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bakugo-softski · 22 days

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In which Izuku is left quirkless, so they find a new reason

Katsuki stayed crouched above Izuku, pinning one arm with his foot and clasping the other, pressed to the floor of the training mat. Almost in an exact replica of their fight at ground beta all those months ago, minus one arm and a slight change in hand placement. They both stay like that, breathing heavily, staring into eachothers eyes with the mutual feeling of impending doom sat heavily between them.

Because Izuku was getting weaker.

Katsuki had noticed, though he tried his best to ignore it. They both did, afraid to speak it into reality. Afraid for their dynamic to change. But as Katsuki had an easier and easier time pinning Izuku, as the embers slowly died out, they both found it hard to ignore that this…whatever it was they had, was coming to an end. Katsuki felt frantic, empty. Watching as something dear died before him, completely out of his reach.

Izuku had resolved to accept his fate, his eventuality. He didn’t mind being quirkless again. The loss held between them came from a different place, and they both knew it.

“…Kacchan?” Sad. So sad.

Katsuki released his hold and stood up, before offering Izuku his hand to help the boy up, too. They stood in silence, Izuku still breathing heavily and looking embarrassed about it, unable to find the words to express what they both clearly wanted to say to eachother.

“I’ll make katsudon tonight.” A common condolence when Izuku suffered yet another decline in power. It seemed now that one for all was gone for good, the embers inside izuku were dying at an increased rate than what All Might had gone through. The embers seemed to die at a steady rate regardless if Izuku used OFA or not. The night they’d realized, they fought eachother deep into the night, openly crying at eachother and throwing punches. A silent agreement they’d do this as often as they could, until they couldn’t anymore.

This.. felt like a goodbye. Katsuki stared into Izuku’s eyes and felt like he was at a funeral.

“…okay. Thank you, Kacchan.”

With one last look into Izuku’s eyes, Katsuki turned and walked out, Izuku staying behind to put distance between them. To give eachother space. Katsuki managed to stifle the sob caught in his throat till he made it onto the elevator.

Katsuki poked the pork frying in the pan on autopilot. In his head, he thumbed through the same stack of thoughts sitting heavily in his mind like clockwork. He felt lost, weak, trapped. Condemned to a fate he had no control over. They wouldn’t be able to keep fighting, now. Izuku had stopped being able to keep up with catch-a-kacchan months ago now. They had been staying ground-level for a while now but they both knew even that was too much for him now. The embers were barely even there anymore.

Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku since he’d left him at the gym. They hadn’t texted eachother, either. What would they even say? There weren’t words. Katsuki didn’t have the words.

At this, Izuku makes his first appearance in hours, to slink into the kitchen and stand beside Katsuki. He’s silent for a moment.

“…Can i help?”

Katsuki is relieved those were the words that came out of Izuku’s mouth, instead of..well.

He lets out a little breath of relief.

“Sure. Grab the egg, mirin and soy sauce for me.” Mix it together, equal parts, four eggs, and chop some of those green onions while you’re at it.”

“Got it.” Izuku flits around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and settling again beside Katsuki, beginning his task.

They don’t know how to bring it up, but the silence is somehow comfortable, each settling in to their tasks, accomplishing the same goal of katsudon together. Katsuki can’t bring it up, but he’s thankful to have a reason to be near Izuku like this. Even if it is just making a meal together. They don’t say much else, afraid to break whatever fragile comfort they’d created.

They ate in silence. And then stared into space together, in silence. And then Katsuki said he’d wash their dishes, and then Izuku left, in silence; and Katsuki wished he’d asked him for help instead.

10:24pm.

Katsuki stared into the dark, in silence. Thought about texting Izuku. Couldn’t find the words.

It’s Saturday. Katsuki came down to make breakfast. Hoped to see Izuku, but he didn’t show. Thought about taking the food to him, put it in the fridge instead.

4:24pm. He’d stayed in the common room the whole day, but Izuku never showed, and Katsuki couldn’t find the words to give him a reason to seek the boy out. What could he even say? “You haven’t eaten all day.” ? As if. How stupid for Katsuki to care about that when…when he couldn’t even..

Fuck it. A reasons a reason, Katsuki supposes.

Katsuki sped through the curry prep, in a hurry to get it to Izuku’s door and tell him he hasn’t eaten all day. With two steaming bowls held on a dish platter, because he didn’t want Izuku’s to get cold while he ate alone, he marched his way up to Izuku’s room and knocked firm, once, twice, and waited.

Izuku opened the door quickly, and Katsuki saw he was in a similar shape to himself, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept either.

“You haven’t eaten.” An observation, a request, a plea.

Izuku looked at the bowls, took one. Stood in the doorway, awkward.

At the same time Katsuki makes to turn away, Izuku speaks up. “Do you want to come in? You just, you have two bowls. You don’t have to…but. Um. I’d like you to.”

His response was immediate. “Yeah.” A breath, a small relief. A break from the pain.

They both settle down on Izuku’s bed to eat, backs against the wall. Close, even if neither one of them acknowledged it. They didn’t speak. Until,

“Um. So, theres a show I started a couple days ago. Do..you wanna watch it with me?” Izuku digs around for the remote. Kacchan grunts for him to go ahead, so Izuku turns it on from the beginning and they settle back in to eating, watching together.

9:52pm.

They’re on episode five now, bowl’s of curry empty and forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They’ve pulled Izuku’s blanket up over their legs and are zoned into the show, a merciful relief. A reason. Katsuki hides his yawns as subtly as he can, and Izuku pretends not to notice.

They both pretend not to notice when Katsuki subtly shifts further into the bed, afraid to break the spell. They’re both tired enough to not think about it.

8:46am.

Katsuki blinks his eyes open and finds the clock on the wall that doesn’t belong to him, and then feels legs that also don’t belong to him entangled with his own. He can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. Izuku is sleeping peacefully, soft snores and breaths coming out in little puffs, one hand resting peacefully on his chest and the other holding Kacchans forearm, which was sat snuggly against the curve of Izukus side, being held in place in the air. Katsuki didn’t dare move. The TV sat dark and paused on the wall, long forgotten. He’d have to check with Izuku to see when they both fell asleep so they knew how far back to go, he thought idly. A problem for later, though.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

When he woke back up Izuku was silencing his phone, his ringtone for Uraraka being cut short and detangling his legs from Katsuki’s in order to stand up from the bed.

“You..we fell asleep last night.”

“Yeah.” A yawn.

“The show’s good. Whats the last part you remember? We’re probably gonna have to find where we left off.”

“Oh uh, i think..the new guy, the blonde one had just fought with that guy in the boat restaurant. I think he was gonna leave.”

“Huh? The last thing I remember is whats her name and whats his face playing some drinking game.”

A chuckle. “I’ll go back and find our spot tonig-when we-um. Anyway. I’m..I’m glad you liked it, Kacchan.”

“I’ll come back tonight. And we can watch more.” Small reliefs. Small reliefs, small reliefs.

A smile, small, shared. “I’d like that.”

Silence.

“So. Um. It’s..it’s Sunday.”

Sundays they typically spent the whole day in the gym, sparring, being in each others company. Katsuki didn’t get much physically from their sparring sessions these days, they both knew it. They seemed to be at an understanding though, of what they got from their Sundays together.

Suddenly, Katsuki had a thought. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, eager to run from the conversation he so badly feared having.

“Lets go play some fucking baseball, Zuku.”

Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks funny like that, Katsuki thinks. It makes his stomach do a weird little flip that he usually only felt in the heat of the moment during their fights and sparring sessions, back when Izuku was at full strength. The feeling puts a surprised little crease between his own brows.

“…hah..what?” Izuku’s smiling, confused.

Katsuki keeps going, fueled by the quick return of the feeling he hasn’t felt in months, replacing the impending doom.

“C’mon, nerd, let’s go to the batting cages back home and play some fucking baseball. Maybe we can stop at your moms and say hi or something while we’re out.”

Silence. But..different this time. Better. Expectant.

Izuku huffs out a little laugh, relief of some sort.

“Yeah, Kacchan, that sounds good.”

It does sound good, Katsuki thinks.

“Hold your fucking arms higher, nerd!”

“Shuddup! I know how to hit a ball, Kacchan!”

“Getting cocky, huh, Zuku? Since when do you talk back to me you little shit?” Katsuki hasn’t felt this much like himself in months.

“You make it easy being such a know-it-all, Kacchan.”

“I’m a know-it-all, because i know it all, you little asshole. Don’t you patronize me.”

They’re both laughing, and Izuku is trying his best to hit the baseballs flying towards him in between snorts of laughter and playful banter. It’s so easy like this. Katsuki had imagined the day Izuku’s ember’s went out a million times, he imagined it like death, but this didn’t feel like death at all. This felt like..the birth of something new.

Then, suddenly,

“Lemme show you how it’s done, nerd.”

Izuku backs up and turns to hand Katsuki the bat but Izuku misinterpreted what he meant, because Katsuki turns him back around and comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders.

“Pick your arm up dummy, higher, angle it like this, you want to meet the ball at the same angle its coming at you.” Katsuki takes Izukus arm and imitates hitting the ball the way he wants him to, and then pushes Izuku forward again. Izuku is weirdly quiet, now.

“Try it like that. And don’t be pissed when it’s better than your way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”

*CRACK*

“…Fine. Don’t be rude about it, though. You’re still a know-it-all.”

Katsuki can’t contain his shit eating grin, and that feeling in his gut is back with a vengeance.

“There’s a reason for that, Zuku.”

Inko was delighted at the unexpected visit, flitting around to whip something up for the two and offering apologies for not having more ready for them both. In the end, they’d eaten curry for the second day in a row, but neither of them commented on it, happy to be in Inko’s company, happy to see Izuku happy. In the end they’d thanked Inko and ushered themselves off into Izuku’s bedroom for a while before they went back to UA.

Izuku was pulling All Might merch and knick knacks out of every corner of the room, handing them to Katsuki along with stories and “do you remembers” and Katsuki felt overwhelmed. The feeling in his stomach only grew the longer the day went on and he found it harder and harder to keep the stupid, easy grin off his face. He felt so happy it almost felt wrong.

“Ah! kacchan! Do you remember when we drew these!”

They were two sheets of paper, one, in big letters, labeled “KACCHAN”, punctuated by tiny explosions in between each letter, and the other, “IZUKU” written neatly, simply across the top of the page. Underneath each name was a drawing to match, the both of them drawn in crayon as heroes, in gear that hadn’t quite matched up with what they’d grown accustomed to.

Katsuki took the papers from Izuku and stared, and stared, and stared, and only snapped out of it when a single tear drop hit the page.

And then it happened again. He spoke without meaning to.

“I don’t want to go back to not being around you, Izuku. I-i don’t even care that we can’t spar anymore. I don’t care about that. I just-i just want to keep hanging out with you. I don’t care what what we do. I just-“ he was shaking, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d feared this conversation, so.. why did this feel like relief, too?

Katsuki just lets himself cry, tiny sniffs and sobs crawling their way into their atmosphere.

He looked up through wet lashes just in time to see Izuku launching himself into his arms, throwing him back into the bed burying his face into Katsuki’s neck, sobbing with all the intensity Katsuki felt in his soul.

“I want-i want to be with you too, Kachhan, for-forever. I just want-to-to be around you.”

Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku and lets the relief wash over him. Katsuki doesn’t know what compelled him to say it.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Izuku pulls back just enough to look into Katsuki’s eyes. His heart is hammering in his chest, stunned speechless, and as Izuku searches Katsuki’s face he feels the boys breathing become panicked, coming out in short puffs verging on hyperventilation. Katsuki barely opens his mouth to take it back, to unscare Izuku when Izuku seemingly realizes this and smashes their lips together in an effort to stop him.

It’s sudden, scared, mutual. Blissful.

It takes Katsuki all of two seconds to come back online and fit his hand into Izuku’s hair in an effort to keep him there, and returns the kiss in full. Izuku grunts out a little sound that seems pained but somehow matches that feeling in his own gut, swirling and verging on the side of too much too much too much

They break the kiss at the same time, leaping away from eachother and doubling over themselves, anxiously giggling against their will and breathing heavily. Izuku leaps to his feet and starts pacing, muttering all the while, energy buzzing within him with the same intensity as one-for-all and Katsku feels it seep into everything, feels his limbs buzz, heart racing, mind running a mile a minute and somehow not at all.

“Ahhaah, AHHH, Kacch-i love you, FUCK I love you, holy-sh-shit, holy shit, oh my god. kachhhANNNN OH MY GOD.”

Izuku’s yelling and Katsuki finally yanks himself out of his shock to speak up just in time for Izuku to run out of the room screaming.

“Hey-what the FUCK, IZUK-get back here!” And then he’s off the bed too and running out the door behind him, leaving a stunned and less confused than you’d think Inko sat on the couch.

Katsuki catches up to him already at the bus station, pacing circles around the bench, laughing and crying hysterically. He catches a glimpse of Katsuki right as he stalks up to him and grabs Izuku’s arm.

“Caught you.” He grins triumphantly, and so, so happy, and doesn’t even give Izuku the chance to respond before he captures the boys lips again. Relief.

#bkdk #bakudeku #bkdk fic #mha424 #bnha424 #this was stuck in my head #be blessed

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loves4ge · 1 month

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office hours

nanami kento x gn!reader

workplace romance

you had to give it to him, the man was dedicated. you don't think you've ever seen nanami kento not working. it was actually kind of disconcerting. made you want to almost invite him for happy hour. almost. you looked at your little office desk succulent, the small mug of markers and pencils, and a tiny picture of you and your little cat.

you thought it was quite plain, but compared to nanami's near-empty desk, it might as well be festive.

"did you send over the email yet?" that was nanami. he asked you politely, in a measured voice that was distant without being rude. you turn to face him, god, he looked good in that tie. your mind processed his question slowly, as you just stared at him.

"um, sorry- the email? what e- oh! yeah, i sent it. sorry, i'm feeling a bit scatterbrained, i suppose." you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. nanami would not be invited to your funeral. you'd die a second time if that happened.

"alright then." and that was it. the quota of your talking time with nanami today was up and you'd have to survive on that sentence to fuel your crush on him. the gravelly tone in which he said alright, you could almost imagine how he'd sound like when he would say sweetheart.

god, you sounded psychotic.

"i'm not a psycho. i'm not a psycho," you repeated in whispers, typing your keyboard with aggressive strokes.

the clock struck 12, and people started filing out of the office for lunch. you texted a friend to see if she could join you for lunch but fate likes to kick you at the worst times possible; she was going to lunch with her coworkers.

your coworkers were nice, but you'd rather not spend a minute more with them unless at gunpoint. even then, you'd probably weigh the pros and cons. you'd love to have lunch with nanami, but after he turned your first two invites down, you never really built up the courage to ask again.

you stood up, making sure you had your wallet on you. you glanced at nanami; he was still seated. pursing your lips, your fingers curled into a fist out of hesitation.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" you asked, an awkward smile painted onto your face. lord have mercy, your nerves were so visible, it was painful.

"i do." you immediately thought of another place where he could say that phrase, with you standing opposite him—you were psychotic.

"oh, well. guess you can't keep me company today, haha." you wanted to close your eyes out of sheer embarrassment. who says haha?

"that's not true. i could, if you wanted me to." your eyes shot towards him. suddenly, your mouth was dry.

"uh, well. so you'd like to have lunch with me?"

"yes, i'd love to." oh my god, he said love.

"you're sure?" he cracked a slight smile at that, and you were sure your heart was going to burst. in fact, there was 20% chance you were already dead and this was your reward for suffering through a lifetime of humiliations. you weren't sure if this was an appropriate time to pinch your arm to check.

"yes, i'm sure. you have any place in mind?"

nanami kento was going to kill gojo satoru for being the inconvenient piece of shit to ever live. not only did he have the most unserious "emergencies", he also had them at the worst possible times.

first, it was when his beautiful coworker, the one with a blue-potted succulent, invited him for lunch. nanami had noticed them when it was their first day at work, their desks being so close to each other and all. and who wouldn't notice them? nanami certainly had.

the second time nanami had to help with an emergency, it was when you invited him to dinner. this was three weeks after the first invite, so it was obvious that you had worked yourself to ask him. god, it killed him to turn you down.

"no plans for lunch today, huh?" he turned from his desk to look at you. this was a month after the dinner invite. he didn't have any plans for lunch today. he was behind on work, actually. he needed this lunch hour to catch up on things. besides, he had a big breakfast. he could always get something quick to eat at his desk from a convenience store.

"i do."

he was going to kill gojo satoru, right after he took you out for lunch.

#sage -> writes!#jjk #jjk fluff #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #gojo satoru #geto suguru #toji fushiguro #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #jujustu kaisen #jujustu nanami

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viriscribe · 9 months

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ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ - ᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ - ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ x ᴀғᴀʙ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - "ғᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇɴᴇss ɪs ᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ."

ᴋɪɴᴋs : ᴅᴏᴍ! ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ, sɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ, ғᴀᴄɪᴀʟs.

(ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ)

The position you found yourself in was downright pornographic.

“Pluh.. please, Johnny..” You could barely register your own words. You were stripped bare, kneeling on the mansion’s cold marble floor. Johnny was sitting across from you, leaning back comfortably in one of his many lavish chairs. He was fully clothed, still in his suit from the award show you’ve arrived home from.

“No way, babe. You made your choice, now it’s my turn to have some fun.” The actor spoke down to you, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. “Think you can just play the innocent princess around those showbiz bastards?”

You shook your head, unable to come up with a retort. Mere hours ago, Johnny was accepting an award for his latest movie. His first one fully written and directed by him, it was a huge event for your lover! As he was swept away by adoring fans and paparazzi alike, you wandered to get anywhere but there. The lights, the glamor, it was a lot.. to put it simply. These events weren’t that special to you, but for Johnny you’d sit through them all. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t come up with your own fun, though. As the sea of reporters and cameramen flashed away, you cozied up to Johnny. A normal thing, a cute pose to assert your status as a couple. The position was like this, you’d stand in front of Johnny, your fronts facing each other. You’d look over your shoulder and give the cameras a big smile, the works. This time, however.. you ‘accidentally’ place your leg between his. The perfect angle, not enough to send suspicion your way from any passing guests, but close enough for Johnny to feel your plush thighs right against his crotch. The silk fabric of your slip dress made it oh so easy to slide your leg back and forth, providing that sinful stimulation.

Johnny flashed his Hollywood smile, trying to keep his cool. “Damn..” A breathy plea left his lips. “You vixen, in front of the crowd..?” You could feel him stiffen through his pants. “Fucking wait until we get home.” He wrapped an arm around your waist, quick to pull your body flush with his. You swallowed hard, not sure if the right feeling was to be scared or satisfied with your little stunt.

That brings you back into the present, where your pussy is dangerously close to the chilly floor. Johnny knew what the temperature would do to you, but he also planned for your current brattiness. He made you kneel with your legs slightly spread, a hard position to hold for long. Sooner or later that cunt was going to meet the ground. Seeing you suffer in the meantime was a bonus.

“Please what?” He scoffed, “You didn’t give me a choice before you started rubbing on my dick.” The man pulled out his phone, taking a lewd shot of you. You tried to turn away, but it was no use.

“I just wanted to have some fun..” Your breathing was labored, you legs were beginning to shake. “You know how I feel about award shows..”

Johnny was quick to fire back. “And you know how I feel about disobedient sluts.”

Your mouth hung open, a tinge of pleasure sparking in your sex. Dominant Johnny Cage was something you’d never get over. As sweet, cocky, and secretly nerdy he was… the man was kinky. A pervert behind those sunglasses, but anyone could’ve guessed that.

“You have a choice.” He called out your name, his words dripping with desire. “We can go to bed now and talk about this in the morning.. Gods know how fucking tired I am.” A beat passes, and you almost don’t catch Johnny unzipping his fly. “Or, you can show me how sorry you are. Earn my forgiveness for that stunt.”

Even in his half asleep horny state, Johnny had the mind to give you an out. Fuck, you’re gonna marry this stupid guy. You decided to answer by looking up at Johnny with doe eyes, “I’ll do anything to be forgiven, sir.”

A throaty groan came from the man, and you knew you were in for it now. Your mind raced with the thought of your punishment. Was he going to make you kneel while he fucked your throat? Made to show the camera how much cum he can pump into your little mouth? Or was he going to take your over his knee, giving you spanks until your tears coated the floor along with your wetness. The possibilities were endless, and you were more than eager to please.

“Stay there, princess.” Johnny got up, leaving you to kneel in the living room. As he wandered off, you couldn’t help but feel exposed. Not because you were fully naked, but due to the huge outlook right onto the city. That fucker probably designed his mansion with that view in mind, and all the dirty things he could do with that in the background.

You struggled to keep the kneeling position, tempted to give yourself a break while your lover was gone. Though, maybe this was part of the game? He had cameras everywhere and you didn’t want to risk being caught disobeying again tonight.

Johnny’s footsteps alerted you to his presence, the predatory aura sending shivers down your spine. In his hands was a favorite of you both. A quite sizeable fantasy dildo, one you’ve taken many times. It was large from the tip to the base, only becoming wider the way down. You gulped upon laying eyes on it, getting a good idea of where this was going to go.

“H-Honey..” You shifted, your pussy dribbling right onto the tile.

Johnny quickly shushed you, not pleased that you were speaking without permission.

“Up.” He spoke and you obeyed. “You’re going to ride this cock until I know you’re truly sorry for what you did.” You nodded, turning your head to look for the bottle of lube that usually comes along with the toy.

“Oh, no.” Johnny laughed, “You’re not getting that luxury tonight. Plus..” He stepped forward, dragging a finger through your folds. “It looks like you’ve got enough down there already.” He couldn’t deny it, he was impressed. The effect he had on you was otherworldly, one the man would never take for granted. Johnny watched as your essence slowly ran down his finger.

“Mmph!” You startled as he suddenly shoved the coated finger in your mouth, making you taste yourself. Johnny bit his lip as you began to suck on his digit.

With a ‘pop’ he pulled back. The toy was then placed securely on the tile, a convenient suction cup keeping it in place.

“Go on.” The stage was set, Johnny was going to enjoy this. If you did a good job to please him, then maybe you’d get the privilege to as well. “Put on a show for me.”

You sunk to your knees once more, squatting over the sizable toy. You didn’t dare look up at your lover, you already knew the fucker was recording.

The tip of the dildo was thick, providing a sharp pleasure as you rubbed it along your cunt in an attempt to get some sort of lubrication. Your folds gave way to the toy, coating it in your slick. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the penetration. This was quite the task to do without a warm up, but it was your punishment after all. As the dick breached your cunt, you immediately cried out. It looked fucking massive in Johnny’s hands, now you can only imagine the view he was seeing. Your size difference was a massive turn on for the man, awakening the need to push you to your limits whenever he could.

“Look at that, it’s stretching you so nicely for me.” Johnny smirked at you, angling the camera to perfectly frame your stretching pussy.

Your vision blurred, the feeling of taking such a huge dick was heavenly. Pathetic half groans involuntarily slipped past your lips. Once the tip was inside, you paused before continuing your descent.

Johnny hummed, mocking your predicament. He had all the time in the world. Seeing you so willing to please him was intoxicating. You took the shaft of the toy with ease, whimpering as you neared the base. Your breathing was labored, your eyes blown wide with need. As your cunt hit the base, a wave of fullness washed over you. Being oh so full, stuffed with cock… it suited you. The feeling of being pushed to your limit and then some, it was addicting, to say the least. And that was just on the receiving end. Describing your lover as ‘turned on’ was a severe understatement. The whole time you were sliding down on the toy, Johnny was stroking himself. One hand holding the phone recording your debauchery and one sating himself.

“Ride it, bitch.” Johnny commanded, drunk with the authority he had over you.

You didn’t need another moment. Your hips began to move, grinding on the dildo. Every inch of your cunt was being rubbed by the silicone. A steady growing ball of pleasure began to build in your core. You let all of your inhibitions go, humping it like a slut. The pace you set for yourself was relentless, wanting to give Johnny the show he wanted. He made sure to zoom in on your breasts, their bounce only made your act more vulgar.

“Feel sorry yet?” He laughed at you, degrading you. “I want to hear it.”

You looked up at him, showing a hint of embarrassment. Johnny wasn’t going to let shit like that slide and you knew that. “Don’t act shy while you’re fucking yourself. Apologize to me as you fuck yourself.”

Who were you to deny him? You knew your place, humping the toy as your lover pleased himself mere inches away from your face. If you stuck your tongue out far enough, you could get a taste of his dick.

“I’m..” You began to bounce up and down the dildo, chasing your own orgasm. “I’m so sorry.. I’m sah..” Broken apologies fell from your lips, sad attempts at forming a sentence. “I’m so sorry, Johnny..!” Your legs twitched, you were close. Johnny knew this of course, but didn’t say anything. He was curious to see if you’d ask to cum, or risk further punishments.

“May..” Your walls clenched around the cock, barely letting it go to fuck yourself. “May.. I.” Johnny huffed, pretending to not understand your gibberish.

“May I please cum, Johnny!” Screams and moans errupted from your drooling mouth, “I’m so fucking sorry for what I’ve done, see! Please let me cum..”

With a single word, Johnny allowed you your precious release. You fell forward, holding onto his leg as you fucked yourself to completion. It was a display of pure love and submission, you had never felt more safe and more vulnerable as you were in this moment. The pleasure snapped like a tense wire, and you felt your orgasm flow from your cunt and onto the floor.

“The camera loves you, that’s it right there.” Johnny framed your face in the recording, catching your climax in real time. And if you humiliating yourself under him wasn’t enough, Johnny came as well. His cock shot ropes of semen all over your face, painting you for his final act of dominance.

You smiled at the camera, wiping some of his cum off your face. With a dazed chuckle, you licked your fingers clean, blowing a kiss to the camera before the recording ended.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚________________

“Babe.. do you really not like award shows?” Johnny held you steady against his bare body, massaging shampoo onto your scalp. His aftercare consisted of a nice shower, one where you’d never move a muscle. After this, he’d wrap you up in blankets and hold you close as you drifted asleep, or maybe put on a movie. It depended on how spent you were.

You shifted in his grasp, turning around to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Honestly, no. Though, I like you. I love you. Seeing my handsome boyfriend get recognized for his talent makes all of the screaming fans and flashing cameras worth it.”

“Hah.. you called me handsome.” Johnny hummed a tune while he finished cleaning you both up. Of course, that’s the part he heard.

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mk1 johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage #mortal kombat #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat fanfic

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flowerandblood · 7 months

Text

The Man with the Empty Heart

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, mention of the murder and suicide attempt, trauma, mourning, manipulation ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his 'ghosts', a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

That night she slept for only an hour, but experienced no rest during that time, tormented by nightmares. In her dream, a group of men rushed into her chamber, two of them holding her tightly as the third cut her throat − she choked, unable to catch her breath, her red blood gushing onto her nightgown and bedding.

When she finally opened her eyes she rose quickly to sit up, panting and shivering, all welted up, catching herself quickly by the throat, letting the air out of her lungs, feeling that there was no wound on it.

She sat at the table barely conscious when her morning meal was brought in, not even noticing that Vhagar was suddenly at her side, towering over her with his hands folded behind him.

"I hope you slept well, Princess." He said low, and she looked at him resentfully, knowing full well that he was mocking her. She turned her head away, reaching for a bread, not saying a word to him.

She thought he was a man who derived satisfaction from dominating and watching someone else's suffering.

He was perfectly suited to the job his father had assigned him, and he was certainly bored in her company, but he couldn't express it any other way.

He left her chamber as she ordered her servants to help her get dressed, looking at her reflection in the mirror with indifferent eyes, knowing what day it was and what she should do.

She visited her once every three days − the medics believed that more frequent visits would take her out of balance and increase her hysterical attacks.

When she stepped out into the corridor, walking ahead, she didn't look at him, but she knew he had moved immediately behind her − she felt his presence with all her being, his aura hung over her like a black storm cloud.

They made their way to a part of the fortress where servants and other court residents were not allowed to venture − two guards stood in front of the entrance leading to the stairs to the tower, but they did not stop her when she started to climb up, intense sunlight shone through the little windows.

The door to the small chamber was opened for her − she heard Vhagar stand still, having no intention of going inside. She stopped in mid-step, looking at him with furrowed brows.

"I want you to accompany me." She said in a disapproving voice, recognising that if he was going to tease and torment her with his behaviour, she would do the same.

He walked in behind her reluctantly and closed the door; her mother looked at her as if she didn't recognise her for a moment, and then smiled broadly, sleepily, bruises under her eyes − she was pale, her face unhealthily thin.

She seemed to weigh as much as a feather.

"My beloved child." She said softly, weakly, embracing her, and she reciprocated her grip, closing her eyelids, feeling a tightness in her throat at the thought that her father had locked her in a tower like some kind of animal.

It seemed to her that for her mother, Vhagar was indeed a ghost, for she sat with her on her bed holding her hand and looked only at her, as if she did not notice his presence at all.

"Why didn't Loras come with you? I can't even remember my little son's face anymore." She muttered in pain, and she lowered her gaze, not knowing how to explain to her that her father had decided that the future heir to the throne might be harmed by being with a mother who, in his understanding, had lost her sanity.

She swallowed loudly and tried to smile.

"He has more and more responsibilities as the future king, but he still speaks of you and has ordered to give you his warmest greetings and wishes for a quick recovery." She mumbled out with difficulty − her mother looked at her uncertainly, wrinkling her brow in disbelief.

"I am perfectly well." She spoke quieter and quieter, as if fading away in front of her − she squeezed her hand tighter not knowing how to reassure her, feeling the burning under her eyelids.

"I know, mother. I know." She said and smiled warmly, with concern − her mother smiled back at her too and only after a moment did her gaze escape to the side, her lips parted slightly in disbelief.

She turned over her shoulder wanting to see who she was looking at and swallowed loudly, stroking her skin with her thumb.

"It's Vhagar, mother. My guardian. He protects me and accompanies me everywhere." She said heavily, pretending she felt no terror looking at him, but she heard no reply, her mother looking at him with wide eyes, as if she had indeed seen a ghost.

"The gods are gracious." She said in a trembling voice, and she shook her head, not understanding what she was talking about.

"What?" She asked quietly, wanting her to repeat herself, to expand on the thought, but she was still looking at him, her dry lower lip trembling.

"You came for me like a death? Have you come to relieve my suffering at last?" She asked starting to shudder all over − she put her hands on her shoulders, stroking her reassuringly, thinking with horror that seeing his clothes and mask she imagined that he was indeed the personification of death.

"Mother, he is a guardian, he will not hurt you. He will protect us." She said soothingly to her, and she nodded quickly, as if to reassure her that she did indeed believe her words.

"Don't take her away. Have mercy on her and my son, they didn't know." She mumbled and she embraced her, stroking her hair.

"Mother, stop, please. Please." She mumbled out clenching her eyelids, feeling tear after tear run down her skin − only holding her in her arms did she find to her horror that all that was left of her was skin and bone.

"You need to rest, mother. You need to eat and rest. I'll bring you couple new books next time, all right?" She choked out wearily, and her mother nodded, saying no more.

When they got out of there she walked ahead for a while, feeling everything swirling around her, thinking only of the fact that it had all happened gradually, that at first her despair at what her father had done, at the extent of this massacre, seemed to everyone a natural reaction to what had happened.

However, then her mother began to hear strange noises, to speak of a secret passage through which ghosts passed, of hearing a child crying inside her chamber.

She stopped, gripping a pillar with her hand, seeing darkness in front of her eyes for a moment, breathing loudly, feeling the weight of it all crush her more and more.

She felt his gaze on her, his presence, his silence.

"Kill me." She said quietly, but she was sure he heard it, not a living soul around them.

Silence.

"Please, kill me." She whispered again, pressing her forehead against the cold stone pillar, closing her eyes, waiting for the sound of his footsteps, for the dagger to cut her throat.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes, as if suddenly regaining consciousness, and let out a loud breath, moving ahead again, his footsteps behind her echoing around them.

She spent the rest of the day in the library, trying to read but unable to concentrate, looking out of the window at the people walking around the castle courtyard, guards, merchants and servants speaking amongst themselves.

That same evening, as she sat alone in her chamber, sitting by the fireplace, gazing into the flames, Vhagar came in and walked up to her, keeping an appropriate distance.

"The King wishes to dine with you, Princess. Alone."

She lifted her gaze to him, sensing that there was something definitive in his words, and furrowed her brow, feeling uneasy.

Alone?

Why?

She swallowed loudly and nodded, getting up to leave − she heard him move behind her but he did not enter with her into the chamber where the King was staying, allowing the door to close behind her with a loud clatter.

She walked closer to the table behind which her father was sitting − he was eating without waiting for her and nodded for her to sit opposite him. She obeyed his command but did not put anything on her plate, looking at him expectantly.

"What's the matter, Father?"

"I heard you visited your mother again." He said indifferently, sipping the piece of bread he had just chewed with wine from his golden, ruby-decorated chalice.

She pressed her lips together feeling an unpleasant discomfort in her stomach and a cold sweat on her back at the thought of Vhagar telling him what had happened.

"Yes." She replied coolly, lifting her gaze to him, trying to calm her breathing, her heart pounding like mad. Her father murmured under his breath, reaching for a grape, which he tossed into his mouth with a light movement and bite through it with a loud crunch.

"I have moved her to another chamber. She has a bad effect on you, reminding you constantly of these... unpleasant events." He said lowly reaching for another grape − she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen as if she was about to vomit, her lips parted in disbelief.

"What? Where?" She asked unable to hide the tremor in her voice in which lurked growing terror and panic, her father lifting his gaze to her.

"Her fate is no longer your concern." He said in a firm, impatient voice.

She got up quickly and ran out of his chamber with a loud slam of the door, moving swiftly ahead down the dark corridor, choking on her own tears, unable to catch her breath, seeing that there was no one in the passage where the guards still stood in the morning.

She ran quickly up the stairs hearing loud footsteps behind her, stumbling and almost falling, bursting into her mother's chamber, which was now completely empty.

She clutched her stomach, leaning against the cold wall with her hand, and she sobbed loudly, slipping slowly down. She approached her bed and laid her head on the sheets where she and her had been sitting just a few hours ago.

She heard him stop in front of the door, heard his accelerated breathing, knew he was staring at her. She looked at him with hatred, rising slowly and grabbed the candlestick that stood on the table in her hand, swinging, wanting to smite him.

"You fucking bastard!" She growled in fury as she wrestled with him, his black-gloved hands squeezed her firmly by her wrists, easily blocking any of her movements.

"− tell me where she is − please −" She muttered pleadingly, feeling her rage turn to desperation, the candlestick fell from her hand with a loud thud of steel against the stone floor, his bright eye staring at her mercilessly.

"− please − please, Vhagar, I don't want her to be alone −" She mumbled in pain, tightening her fingers on his long leather coat, staring into his cold, emotionless mask, hearing only his quiet breathing.

"It's too late."

She looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head, struggling to catch her breath.

"− what do you mean? −" She asked in a trembling voice, hearing only the loud pounding of her heart.

"She didn't suffer."

She clenched her fingers on his shoulders so tightly that she felt as if they would pierce through the material of his coat into his flesh, an unnaturally high-pitched whine of despair erupted from her throat, she pressed her forehead against his chest.

"− gods, what have you done? −" She mumbled in horror, looking up at him, breathing with difficulty, everything around her was spinning. "− Vhagar, what have you done to her? −"

"It was your father's order."

His grip on her wrist eased; he didn't move from his position or push her away − he simply stood like a statue, waiting for her to calm down. She felt her body begin to spill into his hands, numb and soft, that she was losing consciousness, his arms caught her tightly before she fell to the stone floor.

When she woke up all around her was complete darkness. She thought with relief that it was just a dream, like the nightmares she experienced in the morning. When she looked around she noticed that she was back in her chamber, in her bed.

She turned her head sideways and froze, noticing a seated figure in a black mask on one of the chairs beside her bed − he was sitting with his legs crossed, looking straight at her, his left hand resting on the table top, his finger tapping it gently without making a sound.

She felt a tear of helplessness run down her face onto the pillow under her head, her lips parted at the realisation that it was all true.

Why had he stayed?

Was her father afraid she would commit suicide?

"You were supposed to protect her." She said in a trembling, weak, quiet voice full of remorse. He was silent for a long moment.

"I did."

She furrowed her eyebrows at his words, feeling her lower lip begin to tremble. She swallowed hard with a shake of her head.

"I showed her mercy. Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life. I gave her poison, after which she just fell asleep, although he suggested hanging. He thought it would look more...natural."

She stared at him for a moment and then closed her eyes, pressing her lips together, twisting onto her side and curling up like a small child, huddling into the furs that lay beside her, feeling her whole body twitching.

Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life.

He suggested hanging.

He thought it would look more natural.

"When will it be made official?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he hummed under his breath, turning his face to the side.

"Tomorrow morning the King will convene a gathering and announce the sorrowful news." He said indifferently. She swallowed loudly and closed her eyes.

"Do you still have that poison?"

She heard him move restlessly in his seat, felt him hesitate for a second.

"…yes."

She opened her eyelids, extending her trembling hand towards him.

"Have mercy on me too." She said in a pleading, tender voice.

He stared at her for a long moment, and then stood up slowly with a loud creak of wood, walking over to her, pulling a small vial of clear liquid from his pocket.

He handed it to her and she rose to sit down, feeling her whole body quiver, her breath hitched, her heart pounding like mad.

She wanted silence to finally resound in her mind.

She wanted her heart to stop aching.

She wanted to stop being afraid.

She looked at him with huge eyes, swallowing loudly.

"Is it going to be painful?" She asked in a trembling voice − he stood looking at her, she could see his iris shining in the moonlight that fell outside the window.

"No. You'll just fall asleep." He explained softly, his voice surprisingly calm. She nodded, feeling relieved at the thought and unscrewed the cork, looking at the liquid contents inside and lifted it quickly to her lips, pouring its contents down her throat.

She looked up at him, horrified at what she had done, thinking about how a part of her wanted to take it back, how she didn't want to die, but that it was too late.

It was already decided and nothing could be done.

She laid her head on her pillow feeling the tears of helplessness run down her cheeks − she looked at him pleadingly, her lips trembling.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked quietly, placing her hands on her stomach, not wanting to be alone now, not wanting to walk away inside an empty, dark room.

"Yes."

She closed her eyes, feeling with pain that her head began to hum, her eyelids growing heavier and heavier, slowly beginning to lose consciousness until she fell into a deep, pleasant sleep.

She shuddered as she felt someone force her mouth open and pour something forcefully down her throat − she began to cough loudly, her body went into convulsions, her stomach clenched tightly. She felt someone lift her up to sit and hold her as she began to vomit, heard his voice near her ear.

"Come on, you have to get it out of your body. Yes, there we go." She heard his low whisper as she vomited again into the bowl he held in front of her. She was panting loudly drenched in tears, her whole body shivering as if in a fever, her stomach clenched so tightly she felt like screaming in pain.

"One more time. Very good. Just like that." He hummed and helped her lie on her side so that she didn't choke. She was breathing unevenly, trembling, felt his hand take her hair from her face and was only able to think that he pulled off his gloves.

She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep again, waking only to vomit again, each time he sat in the same place, his hand on her back.

She had the feeling that it was all just a figment of her imagination.

That it wasn't really happening.

In the morning she had the feeling that what she felt was the opposite of a painless death − her body welted from the fever, all sweaty, her heart had slowed down, everything around her seemed hazy to her.

She heard someone rise from a chair, heard someone's slow footsteps, his figure stood above her like a great, tall black smudge.

"Why?" She asked quietly, struggling to keep her eyelids from closing.

A long silence answered her before she heard his low, deep voice.

"I changed my mind."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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eddies-house · 1 year

Text

Just a little blurb, Eddie has a hard time crying, you’re able to help him let go.

1.7K Words

TW - allusions to previous abuse, Eddie is emotional

Eddie having a hard time crying EVER unless he knows he’s fully isolated and even then he tries to hold back as much as possible. His childhood didn’t leave him much room to learn that it’s okay to show emotions other than anger so he grew up with the understanding that crying was either going to get him beat or put in a timeout outside for hours which didn’t leave him any choice but to suck it up and move on.

When he meets you, you talk about how having a good cry every now and then is so refreshing or if things are falling apart that you always feel better letting everything out and you even feel you can think clearer after. He doesn’t get it because crying now elicits a fear deep inside of him so he can’t imagine crying to make himself feel better. How could that make him feel better if all he knew were the repercussions after, not clarity like you tell him? It was always a casual conversation, just telling each other how you blow off steam. His way was to smoke his way into oblivion, granted this didn’t provide any clarity after and only temporarily numbed his pain or whatever was bothering him.

So one day he’s having a particularly hard time, nothing is going his way, his van gave out on him in the parking lot at work when all he wanted was to go home which meant he stayed hours after just to fix it and get it running again. Every event from morning to evening was working against him. You’d already been laying in his bed since he called earlier and said he was going to be late apologetically and the strain in his voice only gave away that he was struggling internally. It was something you came to recognize, his voice would get all tight and caught in the back of his throat and his breathing would get heavy whenever the day took an extra large toll on him. You gathered that there was an urge to cry but he always held back and though he never talked about it in very much depth, you had an idea it was something ingrained into him from childhood and it only broke your heart more. Either way, you lovingly said you’d be waiting for him at home even though he told you to go to sleep.

The sudden creak of the trailer door and the sound of it closing with the click of the lock had you jolting up in bed, ready to greet Eddie and provide him as much comfort as possible. Except before you were even able to step onto the carpet below, the bathroom door was shut and locked and sure enough, as you stepped out into the hallway, the only possible outcome was that Eddie had locked himself in the bathroom. You heard some shuffling around and then silence, not one sound. It stays like that for about fifteen minutes and now you’re starting to worry.

Quietly approaching the door, the light from inside is peeking through the bottom and finally you hear a sigh. It’s almost inaudible but you catch it. Knocking on the door, there is no response even when you call for him. “Eddie?” Nothing. “Eddie, you okay? You’ve been in there for a while.” Still nothing. Luck was on your side tonight since when you reached for the door handle you found that it wasn’t locked and the door began to open. A little thump is heard as it pushes against Eddie’s thigh, his position curled up with his knees to his chest and his head hung low. “Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you with the door.” You apologize while slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. “It’s okay.” He whispers. “Are you okay?” You ask, still standing over him, unable to read his face. He just nods. You’re not sure why you even asked, he would always lie just so he could suffer alone.

Crouching down in front of him, you try to get a glimpse of his face, try to gauge what might be going on. You gently reach out and tilt his chin up, and he lets you, only to find his big sad eyes. They’re wet but there are no tears shed and he’s biting his lip anxiously, one of his many habits. “What’s going on?” Your tone is soft, an attempt to let him know that you aren’t going to judge him should those tears pooling in his eyes fall. He responds by shaking his head, his stare now glued to the bathroom floor. “Baby, talk to me.” You whisper, cupping his jaw.

It’s not necessarily a flinch in a reaction to you but he quickly moves his face out of your grasp to look up at the ceiling and you can gather that he’s trying to get rid of his tears, sniffling them back. “Eddie, you can cry, you know that right?” He just continues to shake his head, fighting a losing battle with himself. “No.” His voice cracks, still fixed on the ceiling. “I can’t.” He sounds so small, so fragile as his knuckles turn white, gripping his knees. “I can’t.” He says a final time, weak.

You’re quick to move closer to him, situating yourself in front of him to again take his face gently in your hands, his hands grabbing at your forearms as if to warn you to stay away. “Eddie, stop.” You’re stern but kind, you know what he needs and he can’t keep denying himself. “No.” His grip tightens on you but not by much, just enough to show you how much anxiety is coursing through him. Your thumbs graze over his cheeks, admiring his every feature, even his eyelashes that are wet. There’s a fear in his eyes, from what you’re not sure but it’s definitely present, you’re beginning to conclude that the thought of crying ignited some kind of fear and you don’t even need to put all the pieces together to understand that he believes there are consequences of some kind if he allows it to happen. “Hey, listen to me.” You keep your voice hushed as if you could scare him off at any moment. His gaze is fixed on you, almost concentrated in a way that he’s trying to work out an escape. “Nothing bad is gonna happen. I promise. You can cry. I’m not gonna do anything, no one is gonna do anything, okay?” Somehow the words reach him, you know this by the way he softens, by the way his grip on your arms loosens and his body slightly relaxes. He doesn’t fully give in but it’s a start. “Rough day?” You ask, tucking a curl behind his ear, now trying to coax him into a comfort zone.

He doesn’t know why those two words release the waterworks but they do and suddenly hot tears are spilling down his cheeks despite his inner protests. He’s shaking his head as if to take it all back but you’re already pulling him toward you, cradling his head to your chest. Sobs escape him and he’s suddenly just full on bawling in your arms, a major contrast to earlier. It’s as if something snapped in him that made him release every emotion he was feeling at the moment and it was evident as the tears soaked your shirt. He now gripped at the sleeves of your t shirt, his body shaking and you feel so helpless but you know this is what he needs, to just cry without worry and to realize that he’s safe doing so.

“I know, let it out.” You tell him while running a hand up and down his back, his sobs only increasing intensity at your words. “There you go, let everything go.” He’s never felt so secure while falling apart. It goes on for at least ten more minutes. Ten more minutes of emotions being released from his deepest depths that have never surfaced before. After that he begins to slowly calm down, hiccups escaping him while his breathing stutters and he wipes his remaining tears on his own shirt. The ashamed expression he wears conveys that you will need to work on this with him but it’s still a giant step which only makes you proud. You let him take the initiative from here, let him decide if he wants to talk or if he wants to simply leave it because there is no wrong choice, just one that makes him more comfortable.

Several minutes go by as he regulates his breathing and avoids your eyes, the two of you just sitting on the bathroom floor in the warm lighting. What he says—rather croaks out only shatters you more. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” That simply won’t do so you gather his hands in yours and press a kiss to his damp cheek, being as delicate as possible. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Eddie. Nothing at all. I’m glad I could be here with you.” You squeeze his hands to punctuate, wanting him to understand how serious you are, how truthful your words are. “We can talk if you want.” You continue quietly, pushing his bangs out of his eyes, a slight hint of anxiety traveling through him as his gaze darts around the small room. “Or we don’t have to talk at all. Whatever you want. But either way I’m right here.” You remind him, offering a soft smile while looking into his big doe eyes. “Not going anywhere, okay?” He wants to cry again, god does he want to just burst out in tears again but this time it’s out of thankfulness that he feels safe enough to let spill down his cheeks. And so he does. He cries again while pressing his forehead to yours, letting you see him, raw and unfiltered. “Thank you.” He whispers, nose nudging against yours, one of his tears escaping the tip of his and onto your lip and you don’t budge, maybe even shedding a few yourself.

You may not comprehend the impact you had on him that night but it meant more to him than anything and though he still struggles with letting you see him at his lowest points, emotionally bruised and broken down, he’s forever grateful for you and your compassion. No one has ever been so gentle with him but he figures it’s something he could get used to.

~end~

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 1 year

Text

Migraine

Summary: Whilst on set you suffer from a bad migraine but try to hide it, not wanting to stop filming. Pedro eventually catches on and looks after you.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: language

A/N: This is literally just a comfort fic that I wrote on my phone while lying in bed with a bad headache. I get chronic migraines and it sucks and wish I had someone like Pedro there to help me, so I wrote it.

Also I wanted an excuse to write something with Pedro in his Mando suit, so here it is.

It had been a long day, between meetings in the morning and filming in the afternoon, it was safe to say that you and Pedro were exhausted. But the crew still had more scenes to be shot in this location and only today to do it.

The headache that was pulsing through your skull had started around midday and had only gotten worse, despite taking probably too many pain killers than recommended on the packet.

You knew normal pain killers weren't going to fix it. You had suffered from enough migraines to know which ones would be cured by painkillers and which ones would stick around for 24 hours regardless, and this was the latter.

"Cut"! The directors voice boomed across set.

You sighed, "sorry. That was my line next, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Yes, it was." The director responded from behind the camera for probably the seventh time in the past hour. "Start back from when Mando walks into the room."

Pedro nodded from where he was standing on his mark in the middle of the room, but instead of walking out the door to redo the scene, he walked over to you. His helmet was still on, but you could feel his soft brown eyes looking at you from behind the black visor.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, still in his Mando voice.

"Yeah."

His helmet tilted to the side a little as he stared at you, and you knew he didn't believe you.

"It doesn't usually take you this many shots to get a scene right." He teased, trying to lighten the mood as if he could tell that something was wrong.

The two of you always teased and made fun of each other. After working together for Seasons 1 and 2 of The Mandalorian and in those few episodes of The Book of Boba Fett, and now filming season 3, you had grown close, sometimes annoyingly close if you ask the crew around you. The two of you were always getting in trouble for laughing too much on set, but neither of you ever listened.

"I'm sorry." You replied, not feeling up to teasing him back.

Usually, you'd come back with some witty or sarcastic comment, but right now, you didn't have the energy for it. Not when it felt like there was a drill constantly digging into the side of your skull.

"Hey, no, no, it's okay." Pedro quickly reassured, stepping forward and grabbing your shoulder gently. "I was just teasing. Don't worry about it."

His voice had turned from playful to concerned within a split second and you were grateful that he was still wearing the helmet because you didn't want to see his beautiful brown eyes looking at you worriedly. You were fine, it was just a headache. It's not like you didn't have one a few days ago anyway, you were used to it. You were fine to keep filming then and you were fine now.

"You guys ready to go again?" The director called out impatiently.

Pedro's helmet turned in the direction of the director, but he didn't say anything before he looked back over at you, waiting for you to give him the go ahead.

"I'm good. Let's do this scene."

He hesitated for a moment like he wanted to push this topic, but he simply nodded and went over to his mark to start the scene again.

To your relief and the relief of the director, you managed to get through the next scene without any major screw ups. The next couple of hours went by in a blur. You had shot a bunch of different scenes, but you could barely remember which ones you had just done. Katee Sackhoff had showed up at one point to do a few scenes as Bo-Katan with you and Pedro, but left after her scenes were finished, leaving you and Pedro to film your last scene of the day together.

The scene that you had been dreading ever since you felt the headache coming on.

A fight scene.

"Just like you guys did in rehearsals, okay? Take it from the top." The director instructed.

"Are we starting with Y/N holding the blaster to my head?" Pedro asked, looking over at the crew behind the cameras who all nodded.

Pedro walked over to his mark just as an assistant placed a foam mat on the floor for him to kneel down on. Once he was on his knees, you drew your blaster from the leather holster on your thigh before pressing the barrel of the prop to the side of his helmet. You closed your eyes for a moment, fighting off the dizziness. Trying, even through the pain, to remember what the steps were for this fight sequence.

"You okay?" Pedro's voice suddenly asked.

You blinked your eyes open to find the black visor of his helmet tilted up towards you, and you nodded which turned out to be a bad idea because that small movement made your headache flare.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was more of a grimace than anything. But before Pedro had a chance to comment on it, the director shouted action.

A switch flipped inside of you. The pounding headache momentarily forgotten as you shifted into character like you had done hundreds of times before. Your expression hardened, glaring down at the Mandalorian below you, finger resting on the trigger of your blaster.

"It's over Din Djarin. We have you ten to one." You said, glancing around your empty surroundings where your Troopers will be added in with special effects in post-production.

A beat of silence past between you before Pedro's gruff Mandalorian voice responded.

"I like those odds."

He suddenly shot his arm out to the side, his hand forming a fist and your eyes widened in shock, pretending to see his 'whistling birds' missiles shooting from his wrist and killing the Troopers around you.

"No!" You screamed, looking back down at the Mandalorian just as he hit your arm, knocking the blaster from your grasp.

Mando jumped to his feet in an instant and you hastily pulled out the knife from the back of your waistband and swung the prop at him, the foam blade slicing along the beskar armour on his chest.

You took a step back as Mando marched forward and you swung the blade again, but he blocked it with the armour on his forearm.

"Moff Gideon is controlling you." Mando grunted, blocking your next attack. "You have to fight it. I don't want to hurt you."

"Then you will die." You spat, swinging the blade again, but this time Mando grabbed your wrist and squeezed. Pedro didn't actually squeeze it tightly, but made it look like he was, and you fake winced before the knife slipped from your fingers.

Mando suddenly spun you around until your back was flush against his armoured chest, his forearm wrapped around your neck in a chokehold. Your vision blurred momentarily from the sudden movement, your ears ringing a little as Pedro said his next line, but you barely heard him.

The rhythm of blood throbbed in your temple reminding you of the migraine that you had been trying very hard to ignore. But as the minutes ticked by, it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

"You have to fight his control." Mando's voice said, breaking through the ringing in your ears.

"No. I have to fight you." You growled, throwing your elbow up as Pedro flung his head back at the right moment, making it look like you had hit him hard in the helmet.

His arm loosened around you and for a moment, you found yourself missing the close contact. It was nice being held against his body, wait, no. You buried that thought deep down in a box in the back of your mind because where the fuck did that come from?

You switched back into action and slipped out his chokehold with ease, but Mando was already advancing on you. He swung his gloved covered fist towards you which you easily ducked before he tried to punch you again. You were meant to dodge both fists before he would draw his blaster. You and Pedro had done this too many times to count during rehearsals and training, you knew there was a second punch to duck from.

If only your head would stop pounding because you were so focused on the pain that you completely forgot to duck to the left and the next thing you knew, Pedro's fist collided with your jaw.

A collective gasp came from the crew behind the cameras, but it was Pedro's shaky sharp intake of air that caught your attention.

The hit itself wasn't that hard. Pedro must have realised that you weren't going to duck in time and pulled his punch a little because you knew he could punch harder than that. It had happened once back in Season 1 by accident, and this was nowhere near as hard. Your jaw didn't even hurt, but the hit made the thumping pain of your head worsen as you tried to blink away your dizziness.

He was in front of you in an instant, yanking off his helmet and tossing it to the ground without a care. In the distance you heard one of the crew telling him to be careful with the costume, but Pedro didn't acknowledge them, his panicked brown eyes focused on you, and you only.

"Oh my God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't... shit, Y/N. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" He frantically questioned.

The world around you was spinning and you weren't sure if you were going to pass out or throw up, but yeah, you were okay, you had to be.

"I-I..." You began to say, about to reassure him that you were fine, but then black dots started to cloud your vision.

You stumbled back a step, but Pedro quickly grabbed your shoulders to steady you.

"Whoa, easy. Just sit down for a sec."

You didn't try and argue, not sure if you could even if you wanted to as Pedro slowly lowered you to the ground. He knelt in front of you, those worried brown eyes searching your face for some kind of reassurance that you were okay, but you couldn't give that to him. Not yet.

You rested your head in your hands and began to rub your temples, trying to sooth the sharp pulses of pain searing through your head.

"Can we get some help here!" Pedro shouted over his shoulder in the general direction of the crew.

"No, no, it's fine. I-I'm fine." You winced, lifting your head to meet Pedro's worried eyes.

"I just punched you and you nearly fainted. That is not fine." He responded, his voice laced with so much guilt it made your heart break.

"It wasn't you. The hit wasn't hard. You pulled it back, right?"

He nodded, "well, yeah. But it clearly still hurt you-"

"It didn't, but I've had a migraine all day and it just kinda aggravated it. It's fine. Just... just give me a minute and we can redo the scene." You reassured, rubbing your face with your hands as the dizziness slowly began to fade.

Pedro's eyes widened, "fuck, you've had a migraine all day? We aren't going to redo the scene, you are going to rest in your trailer."

"Pedro-" You began to protest, but he cut you off.

"This scene is not as important as your health, sweetheart."

Your heart swelled at the last word. Pedro had gotten into the habit of calling you that recently, it sort of came out of nowhere, but it stuck and you weren't complaining.

"Okay." You agreed because you did not have the energy to argue with him.

"Is she good to start the scene again? You guys can have a five-minute break if needed." One of the directors called out.

Pedro sighed, "I'll be back."

You nodded, but winced at the pain that movement caused and made a mental note to stop doing that before you watched Pedro stand up and walk across set towards the crew behind the cameras.

He was speaking with them quietly, but you couldn't hear what he was saying, although whatever it was, the director clearly did not like it if the frustrated expression on his face was anything to go by.

"Jamie, go and grab some pain killers from the first aid kit. They'll kick in within 30 minutes and then she'll be fine to do the scene." You heard the director say to one of the assistants.

"No. We're done shooting for the day." Pedro stated sternly before he turned and began to walk back towards you.

"We only have this location booked for today. It's your job to act. That is why you two are here. We have to finish the scene-"

Pedro stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping in the director's direction so fast you feared he had given himself whiplash from the movement.

"Pedro, it's okay." You called out, slowly getting to your feet and silently relieved that the room didn't start immediately spinning when you stood up. "I can keep going."

"No." He said, shaking his head and walking back over to you, grabbing your arm as if he was scared that you would pass out on him or something which, yeah, okay that fear was warranted. Passing out was still a possible outcome at the moment.

"But the location-"

"You guys will figure something out." Pedro's stylist, Coco, suddenly called out, glaring at the director before glancing over at Pedro. "You okay with her?"

"Yeah, I got her. Can you bring some painkillers to her trailer?" Pedro asked and Coco nodded before he began to walk you out of set in the direction of the trailers out the back.

The sun was setting along the horizon, painting the sky various shades of pinks and oranges, but you squinted at the brightness unable to enjoy the beautiful view because looking in that direction simply hurt too much.

Pedro led you to your trailer, holding the door open as you stepped inside and instantly flicked the light switch that you left on and turned it off, trying to reduce the brightness. Pedro seemed to catch on because before you could say anything, he was walking around your trailer and closing all the blinds covering the windows for you to reduce the light.

"What can I do? Coco will bring some painkillers. Is there anything else you need?" He asked softly, seeming to realise that loud noises probably weren't good for migraines either.

You opened your mouth to tell him that you were fine, but then the nausea that you had been fighting earlier suddenly came back.

"Stay here." You managed to say before you rushed across the trailer into your bathroom, only just managing to kick the door shut behind you before you dropped to your knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

Your head pulsed in pain as the little food that you had eaten today came back up. This was always the part you hated the most about migraines. Sometimes you didn't throw up, sometimes you did, and you could never figure out why.

Your stomach heaved as you continued to throw up, when suddenly the door behind you opened and a second later, Pedro was grabbing your hair and pulling it out the way.

"Don't. It's gross." You mumbled.

"I don't care." Pedro's gentle voice responded.

You flushed the toilet to try and get rid of the horrible smell, knowing if you could smell it, then Pedro definitely could. But you didn't dare get up and leave yet, unsure if your body was done throwing up or not.

You leant your elbow against the porcelain edge of the toilet and held your aching head in your hands while Pedro remained silent behind you, holding your hair and rubbing soothing circles over your back.

After a few minutes, you deemed it safe to leave the bathroom and slowly stood up, Pedro quickly grabbing your arm to help.

"I'm not helpless." You sighed, glancing over at him.

"Just let me take care of you."

"You shouldn't have to take care of me."

He smiled softly, "I know, but I want to."

Your heart fluttered a little, but didn't get a chance to respond before there was a gentle knock on your trailer door. Pedro led you over to the couch and you sat down wordlessly before he opened the door.

"I got aspirin and Advil. I wasn't sure which type she wanted." Coco's voice said from outside. "I also convinced the director to give you guys the rest of the week off."

How the hell did she manage to do that? The last time you tried to ask for a weekend off, they shot you down straight away.

"You're the best." Pedro sighed with relief, taking the painkillers from her.

"I know. Don't ever forget it." Coco replied causing Pedro to chuckle softly as he waved goodbye before closing the door.

He walked over to your small kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before he returned to your side, handing you the water before holding out the two different types of painkillers.

"You probably heard, but we got the week off now." Pedro informed as you took one of the bottles, not having the heart to tell him that painkillers won't fix your migraine.

"Thanks." You replied, swallowing down the pills with water.

You shifted one of the pillows to the end of the couch before you kicked off your boots and laid down, trying to ignore the thumping in your head.

Pedro watched you silently, but his brows furrowed a little before he looked over at the wall of your trailer like he was stopping himself from saying something. You had known Pedro for long enough to know that he felt guilty. The way his shoulders were slightly slumped and how he kept fidgeting with his fingers by his side, let alone the guilt washing over those beautiful brown eyes whenever he looked at you.

"Hey, it's not your fault." You whispered, but he just kept staring at the wall. "Look at me. P, look at me."

He sighed, but glanced down at you anyway. His soft chocolate eyes meeting yours sadly, "I punched you, Y/N."

"It wasn't hard."

"It was still a punch."

"Dude, you punched me harder back in season 1. That one left a bruise. But this?" You said, motioning towards your jaw. "Doesn't hurt."

"That doesn't make me feel better. I still punched you."

"Yeah, so? I threw us both off that speeder bike back in season 2. You have nothing to feel bad about." You reminded him and Pedro's face cracked into a small smile which you were calling a victory.

"That was a good day." He chuckled.

"I spent the rest of that day plucking sand out from between my boobs and ass, man. That was not a good day." You pointed out, but that just made Pedro laugh even more and you smiled.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence for a while thinking of that day on set. You lied, it was a good day. Just you and Pedro sharing a speeder bike that the prop team had designed and engineered to actually work. It was awesome, and the best thing was, Mando was injured and had to hold onto you while you drove it.

Nearly 12 hours of Pedro with his arms wrapped around your stomach from behind. It was a long day, but it was great. Even after you crashed the bike, the two of you still had fun.

You must have fallen asleep at some point without meaning to because when you opened your eyes, you realised that there was a blanket now draped over your body that definitely wasn't there earlier.

How long had you been asleep for?

You looked around your trailer in confusion trying to find your phone to check the time before you spotted Pedro sitting on the chair across the room reading some kind of book.

He was no longer in his Mandalorian costume. The beskar armour now replaced with his yellow vintage Lakers shirt and grey sweatpants.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep." You said, speaking up to try and stop yourself from thinking about those damn grey sweatpants.

Pedro practically jumped out of his skin, not expecting you to be awake as his wide eyes shot over to you in surprise. "You're awake. How do you feel?" He asked, concern written all over his face.

Your head was still aching, but the sharp pulsing in your skull had gotten a little better, so that was a win.

"A bit better." You answered honestly.

"Good. Good." He nodded, seeming relieved with that news. "Why didn't you tell me that you had a migraine?"

"I didn't want you to worry. It's no big deal, I get chronic headaches anyway. I'm used to it."

"I never knew that." He whispered in shock. "How long have you had them for?"

You shrugged, "ever since I was a kid."

"Shit, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. What are you reading?" You asked, changing the topic.

If Pedro noticed your quick change of topic, he didn't point it out. Instead, he looked down at the book in his lap with a small smile.

"It's The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann."

"What's it about?" You asked curiously.

He flicked through the pages and chuckled to himself before looking over at you. "It's basically a 706-page book about, uh, death."

You laughed, but that laugh turned into a wince when pain in your head flashed hard and hot. "Don't make me laugh."

Pedro's expression softened, "sorry. I can't help it. I'm just a naturally funny guy."

"More like naturally annoying." You shot back.

"Ouch." He gasped, resting his hand over his heart dramatically. "You, my dear, wound me."

You rolled your eyes at his antics before you sat up, wrapping the blanket around your body tightly as you looked around, still trying to figure out what time it was.

"It's about seven-ish. Do you think you can eat something? Coco offered to drop off takeaway if we wanted." Pedro suddenly said, like he could somehow read your mind.

"I'd like that."

"Great. I'll call her now." He beamed happily. "What do you feel like?"

"Whatever you want. I don't mind."

He sighed, expecting that answer after knowing you for so long. You could never choose where to eat, and he knew that, despite his best efforts over the years to make you choose.

"Five Guys? They do a really good strawberry milkshake." He suggested instead of trying to force you to pick something.

"I would love you if you got me a strawberry milkshake."

"You love me anyway." He teased, bookmarking his novel before pulling out his phone from his pocket.

"Yeah, I do." You replied honestly.

He would never know how true those words actually were though, but that was okay. There was no way you'd admit your feelings to him. You'd rather have Pedro as your best friend than risk losing him forever.

His beautiful brown eyes locked with yours across the room when he mentioned two large strawberry milkshakes over the phone. He smiled brightly at you, and you couldn't stop yourself from smiling back at him, soaking up the moment not wanting it to end.

THE END.

MASTERLIST pinned to profile.

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries❤️

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #the mandalorian

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yoyoyokii · 27 days

Text

It all ended too soon

Law x Reader. sadness... 💔

doing this instead of an essay? maybe.

A CLASSIC LAW ANGSTISH MOMENT UHM I CANT WRITE HAPPY ENDINGS SORRY SO UHM... I wasn't even gonna do a decent ending but i got told off for making it too brutal so...

ENJOY (maybe)

1.9k words tyvm 😤

༺｡° .ᘛ𓆩♡𓆪ᘚ. ° ｡༻

You can’t sleep again. It’s 5am now, or so you can assume by a quiet rustling in the kitchen, signalling that Sanji must be awake. You haven’t properly slept for over a week now and it’s given you enough time to memorise the entire crew's routines. Sanji is the first to wake up at 5, Brook also wakes up at this time but just kinda stays in his room for a while. Robin moves out at 6, Zoro and Nami 7, Usopp 8. Franky is the last to walk into the common room at about 9. Then there’s Trafalgar D. Law, the one person on the ship that you were never meant to get so used to, that you were trying so hard to keep unfamiliar.

Key word, Trying.

But how could you not know everything about him? When it all happened so naturally… When one day you were fighting alongside each other as allies, simply as part of a formed alliance, and the next you found yourselves entangled, both in body and spirit, beneath the stars. It was all too much of a cliche for your liking, but you have to admit that it was an enjoyable one.

In a restless fit, you peel the covers off of your body and sit up. Law sleeps beside you. He lays still, undeterred by the bed's sudden movement. You watch with sunken eyes and a heavy heart as his chest gently rises, gently falls, and then gently rises again. It’s unfair how peaceful he looks like this, how he sleeps so beautifully while you suffer alone through the darkness of the night.

He’ll be gone again come spring, but this time you’ll probably never see him again.

It’s not like neither of you didn’t know it was going to end like this, you were aware of it from the start. Law’s the captain of Heart Pirates and you’re a Strawhat, the odds were never gonna work out in your favour.

A soft sigh escapes the lips of the man resting to your right and you decide to get up before your emotions catch up to you. You cringe at the way the bed squeaks as you stand up, as you move to pull on the nearest jumper in your proximity before heading to the door.

Before walking out into the hall, you take one last glance at Law. The bare skin of his shoulders reflect the dim glow of the moonlight that has seeped through a small gap in the curtain. It’s as if he’s sparkling, he seems almost unreal, unworldly beautiful, yet he’s never looked so human. So vulnerable.

Leaving the room and closing the door ever-so-quietly, you tiptoe to the kitchen in search of some solace.

“Hey love,” Sanji looks up at you with a concerned smile as you enter. He’s standing by the stovetop boiling some water with a hand lazily sitting in his pocket, “still can’t sleep, huh?”

“Nope,” you move to lean against the kitchen counter, sighing. A frown pulls downward at your lips as you watch the cook move to get a mug, putting together a warm concoction of caffeine, just for you.

Sanji hands you a fresh cup of coffee. It sits within the palm of your hands. It’s entirely too hot and borderline painful, but you’re too drowsy; your mind is too hazy to care.

This has all become a part of your daily routine; you spend hours being tormented by your own emotions, then when Sanji wakes up, you meet him in the kitchen where he’ll make you coffee and then beg for you to talk about what the hell is up with you. It isn’t the pink pilates princess 5 am perfect IT girl routine you wish it was, but it was familiar enough by now to be comforting. You also simply enjoyed Sanji’s presence. You had a good friendship with him, he never told anyone about your business and you never told anyone about his.

“This is eating you alive, isn’t it?” He poses it as a question as he turns to prepare a coffee for himself, but really, it’s more of a statement.

You nod. It’s like the past few months have been a weird lucid dream and now that it’s almost time for you to wake up, you don’t know how you’re meant to face reality again.

You take a sip of the coffee, it burns your throat on its way down and it’s painfully bitter but it’s your own doing. You told Sanji, the first time you came to visit him so early in the morning, that you wanted it black with no sugar, as if you wanted to use it as a form of punishment. As for what you were punishing yourself for, you never quite knew.

“I’m just so scared of this all ending,” your eyes begin to glisten beneath the fluorescents of the kitchen and you bite the inside of your cheek. The white-knuckle grip on your coffee cup threatens to break the handle clean off.

“Sweetheart, you’re doing a great job of keeping it all together for Law's sake, but you can cry, it’s okay.” He says softly as he steps closer to you, taking the mug out of your hand and placing it down on the counter beside you before capturing you in a hug. It’s gentle, full of concern, and you lean into his warmth, desperately needing the comfort. It’s a gesture of acknowledging that he understands and it’s something that he’d never let the other crew members see. It’s something he’d keep just between the two of you.

“No. I promised myself not to cry until he’s gone,” you squeeze your eyes shut, protesting against the tears threatening to escape as you continue to utter into his chest, “what kind of selfish person would I be? We both knew this could never last.”. He doesn’t respond, he just holds you until your breathing becomes more even. Sanji knows you won’t listen, he’s tried, but god knows you are too stubborn for your own good. Your intentions were always too pure and you always let them hurt you in return.

He comforts you like this for a while, only pulling away when the sounds of someone else waking up begins to echo through the ship’s halls. He takes a step back and places a reassuring hand on your shoulder for a moment before turning away to prepare breakfast.

…

It is Spring now, and it’s time for Trafalgar Law to return to his crew.

You’ve all stepped off of the Thousand Sunny to say goodbye and you can’t quite focus on what the rest of your crewmates are saying to Law, or how they are even reacting to him leaving. You should probably be consoling Chopper, seeing as he looked up to him so much, but you don’t have it in you to take a single step forward, let alone think of the right words to say to the small reindeer.

You only snap back to reality when you notice everyone has turned to look at you. You still feel detached from your own body as you let your feet take you over to where Law stands. You stop just before him, tilting your chin to look up at him.

You try to speak but every vowel clings to the back of your throat, and with every breath, it feels like your tongue is choking you out.

How are you meant to compose yourself, when he looks down at you with the only eyes in the world that knows the true depths of your heart and soul?

“It all ended too soon, I'm sorry.”

He finally breaks the silence and you force back your tears in an attempt to preserve your own personal vow, opting instead to bite down into your lower lip. As blood begins to draw, and the taste of metallic begins to lace your gums, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

He is soft, he is warm, and he is everything you could never be.

“don’t be sorry, you aren’t allowed to be sorry.” You say shakily into his chest, “I enjoyed every second of our time together, I’ll never regret it.” your words come out as nothing but a muffled whisper but he understands nonetheless, he always understands.

“I wish I didn’t have to go, but there’s nothing we can do about it” he speaks into the softness of your hair, and although you can’t see his current expression, the dread in his voice was enough to alert you of the sorrowful look on his face.

“I know.”

There’s a brief pause. He clings to you tighter.

“I have to go.” It hurts for you to hear as much as it hurts for him to say it. His determination to stick to whatever complex plan he has constructed in his head was something you always admired, but you selfishly wish that just this once, he wasn’t so damn smart and calculative. You wish that his stubborn and borderline unkind demeanour would falter for just a second, so that you could understand how he truly feels about the situation at hand. Of course, however, there is nothing to be done, Law is not a man that you can change so easily. He loves you, and you know that, but he simply can’t be distracted from taking the correct path.

He finally loosens his grip on you.

“I know.” You whisper as you breathe in his scent for the last time as his arms fall back to his sides. It takes you a moment, but you let go of him and step back, out of his grasp.

Law can’t bear to look directly into your eyes, the sorrowful look on your face doesn’t suit you and he will never forgive himself for doing this to you. He chooses to glance down at your feet for this next part; the hardest part.

“Goodbye.” He finally says with hesitance. This is all too cruel, in any other life you two were endgame. out of all the timelines to coexist, why did you two have to be in this one?

“Goodbye.” Before you can say anything else he grabs your face and presses his lips onto yours. Your final kiss; it’s heartfelt, it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. His lips manage to say more than you could ever come up with in an entire lifetime and as he pulls away slowly, something lands on your head. You reach your hands up to feel what it is, it’s his hat. You look up at him, questioning his motives as your eyes finally well up.

“Keep it, for me, please.”

Law takes one last sombre look at you and turns around. He walks away and you don’t stop him, this is just how it has to be. He begins to disappear from your line of sight and you fall to your knees in an emotionally exhausted heap, your heart feels as if it has burst inside your chest and you finally let your sobs take a hold. You watch as his figure finally fades into the atmosphere, clutching desperately onto the leopard print fabric of his hat, the only physical thing you’ll ever have to remember him by.

You vow to never love anyone again.

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law fic #save me law #law save me #I DONT CARE IF IT DOESNT LAIGN WITH IS PERSONALITY IM BEING SELFISH #sorry for unrequited love oopsies #op law

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ginnsbaker · 10 months

Text

Rivers and Roads (Til I Reach You)

Summary: The best(and worst) ways to fall in love with your best friend's younger sister.

Word count: 11.3k+ | Warnings: Angst, Smut, Underage Sex, Minor Violence | Ship: Yelena x Female Reader

A/N: Takes place before "In Flames" but can be read seperately ; Requested by anon: Would you write about Yelena and Reader's first attempt at a relationship? How they saw each other as more than just Nat's little sister or best friend? ; Hope you like it, anon :)

Masterlist

Your father's funeral ends the same way these things always do: friends and family approaching you and your mother, one by one, each offering condolences like they're reading from a script. The words are polite, rehearsed, almost mechanical, and though you nod and thank them, each sympathy feels more hollow than the last.

Like a zombie, you go through the motions, detached from everything around you.

The crowd eventually thins, and that’s when Natasha approaches with Yelena in tow. She hugs you tightly, her body trembling with emotion. “I'm so sorry, Y/N,” she whispers, her voice catching in her throat. “If there's anything I can do, anything at all, just let me know.”

You feel her warmth, but your response is cold, almost automatic. “Thank you,” you say flatly.

When you step out of Natasha's embrace, Yelena steps forward, a look in her eyes like she's ready to do the same thing. But as she moves closer, she hesitates, her mouth parting as if to speak, but the words remain trapped inside. Without waiting for her to say anything, you excuse yourself and head up to your room.

Downstairs, Natasha tugs Yelena to go home. But Yelena's gaze is fixed on the ceiling, right where she knows your room is. She silently declines, and Natasha, reading the situation, gives her a knowing nod without pushing further. With a quiet goodbye, Natasha exits, leaving Yelena with her eyes still fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought.

The minutes feel like hours as she sits there, a battle raging inside her. She wants to be there for you, to offer comfort, but she's paralyzed by uncertainty and fear. Finally, a decision forms in her mind, and she rises from the couch, her heart pounding.

Slowly, she makes her way up the stairs. When she reaches your door, she stops, her hand hovering in the air. She hears the soft, unmistakable sound of crying, and her heart aches.

Softly, she places her hand on the door, pretending it's you, pretending she has the ability to comfort you. But she doesn't, and it's one of the most painful experiences of her young life. To stand there, helpless, listening to the person she cares about hurting, and not being able to do anything about it.

Tears well in her eyes as she leans her forehead against the door, feeling the barrier that separates her from you, a barrier she's unable to cross.

And so, she waits, trusting that someday, when you're ready, she'll be able to step through that door, reach out, and stand by your side when you need her most.

She doesn’t see you for the rest of the summer.

She tries to ask Natasha about you, but even your best friend seems guarded, telling her she hasn't heard from you much either.

Around the same time, a boy from her class, Jeremy, starts dropping by her house. His visits are unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. He's friendly, outgoing, and he makes Yelena laugh—something she hasn't done much of lately.

But as the weeks wear on and Jeremy's interest in her becomes more apparent, Yelena can't shake the feeling that something's missing. Her thoughts keep drifting back to you, to the sound of your crying behind that closed door, to the pain in her chest that she feels every time she thinks of your suffering.

Jeremy tries to get closer to her, invites her out, sends her messages, even brings her chocolates and flowers, but Yelena finds herself holding back. She likes him, but she doesn't feel the connection she longs for, the connection she feels with you.

One evening, as she's aimlessly scrolling through her phone, avoiding yet another message from Jeremy, she stumbles across a picture of you and your father. The memory hits her like a physical blow, and she can't help but wonder how you're coping, if you're healing, if you even think about her at all.

The very next day, she kisses Jeremy for the first time.

III

When she does see you again, it's at a party before the school year begins.

You're alone, clutching a bottle of Jim Beam like a lifeline. You bring it with you, taking long swigs ever so often, not caring who's watching. You look just like the last time she saw you—uninterested, vacant, a shell of the person that used to be filled with so much good energy.

The crowd around you is lively, laughing, celebrating the end of summer, but you stand apart from it all.

Yelena's concern deepens, and she quickly sends a text to Natasha, hoping that she might have some insight or guidance. “She’s here at the party,” she writes, her fingers trembling. “Drinking alone. Looks lost. What should I do?”

The response from Natasha comes quickly, and it's clear from her words that she's as bewildered as Yelena. “What? I didn't know about this. Keep her there. Don't let her leave. I'm coming.”

Yelena looks up from her phone, her eyes scanning the room to find you again. Her heart aches at the sight of you, standing alone, your face a mask of emptiness.

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself to approach you.

But before she can make her move, a voice calls her name, and she turns to see Jeremy coming towards her with a smile.

“Hey, beautiful,” Jeremy says cheerfully, closing the distance between them with a warm smile. He leans in and plants a soft kiss on Yelena's cheek.

Yelena forces a smile in return, her thoughts still consumed by the sight of you across the room. She appreciates Jeremy's presence, but at that moment, she can't shake the nagging worry she feels.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Jeremy asks, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it's good,” she says.

Jeremy doesn't seem to notice Yelena's lack of focus. His eyes are alight with excitement, and his grin is infectious as he exclaims, “I've got a surprise for you. Come upstairs with me?”

Her attention is pulled away from you momentarily. “A surprise?”

“Yeah, I think you'll love it,” Jeremy assures her, tugging on her hand gently. “Come on, it'll just take a minute.”

Yelena hesitates, glancing once more in your direction. You’re looking worse by the second, but she also knows that she can't ignore Jeremy, especially when he's clearly made an effort to do something special for her.

With a sigh, she gives in to Jeremy's urging. “Okay, but just for a minute,” she agrees, allowing him to lead her toward the stairs.

You don’t remember much of what happened when you come to.

Your fist is clenched, throbbing with pain, and the skin is turning an unnatural shade of blue. Jeremy—Yelena's new boyfriend—is clutching his arm, his face twisted in agony. Yelena is kneeling next to him, her eyes wide, her face pale, looking up at you in shock.

“What...What happened?” you stammer, the room spinning around you.

You hear a gasp from the doorway. Turning, you see a tall, lanky man with tousled hair and a startled expression. He's holding a drink, the liquid sloshing slightly from the sudden movement.

“Everything alright in here?” he asks, eyebrows raised in concern.

Yelena's gaze shifts to the man, then back to you. Panic flits across her eyes. “It's nothing,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “Just a...misunderstanding.”

He hesitates, eyes darting between you, Jeremy, and Yelena. He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “That doesn't look like 'nothing'.”He nods towards Jeremy's arm and your bruised fist.

“You should leave,” Yelena hisses at you, her voice low and threatening. She rises to her feet, seemingly towering over you despite the fact that you’re taller than her. “Now.”

You're still disoriented, the pain in your hand and the weight of the situation pressing down on you. “Yelena, I didn't mean–I thought he was forcing himself on you–”

She cuts you off. “I don't care what you meant. Just get out.” Her voice trembles with a mix of anger and fear.

Mark steps aside, allowing you a clear path to the door, but his eyes remain fixed on you, filled with curiosity and suspicion. As you stagger past him, you can hear Yelena's voice, softer now, murmuring words of comfort to Jeremy.

The next time you see Yelena, a week has gone by and the purple and blue on your knuckles has substantially faded.

It’s the weekend and you find yourself in the public library while the rest are hanging out in malls or anywhere that doesn't carry the smell of books. It wasn’t always like this—you’d normally be in the Romanoffs’ house by now, playing video games with Natasha or discussing art and literature with Yelena.

You're browsing through the contemporary fiction section when you spot her. Yelena's back is turned to you, her blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, strands escaping to frame her face. She's engrossed in a thick book, fingers tracing the lines as she reads. The library's tall windows drape her in a warm, sunlit glow, making her look almost unreal.

For a moment, you contemplate turning around and making a silent retreat. The memory of that night at the party, of Jeremy's pained face and Yelena's horrified eyes, still leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. But instead, your feet seem to make the decision for you, carrying you closer until you're standing just a few feet away from her.

She doesn't notice you at first, so engrossed in her reading. Taking a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak. “Yelena?”

She startles, the book nearly tumbling out of her hands. When she turns and meets your eyes, there's a flash of surprise, quickly replaced by guardedness. “Hey,” she says, voice cool and measured.

“I'm sorry,” you blurt out, the words spilling forth in a rush. “For that night, for everything. I never meant to hurt anyone. I went upstairs to use the bathroom and I heard…sounds…coming from that bedroom and I…it didn’t seemed consensual to me, what was happening–”

Yelena interrupts you, her voice rising in defense, “It was consensual.”

You look deep into her eyes, searching for any sign that she’s not telling the truth. “Are you sure?” you ask gently.

“Yes,” she replies firmly, but there's something flickering behind her gaze.

Not convinced, you press on, “How many times?”

She looks taken aback. “What?”

“How many times did you give your consent?” you ask, emphasizing each word.

She hesitates, her mouth opens to say something, but no words come out.

The few seconds of her silence feels like hours, and then you finally break it. “I just wanted to make sure you're okay," you mutter, pressing your lips together into a tight line.

“Why do you even care?” Yelena scoffs, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Almost reflexively, the truth tumbles out, “Because you're Nat’s little sister.”

For a brief moment, something akin to disappointment crosses Yelena's features, a shadow over her usually bright and fiery eyes. You catch that subtle shift and, for reasons you can't quite place, you're filled with a sudden urge to retract your words.

She exhales sharply, her voice laced with frustration. “So, it's always about her, isn't it? Can't I just be Yelena, without being 'Natasha's sister'? Why does everything I do or whatever happens to me always get linked back to her?”

You swallow hard, realizing your mistake and at the same time, confused as to why it seems like the wrong reason to come to her rescue. “I didn't mean it like that,” you quickly say, fishing for the right words. “I care about you too, Yelena. But yes, knowing Nat makes me more protective. I'm sorry if it came out wrong.”

Yelena simply studies you for a moment before she starts to walk past you as she says, “You say you care, but when your father passed away, you didn't seem to need either of us. Natasha and I tried to be there for you, but you shut us out.”

Your gaze drops, and you quietly fall in step behind her, knowing that she’s right. They both had a bond with your father and felt his loss deeply. While they reached out, you had inadvertently left them in the cold.

“It wasn't that I didn't need or want you both. I just... didn't know how to reach out, how to let anyone in,” Your voice is so faint that Yelena almost misses your words. Abruptly, she halts and, against her better judgment, draws you into a secluded aisle between towering bookshelves for a moment of privacy.

Her hand then reaches out, fingers lightly brushing yours.

“Don’t shut us out. You don’t have to say anything. Just… don’t be alone. Because you’re not,” Yelena says. “Nat and I are here for you.”

You take a moment, a quiet sniffle escaping before you subtly dab the corner of your eye. Though your face remains composed and your eyes shimmer, they betray the strength you're trying to project—a strength Yelena wishes you didn’t feel compelled to display around her.

“I–I know…” you say. You squeeze her hand in gratitude before releasing it. Yelena tries not to sigh at the loss of your touch. “Is Nat upset with me?”

Yelena hesitates, keenly aware of the proximity between you two in the tight aisle. “She's... waiting, you know. We both are. We've missed you, Y/N.”

Your lips curve into a small, bashful smile. “I've missed you guys too.”

As a rosy hue tints Yelena's cheeks, she wishes, if only for a moment, that those words were meant just for her. She quickly deflects, her voice slightly uneven, “I was about to borrow this and head home,” she gestures to the book she's clutching, placing it as a barrier between you.

“Are you planning to stay here awhile longer?” she asks.

You ponder on it for a moment before saying, “Can I come with you?”

Yelena smiles.

“Always.”

“I’ve decided to enlist” Natasha tells you one afternoon after school.

“The military?” you ask, trying to maintain focus on the screen. Your fingers dance over the game controller, securing a win against Natasha yet again. You can't help but suspect that she's using this to divert your attention from the game.

“Not exactly the military,” she clarifies. “It's... well, it's for a government project. Details are classified, even from family.”

You pause the game, finally turning to give her your full attention.

“You're serious,” you say.

Without missing a beat, Natasha resets the game, her casual demeanor juxtaposing the gravity of her decision.

“Does Yelena know?” you ask, eyes flickering towards Natasha.

She hesitates for a moment, her fingers momentarily stilling on the controller. “Not yet,�� she admits, her voice softer. “But I'll tell her soon.”

“Where is she anyway?”

Natasha's gaze drifts before she answers, “She's with Jeremy.”

Your eyes harden instantly at the mention of his name, a reaction so visceral that Natasha picks up on it right away.

“You don't like him,” she observes with a smile.

“No, I don't,” you reply tersely.

Natasha's brow furrows with concern. “Did something happen at that party a little over a week ago?”

“Why do you ask?”

She exhales slowly, rubbing her temples. “Just a feeling... Yelena's been... different since then. I thought maybe you'd know why.”

You’re torn. You feel an urge to warn Natasha about this boy that Yelena’s been seeing. But the look on Yelena’s face after you hit him still haunts you to this day.

She’s obviously smitten with him. Going behind her back won’t help.

“Could you, maybe, talk to her?” Natasha asks. “She always listens to you, you know?”

You smirk, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s because I’m the voice of reason.”

Natasha lets out a soft laugh. “That you are.”

VII

Talking to Yelena proves more challenging than you have anticipated, because you can’t seem to find her these days.

Each time you're at her and Natasha's place, she’s not home. Her room remains untouched, bed made neatly and no signs of recent activity. Natasha assures you she comes home, but always at odd hours, usually when the city's asleep.

It's surprising to learn that she's consistently invited to parties that neither you nor Natasha know about.

The girl who keeps to herself most of the time, hiding in bookstores and libraries, has now become the talk of the town and the life of the party. You wonder when and how this transformation took place.

And because she’s Natasha’s little sister, you can’t help but worry about her. Can’t help but think about the kind of people she surrounds herself with these days.

Can’t help but feel protective of her.

Which is why, when you accidentally run into Jeremy after scouring Yelena’s usual hunts in the East Village, you don’t hesitate to approach him even though you're painfully aware he might have every reason to retaliate for that night at the party.

He's leaning against a graffiti-splashed brick wall, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. As you draw closer, his eyes lock onto yours, recognition igniting an unmistakable spark of animosity.

“Look who it is,” Jeremy sneers, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “What do you want?”

“I'm looking for Yelena,” you reply evenly.

He chuckles darkly and then holds the cigarette between his lips as he says, “What, are you in love with her or something?”

Your jaw tightens, trying to keep your emotions in check. “She's a family friend, okay? My best friend's sister.”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically, taking another drag from his cigarette before exhaling slowly. “I find that hard to believe, especially after the way you came at me.”

Lifting his sleeve, he reveals a dark, mottled bruise, evidence of your previous altercation. “All this for a family friend?”

“I'm protective of the people I care about,” you retort, your gaze unwavering. “Now, where is she?”

Jeremy smirks, the smoke from his cigarette curling between you two. “Why should I tell you? Maybe you should deal with your feelings first.”

You sigh, your patience waning fast. “Are you going to tell me or not?”

Jeremy takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. His smirk falters for a moment. “She dumped me that night,” he finally says, a hint of bitterness in his tone. “Haven't seen her since.”

You’re surprised (and mildly relieved) to learn that Yelena ended things with him that quickly.

“Then why are you still hanging around her usual spots?” you ask.

He shrugs, falling back against the brick wall, looking more dejected than you would have expected. “Hoping she'd change her mind, I guess. But if you're really desperate to find her, there's this place she mentioned once. A quiet spot by the Brooklyn Bridge, where she goes when she needs to think.”

You nod, processing the information. “Thanks for the tip,” you say reluctantly.

He spits out the blunt and then crushes it with his heel. “Whatever.”

VIII

The sun has begun to set when you arrive in Dumbo. Facing the river, with no buildings within its immediate vicinity, the wind moves freely in its playground. The East River shimmers with colors, and the Brooklyn Bridge stands out against the sky. It makes sense to you why Yelena would choose this peaceful spot in the city for solitude.

You find a series of benches scattered along the promenade, some occupied by people absorbed in their own worlds, either gazing at the river or lost in the pages of a book.

As you walk further along the riverside, you spot a familiar figure perched on a low stone wall. Yelena, with her hair being toyed with by the wind, is staring at the water with a distant look in her eyes. She's so engrossed in her thoughts that she doesn't notice you approaching.

“Hey,” you start softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turns to look at you, surprised at first before it gradually morphs into wariness.

“Are you stalking me?”

“No, of course not,” you answer quickly. “I was just... worried about you.”

“Worried? Why?”

“Jeremy told me you two broke up. And with you being... distant lately, I just wanted to make sure you're okay.”

Her eyes drift back to the river for a moment, and then she sighs, her shoulders slumping a little. “I didn't expect him to spill our business to you, of all people,” she mutters, sounding more hurt than angry.

“I ran into him while looking for you,” you explain, trying to ease the tension. “He suggested you might be here.”

Yelena crosses her arms, looking a bit skeptical. “So, you're here out of concern, not because you're trying to... I don't know, gloat or something?”

“Gloat?”You blink in confusion. “Why would I gloat?”

She looks away, avoiding your gaze. “Never mind.”

“I just want you to know,” you start, choosing your words carefully, “That whatever is going on, you don't have to deal with it alone. Nat is worried about you, too.”

Yelena lets out a humorless chuckle. “Nat sent you?”

“No,” you clarify, the sort-of lie coming out easily for you. Technically, she did send you, but she mentioned it in passing, hoping you’d help her get through her sister. “But she's concerned. We both are.”

Yelena hums, seemingly unsatisfied with your sentiments.

“What are you doing here anyway?” you ask, plopping beside her.

She glances at you, then focuses on the water again. “Thinking... about everything. Did you know Natasha is leaving by the end of the month to join some weird government program?”

Your head whips around to face her, surprise evident in your eyes. "She told you?"

Yelena looks even more surprised–and a little hurt–that you already know.

“You knew?”

You nod grimly. “But I didn’t know she’s leaving so soon.”

Yelena shakes her head, her expression souring slightly. “I found out accidentally while using her laptop the other day. There was an email opened.”

The two of you sit there in silence, both lost in thought. You miss the days when things were simpler, when the three of you would hang out without any secrets or looming departures hanging over your heads.

“I don’t want things to change,” Yelena murmurs, her voice revealing traces of the reserved young girl who once hid behind her older sister’s more confident demeanor.

You wish for the same thing, but the truth is, a lot has already changed.

Starting with the death of your father.

And now, faced with the prospect of losing your best friend too, you don’t hesitate. You instinctively pull Yelena into a tight embrace. She stiffens momentarily but then melts into the hug, her breath warm against your shoulder, as your bodies fit together in a new and uncertain way.

Natasha’s up and left by the end of September, and as a new month rolls around, you and Yelena both find yourselves spending time together without the balancing force of her sister. Those first few meetings are stilted, almost as if you're dancing around the elephant in the room. There are fumbled greetings, exchanged in hallways and awkward silences over cups of coffee.

During one of those brief encounters, Yelena mentions her struggle with math. It's a subject you've already navigated, being two years her senior. “I remember going through that topic,” you muse one day, sketching out a problem for her. She squints at your notebook, and you can see the cogs turning.

Your sessions become regular, and soon, the two of you are spending longer stretches of time together. The rhythm is slow but steady. There's a mutual understanding that neither of you want to discuss the glaring void Natasha has left behind. Instead, you bond over shared experiences, inside jokes, and little adventures in the city.

Late night study sessions turn into spontaneous pizza runs. Movie marathons evolve from strictly academic films to cult classics and cheesy rom-coms. There's an unspoken agreement that you both desperately need a distraction, and slowly, you become that for each other.

However, in the crowded hallways of school, things aren't as seamless. You have your established group, a band of friends who’ve known you for years, and their expectations of you are set in stone. Yelena, on the other hand, moves in different circles. With her distinctive style and entourage of artsy friends, they occupy spaces you rarely venture into.

Moreover, your schedules hardly ever line up. While you’re leaving for advanced courses or student council meetings, she's typically heading to the arts wing for a drama club rehearsal or a literature symposium. Those stolen moments in the library or quick nods across the cafeteria become your only connection, otherwise you’d be total strangers from an outsider’s perspective.

One day, during lunch, your friends jokingly mention the budding ‘friendship’ with Yelena. “So, tutoring the sister now? How's that going?” one of them teases. You just smile and shrug it off, but you can't help but feel a pinch of guilt for not integrating Yelena more into your world.

There are also times when Yelena's friends shoot curious glances your way, probably wondering about the nature of your relationship with her. There are whispers, but you both ignore them, focusing on the close friendship you've built, especially with Natasha gone.

It’s your senior year, and you’re just starting to see just how much you and Yelena have in common.

You can't help but wish you'd realized this earlier, especially since you'll be heading to New York University next year.

One night, after you both finish watching “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” in your room, Yelena glances over at you, a kernel of popcorn held precariously between her lips.

“Have you ever been in love?”

You almost choke on your soda, before recovering to shrug and say, “I don’t think so.” You watch as Yelena smirks and slowly chews on the popcorn before licking her lips, your eyes following the movement.

“Got a crush on anyone, then?”

The word 'crush' makes your heart race for reasons you’re still unaware of. You find yourself briefly lost in the depths of her green eyes, and there's something about the way her lips curl that grabs your attention. Shaking your head subtly, you rally your thoughts.

“What about you?” you counter, turning the question back on her in an attempt to keep the spotlight away from you. “Ever been in love?”

Yelena pauses, a playful glint appearing in her eyes. She drags out the silence, clearly enjoying the suspense she's creating. “Maybe,” she finally admits with a sly smile.

That simple word instantly has your undivided attention. “Who is it?”

She bites her lip, a move that draws your gaze and makes your heart beat a tad faster. “It's a secret,” she says teasingly.

“Do I know them?”

Instead of answering, she just gives you a mischievous smile and, in a swift move, pulls the covers over herself, hiding underneath. You can hear her giggling, leaving you with more questions than answers.

You chuckle, grabbing a flashlight from your bedside table and diving under the covers alongside her, illuminating both your faces with its soft glow. The confined space brings you closer, close enough to notice the details of her face and the nervous twinkle in her eyes.

“Is it Jeremy?” you ask hesitantly, the guilt from the incident at the party still weighing on you. “I'm so sorry about that night. I never should've–”

“No, it’s not him,” she cuts you off, shaking her head emphatically, her hand lightly touching your arm. “It’s someone else... someone I've felt this way about for a while. For a long time, just loving them from a distance felt enough. But now...” Yelena trails off, her eyes searching yours, for something that might hint that you know who she is talking about.

That she’s talking about you.

“...now I’m not so sure it is,” she quietly finishes.

But your eyes give away your confusion, showing her you can't quite pinpoint who she's referring to. Moreso, when you say, “I hate that they’re making you sad.”

“It’s complicated,” Yelena says. “Sure, the thought of her not feeling the same way stings, but she brings me so much joy. The happiness she offers is greater than the pain. That has to mean something, right?”

“She?”

Yelena freezes at her slip-up.

“Yes... she,” Yelena drawls. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Nat doesn’t know. I haven't exactly been open about it. Not with anyone, really.”

You shift closer to her, ensuring she feels your presence and support. “Hey, I'm really honored you trust me with this. You never have to change or hide who you are around me. I love you just the way you are.”

She turns her head, her expression simultaneously hopeful and uncertain. “You love me?”

Without hesitation, you nod. “Of course. Yelena, between you, Nat, and my mom, you're the most important people in my life. I've always felt that way.”

She bites her lip, absorbing your words. “Oh,” is all she manages initially. The silence stretches between the two of you, heavy with something you both can’t put a name to. Then, in a voice so soft you almost miss it, she murmurs, “I love you too.”

You weren’t expecting to feel anything differently when she says it back, but you do–

So much, that you consciously maintain a safe distance between your bodies as you both eventually fall asleep.

Days go by, and you start seeing Yelena differently.

Little things about her catch your eye, like how the sun hits her hair or the way she laughs. You find yourself thinking about her more often than not, even during lectures.

One afternoon, you're studying together, and you realize you've been staring at the way she holds her pen for far too long. There's a song playing in the background, its lyrics vague and unimportant, but you can't help thinking how it's something she'd love.

But it’s those quiet nights, when the world is asleep, that your thoughts become more personal, more intimate. On one of these nights, as you’re ensnared in those thoughts, warmth spreading all over your body, your phone suddenly rings.

It’s Yelena. Hastily, you pull your hand away from your soaked underwear and try to sound casual as she asks you about a school project that you’ve tackled before. You can’t help but notice how huskier her voice has gotten recently, and as soon as the call ends, you’re shuffling your pants down your legs and fucking yourself with two fingers, coming to the name of your best friend’s sister on your lips.

What follows after is a deep-seated shame. You bury your face into your pillow, trying to muffle the self-reproach that threatens to spill over.

Now, each time your mind drifts to Yelena, there's a budding warmth, but it's quickly doused by guilt and the looming shadow of Natasha. The trepidation of how she might react to your burgeoning feelings for her younger sister haunts your every thought. Would she see it as a betrayal? As you, taking advantage of Yelena? Or would she understand that feelings, often unexpected and inconvenient, have a way of creeping in?

Days turn into weeks, and you do your best to suppress these emotions, to lock them away and throw away the key. But they have a pesky way of resurfacing when you least expect them to, making ordinary interactions with Yelena charged with a tension you can't shake off.

It's during one such interaction, when you're helping Yelena with a school project at her house, that she catches you staring a moment too long. Her eyebrows knit in confusion, and for a second, you think she's going to question you. But she doesn't, and you're left wondering if she feels it too. Feels a surge of current coursing through her body at any point of contact between your bodies.

XII

The air in Montauk is usually so soothing, but not today.

Walking through the front door, you immediately notice the empty spaces, corners that were once filled with your father’s belongings. Bewilderment strikes you first. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to take in the enormity of the situation. His jackets are no longer on the hook, his books absent from the shelf. That worn-out armchair where he used to sit with a cup of coffee every morning is no longer there.

The sound of paper crackling captures your attention, and you follow it to the backyard. Your heart plummets when you see your mom tossing pictures into a growing flame. It feels as if time has stopped, as you watch memories being consumed by fire. Each photo that curls, blackens, and disintegrates feels like a piece of your heart being pulled apart.

A scream of anguish and rage leaves your mouth before you can think.

“What are you doing?!” you shout, rushing forward to snatch what remains of the photos. But the damage has been done.

Your mother's face is a complex mosaic of pain, anger, and a little lunacy. “It's time,” she retorts, her voice brittle but resolute. “Time to move on.”

“How could you?” Your voice breaks, kicking the bench where your father used to lounge in, enjoying a cup of coffee.

Feeling the walls of your house closing in on you, you snatch a small box of photos, the only things that haven't met the flames yet, and storm out.

XIII

The Romanoffs’ residence automatically becomes your refuge.

You don’t even knock, you just barge in, your breaths coming fast, tears streaming down your face. It doesn't take Yelena long to figure out that something's wrong, and she envelops you in a warm, solid embrace.

Her fingers run through your hair soothingly, her voice a gentle murmur in your ear. “It’s okay, let it out,” she whispers, guiding you down the hallway towards her bedroom. Posters of classic horror films adorn her walls, giving the space a uniquely edgy feel. By the side, a stack of books teeters precariously, evidence of her voracious reading habits and an already overflowing bookshelf. Now that you've spent more time in it over the past few months, Yelena's room feels even more familiar than Natasha's ever did.

Before you know it, you're lying down, with Yelena sitting beside you, her hand never leaving yours. Overwhelmed and exhausted, sleep claims you amidst your tears.

Later in the night, you’re woken up by the clinking of a tray. Blinking your eyes open, you see Yelena by your side. She’s holding a plate of something warm and there's a pill and a glass of water on the tray beside her.

“Figured you’d have a killer headache from all that crying,” she says, handing over the pill. Her voice is soft, teasing even, trying to inject some lightness into the heavy atmosphere.

“You made dinner?” Your voice is a croaky whisper.

“Didn't want you starving on me,” she says, shrugging with a smile before setting the tray on the night table beside you.

And then she starts to ramble, her cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment, “I really don't know how to cook, so I just tried frying some spam. Then I ended up burning one side. I swear, every time I try to cook, I just—”

But you're barely hearing her. In that moment, it hits you just how much she's wormed her way into your heart. In an impulsive moment, powered by emotions running high, you reach out, cupping her face in your hands, and pull her towards you.

The kiss is a sweet, brief meeting of lips, but in that fleeting moment, it communicates more than words ever could. When you pull back, the air between you is thick and your lips are tingling and all you can think about is how much you want to lean in and kiss her again. Yelena's eyes search yours, both of you realizing that things may never be the same again.

Yelena seems to be processing, her green eyes wide and a little unfocused. The softness of her lips still lingers on yours, and the magnitude of what just happened starts to sink in.

Panic flares in your chest.

“I... I need to go,” you stammer, your mind racing for a reasonable excuse. You can't stay, not now. Not with the desire to push her down the bed looming over your head.

Before she can say anything, before she can even move, you're out of the room, leaving behind a dazed Yelena, clutching the tray she had brought for you, the scent of the burnt Spam still lingering in the room.

XIV

You avoid Yelena at all costs.

For the first three days, your phone buzzes constantly with her calls and texts, and you muster the will to ignore every single one.

At school, you find yourself darting through hallways and taking longer, circuitous routes just to dodge the places where you might bump into her. The hangout spots you both frequented over the past months—the tiny café by the library, the secret alcove behind the gym—are now places you avoid like the plague.

You switch up your post-school routine, taking a completely different path home, even if it means walking an extra mile. Friends begin to notice the lengths you're going to just to not see her and they shoot you questioning looks, but you shrug them off, not ready to talk about it.

There's even a wild, desperate thought about dropping out of school. But every time it comes to the forefront of your mind, you push it away. You're in your senior year; leaving now would mean throwing away all the work you've put in. Plus, you're on the cusp of moving away, starting anew. You just need to endure a little longer.

Every day feels heavier. On one hand, you want to duck and dodge, stay out of Yelena's path until you've figured what it means for you, for her, for your friendship with Natasha. On the other, you're missing her like crazy. More than once, you've caught yourself about to call or text her, only to stop, unsure and overwhelmed.

And when she stops calling and texting, every time your phone lights up with a notification, a part of you wishes it's her, another hopes it isn't.

And the worst part? The gnawing feeling inside that tells you that the longer you avoid her, the greater the risk of losing her for good. And you're not ready for that. Not by a long shot.

You hide in your room. No one is answering because your mother is still at work, so you just listen to Yelena ringing the doorbell until it stops. You press your ear against the door of your room, straining to hear any signs of movement from downstairs. But there's no one.

And when the ringing stops–for a good ten seconds–you let out a quiet sigh of relief. But just as that thought that she’s given up crosses your mind, there's a sudden thud against your window. Jumping, you pull back the curtain a tad and spot Yelena, a frown carved deep on her face, a couple of pebbles in her hand.

“Come face me, you coward!” she yells, making you wince.

Flustered, you motion frantically for her to head to the front door. After making sure you’re decent enough to receive her, you take a deep breath and head downstairs.

When you open the door, Yelena stands there, eyes boring into you. She’s clearly angry and frustrated, and regardless of those, she still manages to take your breath away.

Yelena steps closer, into the little space you’ve unconsciously provided by opening the door, narrowing the gap between the two of you. Her proximity makes it difficult to think clearly.

“Why did you run that night?” she asks pointedly, the confusion and hurt undeniable in the way her voice thickens and shakes. “And why have you been avoiding me ever since?”

You look down at your feet as she tries to chase your line of sight. “It's not that I don't want to be around you, Yelena,” you start. “In fact, I want to be around you all the time.”

Yelena’s breath hitches at that. She frowns, trying to decipher your meaning. “So, what’s the problem?”

You muster the courage to lift your chin and finally meet her gaze. “I like you. A lot. So much, in fact, that I'm terrified of what could happen next. I'm scared I won't be able to hold back from falling in love with you.”

She blinks, taking in your confession. “You're such a stupid idiot,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

“You know those are synonyms, right?” you retort, trying to inject some levity into conversation.

She arches an eyebrow, “Dense.”

“That's just another synonym,” you mumble, meeting her challenging stare.

But before you can come up with another witty retort, she closes the gap between you two, whispering, “Shut up and kiss me.”

XVI

It’s getting harder and harder to control yourself around Yelena. Being around her has started to feel like you're navigating a minefield.

There's that time you're lounging in her bedroom, reading a book while she goes to shower. The sound of water running and the muffled hum of her voice singing a familiar tune combine to become your favorite music. The soft sheets of her bed, the faint scent of her on the pillow next to you, and the intimate setting conspire against your self-control. You have to consciously remind yourself to breathe evenly, to focus on the words in front of you, and not on the vision of Yelena in the shower.

Even small moments become loaded. Like when she's talking to you, and she tilts her head, exposing the soft curve of her neck. The light catches on her skin just right, and all you can think of is how it would feel under your lips. How she might shiver at your touch, how the pulse beating beneath her skin might race under your caresses.

Then there's the way she's been touching you more. A brush of her fingers, lingering hugs, those almost-too-close moments that send shivers down your spine. It feels like she’s playing a game, seeing how far she can push before you crack.

The dreams aren’t helping either. Some nights they’re tender, others they’re, well, a bit more heated. Waking up from them leaves you flushed and out of sorts.

One balmy afternoon, as the sun's rays filter through the slits of your bedroom curtains, the two of you find yourselves tangled once again. Suddenly, as you're catching your breath, Yelena pulls back slightly, looking deeply into your eyes, the desire evident. “I want you,” she whispers breathlessly, her voice shaking with want.

You freeze, her words threatening to make you combust. “Yelena,” you start, throat dry, “I don't think we should. Natasha doesn't even know about...this.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes with an exasperated sigh. “This isn't on us. Natasha's off at some super-secretive training camp. How are we supposed to tell her?”

You try a different approach. “You’re sixtee–”

“You’re seventeen,” she cuts you off quickly.

You smile softly at the pout forming on her lips. “I’m turning eighteen next week.”

“Semantics,” Yelena argues.

Your chest tightens, and you finally admit, “There's something else. I've... I've never been with anyone like that before.”

To your surprise, Yelena's confident demeanor falters. She looks away, biting her lip, “Me neither.”

Your eyes widen. “But... Jeremy?”

She looks away, biting her lip. “That night you punched him? That night, it's supposed to happen. But…” She takes a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. “All I can think of is you being outside that room. I can't do it. I've always... I've always wanted it to be you.”

The fact that she hasn’t been with anyone makes you even more nervous. You want her first time to be memorable and good.

“Yelena, uhm,” you start, fidgeting under her gaze. “I have no idea what to do.”

Her thumb brushes over the back of your hand, a soothing gesture. “Neither do I. But that's okay. We have each other.”

“And if we mess up?”

She smirks a little, that playful glint returning to her eyes. “Then we mess up together.”

XVII

It’s a mess, but neither of you would call it ‘messing up’.

When you’ve removed the final piece of clothing off her body, you find yourself staring at the juncture between her legs, your mouth watering at the sight of it.

It’s a beautiful mess.

Yelena shifts slightly, drawing your attention back to her face. Those brilliant eyes of hers are watching you, filled with understanding and the smallest hint of amusement. “First time seeing one up close?” she teases gently, breaking the tension.

Your cheeks warm, but you don’t look away. “You could say that.”

She reaches out, her fingers gently lifting your chin, guiding you to meet her gaze. “It's okay. Remember? We're learning together.”

You nod, kissing her fingers before she lets go of your chin.

“But please, touch me already,” Yelena husks out, arching her back and lifting her hips closer to your face in offering. “You’re driving me crazy.”

With that, you let go of your reservations, letting instinct take over.

But you take your time.

You slide your hands under her buttocks, palming her cheeks and keeping her place just in case. The heady scent of her arousal draws you in closer, a fresh wave of wetness collecting between your own thighs.

Tentatively, you stick your tongue out to touch its tip against the hood of her clit. The sharp intake of Yelena's breath and her subtle tremor give away her anticipation, making the corners of your mouth lift in a fleeting smile. It’s such a small action, and you can’t believe how responsive and needy she’s become.

“God, you're perfect,” you murmur, before flattening your tongue against her core and licking the entire length of her. Your eyes fall shut the moment you taste Yelena for the first time. She tastes as good as she smells, and you can’t help but repeat the act again and again. Each pass draws a deeper reaction from her, coaxing more wetness to cover the lower half of your face. As Yelena's responses intensify, you're grateful for your foresight in keeping her grounded, especially when she instinctively tries to pull away from the overwhelming sensations you're giving her.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the most gorgeous sight of Yelena–her fingers clutch at the pillows, pulling them close, while her body arches and writhes–a pure picture of ecstasy.

Emboldened by her reactions, you focus your attention on her clit, drawing the sensitive nub into your mouth, letting a gentle suction build. The sound Yelena makes is sharp and unguarded, her fingers weaving into your hair, pulling you closer, urging you closer to her heat.

The flush on Yelena's face intensifies, painting a path from her cheeks to her collarbone as you continue your ministrations. The squelching sounds created by your eager mouth intermingle with her breathy moans, the rustle of the sheets beneath, and your own low sounds of appreciation.

Sensing her impending climax, you momentarily cease the gentle suction, prompting a desperate plea from Yelena, “Please…” But before she can voice her needs, you plunge back in, your tongue swirling insistently around her sensitive nub.

With a final, muffled cry into the pillows, Yelena's body convulses, waves of pleasure coursing through her. You ease your movements, allowing her to ride out the aftershocks of her climax.

Gradually, Yelena's breathing steadies. The vibrant flush of arousal is gradually replaced by a more relaxed hue. Still nestled between her thighs, you place gentle kisses on her inner legs, giving her time to come down from her euphoric high.

Her fingers, previously tangled in your hair, begin to relax, though she doesn’t release you entirely. Instead, they trace delicate patterns along the nape of your neck and your shoulders. A contented sigh escapes her, and you can feel her legs relaxing around you, the earlier tension now but a memory.

Taking this as your cue, you wipe your mouth and chin and gently climb up, situating yourself beside her, pulling her into a close embrace. Her head rests against your chest, listening to the thud of your heart, which beats just as erratically as hers.

“You okay?” you ask softly, brushing stray strands of hair from her face.

She nods, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. “More than okay,” she murmurs, snuggling closer. “Thank you.”

You both lay there in comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of each other's presence. The outside world feels distant, irrelevant.

After what feels like hours but is probably just minutes, Yelena tilts her head up to meet your gaze, her eyes turning a darker shade of green again.

“My turn,” she whispers, her hands already exploring.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips as you arch an eyebrow, the sudden role reversal causing a thrill of anticipation to snake through you. “Impatient, are we?" you tease, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Yelena grins, her fingers deftly tracing a path along your collarbone, down your chest, eliciting a shiver from you. “Maybe I've just learned from the best,” she counters playfully, pressing her lips briefly against your neck.

She doesn't rush, taking her time, soaking in every one of your reactions. The softest of kisses to the inside of your wrist has you inhaling sharply. Yelena watches, a glint of mischief in her eyes, before repeating the action, this time lingering longer. Each delicate press of her lips feels like a brand, and you're aware of the rising heat that courses through your body, centered where you want her most.

The press of her thumb against your pulse point, just beneath your jawline, elicits an unexpected moan from your lips. She chuckles softly, clearly pleased with the discovery. “Found a new spot, did I?” Yelena whispers, her voice husky.

Your response is lost as her mouth travels down, her tongue painting a trail down your collarbone, causing you to arch into her touch. “Yelena…” your voice is a breathy plea, laced with desperation.

Her fingers splay across your abdomen, her touch light, almost ticklish. It's a stark contrast to the firm press of her lips against the soft flesh of your thigh. Your hands find her hair, urging her closer, but Yelena pulls away, teasing.

Her eyes meet yours, filled with a playful defiance. “Patience,” she chides, her hot breath against your skin sending another shiver down your spine.

The build-up is excruciating, driving you to your limits.

When her lips finally meet the wetness between your thighs, the sensation is electric. She starts by laying a series of soft kisses there, each one making your hips jerk slightly, seeking more of her. Her tongue dips into you, tasting, exploring, teasing.

Her fingers join in, sliding through your wetness, gathering it before pressing into you. The combined sensation of her fingers moving inside while her mouth focuses on your clit is almost too much to bear. The slick sounds of her mouth on you, combined with the rhythmic thrusting of her fingers, fills the room. The dampness between your legs grows with each pull and push, with every flick and suck she delivers.

As Yelena works her magic, she surprises you by letting her fingers wander further back, teasing the rim of your other hole. The unexpected sensation causes you to gasp sharply, eyes widening in surprise and a new sort of arousal.

“Trust me?” she murmurs against your heated skin, her voice a low rumble that sends another jolt of pleasure through you.

All you can do is nod, your usual articulateness lost to the whirlwind of sensation. With the slickness from your arousal aiding her, Yelena gently applies pressure there, testing, probing, adding a new layer to the pleasure. The combination of her mouth, fingers inside you, and this new, intimate exploration has you spiraling.

Your fingers clutch her head, guiding her, even as your back arches, pushing yourself further into her touch. Yelena, sensing your nearness to the edge, doubles her efforts. The world blurs out, every nerve ending centered on the wet slide of her fingers and the firm, insistent press of her mouth against your most sensitive spot. With a final cry, you come around Yelena’s fingers, leaving you trembling, soaked, and sated beneath her.

For a moment, there's nothing but the two of you—the heavy breaths, the shared warmth, and the intoxicating scent of your combined arousal.

Then, with a tantalizing slowness, Yelena extracts her fingers from within you. You can feel their absence keenly, the cool air hitting the warmth they've just left behind. As she brings her fingers to her face, the wetness on them catches the dim light, making your heart race even faster.

Her eyes, dark with desire, lock onto yours. You're held captive by that gaze, and then with a smirk, she slides her fingers into her mouth, sucking on them deeply, audibly. The sound, the sight of it, is almost too much.

“Yum,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with mischief and satisfaction. The single word breaks the spell, sending another jolt of heat through you.

You don't even get a moment to process her bold move because, in the next heartbeat, you're overcome with a renewed surge of desire. Drawing Yelena closer, you can feel the slick heat of her pressing against you, the intimate wetness of your arousal mingling together.

The sensation of her clit, swollen and sensitive, rubbing against yours elicits deep, guttural moans from both of you. Your hands grasp her hips, guiding and urging her into a rhythm that sends sparks of pleasure ricocheting through your body. The room is filled with the sounds of skin on skin, punctuated by the wet slide of your clits moving together, and the heady scent of sex.

Yelena's eyes, half-lidded and wild, fixate on yours, capturing every reaction, every moan that slips past your parted lips. Her fingers dig into your hips, anchoring herself to you, as your bodies grind together, lost in wild abandon.

Your hands cradle Yelena's face, bringing her mouth to yours. As your lips meet, the kiss is all-consuming—a frenzied mix of passion and urgency, the taste of you still on her tongue.

Your hips falter, and you can't hold back the whimper that escapes when you feel that familiar sensation above your groin. The sensation of Yelena's body moving against yours, combined with the feel of her lips and the taste of her mouth, pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

Your focus narrows to the point where the only thing that matters is the tantalizing friction between the two of you. Yelena's rhythm matches yours, her hips moving urgently against your own.

“God... don't stop,” Yelena breathes into your ear, her voice shaky with need.

Your reply is caught by a moan as the coil in your belly tightens even more, threatening to snap. “Yelena…” you manage, voice raspy and broken.

Suddenly, her teeth bite down into your shoulder, making you gasp. “Sorry,” she mumbles against your skin, but you can hear the edge of ecstasy in her voice.

“It's okay,” you manage, voice strained with pleasure. “Feels... good.”

Yelena's hips grind unevenly against yours, the slickness between you both growing with each movement. Every thrust sends ripples of pleasure through you both, wetness mixing and coating your inner thighs, creating a deliciously slippery friction. You can feel the warmth of her arousal as it mingles with your own, the combined sensation dizzying.

“God... can you feel that?” Yelena gasps, her voice ragged and desperate.

“Yes,” you breathe, nearly overwhelmed by the sensation. The raw intensity of the moment, the feeling of her wetness against yours, is almost too much to bear.

“I'm close,” she warns, her voice strained.

“Fuck, me too,” you whisper back, lost in the sensation.

Suddenly, Yelena's body stiffens, her muffled cry against your shoulder sending vibrations straight to your core. The feeling of her release, warm and wet against you, combined with the bite of pain from her teeth, triggers your own climax. Your bodies shake together, still feeling the rush of pleasure even after the most intense moments have passed.

The room falls silent except for the sounds of your labored breaths and the gentle rustling of sheets. The rawness of the moment makes your skin tingle, and you become acutely aware of the warm stickiness between your thighs and the pulsating ache where Yelena had left her mark on your shoulder.

She pulls back slightly, her green eyes, now softened, searching yours. The corners of her lips tug upwards in a tender, adoring smile. “That was…”

“...unreal,” you finish, still catching your breath.

She chuckles lightly, shifting her weight to lie beside you. “Yeah, I didn't think... I mean, I hoped, but that was…”

“Beyond words,” you murmur, pulling her closer until she’s resting on top of you.

You both lay there for a moment, bodies intertwined, enjoying the afterglow. Yelena reaches out to caress the bite mark she left, a look of concern crossing her features. “Did I hurt you?” she murmurs, lips brushing against the reddened skin.

You wince slightly at her touch but shake your head. “It’ll bruise, but it's okay. Kind of like it, actually,” you say with a sly grin, making her laugh.

She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss on the bite mark, her lips lingering against your skin. “Sorry, I got carried away,” she mumbles against your shoulder.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you reassure her, tilting her chin up to capture her lips in a soft, languid kiss. “But maybe we should clean up a bit.”

She nods in agreement, and the two of you untangle yourselves from the sheets. The air feels cooler against your flushed skin as you help each other clean up, using damp cloths to wipe away the evidence of your shared passion.

Afterward, Yelena snuggles close, her head resting on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

You drape an arm over her, fingers absentmindedly playing with her hair. “I’m glad it was with you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss on the top of her head.

“I love you,” she says, tightening her grip around you. Those three words nearly bring tears to your eyes as a surge of affection for the girl in your arms envelops you.

“I love you too.”

XVIII

You want it to last forever.

More than exploring each other’s bodies nearly every night, you want each moment spent with Yelena to last forever. You might think it's too soon, but honestly, it feels like you've known her forever.

She’s it.

She’s the one.

Time, however, has its own pace. Before you know it, you and Yelena are receiving an email from Natasha herself that she will be coming home in two weeks. You can't help but feel a growing tension, a deadline looming over your idyllic world. But at the same time, you’re excited to have your best friend back.

One evening, as you both lay in bed, the soft glow from the streetlights outside illuminating the room, you broach the subject.

“When Nat comes back,” you start, tracing patterns on Yelena's arm, “I want to make us official. Tell her about us.”

Yelena's gaze meets yours, and though she nods, there's a hesitation in her eyes, a shadow of doubt. “Of course,” she replies, but her voice lacks the enthusiasm you'd hoped for. But for now, you pull her close, not wanting to read much into things especially with how perfect the past few months have been.

XIX

The atmosphere feels different since Natasha’s unexpected return.

A few days have passed, but the three of you continue to circle around each other, resembling planets in an unsure orbit. Yelena and Natasha seem wrapped up in their own reunion, while you tread carefully, waiting for the right moment to bring up your relationship with Yelena.

This evening, you find your opening. Yelena has stepped out, leaving you and Natasha alone in the living room, sitting at opposite ends of the couch.

“Has Yelena told you anything recently?” you finally break the silence, your voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Natasha tilts her head, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Did she mention something big? I mean… you were gone for quite some time and I understand if you’re shocked, but–”

“Uh, yeah, she did mention something,” Natasha interjects softly. “She got accepted to a program in Leeds.”

The world seems to tilt off its axis. Leeds?

“What?” you ask, failing to keep your voice down.

This is news to you. What’s going on?

“She’s leaving in ten days,” Natasha continues, looking at you curiously. “You didn’t know?”

You only realize Yelena's been distancing herself when you hear about Leeds.

Even though you still see her every day, she's managed to avoid spending time alone with you. Every time the topic of informing Natasha about your relationship comes up, she finds an excuse to divert or leave. Now, she consistently includes Natasha in your plans, turning what were once dates into casual hangouts.

As school ends one afternoon, you spot Yelena's familiar figure quickly exiting the building, her pace hurried, as though trying to escape. It's evident she's avoiding running into you on her way home. You remember the desperation that had led you to skip your last class, just so you could finally confront her.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly catch up to her.

“Yelena!” you call out.

She pauses, her shoulders tensing, and then slowly turns to face you. There's a hesitance in her eyes, but you're determined.

“Why Leeds?” you blurt out, all your emotions hinging on that single question.

She exhales sharply, looking as if she's been cornered, her gaze darting around. “I... I applied a while ago. Before everything between us started.”

Your heart sinks. “Were you planning on just disappearing without saying anything?”

Yelena's eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “I was scared,” she admits. “I didn't know how to tell you.”

“That's not fair,” you say, your voice choked.

She nods, biting her lip. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“I just...when did you apply?” you ask, trying to make sense of the timeline in your head.

“After Natasha told me about her own plans,” Yelena whispers. That was before you saw her in this new, intimate way, before everything between you two began. “I thought it would be best if I too had something to focus on.”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “So you applied because Natasha was leaving? Why didn’t you tell me? We could have figured something out together.”

She sighs, her gaze drifting downwards. “It was a spontaneous decision, a way to cope with the changes, I guess. And then, you and I happened... It all went too fast. Before I knew it, I was accepted and suddenly, telling you became the hardest thing to do.”

The realization stings. All those moments, all those memories, and all the while, there was this looming secret she hadn't shared. “So,” you mutter, a tremor in your voice. “This was all just... a distraction for you?”

Yelena's eyes snap up, wide and filled with panic. “No! Never! It wasn't like that at all. What we had, what we shared, it was real for me. More real than anything I've ever felt.”

Your eyes blur as tears gather around your eyes. “Then why Leeds? Why not tell me? Why not give us a chance?”

You find yourself repeating the questions, hoping that if said enough, they might somehow reshape the truth, making it easier for you to accept and move on.

“I didn't want to put you in that position," she confesses, her voice breaking. “To make you choose or feel tied down. I love you too much for that.”

You exhale deeply, gritting your teeth in order to hold yourself together. “Yelena, love also means being honest and facing challenges together."

“I know,” she whispers, unable to hold back her own tears. “I'm so sorry.”

The world around you seems to blur. “So, is this it? Are we just... done?”

She hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes for understanding. “I don’t want to hold you back, and I need to focus on this new chapter. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

Nodding slowly, you muster the strength to say, “Goodbye, Yelena.”

XXI

For several days, your room's four walls become your entire world. Natasha, sensing something amiss, checks on you with growing concern. When she questions your seclusion, you blame it on a virus, claiming it's safer for you to stay isolated. But the truth is, your heart is shattered, and you can't bring yourself to share the painful reality with your closest friend.

At first, Yelena's messages are filled with apologies, each one dripping with regret. But as the days go by, her tone shifts. There's worry evident in the string of texts that asks if you're okay, questions about your health, pleas for just one response.

Then, as silence from your end persists, the messages take on an edge. “Is this really how you want to handle things?” one of them reads. “After everything, you're just going to shut me out completely?”The accusations sting, but you're in so much pain already that it hardly makes a difference.

A particularly scathing text catches your eye one evening: “I thought we meant more to each other. Is this really how you want us to end?”

The screen blurs in front of you as tears threaten, leaving you torn between reaching out and honoring the goodbye you've already given.

XXII

Seven long days of silence later, something shifts within you.

Distance can't be an end. You can't let it. You decide it's time to act, to see Yelena, to tell her that you’re willing to put in the work despite the long distance.

Pulling on a jacket, you make your way to her house. Your mind races, framing and reframing the words you want to say, the assurances you want to give, the hope you want to share.

As you approach the house, you immediately notice the absence of music from the living room. Yelena always ensured a playlist was playing in the background, a comforting constant whenever they were home. That familiar comfort is missing now, replaced by an unsettling silence. A knot of unease forms in your stomach. You knock, hoping against hope.

The door opens, and there stands Natasha, mildly surprised to find you at her doorstep.

“Hey! Wasn't expecting you today,” she greets with a lightness. “You here for Yelena?”

You nod, trying to find your voice. "Yeah, I wanted to talk to her."

A puzzled look crosses Natasha's face. “Oh, she said she talked to you a couple of days ago. I thought... Anyway, she took an earlier flight this morning. I assumed she told you?”

The ground seems to fall away beneath you. You manage a weak smile, masking the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “I must've missed that. Thanks, Natasha. Maybe I’ll just text her…I think I left something on at home. Better head back.”

You retreat before Natasha can ask any more questions, literally running out of the house before you fall apart in front of her.

Reaching your place, you shut the door behind you, leaning against it as if trying to barricade yourself from the outside world. Your phone buzzes with a message notification. It's from Yelena:

I'm sorry.

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova imagine #yelena belova x you #yelena belova #yelena belova fanfiction #marvel #marvel wlw #my fics #my writing #IFISS #ILGOSS #natasha romanof #friends to lovers #smut #angst #yelena x reader #yelena x female reader

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wuxianxkexing · 7 months

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Mu Qing x Goddess Reader: Stop Fucking With My Cat Part 5

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What do you mean I have to actually write this story and it won't just magically appear? Yeah, I didn't forget, I've just been too busy for the past like 5 months? Or however long it's been since the last update. Lol

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Ghosts of all types were most active at night. It was a fact of life and it seemed like humans were born with that innate knowledge, the innate fear of the dark. Y/N didn't really mind the dark too much usually. However she really wasn't prepared for how all consuming the darkness of the swamp really was. It was her first time ever being in one. The torch she carried was practically useless. Between the darkness and thick of the swamp the eye could only see maybe a foot or two in front of it even with the help of the torch. Still it was better than nothing. With it's help Y/N was able to traverse the swamp with all of the delicatecy and grace of a couple hours old fawn, instead of one just born mere minutes ago. It was more difficult than walking on just solid ice! Y/N thought as she gave a dismayed look to Mu Qing who was impatiently stopping every few feet or so to wait for Y/N to catch up again. At least solid ice usually doesn't have so many damned obstacles! Y/N had long ago lost count of how many twigs, mossy rocks, fallen trees, roots and just plain mud she had fallen over during their trek deeper into the murky swamp. It didn't help that despite being so dark it was also super loud. Bugs, owls, frogs, everything seemed to be screaming, or rather singing, it's lungs out. Though Y/N supposed that was a good thing. A silent forest is a bad forest.

"At this rate I might as well carry you." Y/N froze over the large tree root she was making her way over. Mu Qing rolled his eyes so hard she wasn't sure if they'd ever return back to normal. Unlike Y/N Mu Qing was making his way through the swamps like an elf. Never a foot misplaced, barely making any noise. He had the footwork that one would expect of a martial God. It kind of annoyed Y/N, nevermind the insult he had just given her. Why was she the only one suffering in this stupid swamp? "Feng Xin could move through this faster and quieter than you. I'm surprised you haven't scared off everything in the area. The frogs must know that you are too clumsy to be a threat." He smirked.

"Well if you hadn't interrupted my hunting lesson with Echo I could've learned cat like footwork from him!"

"Pfft, so you'd make your master my cat? Well I suppose no one else /would/ take you under their wing." Y/N puffed her cheeks in mocking fake anger. She was a martial Goddess. If anything people would fight each other to be able to claim her as their student. They both surely knew that to be true.

"I think your cat would be a good master. The worst he'd do to me is maybe scratch or bite me, but at least he wouldn't have me run laps until my legs fall off." Y/N smiled back.

Mu Qing huffed and rolled his eyes. "Actually the worst he might do to you is try to suffocate you in your sleep by laying directly on your face like he does to me every night. He's not as innocent as he looks."

"Maybe I shouldn't have given him that demon collar after all. Sounds like he is already halfway there." Y/N laughed at her joke but Mu Qing just stared at her, clearly unamused. Y/N mentally hit herself. Right, he still didn't find the whole thing funny. Y/N liked to fancy herself as a comedian but undeniably most people didn't think she was very funny. She made the rest of her way over the large tree root and went to stand next to Mu Qing, who quickly turned on his heel and continued deeper into the swamp. 'Psh, maybe I should just have him carry me.' Y/N thought grumpily to herself. But she knew it was just a thought. No way would she ever ask to be carried by anyone, let alone Mu Qing. He obviously already thought that she was useless, she didn't need to make it worse. And really it was rather pathetic that a martial Goddess was having such a hard time just walking around. Y/N decided to focus harder on making her way through the swamp with some element of grace, and whether through actual focus or just more experience on where to step the duo actually started making decent time on their descent into the swamp. However their slow going in the beginning finally caught up to them as their last torch finally died.

"Nice going Y/N, now we have to walk around in the dark." Y/N felt her eye twitch in the pitch darkness. It wasn't her fault! She was pretty sure that they needed to bring twice as many torches than they did but Mu Qing was the one who didn't want to carry them around!

"General Xuan Zhen, why don't you just light a palm torch? I was pretty sure that we didn't bring enough torches along but you were the one who said that we'd be fine. Don't blame me for your lapse in judgment." Y/N let out through a very forced smile. She wasn't sure why she even bothered since neither of them could see anything at the moment but that's just a part of playing nice she supposed.

"Tch, why don't you light a palm torch. I need to conserve my spiritual energy." Y/N didn't need to see to know that he just rolled his eyes at her though. She thought about telling him to go fuck himself, she needed to conserve her spiritual power as well and being the very popular God that he was he surely had a lot more of it to spare than she did. Y/N waited a few seconds, listening to the sounds of frogs croaking in the night, considering whether or not she would use her spiritual power. To be honest she didn't really need her spiritual powers, her martial abilities were exceptional even without them, so she ultimately decided to cooperate and lit a palm torch for them.

Unexpectedly Mu Qing was standing a whole lot closer to her than she remembered and she almost caught his robe sleeve on fire. "Watch it!" He screamed out as he pulled himself out of the line of fire. Y/N almost laughed. What was he even doing standing so close to her in the first place after he had just told her to light a palm torch?

"Sorry General Xuan Zhen. My bad." Y/N weakly apologized with a small smile on her face. Mu Qing fixed her with a scrutinizing gaze.

"You did that on purpose."

"No I didn't. I thought you were standing over there." Y/N pointed to where Mu Qing was definitely standing when the last torch went out. His eyes followed the line of Y/N's finger and he pressed his lips together firmly. Maybe it was just the lighting from her palm torch but Y/N was pretty sure that Mu Qing was blushing.

"Whatever, let's get going." Mu Qing turned and started to walk off into the darkness, leaving Y/N to chase after him so he didn't get lost or hurt without light.

#heaven officials blessing #tgcf #mu qing #mu qing x reader stop fucking with my cat #tgcf x reader #heaven officials blessing x reader

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lays-little-world · 1 year

Text

The Storage Room - Kim Gyuvin

This is the first imagine I've ever written. I was riding the bus when I suddenly got this idea. It's basically just gyuvin ignoring you for no apparent reason and you trying to get an explanation. I hope you like it.

You couldn't really define the relationship between gyuvin and yourself. Were you friends? Just classmates? Or possibly something more? You weren't quite sure. But you knew that you love to spend time with him. It's hard to pinpoint a specific time when this acquaintanceship started, but you remember being paired up with Gyuvin for a school project.

And since then, he started to be a constant part of your life. Although you were quite the opposites, him being the goofball that he is and you being more on the reserved side, you felt an instant connection. You had the same kind of humour and could talk about the most random things for hours. You began hanging out around school, becoming deskmates, and even meeting after school.

Considering all of this, why was he ignoring you? It's been going on for a few days now. You try to make jokes to him but there's no reaction. You slip him a note during class and he completely ignores it. When you tried to speak with him " Gyuvin! Can we talk, please ?" He looks at you with a panicked expression and walks away with Yujin.

He left you standing there alone and without an explanation. And it hurts like hell. But what makes it worse is the fact that you have a silly little crush on him. So did you do something wrong? Now that you think about it, Gyuvin started acting weird since your little accident.

After a long day at school, you were glad to finally go home. As you walked down the stairs you spotted Gyuvin a few meters ahead of you.

You shouted his name "Gyuvin!" and sprinted in his direction. Unfortunately, you missed a couple of steps and started falling down. You closed your eyes and prepared yourself for the impact.

But it never happened. Instead you felt a strong set of arms around you, holding you tightly. You dared to open your eyes and saw your saviour for the first time. Gyuvin looked at you with a shocked expression, eyes wide open, face flustered. You let out a sigh because you're glad that you didn't plant your face in front of your crush.

"Are you ok, y/n?" Gyuvin asks, still holding you in his embrace. It's only then you realize that you two are still pretty close to each other.

"Oh, I'm fine. Thank you for catching me." you said while distancing yourself from him and chuckling nervously. Gyuvin must have realized it too as his face started blushing even more. You smiled at him and said your good bye "I gotta go. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, take care of yourself." he said rather shyly which is quite unusual for him.

Thinking about it now, you still can't find a reasonable explanation as to why he's ignoring you. You really thought that you and Gyuvin started to become friends and that he enjoys spending time with you. But you must be wrong, right?

You tried talking to him again, trying to get him to explain his odd behavior. Yet, he always finds a way to sneak away or avoid you completely. And you couldn't stand it anymore. That's why you could only think about using drastic measures.

You saw him walking through the hallway, Yujin by his side, laughing about something he said. It made you so mad. Seeing him so carefree while you suffered without him by your side. That's why you thought 'now or never' and grabbed his arm, dragging him to a nearby storage room, making sure to close the lock.

"Omg, wait. Y/n, what are you doing?" he said when he realized it was you.

"Listen here, Kim Gyuvin. I'll give you three seconds to explain why you've been avoiding me or I swear to god that you will regret every decision you ever made." you screamed while looking at him. All your pent-up anger finally escaping.

He couldn't look you in the eyes, trying to focus his gaze elsewhere. You saw his nervousness and the way he fiddled with his hands. It made you feel pity for him and you tried to approach him in a calmly manner.

"Hey, I'm sorry that I yelled at you, but I just need an explanation from you. You've been acting weird and avoided me as if I had the plaque. I really thought that we started to become friends and that you liked me. So tell me, what did I do to upset you?"

"You did nothing wrong, y/n ! That's the problem. You are the best person I know and I would love to be your friend. But I just can't."

"Wait, that doesn't make any sense. Why can't we just be friends?"

"Because I can't be normal around you. When you fell down the stairs and landed in my arms, my heart started to beat a hundred times faster. It made me realize that I have feelings for you and I can't just be your friend. You're all that I can think about. You're the reason I wake up smiling in the morning. And I thought that these feelings might go away when I would avoid you, but it only made me miss you instead. So I'm sorry that I can't be your friend. And I mean how could you love someone like me, when you're the most incredible human on earth."

You're completely overwhelmed. He never hated you, instead he tried to get rid of his feelings for you. You couldn't be mad at him any longer and took his hands into yours. He flinched a little and looked at you expectantly.

"You don't have to worry, Gyuvin, I missed you too. And you don't have to be my friend, because I realized that I can't be yours, either. If you haven't noticed already, you always make me smile with your silly jokes and I love the way you care about me. And your more than enough for me because I love you too. You're the best person anyone can wish for, so could you please stop ignoring me?"

You're still looking at him, eyes tearing up. He started to smile and cups your face with his hands. "I'm sorry that I ignored you. I should have talked to you about my feelings instead of dealing with it alone. I hope that you can forgive me and let me make it up to you."

"Of course I forgive you. So now tell me, how do you plan to make it up to me?" you asked him teasingly.

He leaned closer to you until you felt his lips on yours. To say you were surprised was an understatement. But you couldn't care less in this moment. You closed your eyes, put your arms around his neck and kissed him back. The butterflies in your stomach started going crazy while he deepened the kiss. You had to break apart for oxygen and couldn't hold your laughter. He put your foreheads together and smiled at you. You couldn't be happier in this moment. Just Gyuvin and you in this tiny storage room.

#zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #kim gyuvin #zb1 gyuvin #kim gyuvin x reader #gyuvin x reader #gyuvin imagines

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thecampjuicebox · 2 months

Text

Glorious Suffering Pt. 2

Pairing: Abdirak x Tav(f) x Astarion x Shadowheart

Rating: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: SMUT, sadomasochism, blood, choking, bruising, spanking, biting, voyeurism/exhibitionism, orgasm denial, oral, fingering, p in v penetration, minor game spoilers, multiple partners

**If you missed it, you can read Part 1. here!**

"You thought we were going to let you cum? Little love.. How naïve."

His words sting like bees. Little Love. The degradation should upset you. Should ruin whatever arousal you have left. But it doesn't. If anything, it adds oil to the fire. You're more wet than ever. Heat rises in your ears and the tips turn a bright red, your fists balling up behind you in frustration as you try and wiggle out of his grasp. Through gritted teeth, you growl. A pathetic performance, on your part. Abdirak stands before you and circles his index finger over both of your nipples, smirking at you with half lidded eyes as each one perks up.

The half elf across the room giggles in amusement.

"Positively cruel."

"Patience, dear one.. You'll meet your end soon enough."

Every nerve ending on your body burns - Sizzles and crackles like a freshly lit torch, a beacon of light illuminating your discomfort. It hurts. Gods, it hurts. You can barely hold yourself up now, your legs and ankles weak from your climax being so cruelly ripped away from you. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you let go, waterfalls of salty fluid making streaks through the splatters of blood and smears of dirt along your cheeks. A pathetic display. The "fearless leader" showing so much weakness. Shadowheart huffs in the distance and you can almost make out the faint shuffle of clothing sliding off of her soft skin. The way the fabric and armor hits the floor. Her careful footsteps. Then the warmth of her hands on your aching back, her soft breath against your ear.

"You sweet wounded bird.."

She licks a hot stripe against your cheek and it's enough to earn a groan from your raw throat. The gentle touches to your overstimulated flesh are somewhat comforting. So soft, so sweet, so very unlike Shadowheart. Astarion grins at the sight and cards a hand up through your hair to yank your head back, forcefully straightening your soiled back against him, his sticky seed covering the front of his tunic now.

"Mm. I've made quite the mess, haven't I?"

"I think we could get messier." Shadowheart purrs, moving to the front of your trembling body now.

She slides to her knees before you and stares up with her piercing green eyes, almost asking for permission. For what, you have no idea. A slight nod gives her the go ahead, not from you, but from Astarion and your breath catches in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut and wait. Wait for whatever sensation Shadowheart decides to bestow upon you. Sharp nails dig themselves into the plush meat of your thighs and your mouth falls agape with a yelp. After what seems like hours of waiting - agonizing waiting - hot breath coasts along your pulsating mound and your knees buckle beneath you. Astarion tuts behind you with amusement. He's so cruel. This is all so cruel. Beneath you, the raven haired half-elf moves her warm tongue over the nearly gushing slit between your thighs and a breathy moan escapes your parted lips.

If you could burst into flames in this very moment, you damned well would. Body, mind, and soul, all igniting with waves of white hot pleasure that wrack your body with uncontrollable trembles and whines as Shadowheart dips her tongue further. She's much more skilled than you'd anticipated; a lovely surprise you'd thank Shar herself for. A hungry moan slips past Shadowheart's lips as she begins to ravish every inch of your soaked cunt with her mouth - tongue, teeth, and lips all working together to drag you toward the precipice of earth shattering ecstasy. She looks so pretty on her knees beneath you. In any other circumstance, you'd be the one on your knees at her feet. Serving her. Sighs of amusement break through the strained whines and whimpers that force themselves from your tired throat, the two men still watching every move. Astarion keeps a firm grip on your arms to keep you upright while Abdirak palms at himself through his garb, the rough fabric scraping back and forth over his skin with each pass of his hand. "Such a good girl.. Making me so hard again."

Astarion coos in your ear as a cold hand moves itself skillfully around your side to your stomach, each muscle contracting and shuddering from the frigidity of his skin. He digs his nails into the flesh there to earn a sweet yelp from your swollen, parted lips. It's too much.. Yet, it's not enough. Your cunt aches to be filled again and again and again, the stimulation against your clit simply not enough to get you there. You want to scream. Want to sob and cry and beg for something, anything, anyone. Shadowheart's tongue moves in mind numbing circles around your entrance and you keen at the sensation, mouth hung open as you pant heavily. Air evades your lungs. You can't breathe, can't see, only feel. Every sensation heightened by the echo of disgusting noises ringing all around you in the small stone-brick room you stand exposed in. Astarion's coos and praise, Abdirak's grunts of pleasure as he works himself to his own end only to deny himself just as his knees give out and he topples to the ground before you. Shadowheart's little slurps and whines at your taste raise goosebumps on your skin by the millions. A symphony of vile sounds and sights that would make any normal person recoil. Not you.. Gods, not you.

The tadpole nestled comfortably behind your eye wriggles with excitement as your deepest desires are projected loud and clear to your lovers, Abdirak excluded of course. Something clicks and the vampire spawn stares down at the half-elf over your shoulder, both exchanging a single nod before Shadowheart moves herself away from you, leaving you whining loudly. Instead, she takes up a spot next to you against the wall - hip to hip. She places her hands firmly against the brick and taps her fingers there, feet spread to match your stance. Astarion releases your arms and instructs you to place your hands beside Shadowheart's. You obey, side pressed tightly to Shadowheart's to absorb any warmth you possibly can from her, every limb trembling. "The two of you look so lovely for us.." He mumbles, helping Abdirak back to his feet. "Your choice, human. Pick one."

Abdirak eyes the two of you for a moment, fingers tracing over the globes of Shadowheart's ass and across to yours, earning a wince as his fingertips graze over the still agitated bruises and cuts from his previous assault. He purrs with elation as his fingers pass back over your cuts and your back arches inward at the burning sensation.

"P-Please.." You whine.

"I choose her. She'll cry so beautifully for me, just as she did before."

Abdirak moves behind you and presses himself firmly against your ass, a careful and skilled hand crawling its way up your back and into your hair. You can feel the steel firm erection hidden beneath his garb and Gods, he's larger than you anticipated. Your hole aches to be filled by him in that very moment. Now. Now, I need it now! It's as if Abdirak can hear your silent please to be stuffed full, for without warning he slips his index and middle finger deep inside of you and wiggles them around, spreading them to stretch you open. To prepare you for what's to come. He, himself, lets out a strained grunt at just how wet you are; By the Gods, you're dripping. Abdirak's name slips past your lips like a prayer, over and over and over until it no longer sounds like a real word. From your side, Shadowheart giggles at your desperation, a sweet symphony of her own moans echoing through the chamber as Astarion kneels behind her and works his tongue into her soaked cunt.

A gentle hand slides over the rough brick and on top of yours, fingers intertwining at the back of yours to both hold you against the brick and to keep herself steady. The sounds she makes.. The way her back arches and her chest heaves as Astarion's tongue plays her like the finest harp.. She's heavenly. The princess of darkness glowing in the dim lanternlight of the dilapidated Selunite Outpost; how ironic is that? You can't help but grin at her as you watch her fall apart at your side.

"You sing so well for me, Princess."

Astarion moves to his feet again and lands a loud smack to Shadowheart's ass, an immediate handprint raising on the pale flesh. A trophy. A reward for her beautiful noises and how well she behaved as Astarion devoured her where she stands. The display beside you only makes you yearn for more. Yearn to be filled and pressed into the brick until you're a sobbing, drooling mess. To test the waters, you push your ass back against Abdirak and wait for his reaction. He responds with a smack of his own, much louder and most definitely harder than Astarion's, a soft sob forcing itself from your lips from the painful sting. Another follows, and then another, and another, until you've lost count and your skin is numb to the touch; bruised and begging to be kissed and nursed back to its normal pallid tone, not the alarming hues of reds, blues, and purples it exhibits now.

"Such a masterpiece of blood and bruises, you are. Loviatar is so proud of you, dear one. Let her hear you one more time, hm? Surely you can handle more."

Your mind screams "No more!', but your body gives you away. You ache for more. More pain. More Abdirak. The vampire spawn and the half-elf can see it in the way you rock your hips from side to side for him, putting yourself on display to coax him to ruin you again and again. Abdirak's hands find their way to your hips and give you an affirming squeeze, nails digging into your skin as a simple little way to inflict yet more pain. His cock throbs against your backside now and a sudden wave of confidence (more like desperation) wills you to grind yourself back against him, earning the softest and sweetest moans from the human's lips. Astarion growls at the sight and lines himself up with Shadowheart. With wine colored eyes locked on you, he slides his cock agonizingly slow into her ready and willing cunt, his tongue laving out over his dry lips to wet them and taste the remnants of Shadowheart's slick. She lets out a sigh of relief at the stretch and gives your hand another gentle squeeze before Astarion is ravenously thrusting into her.

Abdirak groans and lines himself up with you next, cock swiping back and forth to collect some of your slick before he eases it inside of you with a heavy sigh and a firmer grip on your hip. The half-elf to your side grunts and pants with each thrust of the vampire spawn behind her and you can't help but watch as her body is jostled around with the pure force of Astarion's movements. Her cheek presses firmly to the brick and she flashes you a drunken grin. Abdirak slides a hand back into your hair and grips it tightly, pushing your face against the wall to match Shadowheart's stance, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he matches Astarion's speed. The filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echo all around you, moans and soft squelching overwhelming your senses as both you and Shadowheart are fucked senseless. Normally you'd be appalled by the conditions you're allowing yourself be exposed to. The dirt. The grime. The blood and gore scattered around you. But now.. Now there's nothing else to focus on but your building climax and the pretty woman beside you whose lips utter your name even though you have no hand in her pleasure.

"Tav.. Tav.. Tav.." She mutters, and it almost sounds as if it's right in your ear. So close, so gentle, so.. Intimate.

Abdirak's unyielding thrusts continue and that very familiar knot begins to tangle itself in your belly. Shadowheart pulls her hand away from yours and walks her fingers down your torso and thigh, reaching between your thighs to give some much needed attention to your swollen and aching clit. The sound that slips out of you is almost startling, pressure building and building in your abdomen as she circles her fingers skillfully. "Oh god.. Oh fuck!" You cry, tears stinging in your eyes again as you're held just at the edge of your orgasm. A loud sob escapes you and Abdirak groans in response, his thrusts only getting faster and harder. Harder. Harder. Harder. Shadowheart's fingers work themselves toward your entrance where Abdirak and you meet and she slips one inside beside him, reaching carefully so that her palm still works against your clit.

"Oh, you filthy things.."

Astarion coos, still pumping himself roughly into Shadowheart, loud gasps for air showing that he's dangerously close to his end. You're barely hanging on now, the combination of Shadowheart's hand, Abdirak's cock, and Astarion's praises pushing you so so close. Again, Shadowheart utters your name softly, this time even closer to your ear. "Tav.. Tav.. Tav.. Tav!" With a shudder, you let out a guttural yelp. So close.. It's coming.. I'm cumming! I'm-

Your eyes shoot open, star filled sky above you in a haze as you blink the sleep from your eyes, a very confused half-elf and a very amused vampire spawn knelt by your side. You reach a hand up and wipe the beads of sweat that formed on your brow, chest heaving as you prop yourself up on your elbows, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

"Interesting dream?"

Shadowheart asks with a quirked eyebrow, Astarion sat right behind her with a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter just ready to burst from his lungs like water behind a dam.

"Interesting is certainly a word for it."

Astarion lets out a howl of laughter, head thrown back as both hands move up to cover his face. He nearly topples backward as he cackles and Shadowheart can't help but let slip a few giggles of her own, her fingertips pressing to her lips to try and hold them back, to no avail. The air suddenly feels so thick. So heavy around you and you want nothing more than to shrivel up and disappear. Your face burns a painful shade of red and you quickly turn over onto your side, laying your head down in hopes that this was the bad dream, and you'd wake up again with no recollection of this encounter. Or maybe.. You'd wake up in Abdirak's grip again.

**I hope you guys enjoyed!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to pump out.. I've been dealing with a ton of mental health issues and my living situation isn't the best currently, but I am doing my best to get back into the swing of things! Let me know what you guys think! 🖤 **

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #abdirak x tav #astarion x tav #shadowheart x tav #abdirak smut

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esouliie · 1 year

Text

– BLACK GRAPE

– pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

– synopsis: natasha sees a ghost of her past.

– warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

To a stranger, she looked to be nearly whole again. Her laughter was loud once more, complimented by the dulcet tones of birdsong and chimes. Her hair blazing elegantly like the fire of her love, her eyes sparkling like the sky on a July day.

There were no words uttered about Wakanda, the blood and ashes of your loved ones lost. Life before was a fading memory, and the anguish was alleviated by each other's embrace. She'd hold you in her arms and shield you from the harshness of the new world, whispering words of comfort and praise in your hair. And she'd laugh and smile, dazzling and pure. Her purpose was gone; she didn't have the energy to hate anymore. She decided the red on her ledger was no more.

But a melancholy enveloped her, perhaps she fantasised about one more mission. One last shot to prove herself. A silent vow made not to mention her sorrow.

—

Even though half of the population disappeared, the streets of New York were still busy. The two of you were hiding underneath caps, concealing yourselves from the rest of the crowd.

Her hand rested in yours, calloused from decades of combat, accompanied with a little squeeze every once in a while.

You got to know Natasha over your time as an Avenger.

Both having relatable history, you were drawn towards each other. Even though you were cycled into the Red Room after her departure, you had heard of the infamous Black Widow. The one that betrayed Mother Russia for the American dream.

You continue to walk in silence.

The sight of Imperia vodka amongst an array of different alcohols in a store window catches your attention. Alcohol was banned from the compound. A decision made solely by you due to Natasha’s incline to drown her sorrows in vodka. A liquor - familiar to you both- in more ways than one.

In your other hand, was a large soda. Black Grape. You introduced Natasha to the drink, letting her take a sip. Her face scrunched in disgust. Apparently, she could feel already feel the diabetes in her blood. But what was your favourite, soon became hers. Days where you and Natasha would hang out always ended with Black Grape. It was your vodka.

A sudden jolt tugs you from your memory. Natasha’s grip on you tightens. All the muscles in her body solid as concrete. She stares ahead, eyes wide open.

People begrudgingly move around you both, but not without a sigh, or a weird look. You ignore them.

“You okay?” Your voice soft, trying to hide the growing concern.

She remains frozen.

“Hey.” You slide over into her line of vision.

She blinks, diamond tears flutter across her lashes.

“What’s wrong?”

Her eyes dart to you before she extends her neck, standing on her toes to look over the sea of heads. She frantically searches.

She bolts, dragging you along as she weaves through bodies. Apologies tumble from your mouth as you knock into the sides of people.

“Hey, wha-, Natasha!” Your voice lost to the wind.

She stops by the corner, chest heaving.

“I saw Wanda.”

—

Before the snap, Natasha and Wanda were engaged. They were planning a spring wedding, being Natasha’s best friend, you were maid of honour. You even helped in the selection of the rings and the proposal. It was in Canada. The couple had spent the day visiting Niagara Falls and when night fell, they were engaged.

Wanda was among those that disappeared and Natasha suffered deeply. The rings now stashed deep inside her bedside table.

She was always nursing a coffee in the early hours of the morning because she hadn't slept the night before.

She’d lost muscle easily, refusing to keep active or do anything other than lay in her room. You couldn’t blame her though. Once again, she was alone.

Bereavement had been her companion these past few years, a shadow that in time lessened until gone. Because of you.

She was a ghost by the time you decided to say something. Obviously, confronting the grieving woman ended in a heated argument. She forced a slew of nasty names down your throat, but you never yielded. You needed her as much as she needed you.

Months passed, and a new flame of love was lit.

Natasha was hesitant.

Every time you touched, guilt flared in her chest. A part of her believed she had wronged Wanda by pursing this - for giving up on her. You could see it every time she let her guard down. The constant back and forth - pulling you in to push you out - was takings its toll. The anguish in Natasha's eyes began to reflect in yours.

The beginning was hard but you let set the pace. All the cards were on her side of the table. It was up to her if she wanted this.

And now, Natasha sleeps at night.

—

“Tasha.” You have no idea what to do.

What do you even respond to that?

There’s no way whoever she saw was Wanda. You’d seen the witch turn into ash. Accepting her fate, she left comfortably. Natasha was holding her.

It’s been five years and no one has come back. If they did, you two would know.

The rest that remained left. There was no need for them to wallow in the vacant compound.

No hope. No duty.

Some had families to return to.

Some didn’t.

Normally, Natasha would avoid talking about Wanda with you, preferring to keep her past and present separate. However, this time was different.

“I know it’s not her.” A moment passes. “My mind just wants to hurt me.”

You hum in acknowledgment.

“I miss her.” She whispers, her throat constricting.

“I know, baby. I miss her too.” You gently squeeze her hand.

And all of a sudden, everything clicked.

The urge to hold you close and kiss you endlessly overwhelmed the woman.

She wants to make this work. She's had enough of being what keeps her from being happy.

She’s in love.

“I...” She began unsure, goosebumps tingle up her spine. “The guilt is still there. Some days are better than others. But I’m tired of being uncertain of this - of how I feel about you.”

She screws her eyes shut, as if in pain, and tears roll freely. “You’re so important to me, and I want forever for us. I love you.”

A short gasp- only heard between you both- falls from your lips. Natasha’s eyes shoot open. Her head is angled down slightly; a soft vulnerability in her eyes.

She wears her heart on her sleeve, waiting for your reply.

With a newly found shyness, your reach, a thumb strokes a flushed cheek, guiding her chin forward to connect your lips.

The kiss was gentle and meaningful all the same. It meant everything. It was you choosing each other.

“I love you.” You confess, a warm palm still cradling her face.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

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fandomtherapy44 · 1 year

Text

castiel x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Winchester. The sister Of Dean and Sam. We will be starting from season four since sadly we did not get Misha Collins as Castiel throughout the whole series. It will start off as a friendship, but it will grow more as the series goes on. I will be skipping some episodes even though they are great episodes they do not push the story forward. I am so excited to get to write this since they are not many Castiel X reader stories out there. Okay without further due Love War & Grace enjoy the Story.

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Word count: 6,948

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season four of Supernatural

Chapter 1: Lazarus Rising

POV: Y/n

Four months, four grueling long months since I had to, I had to bury my brother. My oldest brother who has always been there for me and my other older brother Sam. That's the thing about us Winchesters we will always save each other. No matter what even if that means giving up our soul for the other, that's what Dean did to save Sam. I still remember that night as clearly as Crystal Sam had gone missing.

He had just walked into a little diner to get us some greasy food for us to make to the next crap motel. I now regret not taking it and truly enjoy the same everyday banter that I got from Sam and Dean. Because the next moment everyone was dead in that small simple diner and Sam was missing, sulfur powder being only left. leaving Dean and me knowing precisely what it was. The next day was a blur getting Bobby’s help and finding out what had happened to the roadhouse and Ash and not even knowing if Ellen was in the wreckage. When we found out where Sam was, I got this rush of hope and peace that everything was going to be okay. I should have known with our lives nothing really happens to inspire those feelings.

Dean was breaking every speed limit to get there of course he was he would for anyone he loved. As soon as the Impala had screeched to a stop, I jumped out running towards the town. Hearing Sam’s voice grunting I ran faster than I ever thought I could. There he was standing as the tall giant that he was hurt but okay. Dean was not that far behind and together we called his name together “Sammy!” “Sam!”.

Then I saw that goofy smile fall off his face as the blade had made its way into his back. In that second it was like the world had stopped and the sounds around me had turned into static. All that I did was fall down on my knees sobbing and screaming “SAM NO!”. Bobby came up behind me and hugged me and whispered “It’s okay’’ trying to hold himself back to be strong for his kids because to me Bobby had always taken more care of us than John had done.

Then there was Dean holding Sam again like he was just that little baby again, feeling like he had failed his father whose words ran through his head at 100 miles saying” YOU HAD ONE JOB PROTECT SAM AND Y/N” and he couldn’t even do that he thought. The next few hours didn’t even feel like that time had passed.

All I focused on was Sam like he was just taking a nap and would wake up saying that he could use some coffee not from the motel room. I didn’t hear Dean and Bobby talking or Bobby leaving. I knew Dean was destroying himself. I just didn’t think he would practically do it. Since my eyes would not leave Sam at all.

I felt Dean kissing my head saying he would be back and the door slamming behind him and the impala roaring away. I just sat there thinking why me, why my family, why did we have to suffer for others to live? Like God had heard me Sam sprung up and gasping for air like he was trying to catch up to the air that had left when it was replaced with that blade. I knew as soon Sam came back, I knew what Dean had done I wanted to cry all over again.

I wanted to scream and hit him, but I understood why he did it. Because he is Dean Winchester, and he would do anything for his little brother and sister. When Sam found out he was rightfully pissed and told Dean we would find a way out and Dean quietly dismissed it knowing not for everything he ever wanted he would let that happen.

The next year we fought and killed demons and monsters, as usual, Sam kept on saying that we would get Dean out. I was already trying to grieve Dean so it wouldn't hit me as much. The Night it happened it didn’t matter that I tried to prepare, it was like deja vu from the year before. Instead, this time we had lost the one person who promised he would always protect us.

And that was a year and four months ago but it feels like a lifetime. So here I am pushing around a four-wheel cart one wheel squeaky and me going down the booze aisle to see my best friends Jack and Daniel. These last few months Bobby and I have turned his house into a bar just without the creepy desperate men and smoke smell.

It seems without Dean Im falling apart he would always make sure I would not drink too much well look at me now hope your proud big bro. When I’m standing in the check out these three little kids run past me. The little sister trips and starts to cry then the big brother comes and scoop’s her up telling her she will be fine. It was like looking in a mirror. I should start going to a new grocery store, so I don’t have to cry every time I drive back. Who am I kidding I would cry anyways.

“Hey Bobby, could you help me with the rest? They had a sale on our favorites so I got a lot” I came in, set the bag on the counter, and got a beer out. “y/n” “Today there was a-” “Y/n!” “What?” I turn around and I drop the beer. It’s like my dreams and nightmares from the past four months had all come true at once. There standing was Dean.

I grab my silver knife and swing the knife at the monster who thought it would be a good day to try me today. “y/n! It’s me” he blocks me and I turn around and kick him square in the chest. “Well, at least you've gotten better at fighting” I scream at him and punch him down getting ready to stab the monster. “y/n! It’s him It’s him!” Bobby says, grabbing me back. At this point, I'm about ready to stab Bobby. I'm so angry.

“It’s me y/n if it wasn’t how would I know that when you were younger and got stood up on your first date you called me to pick you up and made me promise to never tell anyone and we egged the idiot’s house that stood you up after”. I feel the anger start to leave my body and my eyesight starts to become more clear. “Dean?’’ “Yes Y/n it’s me’’ I drop my knife and hug him so tight that he loses his breath for a second.

I am just staring at Dean wondering how my prayers got answered. “Hey y/n I missed you too but your starring and making me feel like I have a giant zit.’’ Bobby answers for me. ”well can you blame her Dean your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you'd been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit -’’ Dean looked like he had been made in a Barbie factory, everything perfect none of his scars were there that he had. ‘’I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject.’’ Dean said.

“What do you remember?’’ I asked. I don't want to hear his answer, but I need to know. ’’Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not…’’ Then I get a little annoyed hearing Sam’s name since he really hasn’t been calling me back.

“Oh I know he’s alive I make him send me his location every week and I told him if he didn’t I would drag his ass back here myself’’. I had already lost one brother I was not going to lose another without even knowing it. I pull at my phone and look at the last message. ’’We haven't really talked but that’’.

Dean looks angry ’’You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?’’. I answered him “He was dead set on it.’’ Dean then looks at us both like we had betrayed him ’’you guys should've been looking after him.’’ Bobby then defends us as he should. ’’we tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For all of us. We had to bury you.’’ Dean of course questioned why he was buried ’’Why did you bury me, anyway?’’

I hesitated to answer because I knew what he would think ’’We wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it.’’ ‘’ Well, I'm glad he won that one’’ I hope he doesn't jump to conclusions that were not good. ‘’He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said.’’ And by his look, I knew Dean had jumped to a bad conclusion. Now Dean looked worried ’’Oh, damnit, Sammy.’’ Oh no, I thought.

’’What’’ Bobby asked. ‘’Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo.’’ I tried to stop his jumping. ‘’What makes you so sure?’’ Dean never looked so sure in his life. ’’You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this.’’ He pulled up his sleeve and there was this branding of a hand mark on his shoulder.

Bobby and I were both shocked.’’It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out.’’Bobby questions when I already knew what he was thinking ’’But why’’.’’ To hold up their end of the bargain.’’ Dean says a matter of factly.’’You think Sam made a deal.’’ Bobby said. “It's what I would have done.’’ ’’ We don’t know it was that it could have been something good.’’ I said with the hope he might think with it for once ‘’Come on y/n when has it ever been something good.’’ of course.

Dean looked all over our makeshift bar. ’’Like we said it’s been some difficult months’’ I said trying to defend us. ‘’ You never drank this much before’’ I kind of just laugh it off. '’well when both of your brothers die in horrible ways, I don’t think there is much else to do.’’ Dean looks hurt for a second.’’ Y/n-’’ “It’s okay Dean let’s just find Sam’’ I say, giving A small smile to him. ‘’ Ok, he answers with hesitation.

‘’Ok, his location is Pontiac, Illinois. He should still be there I just got this text yesterday.’’ Dean looked a little shocked.’’ Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois.’’ Bobby realizes it too.’’ Right near where you were planted.’’ ‘’ Right, where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?’’ We all get ready to go and I take a moment to myself still trying to process Dean's back from Hell and that someone has to be listening in heaven …right?

We all walk down this dingy little motel hall and I would not be surprised if there are some mystery stains on it. We Knock on the door and a young woman answers looking at us like we're missing something.’’So where is it?’’ she asked. We all look confused at each other. “Where's what?’’ I asked with a kind smile. She looked annoyed. ’’The pizza... that takes three people to deliver?’’ when Dean realizes no way this is Sam’s room said ’’I think we got the wrong room.’’ Then we hear the voice that belonged to my other brother who acted like he was dead and never would respond to me.

’’Hey is…’’ Sam looks at Dean like he saw a ghost which would not be a crazy theory for us. Dean being Dean says ‘’Heya, Sammy’’ Sam looks happy For a Second then he attacks Dean.’’Who are you?! Sam shouted. Then Dean shouted back “Like you didn't do this?!’’ then we hear his response and it was the happiest then I've been in a while.’’Do what?!’’ I step in before they start swiping knives again. ’’It's him. It's him. We've been through this already, it's really him.’’

They both step back stare and then hug like seeing each other for the first time in a while which was true. Sam stares at Dean wondering what we all did. ’’I know. I look fantastic, huh?’’ They hug more. Then I think for the woman this must be so confusing.’’So are you two like... together?’’ I answered for them.’’NO no, we are all siblings.’’ Then it got awkward. ’’Uh... got it. I... I guess. Look, I should probably go.’’ Sam suddenly remembers that he was on a ‘’date’’ with her walks her to the door.’’ So call me’’ she said hopefully. Then more sympathy comes from me when Sam said ’’Yeah. Yeah, sure thing, Kathy.’’ she said back ‘’Kristy’’ dang sorry Kathy that just happens when dating a hunter oops sorry I mean Kristy. Sam answers awkwardly ’’right’’.

I can already tell Dean wants to rip into Sam.’’So tell me, what'd it cost?’’ Sam looks amused’ “The girl?” I don't pay, Dean.’’ I grimace a little at that line. ’’That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?’’ Sam looks offended’ “You think I made a deal?’’ I spoke up ’’That's exactly what they think. Sam, please tell them you didn’t.’’ I said when tears start building up .’’Well, I didn't.’’ I got relieved. Dean of course does not believe him.” “Don't lie to me.’’ Dean keeps on going. ”So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this.’’

Then Sam said something that broke my heart all over again. ’’Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?’’ I get angry. ”What do you mean you wished you had gotten to deal!?”. Dean grabs Sam again. ’’There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!’’ ‘’I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry.’’ Dean let Sam go. ’’It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you.’’ I speak up again. ’’Great Sam still has his Soul, Sam What if you had dealt with it? Did you ever think about what it would do to me again!?’’ Sam finally looks at me. ”y/n Im sorry it's just I couldn't let Dean die.’’ ‘’ What and you're any better to die!?” I don’t let him answer and I storm out and slam the door behind me.

I ran out of the motel trying to not scream out so people wouldn't think I was insane. So instead I kicked the Impala. I didn't care at that moment. I slid down the car just crying. Sadly I knew why Sam had done it hell I might have done it myself if Bobby and I weren’t busy keeping up our bar. And it’s like someone knew that I was in distress and put their hand on me calmly. It’s a little bit funny with the job I do because before Dean died I didn't really believe in heaven, angels, God. But I thought why not try. I mean it might be possible, demons were real. So I prayed to something and it looked like something answered back.

Sam’s POV:

The boys all were silent for a Second after she left the room Dean speaks first. ’’You know she’s right it’s not any better if you die, to her were some of her only family left and you didn’t call her back what was more important than your little sister!’’ Sam looked irritated ’’I was grieving you Dean I was trying to not totally destroy myself, so I needed some time away I'm sorry.’’ Sam said lying straight through his teeth wishing that Dean doesn't notice it. ‘’Well yeah, but I'm not the one you need to say sorry to.’’

Y/n’s POV:

I walked back to the room calming myself so that as soon I walked in, I wouldn't slap Sam. I walk into Dean picking up a lacy bra and saying. ’’Oh yeah. I really feel your pain.’’ They all stare at me like a deer in headlights. ’’So, this is why you couldn't pick up the phone because ‘’Kathy’’ needed a bra fitting.’’ I said ready to slap Sam again, calm be damned. Sam gets the guts and looks at me ’’y/n I'm sorry I was just grieving, and I needed to have some time to myself and for the deal, it was right after I was running high on emotions, and now realize how dumb I was, and how happy I am it didn't work.’’ I look up at his goofy smile and bring him in for a hug. “You're forgiven but don't ever do it again. And I hope you all know it hurts just as well if any of you would God forbid die, I love you all.’’ They all get smiles and responded back. ’’love you too y/n.’’

“So, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here.’’ And Dean asked what we were all thinking. ’’When?’’ Sam answered back’ “Yesterday morning.’’ Again, the dots started to connect ’’When Dean busted out’’ I said. Bobby speaking for all of us said '' You think these demons are here 'because of you?’’ ‘’But why?’’ Sam said. I felt like I was in an episode of Scooby Doo but instead of pulling a mask off a monster with some teenagers and a talking dog, we were trying to figure out what pulled Dean out of hell.

’’Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out, and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow.’’ I don’t blame Dean for saying that because it usually is something bad but for once it might be something good well I'm hoping it is.’’How you feelin', anyway?’’ Bobby asked. Dean being Dean again answered ’’I'm a little hungry.’’ I laugh at that I missed his humor. ’’No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?’’ Bobby said a little annoyed at his answer. ’’Or demonic? Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?’’ Dean said.

‘’Listen, Dean, we believe you but no demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned.’’ I said trying to comfort him. ’’Well, I feel fine.’’ Dean said putting his defenses back down.

’’Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help.’’ Sam says and he was right we were all lost on what happened.” I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking.’’ Bobby said he always seems to have an answer for anything. ’’I think it’s worth a shot it has to’’ I say with a little ambition.’’ Hell yeah, it's worth a shot.’’ Dean answered back.

Bobby gets up to call the psychic and leaves the room. Dean gets up to follow him, but Sam stops him” Hey, wait You probably want this back ’’He gives him back the amulet that he always wore no matter the day. Sam wanted me to have it when he died but I couldn't. I just couldn't. “Thanks” Dean said looking happy that his little brother would keep it. ’’Hey Dean, what was it like?’’

Sam asked what Bobby and I had both asked, but I still had this small inkling that Dean could lie about it. ’’What, Hell? I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing.” Dean said again and it’s like he's performing a line to confirm it to himself. ’’Well, thank God for that.’’ Sam said happily that his brother didn't remember hell. Dean answered a small ’’yeah’’ back and I got a chilling feeling that he was not telling us everything.

Dean and I were in the room. He was in the bathroom splashing water on his face and I was making some crappy motel coffee. When I walk past the bathroom he was just staring at himself in Which looks like confusion. In that instant, I wish that he was truly okay and that he was not putting up a front for his little brother and sister.

Bobby got the okay from the physic for us to come. ’’She's about four hours down the Interstate. Try to keep up.’’ Bobby said making me laugh he always did. ’’I assume you'll want to drive.’’ Sam said tossing Dean the keys. We all get in baby like nothing ever did change. ”What the hell is that?’’ I look at the middle of the console and try to hold back my laugh but fail.’’That Dean is the newest iPod jack it looks like Sammy turned baby into a frat car.’’ I said laughing uncontrollably. ” shut it y/n.’’

Dean said half joking half serious.’’You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up.’’ Dean now looks betrayed at a whole different level now. ’’Dean, I thought it was my car.’’ Sam said. Then Dean starts baby up and I laugh even more as Vision starts playing and Dean looks with the most annoyed saying “Really”. Then he throws it back, almost hitting me.” Hey watch it you don’t to damage Sammy’s frat playlist”. I said laughing with a smile for the first time in a while.

It’s been about an hour on the road trip, and I take in every second like it’s last as I make a promise to myself to never take these two for granted again. ’’There's still one thing that's bothering me.’’

Dean said. Sam and I both said ’’Yeah?’’. ’’Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit.’’ Dean said with a bit of a chuckle I personally think it's too soon for those jokes. ’’How'd you guys make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you.’’ He said looking at Sam. ’’Well, she tried. She couldn't.” Dean looks puzzled.

Sam spoke again. ”She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something.’’ ‘’Yeah, and Sam jumped in front of me to protect me from the blast.” I say to answer how I was here. ’’Immune?’’ Dean questioned. ’’Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or us. She left pretty fast after that.’’

Then Dean brings Ruby up. ”Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?” Sam answered. ”Dead. For now.” I secretly celebrated that in my head.’’So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?” Sam answered a little too fast for my liking.”No”. ”You sure about that? Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on.” Dean inquired about that and I don't blame him. ”Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish.’’ Sam said making sure to shut that down. Dean needed to be sure said ”Yeah, well, let's keep it that way.’’ Now why did I get that feeling again that my brother is lying?

As we pull up to Pamela’s house I get this feeling of excitement and fear at the same time. We all get out of our cars and we walk up and knock on her door. A woman about in her thirties answers with a big smile.” Bobby!” she grabs him tight.

The three of us share a look.” You're a sight for sore eyes.’’ Bobby said to her with a smile to match hers. Pamela steps back a little and looks at both of my brothers like they are pieces of meat. ”So, these the Winchesters” she says with approval. ”Sam, Dean, y/n This is Pamela Barnes, best damn psychic in the state” Naturally Dean answered with a flirty “Hey”. Sam answered like the nerd he is with an awkward “Hi”. And I answered with a” Hi Pamela, nice to meet you”. “I like you, I can already tell.” she told me back.

After she looks back at Dean. ”Mmm-mmm-mmm. Dean Winchester. Out of the fire and back in the frying pan, huh? Makes you a rare individual.” Dean took that comment in.” If you say so.” We go in, this is the moment either we confirm it’s something bad or good please God let it be Good.

“So, you hear anything?’’ Bobby probes. ”Well, I Ouija'd my way through a dozen spirits. No one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why.” I questioned. ” So what’s next?” “A séance, I think. See if we can see who did the deed.’’ ’’You're not gonna... summon the damn thing here..’’ Bobby said.

“No. I just want to get a sneak peek at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal.” I was already ready for this to be over with how much adrenal was going through my body without even starting yet. Dean responded with a cocky “I'm game”.

We enter the seance room and Pamela goes to get her crystal ball. Both boys' eyes lay on her lower back. ”Who’s Jesse” Dean says I smack him on the head for it. He looks down at me and I look right back and he backs down. ”Well, it wasn't forever.’’ I am glad she laughed it off because I didn't want him to upset her, by saying that.

Dean goes into what I like to call Flirt Dean mode. ”His loss.” I am starting to get a sense that Papemla is a lot like Dean because she says back “Might be your gain.” Dean looks like a kid in a candy store “Dude, I am so in.” I laugh at his eagerness ”Yeah, she's gonna eat you alive’’

Dean took it as a challenge “Hey, I just got out of jail. Bring it.’’ Pamela passing said to Sam ‘You're invited too, grumpy.” Dean let him know he was not invited.

We are all sitting around the table holding hands as Pamela starts. ”I need to touch something our mystery monster touched.’’ She says as she goes to touch Dean’s thigh he jumps. ” Whoa. Well, he didn't touch me there.” My mistake” she said. Dean then takes off his jacket showing everyone the hand brand. Pamela reaches over, holds the brand, and starts to chant as we close our eyes.

”I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.

I invoke, conjure, and command you, appear unto me before this circle.” I then start to feel this warm glow coming over me like the hand from before. “I invoke, conjure, and command... Castiel? No. Sorry, Castiel, I don't scare easy.’’ Castiel so that's its name. How interesting.

“Its name. It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back.’’ ’’I conjure and command you, show me your face.

I conjure and command you, show me your face.

I conjure and command you, show me your face.”

Pamela keeps chanting. I don't like how this is going. ”Maybe we should stop.” Everything is shaking more. “ I almost got it.

I command you, show me your face!

Show me your face now!’’ I'll give it to her because she is one brave woman.

Suddenly She screams and a powerful white light comes from her eyes’’ Bobby grabs her to the floor and she is sobbing’’ I can't see! I can't see! Oh god!’’ Sam calls Nine one one in the background. So I guess it was a bad thing.

As we sat in the diner I just felt so stupid for thinking maybe it could be more than the shit I have to deal with every day. Dean was ordering for us. I didn't even hear him calling me.”y/n?” “ huh oh sorry I was just thinking about everything. I should have known Dean that it was something bad I should have listened .’’ He looks at his little sister. ”Look y/n it might have been something bad but you thinking differently is one of my favorite things about you don’t ever change that.” I smile at him already falling back into his big brother role.

Sam comes back in with news about Pamela. ”Pam's stable. And out of I.C.U.” “And blind, because of us.” Dean said not wrong.” I groan ”And we still have no clue who we're dealing with.” Sam says.” That's not entirely true.” I looked at Dean with interest “We got a name. Castiel, or whatever. With the right mumbo-jumbo, we could summon him, bring him right to us.” “I agree we can figure out what's going on” Sam looks at both of us.”You're both crazy. Absolutely not.” “We'll work him over. I mean, after what he did?” Dean said back to me nodding with him.”Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull, and you guys want to have a face-to-face ?” I answer for both of us.”You got a better idea?” Sam looked a little offended at that.”Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I followed some demons to town, right?” Dean and I both said “Okay”.”So, we go find them. Someone's gotta know something about something.’’ I mean I guess but I want to confront this thing.

The waitress comes over and places the food in front of us. I thank her. ”Thank you”. She then pulls a chair up like she was going to pour water on herself in stripper style. ”You angling for a tip?’’ Dean says weirdly. “I'm sorry. Thought you were looking for us.’’ She then pulls an uno reverse on us by flashing her eyes black and everyone else does the same. She turns towards Dean. ”Dean. To hell and back. Aren't you a lucky duck.’’ Dean is not backing down. ”That's me.” So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me. What makes you so special?” Dean responded back with one of his zingers. ”I like to think it's because of my perky nipples. I don't know. Wasn't my doing, I don't know who pulled me out. ”Lying is a sin” She said not believing Dean.

”I'm not lying. But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo…” “ Mind your tone with me, boy. I'll drag you back to hell myself.” Sam is about ready to stab the demon I stop him.”No. No, you won’t because if you were you would have done it already. Fact is, you don't know who cut him loose. And you're just as spooked as we are. And you're looking for answers. Well, maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Or, uh, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. Because whoever it was, they want him out. And they're a lot stronger than you. So go ahead. Send him back. But don't come crawling to us when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose.”

I said defending us. Dean and Sam both look proud and probably wondering what happened to the shy girl from before. She tries to challenge that. “I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs.” Dean looks right at her throwing her two punches. He leans down and said. “That's what I thought. Let's go, guys”. We get up to leave and I leave money for the pie and a tip “For the pie.” I said and leave with my brothers.

We walk out of the diner and me feeling like I just took on Godzilla myself. “Holy crap, that was close.” Dean said again, not wrong.”We're not just going to leave them in there, are we, Guys?” “well yeah, there's three probably more and one knife between us”. I answered. Then Sam said something that leaves me with more questions. ”I've been killing a lot more demons than that lately.”

“Not anymore – the smarter brother's back in town.” Dean says feeling protective over us like we were little again.”Guys, we've got to take 'em. They are dangerous.’’ “I mean yes they are dangerous but we are not stupid okay we will get them, Sam.” I said trying to be encouraging. “Y/n’s right. They're scared. Okay? Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here. One job at a time.”

When we got back to the motel I had to get some sleep or I was going to fall over. As I doze off I start to hear this low rumble and the tv turn back to the same static that happened at Pamela's house. I wake to this loud high-pitched noise getting louder and louder I look over to the bed for Sam but the bed is empty.

I grab my gun but it hurts so much that I have to get into a fetal position and hold my ears. While that was going on the glass around me started to shake and break sending shards into my skin. But at the same time, I felt the same warm glow again from before. I thought what the hell? The door bursts open to Dean and Bobby yelling ”Y/n!”. They take to save me from the room.

The three of us pile into Bobby’s truck and zoom down the road. ”How ya doing kid’’ Bobby asked from looking in the middle mirror to me.”Well, except it feels like the looney tunes are dropping weights in my head just great” I said with a bit of sarcasm. “I mean guys I have never experienced anything like that before.” Dean and Bobby both look at each with knowing looks. ”I have when I first popped out it sounded like that.”

Dean tells me. I said what we're all thinking ”What the hell is going on first with you and now me what kind of monster does that?” ”I don’t know but we're going to find out.” He said as he was pulling out his phone. I assumed he was going to call Sam because that was another thing where was he during all of this. I hear his voice speak. ”What are you doing?” “ In my car?” “Well, uh, Bobby's back. We're going to grab a beer with y/n” I look at him knowing what we were going to do. If he was lying now. “Done. Catch you later.’’

“Why the hell didn't you tell him?” Bobby asked. “Because he would just try to stop us.” I answered. ”From what?” “ Summoning this thing. It's time we faced it head-on.” Dean said nonchalantly.”You can't be serious!” I get Bobby’s concern but we need to do this. ”Well, we don't know what it is. It could be a demon, it could be anything.” “ That's why we've got to be ready for anything.’’ Dean said pulling out the demon knife. ”Bobby, you have every weapon for anything in your trunk.”

I say trying to calm down him and try to confirm to myself it’s not totally crazy.”This is a bad idea.” Bobby said,” Yeah, we couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?” I said. “We could choose life” Bobby was not wrong ”Bobby, whatever this is, whatever it wants, it's after me. Maybe y/n for some reason. That much we know, right? We've got no place to hide. We can either get caught with our pants down again, or we can make our stand.’’ Dean said. “Dean, we could use Sam on this.” “Nah, he's better off where he is.” I sigh to myself thinking when would my brothers learn to share instead of lying, probably never.

We found this abandoned warehouse and decide it was the perfect place. At the same time, I was painting sigils and devil traps everywhere. I thought this is it I am going to find out what this thing was and why it felt so familiar and so different at the same time. We were now just waiting for this thing to show its face. “You sure you did the ritual right?” Dean questions Bobby. In response, a look of you you're talking to. ”Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?” I smirk.

Like something heard Dean the walls start shaking violently and the wind gets louder. “Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind.” Dean said. Just then the doors to the warehouse blow open to a man who looks like to me belongs in Men’s Health magazine which is confusing as hell. At the same time, the bulbs of lights are exploding like fireworks.”Who are you?” Dean asks half scared. “I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.” The man answered, well that tells us a lot I think with sarcasm. ”Yeah. Thanks for that.”

Dean said and then takes out the demon Knife and surprises me by stabbing the man. The man barely looks bothered and pulls the knife out like it was nothing. Bobby tries to attack him from behind and the man does not even look and stops the attack and swings Bobby around and toches Bobby and he falls to the floor in a sleep-like state. The man then turns to the both of us .”We need to talk, Dean, y/n. Alone” He said with a determination like I have never heard before.

Dean goes over to check on Bobby glaring at the man.”Your friend's alive.”The man said letting us know. “Who are you” I ask hoping to get an answer to this madness.”Castiel.” Castiel said while staring at me and while staring back it felt like the eyes of a friend.

”Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?” Dean said with annoyance.”I'm an Angel of the Lord.” Castiel answers back with the greatest news ever to me at least.”Get the hell out of here. There's no such thing.” Dean said. “Dean come on with everything that has happened you can't believe that at all?” I ask him ”This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.” Castiel says with thunder striking and the lighting casting giant shadows of wings.

“Well, there's your proof, Dean,” I tell him. He glares at me and turns to Castiel ”Some angel you are. You burned out that poor woman's eyes.’’ Castiel looks ashamed of that. ”I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be... overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that.” He explains.” “ So that was you, why did you try talking to me?” I ask curious. “That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you both could be one of them. I was wrong. I was trying to see if you could hear me as well Im sorry If that hurt you.” He told me while looking at me with those blue eyes. “And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?’’

Dean asked which is valid. “This? This is... a vessel.” Castiel answered. ”You're possessing some poor bastard?’ Dean Keeps on going. ”He's a devout man, he actually prayed for this.” Huh, I thought interesting. “Uh-huh. Y'know, it might've been easier to show up like this the first time instead of all the burning bush crap.” “ Finding a human vessel durable enough to contain me... it's not easy.” Castiel said. He must be pretty powerful if he needs that to happen.”I have that same problem with women.” Ew did not need to hear that from my brother. ”Look, pal, I'm not buying what you're selling, so who are you really?” Castiel looks confused.

“I told you.” I chuckle at that. ”He means why would an angel rescue him from hell” I told him. “Good things do happen, Dean,y/n .” I mean they have to if Dean is standing here alive. ”Not usually in our experience.” Dean answered. “What's the matter? You don't think you deserve to be saved?” Castiel said while looking at him with what looked like sympathy. It also broke my heart. ”Why'd you do it?” Dean asked what we have all been wondering. Castiel responds with the vaguest answer ever. ”Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”

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