#if only the ability to write hadn’t been stolen from me thanks to never ending fatigue and brain fog

[mickey-dobbs]

The feminine urge to buy a sprawling but slightly rundown house in the middle of nowhere where you can wear flowing dresses with no bra and dance barefoot to Stevie Nicks in the moonlight, while you ignore both the ghosts of your past and the ghosts standing in the corner of the room watching you.

[messrmoonyy]

Can I ask for Steven x Avenger reader? I have the idea in my head but I cant write so if you could that would be so awesome. so reader is an ex avenger and has the ability to read minds and maybe Marc and Steven are arguing over taking about readers past and reader reads their thoughts so she can hear them both at the same time? bonus if you could add some smut in too? sorry this is long and only write if you’re comfortable with it. Thank you anyway

Late night talking

Afab reader x Steven Grant / afab reader x Marc Spector ( background )

Not my gif

A/N- I LOVE ME A SUPER SPECIFIC REQUEST. Layla is mentioned but layla and Marc were never married, she’s readers friend. Oh also my first full reader insert one shot and not Drabble ever so that’s fun. Also my first time writing smut in YEARS. Go easy on me.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, afab reader, vague mentions of reader having trauma but nothing specific, DID as shown via the show moonknight and not medically accurate, smut- unprotected p in v , oral ( f receiving ). Think that’s all.

Word count: 4.9k

Masterlist- requests open!

Reblogs and comment greatly appreciated <3

When you woke up it was raining outside. The window open, a bit of a breeze coming through and the sounds of the evening traffic going by outside. Someone nearby was playing music, just far enough away that you could catch the beat but not quite guess the song. Music was playing somewhere in the flat too, and you could hear the sound of pages flicking in a book.

You opened your eyes and stretched, rolling your neck to ease the stiffness that had settled from your slightly odd position. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep for so long, just a quick nap you’d said before dropping off. But the night before you had been up until dawn, studying a long list of stolen artefacts from a dig site.

The boys no longer had Khonshu leering over their shoulders constantly and you no longer had obligations to the Avengers. But after a few months of long awaited normality. You’d actually gotten a little bored. And Layla had convinced you to dabble in the art of vigilante work again.

During the blip when what was left of the avengers had scattered, you’d teamed up with Layla and helped her recover stolen artefacts. Return them to their rightful owners out of the hands of people who wished to sell them on, ruining her fathers work as they did. It was how you’d met Marc. Both hunting for the scarab.

So when she’d asked you to assist her again after all the mess with Harrow…. Who were you to turn her down? You had nothing better to do really… and you were doing a good deed. In a round about way.

A glance at the alarm clock by the bed told you it was 8:57pm. You sighed knowing you’d be up all night again now, but at least you’d had some rest. You pushed yourself up and rubbed at your eyes, spotting what you automatically knew was Steven at his desk. The glasses perched on his nose and the way he was looking down at his book, you’d know it was Steven a mile off.

Marc hadn’t fronted for a couple days, in a sulk because he had wanted to go straight to Egypt again but Layla and Steven had agreed it wasn’t a great idea yet. Apparently the relics that had been stolen had a whole number of rumours surrounding them, curses and spells that shouldn’t be taken likely. Going in blind would only end badly.

Marc thought it was all bullshit, a way to scare away any wannabe thief. You and Steven knew better and decided to do some research first.

Steven hadn’t noticed you were awake yet, nose too deep in his book as he hummed along to the song playing. The room was dimly lit, the light from the fish tank, a string of fairy lights above the bed and Stevens desk lamp the only light in the room.

You slipped out of bed and over to the desk, stretching your arms out as you went. You only had a pair of pyjama shorts and one of Marcs shirts on and the chill from the window made goosebumps rise on your legs. Steven looked up as you reached the desk, slipping around the side to where he was sat. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek

“ hi “ you said softly, smiling at how cute he looked in his glasses.

“ You Alright love? “ he said with a warm smile and put his book down, pulling off his glasses. He pushed his chair back slightly already anticipating you wanting to climb into his lap. Which you did, slipping around his chair and sitting sideways on, looping your arms around his neck “ sleep well yeah? “

“ yeah. Probably going to be another all nighter though, you should have woken me up “ you said with a sigh and reached to brush some of his curls from his forehead.

“ you needed some sleep. Thought it was best to leave you be “ you smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to his nose in thanks.

“ what’re you reading? “ you asked with a nod towards the open book on his desk.

“ ugh traditional tomb curses “

“ cheery stuff “ you said with a tilt of your head, looking over at the book, picking it up with your free hand.

“ Egyptian afterlife stuff is easy but Layla thinks this group had some like mad idea about the afterlife bigger than the standard beliefs. They really wanted to protect their things but they also had these proper crazy ideas about magic, and would curse their tombs and the items inside of it. Like twice as much as what the standard practices were. Thought we should know about them before we go lookin for this stuff, but there’s not much Information beyond the standard practices in here. Maybe Layla will know more. Well. Hope she does. Don’t wanna get cursed now do we? “ he said with a little laugh as he held the other side of the book.

“ she knows just about everything there is to know about tombs. I’m sure she’ll have more information for us “ you said and turned the page “ I’ll book our flights tomorrow “ You noticed him glance towards the picture frame on the desk, a picture of you, his reflection a little visable “ Marc talking? “ you asked.

“ yeah “

“ what’s he saying? “ you asked softly moving your face closer to his as if you could see Marc in the frame too. Which of course you couldn’t, though sometimes you wished you could “ being miserable still? “ you teased, making Steven chuckle. He shrugged.

“ he thinks we’re being stupid and over cautious. He still thinks we should’ve gone out there already “ you placed the book back on the desk and sighed.

“ Marc you might wanna remember you don’t have a powerful healing suit anymore. And even if your did I don’t think it’d work on curses. Research is needed not head first charging into a possible waiting curse “ Stevens eyes remained trained on the frame, obviously listening to what Marc was saying “ go on what’s he saying now? “

“ I’m not repeating that “ Steven said to the picture frame and you rolled your eyes.

“ stop sulking “ you said towards the frame before turning to Steven again “ hes just jealous because we’re smarter and don’t wanna get a fucking curse “

“ right. And so much for us not having protection, you don’t either. You have your little magic thing but… won’t stop you getting cursed. Will it? “ he said quietly.

“ no. It won’t. And it’s not magic “ you said with a smile. He nodded and seemed to be deliberating on saying something else, the familiar look on his face as the cogs turned in his head.

“ talking of your powers…. actually was. Well. Was looking into things about- about your powers and. Is that okay I mean- “ he said suddenly, taking you slightly off guard. You didn’t really talk about it much. After all you’d known Marc first, he had been the one you had told. You just assumed he had told Steven all there was to know.

“ what did you find? “ you asked quietly and looked at him hesitantly. Steven definitely knew the majority of what you had been through, knew how and where your powers came from. Marc, he knew it in all its gritty and gruesome details. But you were always scared to tell Steven everything. You wondered what Marc had told him exactly. Maybe not a lot seeing he’d gotten curious and gone searching himself.

“ well I- Marc had some of your files. The coded ones. And after what Harrow had said back in Egypt. I was just curious I’m sorry “ Harrow had taken great pride in telling Steven that you were not to be trusted. That you were dangerous. You were a little hurt that Steven had gone snooping rather than just asking you. But you couldn’t be mad. You couldn’t blame him for his curiosity.

“ it’s okay “ you said softly. His arm that was around your waist tightened a little, his fingers fidgeting nervously.

“ what they did to you- “

“ Steven.. “

“ y/n. What they made you do I- “ he sighed and glanced at the picture frame again “ do you have… are those memories still in there? Is that why you have nightmares sometimes? “ you hadn’t spoken about your time in Hydra for a very long time. And now see Steven looking so hurt to even think about it? It made your heart ache. You were holding back tears at the look of pure sadness and despair on his face. You nodded slightly.

“ yeah. It’s still in there. That’s my nightmares “ his hand rose up to touch your temple gently.

“ wish I could take it all out “ his fingers drummed lightly against your skin and you closed your eyes for a moment, opening them to see Stevens eyes fixed on you “ just pluck it all out. Throw it away “ he dropped your eye contact for a moment and you knew Marc was talking to him. You hoped he wasn’t mad at Steven for asking. Talking was good he’d been the one to tell you that.

“ you okay? What’s he saying to you? “

“ wants to front “ he mumbled, seemingly fighting to keep him back and out of the metaphorical driving seat. They didn’t fight each off much anymore, quite happy and seamless in their switching. But sometimes, like in that moment, the other didn’t want to let the other out “ he said I shouldn’t be prying “

Stevens brow furrowed and he threw an annoyed look at the picture frame again, clearly Marc wasn’t giving up. You sighed, knowing Marc would just overwhelm Steven if he didn’t give over.

“ let me read? “ you asked quietly, your finger tips slipping into his hair. You never read minds without consent, especially theirs. Steven gave a small nod and you closed your eyes, both hands slipping into his hair to cradle his head. You always got a clearer read on them when you had contact with them. You took a deep breath, your fingertips ready to caress his brain and sort through the chaos inside.

It always took a moment to sort out where Marc began and Steven ended, even more so if Jake decided he wanted to be close to the front- Which was very rare-but once you did it was easy and clear. “ don’t go shy on me now Marc “ you mumbled, tilting your head as if to concentrate more and prod at the correct part of their brain.

He shouldn’t be meddling Marc’s voice flowed over your fingers and into your own mind like warm water.

“ I’m not. I was only asking “ Steven protested, a pout evident in his voice.

“ he’s allowed to be curious. He’s allowed to know. I love you. Both of you… we don’t keep secrets “

You don’t need your trauma digging back up again

“ that’s not your decision to make Marc “ sternness filtered into your words.

He shouldn’t be reading the files. He should’ve asked you if he’s so desperate to know you partially agreed on that but you didn’t want to make Steven feel bad for being curious.

“ maybe you shouldn’t have kept them “

“ I deserve to know to “ Steven spoke up again, his hold on your waist getting a little tighter. Possessive almost “ she’s my girlfriend too “

“ Steven. Calm down “ you sighed.

Fine. But if you scare him? It’s on you y/n your eyes flew open at that, fingers slipping from his hair as you disconnected from their mind.

“ y/n “ Steven grabbed your hands gently as you pulled away. You were always terrified of scaring him, always worried that your dark past would have him running from you. Marc accepted it. His own past was just as murky maybe even more so. But Steven? Marc had let him live a warm and sheltered life. He didn’t know hardships and death and despair. You were always worried one day he’d discover something that meant he’d never look at you the same way again.

“ Steven. I don’t want you to be afraid of me “ you almost whispered, those tears brimming in your eyes again.

“ what? Love, I’d never be afraid of you” he took your hand in his and pressed his lips to your fingertips “ I love you. Powers and past and everythin I- I love you so much. Exactly as you are “ your fingers brushed over his jaw with the hand he wasn’t holding, his eyes locking into yours with so much love and admiration it made your heart ache.

He knew what had happened to you. The things you had done. And yet he still looked at you like that? He had far too much goodness in his heart. Those eyes looked at you as if you were a goddess before him, some perfect being made just for him.

It was different to the way Marc looked at you, similar but somehow different. Marc adored you, loved you with all he had. He just didnt know how to show it as well. Steven practically worshipped the ground you walked on, and was more than happy to show the world that too “ I just want to understand you. You help me when I.. freak out. I wanna be able to help you, yeah? “

You closed your eyes and sighed a little but nodded.

“ I know. I’m sorry “ you cupped his face in your hands “ I love you too. For the record “

“ love you more “ you smiled and shrugged, taking the chance to change the subject. There had been enough discussion of your past for one night.

“ yeah? Prove it “ Stevens eyes flitted over to the picture frame again and you reached over, placing it face down “ don’t listen to him right now. Let him sulk “ Steven nodded and laced his fingers with yours “ focus on me “ the atmosphere had shifted slightly, his cheeks already flushing pink.

“ right yeah. Right “ you smiled at how awkward he still was. With Marc you were constantly fighting him for who was in control of the situation, often losing to him simply because you let him. It was different with Steven. Even now. Even after over a year since you had first met him.

“ or do you wanna. Wanna tell me more about the.. the curses? “ you asked softly, faltering slightly at the way his eyes were watching you now. He was like a lovesick puppy. You knew his answer already. But had to ask.

“ no. Wanna kiss you actually “ a smile pulled at your lips and you nodded slightly, cupping his cheek with your hand and leaning in. He always kissed so gently, like you were delicate and easily broken. It was a strong contrast to Marc. They were both so different. It was what you loved about them. How they showed their love in different ways.

Stevens hand pulled lightly at your hips, pulling you closer but still too nervous to really do anything. You took the hint and shuffled slightly so that you straddled him in his chair. His hands fell onto your hips, kneading gently, your fingers slipping up and lacing into his curls.

You rocked your hips lightly against him, testing the waters on whether or not he actually wanted to do anything other than make out. The way his own hips chased after yours gave the answer you wanted. You could feel him growing hard beneath you and he moaned into your mouth at the friction you were causing. You ground your hips down harder, seeing what sounds you could pull from him.

As usual he soon got more comfortable and his fingers slid under your- well. Marcs- shirt. His lips found your neck, gentle wet kisses to your skin but never ever marking you. That was Marcs job. Steven refused to lay a marking finger on you, Marc liked to litter your body in bites and bruises shaped like his fingers.

“ Steven “ you breathed out as his hands made their way up your back, bunching the shirt up as they went.

“ can I take- y/n- “ his fragmented question came with a light tug to the shirt.

“ yes. Yes please “ it was over your head quickly and he took a moment to marvel at your bare chest. Gazing at you as if you were a piece of art plucked right out of the museum.

“ Steven “

“ bloody perfect you are “ he almost whispered “ absolutely bloody perfect “ he leant forward, pressing more kisses across your throat and down your chest, his hands cupping your breasts gently. Always so scared of hurting. You tilted your head back, hair falling from your face as he took a nipple into his mouth.

You could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, taking note of every sound you made, worshipping every part of you. You ground your hips down on him again, his suckling halting briefly at the feeling, a stuttering breath leaving him. You were certain you’d already soaked through your panties. Maybe even your shorts. He always wound you up ridiculously fast. You wondered if he could feel it.

“ would you piss off for just a bit? “ Steven suddenly grumbled and you looked back to him, confusion on your features.

“ Marc? “ you questioned, fingers raking through his curls as he looked up at you. He hummed an answer, turning to kiss you softly “ he’s listening? Talking to you? “ he nodded “ don’t listen. Focus on me. Okay? “ he nodded again and you trailed your hands down his chest and had his shirt over his head in seconds “ you’re so pretty “ you said softly, knowing it always made him melt. Marc hated it, you said it when you wanted to piss him off and have his way with you. But Steven loved it, had him eating out the palm of your hand.

He keened at the word, a breathy whimper leaving him. He closed his eyes as you held his head and brought him up to kiss you again “ so pretty “ you whispered between kisses, one hand tugging at his curls and the other trailing down his bare chest.

“ y/n “ he almost whined, rutting up against you as your fingers trailed along the waist band of his sweatpants. His fingers ghosted over your shorts, a testing press that made you gasp “ so wet “ he said mostly to himself. That confirmed your earlier query of soaking through the thin material of your shorts. He kissed you again and was tugging at your shorts with more confidence a second later. You helped him wiggle them down your legs, taking your panties with them, before placing yourself back on his lap.

His lips were back on you instantly, nudging his leg up against your now bare cunt as you rocked against him. You were definitely leaving a mark on his sweatpants, but he didn’t seem to care at all.

His thoughts were loud, you weren’t even trying to read him but with your hand on his neck it was impossible not to. Maybe it was because Marc was clearly still trying to push his way to the front, maybe it was because of how intimate the entire evening had been. You didn’t know. But there was no ignoring Marc’s voice as it flowed over you.

Sit her on the desk. Go on you didn’t know whether to laugh or whine. Marc was talking him through it. You wondered how long he’d been guiding him. And if he’d done it before. Steven still seemed hesitant as his hands slid around to hold hips again she’ll like it trust me he didn’t move straight away. Only deepened your kisses, letting you slip your tongue into the warmth of his mouth. You were certain you were soaking his sweatpants now and yet he still seemed too nervous to do anything. Even with Marcs prompts mate you need to touch her. You were going to get yourself off on his thigh if he kept up what he was doing.

It wasn’t like you’d never slept with him before. Gods there had been countless times. But he was always the same. Always nervous. Always gentle and scared. You didn’t know why. It was always in bed too. Marc took you wherever he felt like, any flat surface was good enough for you two. So this was new for Steven. Not that you were complaining.

“ Steven “ you said breathlessly, pulling away and holding his face in your hands “ need you. Need you right now “ that breathy whimper left his lips again and it seemed to urge him forward. He reached behind you and moved the book he’d been reading, with far too much care but you’d expect nothing less from him, before hoisting you up. Clearly taking Marcs idea. You shivered slightly, the cool wood of the desk a stark contrast to the warmth of his lap.

His lips were on you again, but only briefly.

“ can I taste you? “ he asked, eyes wide and practically pleading. You almost moaned just at the idea, nodding perhaps a little too enthusiastically at his request.

“ yes. Yes Steven please “ He pressed another kiss to your lips before dropping onto his knees, never letting his hands leave you. He pulled you to the edge of the desk and carefully pushed your legs apart.

His eyes didn’t leave you once as he pressed soft, wet kisses to your thighs. You clenched around nothing just at the sight. This man would be the death of you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he drew closer, his own hot breath fanning over you and making you shiver again. His fingers carefully spread you apart, His nose brushing against your clit. Your head fell back with a soft whine.

“ Steven “ he was still watching you intently as he licked a slow stripe between your folds, eliciting the most beautiful sounds from your mouth.

“ so good “ he mumbled against you, confidence seemingly drowning him as he began to devour you as if you were his final meal. He’d always been good at eating you out, it was always his favourite thing. To please you. He’d quite happily give you orgasm after orgasm without even bothering about himself. He’d go at it for hours, making you come over and over until you physically couldn’t take it anymore.

“ fuck- Steven- “ you gasped, hands sliding into his hair and tugging on his curls. He looked beautiful like that, giving you every ounce of his devotion, wide eyes still trained on your face “ pretty “ you breathed “ so pretty for me “ he had you on the edge unbelievably fast, even Marc couldn’t bring you so close so fast. And he’d known you far longer. Steven truly was a god when it came to pussy eating. You were certain.

“ taste so good “ he mumbled, eyes still trained on you “ so fuckin good “

When he slowly slid a finger into you you moaned so loud they probably heard you two floors down, even more so when a second quickly followed. His mouth was still preoccupied with your clit, and the mix of his tongue and his thick fingers curling up inside of you was too much. You could never get anything going with your own fingers, but his were magic you were sure “ Steven So. Close “ you whined.

He curled his fingers again, hitting the perfect spot that was your undoing and barely a minute later you were coming. Hard. You clenched your thighs around his head, moans loudly falling from your throat before you could bother to care about the open window. Steven continued to lap at you gently, helping to ride you though it and make sure every single second lasted as long as possible.

As usual he didn’t stop until you pushed at his head gently, too over stimulated for any more. He leant his head against your thigh as you came down, catching your breath. You looked down at him, chin glistening and a dopey lovesick expression on his face.

“ okay love? “ you gave a small laugh and nodded. You ran a hand over his hair and then nudged your fingers under his chin, urging him to stand again. He stood up from the floor and kissed you, making you moan into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his lips.

You felt him grind his crotch against your leg with a whimper, his surely painful erection clearly apparent.

“ it’s hurts? “ you asked, pulling away slightly and he whimpered, a small nod of the head following “ I got you babe it’s okay “ you pushed at his sweatpants, freeing his cock and taking it in your hand. The tip was swollen and red, leaking precum over your hand, you stroked him slowly watching his shoulders slacken slightly at the small relief in the pressure.

“ y/n. Y/n please “ he whispered, eyes scrunched close.

“ do you want my mouth? “ you asked as you placed kisses to his neck, nipping playfully at the exposed skin.

“ need to be inside you. Please “ you smiled at how polite he was, even then.

“ okay baby okay “ You said and nodded, spreading your legs a little further and lining him up at your soaked entrance. His hands fell to your hips, fingertips pressing into your flesh “ look at me “ you locked eyes with him as he pushed in, eyes fluttering closed briefly at the stretch but opening again as you inhaled deeply. He pushed in until you were filled to the brim, moaning into your ear in a way you were certain would make you come again in an instant. His body flush against yours and holding it for a moment.

“ okay? “

“ yes. Yes. So good baby I promise “ you whispered, your hand gripping at the curls in the nape of his neck.

And then he was moving. A gentle pace but so bruisingly deep you knew you’d be aching in a few hours time. His lips covered your skin, his hands roaming as if he wanted to touch every single part of you.

You rolled your hips to meet him, one of his hands gripping tightly at your hip and breathy whimpers leaving his mouth. With your hand on his neck you could hear Marc talking again, but you were too engrossed in Steven to listen to him. But his slight increase in speed gave you an idea of what he had said. It was still an agonising pace though, each long deep thrust hitting that spot just right “ fuck Steven “ You wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping him as close and deep as possible

“ so good. So good for me love. So good” he rambled into your ear, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. He was so gentle compared to Marc. One of his hands grabbed at yours, linking your fingers together, bringing it to his lips and kissing your knuckles “ look at you. Look so beautiful “ you almost wanted to laugh. He was calling you beautiful when he was stood right there looking like that? His curly hair a mess, parted lips all kiss swollen and pink. That was beauty. From the way he looked to the sounds he was making.

His moans went straight to your core, they were your favourite sound on earth. He had been embarrassed at first, but you’d made sure he knew just how much you loved him being vocal. Loved every single sound you could pull from him, every whimper and whine, every moan and stuttered breath. Nothing gave you more pleasure than knowing you making him sound like that. No one else. You.

“ can we- can. Want you to ride me “ he stuttered, cheeks flushing even warmer if that were even possible. You nodded and pressed another bruising kiss to his lips.

He stopped briefly, picking you up and sitting back down in his chair. He always did love watching you ride him.

You held his shoulders, rising almost completely off of him before dropping back down. He seemed mesmerised as he watched you get into a steady pace, rolling your hips against him.

“ so fuckin good look at you “ His hands found your breasts again, squeezing and pinching your nipples before smothering them in kisses “ so beautiful so perfect “ Marc was an ass man, but Steven? He’d have his face between your tits all day if he could. You guessed that was why he loved you on top so much.

“ fuck you’re so good “ you whined, angling your hips so that his cock was so deep inside you it made you see stars. You almost wanted to cry at the feeling of complete and utter pleasure rippling through you.

A familiar pressure was building, tightening inside of you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Thankfully he seemed to be same.

He was still sucking at your nipple but his hands were back on your hips, holding you as he began thrusting up into you.

“ so close Steven. Please make me come please “ you whined and pulled his head up, pressing your forehead to his as his thrusts grew sloppy. His thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing slow circles, revelling in the way your lips parted in pleasure.

“ want you to come for me. Come on love you can do it. Come for me, let me see how pretty you look when you come” that was enough for that pressure to explode, your orgasm crashing into you. Your fingernails dug into his shoulder as he kept thrusting, drawing it out as long as possible, your eyes screwed shut as you cried out his name. Neighbours be dammed.

He slowed down to a deeper and agonisingly slow pace when you opened your eyes again, his hands running up and down your back.

“ almost there. Can you keep going for me love? “ you nodded and brushed your nose against his, closing your eyes as your sensitive walls clenched around him “ knew you could. So good for me “ his pace picked up again and you looped your arms around his neck, as his cock thrust into your sensitive cunt a few more times “ y/n- need to. Can I- inside? “ his broken question was punctuated by breathy moans, his brow furrowing.

“ yes. Come inside me baby I know you need to” two more thrusts and he was gone holding your hips tightly to keep himself as deep as possible. His orgasm wracking his body and shooting hot ropes of come over your walls.

His head dropped to your shoulder as his grip on tou loosened, breathing heavily as he came down. Shaking slightly. You wrapped your arms around him, a hand slipping into his hair. You pressed a kiss to his temple and smiled.

“ you okay? “ you asked softly, running your fingers through his curls and pressing more kisses to his head. He didn’t answer for a moment, just held you.

“ bloody perfect “ he said with a goofy smile, lifting his head from your shoulder and dropping a gentle kiss to your swollen lips. You giggled, shaking your head.

“ goof “ you dropped a gentle kiss to his nose, his forehead and his lips, cupping his face in your hands “ shall we go take a shower? “ he wrapped his arms tightly around you and shook his head, dropping his face into your neck.

“ in a minute. Just stay for a sec yeah? “ you ran your fingers through his hair and wondered if you’d actually be able to stand a shower, your entire body felt like jelly ��� I’m sorry for prying earlier “ he said softly, lifting his head, looking at you with those beautiful brown puppy eyes of his.

“ it’s okay you deserved to know. But you can always ask me about any of that you know. It’s okay “ he nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You didn’t want to talk about it now though and he seemed to get the picture.

“ shower yeah? “ you previous worry about standing was washed away as he scooped you into his arms and carried you into the bathroom with a million whispered I love you’s on the way.

[stygianheart]

Fear of Sharing

*staring at ao3 as I try to learn how to publish a chapter* how the actual craphorns do I work this? HTML— I dunno how tf to do that—

Warning, very long rant coming up. Highly doubt anyone will read it but still. Short summary is: as a person who is currently in the process of publishing a book, I am paranoid due to past experiences of being accused of plagiarism when it was my work stolen, and being told that my writing is nowhere near good enough for the public eye. But I started to share my stuff again! So thank you to all who like my stuff!!

꧁———————————꧂

I have, like, the weirdest fear of sharing my writing. Which is funny, cause I’m currently physically/officially publishing a book and and hell, that’s definitely sharing my writing to the world.

I love writing. I’ve been writing stories since kindergarten, but I’ve always been afraid of sharing it. I think that’s coming amongst writers, because we don’t want to be told that our writing is horrible. When I got my first rounds of edits and feedback from my Editor, I refused to look at the paper until my friend read it out loud for me. I was so scared about getting possible negative feedback that I didn’t even think there would be any positive. (Which turned out to be wrong, almost all of the feedback was complimenting me and my ability to write flowing and easy dialogue, captivating scenes, a fascinating world and likable characters. Which is absolutely astounding in my opinion, I never thought I was that good.)

But it’s gotten to the point where the only people outside of my editor I share any my writing with is my close friends, who, as much as I love them, have a biased opinion. They’re literally my best friends. And I’m especially paranoid of sharing ideas with people, and for good reason.

Few years back, I had this idea for a story I was going to write for fun and for a school project, and it really was a clever idea. I don’t remember much about it anymore, because that was five years ago, but I do know that I shared it with people because I wanted someone else to be excited with. That was a horrible idea, because someone told someone who ended up stealing the idea as a whole. They stole the plot, stole the characters, stole the setting, and submitted it before I submitted mine. I was later accused of plagiarism because I happened to turn my story in a few days after the other person and I had to rewrite the whole thing from scratch. Being accused of plagiarizing a fellow student, who in truth stole it from me, made me realize I shouldn’t share my book ideas. And I guess that grew to a paranoia to not share my works entirely, because even if I have copyrighted it and everything is legally mine, I have the nagging believe that someone is going to steal it. In which I found was perfectly capable of happening. Just 2 years ago, I made a whole book and published it to an online site that, regretfully, does not offer the ability to copyright. I mean, it IS my own wiki on Fandom, so of course it doesn’t. Silly me. I later found a scholarship for people who submitted their own works—poetry, books, short stories, etc, and as a person who desperately wanted to be a English Major for creative writing, I submitted the book. (I named it You Can’t Go Back Home Again, and it’ll be up on my WattPad some day when I have the time.) However, a few weeks later, I received a email that told me I was disqualified from the scholarship for plagiarizing my book. A few online friends dug into this for me and as it turns out, someone had the audacity to take my book and publish it on their own platform. And they claimed it as their own. This person hadn’t entered the scholarship, thankfully, but the idea that I had stolen someone else’s story was still enough to get me disqualified. I was luckily able to fight back with evidence that the story was in fact mine, but I had still been taken out of the scholarship. (Summary: People who plagiarize are wetsocks and limpnoodles.)

So of course paranoia began to settle into my mind about sharing works online or with people. And since then, I’ve rarely shared something I made, out of fear of it being stolen and out of fear of it flopping terribly. Making the decision to publish my own book was a huge one that induced a lot of anxiety, but in the end, my desire to share my work overcame my fear of sharing it and being falsely accused of pirating. But as mentioned before, I was also afraid of my work crashing and burning.

I have been told once that my writing sucks. That it has no reason whatsoever to be available to the public eye. That it was “overly dramatic” and had too much “forced humor.” And sure, that was when I was in 5th grade and my writing style was beyond dramatic and over exaggerated, but it’s stuck with me since. I do try my best to add some humor into what I write, because a lot of the shit I come up with nowadays is extremely dark and needs some humor sprinkled in there so readers don’t go into a depressed mood (which is what my mom told me, not my words.) I’ve gotten complaints that I write mostly about male main characters and that there’s already enough of that in the world, I need more female characters. I definitely got an angry reaction when expressing the idea of making the only ‘girl main character’ in my book go through a gender-questioning arc later on in the series before coming out as a demigirl, telling me that as a biological woman, it’s my duty to write about women. (I’m non-binary, but I am AFAB.) And it’s been pointed out that a lot of my OC’s are queer and that I need to add some variety to it. I’ve noticed these things, yes, but it’s a part of how I write. Yes, a lot of the main characters in my books are boys/men/males. Yes, 9/10 times the main characters are gay. (I’m gay, what the fuck do you expect, you little judgmental wetsocks.) None of that means my writing and stories suck, but they’re excuses and reasons I’ve been told on why my writing sucks.

So in summary of my last few paragraphs, I’m scared of sharing my writing due to past experiences of being falsely accused of plagiarism and being knocked down by hateful people. So when I got just 1 like on my 3 am KobyLu fic, what remained of my little pride to share my stuff skyrocketed. When I checked on it the other day and saw a reblog and 14 likes, my heart was literally singing. And then I got a fic request from someone who said they loved my writing and wanted me to write a story for them. (I came off as “pffft nah” but Anonymous, that really made my heart cry out in joy.) The fact that people on here, complete strangers, liked my stuff that much meant the world to me. So I decided “hey, I think I’m going to start sharing my shit again.” I reopened my long since abandoned WattPad account and started uploading a story I wrote. I created an official ao3 account just so I could write the fiction request. And while I’m still terrified of sharing, just so much as 1 like or 1 reblog sends my minuscule ego flying up the roof.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still scared shitless of sharing my stuff. I write for the fun of it, really, but getting positive feedback and likes on something that feels like a part of my soul means the world to me.

Basically, this whole damn long post was a call out to the people who’ve liked my KobyLu fanfic and requested for more. You truly don’t know how much that meant to me, that my work so much as even crossed your forum and you liked it.

And thank you to all of the future peeps who will hopefully like the uprise in writing that will appear on my blog!

[goldengoddess]

you’re my home - kaz brekker

pairing: kaz brekker x heartrenderi!reader

request: hi!can i request a kaz brekker x reader where they were childhood friends but she had to leave because she was a grisha, and later at the fete they see each other again and she ends up helping the crows?thank you!!have a great day!

a/n: hey i hope this is what you like! i based it more off the show and just switched things around,,,, this is absolutely cheesy and i hate it and i didn’t know how to end it pls forgive me omg

warnings: normal heist stuff, like one curse word?

kaz brekker had changed since the last time you saw him. 

to start, he was taller. he’d grown at least two feet. he’d also grown into himself, he didn’t look like the lanky boy that you had once pulled out of the garbage can that one time. and he had a noticeable limp, something that he hadn’t had when the two of you had last talked. his clothes were different too, he was wearing a little palace guards uniform. 

but you knew who he was anyways. 

his voice was the same, the same comforting sound that invaded your dreams on a good night and had you screaming on a bad night. when you heard him whispering you whipped your head around in panic. he was leaning down talking to suli girl in hushed and angry tones. 

when had he become a palace guard? you wondered to yourself, how hadn’t you noticed before? why was he in ravka of all places?

a silly thought came into your head, was he looking for you?

but you pushed the thought away, moving close enough to listen but not to get caught. 

“take your position” you heard him say to the girl, also in guards uniform.

she moved away silently, too silently. 

kaz straightened himself and surely enough turned his head in your direction.

his eyes were also the same. they were the same color the same look. but they were hardened and cold. the eyes of a boy who had done everything too survive. even the things that he didn’t want to do. 

his face was shocked for only a fraction of a second before he regained his composure and faced the rest of the room. standing straight and poised like any of the other palace guards.

had he not recognized you? no, that couldn’t be it. the two of you had grown up together, yes you had changed but not enough that he wouldn’t know who you were. maybe he resented you. for leaving. for being grisha. for having been taken away and saved from the streets of ketterdam unlike him. 

you remembered the day they had taken you away.

you and kaz were huddled in the corner of the room away from the rest of the kids your age. 

the two of you were been inseparable. stuck together like glue, everyone said.

both of you worked the shitty jobs in the barrel. the ones no one else wanted to do. you ran around the streets delivering packages and messages. you would clean up anything that needed cleaning. the two of you were survivors.

kaz never talked about his brother or how he’d ended up working the streets like this, but you knew, even then as a little kid, you were all he had. 

but nothing good ever lasted for little kaz brekker.

when the grisha examiners landed in the harbor of the city, all of the children running around making trouble on the street were forced to get tested.

you and kaz weren’t any different. 

you tried to hold onto him as the adults gripped to your arm, testing your for abilities in the small science. when they determined that you were grisha, and promised you a wonderful life at the little palace, they had to rip you from kaz’s arms.

the both of you were wailing and protesting, saying that you wouldn't go anywhere without the other. but eventually the fight left you and you let them drag you away from your only family to a country you didn’t know 

you snapped back to the reality of the party going on around you. kaz still looked stoic and unphased a few feet away from you, as if your presence didn’t affect him at all. 

but his presence affected you tremendously. 

you had whined and cried when you first made it to the palace but you had loved your life here. being surrounded by other grisha, other heartrenderers. people who could do the same things as you. understood the need to use your powers. and you couldn’t deny how comforting it had been to settle into a life where you didn’t have to worry about whether you could make enough money to eat. 

you thought of kaz all the time. you thought of everything you had left behind but the only thing that had really mattered to you in that horrible place was kaz. you wondered what had become of the young boy you knew in the years since you had seen him.

just as you were about to make a move to talk to him, two squallers were storming in the direction of kaz and the silent girl he had been talking too before. 

the two of them shared a look and started walking in opposite directions. kaz walked past you, sparing you the fastest look ever. a look no one else would have even noticed. but you did because kaz brekker, your child hood best friend was finally in front of you. 

the hurried and suspicious steps of your fellow grisha, set off an alarm in your head. even when the two fo you were little, kaz was good at getting out of sticky situations. he has a gift for scheming and the sleight of hand.

he was here on a job, you concluded.

you waited a few seconds and then snuck away, following kaz out of the room where the main events of the fete were taking place. 

you walked in just in time to see the inferni make a move to attack kaz. you raised your arms and the grisha dropped like a stone. kaz turned around in a fighting stance and froze when he saw you. he kept his hands in fists, as if he was waiting for you to attack him too. 

you dropped you hands, “what are you doing here kaz?”

he dropped his hands as well but you could tell he was still on guard and looking for a way to leave the room.

"i don't have to explain myself to you” he all but growled at you.

you stepped away from him, like his words had physically wounded you.

he seemed to regret the words and took a couple of steps closer to you. 

“i’m here on a job and i really need to go find my team so if you’ll excuse me” he tried to move to the door that was behind you. 

“let me help” you said, almost desperate. he had just come back into your life, and yes it seemed like he resented you but you couldn’t let him go just yet. 

he looked at you skeptically but nodded his head, “i need to get to the courtyards with the carriages. can you take me there.”

you nodded and started leading the way. you turned through many different hallways, moving up and downstairs. every now and then you held up a hand for kaz to stop, as you listened for a heartbeat nearby. 

“you’re good at that” he mumbled, gesturing towards your heartrender movements. 

you nodded your head, a shy smile. “yeah i’ve had a lot of practice here.”

his face turned gloomy at that and you realized you had said the wrong thing. “yeah. i know” he said curtly. 

you stopped for a minute, turning to look at kaz in the dimly lit hallway.

“i’m sorry i left okay? i know it hurt you, i can only imagine how much it must have sucked. it was horrible here at first, i missed you every day. but i will not apologize for enjoying myself here and taking advantage of what i was taught. i like it here. i have friends, and a life, and im good at what i do and i will not allow you to make me feel bad about that.” you said all in one breath.

kaz didn’t say anything, choosing to look down at the floor instead of you. 

you sighed and took a step closer to him, you noticed he still wore the black gloves similar to the first pair that you had stolen for him when you two were younger.

“kaz,” you said, your voice shaking, “i missed you so much. i still miss you and you’re standing right in front of me. i get why you hate me but i really don’t want you to. so that’s why i’m helping you, that’s why i’m going to get you out of here without getting caught.” 

you turned on your heel, prepared to continue to lead him away. but before you could get away he grabbed your hand and spun you back around. 

he flinched at his own action and let go.

“i don’t hate you y/n. i get why you enjoyed yourself here, this over a life of petty and dangerous crime? of course this is the better opportunity but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when you left.”

you bit your lip and nodded your head in understanding. 

he looked directly into your eyes, “i knew you would be here but i thought, hey what are the chances of actually running into you. having to see you happy and having to live with the fact that i never came to look for you.”

you took a step closer to him, “kaz i don’t blame you for not coming to get me, i wouldn’t have wanted you to anyway.”

he looked at you and for the first time he looked desperate. kaz brekker was never desperate. and if he was, he didn’t show it.

“come home with us” he said.

you raised your eye brows in surprise.

“come home with me” he corrected, looking at the wall to avoid your eyes

it was the same voice he had used all those years ago, when he was begging for you to stay. he wanted to you stay with him. to come home. to go back to the place that had broke kaz and would probably have broken you.

but it was kaz.

but ketterdam wasn’t your home anymore.

kaz had been your home, but was he still?

the two of you stayed silent. there was still so much the two of you needed to say. how you had probably loved him as a kid. how you probably loved him now. how you regretted never writing, never trying. how you missed ketterdam. how this place would be perfect if kaz was here with you. but there wasn’t enough time or courage to say those things.

so instead, you raised your arms in your fighting grisha stance and smiled at him.

“how about we get you out of here first and then we can decide is i become a fugitive of ravka to go play crime boss in ketterdam?” you teased.

he almost gave you a grin and you continued walking, a new found peace settled between the two of you.

kaz brekker in the little palace, who should have thought.

[miraculouscontent]

Hi, Adrien is handed things on a silver platter whereas Marinette has to work for them.

First thing’s first is just the concept of the love square. Chat Noir gets to interact with Ladybug no matter what because they’re heroes. Ladybug - who carries the weight and responsibility of heroism without getting benefited from it - is required to go to every battle due to her purification ability, and Chat Noir of course is going to show up because he loves both flirting with Ladybug and the freedom of being a superhero.

In addition, Adrien got his miraculous by helping Master Fu up (something that would be expected out of any semi-decent person; by the way, yes, I know the “””significance””” of the action, and it’s silly), whereas Marinette saved him from being hit by a car.

Adrien was allowed back in school with still no explanation from Gabriel (especially since he’s Hawk Moth) as to why he thought it was a good idea to send his son to a school where the very first akumatization had happened. It was Adrien’s goal for the episode alongside making friends, and Nino offered him friendship out of pity when Adrien sulked about how Chloe was the closest thing to a friend he had.

Chat crushes on Ladybug because she stood up to Hawk Moth in a speech dripping with confidence, caught what seemed like hundreds of akuma, and came up with a plan quick enough to save Mylene and Ivan from falling to their deaths from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Marinette (who Chat fell in love with one side of first, mind you, so already this is to his benefit), meanwhile, crushes on Adrien because the narrative gave her a falsehood about him never having any friends (i.e: no Chloe) and he gave her an umbrella while he was ten meters away from his actual ride (like with Fu, again, any decent person--).

Chat’s crush on Ladybug makes things harder for her because it causes him to throw tantrums mid-battle, get distracted and distract her because he’s busy flirting, all of which make her feel guilty for not returning his feelings. Marinette’s crush on Adrien makes things hard for her again because it causes her to embarrass herself while virtually everyone who knows teases/mocks her for it, their opinions of her even being dragged down due to the crush (see Alya with the Lila situation).

Chat is shipped with Ladybug by Parisians everywhere and Alya delighted in taking a picture of them kissing (that got posted on the Ladyblog without Ladybug’s consent). Likewise, the other LadyNoir kiss (that Ladybug had to do to free Chat from Dark Cupid’s control) was shown on live TV for all watching to see. Marinette’s kisses with Adrien, however, were either wiped from the timeline (in which Adrien got to keep a secret from her so he could date “””Ladybug”””) or used to humiliate her because Adrien was attempting a prank.

Ladybug realizes that Chat is in serious about her, not because he told her himself, but because he relayed it to Marinette who happened to be Ladybug. Marinette, on the other hand, has spent 3+ seasons attempting to confess her feelings to Adrien or make advances on him, all of which ended in some form of failure and some of which through no fault of her own.

Chloe shoved her in “Bubbler” (Adrien didn’t even check on her) and then Nathalie crushed the note she’d written on a scarf that Marinette put tons of time and effort into, leading to Adrien thinking it was from his dad.

“Copycat” was accidental and came on too strong, requiring its deletion.

She got distracted by Alya and forgot to write her name in “Dark Cupid,” her letter only further solidifying Chat’s crush on Ladybug.

She kept getting interrupted in “Gamer” after Alya chided her for using the event to get with Adrien (despite Alya doing the same thing for Marinette during the film in “Horrificator” while Mylene was MIA).

She wasn’t able to tell Adrien about Lila’s thievery in “Volpina” because the grimoire had to remain a secret.

The hat in “A Christmas Special” got given away within minutes and then not even brought back on-screen by Miraculous Ladybug (Adrien never even thanked Marinette personally for it).

Kagami came out of nowhere to take the fencing spot in “Riposte.”

Deciding not to make schemes only led to her embarrassment in “Gigantitan.”

She got made fun of and the notes all conveniently looked the same in “Backwarder,” leading to her mixing them up.

The macaron for Adrien (that Marinette would prepare every week) never got eaten by him and ended up causing the akuma after Chloe had emotionally manipulated Marinette into scheming with her.

Practicing on a statue (as per Tikki’s advice) in “The Puppeteer 2″ humiliated her when Adrien revealed himself as the statue.

She was embarrassed during the party in “Party Crasher” because she was pressured into dancing without her consent.

The timeline had to be reset in “Chat Blanc” and she had to lie to her friends that she hadn’t given Adrien the gift even though she’d actually succeeded, while the hat she made just for Adrien got written off as a gift from a random fan (which is an even worse fate than the scarf).

The confession in “Felix” was deleted by Felix himself before Adrien could see it.

And Adrien, meanwhile? Ohhhh boy, lemme tell you about Adrien.

He gets put into suggestive/close positions with Ladybug on many, many occasions, all for “free.”

He got a kiss from Ladybug in “Dark Cupid” that, remember, got photographed and put on live TV.

He got to goad the audience without consequence about he and Ladybug potentially being in a relationship eventually - gaining the knowledge that all of Paris was invested in LadyNoir to thoroughly stroke his ego - and then Ladybug had to act like they were a couple in “Prime Queen” to the point of holding Chat’s hand and saying that they were in love.

Likewise, “Glaciator” featured Ladybug having to act like a couple with him again, now to the point of kissing his cheek, and then Chat got a blush from her after he’d spent a good chunk of the akuma battle pouting that Ladybug didn’t come to the date he set up (that she hadn’t even known was a date because he purposefully withheld that information) despite her telling him that she’d have to see about it because she had plans.

He was reassured in “Anansi” on being “irreplaceable” after he made an unnecessary comment about being replaced by a turtle (Carapace).

He got to carry Ladybug around bridal style and also save her in “Sandboy” and “Reverser” respectively because she was rendered essentially useless without him, then got to save her again in “Frozer” after giving her the cold shoulder for rejecting his feelings.

He’s the one who got told by Marinette’s own parent not to apologize for how he feels in “Weredad” (note that Marinette herself never got this talk from Sabine, nor Tom, which very much could’ve prevented “Crocoduel”).

He got a cheek kiss from Ladybug in “Desperada” after getting to undo the very-much-against-the-rules identity reveal he made to her via Second Chance.

He got to look good in “Gamer 2.0″ when Ladybug was seeking advice from him despite the fact that her and Chat’s situations hero-wise are absolutely, completely, 100% different and he didn’t even try to take that into account.

He got Ladybug resting her head on his shoulder because of what she saw in a deleted time in which he - unbeknownst to her - lied by omission.

A fake Ladybug tried to kiss him on two separate occasions, “The Puppeteer 2″ and “Ladybug,” much to his delight (something to note is that the fake Adrien who went after Ladybug in both “Chameleon” and “Felix” tried to force themselves on her).

He got the “jealousy” moment from Ladybug in “Heart Hunter” and then a hug from Aquabug in “Miracle Queen.”

He received no repercussions for taking Ladybug out on a date (that she wasn’t aware was going to be a date) in “Gang of Secrets,” at best having to apologize for her behavior to the people around them.

He got reassured that Ladybug “couldn’t do this without him” in “Guiltrip,” even to the point of being told that she “probably doesn’t tell him enough.”

He got told by Ladybug that she would never abandon him in “Hack-San” because he was guilting her sulking about how his not knowing her identity would mean that he’d never see her again if she left him somehow.

And before you think this only extends to the romantic aspects of love square, let me tell you now that it definitely doesn’t.

Marinette entered the bowler hat competition and had to defend her own work to the judge.

She ran for class representative and had to earn the trust and faith of her class in “Darkblade” when put up against Chloe’s bribery.

She did whatever she could to make sure Juleka got her picture taken in “Reflekta.”

She had to actually craft a pair of glasses suitable for Jagged Stone in “Pixelator” and then make a gorgeous album cover for him in “Guitar Villain.” (note that this partially led to “Troublemaker” where she was just happily wanting to advertise her parents’ business, and the writers multiplied her Adrien pictures for the sake humiliating her when it was caught on live TV)

She had to work to get ungrounded by improving her attendance in “Simon Says,” because she had been busy being a hero.

She worked to try and get Nathaniel and Marc to get together on a project, knowing it would be good for both of them.

She set up an entire celebration for her bully to try and make said bully feel good about herself in “Malediktator.”

She did Kitty Section’s designs and costumes in “Silencer” and then had to go protect them from being stolen, along with her friends’ music.

She had to wear multiple miraculouses in “Kwamibuster” in order to go against Kwamibuster and get back both the ladybug earrings and the cat ring.

“Gamer 2.0.” Just... “Gamer 2.0.″

She made a whole complex lockbox to protect the Miracle Box in “Gang of Secrets.”

She worked to reach out to Zoe in “Sole Crusher” even after Zoe trashed her in front of the school, going as far as to try and comfort Zoe’s akumatized form.

She had to stand up for the movie to be fixed in “Queen Banana” because no one else would.

She has to work each and every akuma battle as Ladybug, figuring out Lucky Charms that can range from simple to complicated, while simultaneously dealing with a partner who relies heavily on her plans and will occasionally make things harder by either throwing tantrums mid-battle or distracting her.

And meanwhile...

Chat Noir got to throw the blame onto Ladybug for Theo’s akumatization in “Copycat.”

Marinette covered for him in “The Collector” when he was the one who recklessly lost the grimoire by not being careful with it.

He got handed Fu’s identity in “Syren” after whining to Ladybug, throwing blame on her and trying to bribe Plagg so they’d tell him, threatening to quit while Paris was underwater, and all of this while Marinette herself only got to meet Fu because she had the grimoire on her.

He was given the moral high ground in “Malediktator” despite not having to actually care about Chloe enough to call/check on her.

He got to sit back in “Chameleon” and not concern himself with judgment or comment on the situation with Lila, even going into “Ladybug” where he continues to inform no one about Lila (including Marinette, who briefly believed that Lila came to her senses and was willing to make amends) after Lila got Marinette expelled, despite the complete lack of risk on his part considering who his father is and how harshly Lila would be dragged through the mud if she dared to trash his reputation.

He clumsily trips in “Captain Hardrock” in a fashion that reveals an instrument he happens to play, leading to him getting invited to join Kitty Section within seconds of being on the Liberty. (so when Adrien is clumsy, it’s to his benefit, and when Marinette is clumsy, it’s to her detriment)

He never got called out for distracting Ladybug and digging for details that could relate to her identity in “Kwamibuster” (which, again, forced Marinette to do all the work to fix things).

He got a party thrown for him in “Party Crasher” by Nino, and also guys that Adrien had never put forth effort into interacting with or befriending (Marinette had also been through more with all of them sans Nino).

He got to force Ladybug’s favorite traits of his out of her in “Truth” because she was under the influence of Truth’s powers.

He got off the hook for sacrificing himself in “Lies” by flirting about Ladybug’s “irresistible angry little pout,” and also never got repercussions for flirting with another girl while dating Kagami.

He never had to face consequences for smashing a chimney in “Sentibubbler,” even as he was dismissing the gesture because he knew Miraculous Ladybug would fix it.

He didn’t have to apologize for his behavior in “Hack-San,” whereas Ladybug "had to” for telling someone else her identity (the details of why - i.e: that she was having a mental breakdown and needed a release from it - being completely left out) and not telling him that she was leaving (when she literally hadn’t had time to tell him anything; do note as well that Adrien didn’t have to do the same in either “Backwarder” or “Startrain”).

He received no consequences and was in fact rewarded for allowing the akuma in “Wishmaker” to hit him, a choice that Viperion has to live with because it caused him to see both Ladybug and Chat’s identities (meaning now Luka - someone who, like the guys in “Party Crasher” - Adrien has done virtually nothing for - can support Adrien since he knows).

And I could go on, I really could, but my point is that Adrien is given all of the sympathy and sad points while Marinette basically never is. Just like how he was born swimming in money, fame, and adoring fans, the show hands out praises and all the things he’s ever wanted because he’s sad.

He doesn’t have to try. He can whine and complain and vent to Plagg about how “replaceable” he is because the show will mollycoddle him to the moon and back. They’ll put his crush on Ladybug’s shoulders to make her feel guilty while Marinette is over here having to bust her butt just for a chance at Adrien recognizing any semblance of her feelings, and he goes on being blissfully ignorant of them so he doesn’t have to suffer like Ladybug does.

In addition, Marinette has to either be “““making mistakes”““ or embarrassing herself in order to get screen time because the burden of lessons fails upon her, whereas Adrien can be name-dropped without even doing anything.

It’s not just the love square that’s unbalanced, it’s everything between these two. Ladybug is scolded and punished for the slightest act of selfishness while Adrien is encouraged and rewarded for being selfish and demanding things. Marinette has to work to be noticed (and sometimes won’t even get that much) while all Adrien has to do is put on his best sad face and the show will bend over backwards to either give him exactly what he wants or make him the sympathetic one through the narrative.

Even if Adrien had known about Marinette’s crush at the time that Ladybug knew about Chat’s, it wouldn’t matter, because the tipped scales in how they’re treated would still make it so Marinette is the one at fault for “dumping her feelings onto Adrien” while Ladybug is still forced to interact with Chat even if his advances make her uncomfortable.

[emmyhem]

always (l.r.h) part two

a/n: hi everybody! here is always part two, this is actually one of my favorite writings and one that I was looking forward to writing and posting a lot. it’s another angsty piece but with a sappy happy ending :) also it’s unedited but what else is new. i’ll probably post again tomorrow either a bestfriend!calum piece or a roomate!luke piece that are titled in my masterlist. i hope everyone enjoys and is having a wonderful day. i definitely am after that livestream today. (i would say that i didn’t cry because of how good and happy they all looked but that would be a lie) anyway i hope you enjoy and as always my messages are always open to chat or whatever and feedback and comments are always appreciated. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: it’s time for you decide whether or not luke’s mistake is worth losing the love of your life. 

warning(s): mentions of alcohol, cursing, angst (but with a happy ending), self doubt, insecurity, mention of throwing up 

word count: 2.9k

pt. 1

The longer you watched the window the more you were convinced mother nature was taunting you. The rain droplets that cascaded down the glass mirroring the tears that hadn’t stopped falling since you left Luke speechless in the driveway. It had to be for your benefit, I mean it was Los Angeles. California was in a drought for god’s sake. 

Despite the fact that nature was mocking you, you couldn’t dare pull your eyes away. The alternative was to face the endless voicemails waiting for you on your phone that glowed dimly beside you. You knew you would have to hear them eventually but right now you knew that even a breath, let alone full sentences from Luke would break you in every sense of the word. You feared the sound almost as much as the content behind it.

 You weren’t ready to be okay, you needed to wallow in your pain for a bit longer. As bad as that sounds you knew it was the only way you could convince yourself to let him back in, to forgive him. It was also the only way you could forgive yourself. Your body needed to feel how tortured you were without him, how much you needed his affection, his love, and him. Not his money. 

Part of you knew deep down that Luke didn’t mean what he said, the part that awakened the butterflies that had taken permanent residence in your stomach since he had entered your life. The part that caused all your senses to align when Luke kissed you the night you finally understood what it meant to love someone with everything you have. The same part that was clawing at your heart right now as your mind replayed the look of pure devastation that was painted on Luke’s pretty features as you drove away from him. That part was itching for you to run to him, to cuddle into his embrace and say “I forgive you. I’ll never leave you again. Love me?” 

But, it was the other part of you that was causing the problems right now, the part that snuck up on you each time you felt secure in yourself and tore it all down in seconds. The part that told you there was no way you were good enough for your boyfriend when you stared at your reflection in the mirror for even a second too long. The part that Luke was typically the one to silence when it overwhelmed you in a crowded room, with just a tender kiss to the forehead, or squeeze of your hand. The same part that constantly craved for Luke to be proud of you the way you were of him in anything he decided to pursue. That part was completely shattered last week when, whether intentionally or not he showed you that not only was he not proud, but also felt burdened by your lack of brilliance. 

“Y/n,” your friend called, breaking you from your self-loathing thoughts as she approached your brittle body, enveloped in every single fuzzy blanket you could get your hands on. 

“Hi.” you croaked, pulling your stinging eyes from where they had settled on a particularly large rain droplet that had stolen your interest as you wondered how much more water it could withstand before it burst from its flawless embodiment and shattered to the sill below. You wondered the same about Luke, how much more of your insecurity and emotional baggage would it take for him to burst. How much more of your mediocrity could he compensate for before you began to strip him of his excellence? 

“Have you talked to him yet?” she inquired, eyes going soft as she looked at you with sympathy. 

“No.” you groaned, pulling yourself up. “Do I have to?” 

She shook her head, dismissing you. “You know that you’re welcome here as long as you want, but anyone could tell that you’re completely miserable without him, even if he is being an epic prick.” 

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around your best friend.

“Am I an idiot for wanting to forgive him?” you spoke into her hair. 

She returned the embrace and settled next to you in the bed, “I think if he really is sorry then you’re incredibly strong for it. And you’re never an idiot, that would be your blonde haired beau.” 

You laughed softly at her innocent dig, the giggle catching slightly in your throat as it had only been releasing pathetic pleas, and broken sobs for the past few days. 

Y/f/n handed you your phone, the photo of Luke and Petunia sitting by the pool being almost completely covered by all the missed call notifications that had taken over your lock screen. 

“I think you should at least hear what he has to say babe, for your sake if not for his.” 

You let out a heavy sigh and accepted the phone, wrapping your favorite blanket around your shoulders and dragging your feet to the bathroom for some privacy. 

You took a seat in the empty bathtub throwing the blanket across your body. You reasoned it was the perfect place to listen to the messages because as soon as Luke’s voice flooded the room you would be completely submerged in him and you didn’t trust your legs to hold you up. 

You clicked the most recent voicemail, time stamped from 1:28 am last night. As you selected the speaker option you allowed your eyes to fall closed and without noticing or trying you held your breath. 

“Y/n,” 

Only one word in you could immediately tell two things without a trace of doubt. One, he’d been crying, and two he was drunk. If you had to guess you would say tequila, it had always been his favorite and he had a bad habit of nursing his wounds in the liquor cabinet. It shattered your heart to think of him broken, and vulnerable and as he continued to speak you found yourself wrapping your arms around your body for comfort. 

“I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his voice cut off as a sob played through your phone. You released a matching one while squeezing  your eyes tighter, a shaky hand bringing your phone closer as if it would bring him as well. 

As he continued, your mind began to paint a vivid picture. You saw him sitting on the kitchen floor, an old ratty sweatshirt struggling to keep him warm, damp tear stains spoiling the sleeves. There was a half empty bottle to his side and the tip of his nose was red as it peeked out from the hood. You shook your head in an attempt to rid yourself of the image that felt like your personal nightmare.

“I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby.” he spoke through gasps of breath that caused worry to spread across your body.

You paused the message as a dull ache creeped up from the bottom of your stomach and to your throat which was tightening by the second. You tossed your phone onto the blanket which you had kicked off as your body heated up, and sprung out of the tub landing firmly in front of the toilet. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail in your hand you hunched over and retched into the bowl. Y/f/n burst through the door as you gagged and coughed repeatedly, she took your hair from you and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you tried to focus your breathing through your nose. This wasn’t the first time you had cried yourself into throwing up during your stay so she knew what to do to calm you down and settle your stomach. 

As you finished the glass of water she had poured from the sink while you brushed your teeth she held your car keys out to you. 

“Please go see him. I can’t see you like this anymore.” 

You nodded accepting the keys reluctantly and made your way to your car.

 Once outside you noted that the rain had started coming down harder, it seemed fitting as your situation reached its climax. By the time you got into the car your hair was wet and stringy, dripping onto Luke’s shirt that you had been wearing since the night you left. You quickly tied it back and drove away, hoping the sound of the rain could calm your nerves before you got back to your house. 

When you got there the sun was setting and the rain was still falling steadily, you grabbed a jacket from the back seat and held it over your head as you ran to the house. The jacket didn’t give you much protection from the water and you were soaked by the time you reached the door. Taking one big breath, in through your nose, and out from your mouth as you had been repeating the whole ride there, you raised your quivering hand and knocked three times. 

Expecting it to take a few minutes for him to reach the door you were shocked when it swung open in just a few seconds. Your heart sunk as you took in Luke’s appearance, although you were sure you looked just as bad if not worse. Deep dark circles sat beneath his bloodshot eyes, his stubble had grown in a bit longer than he typically liked it and his lips were chapped and bitten down. Guilt panged in your chest, how awful of a girlfriend were you to let it get to this point? The thought made you question if he would even want you here. 

Apparently the time apart had completely fucked with your ability to read Luke’s face because even frozen in shock, his eyes began to fade into that special soft color of blue they only got to around you. He felt as if a giant weight had been lifted from his chest and just as it had been since the moment you left the only word running through his head was “y/n.” 

He didn’t see your messy, wet hair or the ratty tshirt that swallowed your figure. He didn’t see your eyes puffy from crying or your bitten down nails that you were bringing back up to your mouth in that moment as your nerves got the best of you. All he saw was y/n. His y/n. You came home to him and as far as he was concerned you looked like an angel. Warm, sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 

Your eyes ran over his face anxiously, waiting for him to say something, or invite you in, or even slam the door in your face. Anything. After a minute of silence you gathered up the courage to speak first. 

“Sorry I never called you bac-'' your words were knocked from your mouth when Luke took a step forward and wrapped you up into the tightest hug you’d ever experienced. Your limbs fit together perfectly, and the second your bodies met you felt recharged, as if everything was in place once again. And Luke felt like for the first time in a week he could breathe. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he sighed as you pressed your nose into his chest deeply breathing in the smell you could only describe as home. “Thank you for coming back to me, I don’t work without you.” 

From your position in his arms you could see the mess splayed on the floor behind him. It was just as you had pictured it earlier, a thin blanket and scratchy throw pillow were scattered on the floor in front of the sink, a bottle lying on it’s side just next to them. Guilt inched up your spine when your eyes made contact with a framed picture of the two of you on top of the blanket. 

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed into his chest, your hands clawing at the material of his sweatshirt. 

He pulled back quickly, keeping his hands on either sides of your waist, “No baby, why’re you sorry. This is all my fault, I was awful. You...you’re perfect.” he pressed as you shook your head in distress, unable to stop your tears. 

“N-no I stayed away for so long, even when I knew I wa-wanted to forgive you. I was embarrassed and...and selfish.” you struggled to speak over your tears while Luke looked down at you sad and confused. 

“What’re you talking about, love?” 

You sniffed and dropped your hands from Luke’s chest, “I j-just wanted you to be proud of me.” the end of your sentence was nearly lost in your sobs but Luke understood. And in that moment he regretted going into music instead of engineering, or science, or whatever would’ve helped him to invent  a time machine so he could go back and beat the shit out of whoever or whatever had possessed him last week. 

His hands moved to cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing lightly over your bottom lip. 

“I am proud of you baby.” 

He leaned in slowly, and hesitantly, almost as if he was testing the waters, like this was new. As if he hadn’t kissed you thousands of times before. You looked up at him through your lashes littered with unshed tears and nodded your head slowly. He still had so much left to say, you still had so much left to say but you both had been needing this for as long as you’d lost it. He pressed his lips to yours gently, afraid that even one wrong move and you would decide that you had made the wrong choice in coming back. He wouldn’t survive that, he couldn’t lose you twice. 

As he went to pull away you snaked a hand around the back of his neck pulling him back towards you. This time when your lips collided his body sagged into it, both arms wrapping around your back and lifting you up to the tips of your toes. Your eyes drifted shut and you reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against you like this. When the kiss broke you kept your faces close enough that your noses were touching, and opened your eyes to see Luke’s still closed, his eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his forehead to you. 

“You’re what I’m most proud of.” he exhaled, his eyelids still shut lightly. “My greatest achievement is getting you to love me and I can’t believe I almost blew it.” 

You brought a hand to his face and stroked his cheek lightly, the feeling of his overgrown stubble foreign to your fingers. 

“It would take a lot more to get rid of me.” you assured. “I think m’too in love with you.” 

He opened his eyes, locking them with your own, and spoke firmly but with a softness that was and would always be reserved for only you. 

“I want to make it clear that you do not in any way leech.” he dragged the last word out, laced in disgust as if it were hard for him to say. “I lucked out. I actually just seem to keep lucking out, my job, my life, and you.” He placed a hand across your jaw and tilted your chin up before continuing. “I completely lucked out with you. I have lots of money, more than I need actually and it makes me feel fucking incredible that I can take care of you. That’s all I wanna do for the rest of my life.” 

Your mouth broke into a smile hearing him verbally commit to a lifetime with you. 

“But, with that being said I know you don’t need me-” 

“I do need you.” you interrupted. 

Luke threw his head back at your words, a toothy grin overtaking his face before he pressed a chaste peck to your forehead. 

“Y’know what? You’re too fucking cute. I meant financially baby, m’trying to apologize here.” 

You nodded for him to continue, struggling to contain your own beaming smile. 

“Anything you decide to do occupationally or otherwise could never, ever let me down. You’re physically incapable of it. I’d be a lucky guy if you let me stick around for it all and I promise to never forget that again. I’m sorry I did in the first place.” he took a deep breath before finishing his rant. “M’only able to give you the world if you let me. Let me?” 

You answered his question by attaching your lips once again, desire and need radiating off of the place where your lips met. As your taste buds reacquainted themselves with Luke’s mouth you wondered how you had gone even a day without him. 

Luke felt like he was flying and he couldn’t wrap his head around how anyone in the world could live without, seeing you, knowing you, and kissing you. He also knew that he would do anything to ensure that he never had to go a day without you for the rest of his life. 

“How long does it take to get an engagement ring sized?” he wondered to himself. 

If he could’ve read your mind he would’ve seen white gowns, tiered cakes, and little blue eyed, curly haired monsters running amuck. 

“I want everything with you, the whole world.” you affirmed when you pulled apart for air. 

“Yea?” he responded. 

You hummed against his lips, “Always.” 

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragment VI

Word Count: 3.964

Warnings: Slight violence

Author’s Note: I’m back! This chapter was so enjoyable to write, I missed this series so much! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Also yes I did see the 2.1 trailer. Scaramouche’s JP laugh my evil beloved.

After your little interlude of conversation with Scaramouche you had succumbed once more to the blinding heat that was enveloping you. Having little sense of the world around you, waking up to bits and pieces of movement only to be stolen away by the darkness again, you found yourself completely disoriented by the sight that greeted you when you finally woke up.

You were in a tent, that much was sure, though beyond that you weren’t really aware of much else. The bed that you were lying on, though slightly damp, was clean, and the top cover, which remained underneath you, was folded over neatly. There was a large table next to you, filled with what could only be medical equipment, as well as a dresser, a chair, and a bench, presumably there for medical purposes. However the high quality material of everything, the tent, the sheets, the pillow, made the whole room seem much too fancy to be a simple hospital tent.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, too afraid to move in case the world started swimming again, when what could only be a medic walked in. The Fatui emblem was embroidered neatly above his breast pocket, but otherwise he seemed completely, almost unnervingly, normal. The only other thing of note was the Anemo vision strapped to his arm.

“Ah I see you’re awake. Good, I didn’t want to have to call the head medic in again, since she made it perfectly clear already that your case didn’t need her specific supervision. Still, when my lord Scaramouche came in shouting, she couldn’t very well say that, ignoring how banged up you were at the time.”

“Scaramouche was here?” You asked, head still slightly fuzzy.

It probably shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear that, after all you weren’t the one walking to the medical tent by yourself considering the state you were in. Still the image felt like an odd one. You figured he would’ve found someone else to do it for him. Letting this information rattle around in your mind you mutely listened as the medic asked you to hold out your arm for pulse checking, barely listening to his halfhearted small talk.

“Your pulse seems to be evening out a bit,” he finally said. “Good, you were going berserk for a little bit there. We even had to call in a healer, didn’t want you to die. Thankfully the healing seemed to help, my lord was saying something about your state being magic induced, and we were worried that there would be no effect.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you replied, knowing full well that this level of treatment was likely the result of being dragged in by a Harbinger. Still, you couldn’t help but feel somewhat grateful.

“It’s nothing. Better have you alive then a dead body on our hands after all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Still, you’ll have to take care. Your iron levels were also somewhat wonky, so we’re going to give you a week’s worth of pills for that. Come back in a week and if everything seems alright you’ll be good to go. Okay?”

“Alright.”

The medic nodded before walking out. Feeling still exhausted you flopped down on the bed. A breeze seemed to be blowing outside and a part of it came in through the slits in the tent. Letting the wind fan over you, you closed your eyes. Soon enough your thoughts swam into incoherence and you were dragged down into the realm of sleep.

 “My lord.”

Scaramouche jerked his head up from the papers he’d been half heartedly studying. Seeing the medic in front of him he immediately stretched himself up a little taller. At least this wasn’t something completely worthless.

“I assume you’re here to tell me about the condition of the person I left with you.”

“Yes, they have just woken up. Their vitals are no longer in critical condition, and they appear to be alert.”

“Good. That will be all.”

“Yes my lord.”

Scaramouche waited until the medic had left before letting his thoughts roam. You were awake, you were finally awake. Though he wanted to deny it, the relief that flooded through him made it all too apparent how worried the Harbinger had been. When you’d first woken up in his tent he had felt worried, yes, perhaps even slightly frantic. Still, he had assumed that that would be the end of it. You collapsing again had made his blood run cold in a way that rarely, if ever happened. He was Scaramouche after all. The Balladeer, the Harbinger who had no room for mercy in his heart, no time to worry about the lives of other people. After all, does the winter blizzard care about whose house it destroys? Certainly not, it only has to fulfill its goal. Yet he had cared about what was happening with you, even more than that, he’d been worried, perhaps even terrified.

Acknowledging these things left a bitter taste in Scaramouche’s mouth, but he wasn’t idiotic enough to try and deny it. Somehow you had managed to become noteworthy to him, important enough to draw such a reaction out of him. Was this some despicable side effect of your ability? No, it was unlikely. There was no use in looking for excuses or denials. What the Harbinger had to do now was figure out what to do with his predicament. He ought to crush it, to treat you as he would any other low-level lackey, he ought not to have brought you over to his personal section of the medical tents, should have had someone else carry you to the general wing. Those sorts of regrets were too late now however. He had acted out of pure panic, hadn’t even thought of the strict hierarchy that ruled all the lives of those who lived under the Tsaritsa.

Not did your aberrant status help, you who weren’t from Snezhnaya, who had no sense of authority, who had no true place amidst the Harbingers. You were merely there, a shadow that Scaramouche had hoped to command who had instead appeared to have manipulated him in some way.

Yet he couldn’t get rid of you, not now. You were still needed in some capacity, needed to tell him of the layout of the village, the location of the artifact, you had said it was a mirror. Besides, Scaramouche still wasn’t entirely sure whether or not Signora would want to inspect you, having brought you to Scaramouche’s attention in the first place. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; Signora had a habit of going where she pleased, deriving satisfaction from the ability to draw irritation out of her fellow Harbingers. The mere idea of her sauntering in to inspect you brought a sour sort of taste to Scaramouche’s mouth. Now more than ever he loathed his coworker’s antics.

Still something had to be done, though what was still up in the air. Pondering this Scaramouche stood up. At the very least he ought to look after you, though whether this was tied into the emotions that roiled in him or simple logic he wasn’t yet sure of. At the very least there would certainly be more talking if he didn’t look on you than if he did. If there was anything that the Fatui loved it was erratic behavior. After all those who could be swayed into doing illogical things were certainly much easier to manipulate. No, better for him to make an appearance, to say that he was concerned you were on the verge of death which would have ruined his plans. This excuse in mind he stood up, urging his inner thoughts to silence as he walked out of the tent and into the afternoon sun.

The image he was greeted with upon entering your, or rather his, tent was all too reminiscent of how you had first looked in that forest where he had first met you. Face pale, a slight sheen of sweat visible on your brow, slicking your hair against your neck. Though your eyes had almost immediately snapped open upon hearing the voice of the medic they were unfocused, and for a moment it seemed as if you were squinting to make the Harbinger out.

It was a pathetic image of a person, and a mix of disgust, pity, and worry swept over Scaramouche. Silently hoping that he himself would never look so weak he sat on the only chair in the room, dismissing the medic with a wave of his hand, keeping his focus on you the whole time.

“So,” he began when you two were finally alone, “you have been saved from the teeth of death. If I had known the spectacle you were going to cause I would have never asked you to do such a thing.”

“Most visions don’t go that way,” you replied, voice husky and cracked from lack of use. “It was, it was because of the mirror.”

“You mentioned that before. This mirror, I presume it’s what we’re looking for.”

“I won’t look for it anymore,” your voice seemed to tremble slightly. “Even if my vision it was terrible. It warped the space around it, even from the future. If you were to get into the same room as it, were to try and touch it, I, I don’t know.”

“We must get a hold of it. If it is the Tsaritsa’s wish we would sacrifice a whole reserve for it.”

“How can you say such a thing?” you replied, voice quiet. The dispassionate tone sent a lance through Scaramouche, and for a moment he found himself unable to reply, knowing full well the answers he ought to be giving you, the total loyalty demanded by the archon he served.

“Still,” he finally continued, “you have showed me that you’re certainly not strong enough for this. From now on I will no longer provide you information about this mission, nor will I ask you to do anything to bring it about. All I need is a report about what you saw, if you wish you can write it yourself. There are other things that you would be better suited for.”

“What things? I don’t think you understand. I’m the only one who has seen what could happen, what seems very likely to happen based on the fragments that were lined up in front of me. The best outcome I saw was that you were unable to find it. The worst,” you took a deep breath in, “the worst outcome is that the village goes up in flames.”

“Ridiculous,” scoffed Scaramouche, feeling irritation rise up inside of him. “I thought you would be grateful to hear that you wouldn’t be required to look into the future again, instead you insult me, insult the Fatui.”

“I am glad that you aren’t going to try and force me into the future. I don’t think you could truly convince me to anyways, but I’d rather not fight about it. Still, I want to be there, to make sure that this doesn’t happen. I have to know what’s going on.”

“You don’t have to know anything. I don’t owe you information or position, you’re only here at my pleasure.”

“Yes! I am only here because you forced me to be here, only here because you asked me to do something I didn’t wish to do. And now you take the advice I give you and trample all over it! Why, why are you acting so irrational?”

“You’re the one acting irrational!” Scaramouche shot back, feeling a wave of panic shoot through him. The idea that you had managed to somehow divine the odd emotions that he was currently experiencing seemed unlikely, but that you could sense something was out of place was alarming. “I just need the report,” he pressed, feeling his voice raise in irritation, wanting this to be over.

As you stared at him, silence being your reply, the thoughts that whirled inside the Harbinger’s head seemed to get louder. Why was this suddenly so complicated? All Scaramouche’s career he had easily ordered his way around and over people. Deals were only made with other Harbingers, who quickly stepped aside to let the Balladeer do his duty. Never had someone simply refused his orders. The idea that you would do so, would turn down something so easy and to your benefit, was absolutely infuriating.

“I would like to rest a little more,” your voice finally broke through the thick silence. “I’m tired.”

“I would have gone a long time ago had you just listened to me,” Scaramouche pointed out.

“Please,” you shot him a look, “I’m not in the mood. I don’t want to fight either. I really don’t. It’s the last thing I want to do. I wanted to thank you in fact, for bringing me here rather than letting me lie on the ground or trying to slap me awake or something. But, but you just, you never listen. That’s what makes it so hard, what makes all of it so hard. You never listen so how, how are you ever supposed to hear me?”

The plaintive tone of your voice struck another blow, as Scaramouche found himself suddenly, suddenly what? He found himself leaning out of his chair, the urge to walk over to you so intense it seemed to steal the breath from his lungs. He wanted to do something, though what he wasn’t entirely sure of. To apologize? To demand? To scold? To, to console? What a stupid thing to do. Yet all these things he suddenly wanted to do. Of course he couldn’t do nay of these things, couldn’t push you any farther, couldn’t pull himself back. All he could do was lean forward, as if that might in some way convey what he was feeling.

“Is there something you want?” You asked.

“No,” Scaramouche stood up. “There is nothing more I wish to say to you.” What a lie that was.

Making his way over to the tent flap Scaramouche stopped. Quickly, almost in rebellion with his mind, he turned and walked over to you. Taking your wrist he pressed his fingers to it.

“Your pulse is still irregular,” he noted.

Spinning around and walking out of the tent the Harbinger fought the urge to scream at himself, scream for such an irrational act. Yet part of him wasn’t thinking about that at all, was instead marveling at how warm, how comfortable your hand had been in his own.

 It seemed like an hour had passed by the time your pulse managed to right itself, though surely only a few minutes must’ve passed. You held your wrist in your other hand, staring down at it, as if willing the scene that had just passed to reappear before you. What was that, what in Teyvat was that? You couldn’t make heads or tails of it, could barely acknowledge that it had indeed happened at all. Scaramouche, the Harbinger, the man who had only moments before been berating you, that Scaramouche had walked over to you and checked your pulse, held your hand in his, if only for a moment. It seemed laughable, seemed so surreal as to have been a dream, yet it had surely happened.

Of course maybe to him that had been a completely normal thing to do. After all, the medic had told you that your pulse had been irregular. Surely Scaramouche would have noticed that too. Perhaps his self-righteousness had caused him to want to make his own judgement on the state of your health. Still that didn’t stop your heart from leaping into your throat the moment it had happened, hadn’t stopped you from feeling like you were, for very different reasons than before.

You cradled your wrist, still able to feel the slight pressure his fingers had exerted on it, as if he had somehow branded you. His fingers had been surprisingly soft, not at all rough as you had expected it. Perhaps that was only natural, you knew that he sported no sword hilt, and there were no sharpening stones in his tent, meaning in all likelihood he was a catalyst user. Still, it was unexpected. His fingers had been surprisingly gentle, his palm with which he held your hand was soft and warm. You wondered for a moment what it would be like if he were to hold your hand properly. A small part of you wondered if you might yet do so in the future.

Almost immediately you shook yourself violently, willing those thoughts out of your head. Even now the idea of doing something so domestic, so intimate, with Scaramouche seemed odd, almost heretical. He was a Harbinger, a bloodthirsty man, one who evidently had no problem with a village going up in flames. And yet, and yet…

You sighed, lying back down on the bed. You should sleep, you were exhausted. Everything was going fast, oh so fast. You couldn’t keep up, couldn’t keep up with your feelings, with Scaramouche’s logic. All you wanted to do was block it out, to sleep. As you closed your eyes one final coherent thought floated through your head. He had, despite it all, not asked you to do it again.

 You never realized you were dreaming until about halfway through your dreams. Even then you had no power to stop them, they pulled you along, like a riptide, waiting to drag you down into their depths.

You weren’t exactly sure how you got into the village, the all too familiar landscape. It was hot, and your thoughts seemed to melting along with your legs, as you tried to run towards the now blazing rooftops, yet found yourself hardly moving. Yet you kept moving forward, intent on something, though on what you weren’t sure of. Something very important to be sure. If only you could reach it.

Reaching some sort of back you shinnied your way between the burning. The flames licked at your clothes and at you, but you couldn’t feel them, they certainly weren’t any hotter than the rest of you. In fact the only side effect that seemed to be happening was how close the walls were becoming, so much so that you were barely getting through. Still you kept going, and eventually you found yourself out of the seemingly endless tunnel.

There were a few men in the distance, men who seemed to be barreling towards. Unease spiked through you, somehow you knew that whatever happened they shouldn’t catch you. Yet another part of you dismissed them as no important enough. No, this wasn’t how you wanted it to go, there was something else. As you thought that they seemed to suddenly fade away, or perhaps it was that you had suddenly found yourself somewhere else.

Walking down this road that seemed so busy and so desolate you found yourself in field. Not questioning the black sky above you, the fact that there was a field in the middle of a tiny village, you approached a figure in the middle of the field. Somehow you already knew who it would be.

You had never really thought about the space that Scaramouche took up before. He was simply there, a man, a Harbinger, a person. Just there. Now however he seemed all too small, almost puny. His head was turned to the side, so much as to be unnatural. A slight dribble of blood pooled from his mouth, and his eyes stared with the glassy intensity of the dead, the kind of stare that would forever haunt. You seemed to float above him, high, high above. Yet you wanted to lower yourself, to shake him, to see if he was just pretending. Everything felt glassy and distant, like a play that you were part of but not actively participating in. Soon enough he’d pick himself off the ground and start yelling at you. Soon. Yet someone was wailing in the distance, and for once the voice seemed eerily familiar.

 You opened your eyes, at first seeing nothing before the cloth ceiling of the tent finally revealed itself to you. Lying there, not daring to sit up or roll over or do anything, you replayed your dream. Before it had seemed so distant, so disconnected from you. Now however it close, all too close. Your back was sticky with sweat, and the sudden heaving of your chest, cause panic to flood through your mind, revealed how truly shaken you were. You had seen Scaramouche dead before, had seen his fallen frame in your visions. It had been so different then however. Then he had just been a Harbinger, just been a demanding man. Now however he was, something. Something else.

All this time you had worried about your feelings for Scaramouche, worried that they were just some figment of imagination that stemmed from your visions of the future. Perhaps that was partly the truth, perhaps those visions had indeed provided the fuse for your emotions. Yet somehow you had lit them, or more aptly somehow Scaramouche had. The image of him lying there, dead on the ground, filled you with such distress that it seemed liable to drown you. Even if these feelings were somehow made up, the result of some imagined Scaramouche in the future, some need to line yourself up with some possible path, they were still real. Painfully so, if this was a sign of anything.

Finally sick of lying in one position you sat up. Though the tent was opaque enough you could see little bits of light through the slits of the tent, and the slightly warm air had the distinct feeling of it being at least midday. Standing up you made your way, somewhat hesitantly, over to the flap of the tent. You needed to see Scaramouche, if only to try and convince him again not to go through with such a ridiculous plan. You needed to make sure that your dream didn’t become a reality.

Walking through the tented hallway you quickly ran into the same medic as before, this time pushing a tray with food on it.

“Oh good you’re up,” he said, voice slightly bored. “Maybe you’ll be able to leave tomorrow then.”

“I need to talk to Scaramouche,” you said, words tumbling out and running into one another. “It’s something of the greatest urgency.”

“I’m sorry but my lord isn’t here.”

“Isn’t here? Then, he…”

“He went off on a mission, he said if you were ready to leave before he came back to move you back into your tent tomorrow and to wait until he returned for further instructions.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes.” The medic replied, seemingly slightly impatient.

Turning around you fell right back onto the bed. Ruining the hospital corners you ripped the blanket over your head, willing it to block out all the light. You needed to get out, you needed to go find him. Somehow you knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Even if you wanted to you doubted the medics would cross Scaramouche’s orders to keep you here until tomorrow. Even more so you had no information on what exactly he had done, though you were almost positive that he had gone to the village. Even if he hadn’t though you had to go check, go make sure. What he was doing was madness, running into a situation without fully comprehending it, what in Teyvat was he thinking?

Anxiety welled up inside you, consuming any and all thoughts you might’ve had. In their place was fear, pure distilled fear. Fear for the Harbinger that you didn’t want to die, and fear for the future that might not come to pass after all.

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

I'm Yours

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: There's kissing. A lot of kissing. Just some teenagers being dumb really. No canon characters were harmed in the making of this fic. I didn't include a cheating aspect since I don't write for that kind of stuff, but there's still some jealous!Kirishima here >:3

Author's Note:

Uhhhh I kinda forgot to make this fluffy . . . .

Thanks to uwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwuwi from Wattpad for requesting! (that's a really fun username hehe)

Enjoy!

-Sugar

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Swamped.

That was the only way he could describe it. Kirishima didn’t think he’d ever been so busy, and he wasn’t the only one.

Finals had the entirety of the hero course stressed, especially the second-years like himself. Between training, doing homework, and going to class, there wasn’t exactly room for being social. Any time he was able to hang out with his friends, they were studying together. Nothing he'd really describe as 'fun'. And that’s what had him feeling the worst about all this.

He’d started dating you a few weeks ago—going on three months now, actually. Things had been going well between the two of you. You liked him and he really liked you, so to him, there hadn't been any type of problem.

Even so, there was something a little unique about your relationship: no one knew about it. You yourself were never one for letting others get too involved in your business. And besides, you also knew the nature of most high school relationships. Maybe you’d announce yourselves as a couple and make a big fuss only to grow tired of the other and end it all within the first month. But clearly, that hadn’t happened.

There was a strange thrill to keeping your relationship a secret; a novelty your boyfriend hadn't expected. Though he wasn’t much for dishonesty, Kirishima practically lived for the stolen glances across the classroom you’d share, and the way he’d sneak you behind the school for impromptu makeout sessions with no one ever the wiser. You were his little secret, and he was yours.

Until it had all come to a grinding halt with the extra schoolwork.

He still tried to make time to spend with you in one of your dorm rooms, but the both of you finally had to admit to yourselves that neither of you could get any work or studying done when you were alone together. And so it was back to study groups; holding hands under the table as either Bakugou or Yaoyorozu went over the newest batch of hero laws that needed to be memorized.

God, how he wished this could all be over. Kirishima just wanted things to be normal again. When was the last time he’d even seen you? He could remember watching the back of your head duck out of the classroom at the end of the day, but after? . . . Nothing.

He frowned at the physics worksheet laid before him, mind wandering to thoughts of you as one of his sharp teeth sunk into the eraser at the end of his pencil. Kirishima supposed he should go check on you later, once he’d finished up his assignments for the evening.

…

“Did you see (L/N) yesterday?”

Kirishima’s ears unconsciously perked up at the sound of your name. He stood with his tray in the lunch line directly behind some of his female classmates. They were chatting amongst themselves as they slowly stepped forward. Kirishima wasn’t generally one to listen in on conversations he wasn’t a part of, but now they’d captured his interest. Had one of them seen him sneaking into your room?

“No, I didn’t,” Uraraka said in response to Ashido. “Is she alright?”

“Of course she is,” the pink-haired girl said, rolling her abnormal black and amber eyes as she reached for a clementine. “Actually, she may be doing more than alright.”

Kirishima swallowed. Uh-oh.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jirou asked, sounding largely uninterested in gossiping about her fellow classmate.

“Well,” Ashido began, bouncing a little on her toes, “I saw her on the tech floor yesterday and you won’t believe who she was talking to.”

“Who?” Jirou asked dryly, probably hoping to get the discussion over with as quickly as possible.

“Kobayashi Tatsuo. The third year,” Mina announced proudly.

The redhead behind them quietly sighed. Thank goodness. They still didn't know.

“And?” Uraraka questioned.

“They were totally flirting!” Ashido said. “(L/N)’s bagged a cute upperclassman boy! They’ll be dating soon, I just know it! If they aren’t already.” She smugly leveled her shoulders, grinning with an odd look of satisfaction.

What?

“I guess that’s good for her,” Jirou commented, picking up her tray from the lunch bar in order to follow her friends to a table.

“I know, right?” Mina said excitedly as they walked off. “And he’s totally cute too! I wish a hot guy would pay attention to me for once.”

Kirishima watched them leave, almost forgetting to grab lunch for himself after being so absorbed in what they were saying.

The majority of him knew he shouldn’t pay any mind to it. This sort of thing was bound to happen. Of course his peers try to figure out who was involved with who, even if it wasn’t really accurate or from the most credible source. The girls didn’t know that you were already taken by someone else, in fact, the very person behind them in line.

At least now he knew where you’d gone after class yesterday . . . but why? What were you doing on the tech floor? And who was this third year you were talking to?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Kaminari’s voice. Kirishima returned the greeting, sliding into his seat next to his friend. As he settled into the atmosphere of his usual table, he couldn’t help but scan the cafeteria for your face, just as he had done every day, even before you were dating.

But for the first time, his search came up empty. You were nowhere to be seen.

…

Kobayashi wasn’t exactly the person you wanted to be spending your lunch with.

Really, a part of you wondered why you had to skip going to the cafeteria at all today. But then you remembered the stack of work that sat on your desk. It stubbornly refused to ever shrink, no matter what you did. Recently, it felt like as soon as you got one thing done, two more assignments would find their way right back at the bottom. And this was just another one you had to deal with.

While reviewing your materials for your upcoming finals, you’d begun to take note of other heroes’ costumes and support items. Particularly, you’d taken interest in a hero from Ukraine who’d debuted a few decades ago. Your quirk was wildly similar to his and you couldn’t help but further research his techniques, costume, and gadgets that enhanced his abilities.

You weren’t one to copy. Actually, you quite liked the way your current costume functioned and looked, with its own unique style of your own. Even so, you’d read things about him and his quirk that you honestly hadn’t even thought of for yourself, and you’d begun to make a special section in your notebook for improvements to your hero ensemble. Was it the best use of your time? Perhaps not, but you did have a practical exam coming up, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if these improvements you were sketching might make all the difference in your performance . . . .

You decided you could use an upgrade. Which is exactly why you went to the second-year in the support course who was in charge of making adjustments to your costume. Until your hopes were immediately dashed when you found out he was sick. Determined, you went to the next best option: Kobayashi.

He was a nice enough boy. Tall, witty, and a whole year older. You hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with him over the past week, but for whatever reason, he kept calling you back to his workspace in the shop for ‘daily check-ins’. At least he was making good progress.

But now you were spending your lunch hour eating with him. It felt strange, being alone in a different classroom with the guy—not an uncomfortable strange, merely “I’m not used to being here”. You’d let him borrow your notebook full of sketches for your costume, and that’s what he was going over with you now.

He’d ask you for clarification on one of your notes before jotting something down of his own right next to your handwriting. He had also been eager to show you his process, explaining the steps of what he was doing while you ate from your bento.

To be honest, it was kind of nice being in a different setting. Kobayashi was fun to listen to; it was clear he was passionate about what he was doing.

But still, he ran out of things to talk about. That was, when it came to your hero suit. Figuring it was too late to go back to the cafeteria anyway, he ate his own lunch with you, striking up a new conversation.

At first, you didn’t pay any mind to it. But then you began to take notice of how close he sat. Then you realized how eager he was to make you laugh, how smoothly the casual chatter flowed between you. And then it struck you just how much he peppered in compliments to you. Finally, it clicked.

Uh-oh.

You refused to meet his gaze when he waved you off after the bell rang. Dashing away, you wondered how serious he might be. Did he actually like you? No, perhaps you were overthinking the situation.

Then again, he had been being awfully nice to you ever since you’d met. But what if that was just how he was? Kaminari could be like that at times, and you knew he didn’t usually mean anything too serious behind it. Or—well—perhaps Denki the Flirt was a bad example for your case. Still . . . how were you supposed to make it clear to Kobayashi that you weren’t interested?

You shook your head to clear it of these thoughts. He hadn’t actually done anything, so what was the point of worrying about it? You were loyal to Eijirou, you knew that. You’d made a commitment to him just as he had to you, and that was all there was to it. No matter what, you’d continue whatever it was you had with him. Kobayashi wasn’t an issue you should be losing sleep over. Besides, you were probably reading too far into things anyway.

Content with the conclusions you’d made, you walked back into your homeroom class for fifth period. Settling into your seat, you faced the chalkboard in front of you, awaiting the return of Aizawa-sensei, unaware of the pair of ruby eyes fixed on your back.

…

Kirishima shot up from his desk the moment he heard a soft knock on his door. As soon as he opened up his room, you came barreling into his arms. “Hey!” he greeted you, reciprocating the hug.

“Study break!” you announced quietly, not wanting to alert his neighbors of your presence.

He tittered happily to himself, leading your bodies back to his desk where he could sit you on his lap in his chair. Settling comfortably on his thighs, you were quick to slot your lips against his. Kirishima melted into your touch.

How many days had it been since he’d last gotten a chance to kiss you? Two? Three? Either way, it had been far too long.

“Shall we take this to the bed?” he joked after a few minutes of kissing.

You chuckled at his harmless allusion. “You know I’m going to fall asleep as soon as I lay down.”

He brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, concern morphing his features. “Have you been getting enough rest with all this going on?”

“No,” you admitted. “I was up last night with my English flashcards. I swear Present Mic is trying to kill me with this new vocab, it’s like I can’t get it in my head at all.”

“I could help you study it,” your boyfriend offered, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

“That would be productive,” you said sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. “What was it last time? ‘If I get a set right, I’ll get a kiss’ and then next thing I know, we’re making out on your bed for twenty minutes.”

He grinned up at you coyly. “At least I made studying fun.”

“That wasn’t studying!” you protested with a grin. “Speaking of, my timer’s going to go off soon—” you pressed your lips against his for a moment, “—and I want more kisses.”

Kirishima let you have your way with him, threading your fingers through his hair while you savored the taste of his lips. But there was something still nagging at the back of his mind.

“(Y/N)?” he asked when your phone buzzed and you pulled away. “Where were you during lunch today?”

You shrugged, pulling your phone out of your pocket to silence it. “I’m getting improvements on my hero costume. My regular guy got sick so I’m working with this third-year dude.”

“Ohhh.” Kirishima’s worries dissipated almost instantly. “So that’s why you were on the tech floor.”

Confused, you frowned. “Did you see me there or something?”

“Oh, sorry! I just overheard Ashido saying that she saw you down there.” He laughed. “She thought you were flirting with him or something and that you were going to end up dating.”

“Ah, well,” you mumbled, “I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not but he, um, actually might have been flirting with me.”

Kirishima’s smile dropped, his arms subconsciously squeezing you tighter to him. “What?”

“I only noticed it today—it totally could be nothing—but I think he’s caught feelings? I mean, why else would he ask me to have lunch with him like this? Not to mention how he was smiling at me, and looking at me, and touching my hand—” You bit your tongue, stopping yourself from saying anything else. Maybe this was more serious than you realized.

Your boyfriend was silent, staring at the floor below you with a troubled expression. His ruby eyes traced over the rectangular patterns on his floor, seemingly lost in thought.

“You know that nothing’s going to happen,” you attempted to reassure him, lifting his chin with one of your fingers so he could look into your eyes. “Those feelings aren’t reciprocated and I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already picked you, Eijirou. There’s no one out there like you.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, sealing your statements, not only to him but to yourself. “We’ll sort this out. If I have to tell Kobayashi I’m taken, then so be it. Maybe keeping our relationship a secret isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.”

When you pulled back, you noticed that there was still a pout on Eijirou’s face.

“Aw, what is it?” you asked, tucking one of his fallen sticky spikes back under his bandana.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, pulling you even closer to him.

“Talk to me, baby.” You ran a hand down his back.

“I don’t like the thought of him being around you,” he confessed into your shoulder. “I . . . don’t want him smiling at you like that, or touching you, or letting people think that you belong with him. You’re . . . mine.” He paused before laughing dryly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. That sounded . . . totally selfish of me and probably not very manly at all—”

“No,” you said simply. “It’s actually kinda hot.”

He pulled back to look at you, perhaps to see if you were joking. Your expression was intrigued, maybe a little flustered. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “I . . . like when you call me yours. It’s cute. And besides, it’s okay that you feel that way. Feelings don’t have to make sense. I'm frustrated about this too.” Pecking his lips a final few times, you regretfully stood from his chair. “I wish there was something more I could do right now, but I should get going. I promised Tsu and Uraraka I’d meet up with them. We can talk about this later.”

“See you, (Y/N),” Kirishima said.

You smiled and waved, turning to the door and checking to see if anyone was in the hall before slipping back out. Kirishima watched you go, wondering what he should do.

Kirishima hadn’t even met the guy and he already hated him. Sure, Kobayashi wasn’t aware you were taken, and he had every right to show interest in you, but that was supposed to be Eijirou. It was Kirishima’s job to flirt with you and be there for you and sweep you off your feet. Your classmates should be shipping you with him, not this random guy from another year.

The redhead sighed. He shouldn’t let himself get so caught up in this. He knew you were capable of sorting this out on your own, and if you really needed him, Kirishima would help you. He couldn’t start getting whiny like some kind of child.

Besides, your friends could think whatever they wanted. It couldn’t affect your relationship. They were just high school kids. They didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Despite the fact he was trying to get back into focusing on his work, Kirishima’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Maybe once exams were over you could finally announce that the two of you were together. Then you wouldn’t have to sneak around so much anymore. He could hug you whenever he wanted, and you could sit on his lap during movie night. He’d be able to kiss you in front of his friends, no problem. Maybe, just to see the look on his face, he’d kiss you in front of—

No, no. Japanese Literature. That was what he was supposed to be thinking about right now. The sooner he finished his work, the sooner he’d be able to see you again.

…

Finally it was Saturday afternoon, and you knew you had an entire day to take things a little easier tomorrow. Maybe you’d even try to take the evening off and spend some time with your boyfriend. But of course, you had to meet with Kobayashi about your hero costume first. Hopefully it would be quick, and perhaps even the last time.

You walked down to the tech floor, heading straight for the workshop. You needed your suit for the practical exam next week, so you hoped he was ready for you.

Peeking into the room, you spotted him putting something into a very familiar case.

“Oh, are you finished?” you asked, walking in.

“Yeah,” he said brightly. “You’re all set, (L/N).”

“Thanks,” you said.

“Here,” he popped the little box open, showing off the finalized improvements he’d done and the changes he’d made that you’d spoken about together. He walked you through everything and you listened politely, asking the occasional question. Even with the newfound bitter taste in your mouth at being around him, you had to admit he'd done a spectacular job.

“That should be everything,” you said, ready to go. “Thanks for working with me.”

“No problem.”

Satisfied, you began to walk away.

“Wait, (L/N).”

Apprehensive, you stopped, turning back to him. “Yeah?”

“I was just wondering,” he began, bashful, “if you’d like to grab lunch with me sometime.”

You frowned, apologetic. “I can’t, Kobayashi senpai.”

“Why not?” He looked hurt.

You winced. “I’m already involved with someone else.”

“You’re just ‘involved’?” he asked dubiously, the expression on his face changing. “Please give me a chance. I can see that you feel something for me too. Whoever you’re with, I could be better.”

“I’m not interested,” you said firmly, any momentary sympathy you might have felt evaporating. “Goodbye, Kobayashi.”

He let you go, watching as you walked stiffly out of the classroom. As soon as you rounded the doorway, you felt something grab you. Gasping, you startled, but you were quick to register a familiar head of red hair. You saw Kirishima put a finger to his lips, pulling you further down the hall and towards the empty stairwell for some privacy.

He pushed you up against a blue-gray wall, grinning at you with hooded eyes.

“Eiji, what—?”

“I heard the whole thing,” he murmured, leaning in and capturing your lips for a quick kiss. “I thought that guy might make a move on you so I followed you down here. You held your own.” He kissed you again; this one longer, his tongue sneaking its way into your mouth. “You’re really mine, aren’t you?” he murmured against your lips, a stubborn trace of hesitancy still present and quavering in his voice.

“Of course I am, Eiji,” you whispered, touching your forehead to his. “I’m yours.”

He surged against you again, kissing you hungrily and pinning you even harder against the solid surface behind you.

You gasped against his force, eyebrows drawing together as you struggled to keep up. “Ei—” you tried. “Not here, let’s go someplace else.”

“Who cares?” he murmured, uninterested in stopping.

“Me. I don’t want to get caught by a teacher or a random fifteen-year-old. We could get in trouble.”

Kirishima sighed, finally drawing back for a moment to meet your eyes. “Okay, fine. But we’re going straight to my room, right?”

You snorted. “Where else do you think I want to be?”

He smirked, taking your hand again. “Good answer.”

Kirishima briskly walked you back to the dorms, his hand migrating ever lower down your back. It wasn’t long before he was sitting you on his lap in his bed, mouth once again connecting with yours right where it belonged.

You weren’t sure he’d ever kissed you like this before, in all the time you’d been together. His passion blazed before you, unrelenting as your teeth and tongues crashed together. He nipped at your lips until they flushed and swelled, and you knew they’d be noticeably bruised by morning but neither of you stopped. He kept going, trailing more kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your jaw, and all the way down your neck only to return right back to your parted lips whispering his name.

Kirishima’s room had never felt so hot and stuffy, even as he pulled off his uniform jacket and helped you out of yours. His cheeks burned red as his eyes, so caught up in what he was doing, the only thoughts his mind was still capable of having were simply You.

It went by in a haze. He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d lowered you onto his pillow, or how long he’d been hovering over you and caging you in with his arms as he cherished you.

But he knew one thing. His love for you wasn’t something he could hide anymore. No, he’d never let anyone think they stood a chance with you again while he was around.

One day soon, he would kiss you good morning at breakfast. One day, you’d hold hands in the halls on the way to class. One day, he’d pull you in close after school, slinging an arm around your hips just so he always knew you were there at his side.

But he was happy to be here with you now. He was happy to be your secret. He was happy, even as his kisses began to soften and slow, content with the way your body melded against his as he laid himself at your side and hugged you closer. All that mattered was that you were here with him now, and he was yours.

And you were his.

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Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicalyrandom @bumbyslair @f0leysgurl @hyunmin-1404 @kqtsukii @nabo39 @pyrofanatic​ @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @ure-a-sunflower @xoxopam4​

[apimpnamedlo]

Could you write a hc or drabble Eren saying to his s/o that he's going to Marley and she's tryin to convince him to stay, they end up spending the night together, but when she wakes up he's already gone? I mean, break my heart. That's it

Homebound (Eren x fem!scout!reader) Drabble

Warning: AOT spoilers, possible Season 4 spoilers if you squint  a little bit. Angst, slight suggestive themes, breeding if you tilt your head a little bit *cough cough*.

Author’s Note - So….in honor of all of the love and new friendships I’ve gained, I’ve decided to attempt ripping hearts out with our baby Eren. Thank you so much for the idea and the time given to me to whip this up! I didn’t think that the reader would ever think they could make Eren stay, but I think he’d do everything in his power to make sure they stay and that they’re safe. Hope you enjoy!

Song(s) of influence: Stay Down - Brent Faiyaz

Eren had a habit of  coming in once the soft firelight of your space had been lit and only stayed until the flame was no more than smoke wafting up the open sky. It wasn’t anything new, you were both so young and it was important to establish those boundaries of time within your relationship. The both of you were busy in the Scout Regiment, separating your relationship from your respected jobs out of respect for not only your higher ups, but…

He was always reckless when it came to you being in immediate danger.

You knew the heat of his titan’s hand all too well, it had saved you on many occasions that you were grateful for. You knew that roar of rage almost like the uplift of a symphony of voices  when you were ever targeted on the field of battle, and the distant memory of an immediate breeze in him lifting you into his vision, even briefly to make sure you were alright.

Eren was so sure of your capabilities, and he never would create a damsel in distress out of his lover, but you were too precious of a piece of humanity to be lost. He just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, and he was being reckless standing right outside of your tent.

It was one thing to come so early in the morning, the sun hadn’t risen yet and everyone was probably going to start stirring soon. The past few months after Historia had been crowned queen were steady with common visits, so why now?  You quietly moved aside to let Eren  in, and allowed what seemed to be a flustered savior of humanity to stop his treck back and forth in front of  your makeshift quarters without sparing you so much a glance in his utterings to himself. The poor man looked absolutely exhausted and skinny with worry about the slightest of things after the coronation, and the journey to the body of saltwater made it no better for him. The journey there was full of titans that came across the Scout’s path, and all of them were cut down by their blades while they continued to push on. The entire way there consisted of Eren’s silence and his exhaustion when faced with the titans. With each one they came across, his eyes got just a little colder.

But when they faced you? He almost moved to tears, and it most definitely was the reason why he couldn't look at you.

“Eren,” You had enough of his muttering, and moved across your temporary space to cup his cheeks in between your hands. “You do know the Captain is going to kill you if he catches you up like this?”

He didn’t really look like he cared too much. Instead, Eren took the time to drink you up. The color of your eyes. The feeling of your warmth on his cheeks, your hair that he’s had his hands tangled in time and time again-

“You can’t come across the sea with me.”

You were almost taken aback. Immediately your hands retreated back to your sides and you took the time to size Eren up, squaring your shoulders and preparing for the argument that you just knew was approaching. “No, I think I will as per my orders from Capitan Levi.”

His eyes almost immediately narrowed, and it was obvious that your quick rejection snapped him out of whatever had been bothering him for so long. “______, I don’t have the time to argue with you. Can you just listen to me for once? Finish the mission here and go home.”

“I don’t need to go home Eren. You’re talking about insubordination, and I’m not leaving my squad to go across those waters and into that alone. What’s gotten into you?”

“You.” The volume of his voice definitely stirred other soldiers, and before your hand could flatten itself on his mouth, he caught your wrist and continued on. “You’re so hard headed. If you could just listen to me one time. Just once, let me go off knowing that you’re going to be safe.” Eren’s grip tightened only briefly before he let go, and moved forward to press his forehead against yours. “I can’t lose you. If you stay here, I won’t have to. I promise you.”

Was this the breaking point? At some point, you were sure he’d probably hit his head on something or he was worrying more than he should have. You couldn’t help but to wrap your arms around him to the best of your ability in the awkward space, pulling him down and into your sleeping mat to comfort the man you loved.

You knew you loved him, and he knew he loved you. But duty came before love. He couldn’t just make you turn around from all of this progress that was made and expect you to just go home. You dedicated your heart to the people behind those walls, and there was nothing Eren could do about that.

At least, that’s what you thought.

His lips were on yours the second he could visibly see that your mind had been made up, hands making quick work of picking away and your under clothes for the night, and for some reason? You felt weak to those eyes that were briefly filled with emotion, and the  touch that  oozed with longing. Eren’s feelings were always shown physically, whenever he could, and you felt it in the way he pressed his weight on top of you, as if he was leaving an imprint on you with the heat made between your bodies.

You should have known he had a plan, every thrust was full of purpose that you hadn’t felt before. He made it a point to fill you up again, and again until the sun rose and the two of you tore apart once life rose in the camp to continue the journey forward.

Stolen moments like this after arguing were common, but his tears in the last moments of stillness told you so much more than just whose breathless declarations of love that went up and into the night.

It told you that you would be staying by the time the waves of nausea overtook you weeks into conquering the ships of Marley. His will was in the words of your Capitan’s, making it clear that you’d be staying on the island behind the safety of the walls.

On the last night you two were together, Eren didn’t bother to tell  you that he’d be coming home, or that he’d even stay alive. His lips were either planted on your forehead, hands gripping your being close to him until a ship had separated the two of you, and the cart only added to the distance in your return to Wall Sina.

It was just an inkling, but by the time they had set out...

You just knew. You’d never see Eren Yeager again.

[shroomcult]

@soulxmakaweek

Day 4: Apologize

I fell way behind with Soma week because I got slammed with work and this monster of a fic took me too long to write.

Summary: 

Maka comes to realize that Soul had never felt fully comfortable around Crona, and in ignoring this entirely - she unknowingly hurt her closest friend.

Special thanks to Tori @chichirichick (she betas all of my dumpster fires, bless her) for proofreading this mess of emotions and also to Zi @azroazizah for coming up with the concept for this fic. 

**Disclaimer** This story is not about putting blame on Crona, but instead about acknowledging the fact that Soul went through trauma due to their actions and it was never taken into consideration by Maka before inviting them into their friend group. I'm not saying Crona didn't deserve support, but it's also completely valid for Soul - a victim of Crona - to not feel entirely safe around them regardless of their tragic background and circumstances. If Crona is a big comfort character for you and you feel you would likely be upset by this concept, then I recommend not reading it altogether. We all interpret things different and we're all entitled to our own opinions, and I'm not going to get in arguments with people over this.

It’d been a while since the Spartoi team was all together again.

After the fall of Asura, they really had no purpose to join forces as a team. No big baddie to unite them in ass-kickery. 

The skies were blue again. There were still Kishin eggs to take down, and a shaky new diplomatic relationship with the witches to maintain as well. 

Things were more or less … normal. Boring, even.

The only big difference Blackstar could discern was that nobody seemed to have time to just hang out and be friends anymore.

Kid was over his head with his new responsibilities, and while he was doing an admirable job filling his father’s shoes; there was a steep learning curve and his perfectionist tendencies only made it more challenging to overcome. He upheld a calm and collected demeanor in the public’s eyes, but Liz and Patty spent most of their time holding him together behind the scenes. 

Soul and Maka were a different situation entirely.

It was odd enough to adjust to the recent change in the nature of their relationship. They claimed to be the same as they’ve always been - just Soul & Maka. Only, they grew much closer after the hardships they had endured both in the book of Eibon and on the moon.

They had been close to begin with, but this was a different kind of close. Stolen glances, hands reaching for each other when they thought nobody was looking. Blushing for almost no damn reason. 

Something was going on between them - he could be sure of that.

More recently, however, Maka had been particularly obsessive about solving the dilemma of Crona’s entrapment on the moon. She was driving herself to a slow-burning insanity, considering every moment that she hadn’t rescued them yet to be a personal failure.

She’d been spending much of her time in the restricted section of the library, consuming every piece of relevant research for hours on end. Soul often stayed up there with her doing the same, or at the very least keeping her silent company when he was too burnt out to read anymore.

He’d also spent much of his extra time with Stein, training to perfect his sound-wave abilities into his own form of wavelength attack.

He’d been giving his all ever since making deathscythe status to hone his strength and better serve Maka. He’d even been able to hold his own for a surprising amount of time in the sparring ring against Blackstar, and that was a feat in and of itself.

All of the focus on Crona’s rescue had appeared to be wearing on him, though. 

Soul may have accepted Crona into his friend group for Maka’s sake, even empathized with them - but he had never fully trusted the demon sword meister. Although Soul was outwardly friendly towards them, Blackstar noticed the way his friend had watched them like a hawk before they turned back to Medusa. He was always ready for a scenario like that because he had never felt entirely safe around them to begin with.

Not that Maka had bothered to even take Soul’s feelings into consideration before forgiving Crona on his behalf.

She couldn’t have possibly been that dense. She had to have been actively ignoring the signs of Soul’s discomfort because she couldn’t handle acknowledging them.

And now she was doing the same thing all over again even with Crona as far away as the moon. It was obvious that Soul was doing what he always did - shoving his own feelings aside in favor of Maka’s. The loyal mutt of a boy valued her wellbeing far above his own, that was for certain.

He just seemed so exhausted of it all now. Searching tirelessly with Maka for a solution that may not even exist took up much of his time and energy.  

He never had the time to shoot hoops or play video games like he used to, and Blackstar was far above begging for his attention. He stopped even bothering to ask him.

Just for one night though, by some divine luck - everybody was willing to clear their schedule to have a late night dinner at the most beloved and heart-attack inducing burger joint in town. 

Every member of Spartoi was crammed into the largest booth in the restaurant and their chatter was loud enough to fill the whole section. 

There were multiple conversations happening at a time, but Blackstar was zeroing in on Soul who had his chin resting on his palm and that stupid, dopey look he got on his face when he was proud of Maka. Yuck. Keep it in your pants, loverboy.

Maka was next to Soul, his arm stretched out behind her on the booth, while Ox engaged her in a fiery debate over god knows what across the table from her. Judging by the redness in baldy’s face - Maka was on the winning side. He really couldn’t understand Soul’s hard-on for a bossy know-it-all personality, but whatever floats his boat he supposed.  

He decided he’d seen enough of that look on his best friend’s face and crumpled up a straw wrapper, dipping it in his soda and sticking it at the end of his straw.

He blew on the other end, sending the sticky wad of paper flying across the table. The projectile hit its target directly on the cheek.

“Fuck’s sake dude, how old are you?” he grumbled, reaching over the table to grab a handful of napkins to clean his face off with.

Maka snatched some of his napkins for herself, rubbing it vigorously into the flecks of cola that stained her uniform. “You got my shirt all wet, idiot.”

Blackstar simply threw his head back to cackle obnoxiously. “I just thought I should break up your lame little debate team fight before Ox over here pops a blood vessel. You know he can’t handle losing well.”

“I wasn’t losing!” Ox hissed under his breath.

Maka only met her opponent’s glare with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, Maka! What had you stopped to talk with Professor Stein about earlier today?” Tsubaki cut in, obviously attempting to diffuse another argument between the two competitive brainiacs.

Maka’s expression relaxed into something a little more neutral, seemingly caught off guard by the question. Debate-mode successfully disarmed.

“Oh. Well… I just had some questions about my black blood research for him.” 

Blackstar didn’t miss the way Soul tensed up beside her at the mention of black blood. His face was void of any distinct emotion, but something was off in his body language. The way his shoulders squared as if he were instinctively bristling.

Anyone with a shred of social awareness could have deduced that black blood, Medusa, and Crona were not Soul’s favorite topics. It wasn’t unusual for him to shut down and discontinue any contributions to a conversation when any of these things were brought up. 

Unfortunately for Soul, all of those subjects were constantly on Maka’s mind since she began her obsessive pursuit for a solution to Crona’s ordeal.

“Oh? And what did he have to say?” Tsubaki pressed, completely oblivious to the tense situation she was potentially triggering.

“As you’re already aware, there’s not really any official research on the black blood that exists. We’ve been digging through countless books - gathering as much information about madness and Kishins as we can, but it can only get us so far. It would be so much more useful if we could get our hands on a physical sample of the substance itself.”

Soul’s eyes widened in concern, but only for a second before he slipped his usual poker face back on. His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously despite the veneer of calm he displayed.

“Anyways,” she continued, turning to look at Soul, “I was going to talk to you about this later, but maybe some of the black blood still remains in your system? I know we believed it was all gone, but surely there’s some residual amount of it lingering behind? Something we could maybe isolate, extract and create a concentrate of? Stein said it was unlikely, but technically possible. We have to try for Crona, right, Soul?”

He was no longer wearing his mask of apathy. Unmistakeable, visible discomfort was etched into his facial features and he was clenching his hands, knuckles whitening from the pressure. Everyone at the table was hushed and the tension was palpable.

“He doesn’t have to try anything,” Kid’s voice cut sharply through the silence, golden eyes flashing sternly at her.

A soft gasp escaped her and her eyebrows shot up, clearly taken-aback by the sudden burst of hostility from her boss and close friend. Her eyes darkened seconds later, determination setting in.

 “I think that’s his decision to make, and I’d like to hear what he has to say,” she turned her attention back to Soul, hope still shining in her eyes.

He fidgeted with his necktie, loosening it and clearing his throat. “Yeah, s’fine. Whatever you need, I guess.”

Maka’s face lit up into a bright smile that turned Blackstar’s stomach and she pulled Soul into a brief hug. “I knew we could count on you, Soul! You’re the best partner ever.”

“Whatever, it’s no problem. Just try not to drain me of all my blood, alright?” he chuckled weakly, avoiding her eyes in favor of staring a hole in the middle of the table.

She gave an easygoing laugh in response, and went back to conversing with Tsubaki as if she hadn’t just pressured her partner into volunteering himself as a guinea pig for the sake of someone who had literally sliced him open from shoulder to hip and infected him with black blood to begin with.

Is she fucking serious?

Blackstar was practically vibrating with fury from the interaction he’d just watched, and Tsubaki’s normally soothing hand on his shoulder did little to calm him down. When he glanced at Kid, he instantly knew the death god had shared his frustration with Maka’s obliviousness. 

It wasn’t long before Soul abruptly stood from his place at the end of the booth, pulling a twenty out of his wallet and placing it on the table in front of him.

“Soul? What are you doing? The food hasn’t even gotten here yet,” Maka blinked at him in confusion.

“I’m not feelin’ too great - gonna head out, sorry guys. Could you just bring my food back in a to-go box?” he said with an apologetic quirk of his lips. He squeezed her shoulder gently before turning on his heels and making his way out of the diner in long strides.

Why does she look so shocked? Does she really not understand that she’s been hurting him?

After that, the night passed by in a haze for Blackstar. He hardly spoke for the rest of the meal due to the fact that he was using all of his mental capacity to keep his impulse to stand up and loudly call his friend out in front of everybody in check. 

The only thing truly stopping him was the knowledge that Soul would likely be embarrassed and more than a little pissed off if he’d made a big scene over something that he wasn’t even willing to talk about.  

So he waited - held his tongue until he could lash out in private.

As everyone was saying their goodbyes, Blackstar watched her rise from her seat gathering her to-go boxes carefully and giving him a nod of acknowledgement before she headed out.

His eyes bore into the back of her head as she left, and Tsubaki’s hand clamped gently on him for the second time that night. Her eyes were crinkled with a gentle concern.

“I think you should leave this between them. If Soul wanted all of this out in the open, he would have had that conversation with her himself.”

A heavy sigh settled in his chest, “You know how he is. He’s the suffer in silence type and he always does her bidding. If nobody says anything, then nothing’ll change. I just want to talk to her - not like I’m gonna beat her ass or anything … unless she gives me a reason to.” 

“Blackstar,” she chided, fully aware that he would make good on that threat.

“I know, I know. I won’t be long, see ya at home,” he said, throwing up placating hands before stuffing them in his pockets and striding in the direction Maka had gone. 

            _______________________________________________

Maka set her walk home at a leisurely pace, dragging her feet slightly as she watched the sunset bleed into the sky above.

It wasn’t that she was trying to prolong seeing Soul, or that she wasn’t worried about the way he’d acted back in the diner - like something was eating at him. 

She was pretty positive that he wasn’t physically ill, which only left the option of it being an emotional issue. 

And getting Soul to talk about emotional issues was like trying to pull teeth from a temperamental bear. 

She had to figure out a way to go about this delicately, and she had to figure it out soon because their apartment block was fast approaching.

She stopped in her tracks when she felt the presence of a familiar soul behind her. His steps had been so quiet, she wouldn’t have even been aware he was stalking her from behind if it weren’t for her exceptional soul perception abilities.

“I know you’re following me, Blackstar.”

In moments, he was stepping out in front of her. “Wasn’t trying to hide. I need to talk to you,” his voice was uncharacteristically stern.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew Blackstar had some kind of problem with her since dinner. He was deathly quiet and glowering at her for most of the night; very unusual behavior from someone who never shuts up or hesitates to start a fight. 

“Okay, I’m listening,” she said, already preparing to defend herself against whatever absurd argument he wanted to pull her into.

“The whole situation with Crona - have you ever once thought about how Soul feels about it?”

Whatever she had been expecting to come out of his mouth - that wasn’t it.

“What? I mean, I know how Soul feels. He wants Crona to be safe, just like I do. What are you trying to get at?”

“I’m not talking about what he thinks about Crona being stuck in the deathdamned moon, Maka! I mean have you ever thought about how he felt when you forced Crona into his life to begin with? After being sliced open?” 

Maka’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline and her mouth opened and closed a few times, baffled by the question. 

“Soul understands why I welcomed Crona as a friend. He trusts me,” she answered, hoping her voice conveyed the confidence that she couldn’t find in this moment.

This entire conversation was throwing her off.

“Yeah, okay. He accepted your decision because he trusts you, or loves you or whatever the fuck. We all know that - but that doesn’t mean he was comfortable with it. It doesn’t mean he felt safe. He just stuffed his own feelings down, because he knew it made it easier for you.”

Her throat tightened as her own conflicting emotions overcame her. He had no idea what he was talking about. Soul was fine. He’s always been fine. 

“Did he say that to you? That he didn’t feel safe?” she choked out. 

“Soul? You think he tells people things? About his feelings?” he snorted. “No, he doesn’t have to tell me shit. It’s clear on his face every time you mention Crona, or Medusa, or that fucking blood.”

“Maybe you’re just making assumptions about how he feels!” she shouted back, gripping handfuls of the front of his shirt.

He leaned in, completely unfazed by the rage burning in her eyes. “You ever noticed how when Crona was around, he was always watching them out of the corner of his eye - twitching every time they made some sudden move. You ever noticed how quiet and withdrawn he’d get around them? Or any time they were brought up? You didn’t - because you didn’t want to.” 

“Shut up! Y-you’re making something out of nothing. Are you trying to tell me that I should just give up and forget about Crona? That they don’t deserve to have a friend?” 

Some of his aggression was fizzling out as he released a heavy sigh, placing his hands calmly over hers, still clenching in his shirt. “I’m not trying to say that you shouldn’t have helped Crona, or that you shouldn’t keep trying to help them now. I’m only telling you that even if Soul has forgiven and moved on - he’s still a victim of Crona’s actions. He suffered trauma from that, even if he’s too fucking stubborn to admit it. Just acknowledge that maybe he needs a break from thinking about them - all of that shit that happened - every now and then. Get your head out of Crona’s ass long enough to check if he’s okay too.”

She stumbled over wordless sounds as her hands went limp and released their vice-grip on his clothing. She was trying desperately to think of a way to refute the awful things he was saying, but Blackstar wouldn’t give her the chance. 

“If you gave him even half the thought you gave to Crona - maybe you would have noticed it like everybody else has. I just want you to think about it for a bit, that’s all,” his voice softened towards the end, shoulders sagging slightly as he turned away, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of his confrontation.

The heat of tears prickled behind her eyelids and she clenched her fists tightly to her sides. 

She wanted so badly to swing around and scream at Blackstar’s retreating figure that he was wrong, that he had no idea what he was talking about and of course she thinks about her weapon.

But the longer she allowed his harsh words to sink in; the more she could feel the sting of truth settling into her heart.

Had she really been so blind? 

             _______________________________________________

Soul had been laying on his back in bed, hands resting on his stomach and eyes pointed at the ceiling, unmoving for some time. He wasn’t entirely sure how many hours, but he knew his playlist had ended long ago - no music played from the earbuds that were still jammed in his ears.

He couldn’t explain the heaviness in his heart. The anxiety that often set in whenever Maka mentioned Crona or the black blood. It was all water under the bridge, wasn’t it? There was no point in allowing himself to wallow in all the negative emotions that punched him in the gut at the mention of their name. It was selfish to feel those things - it was his job to give Maka his full support. His own feelings were irrelevant.

It was just harder on this particular night. Sure, she droned on about those sore subjects often. Their research revolved around it anyways. He’d just hoped that it could have been different just for one night.

He’d secretly been ecstatic when Maka begrudgingly agreed to shelve her research just long enough to get a late dinner with all of their friends. A break had been long overdue. 

Things had been different between them, after all. They’d been sharing a bed, and they’d even shared a few kisses in the small, rare moments that they’d spent alone together - focused only on each other. They were chaste kisses, but he’d greedily take whatever he could get. 

As she became more frantic about her lack of results in helping Crona, he may as well have not even existed to her. 

He’d just needed that one dinner to pretend things were normal, to pretend as though he was on a date with her and she was willing to spend time with him and think about literally anything aside from her latest fixations. Instead, she’d asked him to play part in some unsound experiment - to prod for things that he hadn’t wanted to find again. It had only been made more uncomfortable by the scrutinizing presence of all of their friends. 

He’d felt used.

Soul perked up at the familiar sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut. He was immediately ashamed of the pavlovian response he had to the sound of his meister returning - the little flip in his heart that made him feel like a stupid dog wagging its tail at the sound of its master.

Just keep to yourself. She doesn’t need to interact with you in this useless state of self pity. You don’t deserve her comfort.

Self-loathing curled in his gut and he kept his eyes stubbornly trained on a water stain in the ceiling.

Suddenly, light flooded into his dark room as his door was hesitantly opened. He reflexively brought himself to sit up on his elbows only to meet a teary-eyed Maka.

All self-indulgent angsty thoughts instantly evaporated from his head, and he was ripping his earbuds out and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get up.

She made purposeful steps across his room, throwing her arms around his neck and forcing him back onto the bed with the motion.

“I’m so sorry, Soul,” she warbled mournfully into his sweater. 

“Huh? Sorry ‘bout what? What’s going on, Maka?” he tried to nudge her into looking up at him, but she adamantly refused.

She took a few shallow breaths before rubbing her wet cheek against the quickly-dampening fabric and looking up at him with dewy eyes.

“I haven’t been a good friend to you - have I? 

Was that a trick question?

“I-I don’t get what we’re talkin’ about here,” he stuttered uselessly, attempting to compensate for his lack of eloquence by brushing his fingers comfortingly through her soft hair.

“I never asked if you felt okay with Crona being around you. I never asked you if you forgave them at all - I just brought them into your space, your home. I just wanted them to have a chance at a normal life so badly - I ignored your pain, and I’m so sorry,” she rushed her confession out like it had been a breath she was holding in.

He had to fight the urge to bark out a laugh. It wasn’t that he found anything that she said humorous - it was just so strange that she was addressing this out of the blue. She’d seemed completely unaware as usual back at the diner, where had this even come from?

He was so lost in thought, he’d almost forgotten to respond and instantly regretted the prolonged silence he’d left her in. “Maka, it’s fine,” he insisted, “I get why you forgave Crona. I admire you for it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you were okay. I should have at least checked on you, or asked you about how you felt - or literally anything,’ she mumbled numbly from his chest.

“Hey. Look at me,” he said, lifting her cheek from its resting place against his sweater, “Sure, I didn’t feel the most comfortable around Crona. I think it was pretty awkward for both of us to be near each other. That doesn’t mean I dislike them, or didn’t want you to be their friend. You can’t beat yourself up over something I hadn’t bothered to tell you.”

His words hadn’t brought the comfort that he’d hoped they would, and her brows remained stubbornly crinkled. “If it had been me - if I was the one who’d been cut by that sword, would you still say that you don’t dislike them? That you’re okay with us being friends?”

It was a question that he instantly knew the answer to, but he was reluctant to say it out loud. He finally caved, bringing his eyes back to hers, “No. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive them if it was you.”

She closed her eyes tightly, nodding her head in grim acceptance of that truth. She had likely known that would be his answer already, but hearing it must have been difficult.

“But I love that about you. You have so much compassion. I only care for the few people that I’ve decided I love - I don’t have room in my heart for others like you do. I’d like to be more like you,” he whispered reverently, taking her cheeks in both of his hands and briskly wiping away all of the moisture he could reach with his thumbs.

“I should’ve had more compassion for you,” she lamented softly under her breath, eyes downcast.

“You’re not a fuckin’ mind reader, Maks. It was my choice not to bring anything up.”

She nodded slowly, but the way her grip tightened on him only confirmed his suspicion that she wasn’t going to forgive herself for it.

Minutes passed before a word was spoken, but Soul eventually cleared his throat. “You know, I don’t expect you to ever stop being friends with Crona, or to give up on rescuing them. I don’t want that. I don’t mind helping you like you’d asked earlier tonight, too. If that’s what you need from me, then I’m here.”

She brought herself to her elbows on top of him to get a better view of his face.

“I know. I’m not going to give up on them. But It matters to me that you’re happy too, and if that means you need a break from all that, then I want you to know that it’s okay to ask for that.”

“Right, I’ll keep that in mind,” he said in a hushed tone, distracting himself with a piece of her hair twirled between his fingers.

“And I don’t want to use your blood for research. It was wrong of me to even think of asking you that. We’ll find another way,” she assured him, voice tightening with emotion, “I definitely got carried away with all of this. It wasn’t healthy, and I really am sorry I’ve pushed you away in the process. We can’t solve this thing if we don’t have time to properly take care of ourselves. You’ve been working so hard with me, and I think we need more actual quality time together.”

“Yeah, I could get on board with that. I kinda walked out on dinner tonight, so how about we do something - just you and me tomorrow? Movies sound good?”

“Movies sounds great,” she hummed in agreement, hands idly playing with his hair.

As much as he would have preferred for her to continue her ministrations, he stopped her movements to grasp her hand, bringing it to his chest to rest above where she knew his scar was. He pressed down on her hand lightly.

“I’m glad it happened. I’m glad they gutted me, ‘cause I hadn’t understood what you meant to me till that moment,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head.

She only exhaled shakily, hand tightening against the evidence of his devotion.

“I just hate that it took a lecture from Blackstar of all people for me to realize that I’d been hurting you.”

His eyes widened a little at that new piece of information. Blackstar was the one that brought all of this on her mind? He could’ve sworn it would have been Kid if anyone. He couldn’t help but feel a little touched that Blackstar had been so concerned about him, but he was also somewhat irritated that his friend had distressed Maka as much as he had.

“Blackstar, huh? Remind me to have a conversation with him about mindin’ his own business,” he laughed half-heartedly.

“No, don’t. I’m glad that he said what he did - I needed to hear it,” she urged him.

“Doesn’t matter. He didn’t have to make my girlfriend cry from guilt over bein’ friends with someone,” he muttered, but his face immediately burned a bright red as soon as he’d caught what he’d called her.

She was a similar shade, holding her breath as well as his gaze with a tortuously difficult to decipher expression on her face.

“That is, uh- I mean… fuck.”  

Very articulate. Great job, Soul.

He hadn’t needed to agonize over whether or not he’d just fucked everything between them for long because her face soon melted into a warm, genuine smile.

“Girlfriend, huh?” she said with a glimmer of mischief in her eye.

“I’d like that. If that’s w-what you want,” he wanted to kick himself for the voice crack he just experienced. Not cool in the slightest. 

At least she got a good giggle out of it. The melodic sound squeezed something in his chest and he swallowed nervously as a response.

She brushed back his bangs, leaning in to place a soft kiss to his forehead. She peppered a trail of kisses down his cheek until she reached his lips. 

This kiss was far from chaste. She cradled his cheek and jaw as she slanted her mouth sweetly over his, pressing fervently, constantly moving against him and eliciting a breathy moan from him that he would never admit to making. 

When she tried to separate, he followed her, bumping noses for a moment and giving the corner of her mouth a few more enthusiastic pecks before backing up and allowing her room to look at his face. 

“Girlfriend sounds nice, actually,” she smiled broadly, letting her fingers brush against the back of his neck.

“Glad that’s settled, then,” he laughed easily, not even bothering to feel any embarrassment over the flush of his skin or the lightness of his breath.

He crushed her to his chest, and they stayed like that for a while, just listening to the other’s loudly beating hearts until they were lulled to sleep. 

He’d have to thank Blackstar with a game of basketball later.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars/Rebels) Rebels!Rex x Reader: Hope

(Author’s Note: Sooo this is a neat request I got! I REALLY hope you don’t mind that I tweaked it a tad!!!!  And I hope you like it!!!!  Highkey this almost had me crying at the end, oh my.  It’s tough for me to write Rebels era Rex because in my mind he’s forever young ;^;  But I really did enjoy this request, and thank you!

OG Request: What about a Rebels Rex x reader reunion where the reader died during order 66, but became a ghost. So she sticks with Kanan and the ghost crew, when they get Rex back she stays invisible so that he can't see her because she thinks that he moved on. Something happens and he sees her, she hides and he has to hunt her down and convince her that they could make it work.)

   “_________,” Kanan said gently.  He stood at the doorway to your quarters, eyes full of concern.  “I know this is hard for you.  Believe me, I don’t like it any more than you do, but...you can’t hide forever.  The others are worried about you.”  You materialized in the middle of the room, eyes downcast and arms wrapped around your form in an attempt for comfort.  Kanan stepped inside the room, allowing the door to slide shut behind him.  “The clones took everything from us.  They betrayed the jedi and killed so many…” The bridge of his nose crinkled as the rest of his face twisted with pain at the memories.  Bitterness came off him in waves.

   “Kanan, you misunderstand,” you whispered, walking over to take a seat at the edge of your bunk.  “That’s not why I’m hesitant to reveal myself to the men who we’ve teamed up with.  The truth is...I don’t entirely blame them.”

   “What?” he asked in disbelief.  “How could you not?”  

   “Remember, Kanan, I was a jedi knight when Order 66 went through.  You only remember part of the story because you were so young.  The men were under Sidious’ control.  We can’t hold that against them.”

   He folded his arms, as if his point still stood.  “Then why are you hiding?”

   At that, your eyes returned to the floor.  “Because I know those men.  I knew Captain Rex quite well back in the day.”

   Kanan’s eyes widened.  “You mean…”

   “I know.  It was against my code and his regulations, but we were together.  I...I loved him.  I was off on another mission when Order 66 was given.  The troops I was working with fired at me, and that’s when the accident happened.”

   “The accident that left you a ghost.  But it wasn’t an accident, _________.  Your soldiers betrayed you and shot at the energy field behind you.  They-”

   You sighed.  “Kanan, I’m not a force ghost.”  When he gave you a skeptical look, you continued, “I can walk through walls and vanis, but think about it.  Have you ever seen a ghost stick around this long?  Or actually have the ability to materialize a physical form like I do?”

   “Can’t say I’ve had too many encounters with them in the first place,” he mumbled.

   “The accident turned my body into energy.  They didn’t take my life.”

   “__________.”  He closed his eyes and shook his head.  “That doesn’t excuse what they did, and I don’t blame you for not wanting to face them.”

   “Rex didn’t do this to me anyway.  He’s a good man, and I never stopped loving him.  I just don’t want him to see me this way.  He has probably been moved on for some time now, and he’s going to be upset.”

   “He should.”

   “Kanan!” you scolded.  “That’s enough.  I get that you’re still hurting.  I understand.  Really, I do.  I just don’t need to hear this right now.”

   He released a sigh, resting a hand on your shoulder.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.”

    Just then, the door to your quarters slid open.  You vanished on instinct, but it appeared that you hadn’t gone quickly enough.  A familiar pair of eyes stared wide at the spot you had previously sat beside Kanan.  Though you recognized them instantly, they belonged to an aged face.

   “___________?  I knew it.  It is you.”

   Kanan glanced around awkwardly while you remained invisible.  “Um…”

   “I thought I saw ___________ earlier.  I thought that maybe it was just all in my head, but she’s here, isn’t she?”

   “Look, Rex…”

   “Please,” Rex pleaded.  “Please tell me where I can find her.  I never knew what happened to her after the Republic fell.  I know you don’t like me but-”

   “I’m right here,” you said, materializing.  Rex’s eyes widened and  mouth fell open.  “I didn’t want you to see me this way.”

   “___________, what happened to you?”

   The sympathy and in his voice caused you to feel a familiar ache in your chest.  It was overwhelming.  For years you had wondered, just as he did, what happened.  For years you tried to come to terms with never seeing him again.  But there he was standing in front of you.  In fact, he was walking over.

   “Wait,” you said quickly.  “I...I can’t.”  You vanished again, this time hearing him call out,

   “No!”  You hurried past him and ran straight through the closed door.  You heard him on the other side.  “I’m going to find her.”

   - - - - - - - - - - - - -  

   “___________,” you heard Rex’s voice pant.  “There you are.”

   “Rex, I’m sorry about earlier.”

   “Don’t worry about it.”  A strained groan escaped his lips as he lowered himself to sit beside you.  “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

   You hugged your knees to your chest as you gazed out at the setting sun from the roof of the ship.  The sky glowed a variety of lovely colors; orange, pink, and even a little purple.  For the first time since seeing Rex again, you felt at peace.  Sitting beside him felt normal even after all that time.  “What do you mean?”

   “After Order 66 was given, I had quite the adventure.  Ahsoka helped me get the chip out of my head so that I would no longer carry out the order.”  He sighed.  “I looked everywhere for you after that.  Even some of my brothers told me that the worst may have happened, but I always had hope.  I never stopped looking.  I never stopped- I never stopped loving you.”

   “Rex,” you whispered.  “What we had was great, but it was a long time ago.  So much has changed since then.  We were young, and we had no idea what the galaxy would become.”

   “What are you talking about?” He gave a hearty laugh.  “We’re still young, and there’s a new hope.”

   You looked over at him, meeting those eyes that held so much warmth in them.  Even with the crinkles around his eyes and the white beard, in your eyes he was the same Rex you knew back then.  Memories began to flash across your mind like a holovid playing in front of you.  Memories of stolen glances across the strategy meetings and debriefings, secret kisses when no one was looking, and many battles fought side-by-side.

   “What happened to the serious captain I knew?” you smiled.

   “He lightened up a bit.”  Rex chuckled.  You ventured to reach out a hand to rest its palm on his cheek, and he instinctively relaxed into the touch, closing his eyes and exhaling.  “__________, do you still love me?”

   “Of course I do.”

   “Then we can make this work.  Like I said, I don’t want to lose you again.  Ever.”  He reached up to gently place his hand over yours, opening his eyes to gaze at you with determination.  Your breath caught in your throat.

   “A-alright.”

   His eyes glinted then, the same way they used to when you’d look at him from across a briefing, and he leaned in to wrap his arm around your form and pull you against him.  He tipped your chin up and captured your lips in a kiss.  You giggled, and he pulled away.  “What?”

   “Nothing, it’s just,” you giggled again, tears spilling from your eyes.  “The beard.  It tickles.”

   “Oh yeah?” he laughed, leaning in to playfully swipe his beard across your cheek, sending you into a fit of giggles as you tried to break free from his embrace.  Then, he let you catch your breath.  “I missed you.”

   “I missed you too.”  You pressed a kiss to his hand.  “And you’re right.  There is hope.”

[gifted-burnout-archive]

Driving Home For Christmas

Word Count: 3.8K+

Author’s Note: we’re back bitches, and with new stories every day until the 25th!! and we had to start with our favourite star herself, julie molina, because of course! i loved writing this, we love brother alex, we love having last names for the fucking characters!!!

Pairings: julie x reader - brother!alex mercer x reader - willie x alex

Warnings: fluffiness!!

--

The Mercer children hated spending their Christmas holidays in Aspen. In fact, there wasn’t anything the siblings hated more.

The luxurious ski resort cabin certainly had charms: the hot tub on the porch, the on demand hot chocolate, the fast passes to get on the slopes ahead of the general public, and that was all before you got to the world renowned chef, Portia, that was on-call twenty four hours of the day, seven days a week, able to make whatever their hearts desired. Anyone else might have thought the resort, covered in snow and holiday decorations, like a scene from one of those Hallmark Christmas movies that are always just on in December, was the perfect winter wonderland, and the sort of place anyone would die to spend the end of their year.

But Alex and Y/N Mercer didn’t hate Aspen; they hated their passively-homophobic parents and extended family that always showed up to ruin the festive cheer. Whether it was by berating the heir to the family fortune about his boyfriend back home in California; or their consistent pestering of Alex’s younger sister Y/N about when the girl would find herself a decent, upstanding boyfriend, like she hadn’t spent her entire childhood until the last year stuck in an array of all girls’ boarding schools across the great United States.

With the pros of the cabin weighed out by the con of their family, it came to be that on Christmas Eve the brother and sister sat amongst the slow-moving traffic on some interstate between the Colorado ski lodge and home, in sunny California, already ten hours into their drive.

“I still can’t believe… Dad is going to kill us, you know?” Alex said, swaying along to the song playing softly from the beaten up car’s stereo, his knees pulls up to his chest thanks to the bags that sat in the footwell. The car was overflowing, a mixture of luggage and gifts for those waiting on the other side of the sunshine state’s border.

Whatever snow adorned the old red car roof had been melted away the closer they got to the coast, the driver more and more grateful with every slow passing mile that she had saved up to buy her own mode of transportation. She hadn’t followed in her older brother’s footsteps of taking dad up on the offer of a car: the high-tech monstrosity Alex drove around Los Angeles was the sort of car that would be shut down remotely if stolen: Y/N’s car could barely get a radio signal.

“Dad will kill me; he needs you to complete some masterplan. Wanna theorise about what private institution he’ll send me to next?” Y/N asked with a smile to her older brother, the pair sharing a laugh in the glow of red brake lights.

Their relationship had always been easy: Alex was his little sister’s best friend, and he hers. Whether that was because money led to lonely children, or because they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company beyond their sibling obligations, the pair didn’t bother to find out. They were close, and that was what mattered to them.

“He’s running out of them now, you know. How many was it before you convinced him Los Felix was the answer to all your problems?” Alex asked with a raised eyebrow and smirk, leaning an elbow on the central divider of the tiny car, avoiding the sharp edge of a ski blade to tease his sister with a knowing look. “Was it seventeen or-”

“Twenty-four… I made a point to average it out to one every four months or so. Keeps mom and dad on their toes, makes the disappointment even more apparent when I show up on the doorstep again.” Y/N cut in, correcting her brother, the blonde boy taking her free hand and squeezing it.

“At least we keep disappointing them together…” He offered as words of solace, their hands breaking apart upon the movement of traffic, red lights dimming as the cars began rolling forward at a steady pace. “Thank you, Smalls… For this whole thing.” The nickname he used so often rang in Y/N’s ears and made her smile.

Her brother meant the words, she knew it: he had pleaded with their parents before they left to stay in California, with Reggie or Julie or Luke, but the mention of his bandmates had ended the conversation and turned it into their dad reprimanding Alex for his ‘fanciful’ mindset. The drummer never stood a chance against the united front that was their parents: they knew he wanted to stay for Willie, of course he did: the two had been planning their Christmas vacation together since Halloween, dates to the ice rink at Santa Monica Mall, to the university for lectures, to the movies to catch old Christmas movies on the silver screen. Half the reason their parents had forced Aspen onto the kids once again was because Alex had found his person, and Willie found Alex, and Mr and Mrs Mercer would do a fair amount to convince the general public, themselves, and Alex that he wasn’t gay.

The other half was because Y/N was pretty sure she had found her person too.

“Don’t sweat it, Alex.” She shrugged, moving up a gear as the traffic finally began to move towards an expected speed for the freeway. “Hearing mom and dad shout at us once they sober up enough to realise we’re gone? Priceless.” She let a regular smirk rest on her lips, indicating to take the upcoming turnoff, hopeful she might hit easy driving instead of the stop and start. The sun was setting before them, the sky painted shades of yellow and orange and pink and purple into the deep blue of the encroaching night, despite the time on her car dashboard only reading 16:42. It would be gone within the next few minutes, and the driver switched on her headlights in response.

“Alexander Washington Mercer! How dare you defy me in such a way: you know better than to follow your little sister so blindly!” Alex yelled into the cramped space, impersonating their father with the gruff voice the man in question used, like he constantly had a cough in his throat he couldn’t dislodge.

“Y/N Y/M/N Mercer! I expected better from a young lady of your fine standing! How are we meant to find you a good husband if you run off with your brother like you haven’t a care in the world?” IT was Y/N’s turn to impersonate a parent: the shrill shriek of their mother, Y/N raising a hand a messing with the locket around her neck the same way their mother fiddled with her pearls when she was distressed. The two shared a look through their chuckles.

“It’s just a phase!” They said in chorus, the line their parents most often used in arguments against either of the pair. The laughter died away with the words, both letting out a soft, melancholic sighs, and falling into a comfortable silence. They were just skirting the outside of Las Vegas, Nevada, with at least another six hours of driving left by the state of the road, Y/N joining the back of another queue of cars all headed somewhere.

“Driving home for Christmas. Oh, I can't wait to see those faces, I'm driving home for Christmas, yea. Well I'm moving down that line. And it's been so long, but I will be there. I sing this song to pass the time away. Driving in my car, driving home for Christmas…” Alex turned the volume dial, letting the song play out, beginning to sway along to the radio once again, humming a harmony line over Chris Rea’s raspy lyrics.

Y/N always like that: that her big brother was so musical. She had spent so long away form him, at every other boarding school in the country, she forgot how talented Alex was sometimes. IT was only getting to see him and his band perform the year before that she really clicked to her brother’s undeniable star power, and that ability was shared amongst his friends. But it wasn’t just his talent that made Y/N happy, but that fact that she never saw her brother happier than when he was performing with his ‘other’ family.

In truth, they were hers too… One of them was why she was racing home so eagerly, why she had masterminded the entire escape for her and Alex. Neither of them would have been able to survive another minute with the monsters they unfortunately call relatives.

By the time they had passed Las Vegas and were closing in on the California border, the dashboard read 19.53. The countless games of ‘eye-spy’ and ‘would you rather’ grew old quickly, replaced for an hour by Alex reading out the pages of the closest book they could scavenge amongst the piles of presents and luggage, one of Y/N’s art textbooks. That then turned onto Alex recovering his drumsticks, tapping and singing along with the radio as Christmas song after Christmas song played.

“Smalls, what if we don’t make it?” Alex posed the question for the first time that night, and Y/N was honestly shocked it took her big brother so long to reach his usual state of worry. “What if we drove all this way and we don’t make it in time?”

“Relax, Alex, honestly… Look, we’ll get there when we get there. No-one even knows we’re coming, it’ll be fun, a surprise!” Y/N suggested, stopping herself for continuing to press down on her car horn, honking in anger at the dude who just cut in front of them. “Fucking asshole.” She muttered, looking back to her brother to be met with a face of surprise.

“How is it that I am always labelled the emotional one?” The question made Y/N smile, reaching over and patting on the blonde locks atop her brother’s head.

“Because rage isn’t emotion, it’s power.” Y/N quoted their dad again, putting on the gruff voice Alex had portrayed hours before, letting her neck roll and crack out air pockets once the words hung in the air. “With your little bandmates, it may not be true, but in this car? It most certainly is.” She reminded turning her eyes back to the road and putting the car back in gear to drive, following the car in front as the traffic began to move again.

--

“You know, I never thought church would be that fun! Is it always like that, or do they just ram up the wow factor for the holidays?” Reggie asked as he followed close on the footsteps of the Molina family, Luke to his right as he received glances from those surrounding him. “What?! I’m not exactly the person you’d expect to head on over to midnight mass every year, dude.” Reggie defended, Ray unlocking the front door of the house before turning around and placing a hand on the bassist’s shoulder.

“Well, we were glad to have you along with us, Reggie. Glad to have you for the holiday too, both of you, in fact.” Ray opened the statement to Luke, whose eyes darted up and were followed by a bright grin.

“Glad to be here, Mr Molina.” The guitarist responded with a dashing smile before rushing inside, his destination quite certainly the fridge, where Carlos was already searching for snacks before bed.

The Molina family had kept the tradition of midnight mass ever since Julie was little, a chance for some spiritual connection to the holiday season as well as familial. That year, with the Peters and Pattersons off on a Bahama cruise, Ray had welcomed Julie’s best friends and bandmates with open arms. The only thing that would have made it better was the Mercer kids.

It seemed to be why, while the boys all gravitated to chocolate chip cookies and warm milk before bed, Julie had idled over to the window, her eyes drifting out into the front yard, searching for someone who wasn’t going to show up.

“Mija…” Ray said softly, watching his daughter from across the room, a soft smile tracing his lips as she let out a yawn. “Mija, you should be going to sleep. Papá Noel won’t deliver his gifts if you stay awake all night staring out a window.”

“But dad…”

“I know it sucks, honey, but we’ll see them at New Years, right? And tomorrow we’ll have Flynn’s family and tía and Willie all over for food.” Ray reminded, and Julie let out a sigh, finally diverting her eyes from the window and up to her dad, his hand outstretched for her to take. She took it, and Ray lifted his daughter to her feet and into a hug. “I love you sweetie, now go get ready for bed. I have to round up your friends before they eat all the food in the house.”

With that, Julie gave up on the sliver of hop she had held for that night, shuffling up the stairs somewhat defeated. She knew it wouldn’t happen, in the back of her head she knew it wouldn’t happen, but she had really hoped Alex and Y/N would just show up, out of the blue, and surprise them all by spending Christmas back home, with them, with her. Of course, Mr and Mrs Mercer were far from nice people, far from unwealthy people: the idea of their kids spending Christmas at the Molinas was probably something they flat out refused to even think about.

It didn’t take long for Julie to get into her Christmas-themed pyjamas and brush her teeth, tying her hair into braids and tidying them back with a cap for the night: her night time routine was one she knew well, and was efficient in doing. Her makeup washed its way down the bathroom sink, her glasses perched themselves onto the slight dents the pads had carved into the sides of her nose, her blue monster slippers kept her feet warm as she shuffled back to her room and into her bed. She tried to focus on the better parts of the day: of making gingerbread houses and rehearsing Christmas songs with the guys, of putting up the final decorations on the tree in the living room while trying to avoid her father’s cries of anguish over another badly wrapped present from the other room.

But she couldn’t help but think about how much better it would have been had Alex been banging on his drumkit, how much happier he would have felt spending Christmas Eve with Y/N by her side…

The thought had Julie grabbing at her nearest pillow, squeezing it under crossed arms as she scrunched her eyes shut and willed sleep to come. At least if she slept, she wouldn’t be thinking about Alex and Y/N being trapped with their not-so-nice family in some snowed in cabin in some mid-west mountains, not consciously anyway.

tap.

A noise, one Julie excused as a creak of the house floorboards or a falling branch from the tree outside, seemed to echo in her near silent room, save the girl’s breathing.

tap.

This time, Julie’s eyes darted open, though she refused to move. Two was a coincidence, there were plenty of explanations for two almost identical sounding taps spaced apart almost perfectly.

“JULIE!” A loud whisper sounded from outside the girl’s window.

Now, that wasn’t coincidence.

The girl jumped out of bed, rushing over to her window in a blur of sequined candy cane pyjamas, muddling with the latch on her window before opening it up wide to the chill of LA winter air, her eyes darting across the grounds below to find the source of the noise. A part of her wondered if she might be dreaming, if it might have all been the saddest and happy dreams because she’d wake up any moment and the sight would be gone.

But there they stood, Alex and Y/N, in her driveway, the latter’s car parked behind them and looking like it most certainly drove for nineteen hours straight.

“Dad!” Julie called back into the house, the smile on her face brighter than any of the Christmas lights Y/N had seen on their drive through the residential district. “Dad, we have some extra guests.” She finished, her calls waking Carlos, Luke and Reggie in the process of alerting Ray, the windows of the house suddenly lighting up and the household woke for good news.

With a final grin out the window, Julie disappeared from Y/N’s sight, to no doubt meet her and Alex by the front door, and the pit in her stomach Y/N had tried to ignore for the entire car journey from Colorado seemed to only get bigger, louder, more persistent, now they had finally arrived back in California, in LA, at the Molinas. She had initially pinned the feeling to adrenaline from disoberying her parents, from packing up her car and driving almost a full day to arrive three states west of her original destination.

Looking at the house’s front porch, a muddle of Christmas gifts in both her and her brother’s hands, Y/N came to the conclusion that the pit wasn’t because of leaving Aspen: it was because of arriving in LA.

“I’m not going to ask how you made it or why you are here, but we are happy to see you all the same.” Ray’s kindly tone and words brought Y/N from her thoughts, blinking away the haze to find the door now open, Alex, Reggie and Luke in a tight embrace with presents scattered over the driveway, and Ray standing in front of her with Carlos by his side. “I would suggest one of you text your parents’ that you are safe though.” He added with a chuckle, opening his arms for Y/N to rush into, the pair embracing in a tight hug.

“Nice to be home, Mr Molina.” She replied with a smile as the pair broke apart, only for Alex to take the next slot of hugging Julie’s literal, and the four other teens’ figurative, dad.

“I made up the spare room just in case, you know. Julie’s request.” Ray added, gesturing with a thumb back to the front door, forcing Y/N’s eyes to follow.

She was so beautiful, every time Y/N saw Julie Molina her breath escaped her body, her limbs became heavy, her mind fogged: her heart began beating at a pace too fast for her body and her lips lost any real words.

“I thought you’d be in Aspen until the day after Boxing Day.” Julie said with a shy smile, the five guys in the front yard glancing amongst themselves before Carlos cleared his throat.

“I think we should put the presents under the tree!” The ten year old declared, scooping up some of Alex’s dropped gifts and marching inside, prompting Ray and Luke to do the same. Alex rans back to the car, retrieving the last straggler gifts from the car’s back seat while Reggie relieved Y/N of the stacks of presents in her own hands, save one. The two teens shared a smile, Reggie going the extra mile to pass on a wink of good luck to the younger Mercer before the bassist and drummer both disappeared into the house, leaving Julie and Y/N alone.

“I uh, I made a decision… A decision to kidnap my brother and drive a day across country.” Y/N managed to get the words out without too much difficulty, trying to get over the cotton mouth she was experiencing. “Because I didn’t want to spend the holidays without the people I love most.” She added, finally reconnecting her leg movements to her brain and walking across the driveway to meet Julie at the foot of the porch steps.

“Without the people you love most?” Julie questioned, taking a step closer, the girls standing toe to toe, Julie looking up at Y/N with doe eyes that could melt diamonds.

“Without the girl I love most.” Y/N corrected herself, tucking the small gift box she held into her back pocket. The words were seemingly sufficient enough in hello, as Julie launched herself onto her girlfriend, their lips crashing together in sweet harmony for the first time in weeks, thanks to the Mercer parents.

Y/N’s hands cupped Julie’s face as they shared in the sweet, intimate moment, Julie’s hands pulling Y/N closer by her t-shirt. Their lips colliding was the action required to dissipate that pit in Y/N’s stomach completely, her senses in overdrive finally being close to her girlfriend again. The smell of Julie’s perfume, the minty taste of toothpaste still on her lips, her glasses brushing against Y/N’s cheek. For Julie, it was much the same experience: the kiss made her head spin, overcome by the smell of Y/N’s car air freshener and the taste of red vines on her lips.

The pair broke apart after a few moments, their foreheads pressing together as peaceful silence washed over them, the cool breeze counteracted by the red heat that had risen to both girls’ cheeks.

“I wouldn’t want to spend Christmas with anyone else.” Y/N breathed out softly, one hand taking Julie’s in hers, the other retrieving the gift from her back pocket. “Mostly because I missed you like crazy, partly because I wanted to give you this.” She explained, the girl before her grinning and taking the gift box offered with bubbling excitement.

“Can I open it now?” Julie asked, and Y/N glanced at the watch on her wrist.

“I mean, it’s technically Christmas so…” Y/N giggled when Julie let out a shout of joy, pulling off the ribbon holding the box shut and shimmy-ing the lid off, to reveal a small potion-looking bottle amongst tissue paper. Julie lifted it out of the box, a small key glinting in the porch light within the bottled, caught in mid-air by invisible strings withing the decorative gift.

“It’s so beautiful… What is it?” Julie asked, pure curiosity in her words as she looked at the bottle in wonder. In response, Y/N pulled her locket out from beneath her shirt, gesturing to a small keyhole on the front Julie had never noticed adorning one of the girl’s most essential items before.

“That, Miss Molina.” Y/N started, grinning from ear to ear, exuding a shaky confidence that seemed like it might falter at any second. “That is the key to my heart.”

“Y/N…”

“I love you Julie.” They had never said it so directly before, ever. They always skirted round the actual words, always knew what the other meant without need for clarification. But under the porch light of the Molina residence, unaware of Alex, the guys, Ray and Carlos watching from the living room window, after having driven through so much traffic just to try and get to her on time for Christmas, and with Julie standing there in her festive pyjamas and blue fuzzy slippers and looking at her like that, Y/N had never felt more sure of something in her life.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Julie promised, pulling her girlfriend close again, the kiss shared this time chaste, though no less sweet.

“Merry Christmas, Molina.”

“Merry Christmas, Mercer.”

 --

Tags (some people I think might like this festive nonsense): @reggiesleatherjacket @parkeret @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @delicatelukepatterson @lukespatterson @kcd15 @siennanoelle01 @eries45 @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @reggieandthereggies @writerinlearning @mjflower @uhmitstori @walkingonshunshine @kristencoontz @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ritz-hell-hotel @mishappend @dovegranger @dmcfarland1 @cherrymaybank @oswinsleaf​ @only-here-for-jatp​ @jatpfan99​ @n0wornever​ @bookdealer5​

--

Twelve Days Of Christmas: 2/12 will be released in 24 hours! Who will our story focus on? Can you guess? I’ll give you a hint: we’ll be going back to 1990s...

[bubbleteaa]

Fragile as a cherry blossom petal [ushijima wakatoshi x reader]

Fragile as a cherry blossom petal; pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader warnings: Tons of feelings, like, a lot; some angst, just a lil bit. words: 5233 uwu

Summary: When he saw you, you seemed so fragile, just like the cherry blossom petals that fell around you; little he knew, that the fragile petal was him.

*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧*･ﾟ*

The cool April wind hit his face as he ran. His mind was blank, his legs moved automatically. Ushijima could feel the droplets of sweat slipping down his jaw. He turned, decided to change his rhythm and began to slow down, his eyes peeled off the way to observe the cherry blossoms dancing to the rhythm of the wind, he breathed deeply, usually did not pay attention to him around when exercising. Everything was a routine, warmed up, ran, returned to Shiratorizawa and practiced with the rest of the club. But, for a moment, his routine was affected by observing the beautiful pink petals.

Then he stopped. He stopped running and kept watching. For some reason, no matter how many times he saw the same petals, his breath was always stolen. They looked so fragile. Maybe, just maybe that's what motivated him to see them. Their delicacy.

He heard a rather low, almost faint sneeze, he turned almost instantly. On one of the benches, he observed a girl sitting with a notebook in his hands, watching Wakatoshi curiously, but only with that. Ushijima's face didn't express anything.

"Bless you" he caught the way to say, his words slipped through his mouth very gently, but he sounded harshly anyway. He looked at her again. She was writing something on his cell phone.

'That's kind of rude,' he thought. She hadn't thanked him, he didn't care much, really; but, she was still rude. Just before taking his gaze off the girl's figure, she raised her cell phone towards him and smiled genuinely at him.

"Thank you, sorry to take me a while to respond. I'm mute."

Oh.

"You don't have to apologize" he replied. Internally he felt ashamed, never thought the girl in front of him did not have the ability to speak.

She wrote again, Wakatoshi was just watching her. He looked at the other objects that were near her, a backpack, a pen and a coat. He noticed the coat for several seconds, trying to see which academy he belonged to.

Not recognizing the name, he turned his sight to the young woman. She didn't stop smiling at any point. Why was she smiling so much? Did he have something on his face?

"My name is Y/N. What yours?"

"Ushijima Wakatoshi" he responded by looking her in the eye. They were shiny, they kept showing him that kindness, that softness, that fragility.

Her smile gradually disappeared and then she got up. Ushijima stared at her. Maybe it was time to go, maybe it was a little rude to just stared at her, perhaps his tone of voice and the way he watched her was intimidating.

But again she smiled at him. She wasn't near him, but she wasn't far. Her body was small, dwarf in front of him. And she looked so small, so fragile.

He watched her write something on her cell phone and looked back at her figure. Fragile. Everything in her yelled fragility at her. Weakness. Delicacy. He blinked and it was the longest blink he had ever taken. When he opened his eyes, he could read what had been written.

"I'm sorry if this seems very strange, Ushijima-kun. Can I draw you? I need to draw someone for an art project. It doesn't matter if you don't want to, I'll understand. I know you think I'm weird, " the last sentence gets stuck in his head. Had she done anything to give her that perception?

He didn't know what to answer. He had already wasted a lot of time in his distractions; but he didn't want to leave because if he did, immediately the girl in front of his eyes would think that his words are made, when they don't come close to reality.

The ace looked for a second at the cherry trees and then directed his gaze to Y/n.

"Sure."

.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

"Wakatoshi-kun, you were a little late today", Tendou's voice drew him from his thoughts. Blinked a couple of times as I drank water "Did you get distracted?"

"I was with a girl."

"WHAT?!" they all turned his head at the same time towards Ushijima, he continued to drink water with great peace of mind. His gaze remained static even as Tendou began to question him about this supposed female figure who had caused it to arrive an hour and a half late to practice.

Yes, he had been with Y/n. And surprisingly, he didn't want to go back to the practice because the young woman's presence was addictive. He was not a person of many words and she could not speak, but, the silence was comfortable, she was kind and quite interesting. Her smile was still drawn in his mind delicately, a beautiful smile. Such a delicate smile, so fragile.

He remembered when she showed her the final result of the drawing and Wakatoshi could not help but smile. She was talented and she knew she was. She looked so happy, so euphoric when she began to thank him for allowing her to draw him. He also noticed that the young woman liked to talk quite a bit. He ended up telling her that he was the captain of Shiratorizawa's Volleyball team and that at the same time he was the ace. He immediately noticed that the girl with e/c colored eyes did not know what she was talking about, so he explained to her.

And she ended up stopping at that point to smile at him. Ushijima swore that he felt that his world stopped when she saw her tiptoe to caress her hair. Didn't you think it was disgusting? He was a little sweaty and that definitely wasn't the behavior anyone would have with him. Ushijima was intimidating, he's intimidating.

"Do I have something in my hair?"

"No, I'm just trying to say you're doing a good job. Toshi-kun" It didn't take long to write those words to him, but Ushijima could feel his heart start beating uncontrollably by the nickname.

Toshi.

Even after the break was over, the smile, the scent, the figure, everything Y/n kept cornering him in his thoughts.

He didn't want to leave because he wanted to keep seeing her smile in contrast to the sakura flowers falling near her. She looked very beautiful, well, and Y/n is beautiful, he had noticed that the moment she smiled at him for the first time. That's why when she gave him her cell phone and asked him to give him his number, he found it strange. Shouldn't he take the first step? But he wasn't upset or uncomfortable, because he wanted to get to know her more, no matter what barriers there might be due to her condition.

How could I deny her anything?

When he was finished, Tendou continued to ask him. He kept it going to finish answering because he was already asking something else. After he finished changing, he checked his cell phone and his eyes revealed a little glow full of emotion as he read Y/n's message.

His companions watched him and couldn't believe what they saw.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was smiling while writing something on his cell phone.

"Oh" Ushijima did not react to the redhead's words. He pressed to send and then raised his sight. The third-year-olds watched him with his eyes wide open, trying to observe what he had written "Do you like someone, Wakatoshi-kun?~"

When Ushijima looked up, he immediately felt his cell phone vibrate.

"One second, Tendou"

"You definitely like her"

"She's a pretty interesting person," he replied. He kept walking until he stopped, observing Shiratorizawa's entrance.

"Aren't you afraid to get in trouble, Wakatoshi-kun?~"

He hadn't told Y/n that they had dorms, so she thought they'd walk home together. He couldn't let her go alone at that time of night.

L/N had told him that she also belonged to a club, specifically the art club; Ushijima was unaware of many things besides volleyball, so when the girl started telling him about the national performances, the boy was clueless. She took her time to explain, and he understood immediately. Her dream was to be able to be known for what she liked, and that her disability would not stop her. She told him that sometimes no words were needed to show her feelings, that she learned it in the roughest way, but that she did not imagine what her life would be like with the ability to speak. A lot of things would be easier, and a lot of things wouldn't have crossed his mind, maybe he wouldn't have had a chance to meet him.

That's why she was working on extra hours and creating new pieces of art to be able to have an outstanding place. Hours and overtime. Although, he couldn't criticize her. I'd be hypocritical.

But... always go alone at this time of night at home?

What if someone hurt him?

Or did something happen and you disappeared?

What if it rained at night?

No. He wasn't going to let any of that happen, he would never allow that something bad happened to her.

"It won't be more than 20 minutes," he observed Tendou and he showed him one of his most playful smiles.

"I’ll cover you, Wakatoshi-kun~"

.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

Six months later.

"Y/N" Ushijima turned to look at her and smiled delicately at her "Would you like to come to practice today?"

Her face conveyed so much joy, so much emotion, so much affection. She nodded quickly and lunged down so he could hug him. Oh, oh, oh. Wakatoshi's heart began to tremble inside his chest, it was too much for him. Having her so close, her scent covering her clothes, her smile and eyes shrinking by the size of her smile. Anything that had to do with her made him fragile.

Yes, Wakatoshi had taken the steps after Y/N. But he had managed to ask her out on different occasions and finally declare his feelings for her.

The confession by the h/c-haired girl had been written in a letter with cherry blossom petals adorning her. Wakatoshi's heart was so moved by his words and by the little drawing of him she had made.

How could he not reciprocate her feelings, if he was already more than in love with her?

"Uhm... yes, I think we should walk to Shiratorizawa, " he mentioned a while later and the e/c-eyed girl separated from him and took his hand without thinking about it. Oh. He watched her and smiled again, catching his fingers with hers and began to walk.

They had become very close. Too close. L/N brought out the sweetest and most delicate of the giant Ushijima. His serious and intimidating shell was softened by the girl's displays of affection. Next to her, he became so fragile, so sensitive.

And Y/N was so sweet, so beautiful. Feeling her hand against his, damn. She was so small. L/N looked at him and kissed his cheek. Ushijima slowed to process the situation and began to blush slowly, turning his gaze away as the young woman laughed. Her laughter was so soft, so precious. The first time he heard her laugh, he was impressed, but soon the girl had told her that it was normal to articulate sounds, but that talking was impossible for her. Deep down he was grateful for the fact that he could hear her laugh. The memory was attached to his memory and he could not help but smile before looking at her again.

"It doesn't matter that you can't talk. It's the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard" Wakatoshi's words came out instantly, sincerely, transparently. The girl's eyes opened with surprise and she began to turn into a crimson red who immediately worried the third-year young man "Are you okay, Y/N? Do you feel bad? Do you have a fever?"

He was so damn clueless sometimes.

However, he hadn't introduced Y/N to the team yet, was it right if he did it today? He hadn't warned anyone and they were in front of the gym entrance.

"Y/N," he looked at her and brought her face a little closer to his "if you feel uncomfortable or is too much for yourself, just tell me. Sometimes... Tendou is very noisy." The young woman smiled at him and nodded softly, before pressing his lips against his in a very short kiss. Ushijima didn't get used to sudden displays of affection, but he loved them. He smiled and kissed the crown of his head before entering the gym against her.

The sounds of the balls hitting the ground on the finishers and the sound of the sneakers sliding down the wooden floor filled Y/N with curiosity. She was still holding her boyfriend's hand as she inspected the place with her gaze. Here, the person that trained day and night. She smiled watching Ushijima, yes, he was special.

Then, before she knew it, Wakatoshi blocked one of the balls that may have hit his girl. And Y/N blinked several times, had not noticed, she was so focused on admiring around her and Toshi. He observed Ushijima's countenance, his frown was slightly frowned upon. He looked upset. He was upset.

"Wakatoshi-kun~" And Y/N turned to where she heard the voice, he was a tall, red-haired boy with a peculiar smile. His eyes remained closed as he called Ushijima "I thought you'd never make it~”.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Everyone stopped.

Immediately, Y/N felt like all eyes were positioned on top of her. Ushijima kept watching Tendou with a frown. The boy was blinking as he looked at Y/N, he began to circle around them, looking at his uniform and also his appearance. Tendou looked at Wakatoshi and smiled.

"Oooh, Wakatoshi-kun~, you didn't tell us that today you would bring Y/N-chan" the confused young lady and looked at her boyfriend.

"I didn't plan on it."

"Uhm, Y/N-chan, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, I'm Tendou Satori" Satori reached out her hand and Y/N smiled at it. Ushijima observed how one of his hands was still intertwined with L/N's and the other was being caressed by Tendou's.

He didn't like to see that.

"Tendou" called him, he let go of Y/N's hand after several friendly squeezes "They almost hit Y/N while practicing."

"I apologize for that, Y/N-chan" the redhead leaned in apology way and then smiled at the girl "But Waka Waka was there to protect you, didn't he?” The young woman smiled and nodded. Tendou looked at her curiously "Hey, Y/N-chan, wouldn't you like to meet the rest of the team? Waka Waka looks a little... possessive"

Ushijima only cast a short look at him as he gently squeezed his partner's hand. She blinked a couple of times in confusion and then watched everyone else. He noticed an older gentleman trying not to scream as he rubbed his sien with his hands.

"I remember telling you that, if you were going to be distracted, that you were going to be for a girl..., BUT I DIDN'T MEAN TO BRING HER TO DISTRACT OTHERS!"

"I apologize" Ushijima bowed his head "This is L/N Y/N" observed all members of the club "My girlfriend".

Oh. Now this was interesting.

They tried not to corner the young woman with many questions, but Ushijima had forgotten to tell them that Y/N had a special condition and that she did not speak. At first no one understood until the girl pulled out her cell phone and started explaining that she was actually mute. That caused much more curiosity in all the team members, even the coach. Wakatoshi had managed to approach someone who did not speak being a person of few words.

How ironic love was.

After several questions, mostly how they met as Wakatoshi was very secretive and had not gone into much detail - and had not informed anyone that officially Y/N was his girlfriend - L/N sat next to the coach to watch them practice.

Ushijima was on top of his 100%.

He wanted to show you how good he was, he wanted her to be proud of being her partner. Wakatoshi was completely in love with the girl and wanted to give the young woman plenty of reasons for not leaving him. And Y/N looked at him and clapped every time he managed to score. She was delighted at how her boyfriend looked like a fish in the water while playing. She couldn't help but smile for the rest of the set, he looked so calm, so passionate, so happy.

She couldn't help it and took a picture just as he jumped to score, the sound that formed when he hit the ball was intimidating. Her smile grew more. She will draw it later.

"L/N" turned his head towards the "Ushijima has a lot of future" the coach said “He's one of the best" he looked at her "He's showing the best he's got because you're here" the girl looked at Wakatoshi and smiled "But, he gets distracted sometimes at practice" his voice got a little harsh towards the girl "And it also takes a long time to get to the club. I have been struck several times by the times he arrives late to the dorms" And Y/N looked at it surprised. Wakatoshi hadn't told him anything about this, "You may be his motivation, but at the same time you're a distraction that, unfortunately, may be taking him away from his dream."

There was no more conversation after that.

For some reason, Y/N felt a knot in his throat, she couldn't say anything, of course, of course she couldn't. She looked down at the screen of his cell phone, looking at the photo he had just taken of the boy.

His dream.

He may lose his dream.

Was she really hurting Toshi's future that much?

Then it all began to reproduce in her head. The days when Wakatoshi sought her in her academy, they sat on the bench where they met and stayed like this, smiling at each other. Or the times when he told her that he needed to go back to the club and that she would do the same. And the times when he left the club late and went to the park so he could take her home which was 15 minutes from Shiratorizawa. He was wasting valuable time for her.

Ushijima was wasting time for her.

It was her fault.

She felt the tears form in his eyes. Her jaw began to tremble. No, she couldn't cry. Wakatoshi was happy, and if Wakatoshi was happy, she should be happy. It doesn't matter that she had to step away little by little so she can encourage him to get his dream.

Practice ended an hour later and Y/N didn't know how she didn't cry when Ushijima approached her to hug her and tell her he was happy that she could watch him play.

"Very well" said the coach "But it could be better. How about two more hours?"

"I will take Y/N home and return to practice," Ushiwaka declared, the others looked at him and smiled lightly. The coach looked through the corner of the young woman's eye.

Maybe it's taking him away from his dream.

She said goodbye to everyone with a friendly smile. Ushijima hadn't stopped smiling, he was sure L/N had seen how good she was, he was sure the young lady was proud, that she was impressed. He was sure he had shown him that he was not at all fragile.

"See you later" Ushijima looked at Tendou and the others.

The young woman remembered the coach's words and looked at Ushijima, quickly wrote on her cell phone and spread it to her.

Ushijima shook his head.

"It's a little late, " he looked at her, there was some concern in his eyes. The girl's heart started to hurt "I won't let you go alone."

"I'll be fine, Toshi. It's not dark yet, I promise when I get home, I'll send you a message! :)" Wakatoshi sighed and looked at her again.

Ushijima swore for a second to see the girl's eyes begin to drown in tears, but she was quickly said to lower her gaze to pick up her things.

"Okay”.

Ushijima read the message several times. Trying to process what the girl was trying to say. He felt a pain in his chest that he had never experienced before. He began to write very slowly:

"What do you mean, why did you call me Ushijima? And Y/N we can solve this. We can do it. Yesterday, was it too much for you? Please--".

He stopped.

And Y/N had sent another message.

"I don't think it's good for me to be in your life. I'm a distraction to you."

He deleted the message he was writing.

"What do you mean?"

Ushijima's hands began to tremble as he waited on the bench. He hadn't gone to practice; He hadn't even warmed up. He’s been waiting all day for the girl, all day worried, all day thinking about the things that might have happened to him not to accompany her at night.

"I'm taking you away from your dreams, Toshi."

"I'm a distraction to you."

"Ever since we met, you've been wasting valuable time you spent with volleyball. It's all my fault. I don't want to take you away from your dream, I know how important it is to you."

"Please, Toshi. You know it's true, you know you've gotten in trouble because of me."

"I'm so sorry, Toshi."

"Goodbye."

It broke.

Like when they crashed a glass into the ground. Like when they cut the bonds that connected soulmates. As when the fragility of the cherry petals was in their hands and so delicate that, with a grotesque rub, they broke.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, the miracle boy, began crying after reading the last message sent to him by the woman he loved.

And he couldn't answer it, because it was true.

.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

It's been two months.

It was December.

And Y/N watched the snowflakes fall. She smiled very briefly as she sat on the bench where she had met Ushijima Wakatoshi, one of Japan's top 3 aces. She pulled out his drawing book and let out a sigh.

She had not managed to get to the post on ledge that she so desired. After she broke up with Ushijima, things for her went from bad to worse. She missed him so much and she could only think of him. All her drawings, it was him. Photos she had taken of him, pictures he had sent to her. Even pictures of the two of them together. Photos she found in magazines and photos she didn't know who had taken them, but each and every one of them, was in her drawing book.

She watched with some nostalgia around her. Usually Ushijima would come running, finishing warming up and then they would be seated while she gave him all her affection, even if he was bathed in sweat. Remembering it made her heart move a little with dissatisfaction from within. But this was for him, she had turned away from him so that he could improve, so that he could achieve his dream.

And yet, deep down, she felt that she had done something wrong.

Tears began to come out almost immediately, as if it were a method of personal attack against herself. When she cried, she could only think of him. In his smile, in his immense hands against his, in how he whispered "I love you," in the times it was just the two of them and the cherry petals.

She hunched over as he began to whine, covering her face. This was all her fault, if she hadn't sneezed, if she hadn't been a mess, if she hadn't loved him from the first moment she saw him, perhaps, just maybe, none of that was happening to her. It was all her fault, absolutely everything.

She couldn't recompose herself; it was all Wakatoshi. Wakatoshi had consumed his life in every aspect, and she loved that. She loved it so much that it hurt, it hurt so much.

But what could she expect? It wouldn't work anyway. There was an immense barrier to communication. She, for her part, could not speak. Ushijima knew no sign language and was a man of few words. It would never work, never.

But they would have made it work, because they loved each other so much, and she knew it.

Their sobs were so sad, so horrific. She tried to stop while covering her mouth with one of her hands, but only managed to get both parts of her body to start shaking uncontrollably.

She deserved all this, for taking all that time from Ushijima, for getting him into trouble, for being a distraction.

All that she deserved.

"Are you all right?"

Oh.

Oh, no.

It was that thick voice that had fallen in love with her. Oh, no. Not again, not again.

L/N Y/N was petrified as she looked up to meet Ushijima Wakatoshi in what she deduced was clothes to exercise in winter. Tears felt like crystals against his cheeks, silly whining still coming out of her lips.

He looked pretty bad. Ushijima could look the same as always, but his eyes, his eyes looked so tired, so sad.

"Y/N..."

She didn't know why at the time she tried to articulate his name, she tried with all his might, but only incoherent sounds came out. Tears began to increase. Everything was wrong, Toshi was looking at her in her worst condition, she was sure that Wakatoshi thought she looked pathetic in that state.

"Y/N" he called her again and approached the bench as fast as she could to sink in front of her, took off his gloves and began wiping her tears with her hands. How she missed his hands. Wakatoshi squeezed his lips into a straight line as he kept removing tears for tears "I don't want to hear you cry, please, " his voice sounded intimidating, but it seemed to break "I beg you, don't cry, no"

"A... A…To... hi"

Wakatoshi's eyes opened wide and observed her in amazement. She was trying with all her might to say his name, even if she knew it was impossible. Ushijima couldn't take it anymore and took his face in his hands so he could kiss her. It was short, but it felt so good.

"I love you so much Y/N, I haven't stopped doing it, not even for a second..." his voice began to break as he advanced. His figure began to tremble in the girl's arms. His whining increased "Forgive me, I let you go, I should have fought for you, I should have..."

Now, they were both crying.

The two held on as they cried on the same bench where they had met. On the same bench where they confessed their feelings, on the same bench where they gave their first kiss, on the same bench where Ushijima let her go.

That damn bench that held such fragile memories.

Y/N only embraced it more forcefully, afraid he'd let her go.

Ushijima took a deep breath to separate a little from her and start making movements with her hands looking her in the eye. L/N's lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I want to have you back, Y/N" He learned sign language. Y/N at that point was already a disaster in tears. Had he learned for her, since when was he learning? She didn't close his eyes as the boy kept going, without hesitation of his movements "I don't care what the reason was, I'm going to fight to get you back and I'll never, ever ever let me make you cry. I just want to hear your laughter, I just want to see your smile and if you ever cry, I want it to be because you fulfilled your dream" Y/N wiped away her tears while covering her mouth, trying to suppress her sobs "You are my dream, Y/N. Don't take away my dream, I beg you."

L/N shook her head and removed her hand from her mouth. He gave her the most beautiful smile he could give her.

"I love you so much, my love"

　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨) (¸.·´ (¸.·’* ⛧

Three years later

"Y/N-chan~" Satori's voice began to distract her in so many ways, changing from one subject to another so quickly that he didn’t let her think. She sighed with a smile; he would never change.

Y/N and Ushijima were still together. Today, she was walking with Satori on the same path that led to the place where she had met the love of her life. Tendou distracted her by telling her to look at the non-existent bird attacking a non-existent cat. The reason they were walking around was simple, Ushijima had a little week's vacation and asked her to meet there.

"Y/N-chan~" Satori stopped in front of her and smiled "You know? Wakatoshi-kun has become very happy by your side, now he smiles a lot."

She smiled in response mode before Tendou went on.

"That's why Wakatoshi-kun decided to do this~ " he quickly plugged her eyes and helped her walk "Trust me, Y/N-chan"

She felt euphoria coming out for every pore of his body, what was going on?

Suddenly, they stopped and Tendou stopped covering his eyes.

Ushijima was using a sack for some reason and was sitting on the same bench where their story began, in his hands there was a small box and, on his face, rested a beautiful smile. Upon hearing them he looked up and Y/N's eyes filled with tears without me telling him anything.

Tendou sided up as he smiled at his friend. Ara, ara~

"Y/N" his voice no longer sounded hard at all, he sounded sweet, affectionate. The e/c-eyed girl immediately observed the article in her hands, her heart began to beat with a lot of force "I met you right here, it was exactly about 4 years ago. I don't regret being distracted by these same flowers that taught me that fragility could be so beautiful" Ushijima got up and approached her. He removed a petal that covered her face and continued to smile "Because thanks to them, I met the love of my life, the person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

His heart turned when Ushijima swelled with one knee against the floor and the other flexed in front of the girl. He opened the little box.

A ring.

"Marry me, Y/N" that was not a question, it was almost like an order, and she wasn't going to deny it. She nodded without hesitation and knelt down, hugged him with all his might as he began to cry with joy. Her face was hidden in the hollow of Ushijima's neck, he smelled so manly that she felt weak.

"DID YOU RECORD IT, SEMI SEMI?!"

"OF COURSE I RECORDED IT, TENDOU, SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

"Ushijima-san" Y/N turned his face to meet Goshiki crying "and Y/N-san... congratulations."

They both smiled full of sweetness. Along with her, Ushijima had become too fragile, but he loved to be fragile if it meant being with her.

And it was perfect to be like this, as long as he was with her.

[writing-in-april]

Russian Roulette

Spencer Reid x Female Unsub Reader

Thanks to my beta readers! @definitelynotkatesblog and @clean-bands-dirty-stories

WARNINGS: NSFW, SMUT, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING

Includes: Suicide, Attempted Suicide, Toxic Relationship, Gun kink, Angsty smut -There is no specific dominant person in the smut-

A/N: Please do not read if you are easily triggered or under the age of 18. This was really difficult to write but I am really happy the way it came out! I have a playlist I made for writing this if anyone is wanting it just ask! My requests are open for basically any character you can think of, I want to branch out and write lots of characters!

Word count: 3.2k

Masterlist

——

The warehouse that I had found myself masking my location in was in no doubt the most ghastly place I had chosen yet. I wasn’t sure what drew me to the abandoned depository, maybe I had subtly acknowledged to myself that I was at the end of my rope-I knew I couldn’t run forever. The smoke colored walls matched the ashes dropping from the cigarette I had lit to alleviate my anxiety. The cat and mouse game I had been playing with the team that was on my trail was coming to an end. They had an extra vendetta set out against me since I cruelly betrayed the trust built between us. Polluted air swirled around me as I dug my nose in a book, trying to distract myself from my impending doom.

A noise drew my thoughts away from Catcher in the Rye that I had been reading while sat on a shitty mattress, practically the only furniture in this hole in the wall. My manicured nails snuffed out the cigarette into the bed and discarded the paperback, knowing that this was the start of the end. The double doors swung open as the recognizable silhouette Dr. Reid, his shadow was tall and lanky, with noticeable wild curls that looked as if he had rolled out of bed. He finally graced my eyes with the details of his figure, every step he took had lingering hesitation. It had been weeks since I had last seen him, he looked considerably more tired since he had last graced me with his presence, purple dark rings sat under his eyes, his hair even more disheveled then normal, and his clothes lacked the crisp ironing that he usually sported. I hated that I was the one that had caused his disheveled state, I had found a kindred spirit in Dr. Reid. It seemed like we were made for one another, our interests were exactly aligned, the only major thing that separated us was my penchant for murdering people. He was the first person I had felt connected to since my mother and it pained me to see that my betrayal had obviously weighed heavy on his mind.

“I see you finally found me.” I stated nonchalantly as I stood up, he was standing as far away as he could, from my observation it was evident he was disgusted with me but he was still drawn to me like a moth to a flame. He nodded solemnly, the words that he wanted to speak seemed caught in his throat, so instead his eyes bored into my soul. We stood in contemplation just staring at each other, we were only a few feet away from each other but it felt as if we were worlds apart.

“Was it ever real?” He finally spoke up in a shaky voice, his lip quivering in either anger or sadness. “Did you feel what I felt?”

“I hadn’t been real to anyone in a long time until I met you.” I spoke honestly, though I wasn’t sure if he believed me.

I felt the memory of our first meeting flash before my eyes, a murderer had crashed into my hometown, killing important people with checkered pasts. Politicians, lawyers, and police officers- no one was safe. My job as a therapist put me straight into the cesspit of what I viewed as the worst of humanity, slimy high ranking fixtures of the community. I often felt my skin crawling as sick human beings put on a facade of perfection hiding their nefarious deeds behind closed doors, so I began taking care of them by slitting their throats in the dead of night.

When the BAU rolled into our city they immediately put everyone connected with the victims into protective custody. There wasn’t an immediately obvious motive so the team had collected anyone with an important role putting each person with a specific team member. I had been put with the genius of the team Dr. Reid. The stay in the safe house with him made our relationship blossom, we shared interests, hobbies, and even our backstories (I had edited mine a bit so they wouldn’t catch on). Usually I viewed the world as black and white good or evil and until I met Dr. Reid I hadn’t felt grey before just a dark cesspool of no emotion.

I had never even spoken his first name, I had told him that- “Someone who earned 3 PHDs should have their achievements recognized all the time.” I still couldn’t deny these strange feelings that welled up inside of me, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself.

When I had been spotted by the doctor running from the scene of a crime I could practically hear his heart break and to be honest mine did too. I never wanted him to see this side of me that I kept buried, I had wanted to stop for a while even after that first kill but what had first started out as vigilantism turned into a compulsion to kill.

His screams broke me out of my reminiscing my eyes snapped up to see the doctor holding his gun, pointing it straight at my heart.

“WHY?! Why you?” He broke out of his previous calm facade, letting me in on the anger I had stirred underneath.

“You know the profile Doctor you tell me” I asked, though no answer was given.

The gun was shaking in his hands, his fury boiling over, steam was practically coming out of his ears.

“Pull the trigger Dr. Reid. It’s what we’ve both been waiting for, isn’t it? Let’s skip the reminiscing. So go on. Pull the trigger.” His grip faltered, he wasn’t sure where to go from here, should he take you in? Or completely screw regulation and take out his unbridled rage on the woman who had cruelly stolen his heart by shooting her.

The weapon was lowered, his hands still shook in fury as he put it back snugly in its place. I already knew he had called his team, no matter what he felt for me before there was no way he would risk his career to let me go. Even though I had accepted the cards that had been dealt I wasn’t going to let them take me alive. Tentatively I stepped forward, wanting to gain a semblance of closeness between us before I sacrificed myself, his body was rigid in its place as our chests touched.

I pulled the gun from his his side holster, it was an odd gun for an FBI agent to carry, a revolver to be exact. My fingers gripped the curved cedar handle, dragging it across Dr. Reid’s clothed collarbones, his arms were stiff at his sides unmoving. He was unsure of my intentions with the weapon. He knew logically that I was cornered in this abandoned warehouse with no escape, and obviously I couldn’t do much with a single revolver, that’s why he had only put one round in, reserved only for my heart if the trigger was needed to be pulled. Then I softly, with uncharacteristic tenderness, grabbed the good doctor’s hand with my free hand to guide his large palms to envelope my hand over the gun. He seemed flustered, which was odd to me, his resolve of hatred had never weakened around me until now. Our hands were clasping the gun in unison, the clammy palms of Dr. Reid cradled my own as I reached over and spun the chamber to land on a random spot.

I prided myself on the ability to read people but I couldn’t ascertain the reason behind the evident hesitation in his eyes as I encouraged him to carefully set the revolver snug against my jaw. Was it possible he had developed a care for me or did this just boil down to fear of having an unsub handle his gun. His breathe was mixed with mine, I held my pattern evenly while his had become ragged, strong enough to whisp my hair away from my face. With a flick I unlocked the safety and a genuine smile graced my face, if these were my final moment I was glad I got to spend it with Dr. Reid, he brought me a strange sense of comfort that I had never known before. His whole body was shaking as my forefinger moved to the trigger- he almost looked as if he was going to cry. A resounding click echoed off the dull gray walls of my hiding place, I had momentarily escaped my fate.

Dr. Reid suddenly smashed his lips onto mine breaking me out of the brief relief. My body had grown rigid against his movements, I wasn’t used to emotional connections with anyone and they certainly were never romantic. Just the delicate touch of his hand on my hip was more care then I had ever been shone before.

My cold exterior that I had carefully constructed was now in ruins because of Doctor reid. He was the only one who truly saw who I was, past my trauma and the trauma I caused. I melted into his forceful kiss, the unspoken tension that we had created finally was boiling over. It was full of tongue and teeth, our noses bumping as we poured our feelings into the kiss, speaking without ever making a sound. My back collided with the nearest wall, dust flying off to coat our bodies, his knee parted my legs and rested between my thighs. His spare hand left my hip to cradle my cheek practically engulfing my face with his large palm, raking the soft pads of his fingertips across my skin.

The silver barrel still rested under my chin being held precariously by our joined grip, Dr. Reid’s hand left my cheek, snaking its way down to the waistband of my pants. The tips of his fingers danced at the edge building anticipation in my veins.

He suddenly pulled the gun out from under my chin and set it under his own, my eyes widened in confusion my desire vanishing by the second. I tried to pull our unified hold away from his jawline but unfortunately he was stronger then me.

“I don’t know if I can live without you” he choked out, he had used his profiling skills deducing that I was going to sacrifice myself. He spun the wheel setting the bullet in another indiscriminate position, resetting the stakes all over again.

“It’ll be ok.” I begged desperately trying to talk him away from the ledge, just because I had wasted my life didn’t mean he had to as well. I brought my available appendage and covered the outside of his hand continuing my efforts to pull the gun away from his grasp. He shook his head, tears were freely falling from the both of us, mixing together to form a salty pool. His fingers slipping underneath my encased hand finding the trigger with ease, he pulled it quickly a sickening click resounded through the stale atmosphere. Once I was satisfied that he had survived air quickly left my body releasing the breath that I had held tightly in my lungs.

Mimicking his reaction from earlier I submerged us into another kiss, this one was tinged with my anger from his reckless move. I voiced my displeasure surrounding his actions by biting into his lip, bruising the plush tender skin. A groan escaped from him, the salacious kiss was now tainted with blood from his lips mixing together in gory harmony.

Undulating my hips onto the thigh that still sat between my legs, desire snuck itself back inside of me, rebuilding what had been banished. I suddenly had the urge to remove every cloth barrier that remained between us, I needed him now. Dr. Reid clearly shared the sentiment as he started pulling on the clothing covering my body. I did my best to shuck off his plum colored blazer with my available phalanges while he attempted to snap open the front of my pants. Our hands still were glued the wooden hilt of the gun that was rooted in its spot at the edge of the doctor’s jaw. The buttons of his dress shirt popped around us as my painted nails dug into the cotton, tearing the offensive fabric from his body. With frantic inelegant movement our outer clothing was ripped off our forms, the only barrier that lingered was our undergarments. His nimble fingertips wound around to the clasp of my bra tugging forcefully the clasp broke, freeing me from its confinement.

The lace was discarded in hast revealing my breasts to him he surged forward capturing my nipple in his mouth as my hips ground into his thigh. Circling my bud he glanced upwards, taking in the sight of my flushed cheeks, hair slicked with sweat, and the gun that I had swiftly moved to my temple removing it from his mandible. Excitement prickled in my core as he meandered down to where I craved him the most, he fisted the mesh- the last remaining remnant of clothing covering my body. A tearing noise filled the space, reverberating around us as the mesh separating us was torn away from me, revealing my full form.

His deft fingers gathered the building excitement between my folds, then he brought them to make contact with my clit. He rubbed slow harsh figure 8s against my pearl, I could feel myself getting wetter- which I didn’t think was possible. The ministrations continued for a while, but I was antsy to get his fingers inside of me. A beg almost fell from my mouth when all of a sudden with no warning his fingers plunged into my heat making my body convulse around him. He curled them expertly, nudging them perfectly at my g spot making the pit in my stomach grow and spread throughout my entire body.

Our hold had started to loosen on the gun so I clutched around the revolver tighter tugging our entangled fingers to rest the metal shaft perfectly against my temple. Upping the stakes further I rapidly clicked the trigger, the gun still had not administered its bullet into my brain, making the obscene act even better then before. His eyes held fear for a moment but couldn’t help his reaction to the clicks, a deep seated groan from deep in his chest. The sensations flowing through my body almost became too much to bear as he moved his thumb to my clit. My back arched against the wall as he sunk the blunt edges of his teeth into my collarbone while flicking against my clit with his thumb, sending me closer to bliss. He must have discerned that I was close to the edge and pulled his fingers away, his knuckles bumping against my g spot one last time which pulled a pathetic whimper from my throat while screwing my eyes shut.

I heard the tell tale sign of a belt buckle clinking causing my eyes to snap open, his full body was finally on display for me. My eyes drank in the sight before me, the doctor was just as I had imagined in my dreams, not too thick but long enough that I thought it might not fit. I reached forward to pump his length spitting into my palm as I jerked him off.

“Jump.” He whispered desperately into the shell of my ear, with careful precision my legs wrapped around his naked torso as I locked him in. The gun was the only barrier that remained between us as he lined himself up to my entrance and thrusted in one swift motion, breaching my walls for the first time.

“Fuck.” The soft expletive fell from his rose hued lips on the column of my throat making my toes curl.

His hips snapped into mine starting a pace with deliberate deep thrusts, my free arm wrapped around his neck trying to pull him in as close as possible. My fingers then wound through his messy curls yanking back so I could pepper kisses along the nape of his neck earning a sharp grunt from Dr. Reid as he picked up the pace. I bit the inside of my cheek in concern as he moved the gun to be placed under his jaw again. Tears started to fall again from my eyes as I silently pleaded for him not to pull the trigger, he ignored my pleas and reset the bullet to a random position once more. His rhythm faltered as the gun clicked for the fifth time, I knew we were testing fate too much at this point and that our luck was running out.

He kept the gun in its position while he picked up his momentum resuming his previous pace. My blood red nails dug into any part of him that I could grab onto leaving red streaks down his chest, back, and biceps as he reached parts of me that I didn’t even think existed. Our eyes locked together as his cock brushed against my g spot causing me to clench around him, we both moaned at the sensation hurtling us both closer to release.

I reached my hand down to rub harshly on my clit as I felt my climax coming just around the corner, my eyes rolling back in response to the added titillation. I then dragged our encapsulated hands away from Spencer pulling the barrel inside my mouth, his fingers flexed around mine anxiously as he soft whispers into my ear attempting to save me from myself. We both had somehow sensed that it was the end, I thought it was very fitting to end my life in the arms of the only person in the world I could find myself caring about. He didn’t stop his thrusts but they were now at a slow languid pace trying to savor every last moment he had with me.

“Spencer” I moaned in bittersweet symphony as I let myself kiss his bruised lips for the last time, our tears were falling giving our kiss a salty taste. A feeling of bliss suddenly overtook my body as I came in glorious crescendo. I rode out my high before I accepted my fate, my blood pounding in my ears for the final time. The wall was painted with blood as I pulled the trigger, ending my life with a bang.

*****

The shot rang in Spencer’s ears, it took him a minute to realize what had happened and that the object of his desire was gone. He was still holding the gun as the body of his unattainable love slumped onto him in death, his face speckled with scarlet. Finally the offending object slipped through his fingers clattering on the floor as he cradled her body.

His sobs echoed the empty rooms bouncing off the the walls mixing with the police sirens in the distance.

“He loved and he loved and he lost her, and it hurts like hell”-Fleurie

Tag list for Russian Roulette:

@zhuzhubii​ 

[mintly]

Thank you so much for tagging me @princip1914! These questions were looking really fun to respond to!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? Eleven!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 39,406! (It's-not-much-but-it's-honest-work.jpeg)

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? I've written for 3 fandoms on AO3: Good Omens, Steven Universe and Sakana. I have a handful of half finished fics for other fandoms that never made it so far, alas.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Not Your Nan's Demon Summoning (Good Omens, G, 655) Crowley was sulking. He and Aziraphale could be having a cuddle by the telly with truffles from that little shop they liked in Brighton, but no. Instead of a cozy night in, all he had was an increasingly lukewarm mug of coffee and the indignity of being trapped inside what appeared to be a grandmother’s sitting room.

For Fear of Burning (Good Omens, E, 1k) After the thermos was delivered, the tension of a hundred years of fear and pain crackled between them like fireworks. Then it snapped, popping and sizzling, catching flame in a burst of desire. They hadn’t even made it under the sheets this time.

Before We Turn to Dust (Steven Universe, T, 6.1k) Their days were dirt roads and endless blue sky. It would be freedom, except it wasn't. Sapphire is a quiet country storefront and Ruby dreams.

Sentiments of Great and Indefinite Scale (Good Omens, T, 8.3k, WIP) Crowley likes Aziraphale. He really, really likes him. It's terrible. He can't help it if his one friend is an angel, but also a bastard, and that he really wants to hold his hand and run his fingers the feather-soft curls of his hair and kiss him until he's breathless. It's not his fault that Aziraphale is entirely irresistible. Crowley finds any excuse to pull him closer, and Aziraphale, most of the time, lets him. Isn't friendship amazing? - Six thousand years of dates and Crowley misses the memo.

Shiver at Your Touch (Good Omens, E, 3.9k) It was a new millennium, and the London Eye had recently opened to the public. Aziraphale had been hinting for ages that Crowley might take him. "Crowley, you must take us to the opening," Aziraphale said.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes! Immediately omg. As soon as I see a comment, I usually respond to it! I just really appreciate each and every one; it's honestly overwhelming to me sometimes that people read my work and maybe even enjoy it enough to leave me a kind word. Also if I do it immediately I won't forget to respond, which I might otherwise whoops.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Oooh, I hope the end of Rupture and Rapture hits the hardest, but For Fear of Burning gives it a run for its money. I love an angsty, longing oneshot!

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? Thankfully not hate, not really!

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? I only started writing smut with my Good Omens fic, and I suppose any sort? I'm still not particularly assured in my smut writing abilities, but I've found it's fun to incorporate that sort of intimacy and vulnerability into a story! It can be so powerful, with happiness or longing or sadness, etc.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh gosh, not that I know of!

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? I've been asked before, but I never saw the final result. So maybe!!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet! @caffeinechic and I have something on the backburner though!! ONE DAY.

13. What’s your all time favourite ship? ffsjdifhsudf if I'm honest, it's my favorite in whatever fandom I'm in at the moment, but I have such a fondness for all my old ships too. I really do love Aziraphale/Crowley though, ever since I first read the book.

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? I only have one WIP (Sentiments) and I will finish it!!! I promise!!! I am making progress, I swear.

15. What are your writing strengths? I like to think that I'm good at imagery; I spend a lot of time trying to pick the proper words to convey a certain vibe, especially verbs! I also work a lot on rhythm and sentence variation so that certain lines Hit Different u know, so I hope that comes through! I just love working on the fine detail of each sentence omg.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? SLOW. I'm so slow. I find it really hard to finish something after about the 2/3 mark and that last third is a slog oftentimes. It's something I'm working on as I try to finish fics and shrink my WIP folder.

But on a technical level, I really want to work on improving story structure so that I feel more confident and able to write longer works! I'm a short story author at my core, but I'd love to write something novel-length one day.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? I think that it's important to keep your audience in mind and the purpose for including it! Using another language for a brief phrase or exchange can do a lot to establish a character or setting, but I also think the meaning should be easily gleaned or immediately translated within the context of the story. There're exceptions of course, but that's just how I'd do it (and plan to)!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? Ooooh my gosh. Pokemon Special/Pokemon Adventures, which is the Pokemon manga! You can no longer find these on fanfiction.net, which is for the best. I was very proud of them back then though, and I love that it set me onto writing as a hobby!!

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? This is such a difficult question omg. At the moment I'm still really proud of Rapture and Rupture, but I'm also still very fond of the depth I managed to add in my first Good Omens fic, When We Fall In.

Phew! Okay, I think I'll tag @fremulon and @forineffablereasons, if either of you want to play! I'd also be happy to hear from anyone else! I really do love to hear authors talk about their work!! TELL ME YOUR PASSIONS I WILL LISTEN