

~

Part 2 Part 3

Tag List: CLOSED

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[perlelune]

no body, no crime | Coriolanus Snow | xi.

Your childhood friend returns from his exile in district 12, but he's not the sweet, quiet boy you once knew anymore.

Warnings: NON-CON, Plinth!Reader, Gaslighting, Drugging, Murder, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Virginity, Somnophilia

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Hugging your frame, you retreat.

“I think you should leave Coriolanus.”

Your parents frown. He shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own, princess.”

As he reaches for you, you shy away from him. 

“I’d rather be alone forever than be anywhere near you.”

His sky gaze clouds over with anger, the hand falling at his side slowly clenching into a fist.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do, actually.”

Coriolanus gasps. A look of hurt spreads across his features as he gapes at you like you stabbed him in the chest. This is an expression you’ve never seen him wear. You grow uneasy. He turns to your parents and sighs.

“I told you she’d react this way,” he says, sounding dejected. “Between the hormones and…everything else I told you about. I knew she’d be in denial.”

Strabo squeezes his shoulder.

“It’s alright, son. It’s not your fault,” you father says, giving a forlorn smile.

Your mother’s eyes shimmer with concern as she looks at you.

“Sweetie, everyone cares about you here. If we just sat down and-”

A wave of irate heat surges through you. It begins in the pit of your stomach, swelling as you watch Coriolanus’ interactions with your parents. The way they comfort him, hug him. Like he’s more their child than you are. The prodigal son they always wanted.

After all, you are the throwaway child, you’re viciously reminded. The District 2 orphan they graciously took in who never quite met their expectations. Tragically lacking at every turn. A disappointment.

Your palms tingle as your blood starts to boil.

You rush down the stairs.

“No! Ma, Dad…” You seize your mother’s hand. “He lied to me, did things to me. He kept me in his house. He-”

Coriolanus’ brows thread, his eyes misting over with unshed tears.

“If you need to make me the villain in your story to make this okay, princess. Go ahead.” A mirthless chuckle floats from his lips. Once more, he looks at you like you’re the one causing him great hurt, not the opposite. His shoulders slump. “I’ll be the villain if that’s what you need.” He rubs his eyes, sadness twisting his features as he talks to your parents. “I’m sorry. I never realized it’d be this…difficult for her to accept what happened between us.”

“Nothing happened between us!” you shout, tears of frustration pressing behind your eyes.

He scoffs, blue gaze flicking over your belly. “Nothing?”

Your mother cups your face, her expression puzzled. “So Coriolanus isn’t…the father? You two never-” She glances at him then you. “Is William the father of your child then, sweetie?” She caresses your cheek. “We’re not judging you. We just want answers.”

You chew on your lip. Your attention darts from him to your mother, your insides clutching. A lie sizzles your tongue, nearly spilling in desperation, but you quell it. What would be the point? Your mother’s always known you wanted to wait. That was the plan, initially. And William isn’t the one you spent every day with for the last few weeks. Your parents are also aware of that fact.

There’s no doubt who the father is. They know it. You know it. And from the smug way he’s standing by your parents’ side, he also knows it.

“No, it…it can’t be William. It’s Coriolanus,” you admit begrudgingly. The words alone ache as they skip off your tongue. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “But he lied to me, Ma. So much.”

She tilts her head.

“Lied about what?”

Your eyes flood with tears.

“The night of the party, Sejanus-”

Your father’s thunderous voice interrupts your tearful confession.

“Enough!” he curtly rumbles. “You dare bring your brother into this? When Coriolanus was the only real friend he made all these years?”

A shocked exhale leaves your throat. You shake your head, hastily wiping your tears.

“Dad, you don’t understand-”

 “You’re not a child anymore!” he bellows.

His razor-sharp tone has you leap back in fright.

Your voice comes out small.

“Dad?”

He heaves out a deep sigh, pulling out his breast pocket square to dab the fat beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead.

“However this happened, it did.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever mistakes were made, a child is involved now. A small, innocent child. My grandchild. I will not hear anymore about this senseless teenage drama.” You deflate, your eyes growing wide. The finality in your father’s words pulverizes the last shred of hope within you. “And I will not let my own daughter drag our house into further ruin after losing my only son.” Your father winces, his hand clawing his chest. His knees buckle and he starts sinking onto the floor. Your mother and Coriolanus rush to his side. Your jaw drops. All the color drains from his face. Your mother starts weeping. You go to your father, helping him sit in the living room with your mother and Coriolanus as he takes large gulps of air. It lasts a while, long, horrifying minutes, his wheezing breaths causing your own pulse to race. You begin to wonder if you'll lose a father on top of a brother.

“Breathe, Dad, please…” you whimper, holding his hand.

After some time, it thankfully stops. Your father’s exhales slow down and he regains some color. Relief fills you. You genuinely thought you were about to see your father die right before you.

“Take it easy, Mr. Plinth.”

“Honey, your heart…”

Strabo waves off his wife and Coriolanus as they fuss over him.

“I’m fine,” he assures, his frown returning. His disapproving stare cuts into you. You shrink. “You’re an adult now and you need to start acting like it.”

Your mouth opens then clamps shut. You don’t want to upset him again, not when the argument from before sent him in such a state.

You lower your head. “Y-Yes, dad.”

“Sit down,” he instructs.

“O-Okay.”

You take a dour seat on the opposite couch. 

“Coriolanus, you sit down too,” he adds.

Your stomach sinks. The blond’s eyes find yours across the room. Your father is still recovering, hand on his chest, and your mother is too busy caring for your father. None of them see what you do. The winning glint dancing in his blue orbs and the almost imperceptible smirk as he sits next to you on the couch.

“Of course, Mr. Plinth.”

Once your father is better, he and Coriolanus start discussing the logistics of your new…situation. The entire conversation is a vivid nightmare, making you question your own sanity. You are there, but might as well not be, with the matter-of-fact way your future is being discussed as if everything is already set in stone. 

Your heart skips a beat when Coriolanus promises your parents to marry you before the fall. He says he wants to do it quickly to avoid any gossip, before you start showing, but also provide enough time to make it grand and memorable. It’s a stark contrast to what you and William had in mind. A small, intimate gathering of only your parents and a few of William’s closest friends. You both decided you only really needed the other in the end.

Coriolanus however sounds like he wants the entire Capitol to watch him slip a ring on your finger. 

Your insides curl in horror.

The moment living arrangements are brought up, your heart races.

“I can’t move in with the Snows,” you interject, shocked by what your father just suggested. Though, it shouldn’t surprise you. Your father’s a traditionalist. Of course, he’d agree with Coriolanus that you should move out of their home and swiftly into his.

“You will have no choice. We’re selling the house.” 

You bolt to your feet, your brows grazing your hairline.

“What?”

“The paperwork is already signed.” Your father crosses his arms. “We are moving on the floor below theirs. I had the entire place renovated. It’s quite spectacular, you’ll see.”

A humorless laugh escapes from your throat.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’ll be good, sweetheart. A fresh start,” your mother assures, rising to clutch your hands in hers. Her hopeful smile sends a wave of queasiness through you.

Your father’s gaze narrows.

“Coriolanus has graciously agreed to salvage your virtue by taking your hand in marriage…or whatever’s left of it, I suppose. You should be grateful he’s allowing you to save face. Many men would shirk the responsibility. You are lucky it was him.”

Your mind races, a million thoughts crowding it at once. 

“When is this move supposed to occur?”

“The entire house will be empty by the end of the week.”

Your breath catches. You give a slow, acrid nod.

“So it’s all been decided. I don’t get a say.” You snicker, backing away from your mom, backing away from all of them. This is a madhouse. Your brother died and they all lost their minds.

…Except for him.

He looks far too content with himself not to understand what he’s done to you, what he’s still doing to you. How could you be stupid enough to trust Coriolanus Snow?

You still remember the way he was at the Academy. Always observing, gauging, weighing in every situation to figure out what to do or say to get himself ahead. Always looking out for himself. You saw things in him that were never there. And now you’re paying the consequences.

“I don’t even know why you asked me to be here. Clearly, as always, you know best, Dad.”

“Sweetie…”

You slap away your mother’s tentative hand. Her mouth falls as heartbreak fills her eyes.

“May I be excused, Father?” you snap.

“You may,” he replies with a similar tone.

Turning your back to everyone in the room, you make a beeline for your room. 

The faint knock on your door is ignored as you bury your head further in your pillow. You don’t want to talk to anyone right now. No one in this house anyway. You have been betrayed. Sold out. Abandoned. By your own parents, no less. If Janus were here, this wouldn’t have happened, you’re sure of it. He always stood for what’s right. He never let anyone hurt you. He’d have never doubted a word coming out of your mouth. Your brother’s death left you prey to a monster.

“You shouldn’t have left the way you did. I knew you weren’t ready.”

Your head whips up. Adrenaline pours in your blood as you find Coriolanus leaning against your bedroom door. He locks it shut and you sit up immediately.

“All of this could have been avoided.”

“Leave me alone,” you hiss, shrinking in a corner of your bed.

Coriolanus frees a long, weary breath. He takes sluggish steps across your room. You tense when he sits on your bed. His deceptively soft voice propels ice in your veins.

“Like I said before, it doesn’t have to be like this. You’re making this harder than it has to be, princess.” He strokes your ankle. Bile rises in your throat. “I’ll be a good husband, a good father. I’ll take care of you, just like I promised.”

“How can you even be sure I’m pregnant?” you chance, hoping to erode that frustrating certitude laced in his tone. “It was just two or t-three times. It could be a mistake…”

A lopsided slant tugs his lips skywards.

“A mistake? After all the time I spent making sure it takes?” Befuddlement knits your brows. A chilling expression settles over the blond’s features. He chuckles. “Oh princess, god you are so sweetly naive. It wasn’t just three times.” A sinking feeling spreads through you. Coriolanus inches close to you, a small smile creeping on his face. “You know me, I’m a lot more thorough than that.”

You tremble, disarmed by his statement.

“What do you mean? It was. I remember…”

He arches his brow. “Do you?” Coriolanus cocks his head, fondling the side of your face. “You know, you look so pretty when you sleep. Vulnerable, defenseless. You also make such lovely noises. I mean, how could one resist…” You shudder, your eyes growing wide as saucers. “I’m glad the tea helped you find rest. You seemed so at peace. Like that sleeping princess in the fairytale. You never stirred, never woke up, never screamed. Not even once. You just kept making those sweet little noises…” His smile broadens, crooked and taunting. “Like you couldn’t get enough of it.”

You gasp and leap from your bed. The implication behind his words makes your head throb, queasiness engulfing your entire being.

All those times you awoke feeling strange, your body tired in a way that didn’t make sense. 

Now it makes all the ghastly sense.

A sinkhole opens beneath you, the blood seeming to drain from your body all at once.

You stagger backwards until your back collides with the wall, the only thing keeping you on your feet as your knees threaten to give out.

You let out a shaky breath.

“Get out of my room.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he announces matter-of-factly as he gets to his feet. He sighs. “Hopefully you’ll have calmed down so we can have the rest of your things moved to the penthouse.”

As your quivering frame clings to the wall, Coriolanus snorts.

“Cheer up, princess. You have a bright future ahead of you. I can already see us. Me as President and you as my beautiful First Lady. They will love you, I know it. Especially in the districts.”

“You’re…”

“Crazy?” he finishes. He approaches you. You’re paralyzed as he frames your jaw and articulates, “Not crazy. Focused.” His thumb skims over your bottom lip. “Which means when I want something, I usually get it.” His eyes twinkle. “Snow lands on top.”

He drops a quick kiss on your cheek.

“See you tomorrow, princess,” he chimes. You remain still until he unlocks the door and disappears through it. When he’s gone, you let yourself crash onto the floor, unable to hold yourself up anymore.  

You listen for the car outside, the sign of Coriolanus’ departure. Once the revving of the vehicle stops, only silence remaining, you make a mental checklist. You set aside the turmoil inside you, bottling every emotion tight. A warm coat. The sturdiest boots in your closet. Perhaps a dress or two. Sensible pants. Just in case. That stash of money Dad hides beneath a drawer in his study in case of emergencies. What else do you need? 

The more you mull it over, the more determined you become.

In a few hours, Coriolanus will return to take you away. He will not find you.

You will make sure of it.

As you rush through the cold streets of the Capitol, you keep pulling on the hood of your coat. Your panicked gaze darts across the night, your heart jumping every time so much as an alley cat crosses your path. Paranoia creeps in, making your nerves flare and your heart drum. 

What if Coriolanus had you followed? What if he was just waiting around a corner to drag you back to his house? Nothing is impossible nowadays. It might be silly but even as you snuck outside your childhood home, eyes seemed to trail your every step. Still, even as you peer around you, you find nothing but darkness crowding your sight. 

Your feet bounce as you linger on the doorstep. You hesitate before knocking, your fear and insecurities colliding inside you. You tremble as the chilly wind seeps through your coat. This could go so horribly wrong. You were so stupid. 

It would make all the sense in the world if he turned his back on you now. You wouldn’t even blame him. It’s what you deserve.

But before you can brace yourself to knock again, the door opens in front of you.

Overwhelmed with emotions, you toss your arms around him.

“William!”

He doesn’t move at first, frightfully still as you latch onto him. Your chest wrenches. Did you lose him as you feared? 

However, to your utter surprise, his warm, familiar hand sweeps over your back.

He lifts your chin.

“What’s going on…Are you okay?”

Whatever resentment he may have held onto, there is nothing but fondness and worry glistening in his forest gaze now. As if you never ripped his heart from his chest. As if you never left his loving embrace.

You grip the lapels of his shirt.

“William, I know what I said. I know you probably hate me…but I need to leave this place. Tonight.” Your voice warps with tears. “And I don’t want to do it alone.”

His brows draw together, confusion painted on his boyish features. He steps back to check you over. “Wait, slow down. Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“I’m pregnant.”

William stares at you for a long time. Shock, hurt and a million other emotions fleet across his face. Guilt flickers through you. You should have had this conversation with him a while ago.

He bites on his thumb and chuckles but it’s bereft of any amusement. He paces across the room for a while, looking at everything but you. Your heart shatters as you watch him. You didn’t want to put him through this.

He stops in front of you eventually, his mouth tight and his gaze sharp.

“Tell me everything. For once, I want the truth.”

“William, we don’t have time. In a few hours-”

He cuts you off sternly. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you talk to me.”

Your shoulders sag.

“Right, that’s fair.” You gnaw on your lip. “I-I just don’t know where to start.”

He closes the door behind you. You let him take your hand and escort you to the living room. He points for you to sit across from him. William studies you, his hands joined in front of his face. His intense stares bears a hole into you. You fidget, wondering what he’s thinking. His face is hard to read. 

William releases a deep breath before running a hand through his tousled curls.

“How about you start at the beginning?” he says, his eyes diving into yours.

[sweettofuki]

"Every relationship is different, but ours was my favourite" | part two

pairing: hoshina x emotionally reserved reader genre: second chance, angst -> fluff, a little smut summary: Hoshina finds ways to rekindle your love for him warning: minors do not interact, slight cursing mentions: @swivi @kaoiyeva @sleepymeix @lillycore thank you for your support!! I hope you enjoy this continuation!! a/n: part two! part one here

wc: 3.1k

“I’m home,” you heard the door to your shared apartment clicked open.

You walked over to greet your boyfriend, Hoshina, at the front door, who came home late again.

“Hey baby, how was your work today?” you asked

“It was okay. I’m so tired though,” he replied.

You helped him with his bag and got him settled down.

“Do you want me to warm up your dinner? I made your favorite, katsu curry!” you beamed.

He took a sharp inhale. “Actually, my coworkers and I went out for dinner after work. I’m so sorry, dear.”

You sighed, disappointed, before turning your heel to heat up your portion.

“It’s fine, I can keep yours for lunch tomorrow,” you mumbled.

“When’s your next off day?”

“Wednesday.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m off that day too! Do you want to do something together? I was thinking of going to that new cafe that just opened—”

You started rambling about plans for your shared day off, but he seemed uninterested. He just wanted some peace and quiet when he got home. He clicked his teeth against his tongue.

“Actually, is it okay if we stay in? I’m just exhausted from being out every day.”

“… You always do this”

“Do what?”

“You always find excuses not to spend time with me. ‘Captain Ashiro needs me to finish this paperwork.’ ‘Officer Hibino is causing trouble again.’ ‘There’s a new weapon that needs testing.’ When is it gonna be ‘Sorry, I can’t, I have plans with my girlfriend?’’ you huffed.

“You neglect me all the time Soshiro. When are you finally gonna make time for me?” you yelled, frustration boiling over.

“Why are you getting mad at me? We can still spend time if we stay in. I just don’t want to be around people on my off days.”

“But we never go out anymore! Do you even remember the last time we went out?”

“Maybe. I’d be more willing to spend time with you if you didn’t spend every single minute of our time together nagging me,” he snarled.

“well, I’m SORRY for wanting to spend time with my boyfriend. Shoot me!” your voice raising a volume higher, hands balling into fists.

It wasn’t usual for you to raise your voice at him.

His eyes widened before his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Fuck y/n. Can you just shut up for a moment?? I don’t have time to deal with this. I have responsibilities y/n. You can’t expect me to just drop everything because you’re clingy.” he snapped.

A veil of silence fell over you. A sharp pang hit your heart, discomfort spreading across your chest.

“You…you think I’m clingy?” you whispered.

His words resonated repeatedly in your head. You looked down, not even wanting to hear his answer. Slowly, hurt morphed into anger. You felt something inside you snap.

“How the fuck do you think I’m clingy? I barely see you. We live together, and I only see you once a week. And even if we do see each other, you look irritated just talking to me, like it was a chore. You're always late coming home or to our dates—”

“Don’t you think I’m always out late because I don’t want to deal with you!? You’re always breathing down on my neck, suffocating me. I have a duty to serve, y/n.”

You let out a sharp gasp, pain etched across his face as he immediately regretted his choice of words.

But it was too late; he knew there was no taking them back. His words would be forever engraved in your mind.

“Fuck you and your fucking duties. Did you forget that I’m also working the same job as you? You don’t see me giving you excuses just because I’m exhausted. You know what? I’m done.”

Then you turned on your heels and stomped towards your shared room.

Hoshina leaned against the counter, breathing out a deep sigh. Then he heard the sounds of something zipping open, closet doors being thrown open, and frantic rustling.

Suddenly, the drop in temperature was the least of his worries. Panic overtook his exhaustion.

“Y/n, dear? What are you doing?” he shouted down the walkway.

You didn’t answer him .

Until he figured it out himself, reluctantly. He watched as you emerged, dressed and lugging a large suitcase behind you.

“w-where are you going at this hour?”

A stupid question he knew the answer to.

“y/n, please wait. Talk to me, baby—.” he pleaded but got cut off by your cold tone, something he had grown to hate.

“I think we’ve talked enough, Hoshina.” you hissed.

He never knew he could hate the sound of his own family name.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his dry throat. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to tell you that what he said wasn’t true, and apologize endlessly.

He wanted to tell you that he loves you, that when he comes home after a long day and holds you in his arms, he likes the feeling of your warmth and comfort. He adored your bright, contagious smile and your endless patience and love for him.

It wasn’t his first relationship, but he would be damned if you were his last.

Yet, his feet stayed rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

The moment he saw you take your keys, he knew there was no way of turning back time.

He watched your figure disappear behind the closed door, leaving him to stand alone in their empty apartment.

Well, he finally got what he wanted.

You repeated the line in your head, trying to reassure yourself that what you did was the right choice. With you gone, he could focus on his career without anyone holding him back.

But damn, does it hurt.

Hot heavy tears streamed down your face as you drove towards headquarters, where you had a spare private room.

You managed to hold in your tears until you left, refusing to let him see you at your weakest.

You felt like a dam, that broke down from holding in too much pressure for too long. The pain jabbed at your chest, obstructing your airways, making it hard to breathe—

You gasped awake.

Sitting up in bed, you clutched your chest, breathing heavily.

Calm down. Calm down. It was just a dream.

You sank back down into your bed, back in your dorm, your eyes still brimming with unshed tears. Hugging yourself, you sought comfort and fell asleep in your own embrace.

[…]

The next morning, you carried your duties on as usual. In your Captain’s office, you reported on recent improvements among your officers. Then, you discussed upcoming drills and training plans with your Vice Captain.

“Focus up Officer Izumi. You’re doing well,” you called out.

You nodded in approval as Officer Izumi swiftly took aim at the furthest target.

You have been monitoring your platoon’s progress during the drills, and recently, you’ve noticed Officer Izumi had climbed up to one of the top few spots in your squad.

“Hey, Platoon Leader L/N, did you see that shot? Pretty impressive right?” he said, standing a bit too close to your comfort.

“Yeah, good job officer,” you replied nonchalantly, not bothering to meet his gaze.

Lately, you couldn't shake the feeling that Officer Izumi has taken a liking to you. He always finds ways to strike up conversations with you and sometimes he would ‘accidentally’ brush his arm against yours. It hadn't gone unnoticed by the squad, resulting in him being teased constantly behind your back.

Yet, you can’t deny feeling a hint of flattery from receiving said attention. It had been a while since anyone had paid you this much attention since your breakup.

Thank god my dry pussy spell has lifted.

As you walked down the hallway, you heard your name being called out from behind you.

“Platoon commander L/N! Wait up!”

You turned to see Officer Izumi jogging towards you.

“Do you need something, Officer Izumi—”

“I know this is sudden but…I think you’re pretty and I’d like to get to know you better. Will you go out with me?”

Stunned, you’re not sure how to respond to something like that. For a split second, it brought back memories of the last time someone confessed to you—by a vice-captain.

“Officer Izumi, I’m flattered and I appreciate your interest, but I’m sorry. I can’t accept your confession. It crosses professional boundaries.”

He moved closer, you instinctively stepped back, feeling your back hit the wall.

“Why don’t you take some time to consider it? I can wait. Maybe one week or two—”

“She said no, dumbass. Learn to take no as an answer.”

Izumi froze. You turned to see the figure standing behind Izumi. As if just thinking about him made him materialize into thin air.

“What are you doing here, Vice-Captain Hoshina?” you asked

Your division and Hoshina’s share the same headquarters, so it’s not that odd to run into each other. What’s odd, though, is the sheer frequency of running into him, despite the base being HUGE.

Hoshina grabbed the officer by his jacket, effortlessly pulling him back despite Izumi's towering height. Even though Officer Izumi was a head taller than him, it did not seem to affect the vice-captain. However, the mere presence of the Vice-captain and his menacing grin seemed to have affected Izumi.

His grin bore nothing of its usual friendliness.

He smiled at you as he sent Officer Izumi away, flashing his canines. His menacing grin quickly shifted to a gentler smile upon facing you. You can’t deny that his smile didn’t stir up old butterflies in your stomach.

“I leave you alone for one minute and some poor bastard is already chasing after you, with additional borderline sexual harassment.”

“Why would he be a poor bastard? You don’t believe that I’m capable of dating Officer Izumi or anyone else for that matter?” you retorted

You saw a slight twitch in his eyebrows when you mentioned Officer Izumi.

He backed you against the cold, dry wall once more, slamming his hand beside your head with his thumb brushing against your ear. You felt a flame ignited at where his thumb is touching your earlobe, warmth radiating. His body hunched forward, completely caging you in.

“I know you, Doll. You wouldn’t settle for someone like him” he whispered, his intense gaze locking with yours in the close distance, his pupils dilated.

You blushed, immediately looking away and taking a deep breath.

You heard him stifle a laugh, feeling victorious from gaining a reaction from you.

“I don’t think exes normally care about this kind of stuff, Hoshina,” you teased “Like I said before, you don’t know me.”

“Hm, we’ll see about that, L/N,” he replied.

[…]

You were heading to your dorm when you passed by the training room. Light illuminating from an opening in the door.

“Seriously? They never remember to turn off the lights,” you mumbled to yourself

As you entered and made your way toward the light switches, you were about to flip the switches when your attention was drawn to the sparring dummy standing in the middle of the room.

Memories flooded back as you recalled the time when you were training alone, when Hoshina walked in, and you’d asked for his help.

“Baby, you’re not punching hard enough.”

“I don’t want to hurt you Soshiro,” you whined.

“How many times do I have to tell you, dear? I can take a hit! I won’t get hurt that easily, ya know?” he smirked

“Alright, you asked for it, love.”

Stepping back, you closed your eyes to clear your mind, then launched an attack on Hoshina.

Your right arm swung with full force, but he swiftly caught your fist and pulled you close. His arms wrapped around your waist, and with a swift move, he tripped one of your legs, sending you falling backward. In an instant, you went from aiming at his face to gazing up at him against the bright ceiling. His smirking face hovered just inches from yours.

Then his lips closed the distance.

You let out a small squeak at the surprise kiss.

Even after he pulled away, you still felt the softness of his lips lingering on yours.

You wet your lips.

His hungry, crimson eyes glanced down at your mouth.

He breathed out a deep sigh.

“Have I ever told you how absolutely breathtaking you are?”

“Not that I remember.”

In that moment, he fell harder in love by how your lovely lips curled up into a smirk, replicating the one he perfected.

You felt the hands around your waist and the back of your thigh grip harder, his fingers digging into your skin. His breathing grew heavier than before.

“Well, I’m telling you now sweetheart.” He whispered against your lips “You take my breath away.”

This time, he pressed into the kiss harder. He nibbled on your bottom lip, seeking entry with his tongue.

You let out a sharp gasp, which was immediately swallowed into his mouth, feeling something hard pressed against your crotch.

Trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his warm lips gently nibble at your most sensitive spots.

“Babe not here. People might walk by and see us,” you panicked, whispering in a high pitch.

“Let them watch,” he muttered lowly into your skin.

You palmed hard at his hard-on through his pants. He let out a deep groan.

“Are you suggesting we find somewhere more private? Use your words, you naughty girl,” he added, chuckling lowly.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

You were deep in thought when a familiar voice interrupted you.

“Oops, my bad Y/N! I forgot to switch off the lights again," Hoshina said, lightheartedly.

You couldn’t remember when he started going back to first name basis with you again.

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him.

With him, nothing is ever a mistake.

“Oh? What had you so preoccupied that you forgot something so trivial?”

You noticed irritation flicker across his face. You mentally cheered for getting under his skin

“It was an honest mistake, y/n. Surely you've made mistakes in your life too.”

You paused halfway through switching off the lights.

Meeting his gaze, in a hard tone, you replied, "No, I haven't." If your words had made any impact on him, he made sure not to show it, his expression remained neutral as ever.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I suppose I have my moments of absentmindedness.”

You stared aimlessly at the wall ahead, refusing to make eye contact with him, tension thickening the air between you. Finally, he asked, “Did you remember? That night when the kaiju attacked and you exhausted yourself to the point that you blacked out.”

“what about it?” you replied, your voice hinting with intrigue.

There was a brief pause before he continued, his words carefully chosen.

“ When I saw the medics carrying your lifeless body on a stretcher, I felt like my heart dropped. I waited for you to wake up. I was there first thing in the morning and stayed by your side until you regained consciousness. I brought you flowers, hydrangea, your favorite, hoping that the scent will wake you up."

You remembered. The flowers. The empty chair.

Your hand reached out to brush against the beautiful, delicate petals. You ponder to yourself who could have left such a thoughtful gift. Fresh hydrangeas! Coincidentally, your favourite. What you didn’t notice was the pair of footsteps receding after one last glance.

“Thank god you woke up only after two days. If you had died before I could atone my mistakes, I would never forgive myself for watching you take your last breath.” He choked out the last few words, the pain evident in his voice as he imagined the worst. "It made me realised how much I still love you."

He fought back the tears that were pushing against the water gates.

You have never seen him this vulnerable before. A sharp pain throbbed in your chest at the sight of his unshed tears.

“Did you know how I noticed you hadn’t been leaving your office? Because I’ve been passing by your office every day since you left, hoping to see just a glimpse of your face. To know that you’re doing alright. After a week with no signs of you, I started to wait until you fell asleep on your desk before I dared to enter.”

He vividly remembered the moment he quietly stepped into your office, praying that you were too busy or asleep to notice. There you were, sleeping peacefully with your arms cradling your head. He cracked the door open wider, stepping closer to the front of your desk. Taking a peek at your sleeping face, he noticed your deep sunken eyes, the purple hue under your eye, and the discoloration on your cheeks. Almost as if life had drained from you. He gently tucked a strand of loose hair strand behind your ear.

Despite being overworked, and looking like you hadn’t slept in days, he couldn’t help but admire how angelic you looked at that moment. Then he noticed your petite hands trembling from the chill. He looked around the room, his eyes fell on the thick quilt on your couch. With a sigh, he retrieved it, carefully draping it around your shoulders and tucking it in, making sure no amount of warmth could seep out.

You stood frozen in place, staring at him, unsure what to make of his sudden confession. His heartfelt words clashed with your memories, particularly of your last argument with him. You clench your fists involuntarily.

“I don’t know….I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that again, Soshiro!” you cried. “When I left our apartment, I was nothing but my aching soul. It felt exhausting being in that relationship,” You started crying in hysteria, tears pooled in your eyes before they streaked down your cheeks. It was the first time you had really cried in weeks since the breakup. It felt good.

Without another word, you let him slowly embrace you, tightly, as though gathering your broken pieces.

Then you felt something wet hit your head, followed by another. Looking up, you saw tears flowing down his face.

“Please…give me another chance. We don’t have to start off strong right away. We can start at whatever pace that feels comfortable for you! I know I’m the last person who deserves your love right now, but when you left, I never realized how big our apartment was. I finally understood how you must have felt each time I left you alone. I promise you, if you take me back, I’ll never make you feel something like that again.” he begged.

With a shaky breath, you gripped his shirt close as you cried, whiffing in his familiar scent. “Okay, Soshiro,” you said. “Let’s give it one more try.”

“Really?!” he exclaimed, pulling you back to search your face. He held you tighter. “Thank you, baby! Thank you!” His words muffled against your hair.

Both of you stood there engulfed in the soft glow of the dim lights, reunited at last, each feeling as if a missing piece of the other had finally been rediscovered.

[fangisms]

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

[jensengirl83]

At First You Don't Succeed

Dean x reader

Word Count-827

Warnings- language

Summary- Dean forgets the reader's birthday and he tries to make it up to her. But nothing he tries seems to go his way.

Y/N sat at the table in the kitchen, sipping her coffee. She was the first one awake, giving her some time alone and time to think. Dean had gotten back to the bunker very late and crashed. It had been a rough hunt, and she knew how those always seemed to take a toll on him. But she was still a little hurt. Yesterday had been her birthday, and he’d forgotten. 

“Morning, babe,” Dean’s voice rang out in the empty room. 

“Morning,” she mumbled, trying to hide the hurt in her tone. 

“What’s up?” he asked, knowing something was wrong. She was never that short with him. Especially when he had just returned from being away for over a week. 

“Nothin’. I’m good. Did you sleep well?” 

He lifted his brow in concern and confusion. He knew she was lying him, but he didn’t know what, or who, had bothered her. That was until he glanced down at his phone after he had poured his coffee. 

“Fuck!” he grumbled under his breath. 

He’d missed her birthday. 

“What?” she asked, hearing him mumble something. 

“Huh? Oh, nothing, babe. Just stubbed my toe,” he answered quickly, hoping she didn’t know he was lying, “I, uh, I’m going to go clean my guns.” 

He hastily made his way out of the kitchen before she could say anything. He didn’t want to get caught in his lie or see the look of disappointment on her face he knew would surely be there. He hated to make her sad or hurt her feelings, and he had done both for sure. He was going to make it up to her, beg her forgiveness, and hope they could salvage the day. What he didn’t know was nothing he had planned would work out in his favor at all. 

He had tried running her bath after leaving the kitchen that morning, only to get distracted while looking something up on his phone and the entire bathroom flooded with the overdrawn tub. The second thing he’d tried that day was making her lunch and bringing it to her in bed. The lunch part had gone fine until he was three feet from the bed, dropping the plate and spilling the food all over the floor. The giggle that left Y/N had made him mad for a second, but he would keep trying. 

Trying once again, he’d gone to buy her flowers. They didn’t have her favorites, so he  grabbed a bouquet of ones he thought she would think was pretty. Yet again, that had blown up in his face when he brought them home to her, reaching from behind his back, a proud grin on his face, to learn that she was allergic to that type of flower. With a huff of defeat and annoyance, he left to try one more thing. 

Y/N walked into the kitchen that evening, her jaw dropping at the hurricane of ingredients and utensils strewn around the room. It was a complete mess, but she couldn’t help but smile. Standing in the middle of the chaos was Dean, holding the cake he had made her. A shy smile on his face. 

“Uh,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous, “I know it’s not pretty and it probably tastes like shit, but I tried. Hopefully this isn’t going to end like everything else I tried today.”

“Dean,” she sighed happily, walking over and cupping his face in her hands, “It’s perfect.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say perfect. I just hope you like it, sweetheart. And I’m sorry I forgot your birthday. I was just so tired from the hunt, and I just wanted to get home to you and…” 

She interrupted him, crashing her lips to his, pulling away to look at him. Damn, how she loved this man. Yes, he forgot her birthday, but he always carried the world on his shoulders. She really couldn’t be mad that he forgot, considering he’d always remembered every other time. As she looked at him, the little smirk on his face, she began to laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” He huffed, a little miffed that she was laughing at his attempt to make her birthday up to her. 

“I’m sorry, but Dean, you have to admit, all the failed attempts today are a little funny.” 

“I don’t think it’s funny,” he groaned, “I really tried to make it up to you, and nothing would go right.” 

“Aww, babe. You did make it up to me. The fact that you tried that hard, whether it failed or not, shows me that you care. That’s all that matters to me.” 

“Well, shit. If I knew that, I would’ve given up a long time ago,” he laughed when she swatted his arm, “Now, let’s eat this fugly ass cake, and then I’ll show you my last idea of how I’m going to make it up to you.”

[beenbaanbuun]

Mug w/ Jung Wooyoung

this has been in my drafts for months and i’ve always wondered whether or not i should release it since the material could be triggering to some people. i guess i’ve finally settled on putting it out there, so please heed the warnings before reading it. i don’t want this to affect anyone negatively.

warnings: mentions of past abusive relationships, self doubt, slight dissociation, panic attacks, blood, self harm in the form of skin picking. i think that’s it but please let me know if it’s there’s anything i forgot to mention

——————————————————————————

“I’m not mad,” Wooyoung said, as if that made anything better. The tension was still there, eating you alive from the inside out. So was the guilt.

“But you’re disappointed, right?” You countered, knowing how this sort of thing goes. They tell you they’re not mad, but you have to face the consequences anyway. And there were always consequences.

Wooyoung just stared at you with unreadable eyes. They looked almost pitiful in a way, but why would he pity you for what you’d done? He should be screaming at you, throwing things around just to prove his point. Just to make you submit to him once more. That’s how it normally went for you.

But Wooyoung had been kind up until now. He was a gentle soul who preferred to steer you in the right direction if you ever misstepped. There was never any shouting within the four walls of your relationship, nor was there any placing the blame on you being ‘useless’ or any other such word. He was just… nice.

But there had to be a day when that ended, right? You’d fucked up big time this time and he must’ve realised that his kindness isn’t working by now. He had to know that the only way to get you to learn was by putting you in your place.

“Baby, what’s going on?” You were desperate to answer, fumbling over your words trying to find a suitable answer that would reduce your punishment. Perhaps you could tell him you were sick! That always worked when your last partner was mad at you. It would at least postpone whatever was going to happen for a few days. Wooyoung, just frowned. “Calm down, sweetheart.”

But you couldn’t. You knew this was the breaking point so how could you be calm about such a thing? No matter how gentle Wooyoung had been up until this point, you knew it wouldn’t always stay that way. If you’d been taught anything it’s that you were a bad girlfriend, and the only way to make you good was to hurt you. Fear was a powerful teacher, afterall. Fear wouldn’t let you be so careless about your actions.

It would hurt to say goodbye to this version of Wooyoung, you had to admit, but you always knew it was coming. He couldn’t stay his annoyingly loving self forever because you couldn’t stay well behaved forever. You only had yourself to blame for what was to come, really. Did you even have the right for it to hurt?

No, you decided rather quickly.

Wooyoung stared at you, unsure of what to do as you seemed to completely depart from reality. Your eyes were glazed over as you stared off into the distance, and your fingers picked at one another so bad that it fetched blood. You didn’t flinch as the crimson liquid beaded up on your fingers, though, almost as if it didn’t hurt you at all.

Your breathing was heavy and ragged and Wooyoung could tell you were barely staving off a panic attack. He’d done it often enough himself to know exactly how to recognise it, but for some reason, he didn’t know how to help. Something told him you didn’t want to be touched, but he wasn’t sure of how else to get your attention. He’d been calling your name with no success, but the last thing he wanted was to raise his voice. If he was in the slightest bit angry with you, perhaps he would’ve, but he wasn’t. Not at all.

He spared a quick glance towards the trash can, his favourite mug resting at the top in shards. It was really the only one he used, the weight of it just feeling… right. You’d bought it for him when you first started dating a few months ago and although the saying on it made him cringe a little, he’d learnt to love it. Of course, he was sad to see it go, but it was only a mug. He could always get another one. It wouldn’t be the same, but then again, was anything ever the same as the thing it replaced? And you never know, maybe he’d end up preferring whatever mug he got to replace it.

With a sigh, he turned back to you. There were bigger issues to deal with than a mug. You were still barely keeping away a panic attack and your blood from your fingers starting to smear grotesquely across your hands. He briefly wondered where he kept his first aid kit before realising that too was a problem for later.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled as he walked closer. He didn’t lay a hand on you but instead spread his arms as if he were herding a scared animal. He felt stupid doing it, but you started to back up and eventually landed upon his sofa. He tried to ignore the pang of pain that shot through his chest when he thought too deep about the implications of the situation, but it was hard when you were backing away from him like he was going to hurt you.

Oh.

His stomach lurched and for a moment he was sure he was going to throw up. He begged for it not to be true, but it fit way too perfectly not to be.

Someone had hurt his baby.

Wooyoung couldn’t help the rage that filled him from head to toe.

He wanted to scream, and throw things, just to get his rage out, but he couldn’t. To risk scaring you even more would be a cruel thing for him to do. Even if he were sure it would make him feel just a little more calm, he couldn’t bear to think of doing anything that would make you afraid of him. He simply had to hope that his anger would eventually peter out, and he wouldn’t be reminded of it every time he looked at you.

Deep breaths, he told himself as he took himself over to the sofa to sit beside you. One in, he shuffled closer so he was almost pressed up against you. You shuddered and Wooyoung frowned, but he didn’t move away. He couldn’t move away.

One out, he said your name in the softest voice he could muster, finally bringing you out of the trance you’d found yourself trapped in. He wondered why this time it worked when all of the other times you ignored him. Perhaps it was his proximity. It was a long shot, but perhaps you felt a little safer with him so close.

One in, he asked if you could hold you in his arms.

One out, you gave him a shaky nod and crawled into his lap. He hated to think that you were only doing it because you thought he’d be mad otherwise, so he let you know that you didn’t have to.

You did it anyway.

“Sweetheart, I need you to tell me that you understand that I’m not angry,” he whispered into your ear, wrapping his arms around you tightly. When he was fresh out of a panic attack, he always liked pressure. With the way you seemed to go limp, he assumed you felt the same. “Not disappointed either. It’s a mug, baby.”

“Your mug,” you replied as if that made your reaction seem any more normal, “I broke your favourite mug.”

Wooyoung sighed. Whilst it was the truth, it was nothing to be angry over. He wondered how many times he’d have to clarify that to you before you understood? Whatever. It didn't matter. He’d tell you as many times as you needed to hear it, just as long as you knew you were safe.

“We’ll it’s only my favourite because my favourite person got it for me,” not a complete lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. For some reason, though, he felt as though ‘it was a nice weight in my hands’ wouldn’t have been so effective in trying to get you to calm down.

“But I bought you that mug?” His heart broke a little, but he couldn't let that show. He refused to give you another reason to throw mental punches at yourself.

“Well then, I guess that makes you my favourite person.”

There was silence for a few seconds as you considered his words. There was no trace of a lie in his voice, but you still found it hard to believe that he was telling the truth. He was surrounded by so many wonderful people who didn’t fuck up nearly as often as you did, and yet he still chose you to be his favourite? You doubted it, but you would never call Wooyoung a liar.

“And I want my favourite person to know that I would never do anything to hurt them,” he continued, voice suddenly a little more solemn, “because why would I ever want to hurt someone as lovely and precious as you?”

“I’m not lovely,” you hid your face in his neck, partially to cover the blush, partially because you were afraid of what may come at the inadvertent accusation. He merely chuckled, bringing a hand to cup the back of your head.

“Yes you are, you little liar,” a kiss, warm and chaste, was placed to your temple, “and I don’t know how anyone could ever tell you you’re anything less than the most wonderful person to ever walk this planet. You’re so kind and thoughtful and even if you do mess up sometimes, that’s okay because you’re human.”

You just nodded into his neck, no longer wanting to deny his compliments. Even if they were just being used to butter you up, you let them sink in. As long as they came from Wooyoung’s mouth, you told yourself you would believe them, for his sake. He’d yet to prove himself to be anything but a good boyfriend, the least you could do was believe him.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your hair, “so incredibly much.”

“I love you too, Woo.”

“Will you let me patch you up?” He asked, pointing at your fingers but placing his hand over your chest where your heart was beating deep within. You couldn’t know for certain that this relationship would be different, but the look in Wooyoung’s eyes made you feel like you could trust him. It would be a long process, you knew that, but you knew he would put in the work.

You knew that he could make you feel safe.

[bunnypeew]

Venom - Alastor x gn!reader

WARNINGS: Angst, Fluff, self harm mentioned slightly

oke so again i’m very sad recently,, for reasons,,, so i wanted to write a angst that ends in fluff so you’ve been warned, may be ooc for Alastor!

they never had such a fight to the point where Y/n cried, sniffling and hiccuping all the the way into the argument, and Alastor didn’t know how to handle this since he was mad, he was also in and out of his demon form but he was keeping it at bay as not to hurt them.

“Al you are not listening to me,,

they say with a sigh, then dry away their tears and straights themself up, now with a determined look on their face, they then turned around to leave.

Alastor was taken aback by this move and sent a tentacle to their wrist to stop them from opening the door.

“where do you think you’re going, mon cher?,,

he says in an assertive tone, but still soft at the end of the phrase. He was scared, he was getting scared they were gonna leave and never comeback, he hated that they made him weak, soft.

“i’m going out, I-I just need a moment Al sorry,,

they took off the tentacle gently, he didn’t use force he went limp and looked at them leaving his radio tower, leaving him to himself.

a few hours had gone by and all Alastor did was bounce his foot on the floor and tap his staff with his long claws, he was waiting, surely they’d comeback to him like they always did right? it wasn’t that bad of a fight to him, it was one like the other.

to them tho it was a disappointment, more proof he didn’t listen when they spoke

they went to their hotel room and hid under the blankets of their bed, still crying and sniffling away their pain. Words were stuck in their throat, they felt like venom that was about to kill them, they didn’t like to think bad about Alastor, they loved him a lot so these thoughts were intruding their brain without permission, they started hitting their head slightly, they tended to do that when they were really upset or having a panic attack, they were having also problems breathing so they got up to go to the bathroom to free their nose, that was until they heard a soft knock on the door, it was his classical knock, they flopped their arms down from their nose and sighed, now walking towards the door, cracking it a little bit to see Al staring outside, smile strained as to show he was also very upset, he never did stop smiling but they noticed whenever his emotions shifted.

“mon cher, may i come in please,,

they started considering, looking at the floor then looking back at Alastor then sighing again, they then opened the door for him letting him in the walked and buried themself in th blankets once again.

Alastor had noticed how puffy their eyes were as soon as they opened the door, making him understand that they had been crying for a while now, since they left anyways.

He sits softly down in the bed near them, placing his cane down next to him, he softly sighed looking at the bundle of blankets, still hearing sniffles and cries, his hand reaching out to stroke them but stopped mid air, then flopping back into place next to his body.

“Tu sais, je n'aurais jamais pensé que tu me quitterais comme ça, tu m'as fait peur,,

“You know, i never thought you'd walk out on me like that, you scared me,,

he was speaking french, which meant he was really stressed and truthful, being genuine at the very least, they put their hands in their hair and started pulling slightly Alastor could feel something was wrong so he took the blanket off from their head, seeing what they were doing his heart sunk, he soflty took their hands and pulled them towards his face, they were whining a little bit at the contact and cried even more.

Alastor started kissing at their knuckles, stroking softly with his clawed hands then looked them in the eyes

“I don’t want you hurting yourself because of me, understood?,,

he breathes on their hands kissing again and waiting for some sort of reply from them, they struggled but murmured a little sorry before hiccuping

“oh mon cœur, you don’t have to say sorry, come here,,

he opened his arms for them to crawl on his chest and get comfortable, he started stroking their hair, kissing on it then they sit there in silence for a little while so they could come down

“I adore you, you know that right?,,

he says softly, they nod slightly

everything was peachy again, good.

AAAH I LOVED WRITING THIS!! again it’s a little ooc but i needed it,, i’m a sucker for soft Alastor hope you enjoyed!!

[earlgreydream]

I see you. professor!kylo ren x reader

happy Star Wars day! as per tradition, @little-diable and I had to do a sexy little kylo ren collaboration for you 🖤

cw: stalking

She felt eyes on her wherever she went. Following her around like a shadow sewn to her boots. Teasing her from afar as if they knew she could never catch them. Whoever was watching her was playing a game (y/n) could only lose.

“Miss (y/n), would you mind staying back for a moment?” Professor Ren’s voice filled the room, forcing her tired eyes off the ground. Her insides began to churn as she slowly walked up to his desk, having to swallow the bile rising in her throat – she had begged her fates to help her, to make her disappear before the handsome professor could catch her. But even today they seemed to ignore her.

“I think you know why I asked you to stay back, don’t you?” He was leaning against his desk, arms crossed in front of his broad chest. A perfect view of his bulging muscles, forcing his shirt to stretch – it was a sight (y/n) was all too used to by now, months after first joining this class. And yet it still left her distracted, bothered by the handsome professor she thought of whenever heat began to pool between her thighs.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll turn the missing essays in this weekend.” The defeated sigh leaving the tall man made goosebumps rise on (y/n)’s forearms. Tears were about to well up in her tired eyes, tears that would leave her embarrassed, not daring to cry in front of the man she longed for. She hated disappointing him, hated lacking in her homework, once the best student of his class – nothing but hazy memories she barely remembered by now.

“What is going on, (y/n)? You were such an eager student last semester. Did something happen?” Pain shot through her at his question, forced to avert her gaze before she could spill her secret about what has kept her awake late at night these past weeks. Professor Ren kept his eyes focused on her, clearly aware of her struggles to put whatever was plaguing her into words. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m being stalked.” The words clawed through (y/n) before she could stop them from leaving her, lured out of her by the nickname he had used. She still couldn’t look at him, rather focusing on her trembling fingers trying to hold onto her books, clinging to them as if they were a pillar holding her together as if she was an ancient building.

(Y/n) felt the professor move, engulfed by their silence, but the second his hand met her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, (y/n) could no longer stop her tears from rolling. One after another rolled down her cheeks, dripping onto the cold ground both were standing on.

“Did you tell anybody else about this?” She felt small in his grasp, his big hands covering most parts of the left side of her face. (Y/n) had to stop herself from pressing further into his grasp as she shook her head, unable to speak up. “Alright, for now we’ll keep this between us. If whoever is stalking you hears of you telling others, they may escalate. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I am sorry.” Her voice wavered as she spoke, lured out of her by his closeness, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the feeling of his hand still cupping her cheek. Carefully, she was pulled against his chest, allowing the tall man to hug her as if he wasn’t her professor, as if he wasn’t in a position of power he was now clearly abusing.

“There is nothing you have to be sorry for, (y/n). I’ll help you with this, I promise. Here, let me give you my number. From now on, you call me whenever you feel like you’re being watched.”

……

The door to Kylo’s home slammed shut behind him, his hands twitching as he ripped the white button-down from his toned body. He was driven mad by the ghost of her body against his, the way her breasts pressed to his chest when he hugged her.

Kylo’s breathing was ragged as he made his way through the house, hands roughly undoing the buttons on his jeans, freeing himself from the tight constraint. He dropped onto the bed, curly hair flopping around his face in a dark halo as if he were a prince of hell. Kylo craved her sweet little body against his — naked this time, and all of the things he could do to make her writhe and scream his name.

His cock was rock-hard as he thought of y/n, aching to touch her, more than just the way his hands skimmed her waist when she pulled away from his embrace. Kylo stroked himself with a large hand, wishing it was her. He fantasized about fucking her precious mouth — the source of her tears choking on his size.

Kylo moaned. It was filthy, the images in his mind of y/n on her knees, begging for the cock he was jacking off. He was embarrassingly close, only a few moments away from climax, desperately wishing he was buried in her cunt.

Kylo’s full lips parted with a breathless hiss as he came into his hand. He stared at a framed photo of y/n on his bedside, ignoring the mess he’d made on his palm and lower abdomen, dreaming she were there to clean it with her tongue.

……

Kylo waited. It was Tuesday, so she was due for her weekly study session at the campus coffeehouse. He anxiously checked his watch, eyes snapping upward at the tinkling of doorbells overhead.

He saw a flash of her as she walked inside, her usual cheerful expression hollowed out by grim anxiety. His own smile vanished, hating to see her upset. As much as he longed to run in after and embrace her, he lurked in the shadows of an alley across the street, watching through the glass storefront. He was just making sure she was safe from anyone who might have sinister intentions.

Kylo was lost in thought when his cell began to buzz in his blazer pocket. Her cell number lit up across the screen, y/n holding her phone to her ear inside the shop.

“Hello. y/n?” Kylo answered, his lips pulling into a smile as she finally called him.

“Professor Ren—”

“Kylo, please,” he interrupted gently.

“Kylo, I’m…” the words died in her throat, she felt so ridiculous calling him just because of that eerie feeling that crawled up her spine.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Kylo’s voice soothed, and she found herself blinking back tears.

“I’m at the coffeehouse, and it’s probably nothing, but… you said to call you if I felt like I was being watched,” y/n stumbled over the words, unsure of how to ask her professor for help.

“I’m not far, I’ll come to you,” he spoke, swallowing the happiness in his voice knowing that he’d be close to you.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Relief visibly melted the fear on her face as he entered the door. She lowered her phone, quickly brushing her eyes with the back of her hand. Kylo’s long strides closed the distance, and he took a seat beside y/n on the couch.

“I’m here, you’re safe,” he promised, lightly touching her knee, breaching just a little bit further than he had before, his heart racing from the risk of being seen.

Kylo hushed the apologies, insisting that he was happy to join her.

……

“Are you sure I’m not imposing?” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through Kylo’s house. She had her arms wrapped around herself, somewhat trying to hide her trembling body from his intense gaze. Just his mere gaze left her aching for his closeness, feeling unusually protected and safe around him.

“Of course not, sweetheart. You’re safe here, I promise!” Kylo showed her one of his rare smiles as he guided her towards his living room, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his big hand. (Y/n) looked so small next to him, perfect for him to own, to protect, to hold.

“I just,” a sigh left her as they plopped down on the dark couch, sitting closer as any other professor and his student would. His outer thigh pressed against hers, letting her feel the warmth he emanated while (y/n) played with her shaking fingers.

“What is it?” His fingers found her chin, turning her face towards his concerned one. Their eyes met, hers full of fear and sadness, his full of curiosity and comfort. She struggled to find her words, too distracted by his closeness, the way her body reacted to him, and the unfamiliar need taking up her body.

(Y/n) couldn’t pinpoint what it was that drove her on, but her body began to move without her mind being able to stop her, pressing her lips against his plush ones. For a second, Kylo didn’t react to the sudden touch, forcing (y/n) to retreat with fear suddenly overtaking her, cursing herself for being this stupid. But the second her lips left his, Kylo drew her back in.

She straddled his lap as Kylo deepened the kiss, high on (y/n)’s need for distraction. The moan that clawed through her as she ground her hips against his burned through his whole system, urging Kylo on to hold her even closer. His touch made her feel alive, properly seen for the first time as if the mirror finally caught her reflection, allowing (y/n) to feel something she had only dreamt of until now.

“Careful, sweetheart. I won’t be gentle if we take this any further.” Kylo’s voice grew lower with every syllable he spoke, letting his words vibrate against her swollen lips. But (y/n) seemed to be stuck in some form of trance that robbed her of her voice, kissing Kylo once again.

She felt him rise to his feet with her clinging to him, arms and legs wrapped around his broad frame. He carried her towards his bedroom without breaking the kiss once, revelling in her closeness and her need for him.

She gasped as their lips finally parted, her body sinking into the bed where he laid her. Kylo’s wild eyes burned with lust, his lips swollen and hair slightly dishevelled from the way she had clawed through him. He knelt between her parted legs, gazing down at the prize in his bed as he took a beat to catch his breath.

Nerves began to get the best of her, making her squirm on his sheets. Kylo’s hand went to her bare thigh, a sundress pushed up nearly high enough to reveal a glimpse of her underwear. Y/n stilled at the touch, whimpering softly for him, her body itching for some sort of relief that only he could satisfy.

“What a pretty sight you are, I should take a picture of you.” His words left her panting, high on his praises. Y/n wanted to reply, wanted to tell him that she was purely his in a moment like this, but her words were lost on her lips as Kylo pushed her panties aside to let his mouth find her heat.

“Oh, heaven.” Y/n sighed her words, ready to drown in the wave of lust his touch pushed through her. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her feel as if she was burning alive, laid beneath him like his last ever meal. Kylo ate her out with an unfamiliar passion, it took over every part of his body, guiding him to safety as she trembled beneath him.

His eyes watched her every expression, watching her lips part as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, eagerly swallowing his digits as if he were fucking her with his aching cock. Soon enough he’d have her, soon enough he’d make her his, forever bound to him by the way he’d fuck her through her high.

“Kylo,” y/n gasped his name as he curled his fingers against her swollen spot, a sensation that was lost the second he pulled away. He parted from y/n to undress, to expose every inch of his broad, muscular frame to her wide eyes.

Y/n’s heart picked up its beat at the sight of his naked form, squealing in surprise as he pulled her dress from her frame, groaning as her naked breasts were exposed to his dark eyes. She couldn’t speak up, couldn’t ask any further questions as he reached for a condom, telling her that this was really happening.

She needed a second to calm down, to accept that everything was spinning, that she’d lose herself in the touch of her professor. But somehow she still felt safe, awfully safe in Kylo’s closeness, ready to give herself to him.

“You’re mine, and you always will be mine.” He spoke the words as he pushed into her, letting his cock part her walls. It felt as if he was ripping her open, bigger than she was used to, unsure how to take all of him. Her whines bled in his ears like a warcry, urging him on to take what was rightfully his, overpowering the darkest thoughts that whispered to him.

Her nails dragged down his freckled chest, leaving harsh red lines in their wake. Beautiful eyes were hidden behind wet lashes that were squeezed shut in raw, aching pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so much better than I could’ve imagined.” Kylo swore, his lips pressing hot, wet kisses to her collarbone, ghosting up her neck.

He was drunk on the pleasure, her warm cunt tight around his cock, urging him to thrust harder, bruising her hips.

“Let me hear you, tell me you belong to me!” Kylo demanded of y/n as her back arched, chasing the orgasm he was keeping just out of reach.

“I’m yours, I’m yours,” she whimpered, gasping beneath him as his fingers circled her clit.

She shuddered beneath him, trembling from the intensity of him, throat hoarse from crying his name. He allowed y/n to weave her fingers through his hair, pulling him into a heavy kiss as she came. Kylo’s teeth tugged at her lip, dizzied by the wrecked moan it dragged from her swollen lips.

The slick sound of him pulling out was the only noise in the room before he painted her lower belly with white ribbons. Kylo fell back on his heels, kneeling above her to catch his breath, admiring his prey, lured into his bed and torn to pieces, marked with his seed.

Y/N’s eyes were closed, her body succumbing to the exhaustion that he’d inflicted. He took a moment to admire her in the state, before taking photos with his phone before she could object.

……

She was his. He was the only one to keep her safe. He was the only one to protect her from any and every evil. She was his.

Kylo hid behind the pair of dark sunglasses that matched the dark cap he wore, shielding his frame from her curious eyes. Y/n was sitting a few feet away from him, sharing a coffee with her friend as they rambled about things he couldn’t hear.

He still felt her wrapped around him, the way she had clenched his cock, how she had moaned for him. A perfect match made in heaven, Kylo was sure of it.

It was on him to watch her. It was on him to keep her safe. Even though she would never know it were his wandering eyes she felt following her around.

[konigseyess]

Ghost as an overprotective asshole!! like he’s rude to you but he just wants you safe?

Pairing: Ghost x fem!reader

Content Warnings: +18 SMUT (minors please dni!), unprotected sex (p in v).

Ghost would be so fucking rude to you sometimes. To the point where it would make you hate him even more each time he did it. And it would be a slow burn thing for sure between you two.

He’d be scolding you out for doing this or that wrong, telling you to pick up your pace because you’re too slow or too small. He’d start to watch you in trainings and even if you’d do good, he’d just pick on things you could’ve done better and he’d make sure to tell you after practice - but not in a nice way - but he’d tell you how you could improve. You’d quickly grow tired of hearing him.

Like shooting practices: you’d aim with your gun and shoot perfectly and he’d walk past behind you and say “not bad.” And if you happened to hear him you’d just roll your eyes, telling him to shut up or just ignore him.

At the cafeteria he’d just walk straight to you and sit beside you uninvited. You’d notice he’d just follow you like a puppy, everywhere you go, but once you confront him on it he’d just turn sour again and be rude to you. He wouldn’t really show his emotions.

He’d shout at you and a few minutes after check on you to make sure you were good. You’d scold him off, tell him to leave you the fuck alone and he’d turn into a puddle of regret. He’d apologise and you would think he’s gone mad. Ghost apologising? You’d say something in the line of “whatever” or “as if you even meant it”, and you’d the see the regret on his eyes through his mask. Eventually, you’d see the hurt in him and you would say it’s fine. And he’d leave you alone for the night.

The next day you’d be walking beside another recruit, conversing or laughing, and he’d come up behind you and fall back into his normal behaviour. “Don’t you have work to do?” or asking you to do this or that for him, giving you absurd tasks so he could keep a watchful eye on you at all times.

He’d insist on you calling him Lieutenant, but very few times he’d correct you and say to call him Simon. He’d give you these profound mixed signals and you’d eventually get tired of his behaviour to the point where you avoided talking to him at all. He’d notice this and he’d make sure you addressed him whenever this happened, asking questions about the missions and other nonsense.

He would totally try to get you alone with him. And you recognise there was some kind of tension there, but you tried to push it off, he was an asshole after all. He’d call you to his office or ask you to help him with the ran over or revision of the mission accomplishments. “Couldn’t you have asked König or someone else to help you with this?” you’d ask. “They’re busy.” he’d simply say, always in the same inexpressive tone to his voice.

He’d tell you to not hang around certain new recruits because he’d say they were bad company or would distract you from your work. He’d admit you were a great soldier and that those people eventually would disappoint, and you shouldn’t be involved with them. You’d laugh at his statement and say “Is that an order as well?”. He’d look you in the eyes and say eyes. “Since when are you authorised to determine who I talk to or not?” you’d ask in a mocking way. “I’m your fucking Lieutenant and you’ll do as I say.” he would stand from his chair and you’d look up at his figure silently for a few seconds. You’d chuckle and say quietly “Is that all, Lieutenant?”. He’d nod yes and you’d get up abruptly, heading to the door. You’d open it and he’d close it behind you, talking your hand in his and pushing you against the door as he grabbed your face and kissed you intensely.

Your eyes would widen but after a couple seconds it all made sense. The constant teasing you misread as pure evil, the regular office hours scheduling missions and discussing his objectives, the way he would keep you busy, keeping you away from certain people. It was all so obvious as your lips would be connected in this closed room, away from others eyes.

Eventually he’d pull back to breathe and evaluate your expression. You’d look at him, mouth slightly parted as you watch his eyes read your expression with such intent. He’d start to mumble soft words like “I’m sorry.” or “I shouldn’t have done that.”, but you’d quickly cut him off with another kiss. You’d jump on him, him grabbing the back of your legs as you wrapped them around his waist.

His hands would be firm, but gentle, unlike his tone ever since you both met. He wouldn’t be able to keep his grip off you, as he sat on top of his high desk, with you still straddling his lap.

Once you two stopped kissing to take a breath, Ghost would say something in the lines of “I thought you hated me” with a smug expression on his face. “Likewise” you’d reply, only to connect both your lips once again.

He’d help you take off your gear and unzip your pants, only for you to do the same to him. You’d watch his half-lidded eyes trace every single curve of your body behind his mask. It’s like he was trying to memorise them all.

You’d waist no time. The tension built between you two for the past months was unbearable, and you both needed to make it go away. With you sat on his lap, you’d spread your legs further apart in order for him to have better access. As soon as he realised what you were allowing him, he rushed to try and adjust himself into your entrance. Once your sexes connected, Ghost filling your void deeply, you both moaned in unison, filling the quiet office with your voices.

Praises like “fuck”, “you’re so perfect”, “we fit just right”, “good fucking girl”, between other obscenities like him telling you how tight you were, how wet you were for him, how his name sounded so sweet coming from your lips.

He’d ask you to call him Simon. He’d ask you to repeat his name between moans over and over again. He’d never grow tired of it. In fact, it would help him reach his high after yours. He’d moan your name for sure once he reached his orgasm, mixed in with grunts and exhales.

Once you’d try to let go of him and get up on your feet, he’d wrap your arms around your waist, not planning to let you go. You’d be surprised by his want to keep you close, you’d always expecting this to be a one time thing, no feelings attached. Absolutely no after care. But Ghost knew how to prove you wrong apparently.