#sorry but this scratches that ‘enemies to lovers’ part of my brain

[jayswingart]

side note but I’ve been seeing a lot of shifty and lifty stuff lately and I’m LIVING for it. Anyways, a splendid x lifty :3

[dr3amlab]

2. wicked games, dm.

SUMMARY — Y/N Gorgon and Draco Malfoy have a long history of mutual hatred. You see, the two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since their 1st year at Hogwarts, to the dismay of their close friends and supervisors. However, after a prank left Y/N completely out of her mind, she decides that she'll pull her cruelest prank yet on Draco by pretending to be his secret admirer.

PAIRING — Draco Malfoy x reader

GENRE — series, enemies to lovers, rival, comedy (?)

WORD COUNT — 2045 words.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I'm not too proud of this chapter not gonna lie :(( I hope that it’s good enough, and any criticism is welcome as long as its not harsh lmaooo

PARTS. 1 2 3 4 5 6 finale

TAGLIST — @hopefulfuturenovelauthor​ @charlenasaxen​ @johnmurphys-sass​  @alittlebitofinsanitea​

couldn’t tag  @louieblue2 and @born2222die

II. VILLAIN ORIGIN STORY 

We all have memories we'll never forget. Those memories bear an impact on us, an impact so big that they are engraved in the back of our brains forever. For instance, you remember the first time you ate a chocolate frog, the first time you watched the snow fall from your bedroom’s window and you'll never forget your first encounter with Draco Malfoy. In opposition to the first memories, the latter was not a pleasant recollection.

It was on your first ever day at Hogwarts and you remember smiling from ear to ear as you entered the mesmerizing facility. The building was, and still is, magnificent beyond words could ever describe. You were taking it all in, staring at every object or construction you could as if they might disappear the moment you'd tear your eyes from them: the grand doors, the walls, the ceiling— oh, how the ceiling was beautiful; it was bewitched to seem as if it was a starry night. Even though you'd had the opportunity to stargaze thousands of times in your life, you were mesmerized because this was a sight you never had the chance to see. "It’s so pretty y/n!" your childhood friend, Athena, exclaimed equally as impressed as you. "I know right!" you beamed as you continued to watch the false stars twinkle, "it’s impre—" Before you were able to end your sentence, you had collided with another student, making you both fall on the ground. "Watch it you idiot." you stared up to meet a pair of grey eyes. "I’m sorry, I was just— " You were cut off."Staring at the ceiling? Is it the first time you ever saw a ceiling?"The boy spat with a condescending tone, making you scowl at his unnecessary spitefulness. He got up and readjusted his robes while bearing an angry expression on his face. Following his motions, you also stood up and started to dust off your clothes. "Merlin, I think you made me scratch my brand-new shoes." He scowled while staring at his shoes for a few seconds. Then he looked back at you, ready to reprimand you as if he was your teacher or your father. "Do you know how mu—"You cut him off, "Merlin, you are so shallow!" You frowned. "I didn’t do it on purpose, and I apologized," you emphasized on the last word. "So can we please put this behind us," you smiled, trying to suppress your anger. Noticing that he was about to open his mouth to fight back, Athena spoke quickly to stop the nonsense that was probably going to come out of his lips. "Come on y/n, let’s not get in trouble on our first day." She grabbed your arm making you turn around to face her "besides he’s overreacting," she said softly. "He’s an immature boy." You nodded at your best friend’s words: She’s right, you should not give a bad impression to the teachers before you even got sorted into your house. "Yeah you’re right, he’s just a little prick." You smiled smugly. "How dare you?!" the irritating person spoke again and to be honest, you almost forgot about his presence. You thought that he’d be gone by now to follow the rest of the first-year students to the dining hall but, to your dismay, he didn’t do you this favor. "Have you got no shame to say that I’m a prick right in front of my face?" He scoffed. "I can’t believe I have to deal with such peasants on my first day." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Peasants?" Just like that, a frown made back its way to your face. "Are you out of your mind for saying stuff like this?" He smirked, clearly satisfied that he got to you easily. "Why? Are you saying that you’re not a peasant?"you clenched your jaw."Because you sure do look like one!" You looked at him in disbelief before turning your head to the right to speak to Athena. "How can a twelve-year-old have this much arrogance in their body?" You then turned your head back to him and narrowed your eyes, "look," you spoke menacingly, "You should apologize for what you just said because you really don’t want to get on my bad side," you continued. "Get on your bad side?" He laughed, "please, do you even know who I am? Do you know who my father is?"He spoke as if you were supposed to shiver timbers at the mention of his father. "I don’t care who your father is." You crossed your arms, "as a matter of fact, you can tell your daddy," you took a step closer to him, "to shove whatever empty threat he thinks is going to scare me up his bum!"The blond boy became as red as a tomato and if steam could come out of his ears, you would have been able to see lots of it, like a chimney on a cold winter day."You fucking mud-blood,"he spoke through his teeth, "you just dug your own grave" you watched him intentively, waiting for his next words. "You’re not ready for what’s coming for you," he continued. "Mom, I’m scared!" You ducked your head and brought your crossed arms to your shoulders to pretend like you were shielding yourself from danger. You and athena laughed heartily at your actions while the blond boy was looking at the both of you with a discontent look on his face. After you had calmed down from laughing, you switched back to crossing your arms, but this time, you were staring at him challengingly. « Bring it on» you smirked. You were in for a hell of a ride. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ And so, you and Draco started to get back at each other to make each other’s life as bad as possible. There wasn’t a day during the school year when one of you wasn’t yelling profanities at the other. Hogwarts had not known a single peaceful day since the two of you first stepped foot in its castle. At first, the pranks were innocent, to say the least: They ranged from you stealing a school book to Draco hiding a tarantula in your bedsheets. Plus, the fact that you both were sorted in the same house made it easier to access each other’s dorms and thus made you even more creative with the pranks like replacing shampoo with green hair dye for example (Draco remembers this one all too well.) There was an unspoken rule between you and Draco: Each time a prank is pulled, the counterattack has to be crueler. There were clearly no limits to the extent to which you guys would go to make sure the other's day is ruined. Currently, you were hiding behind a wall that led to the hallway where Draco was located. You were prying on Draco and his clique who were currently having a boring conversation. You looked at the pink envelope you held in your hand knowing damn well that it was going to make their day a tad exciting. The thing is, you didn’t know how to give it to him without revealing your identity. You sighed out of frustration: You could’ve put it on his bed as you could access his dormitory easily or even put it on the table of the Slytherin common room but then, it’ll be too obvious that the letter was from you. Your mind was hurting from thinking of possible ways to give Draco the letter without potentially being framed as its writer. Suddenly, a boy that looked like he could be a first-year had the misfortune to cross your path. You smiled in victory as you waited for him to come closer to you so you could speak to him without being heard. "Hey, you!" you whispered as loud as you could to the first-year Hufflepuff that was coming your way. The young boy looked scared and pointed to himself, making sure that you actually wanted to catch his attention. "Yes, you!" He gulped not knowing what you could want from him. "Come quick, I’m not gonna bite you!" He walked towards you hurriedly. You handed him the pink envelope containing the love letter, "give this to Draco Malfoy" You pointed to the platinum-haired boy and his eyes widened at the sight of the boy, "to M-malfoy?" Of course, no first-year would ever want to be in a 100-meters radius of Draco unless they wanted to be humiliated in the worst way possible. "Just give it to him!" You said annoyed. You didn’t quite understand why the entire school was scared shitless of Malfoy, he’s just all bark and no bite. "Look, don’t worry," you reassured him, "if he says anything to you I’ll step in," you smiled. Though, you knew that he was not going to do anything because the letter will distract him. "Now go and don’t tell him who gave it to you," you warned "under any circumstances," you added, "and when you’re done come back to me," he gulped not looking too sure about running this errand for you but, then, he nodded before turning on his heels and walking towards Draco. "This is about to get interesting," you thought as you watched the boy’s figure walk towards Malfoy. Your breath itched when the first-year arrived next to Draco and you watched the scene unfold. "Well, well, well," Draco smirked, "what gave you the courage to come this close to me?' The boy looked stressed, fearing what will happen in the next few minutes. "S-someone asked me to give this to you," he presented to him the pink envelope with both of his hands while shutting his eyes closed scared of Draco’s next move "what’s this?" The blond boy said curiously while snatching the letter from the boy’s hands. He opened the letter hurriedly wanting to know what was in the envelope contained. Then, the moment you were waiting for the most came: He took out the piece of paper and started to read. You felt nervous, to say the least, and you hoped that your prank would work. You continued to watch Draco as his eyes were fixated on the words written before him. And then, to your pleasure, the ghost of a smile appeared on Malfoy's lips. "He smiled," you grinned. It was a small smile, almost unnoticeable, yes but he still smiled. Draco must’ve felt the grin that wanted to display on his lips badly and so, he bit his bottom lip to suppress it as much as he could. Malfoy cleared his throat, "You can go now," he said to the first year who nodded eagerly to be out of Draco’s sight as fast as he could. "Before, you go," Draco said making the Hufflepuff boy stop in his tracks, "who gave you this letter?" you could feel the first-year panic, "I-i’m afraid that I can’t tell you." Malfoy looked at him attentively before speaking up again, "Merlin, just go what are you still doing here!" This time, the younger boy ran away from Draco to meet you behind the wall you were hiding behind. You watched as the boy came back to meet you "Was I dreaming or did I see a smile on his lips?" You asked the boy, "I-I think I saw him smile too" you clasped your hands happily while looking at the ceiling, "thank you merlin," you said with a huge smile on your face. The boy looked at you curiously, "what was in the letter?" You tore your eyes from the ceiling to look back at him, "That is none of business," you said, "However, I have a feeling that you’ll be my partner in crime," you smiled. "So, what’s your name?" the boy spoke up, "My name is Sasha." You put a hand on his shoulder, « Sasha, I have a feeling that you and I will get along very well,» you said before turning around to leave the hallway. "Malfoy, you are so dumb," you chuckled as you skipped to your next class happily. Sasha looked very confused as he watched your strange demeanor. "What did I get myself into?" He said tiredly.

[teklarn]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭 - 𝓴. 𝓫𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

character(s): katuski bakugou x gn!reader 

a/n : y’all this was gonna be for kirishima bc i love possessive kiri but like it works so well with bakugou. first part will be from third pov, following parts will be from second pov (reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3)

summary: bakugou x gn!reader. they have feelings for one another but have no idea how to express them, however y/n has someone pining for their attention. 

genre: uhh idk a lil bit teeny-weeny dash of angst i guess 

warnings: mild cursing, possessive bakugou, mutual pining, jealousy, aged-up to third year, possessive y/n, love triangle (square?), implied manga spoilers but not directly stated, tiny bitta tokage slander (sorry lol), slow burn romance (like SLOWWW SLOW BURN), lowkey enemies to lovers, like a lotta tension between bakugou and y/n 

word count: 3k

UNEDITED w/ minimal or no typos. i shoved it into grammarly’s ass and prayed for the best okay 

here’s pt 2 loves <3

- - - 

y/n was used to picking and their skin, irritated at the girls fawning over bakugou. they were always on the sidelines, watching from afar, jealousy warping their heart. could these stupid girls not see that bakugou didn’t even care for their attention? 

this time it was setsuna tokage who was begging for his eyes on her. y/n assumed it started in their first year when they’d been put against one another when the classes still had a clashing rivalry. (they still did, much more tame now, however.) 

she leaned forwards, tugging on his short sleeve. bakugou’s uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder. he’d lost a lot of his angry demeanor from when he was younger, however it was easy to tell when he was pissed. it was inevitable he wasn’t going to lose his temper entirely. 

it was easy to ignore the girls—most of the time, at least. what was ticking y/n off the most was the fact that bakugou didn’t seem pissed at all. his face was neutral, almost like the perfect mirror of todoroki on a daily basis. his eyes were not fired up in his usual ‘get the hell off of me’ manner. he was relaxed. 

it didn’t seem like he reciprocated tokage’s feelings, however he wasn’t doing anything to get her off him and it was pissing y/n off to no end. 

her sensuous lips were pushed into a slight pucker as she spoke, arching her back in a manner that made it appear much more provocative than she probably intended. 

bakugou stood there, eyes flicking from her grasp on his sleeve and back up to her eyes. he didn’t say anything, didn’t move, only kept looking her up and down. not in a romantic way, of course. right? 

y/n scoffed at themselves. they swallowed the lump in their throat, shoving down the pinging envy in their chest with it. why wasn’t he reacting? 

heat rushed to y/n’s cheeks. why do i care? 

tokage was nearing his face. she didn’t have any intent to press her lips to his, which y/n was more than glad for. 

y/n had come to the conclusion they had feelings for the explosive boy weeks ago. perhaps they always had, but now that they were fully conscious of them... gosh, it was frustrating. 

“you’re staring again.” 

y/n turned to see kirishima, the only other person who knew about their feelings for bakugou. he’d lost the twinkle in his eyes after first year. he’d picked up a dominating sneer and a withering glare reserved for anyone who desired to cross his friends. everyone at UA had after what went down. it was a shock most of them survived anything. 

“so?” y/n snapped, shoving their hands away and kicking a pebble before them. kirishima and y/n continued their walk through the courtyard. 

“so it makes you look creepy.” 

“no, it doesn’t. he didn’t even notice me.” 

kirishima snapped his fingers. “partially my point here. that’s bakugou katsuki, you really think he’s going to notice you?” 

“excuse me?” 

kirishima pursed his lips, twiddling his thumbs. “i didn’t mean it like that, y/n. it’s just...well, he has so much to work for.” 

y/n raised a brow, questioning his nervous antics. 

he continued. “bakugou works hard. probably the hardest worker in UA aside from midoriya. and it’s bakugou. he doesn’t really see a point in relationships. you know that.” 

“it’s not like i’m looking for anything with him, though. gosh, kirishima, you’re acting like this is some school girl crush.” 

he tilted his head, giving y/n a look that screamed, are you really sure it’s not though? 

y/n huffed out a breath, crossing their arms. they’d already vomited up their feelings, why all of a sudden call it a crush? sure, it was a tiny crush that was no larger than the brain of a dinosaur. 

“i can swear that it isn’t, kirishima. you’re looking too deep into things,” y/n defended once again. 

the red-head held his hands up in surrender, sucking his lips in to avoid another snarky comment slipping out. 

the two looked up at the towering building that had been home to them for the past three years: Heights Alliance. 

during their second year, the teachers had settled with having the dorms set up in a way that allowed the students’ rooms to be set up in a gender-neutral fashion. they’d been able to select new dorms beside whomever they wished. rooming next to kirishima was a blast, but the only person bakugou wanted to room next to was him. 

mina had moved in next to you, and kaminari to her right, and sero right across from y/n. 

y/n had no issue being squished between a group notorious for their goofiness and ability to never take anything seriously, however (especially on weekends) they were exceptionally loud to the point they were sure China could hear the blaring music. 

friday was finally going to be over in a few hours. y/n felt a giddiness well up inside them, anticipating the weekend. it’d been a rough few days, for everyone, not just them. 

class 1A had been bombarded with assignments and pop quizzes. y/n was lucky they finished it all in class. some of the homework was finished when they’d sacrificed their precious free time to get it done, but in the end, it was worth it all. 

y/n let their bag sag down their arms as they entered Heights Alliance. 

- 

bakugou had just been asked out on a date. for the third time. first time, he’d denied. second time, he had to shove tokage off him. third time, he’d calmly accepted her offer, and she’d skipped away with more than a smile. 

she’d squeezed his bicep, gave him a wink and an unnecessary peck on the cheek that bakugou had wiped off the moment she turned her back. he was now in his bathroom and, despite her not wearing any lipstick, he was scrubbing his cheek raw so that the skin was a blotchy red. 

the date was tonight, and he found himself wanting to go, and questioning why he accepted in the first place. 

bakugou forgot about tokage the second he won that match his first year and tossed her in the cage. he only noticed her when she and her group of friends giggled and passed by. (it was mostly her chortling, but whatever.) 

he continued rubbing his cheek aggressively with a scratchy towel. he was repulsed by how he had stood there without bothering to snap at her to leave him alone for the third time. 

instead, bakugou’s mind had buffered, and if he was in a video game, he had surely glitched. he should probably just tell tokage he didn’t want to go anymore. in fact, he never wanted to go in the first place and wants to jump out his window and escape. 

it was almost comedic. the thought of him going out on a date? goodness, he wanted to throw up. 

as he continued scrubbing the cloth along his cheek, bakugou found himself more than grateful for how much his quirk made him sweat. if it wasn’t for the nitroglycerin-like substance he produced, his skin would be scratched and dried up. 

a knock sounded at his door. silence came, until the knock found its way to his ears. a set of three knocks, then five, then it was a needy banging. 

whoever was on the other side heard his audible groan and shuffling feet dragging across the floor, because they knocked a lot harder. 

he swung the door open, hinges crying out. 

bakugou’s upper lip curled in disgust. tokage twirled her hair around a finger, eyelashes sticking together with mascara. “katsuki,’ she greeted. 

his eyes narrowed on her. “don’t call me that.” 

“what should I be calling you, then? baby? or honey?” 

oh yes, bakugou wanted to vomit. what even was her name again? whatever, it didn’t matter. “lizard teeth, listen. i-” 

“lizard teeth? why would you address me like that?” 

“because i don’t know your damn name, alright? i don’t-” 

“tokage. need me to spell it out for you?” 

“no. shut up. i need to-” 

“you should remember it, because i was one of the few who got in through recommendations, remember?” 

“and yet here you are in class 1B. can you shut the hell up now?” 

“well, you’re just being shitty.” 

“why are you here, tokage.” more of a demand than a question, as bakugou’s questions always came across if he ever bothered to ask them. 

“because, for our date tonight, I need to pick up some things and I really hope you’re up for coming with me.” 

“no.” 

“please?” 

“no. stop pushing. and I don’t want to-” 

“come on, grouchy.” tokage activated her quirk, one scale slipping into his dorm and pushing him towards her. she gripped the collar of his shirt and grinned. “come with me for a short bit, and I’ll count that as our date, m’kay?” 

bakugou opened his mouth once more to protest, but tokage silenced him by pressing one slender finger to his lips. 

“I’m fully aware you don’t want to go on this date with me.” 

he relaxed, shoulders slumping. if bakugou was younger, if he was even just a little bit more stubborn as he had been before, perhaps he’d be out of this mess already, or never in it in the first place. 

tokage let her hand fall back to her side—both of them. the scale returned to her lower calf; the jet-black leggings she wore now had a perfect hole in them.

“do you think i’m dense, bakugou?” 

“then why ask me out?” bakugou felt himself leaning back. 

“because if i can get under the skin of that stupid little...what do you like to call them? stupid little extras? yeah, that stupid extra who can’t stop fluttering googly-eyes at you every minute, then i’ll be perfectly content.” 

“who the hell are you talking about?” 

“alright, so you are oblivious.” tokage took a step back and crossed her arms. “are you both unaware of how you’ve both been pining for each other’s attention? y/n, that classmate of yours.” 

“...y/n?” 

“do you know their name or do i have to describe in excruciating detail what they look like?” 

“no, no i know who you’re talking about. but you’ve got to be shitting me, alright? there’s nothing there.” 

“i’m from 1B, and if there’s something going on in 1A, monoma is going to tell us.” 

“shithead, get out of my face.” 

“you still have to go out with me.” 

“why the f-” 

“because, bakugou. if you don’t, i’ll be sure to make sure y/n knows about your feelings, whether they’re real or not.” 

“why would they care? more importantly, why would you care?” 

- 

y/n kicked their feet up and down, a lollipop in their left hand, phone in their other. kirishima was in his bathroom while y/n was playing a game on their phone. they’d stashed away a bunch of candy back in their dorm and had snatched a handful for the two of them to share while hanging out in kirishima’s. 

he was currently combing a hand through his hair, and then proceeded to rummage through his cabinets. 

kirishima emerged with his lips puckered. “want to come to the  drug mart with me?” he stuck a thumb to his door. 

“what for?” y/n didn’t take a glance away from their phone. 

“this.” he chuckled softly. when y/n looked up, kirishima had two fingers parting his hair. the roots were a jet black, just growing long enough to become the slightest bit visible. 

“you’re going to fry your hair.” they were already shoving their phone away and tossing their sucker into the trash bin. 

“it’s a monthly tradition to do this, y/n. it would be fried by now if i was bad at it,” he joked, tapping his roots once more. 

y/n laughed alongside him as they exited the room. 

-

it was late, and the lights made everything feel like it was set in a world of backrooms. when the rest of the world is sleeping, it is more than quiet, and nothing feels real―possibly in the best ways. 

kirishima scratched at his chin, staring intensely at the hair-dye boxes lined neatly on the shelf before them. 

y/n tapped their foot, not out of impatience, but because of the creep staring at them through the aisle. yes, through. 

between the boxes of hair dye and scattered makeup products, the beady eyes of setsuna tokage could be seen. she smirked when she tugged her hostage closer. 

bakugou’s height had shot up to around six feet in the past two years, so all that was visible was his chest and the black sweatshirt loosely hanging off it, however his grumbling and stream of colorful language was unmistakable. it was him. 

“you okay?” 

y/n’s head snapped to their friend. “what?” 

“you seem on edge. is something wrong?” 

“nothing. nothing is wrong.” 

“you sure? if you need to talk, i’m here.” 

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. don’t worry.” 

“alright.” kirishima held up a box, wiggling it in one hand. “got it.” he gave y/n a toothy grin. 

“good.” y/n snatched his arm up and dragged him along. 

“woah,” kirishima released a breathy chuckle, tugging his arm back. “what’s got you in a hurry?” 

“nothing,” y/n said, shrugging. “just wanna get home.” 

gosh, kirishima knew them too well. his eyes squinted just a bit, and there was that playful grin lingering on his lips, just ghosting over his face, barely visible to anyone who didn’t know him. instead of pointing out the obvious, which was standing just a few aisles behind, kirishima decided to play around. “goodness, honey, the kids are going to be fine back home.” 

heat raced to y/n’s face. “what?” 

kirishima winked. “it’s nice that you care about them, but care about me a little, would’ya? i miss you, too,” he said a tad louder. 

this caught bakugou’s attention. his eyes clashed with y/n’s, and he didn’t look away until y/n did. even a few seconds after, y/n still felt the blaring heat of his gaze upon them.

kirishima slung an arm around his friend, enjoying their flustered image. of course, he would never even think about pushing boundaries. the thought never crossed his mind, but he knew they’d let him know if they were uncomfortable. 

when y/n looked back as kirishima led them away, bakugou’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes were alight with jealousy. 

of course, y/n didn’t notice the emotion flaring. 

tokage smirked, clutching his loose sleeve. 

y/n looked back to their friend, and kirishima flashed them another knowing smile. bakugou was getting antsy with his best friends’ hands all over y/n. well, not all over, but a tap on the shoulder was enough. 

despite the way kirishima’s face dropped, y/n swiped his arm away and wandered over to tokage a bit more angrily than intended. they glanced up to bakugou, who was reaching up to retrieve something for tokage. 

“what brings you guys here? didn’t expect to see you.” inside, y/n was screaming. gosh, their heart was angry. 

“just running errands together.” 

bakugou? going for errands? with tokage? 

“cool, cool,” y/n said, nodding. “i was doing the same with kirishima.” they paused, awkward silence filling the space. 

impatient as ever, bakugou tossed the item into tokage’s basket and clicked his tongue. 

y/n didn’t know why. why were they being so stubborn? despite their protesting thoughts and their entire body screaming to hold back, y/n wrapped their fingers around bakugou’s wrist. 

“actually, bakugou, i have something to ask you. i need your opinion on it. you’re smart, right?” y/n’s voice lifted at the end. although they couldn’t see the, what the hell are you doing face kirishima was making behind them as subtly as possible, they could definitely feel the glare burning into their back. 

“tch, of course i’m smart, shithead.” 

“good.” 

“we’re actually kind of in a rush,” tokage spat out, snappier than usual. 

“do you think i fight okay? i need someone  with a perspective like yours to know if i do.” 

“what kind of question is that, dumbass? i don’t care if you can fight well or not, just so long as i can beat the shit outta ya.” 

tokage let out a low growl. 

y/n smirked, hand still around bakugou’s wrist. “i’d like to know if i can beat you, then, so you can tell me if i’m good or not.” 

ohgoshohgoshohgosh where was this coming from? 

bakugou squinted. he leaned in closer, like he didn’t hear them. “speak up.” 

y/n knew he heard them correctly, but he got awfully close. 

feeling a little sneaky themselves, y/n ghosted their fingers over his strong jaw, tilting his head closer so they could speak clearly into his ear. “let’s train together,” y/n said, staring tokage dead in the eyes. 

it was a stupid rivalry, really. they’d both been accepted through recommendations. they’d been friends all throughout middle school, and yet when y/n made it into 1A, tokage felt it a necessity to excel at everything and rub it in their face. no way was y/n letting them get away with this. 

“i want to see how strong i am.” y/n let their voice drop just a bit. “you’re strong, right?” 

“are you taunting me?” bakugou said, voice nearly a whisper. he still hadn’t moved from leaning down and hadn’t bothered to move y/n’s fingertips from his jaw. 

“absolutely not.” y/n sent a small grin in the direction of their rival. “let’s just see who can beat who. we’ve never been against one another like this.” 

tokage huffed, tugging bakugou back. his eyes were softened when they met y/n’s, and there was simmering, small grin on his face. 

tokage, however, looked less intrigued. “he’s not your boyfriend.” 

y/n shrugged, already backing away. they spread their arms in a mockery of surrender. “he’s not yours, either.” 

[stevesbestgirl]

Omg congratulations on 300 followers 🥰😍.

For your celebration (and only if you're not too overwhelmed with asks) I would like

James "Bucky" Barnes and the Blind date and Enemies to lovers prompts 😍🥰.

Thanks so much! This came out way angstier than I planned on, but I'm really happy with it.

To put in a request, click here

I'm also extending my celebration until June 11th!

Sunshine

ex!Bucky x Reader

(1113 Words)

“No. No, no, no, no,” you muttered under your breath. “There’s no way.”

He was sitting alone at one of the little tables, the only person solo in the whole place. No. Your blind date must not be here yet, maybe he was running late. It wasn’t him.

You stood, lingering in the café doorway for too long. Those blue eyes, your ex’s eyes, flicked up to you standing there, letting the air conditioning out the open door. His lips parted slightly, eyes widening as he went through the same thought process you were.

“Could you close the door, please?” a passing server chirped at you.

You sidestepped, eyes still locked on Bucky, jaw clenched. He raised his hand, the ungloved one, in a hesitant wave before nudging out the chair across from him with his boot. You rolled your eyes; of course he was out in black from head to toe on a ninety-degree day.

Huffing, you squared your shoulders and marched over, sliding into the chair and feeling the vinyl stick to your thighs instantly.

“So, you know Erikka?” You’d known it was a mistake not to tell your friends about dating Bucky. But he was so private and you’d tried hard to respect it. Now look where it had gotten you.

“Clint does. Said she was a friend of Laura’s.”

You fiddled with the chipping paint on the tabletop; each table had been painted with a different flower in a past life and your sprigs of lavender had seen better days, “And you’re going on blind dates now.”

“I’ve been rethinking things.” He scratched uncomfortably at the back of his neck, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“Clearly. Since when you dumped me, you said it wasn’t right to drag a partner into your life.”

“Sunshine, when I said that, I meant it.”

The use of the affectionate nickname tugged at the barely healed wound. He’d caught you singing “You Are My Sunshine,” and fallen in love with it. He hummed it around the compound so much that Sam had teased him for it. You’d sung it softly for him after he’d had a nightmare, clutching him to your chest and brushing the hair from his forehead. It was a source of comfort. Now it just hurt.

“But when you changed your mind, you didn’t think to reach out,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“I thought-”

“Sorry for the delay, can I get you guys anything?” You wished the server would go away. You wanted to ask all the questions that were stuck inside your head and tell James Barnes exactly where he could stick his blind date.

“Two hot cocoas please. A splash of mint in one of ‘em.” The server didn’t miss a beat, bustling off.

You hated that he remembered the way you liked it. “Hot chocolate in June?”

He cracked half a smile, “Never stopped you before.” God, you hated even more that his smile made your heart skip. He sobered, lowering his voice, “I didn’t reach out because I thought you hated me. It didn’t seem fair to come back after hurting you.”

You couldn’t blame him for thinking that. You’d spent months telling yourself you hated him because it made it easier to cope with. But now that he was sitting across from you, you knew better.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Why not?” He toyed with a sugar packet, fidgeting like he didn’t quite believe you.

“God Bucky, you’re even denser than I gave you credit for.”

He chuckled softly, “I always told you that you were the brains for both of us.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that,” you sighed. “You really don’t know?”

“There’s a lot I don’t know,” he braved a real smile, “Wouldn’t mind if you told me though.”

“I-”

“Two hot cocoas. You guys need anything else?”

“We’re all set, thanks.” You gritted your teeth; you knew the server was doing their job, but couldn’t they see you were having a conversation?

Bucky glanced back as the server left, “You sure? I’ll buy you lunch-”

“I love you, you idiot,” you blurted out, exasperated. He stiffened and your heart sank. You hadn’t expected him to feel the same way, since he’d been the one to break things off, but you hadn’t expected him to look so traumatized.

“That’s why I don’t hate you. That’s why this is my first date since-” You shook your head, “That’s why this isn’t a date at all. Because I’m glad you’re in a better place now, but I can’t sit here and pretend to be happy that you’re looking for someone else.”

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your pocket and tossed them onto the table as you hastily stood, “Good luck, Bucky.”

You rushed out the door, the heat closing around you. Maybe if you were lucky, people would think your tears were sweat. You heard the tinkle of the little bell behind you and prayed; don’t be-

“Y/N, wait!”

It was like your legs had been waiting for his command. You wanted to keep walking, to pretend you hadn’t heard him, but instead, you were standing stock still in the middle of the sidewalk, the people veering around you looking irritated.

Bucky caught up, his fingers closing around yours, his expression clouding at the faint tear tracks on your cheeks, “You didn’t ever tell me.”

Your voice sounded steadier than you felt, “It’s a good thing I didn’t get the chance. I know you’ve seen some scary stuff, but you looked terrified in there.”

“I was,” he admitted. Ouch. You didn’t think he would admit it. “But not for the reason you think.” He tugged you over by a storefront, out of the foot traffic, looking nervous again, “I was afraid I messed things up with you forever.”

“Bucky, you don’t need to-”

“I do need to, sunshine,” he cupped your cheek. “I was trying to protect you because I love you too. And when I realized how dumb that was, you were the first person I wanted to call, but I thought it was too late.” He squeezed your hand, “But if it’s not-”

You kissed him before you could think better of it. He was already close, shielding you from the bustling sidewalk. All you had to do was stand on tiptoe, your lips brushing his. Then his hands were around your waist, lifting your feet off the ground.

Your head was telling you it was foolish to let him back in so easily, but your heart was soaring as your fingers tangled his hair. He held you so close, so firmly- it was like he wasn’t ever letting go.

[legends-live-in-memories]

Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century

AYO! Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle! Team Enemies-to-Lovers for the win. I bring you another oneshot. but this time i used 3 prompts like a dumbass.

Fics Masterlist

Daminette Oneshot 4.3K words (no warnings except slight cursing)

Summary:

“Marinette is invited to the Super-Rockin' Wedding of the Century and she needs a date. Alya is both her best and worst wingman.”

Day 2 of MGI Trope Tussle, I used 3 prompts to make this thing: 1. "You don't have to like me, you just need to pretend you do." 2. "I like your costume. You look very cute." "Are you making fun of me?" 3. 'Write about a very unusual wedding proposal.' this is the culmination of all my efforts.

without further ado:

It was the biggest news on the internet. Global sensation, international rockstar, Jagged Stone, was officially engaged to childhood friend turned manager, Penny Rolling. Memes and fan theories stormed every corner of the web. Trending topics including #rockstar_wedding and #RollingStone permeated every social media platform. Guest lists were speculated, dress designers were tagged in every post that even mentioned the words ‘wedding’ or ‘bride’. It was total mayhem but none felt it worse than up-and-coming Parisian designer, M. D. Cheng, privately known as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

The young adult was up to her neck in design templates, and was drowning in half-baked ideas and sketches. While the internet has only heard about the proposal for a solid two weeks at this point, Marinette was in the know for six months. Jagged Stone had contacted her in advance because he needed her help with the proposal itself.

And what a proposal it was.  

Jagged had outlined his idea in simple terms but it was still so mind-boggling that Marinette needed him to draw some visual aids to completely convey his idea. Initially it sounded simple enough but the more the man spoke, the more Marinette felt her brain fry at the mental picture. It first involved recreating a scene from Penny’s favourite movie. Which sounded rather romantic, if you ignored the fact that her favourite movie was Bride of Chucky. Then it involved Jagged dressed as the Tinman from Wizard of Oz. Oh, and the proposal had to happen on Halloween because that was the anniversary of their first date apparently, and based on everything else this plan entailed it might as well have been. Marinette’s role in all of this was to simply re-make the white wedding dress Chucky’s bride, Tiffany, wore because Penny already had the leather jacket to match. Of course she did. She didn’t even want to know how Jagged acquired the Tinman suit. Not her barrel of monkeys.

While many thought Jagged was the eccentric one of the pair, due to his loud personality and being an actual rockstar, the more Marinette worked for the two of them over the years, the more she learned how absolutely wrong they all were. It turned out it was Penny’s idea for Jagged to dye his hair purple, and she was the one to ask him out on Halloween all those faithful years ago. Her calm and collected demeanor was an impressive cover for the absolute weirdo she actually was. And Jagged had planned a proposal that was undoubtedly perfect for her. Regardless of how abso-fucking-lutely bizarre it was.

To each their own and let’s move on.

The set-up for the proposal started with Jagged, dressed as the Tinman, playing the part of Chucky, who begins the body-switching chant from the movie. Everything from that point on was resting on Penny’s love for the movie. Without hesitating, Penny, dressed as Tiffany, and playing her part, knew the lines by heart and immediately began reenacting the scene with Jagged. Her lines involved telling ‘Chucky’ to kiss her while she reaches for a knife that’s supposed to be in his pocket. Instead, as Jagged was still dressed as the Tinman, Penny pulled out a slip of paper. On said paper, the words ‘All the Tinman wanted was a heart’ were written in Jagged’s almost illegible chicken scratch. When Penny was distracted with the piece of paper, Jagged had gotten down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring. The actual words of his proposal were never actually said because, upon seeing the ring, Penny flung herself into the man, clipping her chin into his metal-plated shoulder, but she wasn’t complaining.  

So that was how the proposal went.

Wedding planning started almost immediately since the newly engaged had already picked a theme. And this is where Marinette began to regret every life choice she has made since she was thirteen; starting with opening the mysterious box she found on her desk and ending with agreeing to being the main designer for the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. One thing that wasn’t well-known but not a secret about Jagged was that he was a superhero fan. He grew up enjoying the fictional ones in his childhood comic books and he adored the real ones he witnessed in his adult life. His song that he dedicated to the teenage Ladybug was only one part of his… appreciation. His hero-worship went so far as to beieve that a hero-themed wedding was appropriate. Or he didn’t, but also didn’t care about adhering to societal propriety and went with that theme anyways. So the Rockin’ Wedding of the Century was now the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. And twenty-three year old Marinette was incharge of the entire wedding party’s outfits.

Perfect.

As a small mercy from some god, both the bride and groom to-be had a rather short list of people in their parties. Marinette was also able to design appropriate hero-themed outfits for all of them and scheduled them for fittings in the coming weeks. That, surprisingly, was the easy part as there were plenty of heroes to draw inspiration from. However, that wasn’t the cause of her current crisis right now.

No. Marinette was up to her neck in unnecessary designs and ideas because she’s been avoiding one particular contingency in her acceptance of the wedding invitation.

She needed a date.

She needed a date because she had promised Penny that she wasn’t overworking herself and to prove it, she would bring a date to the wedding. Rather than call any of the people who expressed interest in her at some point in time, she designated herself to wallow in her situation and distract herself with designs. In the midst of her one person pity party, her phone rang under the sea of ripped out pages. She scoured for the device and hastily answered before she could accidently send the caller to voicemail.

“Hello?” She didn’t check the caller ID and was delighted at the sound of her best friend answering her.

“Marinette! How’s it going over there?” Alya’s voice was mixed in with the busy street life of Metropolis. She had moved there immediately after high school, snatching an internship with the Daily Planet and attending the local community college. She and Marinette don’t call often due to time differences, but when they do it’s like they’ve never parted. She always looked forward to her calls.

“It’s going great, Als,” if she ignored her current dilemma, then yeah, everything was perfect. “But you wouldn’t happen to have an available bachelor willing to be my date to the ‘Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century’ in your back pocket, would you?”  

Alya’s answering laugh was both comforting and teasing and Marinette felt herself missing her even more. What she said next, however, took Marinette by surprise.

“Actually I do.”

“Pardon?”

“Well,” she took a pause to build suspense. “I know a guy who knows a guy. But it’s nothing shady, I swear.”

“That’s not comforting.” Oh god. What has she unintentionally signed herself up for?

“You know my coworker, Jon? The guy who does the photography for all my field work?” Alya had met Jon as soon as she had started her internship. Both of his parents were top journalists at the Daily Planet so he volunteered to act as tour guide for all the new interns. He and Alya, from the exasperated stories Marinette has heard from Nino, got along like a house on fire. If he was involved, Marinette was starting to doubt even further that this was going to end well for her.

“Yes, I know Jon. How is he by the way?”

“He’s fine, but I remember him telling me how he tried to set up his best friend on several dates over the years and how they all ended poorly. He’s as approachable as a brick wall; not just a prick but the whole damn cactus. Or so Jon says.” How does that sound like someone Marinette wanted to bring along with her to the wedding? “But he’s totally your type so I could ask Jon to wrap him up in bubblewrap and send him your way whenever you want.”

“How,” and Marinette said this with a lot of feeling, “is he my type exactly?”

“Green eyes with daddy issues.”

“ALYA!” Marinette was absolutely floored at her bluntness. She wasn’t even sorry about shouting into the receiver.

“Am I wrong? You have a type and he fits that type. Jon mentioned how this guy and his dad hit several roadblocks when they first met. And I’ve seen pictures of him so ‘green eyes’ checks too.”

“That is not my type of guy.” She can’t believe this was how this conversation was going.

“Adrien.”

“I didn’t even know who his father was at the time, Alya.”

“Felix.”

“His dad is dead! That doesn’t count as ‘daddy issues.’” She can feel her cheeks flaming as the call went on. Any hotter and she was going to set her sketchbooks on fire. “Besides, I dated Luka so he doesn’t fit the criteria.”

“He’s an outlier and that’s only because his eyes are blue.” Okay, fine she had a type. “And besides, you don’t even have to date the guy. You only need him to accompany you to the wedding and you both go your separate ways after. No harm, no foul.”

Right. That was true. No strings attached. She could do that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but,” she held her breath and let it out loudly, ignoring Alya’s chuckle at her dramatics.” Give Jon my number to give this guy. And send his number to me.”

“Wahoo! Look at you, girl,” Alya was hooting and hollering over the speaker and Marinette found herself going along with the theatrics. “Okay, I will. But I gotta go, my cab is here. Bye!”

“Bye! Stay safe. Oh before you go, what’s Jon’s friend’s name anyways?”

“Uh, Damian, I think.” The call ended before Marinette could respond, but it was okay she mused. Tossing her phone onto her couch, she flopped down onto her floor and stared at her ceiling contemplatively.

What could go wrong?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Alya had described this Damian guy as ‘not just a prick but the whole damn cactus,’ she was right. Marinette had been texting back and forth with Damian for a month, and the guy was making this idea seem less and less worth it by the day. Whenever Marinette tried to learn more about the guy, he would ghost her for days on end before replying with a half-assed response at best. She knew nothing about him other than that his first name was Damian and that he was from Gotham. She had no idea how the ball of life that was Jon was even friends with someone like Damian. She asked as much to Alya in their most recent call.

“How did they even meet?” She was pacing the floor plan of her apartment, ready to tear her hair out. “Did Damian bully him in school or something?”

“Apparently their dads knew each other and introduced them,” Alya sounded half awake, stifling a yawn; probably because Marinette had called her at 1 am, Metropolis’s time. “Their brothers being friends also forced them to get along.”

“And that’s another thing!” Marinette had paused in her pacing and was now staring intently at a potted plant in the corner of her living room. Any more rage in her glare and the plant would have wilted and died. “He doesn’t tell me anything about him. I don’t need to know all his personal information, but if he’s going to be flying out to Paris on my behalf, I think I at least deserve to know his last name.”

“Hey, M,” another yawn echoed through the speaker, “I love you, truly, but maybe this could wait for holier day time hours?”

“I guess,” a vindictive part of Marinette felt like this was payback for all those inopportune calls when Marinette was busy with clients. “Sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

“It’s no big deal. But have you tried talking to him about it? If he’s ghosting your texts, try calling him. If he ignores you then too then maybe you should try finding another person to be your plus one.”

“The wedding is in two weeks, Alya!” Marinette partially regrets waiting so long to vent her frustration about the situation but she had tried to tough it out. “I would have much preferred if you were my plus one. You sure there’s no way to convince your parents to skip out on the family trip?”

“Sorry, M. Once the news about the proposal hit the internet, I tried everything. I even tried to use work, saying that I could cover the ceremony for the newspaper. My folks won’t budge though. My dad’s aunt is important to him and he wants us all at the funeral.”

“Right, right, I forgot about that.” Now she felt like an ass. “Send you dad my condolences when you see him again.”

“Will do. Good morning, Marinette. And don’t worry too much about the guy. Everything will turn up great. I can feel it.”

“Thanks, Alya. Good night, get some sleep.”

The line went dead and Marinette let out a rather weary exhale. She had no idea how this was going to work. She pulled up her contacts and searched for what she had Damian saved as.

‘Douche’ flashed on her screen and she hit the call button without remorse. She didn’t care that it was also currently 1 am in Gotham. He didn’t deserve that much consideration from her.

“What?” His voice was gravely and deep. And also really pissed if his clipped tone was anything to go by.

“Damian? Hi, this is Marinette, the girl you’re accompanying to the wedding in two weeks?” Her voice was pitched as if she was dealing with an irritating customer. Fake and polite.

“I know who you are. Why are you calling me at this unreasonable hour?” Fair, but Marinette was still aggravated at him so she wouldn’t concede.

“I’m calling because we need to talk.” She heard him scoff over the line and she felt her blood boil even hotter. She took several calming breaths to reign her temper in. “Don’t hang up.”

“Look,” She didn’t give him a chance to refuse and kept talking, getting everything off her chest. “This wedding is important to me and I promised the bride I would bring a date. After that you can delete my number and we never have to speak to each other ever. You don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

“Whatever,” he sounded less annoyed from when he first answered the phone. “I will act as cordial as the situation requires, and nothing more. I also have my attire secured for the wedding and accommodations in Paris already prepared. I will see you at the wedding.”

“Than—” The sound of the call ending interrupted her and her frustration was back tenfold. With a cry in anguish she flung her phone onto her couch and stomped into her kitchen to channel her rage into baking.

Three loaves of bread and a dozen eclairs later, Marinette felt calm enough to finish the final touches on her outfit for the wedding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day of the Super-Rockin’ Wedding of the Century. The Rolling-Stone’s, as they were asking to be called, had kept the ceremony small. Relatively. Only two hundred invited guests, few of which were asked to bring a plus one. Marinette was over the moon at the array of outfits people were sporting. Some chose full-on cosplay while others, like herself, went for more subtle nods to the heroes. In honour of a previous Ladybug, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, Marinette based her outfit off of Wonder Woman’s uniform, Hippolyta’s daughter. A navy blue sequined halter top bodice that flows into a blood red A-line skirt. She paired it with a thick silver belt, silver gladiator heels rather than boots and broad silver arm cuffs. It was simple but effective. Besides, all attention should be on the bride and groom today.

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention and she turned only to come face first with red with black spots. Ladybug. Someone chose her as inspiration. How flattering. Looking up to see who was wearing the Ladybug-themed suit jacket, she stared at a pair of deep forest green eyes and a sneer to ruin that ridiculously handsome face. She recognized him from the photo Alya had sent some time ago. Damian.

“Hi, Damian,” at least one of them had to be civil and Marinette knew it was going to be her. But the idea that of all the heroes for him to choose from he chose her sent her into poorly stifled fits of giggling. Images of him going ‘Lucky Charm’ and ‘Miraculous Ladybug’ were almost too much to bear.

“I don’t know what’s so amusing about my choice of attire,” his face was starting to flush in similar shades to his jacket and that made Marinette laugh harder. “Ladybug is a well respected heroine and I thought it appropriate to pay homage while in her home city.”

“No. No no. There is nothing wrong with it. I like your costume, you look very cute.”

“Are you making fun of me?” His irritation was rather cathartic for the still giggling woman.

“No, I just didn’t think you would have put that much thought into your outfit for today. You always gave me the impression that you were ready to back out at any time.”

“I made a commitment and I had all intentions to see it through the end.”

“Could have fooled me.” And her snark was back. Now was not the time to pick a fight with the guy, he did fly all the way to Paris on her behalf after all.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” and Marinette wanted to know how he managed to sound so condescending with that statement. “How did you even get an invitation to this wedding anyways? You’re not a celebrity and you don’t look like family either.”

“Actually,” she said it with more force than what was probably necessary but his slightly accusatory tone was just so irritating. “I am the lead designer for the wedding party,” her chest was swimming with confidence at the chance to talk about her job. “I’ve worked with the bride and groom for years; M. D. Cheng, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette will deny to her grave the rush of satisfaction at the absolute gobsmacked look on Damian’s face. A real fish out of water. Mouth open wide ready to catch flies. She wished she could capture this moment forever.

The moment was over too soon because Damian was regaining his composure and slipping into his default stoic expression. He cleared his throat and fixed a look at Marinette. It was rather intense.

“I believe I owe you an apology then.” He looked put-out at admitting something so menial. “I believed you were nothing more than a socialite chain climber.”

“A what?”

“When Jon reached out to me saying that a friend of one of his coworkers needed a date for an event, and when that event turned out to be the wedding of someone of such popularity, I figured you were only trying to increase your own social status by showing up with me on your arm.”

“And you said ‘yes’ anyways?” Marinette was confused but pieces of the mystery that is Damian were starting to fit in place. But something else stuck out as odd to her. “Also, how would you being my date increase my social status anyhow?”

He scoffs before answering. Bitch.

“What? It wouldn’t be the first time one of Jon’s set-ups ended that way. Besides, we’ve had an agreement that I can’t turn down an offer until meeting the person face to face.” Weird deal but some friendships are just like, Marinette supposes. “And being seen with me is enough to make anyone more popular.”

“...And you are?”

“Damian… Wayne…” He spoke as if he was talking to a small child. As if it should be obvious who he was like he was some celeb— Oh shit.

A name had flashed into her mind. On the finalised guest list, Marinette had only seen it once in passing, there was a name that belonged to someone Jagged was rather excited to see. He said the friend was an old college buddy. She remembered that much. She had completely forgotten that ‘a billionaire playboy’ was also attached to the name. Damian was the son of Bruce Wayne. Suddenly everything in the past few months made perfect sense. The cold shoulder, the ghosting, and his prickly disposition. He was overly guarded because he had justified reasons to be. Now she felt like an ass.

“Oh.” Real intelligent, Marinette.

“Oh? What, you didn’t know?” He sounded incredulous at the notion and he had every right to be. Marinette could only shake her head. Words were failing her now, her brain trying to rewrite the memories of every interaction the two ever had.

She was saved from further mortification by a call for everyone to find their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ceremony was beautiful. Penny’s dress was a silver grey, tied back with a golden belt. Instead of a long train, Marinette had attached a black cape that shimmered in the right lighting. Penny wore a tiara with two peaks to imitate the ‘bat-ears.’ A Batman-themed wedding dress was not something she ever saw herself making, but she was proud at how beautiful and confident Penny looked in it. Jagged was adorn in a royal blue suit with bold red lapels. He also had a matching red cape. His hair was styled in the familiar sleek way Superman wears it. The two made quite the pair.  

The reception was a lively affair. Jagged had dedicated several songs to his new wife and they dazzled the crowd on the dance floor. Marinette didn’t pay much attention to the speeches beyond a quick glance at Damian when his own father stepped up to the podium. He had buried his head in his hands, looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. A courtesy pat on the back was all Marinette gave to him.

The two hadn’t really spoken much since the revelation that they had completely misjudged each other. The awkward tension was almost palpable. As Marinette was gathering the courage to speak to him, to try and officially clear the air, she was being dragged by one of the bridesmaids onto the dancefloor. It was time for the bride to throw the bouquet. All the unmarried women were being corralled into a tight cluster and Marinette got swept up in the tide.

Marinette wasn’t focusing on the actual game, trying her hardest not to get trampled, when she saw something move in her periphery. Years of being Ladybug had left her with finely honed instincts so she could not be blamed when she immediately jumped and caught the incoming object. The bouquet. She had caught the bouquet. Oh that was just her luck. Deafening squeals of delight brought her out of her own head and she was suddenly being embraced in Penny’s arms. She returned the hug, sharing in her delight, before breaking away to sit down.

“Nice catch.” His voice had surprised her, she hadn’t expected him to speak to her for the rest of the night.

“Uh, thank you. Just lucky, I guess.” Damian didn’t get the chance to respond because he was being dragged by his own father to join all the bachelors in catching the garter. Marinette was equally uninterested in this spectacle and had let her mind wander to other things.

A loud uproar caught her attention again and her eyes zeroed in on Damian holding the tossed garter. He made his way back over to her, dropping himself into his seat gracelessly. The two sat in silence, contemplating the implications of them both catching the garter and bouquet. The games were done purely for tradition’s sake, with total disregard of what it was supposed to symbolise. Still. One’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Minutes ticked passed and Marinette was beginning to wonder if someone was going to talk about the elephant in the room.

“So,” Damian’s voice was slightly strained, like he wasn’t used to being this flustered. It was kind of endearing. Wait what?

“So.”

“While marriage seems far out of reach for right now,” Oh god. He was going to talk about it. “How does dinner sound, next Friday?”

“Wait,” he wanted to spend more time with her? After their disastrous first impressions? “Really?”

“Really. I believe we started off on the wrong foot,” he let out a soft chuckle, almost self-deprecating. “Which isn’t really new for me, but it’s not everyday I meet someone who doesn’t recognise me at first glance. I think you’re someone who I would like to get to know better. If that is something you are also interested in.”

“Yeah,” Marinette knows all about wanting to get acquainted with someone who she’s had a bad first impression of. Just look at her past relationships. Wow, she really does have a type. Damning thoughts for later. “Friday works for me. Seven pm?”

“Perfect. I’ll text you the details then.”

“Wonderful, I can’t wait.”

The rest of the evening was spent in companionable silence with small bouts of conversation in between. They shared a couple dances on the floor and parted ways at the end of the night with budding anticipation for Friday.

As Marinette was preparing for bed that night in the comfort of her apartment, she sent a text to Alya that her friend would see later in the day.

You were right, I do have a type :(

[hoodieofholland]

Could you maybe do the reader is a famous actress and Tom is not famous and he used to make fun of her in high school and when he sees her he tries to apologise and ends in fluff😊

A/n: ooookaay, this went with a bit of enemies to lovers lol. I went through this shit in school, and I’m grateful that I learnt to deal with it later, I hope to everyone who has gone through it too that they feel good now :)

Warnings: mentions of bullying, language.

"Oh, fuck, I'm sorry!"

You almost can't register everything that has passed through your eyes, until a croissant falls from your hand. The food in now laying on the ground of your favorite cafe, a pout of irritation forming on the corner of your lips before you can see the man who has bumped into you.

"Oh, God, I'm really sorry. Hey, man, can you please- yeah, thank you", he's talking to one of the employees, who's heading to clean the mess now. "It's my fault, miss, let me pay you another- y/n?"

You finally lift your gaze towards the man in front of you, eyes huge as he takes a look at you, recognizing your features from so many years ago. And also for a recent poster he just saw in one of the bus stops while walking down the street.

"Uh, yeah, hello", you force a smile, too driven by the incident, but afraid to be rude with someone who might just be a fan. But there's something so familiar on his face that you can't bring yourself to remember immediately. The crooked nose, thin lips, and some more wrinkles by his eyes, more than you could remember-

Thomas. Your classmate from high school...

... or should you refer as your bully from high school?

"Tom?", you gasp in surprise. He smiles at you.

"Oh, you remember", he chuckles, shoving his hands inside his pockets. "Haven't seen you since school. I mean, personally. I think I have seen you everyday for the past couple of weeks".

You blush, lowering your head as a soft smile makes its way to your lips. You remembered Tom very well, not only because he was one of the prettiest boys in your school, but also because he used to make fun of you. A lot.

"Yeah, I think we never forget about the ones who impact on you the most", you say under your breath, but he still can hear it. A pout is visible on his lips, as a frown on his forehead.

"About that, I guess I never really told you how sor-"

"Oh, my God, it's y/n y/l/n!", a girl shout, holding her phone firmly on her hand as she makes her way towards you. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but can I take a picture with you?"

You turn your head towards the girl and smile. She's not much younger than you, has sparkles in her eyes and a light pink on her cheeks. You should be used to his kind of approach by now, since your last album was a hit by the end of last month, when it was released. Still, you found it exciting every time a person asked you to take pictures because they appreciated your work.

"Sure", you say, holdind your cup of coffee on your hand and trying to deal with the bags from your recent shopping on the other. Watching you struggle a bit, Tom offered his help.

"Here, lemme take it", he takes the bags and the coffee on his hands and step out of the way.

You prepare for the camera and when you realise, the girl is taking several selfies with you.

"Oh, God, thank you so much!", she cheered when she was done. "I just wanted to say that your songs really touched me, I went through the same things in high school and it was incredible the way you put it all in an album".

"Thank you", you giggle as she hugs you a goodbye. "Hope you have a nice day".

The girl walks out of the cafe, a huge grin of satisfaction on her face, and you are left with Tom by your side.

"That was cool", he says, still holding your things. You look at him and see his warm smile towards you. It made something click on your brain, an old memory, from when he made a joke about you signing down for the talent show in your school.

It was written in one of your songs, never letting your forget about that. Just a small line about a certain guy who made fun of your dreams back then. You didn't really care that much now, neither when you were in high school. You were brave, and that's what people most liked about your lyrics.

Remember when you told me I was silly trying singing?

"Yeah, it was", you give him a small smile and reach for your things. "Well, it was nice seeing you again-"

"Wait, uh..." he scratched the back of his neck. "I still own you a new croissant", his voice was rushed and his cheeks were blushing.

"No, it's not a big deal. It's okay, you don't have to-"

"I insist", he raises a brown. "For old times, c'mon. It's not every day we bump into our old classmates".

You take a look at you watch to check the time. You still had a couple of minutes until your next duty, so you shrug. "Why not?"

You spent the next thirty minutes sitting in a small table, with light chatter and even laughter. You and Tom talked about the last school year, about some other classmates and the ones you keep getting in touch.

"Well, I didn't attend to the prom anyways, so...", Tom chuckled sheepishly at some point, averting his gaze to his cup of tea.

"And why not?", you tilted your head, curious about why one of the most beautiful boys in school didn't go to the most expected night of school.

He coughed a bit. "I didn't- uh, the girl I wanted to go with didn't go, so... yeah. I rather be at home back then".

You frowned, "Did you invite her? Cause I can't see any girl declining your invitation to stay home instead".

Tom smiled shyly and bite his lips. "Guess I'm the one to blame. Didn't have the guts to ask her".

"Really?", you arched your brows in surprise. He shakes his head yes. "That's a shame".

"You didn't go neither, so you can't say anything about me", he said playfully and you laughed, but it happens that you realised you never told him that.

"How do you know I never went to the prom?", you ask, a trace of a questioning smile on your lips. His smile fades away, being replaced by a frown.

He takes a few seconds to speak again.

"Y'know, I listened to your album. It's great, really good", he says, hesitating. "And there's this one song, where I thought that the lyrics sound very personal and kinda... it kinda sounded like yourself, for what I remember from all this time ago".

Your breathe comes in a sharp, "Yeah, I- I know which one you're talking about".

He stared back in your eyes, "Is that about me?"

You freeze. The answer is easy, but you didn't want to hand it to him. "No. Not really", you clean your throat. "There were a bunch of people who said those things to me-".

"Yeah, but do all of them have brown eyes, thin lips and...", he chuckles, turning his head down for a second, "... a slit on his eyebrow?"

You gulp, those were, in fact, parts of your lyrics. It was an obvious description of Tom. You could never forget how you spent hours of your day hating each one of those parts of him, but any time he would give you the tiniest smile when nobody was looking, you would list all these things in a different tone.

Frustrated, you grab your bags and makes a move to get up. "If you asked me to sit with you just to make fun one more time, then you didn't listen to my song carefully. It does not drive me mad anymore, Thomas".

"What? Hey, no!", his pupils were huge and he quickly touched your wrist, silently asking you to sit down again. "No, darling, I didn't mean it that way. 'M sorry".

You face him, breathing heavily as you tried to calm your nerves down. "Please, sit. Let me tell you something. If you don't like it, then you can go".

You raise a brow in suspicious, but sit back anyways. There's nothing he could say that would hurt you, you tell yourself.

"Well, go on", you hurry him up. He nods one time.

"What I meant is that... I felt like a jerk when I listened to this one, but not only because I realised the impact of the things I told you. Mainly because- because I realised that you never knew why I said those things to you. I saw... that maybe you did have feelings for me too, back then".

A moment of silence is settled between the two of you, Tom's ears getting red.

"What?", you breathed out. "Feelings for you too? What do you mean?"

He chuckles sheepishly, "Well, you didn't know that I had a crush on you?", he scratched the back of his neck. "I thought it was pretty obvious. My friends always said that, and I- I was kinda mad that you didn't like me back, so kept saying those things to you. It wasn't nice of me, but I was a kid. Anyways, I'm really sorry about that".

You blink a few times, unaware of what to say. For a moment, you thought that maybe he was just playing around with you, but you could see by the frown on his brows, the look on his eyes, that he was being sincere.

Tom laughs to ease the thick tension between you. "Sounds silly now, doesn't it?"

"So I was the girl? I was the girl you didn't invite to prom?", you ask lowly, and he nods a couple of times.

"Yeah. I thought that you would find me ridiculous. Y'know, you were kind, and talented. After that presentation of yours everyone thought you were cool and all. And I just lost courage".

Your heart sink in your chest, remembering the moments you spent thinking that Tom Holland hated you. And then you remembered the times you were sitting in the library, studying for the exam for next day. Tom sat in a chair beside you, there were not really many people around. He would say something like "hey, nerd, what you doing?". You would throw something near "fuck off" or "leave me the fuck alone", and the smugness would drop out of him. He would insist a couple of times until you ignored him, and he would walk out.

"You didn't answer me".

You blink, being taken from your memories. Tom is staring at you with worried eyes.

"About what?"

"Do you forgive me? For what I did and for what I said", he murmurs, playing with the napkins over the table.

You stare back, watching his wrinkles and the frown, the slit on his eyebrow and his deep brown eyes. His thin lips pressed in a tight line. Yeah, that was Tom, from your school. The one who used to make fun of you and now listened to an album based on the feelings you grew along the time you spent with him.

You smile a little, feeling a warm yet good pressure on your chest. "Yeah, we can see about that".

……………………………………………………………

[kpop-zone]

Upside Down | Nayeon

Roommate AU | enemies to lovers | “You know that your book is upside down, right?”

Wordcount: 1,992

“Is that girl serious?”

When you walked into your room and saw the mess of clothes on the floor, you felt a familiar anger starting to seethe in you. You had always thought your roommate in college would be your best friend for life, but no, you had to end up with the most annoying one ever. Angrily, you slammed the door shut and stormed to your bed. Just before you could dramatically throw yourself on it, however, a weird noise coming from the bathroom caused you to stop dead in your tracks. Confused, you looked at the closed door and strained your ears. Was that...the sounds of sobs? Your feet automatically carried you to the source of the sound until you ended up pressing your ear against the bathroom door. For a while it was completely quiet, making you wonder whether your mind had just played a trick on you, but then you clearly heard someone sniffling on the other side, causing you to rip the door open intuitively.

Although it had been obvious that your roommate had to be the one sobbing, you were still shocked to see Nayeon sitting on the floor with a puffy face. Till this day, you had only ever seen her acting careless, arrogant, and rude. Could this pitiful ball of misery in front of you really be your roommate that you despised? Carefully, you approached her, not knowing how to handle this unfamiliar situation. A part of you expected her to snarl at you anyways for barging into the room. To your surprise, however, she only tiredly looked at you before burying her face in her arms again. What were you supposed to do now?

“W-what’s wrong?”

You stuttered while awkwardly standing in front of Nayeon, not daring to touch her.

“Your prayers have been heard, I will soon get kicked out of college and you’ll be rid of me.”

She chuckled in response although her shaky voice gave away how much this sentence hurt her. Confused, you stared at her, torn between feeling joyous because of her words and feeling guilty because of that.

“Why would you be kicked out?”

You asked after choosing not to be an asshole and to feign concern.

“I can’t find my shirt.”

Nayeon barely managed to choke out her words before another loud sob echoed in the room. Surprised, you flinched before clumsily stumbling forward to pat your roommate’s head in an attempt to calm her down.

“Your shirt?”

Nothing made sense to you and slowly the realization hit you that you had actually no idea who Nayeon really was. If you thought about it, you had never really talked with her since you started living together.

“For work. They are going to fire me if I show up without my uniform. How am I supposed to afford college?”

Out of the blue, Nayeon suddenly flung her arms around your legs and buried her face in your belly. Paralyzed in shock, you simply stared at her and let her soak your shirt with her tears. It seemed like she was crying for hours, but eventually her sobs died down and her death grip on your legs started to loosen. Slowly, she pulled away from you, revealing her face that was even puffier than before. For the first time since you met her, there was nothing left of the usual anger that you felt when you looked at her. Instead, it pained you to see her tearstained cheeks and you automatically reached out to caress them gently. You only realized what you were doing when Nayeon’s eyes widened and you almost retrieved your hand in embarrassment. But when she leaned into your touch, you stopped yourself and decided to give Nayeon the comfort that she was seeking. This was not the time to hold grudges. Patiently, you ran your thumb over her cheek until she seemed to have calmed down and you decided that it was time for a more logical approach to this situation.

“Ok, come on. Let’s find you that shirt. No one is getting fired today.”

You disrupted the silence cheerfully before offering Nayeon your hand to help her up. Hesitantly, she wiggled about on the floor before reaching out and accepting your help.

“I’ve searched my whole closet though. It’s nowhere.”

She whined in desperation and you remembered the mess in your room although it didn’t make you as angry anymore as before now that you knew the reason for it.

“Have you looked under your bed? Didn’t you throw your shirt on the floor the last time you came home from work?”

You recalled and Nayeon furrowed her brow until her face lit up in realization.

“Oooooh...”

She exclaimed before bolting out of the bathroom. With an amused grin on your face, you followed her and by the time you reached her bed, she was already holding the missing piece of clothing in her hands.

“I could have thought about that myself...”

Nayeon mumbled sheepishly, causing you to laugh.

“Well...you’re welcome. Now get out of here before your boss fires you for being late.”

You chuckled, making her jump in surprise like she had already forgotten about work. Quickly, Nayeon gathered all her stuff before rushing to the front door. Before she slipped out into the hallway, however, she stopped and looked at you.

“Um...thank you for your help, Y/N. I’m working late, so I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She scratched her neck bashfully and you smiled at her in response before watching her disappear.

What an afternoon.

Accompanied by a loud sigh, you flopped yourself on your bed and shook your head in disbelief. When you had come home today, you had definitely not expected to take care of your crying roommate, much less to feel sorry for her. This whole incident had really caused you to reconsider your opinion of Nayeon. Maybe you had been too harsh on her. Sure, she was the messiest person that you had ever encountered, and she could have been nicer to you at times, but maybe balancing work and her classes had simply become too much for her. If you thought about it, you couldn’t even remember a time that you had ever seen her relax. Deep in thought, you leaned against the headboard of your bed, suddenly finding it hard to see the monster in Nayeon that you had made her out to be until now. You had actually wanted to work on some assignments this evening, but every time you wanted to start writing on your laptop, your thoughts drifted off. Had Nayeon always been so pretty? It seemed like you had always been too busy getting worked up over her antics to really look at her.

“What a waste.”

You mumbled to yourself, regretting all the time that you had wasted by being mad at her. With a pout on your lips, you turned your head to the side to look at the pictures on Nayeon’s wall that showed her with her friends and family.

“Gosh, she’s really pretty.”

You sighed, instantly starting to get lost in the pictures.

All of a sudden, however, you heard how someone unlocked the front door, causing you to jump in surprise. Was Nayeon already back? How much time had you spent just sitting on your bed and drooling over your roommate? In shock, your gaze fell on the clock on your nightstand. 11 pm. You couldn’t believe your eyes. It couldn’t be that late already. The sound of Nayeon entering your dorm was prove enough though that you had really spent a whole evening just dwelling on thoughts. How embarrassing. You could under no circumstances let Nayeon know that she had been on your mind ever since she had left. Act normal, you thought to yourself and quickly grabbed a book from your nightstand to pretend like you were busy. You managed to open a random page just in time when Nayeon looked at you and you stared at the words in front of you without actually reading any of them.

“Hey.”

Nayeon greeted you shyly and only now you dared to look up. Still feeling like you had been caught red-handed, your words were stuck in your throat and you simply nodded at her with an awkward smile on your lips. Confused, Nayeon stared at you for a moment before walking to her bed and sitting down. Mesmerized your gaze was automatically glued to her until your eyes met, causing you to quickly look at your book again in shame. Nayeon, on the other hand, kept staring at you and you gulped nervously. She couldn’t know that you were completely mesmerized by her all of a sudden, right? The room seemed to have caught fire and a dark blush appeared on your cheeks, but Nayeon apparently didn’t share your embarrassment. Calmly, she continued to look at you without uttering a word until she cleared her throat eventually.

“You know that your book is upside down, right?”

She chuckled, causing you to finally look at your book and to realize that she was right. At a blow, the blush on your cheeks became a few shades darker and you closed your eyes in shame. Why did you keep on making a bad impression? Your brain instantly told you to run away to flee this embarrassing situation, but before you could jump off your bed, Nayeon piped up again.

“Hey, Y/N?”

Reluctantly, you turned your head, expecting her to grin at you maliciously, but instead you found her looking even more nervous than you.

“Um...I wanted to thank you again. I know that I’ve been a terrible roommate till now. I was a little overwhelmed lately and took that out on you. I’m sorry.”

She mumbled to your surprise while fidgeting with her fingers. Speechlessly, you stared at her, not having her expected to admit her questionable behavior. Your dumbness didn’t bother Nayeon though. Instead, she used the chance to continue talking.

“And... I was wondering whether I could take you out for dinner to make it up to you?”

Her question was hesitant but determined, causing your jaw to drop. Dinner? What kind of dinner was she talking about? Roommates? Friends? She couldn’t have impossibly asked you out on a date, right? Your thoughts were racing in your brain as you were trying to make sense of her offer to the point that you completely forgot about giving Nayeon an answer to her question. Only when she suddenly leaped to her feet, you zoned back into reality, realizing how ashamed she looked.

“I-I’m sorry...I don’t know why I just asked that. I think, I’ve read the signals wrong. Please forget about this.”

Nayeon stuttered in embarrassment before wanting to rush off, but you were quick to jump to your feet, not caring about your book that fell off the bed with a loud thud.

“NO I WANT YOU TO!”

You yelled, causing Nayeon to stop dead in her tracks and to stare at you in surprise. Embarrassed, you started to blush again, but this time, you didn’t let your words get stuck in your throat.

“I would love to have dinner with you.”

You added sheepishly and a wide, gummy smile appeared on Nayeon’s face.

“Really?”

She asked in disbelief and you nodded. The next moment, a loud squeal echoed through your room before a sudden force caused you to stumble backwards. Nayeon had flung her arms around your neck and was now almost suffocating you. You giggled in amusement and wrapped your arms around her waist to give it a light squeeze. How could you have ever thought that she was arrogant and rude? She was a much bigger dork than you could have ever imagined. And something was telling you that she wouldn’t only turn your room, but your whole life upside down from now on...

[katsukisbimbo]

Not A Kid

part 10 - redemption arc

previous ⮕ next

masterlist

✯ pairing: hawks x reader

✯ genre: enemies-to-lovers au. expect crack

✯ summary: celeste, also known as y/l/n y/n, is the youngest pro hero to be in the top 10, at the young age of 19 she is occupying the #5 spot. she is also known for having a strong dislike for the #2 hero, who responds by irritating her even further, but what even caused her to hate him in the first place?

✯ a/n: phew okay so this is pretty short but it shows just what went down and now it’s hawks’ redemption arc!! also the taglist is full!!!

- you honestly didn’t think this through

- i mean, this was keigo we’re talking about

- why did you let him come over to talk when you knew you weren’t ready to see him

- he was basically dating miruko now, you didn’t understand how you factored into that equation

- was he coming here to tell you how happy he was with her?

- or brag about how much better she was than you?

- because if that was what he was going to do then you weren’t going to HESITATE to kick him where it really hurts

- hopefully he was here to apologize so that you could just get it over with and tell him you forgive him so that he could just l e a v e

- he doesn’t understand boundaries and doesn’t understand that you didn’t want anything to do with him

- sigh

- you didn’t want a repeat of the time where you went on a patrol with him

- “so how are you y/n” he mused as you too watched the city streets bustle underneath your feet

- “i’m fine hawks.” you grumbled as you brought your knees against your chest and rested your arms and head on them

- “what’s wrong dove? you seem,, down”

- “i just didn’t think that they’d make me patrol with you. after what happened between us. i just don’t feel comfortable working with you anymore” you sighed

- “listen y/n,, i’m so-Y/N” hawks gasped as you jumped down the current building you two were on

- you needed to get out of there

- he was coming too close again and you knew that you weren’t going to be able to handle that

- luckily there was a poor young man who seemed to be cornered by 3 buff looking guys who looked like they were up to no good

- “back away from him if you know what’s good for you :)” you declared as you landed right behind them

- before you could even move, all of them with ere already suspended in the air with familiar looking feathers

- you sighed

- who did he think he was getting involved when he KNEW you would be able to handle 3 thugs

- “y/n why’d you jump like that-“ he stammered as he reached to grab your arm but you pulled away from his touch as if you’d been burned

- keigo slowly retracted his arm with a look of hurt etched onto his face

- before you could reach out to him, he already turned his back and started walking towards the direction of the closest police station with the 3 thugs close behind him, still suspended in air

- “i’ll take care of these guys,, uhm,, you can just take that guy home” he murmured, barely looking over his shoulder

- you just nodded and made your way towards the quivering civilian who gladly let you escort him home

- by the time you got to their house, your patrol was already over, and hawks had texted you that the next people on duty had already taken over and that you were free to go home

- and now,, he was on his way to your home

- ready to talk about feelings

- and all that

- yuck

- you were about to go make yourself a cup of green tea to ease your nerves until

- “hey dove,,”

- y/n: hey keigo :)

- also y/n: STUPID FUCKING DINOSAUR!! GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!!!!

- “hey,, you ready to talk?” you cocked your head to the side as you looked at hawks

- man this wasn’t fair at all

- he was here to talk to you about his feelings and here you were, in all your beautiful glory rendering him speechless

- “u-uh yeah i am” he awkwardly chuckled while scratching the back of his head

- “oh, okay then. feel free to sit” you mused as you sat on the white catch situated in the middle of your living room

- “i know i’ve said this a million times, and it’ll never be enough to make up for what i’ve done to you. but i just wanted to say i’m sorry. i wanted to tell you that i apologize for everything” he took a deep breath then continued

- “i’m sorry for ridiculing you online, and telling people that you were less, when you aren’t at all. you’re so much more,, you’re perfect y/n. i’m also sorry for trying to make light of the situation when we both knew that you were hurt”

- he paused to look at your expression but you kept your eyes trained to the spot on the couch behind his head

- “i did all of that because,,—“

- fuck he was so nervous

- he didn’t know how to tell her how much he loved her

- there was no words to explain how he felt

- “i’m in love with you. i’m fucking in love with you kid. i wanna wake up in the morning and see your pretty face snuggling into my chest. i wanna eat breakfast with you, lunch and dinner included. i wanna be there for you, reassure you and take care of you. i ridiculed you because you were too close kid”

- you slowly nodded and looked into his shining gold eyes

- “i know it’s stupid. and that it doesn’t make any sense. but i didn’t wanna bring you any pain, but i ended up doing that anyways. i’m so fucking sorry. dove,,, y/n,, please forgive me. i know that even if you do, it won’t replace the hurt you went through—dove,,” keigo softly exhaled as you threw yourself against his chest and started sobbing

- he cooed at your shaking figure and hugged you even closer to him

- your mind and your body were tired. they were tired of pretending and so were you. you couldn’t hold back anymore

- but that didn’t mean that keigo was going to get it easy

- “we’re okay now. but this doesn’t mean i forgive you. it just means i’m done loathing you. you have to try and earn my trust back.” you mumbled into his chest

- you felt his grip on you tighten even more as his shook while he chuckled

- you peeked up to look at his expression, only to see him peering down at you with a soft gaze in his eyes

- “i won’t let you down y/n. i love you too much to hurt you. and i hope one day you’ll reciprocate my feelings too.” he smiled

- “s-shut up! you’re still not forgiven! but are you hungry?” you questioned as you tried to slip out of his hold

- he laughed and just sat you completely on his lap

- “what do you have in mind baby?”

- god. he was going to be the death of you

- “do you,, want to order fried chicken?” you said as you shyly looked up at him

- “of course dove. you remembered?” “of course i did bird brain, it was all you ever wanted to eat whenever we went on dates-“ you slapped a hand against your mouth

- “you thought of them as dates too huh?” he smirked

-“sHUT UP” you screeched as you whacked a pillow into his stupid handsome face and ran away to order the chicken

-keigo was left on the couch, laying on his back, filled with giddy as you had finally let him back in. to be honest, keigo thought that you’d just kick him out and never talk to him again

-but here he was, laying on your couch while you ordered food in the other room. it was so.. domestic.

-and keigo loved it that way

TAGLIST

@nerdynstoned @myheroheacanons @kpopfan-cpop @breaking-ur-kneecaps @kukiisan @thechloethings @food8me @kittyddandnyla @imuziawi @hawksexual @iwaizumi-chan @procrastinationinawriter @x-a-delama-x @thenerdyrebel l @wisteriaa-js @princessmidas @roxybefab @d-2seoks @wasting-away-on-the-internet @mylovelyreblogs @monviemoo @udontneedtokno @thedamjokes @joeigiarts @kageyamauwu1 @importantknightalienneck @last-three-braincells @chrisrue15 @simixchan @yourlocalkpopandanimenerd @coconutabs @kuroosleftfoot @fern-writes-ig @icy-hot @adriloen @kissmeimnotirish @too-many-fandoms666 @damnirina @mirakeul @neglectedleo @makeyours @fxded-drxms @wthyuta @jooleuuh @peppermintkiddo @babskuroo @chidori-mint @vanillaicebaby @kabispit @blossom-chan

[talesofstyles]

The Law of Attraction

buckle up my little ballsacks you’re in for a treat. this is pure lawyer harry filth. honestly i’ve got no excuse.

massive massive thank you to @smokeinherperfume​ for letting me ramble about lawyer harry 24/7 and @for-fucks-sake-h​ for allllll the knife emojis FGHSHSGSGH ILY 🥺💛

p.s. all of my fics about lawyer harry are standalones so you don’t have to read them in order. but just fyi technically this one happens after Quid Pro Quo. hope you like it! xx

An orgasm crashes through YN’s body, causing her back to arch in her chair and her fingers to tug hard at the hair of the man who’s working his tongue between her legs. It’s half three on a Wednesday, and instead of skimming through stacks of her clients’ contracts trying to find loopholes or go through the first set of Interrogatories once again before she sends it to the opposing counsel later today; she’s got her former-nemesis-turned-best-friend kneeling before her chair, her skirt hiked up around her waist and her knickers haphazardly pulled to the side. She lets out a groan, which only eggs him on, and he lashes his tongue against her even harder.

“Enough,” she mutters weakly, her voice barely audible and she’s not even sure if he even heard it. She pushes his head away from her, but the stubborn sod only swats her hands away while growling and doubles up on his efforts. She can feel him shaking his head as he licks and sucks away, slipping his finger deep inside her the second she closes her eyes and proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm in just under two minutes.

She slaps her hand over her mouth as she reaches her high again, and Harry looks at her with a satisfied smile, before licking his shiny wet lips without breaking eye contact. The sight alone is almost enough to make her want to shove his head back to where it was half a minute ago. “Feel better?”

“Mhm,” she hums happily and Harry’s lips quirk into a gentle smirk. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” he replies as he stands up, before leaning over to button their lips together in a quick kiss.

“I think the pleasure’s all mine, but let’s rectify that,” she mutters as she pulls away. “What do you want? You tell me and I’ll give it to you. Do you want me to get you off slowly or do you want to fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck,” he groans in frustration. “You’re gonna kill me here. I’ve got a deposition in- shit, two minutes. I’ve got to go now. Catch ya later doll.”

She shakes her head, chuckling as she watches him rushing out of her office. “Later, shithead.”

Isn’t it just funny how the universe works sometimes? Six months ago they couldn’t even be in the same room without having a scream-whisper match, but here they are half a year later, happily handing each other orgasms like sweets on Halloween. Harry didn’t even know exactly what was bothering her today. He just sensed that she was in a real mood when he swung by her office, so instead of splitting a packet of KitKats right on the dot at three o’clock like usual, he closed the door and switched on the panel by the door so the transparent glass wall turned translucent to give them privacy, and then he went down on her without saying another word.

The perks of being friends instead of foes with Harry is that she gets to find out that Harry’s oral skills are not limited to advocacy and sarcasm. And not to mention that he’s a very generous man. Sure, it’s not a trait particularly needed in a best friend and colleague, but fuck if that’s not something that is much appreciated. At first, obviously it wasn’t easy for YN to hang the white flag above her head. Her ego was badly bruised when the firm made Harry Senior Partner instead of her in the beginning of the year, making her feel that all the long hours and the all-nighters she’d pulled were all for nothing. She felt like she gave up her social life for nothing, basically put her life on hold for nothing and gave her all to her firm for nothing. She felt unappreciated, and the easiest target to channel all her anger and frustration was Harry. Because come on, who else was she supposed to be mad at? Her boss? It’d be like being mad at Gandhi.

It definitely got much easier when she finally let the resentment go, the fact that he was the one being promoted. Especially knowing well the reason was only because he came from a bigger law firm, and that he came bearing gifts—the gifts being five huge clients from his old firm—when he came into her firm earlier this year. She’s accepted the fact that him being promoted instead of her doesn’t mean that she’s not a damn good lawyer. Hell, she’s got a hundred percent win record to prove that. It was easier to hate him when she didn’t know him, but as they began working on cases together and she got the chance to get to know him more, she knew he deserved it. 

If you ask YN, she’d most likely tell you that having a work husband surely beats having an enemy in the office. She loves having Harry as her best friend, her most trusted legal confidant when she needs to strategise on a case and well, as an occasional lover on a bad day. He is her number one ally and advisor, the person she can laugh with and be stressed with, have politically incorrect conversations with, and give her bone-deep honest opinions to. He supports her and helps her with her cases—not that she needs help because again, she’s one hell of a lawyer, but it’s surely nice to have an extra brain in the case sometimes. 

Fuck, she really does owe Harry a good one tonight for giving her a nice distraction.

A ding sound from her phone brings her back to reality. She darts her eyes at her phone for a second, and she lets out a heavy sigh when she reads the name on the screen. It’s a text to confirm the dinner meeting tonight at The Berkeley, definitely one that she can’t avoid since he’s a huge client, but more importantly, one that she dreads to meet.

You see, there’s a large part of life that we call normalcy. Eat, sleep, take a shower. Wearing underwear inside our clothes instead of outside like Batman and Superman. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. Most people drink coffee in the morning. Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week. 

As pathetic as this may sound, pining for Luke, that said client who also happens to be her ex-boyfriend has been YN’s normalcy for the past two years. Luckily, his company is her client and not the man himself so she got away with keeping contact to a  bare minimum. Meeting him only about two to three times a year and only when it’s absolutely necessary and cannot be handled by his General Counsel. But apparently, his step-father decided to retire and pass his hotel business to him—honestly, as if he’s not bloody minted already—and he needs her now more than ever because even though he knows his way around the business world, this whole thing is a new territory for him. 

This is the second time in a week that he’s arranged a meeting and only God knows how many more meetings with him she could take. Because, as always, his presence means the absence of her sanity. And she hates it.

Welcome to YN’s fucked up life.

***

“I still don’t know why you want me to go with you,” Harry says, turning to look at her when they stop at a red light. Even though it’s dark outside, the neon-blue lights from the interior electronics cast the angles of his face handsomely.

He’s driving both himself and YN to The Berkeley where they’ll be meeting Luke for a dinner meeting to discuss his new business and his plan to merge with another hotel group. Which is an absolutely terrible idea and YN plans to talk him out of it tonight. It’s probably easier said than done though, because she knows Luke and she’s definitely familiar with how stubborn he can be. 

There are a lot of things about Luke that she still remembers. He pretends to hate those mini chocolate muffins but he actually loves them. He drinks his coffee at six thirty sharp every morning, yes, even on the weekends. He loves jogging and sometimes he wishes he’s an athlete so that he can get paid just to run and play football all day long. Even though he’s rich as sin—and God, fit as fuck too—he’s humble and definitely not flashy, so if you see him without his suits, you’d probably never guess that he doesn’t actually need to work a day in his life because he comes from old money. But Luke is different. He never touched his trust fund and he was determined to create his own business from scratch.

He’d just started his business around the same time YN started working in her firm as an associate, so she saw it right before her eyes how hard he worked during those first few years as he nurtured his business. His company was one of the first clients that she’d been assigned to work on, and when she got promoted to Junior Partner, her mentor gave her The White Company as her first official client. The timing couldn’t be more brilliant since she and Luke just broke up two days prior, but she knew there was no way she could turn down such a big business.

Fuck, she’s thinking about him again. She immediately makes a mental note in her head to ask Harry for an extra orgasm tonight to keep him out of her mind. But now she can’t help snickering at the thought because she makes it sounds as if she’s asking for extra ketchup. 

“Cat got your tongue?” He asks and she turns to look at him. He gives her a tiny smirk before his eyes get back on the road, but he reaches his hand out to her bare knee to give her a squeeze. “Still haven’t answered me, doll.”

“Sorry- what did you ask?”

“Why did you want me to go with you?” He asks again. “He wants to merge, right? That’s totally your thing. You don’t need me.”

“You helped me with his crisis a few months ago,” she reminds him. “Just thought we could do his business together again. He’ll be happy he’s getting two partners, the firm will be happy because they can charge double. It’s a win-win, really.”

“Bollocks that,” Harry laughs. “Worst bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

“That’s all, honest,” she feigns innocence.

“Honey, I didn’t go through law school for nothing, did I?” He replies without moving his head, keeping his eyes on the road. “You’re using me as a human condom, aren’t you?”

“What the hell does that even mean?” She drops her jaw in shock at the fact that he calls her out on the carpet just like that.

“You’re afraid you’ll catch feelings again if you’re left alone with him, so you bring me as a shield. Am I right?” He asks her with an accusatory eyebrow raise. “You know what, no need to answer that. Of course I’m right.”

“I told you, he’s just a client now,” she insists, trying to ignore her heart pounding in her chest as Harry’s hand inches its way up her thigh. It’s incredibly arousing, but she also finds it a little disturbing since they’re having a conversation about a man she’s head over heels for. She almost want him to stop but fuck if she’s going to ask him.

“Look, I don’t know exactly what’s going on here,” he says, and it’s really hard for her to concentrate on what he’s saying since he’s squeezing her thigh. His fingers pressing deep into her muscles and she can only wish they’re a few inches higher. “But if in any way you want to get him back, just say the word and I’ll back away, yeah?”

“There’s nothing going on, Harry,” she reassures him. “You’ve got to trust me on this. He’s just a client now.” 

“You sure?” Harry asks again. Turning to look at her briefly before he pulls into a parking space and puts the car in park, but she can tell by the tone in his voice that he doesn’t buy a single thing she’s said.

“I’m sure,” she nods reassuringly.

Harry grins as he reaches up and tweaks her on the nose. “You’re cute when you lie.”

“Shut up, shithead,” she mutters as she pulls on the door handle. It opens and she steps out, taking a moment to smooth down her dress. Leaning back down, she looks inside the car to look at Harry and give him a wink. “Now let’s go. The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can reciprocate.”

***

“You have it bad for him, don’t you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow at her accusingly, not even bothering to wait until Luke disappears past the lift to take a call.

YN blinks in surprise at his accusation, but instead of denying it for the second time tonight, she finally concedes. “Is it that obvious?”

“Holy shit,” this time, it’s Harry’s turn to look at her in surprise. He definitely wasn’t expecting her to admit it, but fuck if he believed that bullshit she told him in the car. “No, it’s not obvious. But I know you better than anyone in this room.”

She chuckles, before taking a swig of her Chardonnay. “True.”

“I meant what I said earlier in the car,” Harry reminds her. “Just say the word and I’ll back away. He’s probably still into you too.”

She just stares at him for a second. She’s obviously contemplating something, he can tell. He braces, wondering if she’ll finally tell him to back away. He has to remind himself to be cool, to just nod and smile if she actually does say that. They’re not exclusive, and as amazing as this last six months has been, he knows all good things come to an end. He has no absolute reason to be upset, he knows that. And as her best friend he only wants the best for her. If she thinks Luke can make her happy, then so be it.

He’s ready for her to tell him to back away. He does. Not saying that he’ll be happy, but he’ll accept it. So imagine his surprise when she gives him a smirk and says, “let’s go all the way tonight.”

Harry’s head shoots up, and he narrows his eyes at her. “You fucking with me?”

“I was hoping you’d be the one doing all the fucking,” she murmurs, still smiling coyly at him and somehow has the audacity to dip her eyes in a completely fake showing of shyness.

Harry’s eight-inch piece of equipment that had been jumping and twitching like an excited puppy now goes to full mast, pushing hard against his zipper. He drains the rest of his drink in one big gulp, not wanting to waste any time. “Stay here and wait for him to finish that sodding call. Make up an excuse for me and distract him while I go and try to get us a room upstairs.”

“You do realise that my flat is literally ten minutes away from here right? And your place is like, what, twenty minutes tops?”

“Upstairs is closer,” he lowers his voice huskily. “They have beds too.”

Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Beds, huh?”

“What? Don’t fancy shaggin’ on a bed?” He says with a smirk, sitting straighter as he smooths his tie. “I’ll see if they’ve got anything with a balcony then.”

“You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?” She mocks, rolling her eyes. “Does the word indecent exposure mean anything to you?”

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“I did,” she challenges him with a spark of defiance in her eyes. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Do that again and you’ll get the palm of my hand,” he tells her ominously.

“You’re all mouth and no trousers, Styles,” she taunts him. 

“Good luck trying to sit tomorrow.”

***

In less than fifteen minutes, YN is standing in a lift with Harry’s lips roaming her neck and his finger sinking deep inside of her.

She didn’t have to make up an excuse when Luke went back to their table after taking the call. Apparently, there was some emergency and he needed to get back to his office as soon as possible for an emergency meeting with the boards. She assured him it was fine and that they could easily arrange another meeting to further talk about his plan to merge with another hotel group.

Harry doesn’t waste much time as he pushes the button to their floor and the doors close. He stalks towards her, cupping her head to bring her mouth to his, and his other hand going directly between her legs. She slips her tongue into his mouth and touches it against his, the vibe of the kiss turning a bit dirty. It’s a thrilling turn on, causing waves of pleasure to pulse through both of them. His tongue ends up dominating hers in the most searing, sexually explosive kiss she’d ever been given.

His hand softly fondles her for a moment, and then he’s inside of her, curling his finger in a way that has her knees buckling. He immediately saves the day by pushing one of his legs in between hers to hold her steady. He knows he doesn’t have time to get her off before they reach their floor, so he breaks the kiss and roams his lips along her neck lightly, moving his finger in and out of her leisurely but so very deeply. Her hips flex against him, trying to demand more, but she’s just going to have to wait.

When the lift starts to slow near their floor, he calmly removes his hand, smoothes her dress down, and gives her a light kiss on the nose.

He’s smiling at her as he closes the door behind them, in a completely relaxed, but thank fuck we’re finally doing this and I’m here to fuck you senseless kind of way, and it manages to show the two dimples he sports on either side of his full lips.

Their lips meet again as he leans in, softly at first, just a taste to whet the appetite. His arms tighten around her, and he increases the pressure, urging her to open up and let him in. He’s a force to be reckoned with in a courtroom, and fuck if she’s not thanking her lucky stars that he’s just the same in the bedroom. He moves his lips against hers, making delicious little thrusts and flicks with his tongue, teasing and tantalising, all while stroking her back in the most incredibly sensual way that makes her tingling from head to toe. 

He loves how she just melts against him when he rubs her back, and how adorably dazed she looks just from a kiss. Grinning at her, he reaches a finger out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. The blood in his dick thumps, eagerly demanding to move things along, but he’s determined to take his time with her. 

Her mouth waters as her hands work at his belt buckle. His cock is thick and hard when she pulls him free of his boxer briefs, and she drops to her knees with her hand wrapped around his girth. It’s standing straight up before her after she releases it for a second, and she melts at the sight. There’s one perfectly thick vein running straight up the middle, but then it veers off at an angle. And although this is certainly not the first time she sees it, she can’t help but cock her head to the side just to see where it goes. 

He palms the side of her head with one hand and holds her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head with the other. Looking up at him, she can see his jaw is locked tight and his chest is rising and falling rapidly.

She squeezes him hard, just the way she knows how he likes, and strokes up and down a few times, making him groan. His head falls back, eyes squeezed shut. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Ssh,” she shushes him before she murmurs low in her throat. “I’ve got you.”

She finally opens her mouth, bares her teeth slightly, and then scrapes them lightly over the tip. A long, deep groan rumbles out of him, his eyes remain shut tight. Exhilaration and victory swells within her, knowing that just that one tiny touch reduced him to utter helplessness. 

He opens his eyes, gazing at her. His voice is thickened and gruff when he says, “you’ve got no idea how beautiful you look while on your knees before me.”

She responds to him by leaning in, and without hesitation taking the tip of him into her mouth, making him groan in relief. He grips her lightly, his fingers pressing into her scalp as a means of holding her steady and not to force action. She licks and sucks, squeezing and stroking him with her hand. He’s watching her from above with lust on his face, and she’s savouring every little groan she drags out of this normally stoic man. She flutters her tongue on the sensitive underside just below the head of his cock, her hand gently squeezing his balls as she works his shaft. 

“Been dying to get that cherry lipstick on my cock,” he mutters softly, she can barely hear him. He grits his teeth as he slowly pulls out of her mouth. “Knew that red lipstick would look good on me.”

Her eyes slide to his cock, and she has no clue what her mouth looks like, but she’s absolutely sure most of her lipstick is gone since it’s smeared beautifully along the length of his shaft. She tries to take it back into her mouth, determined to bring him into completion that way, but his hand immediately covers her, holding her still while his eyes pin her in place. “Wanna be inside you.”

He helps her stand on her feet, and the next thing she knows, her dress pools around her ankle. His hands come to the back of her bra, flicking it open and pulling it from her. Then he drops to his knees before her. Fingers going under her knickers, he pulls them down just enough to gain access and runs his tongue up her centre. 

He had fantasised about her naked before him more times than he could probably admit that he has to blink twice to convince himself that this time is real. And fuck if it isn’t much better than his dreams.

“Bed,” he commands, and she crawls on it with the intent to lay in a sexy pose as she turns over to face him, but he’s on the bed with her, quick as lightning, and flips her to her back.

Her eyes go up to find him staring at her tits, and she can’t help but joke. “They don’t bite, you know.”

His gaze comes up to meet hers, and his lips curve slightly. “But I do. It’s probably going to hurt a little.”

A shudder ripples through her, and her nipples harden. His eyes flick back down to her breasts. She swallows hard at the anticipation, the thought of him getting a little rough with them is thrilling, but there’s something else she wants more right now.

“I’m fucking dying to be inside you right now,” he whispers in her ear. His admission elicits a deep moan to escape from her lips. “Last chance to change your mind, doll.”

“Please just fuck me already,” she whimpers, her hands roaming his body. Every glide of her fingers over his skin fills him with a fullness he’s never experienced before. “I’m losing my mind.”

With one hand pressed into the mattress, Harry uses the other to take his cock in hand. He dips his hips, pressing the tip right into her entrance. Blowing out a breath, he brings his eyes to hers and holds her captive, finally thrusts deeply into her. She screams, not in pain but in pure fucking ecstasy, as he fills her up. Harry bottoms out, his pelvis pressed hard into hers. 

Baring his teeth, he mutters, “fuck… that feels good.”

“Would feel better if you move,” she suggests with a smirk.

Harry stays completely still inside of her. He breathes in deeply, closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them up again, he gives her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid to move. Afraid I might embarrass myself and blow my load in about two nanoseconds.”

She lets out a giggle, pretty sure that’s the one and only time in her life she’s ever done something so girly. Harry laughs huskily and kisses her hard. He doesn’t move an inch from his waist down but just kisses her deeply with thorough possession. When he pulls away, he tentatively circles his hips, grinding into her.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and drops his forehead to hers. “Yeah… definitely not gonna last long.”

Her hands go into his hair and she massages his scalp, incredibly touched and turned on over his reaction to her. She tugs on his hair, pulling his face away from hers. “Harry?”

He moves reluctantly and looks down at her with that same abashed look. She tilts her hips, clenches her internal muscles around his cock, and then rubs her thumbs into his scalp.

“Let go,” she commands him softly. “Fuck me hard and come as fast as you want. We’ve got all night.”

***

Harry’s hand reaches out, tapping the screen on his phone to turn the alarm off, laying silently in the predawn gloom pondering about his situation at this very moment.

There’s a naked, beautiful woman on top of him, and fuck if he can remember when was the last time he woke up with someone else in his bed. It’s not that he’s averse to cuddles; if the woman wants a cuddle with him after sex, he’d give it to them. The act of intimacy like that doesn’t scare him whatsoever. But normally he’d be out of their hair long before the sun is up, leaving them to wake up alone and him to start his day as if the night before didn’t happen.

He always tells himself to forget whoever he shags the night before no matter how great of a fuck she was, although he’ll allow himself to bring forth the memories when he jerks off if needed. 

YN fell asleep a few hours prior, spread-eagled over his body right after she collapsed from the most recent fuck-fest. She came, he came, then she fell forwards onto his chest and was out like a light. And he left her right there all night. Letting her lie on top of him, calling it a day well completed and went to sleep himself.

His hand slides down from her stomach right between her legs, his fingers swiping through her folds which become slicker with desire the more he plays. She softly moans in her sleep and her lower body starts to squirm. Her breathing hitches, and the second she cracks her eyes open, she gives him that happy, sleepy, please fuck me again smile. 

He gently eases her down from the top of his chest to lay beside him, rolling her to the side so her back is facing him. Then he pushes her outer leg up, sliding his body down just a little bit, angling his cock to slip into her from behind. 

Harry moves slowly as he’s spooned around her and she moans in pure bliss as he fills her up. The arm that her head is resting on comes up to curve across her chest and hold her tight. His other hand grips the back of her thigh firmly to pin her in place.

“More,” she whispers on a forced exhalation. 

“Fuck me,” he mumbles against her hair. “My girl wants more.”

And he gives her more. Fucking her exquisitely and with no doubt that neither of them has ever had it that good. He takes her higher and higher, the sweet words that he’s whispering in her ear is the complete opposite of the kinky shit they did last night. 

“Balcony?”

YN didn’t hesitate, following right behind him as he pushed the doors open. A light breeze filters in but it’s still muggy outside. They’re on the seventh floor, and they can still hear the rumble of engines and the honking of horns below them. The quiet darkness of Belgravia stretches out beyond.

Harry walked up to the edge of the balcony, which was made of stone and concrete, sitting about three and a half feet high. He pulled her into his arms and gave her a searing kiss. She moaned, slipping her tongue in his mouth and gripped onto his shoulders. The kiss was deep and wet, and honestly, the best kind of kiss.

He pushed her up against the wall, laying a palm over one breast. Squeezing, plumping, testing the weight in his hand. He rubbed a thumbnail over her nipple, eliciting the softest sigh from her. 

He brought his other hand south. Straight shot, right to her centre. Her head dropped to his shoulder as his fingertips continued to circle and rub against her. Within minutes she had his fingers deep inside her and his thumb working her hard. He wanted nothing more than to just line up and push his way in, but he waited. He waited until he saw her trembling became a little fiercer, her body tensed, and when she sucked in a large gulp of air, he knew that was his cue.

He quickly removed his fingers, bracing his hands on her hips and slammed forward. She took him all the way in and he cursed under his breath as he felt her spasm all around him when she came. For a second he thought about hitting it hard, chasing another orgasm, but then he decided against it, wanting to relish the scenery and listen to the sounds of the city.

“Let’s just quit our jobs and fuck all day,” Harry jokes as he drops her leg back down into place.

“Sounds good to me,” she laughs as she reaches around him, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water on the nightstand, taking a sip before she hands it to him and he finishes it in a couple of long swallows. 

“Thirsty?”

“Starving too,” he replies in a way that doesn’t make her think he wants some bacon and eggs. 

Within seconds, he has her on her back again as he slides down her body, roughly pushing her legs apart. Her hands shoot out, grabbing the sides of his head before he gets the chance to descend even lower. “No.”

“What?”

“Let me get cleaned up first,” she says lamely, pretty sure she’s killed the mood. “I mean… I’m filled with-”

Harry ignores her, cutting her off by dropping his mouth right between her legs and begins sucking. She shrieks from the warm contact, surprised by how sensitive she is, and as he lifts his gaze to hers, he murmurs. “That’s you and me together, and we taste fucking delicious.”

Her body trembles from his words, and through a dry and parched throat she croaks, “then by all means.”

“Thank you,” he says with a wink, then proceeds to bring her to another shattering orgasm that totally wrecks her.

[lemontwst]

crossing the line. ❤️ ace x m!reader

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: in which ace runs his mouth and then gets his cheeks clapped by an mc with immense big dick energy.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: ace trappola x m!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.2k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: non-con to dub-con, revenge/hate sex, mentions of voyeurism, public sex, enemies to lovers, mc has magical devices he definitely should not be having, grim is not present in this particular scene. 

“You don’t even know about the Great Seven?—”

His malicious voice bounces around your skull like thunder, drowning out the rest of the world like you've suddenly plunged into deep, cold water.

“Are you that ignorant?"

Tranquil rage licks at your insides, your stomach twists with nausea and your hands twitch with the impulse to wrap around his neck.

“Maybe you should go back to kindergarden before thinking of coming to this school.”

Don't punch him. You dig half-moons in your palms, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. Your muscles tighten from the strain of holding yourself back, from resisting the urge to punch this idiot's face in and drag him across the boulevard by the hair. Your heart thump thump thumps against your ribcage like it wants to jump out of you. Don't punch him.

"Aww I'm sorry, did I offend you?" The redhead's features morph into an expression of cheap remorse. His hands clutch his chest like he's so heartbroken, then the joke is over and that obnoxious smirk curves his lips once more, "—just kidding. Why don't you go cry about it to your mom? You won't last long in this place if you can’t stand up for yourself.”

Your reach into your pocket and your fingers brush against one of the slips of paper Crowley gave you before you parted. Paralyzers, he called them. They look pretty useless to you — just a bunch of small, fragile talismans cut from some yellowed paper, but according to Crowley, these things can subdue weaker magical beings for a limited amount of time. The headmaster gave them to you predicting that you would end up in less than savory situations, being the only ordinary human in a school full of wizards, shapeshifters and God knows what else.

“The immobilizing effect will last for about ten minutes,” Crowley had mused as he handed you the talismans, “Do try to escape the situation before the time runs out, would you? It would reflect poorly on our beloved school if one of our students were to die, after all.”

Escape. You snort, your eyes slowly appraising the other student who is still mouthing off. This place still doesn’t know you’re not one to go down without a fight. You’d much rather cling to the monster that’s tearing you apart, digging your teeth in its flesh even as you bleed out all over the pavement than turn tail and run. The carrion on your skin is a hard enough shield, the rot that stains your soul a powerful balm that turns the sting of your wounds into repugnant adrenaline.

"...Anyways, unlike you I actually have classes to attend to," The redhead throws you one last condescending smirk before turning around and giving you a half-assed wave, "Have fun cleaning the halls, janito—"

The words catch in his throat as you stick the Paralyzer to his vulnerable back, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him not so gently behind the obnoxiously large statues and out of the open street. 

The student rolls a few times across the grassy side of the road, almost crashing into the flowerbeds that fence the statues off, then he finally lands on his back, coughing and spluttering more from the shock of the sudden fall than actual pain.

He quickly tries to hoist himself up, but his arms and legs feel boneless and he falls back down, eyes wide and panicked as a jolt of electricity runs him from head to toe. He tries to get up again, but it seems like the more he struggles, the weaker he becomes. The talisman saps every ounce of his energy in a matter of seconds, leaving him unable to do anything more than lay there, eyes to the sky as he tries to catch his breath.

"What—the fuck—did you do?!" He snaps, his crimson eyes filling with hate when you slowly enter his field of vision, blocking out the sunlight and hovering over him with disinterest written all over your handsome face.

His temples throb with the strain of his thoughts traveling at supersonic speed, his head hurts like he just slammed it against a wall, and the cold look in your eyes makes his stomach twist into tight knots in what he stubbornly decides to be fear—even as his skin starts to heat up like he's been sunburnt the longer you look down at him.

"Oh, you know…" You casually put one foot on his stomach and lean in, ignoring the long, pained gasp that scratches his throat raw, "Just thought I'd teach a cockroach in my path a little lesson. I was thinking of letting you go quietly, but all your whining really got on my fucking nerves." You step off of him and he twitches and coughs, trying and failing to curl into himself for some sort of comfort.

"...Ha...so what, are you just gonna beat me up?" He says, smirking through the pain as if he's used to it. You don't doubt it—his mouth has probably gotten him in trouble plenty of times before—but simply hitting him would be so boring. You kneel between his legs, spreading them apart with ease and his smirk falls, "Hey—what are you doing, you idiot?! Get off me!" You ignore him as he tries to squirm out of your grasp.

"Since you act like a little bitch..." You take his shoes off without untying them and throw them somewhere behind you, then you unbuckle his pants and do the same thing, slightly annoyed with the way he whines and struggles—as if he has any chance of wrestling you off when his body is about as responsive as jello, "I'm going to fuck you like one."

The redhead's breath stutters and he stops moving, looking at you like you just escaped the nearest psych ward, but the sudden flash of crimson that lights up his face and the subtle way his eyes fall to your crotch before quickly focusing back on your face betray just a smudge of confused desire—he's probably seen something like this in porn and he’s relieving it in his mind.

"W-we're in public, you bastard! Are—are you insane?! Get away from—" His brain slams on the brakes and his head empties like it's hyperspace.

A shocked gasp leaves his lips when you bring your index finger to the front of his boxers, lazily drawing a circle over the growing hardness beneath. His stomach clenches, ripples of pleasure seemingly falling from where you're touching him to pool in his belly like molten lava.

His breathing picks up the pace, loud and humid in his ears as his eyes stay on your hand like you've hypnotized him, "...H-hey, s-stop that—this isn't fucking funny—"

"Says you." You hum, stopping your slow circling on his now visible erection to finger the elastic band of his boxers. The intimate touch makes his muscles clench and his head fils with air, "I find the way you're sprawled on the grass with no pants on absolutely hilarious." He makes a sound between a shriek and a gasp when your fingers grab his cock and pull it out of his underwear.

This isn't happening. He looks at his cock standing out in the open with a horrified look on his face.

It's not happening—it's a dream—the thought of other students walking the boulevard and seeing him there, behind the statue of the Queen of Hearts, his erection out and his body unable to move makes bile pool in his mouth—and his dick throb, but he doesn’t have time to consider his fucked up reaction because you suddenly blow on his glans and his entire body spasms, his head hits the grass and his eyes find the clear, blue sky once again. He briefly registers the feeling of his underwear sliding off his legs. This isn't happening.

You ignore his useless protests and start unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders roughly but not quite taking it off -- the contrast of his pale, heaving chest and his flushed face as he lies helpless in front of you with his dick out almost makes you forget how irritated you are with him. Almost. But just because he’s cute doesn’t mean you’re not going to make him pay for daring to talk to you like you’re a piece of garbage on the side of the road.

You envelop his hard shaft with your hand and start pumping, slowly, letting him feel the soft texture of your palm and ignoring his pleas for you to wait. With every stroke his sensitivity increases, the thought of being caught flies away as if someone just blew in his skull and the redhead can only claw at the ground and pull at the grass with jerking fingers as a sweet voice starts spilling out of him.

It's just broken gasps at first, confused, scared and excited in equal measure—and then the world loses focus and it's full blown moans, little sighs that grow in volume the more you manhandle him. His shaft and your fingers become slick with precum and the movements become easier and smoother, the tingles in his crotch fly up his spine and he has to remind himself that this is wrong to keep himself from bucking up into your hand.

Stubborn as he is, he almost succeeds in resisting you. But you know just how to break him, allowing yourself a few seconds to listen to his cute moans while you wet your fingers, saliva dripping down your wrist as you methodically suck on the appendages as if they were the hard, leaking dick in your hand.

When you decide your fingers are wet enough, you bring them down to his ass and spread his cheeks to find that tight hole no one has ever touched before.

His entire body jolts when you start circling it, the sensation completely knew and so unexpected that he momentarily comes back to reality. "Wait—not there!" He tries to raise his head but his willpower leaves him when your middle finger draws a deep semi-circle around the rim.

It feels so fucking weird, he jerks his head this and that way as he tries to focus on the hand on his cock and the finger prodding at his hole at the same time. It's tingly and intense and he doesn't want it, his hot asshole parts under your push, welcoming you in a cavern of velvet, and the gasp that leaves him is the loudest one yet. 

"Relax, you little moron." You stretch him carefully, briefly wondering if he's going to come from your handjob before you even have the time to reach his prostate. He's so fucking tight, unused, pure and yet vulgar as he moans and twitches under your skilled hands.

You insert another finger in and his voice turns high-pitched, then you brush against that little button inside his ass—barely, just the ghost of a touch—and he falls off the edge, convulsing like he's been electrocuted and cumming all over himself.

His semen lands on his chest and jacket and as he slowly comes down from cloud nine, eyes glazed and drool on his chin, he briefly wonders how the fuck he's going to go back to his dorm with cum on his uniform. Then he feels you crawl on top of him and that thought too seems to dissolve into thin air.

No one can blame him for being unable to think, unable to act and, somewhere in the deepest recess of his mind, unwilling to move when you start stroking his sensitive dick again, your hair tickling his chin. He can feel how warm your body is and how nice you smell now that you're so close. If you weren't such a fucking demon it would almost feel nice.

"What's your name?" You exhale next to his ear and he shivers, feeling sick to his stomach when he realizes it's because he wants your lips on him.

"A-Ace…" He mutters, tilting his head away from you as much as he can. The white expanse of his neck is right there and you place a few slow, open-mouthed kisses on his vulnerable skin. Ace's heart does a fucking pirouette, little sparks of pleasure run down his abdomen and he lets out a soft moan, one he wishes he could stuff back in his mouth as soon as he hears it.

He feels the sudden urge to cling to you as he lets you kiss him everywhere. He wonders how it would feel to have your mouth draw a line from his collarbones to his stomach before you take his cock in your mouth and the thought alone makes his entire body tremble with need, little gasps leaving him as you lick the curve of his jaw and then blow on it.

"Ace." You growl his name against his skin and the vibration threatens to destroy the rickety dam that keeps his sanity in place. You're doing something unforgivable to him, fuck, Ace knows it and he hates you for it, but the way you say his name makes him so fucking glad to be born, glad to be lying in the grass like a slut with his pants discarded somewhere and your hand slowly stroking his cock.

"Fuck—don't say it like t-that…" He practically wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut as he focuses on the scorching waves of pleasure that pulse through his abdomen when you chuckle against his skin. This feels so fucking nice, one of his hands reaches down to grab your wrist while you continue to stroke him and he absentmindedly caresses your hand as you pump his cock.

He curses loudly as he takes in the hard curve of your knuckles and the wetness of your fingers. Your touch is different than what he's used to, rough but with a regular rhythm that pushes him closer and closer to his orgasm with every flick of your hand. You lazily nibble at his jaw and he suddenly finds himself overrun by the universally irresistible urge to come. Fuck, he's gonna come so hard in a hand that's not his own—

"S-so—sensitive—fuck, gonna cum all over your fingers—" His other hand grabs your shoulder in a way that almost feels too romantic given the situation, but Ace doesn't give a damn. The only thing that matters right now is your hand jacking him off and the trail of stars that dances behind his eyelids as you shatter his galaxy.

So close—so close—his moans become loud and shameless as he bucks up into you, ignoring how useless his body still feels because right now he really fucking needs to come again. 

The muscles in his abdomen tighten, hot white pleasure flashes in front of his eyes and Ace is so fucking ready when he arches his back, but instead of feeling relief, a tidal wave of frustration and disappointment crashes into his electrified body and his loud voice trails off in a pained whine as you suddenly take your hand off his dick, denying him the sweet mercy of orgasmic bliss.

The disparity between what he’s feeling and what he expected to feel is so vast it takes him a minute to realize what happened, the dam in his head breaks and he’s left gasping and sobbing and twitching, hands flying and grasping at the grass beneath him as he struggles to catch his breath.

"—What the fuck?!" He basically screams, looking at you with teary eyes and a face that screams betrayal, "W-why did you s-stop?! I told you I was close!" His chest heaves and he looks almost possessed when his own hand reaches for his abused, throbbing cock, fully intent on finishing the job one way or another.

You stop him before his fingertips even reach the shaft, meeting no resistance when you pin his hand back against the grass.

Ace glares at you but it's feeble and pathetic, the last remains of his rejection completely snuffed out by the shock of being denied an orgasm for the first time in his life. He doesn't look proud and hateful anymore; he’s now just a brat naked from the waist down, this close to crying because he didn’t get fucked the way he wanted.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you wanted me to stop? Did you change your mind, Ace?” The voice that whispered his name almost lovingly in his ears now drips with venom, almost as if you’re imitating the way he talked to you just a handful of minutes earlier.

Ace flinches, his heart sinks and he looks fucking crushed as he takes in your cold expression. You’re not going to stop, are you—? Not now that he actually wants you to touch him—?

“No...that’s not—I didn’t—” He splutters, flushing up to his ears when he realizes he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Do you want him to beg? Because at this point Ace doesn’t really care enough to even object to that. He just wants you back on top of him. He wants to feel your warmth and have your scent fill his head while you bring him to his release again.

“Dont...be like that...come on,” He groans, letting his head fall to the ground. His dick hurts. His back hurts. Fuck, everything hurts, even his heart for some fucking reason. He doesn't like it when you look at him like you hate him. If anything he should be the one looking at you like that, not the other way around.

"Y-you want me to beg? Is that it?" Ace scoffs and weakly spreads his legs, leaving his cum-stained self complete exposed to your scrutiny. He has the decency to look embarrassed, but when his glazed eyes slowly go from your face to the tent in your pants, what you see in them is not disdain or shame, but pure, unbridled lust.

"You'll beg without me having to ask for it." Ace follows your hand as it goes to your belt, and when you unbuckle it, the soft, erotic click makes his body tremble and his heart flutter.

It's not like he wants to see it—his eyes stay on your crotch as you slowly pull your pants down, revealing the black underwear beneath.

Are you—are you going to pull it out? Out here where everyone can see?—Ace momentarily forgets that he's had his dick out in public for more than it's considered appropriate in every fucking country across the world. Every one of his thoughts comes to an abrupt halt, like he's suffered a concussion.

Except he hasn't, he's just drooling in his mouth at the thought of your cock.

"You don't get to come again, I told you you're going to be fucked like the little bitch you are." You finally pull your dick out, hissing when the air hits your feverish skin and Ace thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust.

The rush of heat that flares beneath his skin is unlike anything he’s ever felt and his slow mind has trouble comprehending whether he suddenly feels on fire because he can see your erection right in front of him or because of the sound you just made. Both. It’s probably both.

“Is that right…” He probably sounds as dazed as he feels—his breath catches in his throat when you lean down again, hovering over him but not quite touching him, the ghost of your breath on his lips threatening to turn him delirious.

You teasingly drag your wet erection across his stomach and Ace moans, his eyes falling shut when your dicks touch. He grinds up against you without thinking and suddenly his body is weightless and he's on the verge of coming all over himself. It feels like every nerve he has is experiencing its own little earthquake, the sound that leaves your lips makes his mind fall apart at the seams and the only thing he can say is a long, desperate "Fuuuck."

His eyes flutter open and he finds you smirking down at him; the sight is so surprising and so beautiful that Ace’s heart lodges straight in his throat.

"Turn around and raise your ass." You chuckle and he goes redder than his hair, but ultimately doesn't protest, waiting for you to give him some space before complying.

The sleeves of his uniform are completely ruined at his point, wet with dew and mud and grass as he pulls himself up on his elbows and gives you an expectant look from over his shoulder. 

What he doesn't expect is to feel your thick fingers push into him again. He almost falls face first into the dirt as he gasps, waist shaking as he's once again wrecked by the feeling of his rim being teased. 

You stretch him more insistently then before, the saliva and cum on your fingers aiding you in your preparations. You try to avoid his prostate, because Ace is already shaking like a leaf and you know how close he is to his climax, but your redhead seems to have had enough of being edged and insistently grinds back into your fingers until you touch that sweet spot inside him that makes his dick leak precum like a faucet. 

He's still not used to it however, and the shock of such an intense stimulation makes his elbows give out as he falls unceremoniously on his face. But he doesn't seem to care, cheek pressed against the grass and eyes squeezed shut as he experiences having his prostate massaged for the first time.

Fuck, he’s sure his legs are going to give out soon too. If just your fingers feel this good, what’s going to happen when you stick your dick in—? Is he going to lose his mind—? Somewhere along the line he seems to have completely forgotten that he's outside in broad daylight with his ass in the air. But even if someone were to see him getting fucked like a slut, would it really be so bad—?

"Hold on tight, stupid," You take your fingers out and he whines softly, sounding surprisingly disappointed for someone who has never had their ass played with before, "I'm gonna make sure you can never come just from touching yourself ever again."

You line your hard cock against his opening and Ace shivers from both anticipation and fear. You’re so big—is—is this gonna hurt? I mean, after everything you've done to him this should be a walk in the park, right—?

It isn't.

You slowly push your dick inside and Ace's first instinct is to scream.

His mind shatters into oblivion as he takes in the feeling of your thick cock stretching him like he's a fucktoy. But this is still nothing, you haven't done anything yet and he's already broken. You pull your hips back and thrust into him hard, your dick scrapes against his prostate and Ace falls into a state of euphoric delirium.

He was made for this, he thinks. Born with the sole purpose of being your slut, ass up and legs spread as he invites you to plow him harder, to mess up his head until your cock is the only thing he can think about. 

And he doesn't even know your name, Ace realizes as his body bounces back and forth against the grass with the force of your thrusts, his tongue lolls out and he tries his best to match your movements with his exhausted body, his hole squeezing your dick like it doesn't want to ever let go.

"Fuuuck—can we do this like…..every day from no—ah!—now on?!" He'll let you do anything you want if you promise to keep fucking him like he's your girlfriend. On his bed in front of his roommates, in class, on the headmaster's desk, anywhere you want him, Ace will be a good bitch for you.

In response to his nonsense you griiind into him and the explosive pleasure that flashes in front of his vision is almost seismic, devastating like nothing he's ever experienced as he breaks and cries and cums all over the grass, eyes rolling back when you roughly grab his hair and thrust a few more times before painting his insides white with your own release.

You make sure to fill him to the brim and Ace doesn't pull away. Instead he remains obediently glued to your crotch as the feeling of hot semen running down his legs completely obliterates his sanity.

Your nasty temper placated for the time being, you pull out in one swift motion and let his boneless body fall to the ground.

Ace groans and curses you under his breath, then he very slowly rolls onto his back, still dazed by the fact that you just came inside him.

If he thought everything hurt before, now he thinks he might actually need to pay a visit to the nurse's office. The effects of the Paralyzer have worn off by now but he's so fucking tired—he startles out of his drunk reverie when something like a curtain falls on his head. 

Except it's not a curtain, but his pants. He takes them off his face and gives you a weak glare as you adjust your belt.

"Wear a skirt next time," You throw him a smirk over your shoulder and Ace hates the way his heart quivers, "Like a good girl."

You barely have the time to dodge the shoe that comes hurtling towards your head, Ace quickly reaching for the other shoe when you start running back towards the school building.

 "Fuck you!—"

[def-initely-soul]

Jungkook, 6th bullet from first link plus "we only have to make it till blah blah 7hours away". Preferably enemies to lovers and he is dressed as a vampire 🤤

hmmm... I see how it is... 👀

pairing: jungkook from bts x reader (f.)

prompts:  we’re in costume and I know exactly who you are but pretend I don’t so I have an excuse to make out with you just once & “We only have to make it until sunrise, which is… 7 hours away.” 

genre: e2l au; murder mystery party au; smut; explicit

warnings: mature language; heavy petting; sexual content

words: 2.4k

.

.

You never should have come to Seokjin’s Halloween party.

You should’ve, you should’ve known he was bound to pull something out of his ass. Besides, that’s what he’s best at. Surprising you with elaborate schemes you never claimed you wanted to be a part of and then being a part of nonetheless.

And now you’re stuck with the one person you’d rather jump off to a tank of piranhas instead of being in the same space as him.

Seokjin, as well, went full-on Halloween mood and prepared an elaborate Murder Mystery party that doubled as an escape room theme as well. Basically, you were supposed to escape the room you were in, together with as many people you were inside with and then use the clues you found to track down the killer.

What Seokjin failed to mention, or deliberately concealed, was that at the time of the announcement, wherever you were, immediately became your personal escape room. So once his announcement over the speakers came to an end, the door to the kitchen where you were currently in, was locked shut, leaving you inside to try and figure out a way out.

And now you’re stuck with Jungkook of all people.

Seriously you’d rather eat rat poison instead of being locked up in a room with him. And that’s a painful death.

Strangely enough, he hasn’t attempted to talk to you for the past fifteen minutes you’ve been locked in here. Usually, he’d try to rile you up with backhanded compliments or straight-up mockery but not tonight. Tonight, he sits at the other side of the room, eyes fleeting over the dark walls and fake cobwebs to hunt for some, any clue. But his gaze never falls on you. Like he’s trying to avoid you or something.

That’s a first.

You sigh with a raise of your shoulders. Yeah, it sucks to be stuck here with him but you should make the best out of the situation and work together if you want to get out. “So, got any idea what to do next?”

Once you speak, the vampire-dressed boy turns to look at you with wide, doe-like eyes. Damn him for looking so adorable in a vampire costume.

Well, it’s not exactly a vampire costume, you guess he couldn’t be bothered enough to buy an actual costume. So instead, he’s dressed in black, leather pants that hug his legs tightly, drawing attention to his thick thighs and his tiny, little, huggable waist. On top, he’s wearing a black shirt with white details and the first three buttons undone, revealing the expanse of his silky smooth looking chest. The audacity of this man! As if he’s not hot enough to have girls dying at his feet, he also has to tease them mercilessly with just a sliver of skin too!

To top it all off he’s wearing a black, leather jacket and his hair is styled with some kind of gel that makes it look wet all the time as if he just got out of the shower. He wears red contacts to complete the look with just a few droplets of red syrup running down his chin and neck.

You resist the urge to slap yourself back into focus and instead you mentally berate yourself.

Don’t let his hotness sidetrack you!

“I, uh...Honestly, no clue…” he says sheepishly, chuckling softly as he rubs the nape of his neck awkwardly. Your eyes widen just a tad and you find it hard to swallow, staring at what seems to be a shy Jungkook, something you never had the pleasure of seeing before. Until now.

Wait, why on earth is he acting shy in front of you? Is this a trick?

“So, how do you know Seokjin?” he says, attempting small talk and you have to physically stop yourself from staring at him bewildered.

What does he mean “how do you know Seokjin”? He was there when you first met, what the hell is he-.

Oh. He can’t recognize you.

It’s probably the mask.

You came into this party dressed as a fallen angel. Wearing a black, thin-strapped, mini dress, a slightly lighter corset on top, paired with black wings, lace gloves, a black halo and also black mask that covers your eyes. You weren’t really in the mood for putting too much makeup on and the mask was the perfect solution to that.

Hm. That could explain why he’s suddenly acting all shy towards you.

So he doesn’t know who you are? This could be interesting.

“Uh, I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you…” you reply teasingly, a thought popping into your mind and you indulge yourself no matter how ridiculous the idea is.

Your reply has the handsome man across from you do a double-take before a smile takes over his lips. It’s sincere, nor teasing or patronizing, and you admit that when he looks like that he’s completely irresistible.

“Ah, then I suppose same goes with your name…” is his witty remark and it’s your turn to smile.

“I’d like to maintain an aura of mystery around me…” you respond, not capable of hiding the loop-sided smile on your lips, as he smiles back.

“Ah, the epitome of a perfect guest.”

“I only try my best.”

A comfortable silence stretches between the two of you as you stare at each other with curious eyes. Jungkook bites his lip in thought and your eyes follow the movement to rest on his soft-looking lips. God, you swear you’d almost-.

“What about your name?” you say instead, trying to chase away any indecent thought.

Jungkook’s smile turns into a smirk as a teasing glint takes over his eyes. “Ah, allow me to maintain an aura of mystery around me as well as you so well put it,” he responds, resting his torso on the wall behind him and crossing his hands over his chest. The muscles ripple with the movement, arms and biceps bulging against the fabric and his chest puffs up to reveal more skin behind his shirt.

You lick your lips unconsciously, not realizing you’re doing it until Jungkook’s smirk turns deadly and you turn your gaze elsewhere to regain somewhat of your bearings.

“So…” Jungkook tries to get your attention again and once your eyes are back at him, he looks satisfied. “Do you have any clue what to do next?”

You laugh out loud at that. “Sorry, all my brain cells have been effectively fried off by the entirety of Seokjin’s dad jokes,” you joke and roaring laughter comes out of Jungkook as he throws his head back, revealing the expanse of his neck in all his glory.

Shit, is he doing this on purpose? Is he deliberately torturing you with peaks of his skin and muscles?

“What do you propose we do now? We only have to make it until sunrise, which is… 7 hours away,” he comments, recalling the rules of the game. The only way to get out is to find the missing clues. Otherwise, the doors unlock once the game has ended or until sunrise as Jungkook said.

A wild, incredible idea makes itself known and you bite your lip guiltily.

Should you? You shouldn’t.

But Jungkook’s looking at you like you’re dessert. Like he wants to strip you off your clothes and devour you whole. Normally you’d never get such a reaction no matter how hard you try.

And the truth is yes. You did try.

When are you gonna have this chance again?

So you push yourself off the wall. “I have an idea…” you whisper slowly, letting your hair fall on top of your naked collarbones as you take a step forward. Jungkook’s eyes widen for just a millisecond but nothing else betrays his thoughts at the moment. Except maybe his tight grip on his chest as he struggles to not make a move yet. You watch with interest as his muscles strain beneath his clothes as he keeps himself back. His eyes though remain glued on you, following your every move, every swing of your hips as they trail down your body in appreciation.

You find a certain level of confidence as you near him.

“...And what is that…?” he replies, almost breathless and finally you realize how fast he’s breathing, chest rising and falling with every breath. His nostrils flare up, taking in your sweet perfume and he almost leans in. Almost.

You resist the urge to tease him. Instead, an innocent look takes over your eyes as you finally stand in front of him. The heat of his body engulfs you, standing so close to you and yet you don’t dare to touch him yet. But with one swipe of your hand, you could feel his biceps, you could trace the muscles of his abdomen, the expanse of his chest, let your nails graze his neck or scratch his thighs.

Instead, with his eyes glued to you, you do something.

You gather the red syrup trickling down his neck on your finger. You let it trickle down your digit as you feel Jungkook’s erratic pulse beneath your skin and as you look at him through your eyelashes, you push your finger in your mouth to lick the red liquid.

Not once taking your eyes away from his.

Jungkook stares at you with heavy exhales, heart beating almost out of his chest as he curses softly under his breath.

Then his palms press against your hips to push you closer. Your body collides with his own, hard muscles meeting supple skin and his lips fall on yours.

A moan breaks free from your mouth, lips moving immediately against him, trying to get a taste of him. He lingers on your tongue, sucking your bottom lip between his own with a roughness you’ve never experienced before. It almost crosses to neediness and the thought has wetness pooling in your underwear.

Your hands fly to grasp at his hair, grabbing at his locks roughly and a high-pitched moan escapes his lips.

You can’t help but curse at the sound, feeling like music in your ears, diving immediately back into his lips as you press him hard against the wall. His palms land on your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh and you roll your hips against him in appreciation.

“Fuck, you’ll be the death of me…” he whispers mysteriously before he dives into the skin of your neck. He leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collarbones alternating between bites and suckling bruises into your skin and another moan rolls of your tongue as you press him more and more against you. As if you want him to mold into you, to fill every empty space and press against your skin until there’s an imprint of him there.

His leg wedges between your own to press his thigh against your mound and you cry out loud once his movements bring delicate friction to your clit.

“Shit, don’t stop…” you mutter softly, grasping tightly at his hair to press him more into your skin.

His big palms knead the flesh of your ass, driving your hips to move more against his thigh, sending electrifying pleasure to your clit, feeling as if your knees are about to give out.

“Fuck, fuck, flex your thigh…” you order him and he’s quick to oblige, flexing his muscles and pressing his thigh more against you. Quickly he turns you around, pressing you against the wall, trapping you between the cold concrete and his warm body.

Your hips begin moving on their own, soft rushed breaths escaping you as you chase your pleasure. Making Jungkook picture how you’d ride his cock, the filthy notion filling every crevice of his mind, his grip tightening on your ass and with another curse, showing how affected he is, his lips return to devour your own.

You moan out loud, hands falling on his shoulders to steady yourself, to get better leverage to move more confidently against him. But then one hand begins moving down, pressing roughly against his neck, dragging your nails down his chest and abdomen. Before your fingers dive into his pants to wrap roughly around his clothed cock.

He cries out loud, head falling on your shoulder as he struggles to breathe, hips moving immediately against your palm as both of you move to reach after your high.

You move your fingers slowly against his length at first, dragging the fabric across his velvety skin. A wet spot forms on the fabric near his tip and you press your thumb on it, a hiss tumbling from his tongue in response.

“Fuck, Y/N, do it again, fuck!”

And you almost do, as the sound of your name falling from his lips arouses you more.

But then your eyes fly open as you realize he’s not supposed to know that.

“What?” you say immediately, hand leaving his cock to push him back to stare into his widened eyes. Still, you don’t push him completely off of you so Jungkook takes this as a good sign.

Though his mouth opens and closes with no words coming out as he realizes he fucked up.

“I, uh…” he stutters, trying to find something to say with not very much success.

“You knew who I was?” you demand with wide eyes and stern voice and Jungkook would be lying if he said that didn’t make him a little bit harder.

Damn it, he needs to focus for a second and stop thinking with his dick.

“I…” he takes a breath before a heavy sigh escapes him, deciding to come clean. “Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but if I said anything you would’ve fought with me instead…” he says guiltily and you almost go into panic mode thinking what he must’ve thought when he realised you were also into him.

But then you collect yourself. You’re both fully-functioning adults (although the “fully” part is debatable), now knowing that both of you are into each other. There’s no need for acting humiliated and panicked.

You both know what you want.

You huff a stray hair out of your face. “And you think I won’t fight with you now?” you say sternly and Jungkook swallows nervously, but judging by the tent in his pants that thing swirling in his eyes isn’t only fear.

You push him down to his knees as you rest one leg over his shoulder with a heavy, domineering gaze and Jungkook’s eyes widen as he licks his lips in anticipation.

A wicked smirk takes over your lips and your eyes gleam with lust.

“Get your mouth ready, baby boy. It’s time for your punishment.”

[pixielix]

୭̥⋆*｡ royal christmas!au felix

pairing: prince!felix + gn journalist!reader genre: fluff, slight enemies-to-lovers word count: 1.7k warnings: none ― @districtninewriters​’ winter fic exchange for the lovely @freckledberries​

a/n: hey jules :] i’m so happy i could write this for u. ur someone who’s been so sweet to me since the very start, i’m so grateful for u !! i hope u have a merry christmas n happy holidays <3 love, angie

it’s infuriating that the prince still looks as good as he does in the world’s ugliest christmas sweater

he meanders through a crowd of thousands carrying a subtle air of grace that catches everyone’s eye and the kind of exuberant warmth that holds their attention

it feels like every movement he makes is filled with an intention to charm 

one example is his habit of pushing back his hair after he bows

fingers weaving back through strands of strawberry blonde that gently frame his freckled cheeks

even you can’t deny he’s almost enchanting to watch

but it doesn’t make it any less excruciating that you’re being paid a mediocre wage to watch him smile and shake hands for hours on end

you don’t hate the prince, or anyone from the royal family really, but you hoped that your first assignment as a real journalist would be something that you’re actually passionate about

and unlike everyone else in the country, you really couldn’t care less about the royals

the feeling’s somewhat mutual

it’s a well-known fact that the royals are ‘indifferent’ to journalists

they say if the king had his way, he’d have banned every news outlet in the country years ago

maybe that’s why felix’s eyes shift to the opposite direction whenever he sees someone with a camera and a bright red press lanyard

so naturally, when you catch him trying to escape his own guards and make an early escape from the winter parade, his first instinct is to put on a charming smile and try to slither his way out of the situation

“your highness?” you find him straddling a wooden fence at the back of the park just as you’re stepping away from the crowded parade to get some air

his lips stretch into a bashful grin, avoiding your eyes as he swings one leg back over the fence and lands on both feet in front of you

“hey uh.. how did you know it was me?”

“the sweater” you point a finger at the the tinsel-covered, burgundy fabric still visible under the hem of his hoodie, unintentionally grimacing at the sight of it

“oh… is it that bad?”

“to be honest, it’s the ugliest thing i’ve ever seen. uh- no offense-” you blurt out, eyebrows knit together apologetically as soon as you realise you just insulted the prince

“none taken” he breathes a soft chuckle, “thank you for your honesty”

you both stand there in a stalemate for a few seconds, feet shuffling awkwardly in the snow as you carefully consider what comes next

felix’s eyes grow increasingly troubled as he realises how screwed he is if you rat him out to the guards, or worse, to the media

as desperate as he was to get away from the crowds and have the day to himself, ‘runaway prince’ wouldn’t be a good look

meanwhile, you have the thrilling realisation that if the prince were to somehow slip away, there’d be no need for you to stick around

sure you’d come back to the boss empty-handed, but at least you could save him and yourself from many more brain-numbing hours of smiling and shaking hands

“go.”

“what?”

“i won’t tell anyone, i promise” you assure him

“really? why should i trust you?” felix quirks his brow in suspicion as he leans back against the fence with arms crossed over his chest

“cause i want to get out of here just as badly as you do”

both of your heads whip around at the sound of footsteps approaching

“go.” you repeat firmly in a hushed tone

before he can argue, a group of his guards falls into view

“your highness, please, come back! just one more question!” you yell, but in the complete opposite direction of the park, diverting their attention and giving felix enough time to jump the fence and hide in the bushes

he peeks out and you turn back towards him with a relieved smile

“merry christmas” you mouth

all he can do is return the smile, watching speechlessly as you turn and walk away

the next time you’re assigned coverage of the prince’s activities is at the annual christmas eve performance of the nutcracker

once again, you find yourself watching from a distance as the prince captivates the crowd

taking the time to greet each of the young performers dressed as snowflakes and dewdrops with an enthusiastic high five

the lights dim as the performance starts and you use it as your chance to take a break from the noise

it doesn’t take long for you to notice a familiar young man in a hoodie walking slowly behind you down the empty corridor

“i’m supposed to be the one following you, you know”

“sorry i didn’t mean to- well i did but i-” felix stutters, frozen in place as you turn towards him

“i’m kidding. can i help you?” you smile with your head tilted and your hand on your hip

he scratches his neck, scrambling to remember the reason why he’d been looking for you in the first place

“um- oh! i uh- i didn’t get to thank you last time”

“for what?”

“helping me escape the parade”

“oh”, you smile and felix can swear he feels his heart start to tremble, “it’s no big deal”

“no really, you saved me, thank you” he bows deeply, only realising how overly courtly he’s being when he catches you stifling a laugh

“sorry” he blushes, “habit.”

without missing a beat, he threads his fingers back through soft tresses of blonde hair and you watch them fall perfectly over his handsome features

he’s even more enchanting up close

a few seconds pass as you both ponder the absurdity of a friendship between a prince and a journalist

but felix breaks the silence with the exact suggestion that you’ve been waiting for

“i’ve seen this performance of the nutcracker about twenty times before so i wasn’t really thinking of sticking around. did you want to…?”

“absolutely” you nod firmly and his eyes light up like stars

you tug the press lanyard from your neck as he holds open the exit door for you

“after you” he grins

“thank you, your highness-”

“felix.”

“thank you, felix”

as you get to know felix on a spontaneous trip to the outskirts of the city, it seems like everything you thought about him was wrong

the warmth and sweetness of his persona as the nation’s beloved ‘fairy prince’ is completely real

and despite only being the second-in-line, he still feels a strong sense of responsibility towards the country, especially to inspire and empower young people

seeing the way his face lights up in excitement when he gushes about all of the organisations that he’s taken up an ambassadorship with, you can’t help but start to admire him

he opens up to you about the struggles of growing up in the public eye and the media storms that almost tore his family apart

it’s no wonder that when felix invites you as his guest to the royal family’s christmas ball, it causes quite a stir

“no journalist has stepped foot inside the palace in the last fifty years, felix” you repeat, pacing frantically in your bedroom as he tries to calm you down over the phone

“you’re not coming as a journalist, you’re coming as my guest.”

“i can’t even dance!”

“i’ll teach you. you know i’ll look out for you, don’t you?”

“i know it’s just- are you sure about this? about me being there?”

“it has to be you.”

you can almost hear the smile in his voice, warm and reassuring

“okay… only if you’re sure”

“i’m sure. a hundred and one percent.”

the whole interior of the palace is more rustic and homely than you’d expected

and the music is lively, so are the laughs

his sisters are the most beautiful, sweetest girls you’ve ever met and your heart instantly feels warm in their presence

along with the hospitality of his parents (besides the occasional side-eye you get from the king)

in a conversation with one of his sisters, who speaks as fondly about felix as everyone else seems to, she mentions hearing about you

“my brother is an affectionate person, but i’ve never seen him gush about anyone as much as he has about you” she beams

flustered, you look over at him, only to find him looking straight back your way

leaning back against a wall with a glass in his hand, almost oblivious to the group of people that are circling him and instead fully focused on you

he hands his drink to one of his friends and proceeds to slowly walk away

but not before tilting his head and giving you a mischievous look that you immediately know the meaning of

let’s get out of here

“this is nothing like i imagined” you breathe shakily, following felix down the stairs as he leads you out of the ballroom

“what were you expecting?”

“chandeliers, statues, maybe a dragon” you laugh

“i wish” he sighs playfully as he nudges open a door to the outdoor courtyard

felix hurries a few steps ahead so that he can extend his hand to you as you step out onto the glacial footpath

but he ends up almost slipping over his own feet in the process, so you interlace arms and cling to each other for dear life

“ah-!” you stifle a squeal, instinctively tightening your grip on the sleeves of his flowy white dress shirt with every step you take

you glide around each other on the frosted concrete for a few seconds trying to regain your balance

“hey look, we’re sort of dancing” felix chuckles, twirling you under his arm with ease as you gently fall forwards and laugh against his chest

“i don’t think this counts”

“then let me teach you properly like i promised”

light snow continues to fall as you find your rhythm, guided by the soft echo of people clapping along to a lively acoustic beat inside the palace

“am i doing this right?” you ask softly as you watch your feet while carefully mirror his steps

“yeah” he whispers against your hair, warm breath tickling your ear, “you’re doing it perfectly”

the distant roaring of crowds indicates that it’s come to that part of the night where the royal family gives their christmas address to the public at the front of the palace

but felix just continues to hold you close, humming blissfully as if to drown out the noise

“i think the whole world’s waiting for you out there...”

he pulls away, just for a second, and looks at you with those doey brown eyes that seem to hold the expanse of the entire sky on the clearest winter night

“the world can wait”

m.list

[robotslenderman]

Sascha! :3

:DDD

SPECIAL INTEREST TIME, BITCHES

How I feel about this character

I used to not give a shit but then you sucked me into them how dare you

They are baby

Mass murdering horrible torturer baby

They've... been through a hell of a lot of trauma and have to process it. They were stuck in that trauma for centuries. Now Ilias is apparently back but he died in their arms, they saw him turn to ash and they have to be dealing with the trauma of that, too.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Ilias cel Frumos, Beckett (but like in a snarky enemies to lovers kind of way), and ofc my own OCs Rose and Nastasya. Wasn't sure about Nastasya/Sascha for a while but suddenly something seemed to click the other night and I think they'd actually work very well together -- their personalities complement each other, I think. Ilias is warm to Sascha's cold, extroverted to Sascha's introvert, but Nastasya is playful to Sascha's seriousness, joyful to their solemnity, vibrant to their reserved nature.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Even before Rose became a romantic partner I shipped the two of them nonromantically too.

Also I like the idea of Sascha being a tsundere Vitriolic Best Buds with Beckett.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think that they would have responded far, far worse to the appearance of Elias Athanasios than I see fandom talk about (sorry, Ry XD). Like, not even as bad as I've mentioned before -- way worse.

(SORRY RY I'M HAVING A SPECIAL INTEREST MOMENT)

To start: there is no way in hell they're not dealing with hella trauma after the Dracon. That everyone agrees on, but lemme go into detail:

Like imagine not just seeing your lover die in your arms but being unable to really process it because your consciousness just got smooshed with someone else's, with someone who's mourning his own lovers and didn't really care about yours. Oh, and that person's a suicidal but also sadistic psychopath.

So you spend a few centuries torturing people, shit you wouldn't have done before except in extreme circumstances (if at all) and quite enjoying it, and then --

And then you get separated from the part of you that was okay with it because oh, it was actually the other guy who was cool with that stuff, and you were trapped with the brain of the guy who enjoyed everything you did and you felt everything he did as you did it and thought you wanted it, thought you enjoyed it, thought it was you who decided it, but because you were so enmeshed you don't know that you DIDN'T, maybe it WAS you, can you really blame the Dracon?

And maybe it was really you who made those decisions, because after that long fused together... sure, you're separated physically.

But are you really?

You've been together for centuries. After that long you can't have known where one of you began and the other ended, and it must have influenced your true personality. I mean, stick people in a room of people different to them and they adapt their personality and beliefs pretty quickly, like weeks to months, without outside influence.

Like, how much fucking worse would that be if you were actually stuck inside their head, for CENTURIES???

You're apart now, but in a sense you'll always be together.

Stick the both of you in a room and you'd probably talk like a pair of Creepy Twins. You'll finish each other's sentences because you'll both be on the same wavelength, you'll have the same idiosyncratic habits -- scratching your nose with the same finger of the same hand, tilting your head the same way when you think somebody's being annoyingly obtuse, tapping your fingers the same way on the desk when you're thinking.

You've been intertwined for so long that you probably have the same impulses now, the same thoughts, with only the most foundational aspects to the both of you separating you -- the Dracon's still got his sadism, and Sascha is still introverted, so that'll influence subtle differences.

But it'll be buried under seven hundred years of habits you developed together, opinions and thoughts and aversions and passions you developed together, working in sync for every second of existence, dreaming the same dreams, moving the same hands and fingers, doing the same deeds.

You were a gestalt. Are you no longer one just because you're apart? Are you really separated when you were one for so long? Are you even two people any more, or are you just one person with two bodies, now?

It's going to take decades to bring yourself back to a functional level after the identity crisis that causes, and that's not even counting the trauma of the Eldest, or the Dracon's trauma that you remember just as vividly as if it were your own, or the trauma of what Symeon did to you.

You will probably never, ever recover.

There's traumatic events people went through that follow them for decades that only happened over a few hours at most.

How can you come back from seven hundred years?

In a way, it would have been emotionally better for them to have stayed fused to the Dracon forever. At least they would have thought they were themself, then. At least they were used to it. At least they didn't have a conscience. At least they didn't feel as used because half of them was doing the using, if initially unwillingly. They were one; there was no conflict, just two people so in sync they may as well have been one.

Then to add insult to injury, right after the Dracon's pulled from you, a guy identical to the lover you witnessed die in your arms shows up trying to get your attention. That timing is suspicious AF, and any hope Sascha might have had of coming to terms with Ilias's death on their own time comes crashing down as this redhead just casually waltzes on in and just mashes Sascha's trauma buttons by existing, by looking just like him and acting like him and sounding like him and having the same interests as him and and and --

And now half of them is gone. But also -- not gone, never going, never leaving, who are they now? They're missing half of themself but also probably feeling like they'll never be their real self again. Were they ever really Sascha, when that was a name they took on side by side with the Dracon? But how can they be Myca when Myca is seven hundred years away, when he died the moment Ilias did?

Maybe it was Myca who died in his lover's arms, not the other way around.

I think on the outside Sascha would pretend to be furious at Elias Athanasios for posing as their lover, for having the gall to pose as someone they saw turn to ash, but deep down?

I think they're fucking terrified of him.

Because of the traumatic memories he brings back. Because he knows so much about Ilias and Sascha can't figure out who he "really" is and what his true motivations are.

Because after everything Symeon did, after everything the Dracon and the Eldest did, after the evidence in front of Sascha's eyes that Ilias was dead, dead, dead, how can they not be terrified that this isn't another attempt to manipulate them and put them at the complete and utter mercy of another Methuselah or Elder or worse for another few centuries, when they were only JUST set free?

Their nights as the Angel of Caine are done. They've been manipulated so long and now there's someone else using the person that they loved the most as bait to draw them out. Someone they know for certain did not survive. For their own survival, they can't do anything but disappear because given the forces that has had power over them before, they can't take any risks with this one. Sascha keeps trying to find out who he really is and if he's working for someone, what his angle is, but this time their brilliance is getting them nowhere and they cannot find a single scrap of a clue who Elias Athanasios really is, because all evidence points to him being the real thing but he can't be because THEY SAW HIM DIE.

And here Athanasios is, continuing to try to lure them out.

He's convinced Beckett, one of the smartest people Sascha knows, that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Rose that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Sascha's dumbass Vykosovich descendants that he's the real deal -- particularly the descendant that's their biographer, the descendant whose made it her life's work to know everything there is to know about Sascha Vykos. And Athanasios has direct access to her.

He's getting closer and closer to Sascha.

The walls are closing in again.

So, my unpopular opinion?

Sascha Vykos is the most terrified they've ever been in their existence.

(Second opinion, which I don't know if it's unpopular or not, but -- since they used their deadname for centuries before changing it I reckon they'd actually be pretty fine with Ilias still calling them Myca. But, you know, only Ilias, and anyone else gets turned inside out. Not even Rose would get that privilege.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Not exactly answering the question but I am dreading the release of the V5 Sabbat book because I'm so scared they're going to completely ignore what BJD did with Sascha and go back to making them a villain.

Also worried that Sascha's canonically followed the Beckoning. I reckon they'd nope the fuck out of it after what happened in BJD. Something strange trying to manipulate them again? Fuck no.

[generallynerdy]

Allowing the thought to stay the trigger, the heart to register its trembling (Grey/Depa Billaba ft. Caleb Dume)

Summary: “I’m not worth it,” Grey hisses through their teeth. “Please. Depa, please—” Their general, their Jedi, only shakes her head, her grip on their shoulders a death sentence. “I will not leave you,” she says. “Fight the voice, Grey. Fight it.” They sob and some part of their brain burns with the knowledge that little brown eyes are watching from the corner of the room. They scream, pulling against their bonds and the twisting darkness in their head. “I can’t. I can’t—” Something that isn’t Grey crawls under their skin and it speaks, twisted, Dark. “Traitors.”

Warnings: Mind Control, Violent Thoughts, Serious Injuries, Blood and Violence, Eye Trauma (not graphic but described briefly), Vomiting (in like one sentence, emetophobia gang rise up), Angst Word Count: 2,275

Prompt: Angstpril Day 3 - “I can’t.”

Author’s Note: more suffering! Yay! I like to think this ended happily but this is Angstpril so I’m not writing it lol. Also, I discovered that Kanan’s eyes aren’t actually brown, at least according to Wookieepedia but frankly that’s stupid as fuck so. Brown-eyed Kanan. And nonbinary Grey because I am apparently not the only one who loves that concept! (Also, sorry for late posting! I was unable to finish this last night :/ hopefully I can finish day 4 today as well and catch up)

Read on AO3

*

Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

Good soldiers follow orders.

It's an endless loop in the back of their mind, an itch they can't quite scratch. At the Order, it breaks free and turns to a screech, a ringing thought that echoes in their head so loudly it hurts. They don't even feel themselves pulling the trigger, shouting for their squad to follow.

But when they finally come to, underneath the monster that's stolen their face, it's because they're standing over him.

Caleb. 

Commander Caleb Dume. Jedi Padawan. Traitor.

Ad'ika, their heart cries as they lift their blaster. Their shaking hands have it levelled at the boy's face, right between his big brown, tear-filled eyes.

"Grey—Grey, what are you doing? What—?" His pleading words are nearly unintelligible between his panting breaths. When the cold metal touches his face, he sobs. “Don’t! Buir, don’t—don’t—please—”

Their cheeks are wet. Caleb sees it and only sobs harder, afraid to move for fear that they’ll pull the trigger. With their trembling hands, the likelihood of a misfire is high.

Inside their mind, Grey screams. They claw at the walls of their mental prison, leaving their fingertips bloodied and their throat hoarse from their agonizing howls. The cell won’t budge. The chip won’t give. They can’t get out. They can’t save their son.

But someone else can.

A robed figure flies out of nowhere, tackling Grey to the ground and sending their blasters into the air with a flick of their hand.

“Caleb, the blasters!”

Depa.

General Depa Billaba. Jedi High General. Traitor.

Depa. She hates it when I call her General.

She pins them to the ground and presses the calloused pads of her fingers against their temple. Something like grief crosses her face. “Sleep, Grey. Sleep.”

The chip fights, but they don’t. They like to think it helps bring the darkness faster.

*

“Master?”

Caleb’s voice trembles when he asks, taking a hesitant step forward. Depa is still on top of Grey, catching her breath and making sure they’re passed out. She shuts her eyes tightly, centering her conflicted presence. Her Padawan needs her and so does Grey. This is no time to grieve for the rest of their battalion.

(She tried to incapacitate rather than kill, but they’re still gone. The light that she used to associate with them has been snuffed out by a strangling darkness that burns.)

“It’s alright, Caleb, they’re unconscious,” she says, mustering what little strength she has left.

At her word, he rushes over, clinging to the sleeve of her robe.

Any other day, he’d be indignantly distant, trying to prove himself on the battlefield and make Depa proud. But right now he reeks of terror and uncertainty. And she feels the same.

Execute Order 66, the Chancellor had said.

And then everything had gone to hell. The clones had disappeared, replaced by darkness, and the Master-Padawan pair had barely made it out with their lives. Depa hasn’t even been able to process the wave of lights being snuffed out in the Force and she knows her Padawan hasn’t either; his connection with the Force feels brittle and broken. The Jedi are dying at the hands of their closest companions, at the order of the Chancellor of the Republic, and the two of them stand in the center of it all.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” she admits quietly. She climbs off Grey and binds them with their own set of binders, something tight in her chest as she does. Then, she turns back to Caleb. “Are you alright? No injuries?”

He shakes his head and wipes at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve. “Just scrapes.” He glances at Grey. “That—That wasn’t Buir, was it? It felt...wrong.”

“Very wrong,” she agrees. “I don’t know what it was, but the Chancellor triggered it. We need to get off the planet.”

“Are we...going back to the Temple?”

Depa visibly hesitates. His face falls and he knows in his heart that they aren’t. Even if they did, there would probably be nothing and no one left.

“It isn’t safe. We need to lay low for a while and figure out how to save Grey,” she tells him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Caleb, look at me.”

He does and she smiles a little.

Even now, in what must be the worst moment of his short life, he’s ready to listen. He’s ready to do what he needs to.

She kneels down to meet his height, holding his head in her capable hands. “You will survive this,” she says like it’s a promise. She can’t say the same of her or Grey or anyone else they know, but she can promise that Caleb will live. Because she will die to see it through. “You will. Do you understand?”

Despite the fear in his eyes, he nods.

“Good.”

Depa allows herself a moment to breathe, but no longer.

“Now, we need a way out of here.”

*

Grey wakes to the buzzing of a ship and panics. The last they remember, they were on the surface of the planet, with Depa and Caleb and- oh, Force. Oh, fuck.

Did they attack them? Did they hold a gun to Caleb's head?

Their own is throbbing, something clearly wrong. Chills go down their spine as they sit up, finding their wrists held together by their own binders. They're on the floor of a cargo bay, in an unfamiliar ship, but familiar voices echo from down the hall.

"Master, they're awake!" calls Caleb after poking his head in.

He may not be showing it, or trying not to, but Grey can see the fear in his furrowed eyebrows.

He's afraid of them.

They feel nauseous at the realisation.

"Caleb—" they try to say. Their voice is hoarse.

Depa appears from the hall, a glass of water in her hand. She crosses to Grey, motioning for her Padawan to stay by the door, which he does without question. Kneeling before her commander, her lover, she examines their face. They can feel her prodding at them gently in the Force. She's trying to decide whether they're friend or foe right now.

“Are you with us, Grey?”

They hesitate, but eventually nod. “I think so.”

With a small smile, Depa helps them drink the water, but pulls it away quickly when it’s finished. She’s cautious and rightfully so, Grey thinks when they feel something in their head tug.

They must visibly flinch, because so does Caleb.

“Tell me what’s happening,” their general murmurs, putting a hand on their knee.

Shutting their eyes fiercely, they take a long moment to answer. “It’s—It’s hard to fight. It wants me to...to kill the trai-traitors,” they gasp out, finding the unknown force stronger when they speak that word. They open their eyes, horrified. “Shit.”

“You’re alright.” She takes their hand and starts tracing patterns. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”

“No, but...kark, my head hurts. My head. I think.”

“Stay still,” she warns.

She runs a hand up their temple, her eyes shut in concentration. The Force prods gently at their mind and, when it finds the offending area, something burns. Grey cries out and Depa stops in an instant, pulling back with a fearful look.

“There’s—” Glancing back at her Padawan, she takes a steadying breath. “I believe there’s something in your head that doesn’t belong, Grey. Something physical, but it’s very dark in the Force.”

“Can we get it out?” Caleb asks, his voice smaller than he is, which is saying something.

She stands, frowning. “I don’t know. I’ll set a course for—”

Grey’s face twists as the thing inside their head roars to life. “Don’t—” they manage to growl out.

There’s a lot they can’t explain to Depa in that moment. For one thing, they’d like to tell her that if the Chancellor activated the thing in their brain, he might very well be able to track them or hear their conversations through it. For another, it’s quite possible that if Dark Grey—yes, they’re calling the evil thing in their head by that now—overtakes Light Grey—Cody would be rolling on the floor now. Is Cody alive? Is his general alive?—they might just straight up contact the enemy.

Even though they can’t explain all that, their beloved Depa Billaba stops instantly, her eyes shining with understanding.

“—somewhere we can lay low and find a doctor,” she finishes instead.

Dark Grey shoves, pushes for more information. It stabs at Grey, a physical pain that makes them hiss. Out of their control, they speak.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

It makes Depa frown. She examines their face, watching as it shifts into something so unlike them it’s sickening.

“Good soldiers follow orders,” they snap again, like a mantra.

Dark Grey does not appreciate their plan.

Grey finally gets a hold of themself, dragging themself into consciousness with a heavy breath. When they look up at Depa, their gaze is determined.

“You need to leave me.”

“No!” cries Caleb fiercely.

Depa holds up a hand. “Caleb,” she warns, a reminder to mind his emotions.

He falls silent, watching his Master and his buir with something akin to horrified bafflement. Force, Grey has never seen him so openly terrified. Ever since he joined their little family, he’s been nothing but brave.

“I’m a liability and a threat,” they say, turning their attention back to Depa. “It’ll be easier to go without me.”

“We won’t leave you behind.”

They frown at her, lowering their voice. “He can’t die because of me.”

She doesn’t dare glance at Caleb, doesn’t dare give their worries away to the boy, who already has the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. “It won’t come down to that.”

“And neither can you,” they add firmly. 

Depa’s expression tells them all they need to know. That’s one thing she can’t promise.

“He needs you.”

She huffs a rueful laugh. “So do you.”

If they could, they’d reach out to hold the back of her neck and keep her close.

Hold her neck and break it.

Grey flinches back. “No—”

“Tell me what it’s saying,” she encourages, reaching for them.

An agonizing pain rips through their skull, eliciting a scream. Despite the binders on their wrists, they claw at their scalp. The thought crosses Depa’s mind that she should stop them, but she doesn’t get the chance.

They drop their hands and gaze up at her with tearful eyes.

“I’m not worth it,” Grey hisses through their teeth. “Please. Depa, please—” 

Their general, their Jedi, only shakes her head, her grip on their shoulders a death sentence. “I will not leave you,” she says. “Fight the voice, Grey. Fight it.” 

They sob and some part of their brain burns with the knowledge that little brown eyes are watching from the corner of the room. They scream, pulling against their bonds and the twisting darkness in their head. “I can’t. I can’t—” 

Something that isn’t Grey crawls under their skin and it speaks, twisted, Dark. 

“Traitors.”

They lurch forward. Depa thinks they’re collapsing, but Dark Grey has other plans. They involve the vibroblade tucked into her boot, which is now in reach.

She never liked weapons that weren’t kyber-powered, lightsabers and lightsaber rifles in particular, but after a Separatist assassin nearly suffocated Grey right next to her, she became paranoid. Working through her fear was difficult, so her partner thought having a weapon under her pillow might put her at ease. For the most part, it worked. No one knew of its existence except Grey and she preferred it that way.

And now, CC-10/994 turns that trust against her.

With a fierce yell, he barrels into the Jedi traitor, ripping the vibroblade from its hiding place as she goes flying.

“Master!”

Before the other traitor can react, CC-10/994 flips the first over his shoulder, slamming her into the wall. Then, he flies at the smaller target, vibroblade tightly grasped.

The Jedi yelps and ducks his flurry of blows.

“Grey, snap out of it!” he says desperately.

CC-10/994 doesn’t flinch and leaps forward again.

“Buir! Buir, it’s me, Caleb!”

A single slash of the vibroblade has the traitor shrieking, falling back with an arm over his face. Before CC-10/994 can attack again, the Jedi Padawan throws out a hand, sending him soaring across the room. He slams into the wall with a vicious crack, all the air pushed from his lungs in an instant. For a split second, Grey rises again, ready to fight themself off, but it’s unnecessary.

Depa is there, shoving them into the cargo bay’s cell, ripping the vibroblade away, and locking the door behind them.

Grey collapses inside, gasping for breath and trembling as they stare at their own hands in horror. Blood stains their gloves. The sight makes them nauseous, so they tug the gloves off and throw them to the other side of the cell, desperate to get away.

It’s Caleb’s howl that makes them look up.

Depa is at his side in an instant but not fast enough. He pulls his sleeve away from his face and—

Grey throws up that time, into the corner of the cell.

Their blow struck true, slashing Caleb’s face from his right temple to the bridge of his nose. It’s a deep cut, one that goes into his right eye and bleeds profusely. The other eye, untouched, is blinded by tears.

“I can’t see,” he sobs, reaching for his Master, who reaches back. “I can’t—Master, I can’t—”

CC-10/994 lifts his head and smiles.

“Death to the traitors,” he spits. “Glory to the Empire.”

*

(Dark Grey uses he/him because Dark Grey follows orders, including gender assignments.)

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Suga, Atsumu, Akaashi, and Sakusa saving their S/O from traffic

Hey anon! I normally only take 3 characters for headcanon requests, but I decided to just go ahead and do all four this time. Please make sure to read my rules before making requests 😊

Word count: ~2k

AN: I may have gone slightly overboard with Atsumu’s but y’know. This is my first time writing for Sakusa and Suga though! 

part 1: Tsukishima, Kuroo, Osamu saving their S/O from traffic

SUGAWARA

⭐ So, you and Suga have known each other for years 

⭐ After all, you were Asahi’s younger sister

⭐ Both Suga and Daichi were very familiar with you

⭐ It was not surprise that after knowing you for so long, Suga caught feels

⭐ Suga liked that you had the same gentle temperament as your brother BUT you weren’t as “cowardly”

⭐ He enjoyed whenever you let loose and indulged in your wild side

⭐ Of course, the only people in the group who realised Suga had a crush were Kiyoko and Daichi

⭐ You and Asahi were hella oblivious I swear LMAO

⭐ Anyways, eventually Asahi catches Daichi and Suga talking and he’s like OMG SUGA HAS A THING FOR (NAME)???

⭐ But at the end of the day, he’s like, well Suga’s a nice guy

⭐ Of course, you and your brother were super close too!

⭐ Later that night, you end up accidentally confiding in your brother that you also had a thing for Suga

⭐ Leading to Asahi confessing for Suga that very moment

⭐ The next day at school, you go out of your way to avoid Suga because omg my crush LIKES ME BACK?!

⭐ Suga’s super sad and is like, why are they doing this?

⭐ Asahi’s awkwardly scratching his neck and is like, I may have said something

⭐ SO, Suga finds you at your house later that night, asks you out, and you’ve been dating ever since

⭐ At the time of the incident !

⭐ You join the rest of the third-years in going to the shrine for new years

⭐ By now, you and Suga have already been going strong for over a year

⭐ As you reach the bottom of the steps, a biker is speeding past

⭐ They all react simultaneously

⭐ Asahi is frozen, his heart is beating so loud he swears everyone could hear it

⭐ Daichi is lunging forward, ready to use his defensive volleyball skills to do something (though idk what would have helped in this situation)

⭐ Kiyoko’s eyes are wide

⭐ But Suga!! man is moving at lightning speed

⭐ Like he is on a MISSION and that is to protect the love of his life!

⭐ He grabs you by the waist, hoisting you back up onto the steps and pressing you against him

⭐ You blink, confused until you hear the biker ringing his bell, shouting apologies as he speeds along the path

⭐ “Y’know, that would’ve sucked to start the new year off like that” you chuckle, looking up at Suga

⭐ He chuckles too, nodding as he brushes your hair back

⭐ Pulling you up, y’all face the third years as they unfreeze and make their way towards you

⭐ (Name)!” -Asahi

⭐ “Suga!” -Daichi

⭐ “Are you guys okay?” -the goddess Kiyoko

⭐ After breathing a sigh of relief, Asahi’s doing that little clap thing he does when Nishinoya receives his serves in the commercial break

⭐ Asahi’s giving him that look that says “i owe you everything. you have saved her life. i give you my permission to marry her”

⭐ Suga’s just laughing and is like “i would’ve done that with or without your permission 💝 ”

ATSUMU

⭐ Honestly, this was an enemies-to-lovers, slow-burn situation

⭐ You were in the same friend groups after playing at the club together as children

⭐ He was hella STINGY! he did not like that you were a setter AND that Osamu would ask you to set for him sometimes out of spite

⭐ Anyways, that rivalry continued up until high-school

⭐ Unfortunately, right before high-school starts, you suffer from a critical injury and had to quit volleyball

⭐ Atsumu felt bad about it

⭐ Like though he saw you as a rival, it just wasn’t fair that you had to quit so early

⭐ SO! He offers you the next best thing

⭐ Being his manager!

⭐ You laughed in his face the first few times he offered because you’re like, are you just being petty right now?

⭐ But after a while (and after he’s asked you like 20 times) you finally accept the offer

⭐ Now that you guys are no longer rivals, and you’re around each other all the time, Atsumu is like wait a second, you’re kinda attractive

⭐ AND the fact that you talk volleyball to him!

⭐ You were roped into his late practices more often than he’d care to admit

⭐ Of course, as manager (and ex-rival), you’d give him tips on how to improve his serves and setting

⭐ At first, he was kinda salty when you gave him advice and kicked him out of the gym

⭐ But eventually (aka, after Osamu kicked his ass), he realised that you were doing it out of care!

⭐ Thus, he spiraled into full-on affection for you

⭐ On your end, you didn’t really care about Atsumu

⭐ You thought the rivalry was stupid

⭐ And like, the boy bullied you!! Because his twin liked how you set!

⭐ But after you stopped playing, you realised that he was just a dummy who lived-and-breathed volleyball

⭐ Proven by the early mornings and late nights at the gym

⭐ Eventually, his passion sparked something inside of you

⭐ Like although you couldn’t play anymore, it was really nice seeing this passion and it made you care more about the team

⭐ This translated into more hangouts with the team, and eventually Atsumu just hits you up out of nowhere like “we’re always together”

⭐ You: Yes and?

⭐ Atsumu: We might as well date?

⭐ You: LOL! ...sure

⭐ And that’s how y’all start dating!

⭐ AT THE TIME OF THE INCIDENT

⭐ you’re on-campus ridiculously early, waiting for the bus that’ll take you to Tokyo for nationals

⭐ Mid-yawn, you’re complaining about how a POWER HOUSE school has to take the bus all the way there

⭐ “Like, we’re the favorites to win!”

⭐ (you just hate being awake before the sun is)

⭐ The bus is arriving, and you step down off the curb to walk around the bus and start loading your stuf

⭐ Of course, Atsumu is ALSO dead tired and his brain short-circuits, thinking the bus is about to hit you

⭐ SO, he’s sprinting at you, throwing his food onto the ground (osamu is screeching behind him)

⭐ You turn, confused when a muscular body slams into you

⭐ Y’all both tumble down onto the concrete and you’re just like, Atsumu I’m going to kill you

⭐ Osamu is just like, not if I kill him first!

⭐ Atsumu’s just like, but! The bus! Was about to hit you?

⭐ Kita’s face-palming and is just like, the bus literally stopped 30 feet away from them

⭐ Suna’s cackling while he records this mess

⭐ Your boyfriend’s blushing and is just like, “well maybe I just wanted to be a hero for my boo”

⭐ NGL, it would’ve been sweet EXCEPT he crushed the bag of snacks you’d packed so you were pretty peeved

⭐ Leading to a sulking Atsumu

⭐ Once y’all are on the bus, you lean over and give him a kiss

⭐ He short-circuits again. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

⭐ You shake your head, “a little, but I can’t just refuse to give my hero his reward, right?”

⭐ Atsumu’s heart swells and he’s promising himself to always be your hero

AKAASHI

⭐ Alright, so y’all weren’t dating yet!

⭐ Nah, you were just a Fukurodani manager-in-training

⭐ But TBH, Akaashi had the biggest crush on you

⭐ He liked how responsible you were, and how you weren’t really overbearing and obnoxious like the other managers (and his captain but y’know)

⭐ Since he was the vice captain, the other managers trusted him to show you the ropes

⭐ (they’d also noticed the way y’all looked at each other and was tryna make their ship sail!)

⭐ ANYWAYS

⭐ This happens during that first two-weeked Tokyo training camp where Kageyama and Hinata are running late

⭐ SO, Akaashi and you had gone outside to get some fresh air and just to get away from the chaos of the team

⭐ Bokuto and Kuroo were both tryna rope him into some shenanigans, so you benevolently bailed him out and brought him outside to help you fill the bottles

⭐ Cue side-eyes and winks from the other managers to you both

⭐ Just as you’re making small talk, a screeching sound interrupts the conversation

⭐ WHOOP THERE’S SAEKO!

⭐ She barely manages to brake in front of you

⭐ But sweet Akaashi had already pulled you back into him, his back facing the car just in case he wasn’t fast enough

⭐ “Are you ok?” he asks, leaning back to scan your features

⭐ You nod, sheepish

⭐ Akaashi turns back to the driver, eyebrows raised

⭐ Saeko gets out of the car, apologising intensively

⭐ Of course, Hinata literally pukes when he gets out because he’s overwhelmed with everything that’s happened

⭐ Kageyama is like, uhm, can I just go play volleyball now pls?

⭐ After numerous apologies, Akaashi points them towards the gym and spirits you away to a bench

⭐ He keeps giving you water, an unreadable expression on his face

⭐ “Uhm, Akaashi? Are you ok?”

⭐ Akaashi just SIGHS, nodding

⭐ He fixes you with a hard stare, a slight tremour in his voice. “I’m sorry, (Name). I just...I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you”

⭐ You tilt your head. “I mean, I doubt that I would’ve died from that”

⭐ Akaashi chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he slots your fingers together. He squeezes your hand. 

⭐ “Yeah, but my heart would have”

⭐ Y’all both get flusterd as heck!

⭐ Like, was that a CONFESSION?!

⭐ Turning back to ask, you get the answer in the form of him kissing your cheek

⭐ Akaashi short-circuits. You short-circuit. Did that really just happen?!

⭐ “So..does that mean we’re together or..”

⭐ And before Akaashi can respond, the rest of Fukurodani appears!

⭐ They heard what happened from Hinata (who cannot keep his mouth shut I swear)  

⭐ As you’re both swarmed, you peek at Akaashi

⭐ Over the noise, he gives you a small smile, nodding

⭐ Your hearts are warm! Like finally!!

SAKUSA

⭐ TBH, I feel like Sakusa wouldn’t really care to find a partner

⭐ UNLESS, it is someone he grew up with and is very familiar with

⭐ So! Enter, Komori’s best friend

⭐ Sakusa and Komori were always together

⭐ You and Komori were always together

⭐ This made it very easy for you to get close to Sakusa!

⭐ He liked that you respected his space and desire for cleanliness

⭐ You always went out of your way to carry around extra face masks, wipes, and santisier just in case people got too close to him (and you)

⭐ Sakusa wouldn’t have made the first move though

⭐ UNLESS! He realised he was about to lose you

⭐ Which almost happened

⭐ You ended up not hanging out with the duo as much because of a school assignment

⭐ Coincidentally, Sakusa overheard one of his teammates talking about you and the other dude

⭐ The other dude had the biggest crush on you, and was going to ask you out after y’all were finished with the project

⭐ Of course, Sakusa was just like absolutely not

⭐ Right after practice, Sakusa went to go look for you only to find you walknig towards the gym

⭐ “Oh hey Sakusa!”

⭐ “Call me Kiyoomi”

⭐ “Ok Kiyoo- wait what?!” 

⭐ Your eyes went wide

⭐ His heart stuttered, why were you so cute?!

⭐ “I mean, you would call your boyfriend by his first name, right?”

⭐ “B-boyfriend?!?!”

⭐ Komori appears, throwing his arm over your shoulder to Sakusa’s disgust. “I think this is how Sakusa’s tryna confess to you, (Name)”

⭐ Sakusa just nods stiffly, pulling out some wipes 

⭐ Heat sweeps over you as you awkwardly nod, “oh! Sure, Kiyoomi”

⭐ Sakusa was grateful that the mask covered his face because boy was BLUSHING

⭐ SO! At the time of the incident~

⭐ You had gone with Sakusa to the training center for the Tokyo Training Camp

⭐ Komori had already gone without y’all

⭐ You were from around the area, and were going to go visit your family for the week

⭐ (It was also a chance for you to introduce Sakusa to your family after he finished up with the training camp)

⭐ Anyways, you’d just dropped Sakusa off, waving goodbye to him as you turn to walk off

⭐ There was a loud honking noise

⭐ Some dude was trying to park and was being SO RUDE to you as you were walking through the lot

⭐ You turn to face the car, only to have your arm yanked out of its socket as someone leads you away

⭐ “Whah?!”

⭐ Your eyes follow the arm, finding Sakusa on the other end

⭐ “Weren’t you supposed to be warming up?!”

⭐ “You forgot something”

⭐ He finally stops as you reach the sidewalk

⭐ Your brows furrow. “What did I forget?”

⭐ Suddenly pulling his mask down, he presses a kiss to your forehead

⭐ “That”

⭐ Whirling around, Sakusa stalks back to the training center, blushing brightly as he realises what he had done

⭐ Your hand is touching the spot where he’d kissed you, your heart beating fast

⭐ “Holy cr*p” you whisper

⭐ “oh my god” Sakusa mutters

⭐ “Why are you blushing?”

⭐ “Shut up Komori”

general taglist: @scrappydaisies​ @newfriendjen​  @kyomihann

Please contact me if you would like to be a part of my general taglist! 💞 Check out this link for information about my taglists.

[tiffdawg]

Curriculum Vitae: Prologue

Gif: @javier-pena​

curriculum Vitae: noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one's life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 1.8k

Rated: M - rating will go up | Warnings: Period-typical sexism, angst, mild language.

Story Summary: After leaving Colombia and retiring from the DEA, Javier Peña steps into a new role as a university professor. A woman with multiple degrees and more books than you can count, you meet Javier as you similarly struggle with the future of your career. Despite your odds, the two of you find something you need in each other during uncertain times.

A/N: So, the idea of Professor Peña has been on my mind lately (is this because I, myself, am pursing a career in academia? who’s to say ) and this multi-chapter, semi-slowburn, enemies/idiots-colleagues-friends-lovers story is the result. Just in case, I wanted to be clear that this story won’t be about a student-teacher dynamic – I went in a totally different direction. This will be a playful, sexy romance full of dreamy images of our favorite DEA agent turned university professor set against the backdrop of Los Angeles of the 1990s. I also want to note that UCLA is about to take some hits in this story, specifically the sociology department, but it’s just for the plot. I’m a UC alumna myself so mad respect any bruins out there! Anyway, I’ve already fallen in love with this story and I’m so excited to share it with you!

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

... . ...

Prologue

Checking your reflection in a nearby window, you straightened your blouse and mentally prepared yourself to knock on the imposing door in front of you. Your top was sticking to you in all the wrong places, probably from your nerves as much as the dry heat of August in Los Angeles and you really wished the university would be a bit more forthcoming with the air conditioning. The chair of the sociology department usually opted to pass along information via a memo, phone call, or through the office’s shared secretary, the latter being his preferred method. You knew it wasn’t good when he called you personally to ask for a meeting.

Steeling yourself, you rapped your knuckles against the old wooden door and listened for the brusque enter from your boss.

“Good morning, Dr. Campbell,” you announced politely, “You wanted to speak with me?”

“Ah, yes! Please come in.” He gestured to the overstuffed leather chair across from his wide mahogany desk and you sat yourself on the edge of the seat, crossing your legs at your ankles. His spacious office was lined with rows upon rows of well-read books and shelves stocked with awards and accolades. He was an intimidating man on a good day, but this was torture. You watched attentively as he cleared his throat and shuffled a few loose papers around on his desk before finally looking up at you through the thin wire glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, seemingly intent on drawing out the awkward interaction for as long as possible. “I’m afraid I have some rather sour news for you, miss.”

Gritting your teeth, you ignored his gaffe; whether the man never remembered your proper title or just refused to acknowledge it, you’d never know, although you had your suspicions. At that precise moment, it was the rest of his statement that unnerved you.

“I’m sorry to hear that, sir. Concerning what, exactly?” you prompted, hoping he would take the bait and get this over with already. He was a man known for being a bit long-winded. 

“Well, your tenure,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Or lack thereof, pardon my candor.”

… . …

You needed to get off that godforsaken campus.

Hastily unlocking the door to your office, letting it fling open without much concern for the wall behind it, you stomped in with a little less decorum than you usually maintained at work. You threw open your bottom desk drawer and dug out your crossbody purse and large tote, tossing both carelessly onto your desk, and then proceeded to shove a few of the books and notepads strewn about your cramped workspace into your bag. You would work on your lectures for the upcoming quarter at home over the weekend, too upset to stay at the university for a second longer than you absolutely had to.

As you made your exit, the framed degrees you’d proudly hung on your wall caught your eye. You could’ve sworn they were glaring at you, taunting you.

“Useless. All three of you.”

… . …

“You are an exemplary lecturer, instructor, and researcher, and the university is fortunate to have you among our prestigious faculty,” Dr. Campbell droned on, clearly trying to soften the blow.

“However?”

“The department cannot offer you a tenured position at this time.” He rested his forearms on his desk, his bony fingers forming a pointed steeple.

You drew in a deep breath of air and dug your nails into the soft flesh of your palm, sure to leave ugly crescent moons. “I’m not sure I understand, sir,” you ground out. “This is my sixth year as an assistant professor. I was offered this professorship with the understanding that it was a tenure-track position and last year when I was overlooked for tenure, I was well-assured that this year would be different.”

The man across from you sighed again, clearly not enjoying the fact that he had to deal with an angry woman. “I am aware of the situation, lest you forget I was the one who offered you this position in the first place.”

“Then can I ask what’s changed?”

“In all honesty, the matter is out of my hands,” he placated. “This directive is coming from the dean’s office. Beyond our department, the school of social sciences is offering fewer positions this year and diverting funds elsewhere, hopefully, if I may be so bold to suggest, to services beneficial to our rapidly increasing student population.”

It took every ounce of willpower you had not to roll your eyes at his explanation. “And are competent, contented professors not beneficial to our students?”

“Well, the sociology department is being gifted a rather impressive visiting lecturer for the year.”

… . … 

“Beneficial to our students?” Beverly scoffed into her end of the receiver. If there was anyone in the world you could count on to be even angrier for you than yourself, it was her. Not only was she your best friend in Los Angeles – actually, at this point, probably the world – but she worked in student services and understood university politics even better than you did. “God, I can’t believe that pretentious asshole had the gall to say that to you.”

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled, precariously cradling the phone to your ear with a shoulder as you set the timer on your microwave oven. 

“And I’m still shocked that they’re doing this to you again,” she continued, “The department promised you tenure. Literally, promised. I remember you telling me word for word what was said at that meeting last fall.”

“Oh, don’t worry so do I.” You sniffed at a second container of leftovers, making a face when you decided the crispy tofu and Chinese broccoli hadn’t survived a few days in the fridge nearly as well as the veggie curry. “I think I etched that conversation into my brain because some part of me knew this was going to happen.” You resealed the container and moved to throw it away, only making it halfway across your kitchen before the phone cord pulled taut and nearly drugged you backwards. “Shit, hold on.”

You picked up the receiver just as your microwave beeped and you were fairly certain Beverly was laughing at you. She’d been on enough calls where you actually did overextend yourself and drop the phone to know exactly what had happened. 

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Sulk, probably.”

“Nah, that doesn’t sound like you,” she challenged. “I’ve worked at that university for nearly a decade and to this day you’re one of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated professors I’ve ever met.”

“Bev-”

“No! Scratch that. One of the most determined, hard-working, dedicated people I’ve ever met anywhere in my entire life.”

You chuckled as you stirred the remnants of your red curry and jasmine rice. “What would I ever do without you?”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” she scolded, “But that’s alright because I’m going to tell you what you’re going to do.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” you quipped.

“I’m going to ignore the sarcasm, this time, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You knew not to argue when she was using her mom voice on you.

“Now, listen carefully. You’re going to throw yourself into your work, as you are so prone to doing, and make this your best year yet. I’m talking professor-of-the-decade worthy.”

“I don’t think that’s a real thing,” you said with a laugh.

“You know what I mean! And I’m not finished so stop interrupting me.” She paused to make sure you were done being cheeky. “You’re going to make this your best goddamn year of teaching, research, mentorship, and whatever else it is you do, and if they don’t offer you tenure at the end of it, you’re going to remember your worth and then go where that’ll be appreciated. UCLA be damned.”

You were quiet for a long moment as you considered your words. They pulled at something hidden inside of you and were simultaneously encouraging and deeply uncomfortable. “I can’t just-”

“You can. You’re free to do whatever you need to do for yourself, and you should. There’s nothing tying you here. No family, no kids, no tenure-track, that’s for sure.” You swallowed around a lump forming in your throat and ran a hand over your face. “You still there, sweetie?”

“Yeah,” you said, switching the receiver to your other ear. “Yeah, and you’re right. I know you’re right.” 

“Of course I am.” You could practically see the grin on her face. “If they don’t have the money to make you an associate professor, at the very least, then you should go somewhere that will.”

“That’s the best part. I’m pretty sure they do. The department is bringing in a new visiting lecturer so you can’t tell me they don’t have some discretionary funds.” 

“Really? Who?”

You moaned. “One of the guys who brought down Pablo Escobar. It’s a fucking publicity stunt.”

“Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.” There was a crash on the other end of the line followed by an ear-piercing shriek. “I’m really sorry babe, but I gotta go. Henry’s going to be home soon and I’m making dinner and the baby’s crying and I think the other two are trying to kill each other. Again.”

“Oh, no. Go take care of your family. I’m sorry I called – I didn’t realize how late it was.” 

“No, I’m so glad you did. I was worried when you didn’t show up at our usual spot for lunch today. Anyway, I’m sure this will all work out in the end somehow. I’ll see you Monday.”

You hung up the landline, silencing the dial tone. You scanned your empty apartment, your eyes dancing between the random stacks of books, your cluttered dual-purpose kitchen table/worktop, and your makeshift bedroom partially partitioned from the rest of the studio. You exhaled and skewered a few rapidly cooling vegetables onto your fork as you thought over Beverly’s words. Your whole life fit inside these four walls. There wasn’t anything tying you down besides your hope that your hard work would finally be rewarded. While that should’ve been reassuring, it just tore at your already broken heart.

This couldn’t be all there was for you.

Something had to change.

 A spunky bark pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. “Is it dinner time for you too, Sunny?”

A second bark and a wagging tail confirmed your suspicion.

Well, at least you weren’t entirely on your own.

... . ...

Thanks for reading! 💕

... . ...

Tag List: @leo-moon​ @readsalot73​