#who else wants to blend him into a fine paste and spread him on some sourdough bread

[bugsjewce]

we deserved to see him in all his maroon suited glory. we were fucking robbed.

this is for @papershipghosts love u pookie <33

[gyutoes]

- Fading Into Silence -

Chapter 1 : Unspoken Goodbyes

For nine straight years, I’ve shared a classroom with him. In elementary school, he was the quiet kid, the one who blended into the background. I barely paid attention to him back then; my world was filled with other friendships and distractions. But everything changed when we entered middle school. Suddenly, he emerged from his shell, and I started to notice him more.

By high school, our paths crossed in a way that felt serendipitous. We ended up in the same class, and things became infinitely more fun. We laughed together, shared secrets, and supported each other through everything. I found myself rooting for him every time he dipped his toes into new relationships, cheering him on like a loyal fan.

Somewhere along the way, I discovered a strange passion: taking pictures of him. Whether he was cracking a joke, focused on a task, or just being himself, I snapped away, posting those moments on social media without a second thought. I enjoyed capturing his essence, but I didn’t realize how much I cherished those memories until much later.

Now, as I approached my final year of high school, something shifted. A few months before graduation, I caught myself staring at him during class, lost in thoughts that made my heart race. It was ridiculous, I told myself. I couldn’t possibly have fallen for him after all these years. Yet, as the days passed, the feelings only intensified, and I had to admit—I was wrong to think I could ignore them.

It is illegal to catch feelings for a person you’ve been friends with for almost a decade.

ツ

Days turned into weeks, and despite my best efforts to create some distance, he kept sticking his nose in my business.

“Are you okay?” he would ask, concern etched on his face. It made me want to scream. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

All of our classmates thought he liked me. Personally, I hated that. It felt like he was playing with my heart, even if he didn’t know it. Every time he smiled at me, my stomach would twist into knots, a confusing mix of affection and frustration.

He’s a gentleman, I’ll give him that. He never made fun of my insecurities. When the others joked about my awkwardness, he’d stand there, unyielding, a silent shield. He’d shoot them a look that could silence a room, and it made my heart flutter despite my efforts to ignore it.

But there’s a fine line between friendship and something more, and I didn’t want to cross it. It felt risky, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing one misstep could lead to a fall. So I tried to convince myself that I didn’t feel anything more than friendship. That we were just two people navigating the chaos of high school together.

Yet, each time he reached for my hand to guide me through a crowd, or when he laughed at my jokes even when no one else did, it became harder to ignore the warmth spreading in my chest. How could I have developed feelings for someone who was supposed to be my safe space?

I wished I could rewind the years and reset the friendship before it got complicated. But there was no going back. Instead, I found myself caught in a tug-of-war between my heart and my head, each day feeling like a battle I wasn’t sure I could win.

“Let’s hang out this weekend,” he said, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. I hesitated, knowing that spending more time together would only blur the lines further. But I nodded, the word “sure” slipping past my lips.

As I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something I wasn’t ready for.

During those weeks, he kept asking me about my crush, probing like a curious detective.

“So, what’s he like?” he’d say, his eyebrows raised with feigned interest. I tried to dodge the topic every time, giving vague answers and changing the subject.

His persistence was infuriating. “Come on, just tell me! Describe him!” It felt like a game, one where I was supposed to spill secrets while he stood there with a smirk on his face.

I wanted to shout, “It’s not about him! It’s about you!” but instead, I smiled tightly and deflected.

But what really got on my nerves was how he sneaked behind me to read my chats with friends. I’d catch him glancing at my screen when he thought I wasn’t looking, a look of curiosity in his eyes. It was like he believed I was texting my crush instead of discussing school assignments or weekend plans.

“Are you chatting with him right now?” he asked one afternoon, his voice laced with an edge of jealousy that I didn’t want to acknowledge. I rolled my eyes, feeling a mix of irritation and something else, something warmer that I pushed down.

“ Just my friends,” I replied curtly, unable to keep the annoyance from my tone. But the more he asked, the more I felt like I was on trial, defending a case that didn’t exist.

“Right. Your friends,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. It was as if he was trying to unravel a mystery, and I was the puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

With each question, my resolve weakened. I could see the concern behind his playful facade, but it only made things more complicated. Why was he so invested in my love life? Was it because he cared—or was there something deeper he was trying to hide?

As I spent more time with him, the lines blurred further, and I found myself wishing he would just stop asking. I was tired of pretending my feelings didn’t exist, tired of the tangled mess of emotions that surrounded us. But every time he looked at me with those big, earnest eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he felt something too, even if he never admitted it.

And therein lay the problem: my heart was caught between friendship and something more, and I didn’t know how to untangle it.

At some point, I just wanted to give up. The pressure of my final exams loomed over me like a storm cloud, and I knew I needed to focus. But having him in my heart made studying feel impossible.

I tried everything to distract myself. Every night, I set my alarm for 3 a.m., determined to study in the quiet hours when the world was still. I thought the solitude would help clear my mind. But as I logged into Discord, my heart sank. There he was, online, his little green dot shining like a beacon, listening to my favorite song.

I didn’t blame him for it; we had always shared a similar taste in music. It was one of the many things that had drawn me to him over the years. But seeing him there, immersed in the same melody that echoed in my own ears, made my chest ache. I could picture him, headphones on, eyes closed, lost in the rhythm.

Every note felt like a reminder of how intertwined our lives had become, and I couldn’t shake the urge to reach out. But I held back, knowing that if I did, I’d be diving headfirst into emotions I was trying so desperately to suppress.

Instead, I tried to refocus on my notes, but the words blurred as thoughts of him invaded my mind. How was I supposed to concentrate when all I could think about was the way he smiled, the kindness in his voice, and the countless little moments we had shared?

I sighed, putting my head in my hands. It was ridiculous to feel this way, especially now, when everything felt so important. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape him or the feelings that came with it.

As I scrolled through our chat history, I was struck by how many times we’d laughed and shared our dreams. Each message reminded me of our connection, a bond that felt both comforting and terrifying. I wanted to push him out of my mind, but the truth was, I didn’t want to lose what we had.

So I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried to drown everything out with the music. Maybe if I let the rhythm wash over me, I could find a moment of peace. But with every beat, I felt a little more lost, caught between the need to study and the undeniable pull of my heart.

I just couldn’t forget the way he treated me. He used to drag his chair across the classroom just to sit next to me, making a scene that our classmates couldn’t help but notice. Even the teacher raised an eyebrow, smirking at our apparent bond. Not gonna lie, I felt a rush of shyness every time he did that. The simple act made my heart race in ways I didn’t understand.

He was always there, leaning in to explain concepts whenever I struggled to keep up with the teacher. His voice was warm and patient, and I found myself hanging on every word not just because I wanted to understand the material, but because he was beside me. How could I possibly focus when all I could do was stare at his face, utterly mesmerized by the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke?

Every time he smiled at me, it felt like the room brightened. I’d get lost in those moments, wondering if he could see how much his kindness affected me. I should have been paying attention to the lesson, but instead, my mind drifted to thoughts of what it would be like if he knew how I felt. Would it ruin our friendship? Would he even feel the same?

But there he was, explaining things like it was the most natural thing in the world, his voice blending with the sound of my heart racing. I’d try to take notes, but my hands trembled, and I often ended up doodling little sketches of him instead.

The classroom felt like a bubble where it was just the two of us, and everything else faded into the background. It was confusing, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once. I wanted to tell him how much his presence meant to me, but the words never came. Instead, I remained silent, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that left me dizzy.

I knew I had to focus on my studies, especially with finals approaching, but he made it impossible to think straight. Every glance, every laugh we shared was a reminder of the connection I cherished, even if I was too scared to name it. How could something so beautiful feel so complicated?

ツ

One day, I was buried in my notes at my table while everyone else went to grab their lunch. The classroom felt unusually quiet, and then I heard the unmistakable sound of someone sitting across from me. It was him. Just the two of us, alone in the classroom. My heart raced as if it could burst right out of my chest. If only he could hear it pounding, he’d know how much he affected me. Butterflies swirled in my stomach, colliding like they were in a frenzy.

He flashed me that easy smile, the one that made my insides turn to jelly. I felt like I could jump from the building with the energy surging through me. Excitement and panic rolled into one.

“Need some help?” he asked, pulling out his notebook. My breath hitched. I nodded, trying to play it cool, but my mind was a chaotic mess. He began explaining the math problems I kept fumbling with, patient as ever. I stumbled through the same mistakes again and again, and instead of showing frustration, he just laughed softly and went over everything once more.

“How can you be so calm?” I blurted out, feeling both embarrassed and grateful.

“It’s just math,” he replied, his tone light. “You’ll get it.”

But I couldn’t focus. His presence was like a magnet, pulling my attention away from the equations in front of me. I tried to avoid his gaze, feeling heat rise to my cheeks every time our eyes met. The way he leaned forward, his hair falling into his eyes as he explained, made it even harder to concentrate.

Every laugh we shared and every word he spoke only intensified my feelings. I was trapped in a whirlwind of admiration, struggling to keep my composure. Each time I glanced at him, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t quite grasp.

“See? Just like this,” he said, pointing at the board, his voice soothing. I wished I could freeze that moment in time, but instead, I scribbled down notes without really understanding. All I could think was how much I wanted to tell him the truth about what I felt.

But with him sitting there, looking so effortlessly amazing, the words got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t risk ruining what we had, even as my heart screamed otherwise.

But just as the moment between us felt perfect, it was shattered by the loud bang of the door. Our classmates flooded in, chattering and laughing, quickly filling the space around us. They took their seats at my table and immediately turned to him, peppering him with math questions.

I felt my stomach twist in knots. The intimate bubble we had created burst, and I could feel the warmth of embarrassment creeping up my neck. Their presence felt like a spotlight, and I was suddenly very aware of how I had been staring at him, lost in my own world.

“Can you explain this problem to me?” one of them asked, leaning over his shoulder. I could see him trying to juggle the attention, his focus shifting away from me. It was like watching my own secret slip away, and I couldn’t bear it.

I needed an escape. “Uh, I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, not waiting for a response. I hurried out of the classroom and practically ran to the bathroom, hoping the cool, tiled walls would help me collect my thoughts.

Inside, I leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths. The reality of what had just happened crashed over me. I was frustrated not just by the interruption, but by how easily I let my feelings overwhelm me. I splashed water on my face, trying to cool down my racing heart.

Why did I have to feel this way? Why couldn’t I just be normal? All I wanted was to enjoy our friendship without these chaotic emotions spiraling out of control.

After a moment, I steadied myself and looked in the mirror. “Get it together,” I whispered, wiping my cheeks dry. I couldn’t let this crush ruin my last year of high school. I took a deep breath and walked back to the classroom, determined to keep things light, even if it felt impossible.

When I reached our classroom door, I froze. There he was, laughing with a girl who was sitting in my seat. She leaned in, her laughter bright and infectious, and my heart sank. It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. The sight of them together was like a punch to the gut, and I suddenly felt very small.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to walk over. I grabbed my books from the table, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt, as I maneuvered around her to take my usual spot.

I slid into the chair next to my friend, trying to distract myself with small talk. But I couldn’t shake the image of him and the girl from my mind. They seemed so comfortable together, and it twisted something inside me.

“Are you okay?” my friend whispered, sensing my distraction. I nodded, forcing a smile, but inside, I felt like I was battling a storm of emotions.

From my new seat, I could still see them. He was animated, gesturing as he spoke, and she was hanging on his every word. A twinge of jealousy flared within me, mixed with the familiar ache of longing. I wanted to be the one sharing those laughs, the one he turned to with that warm, inviting smile.

I tried to focus on the lesson, but every time I caught a glimpse of him, my thoughts spiraled. What if this girl liked him? What if he liked her? The questions swirled in my mind, drowning out the teacher’s voice.

As I tried to concentrate, I could hear snippets of their conversation and she was asking about a math problem, and he was explaining it with that same patient tone. I felt a pang of regret, wishing I had said something before it felt too late.

I wanted to shout that I was here, that I mattered too. But instead, I sat quietly, the weight of unspoken feelings pressing heavily on my chest. The classroom felt more crowded than ever, and I couldn’t escape the gnawing sense that something precious was slipping away from me.

I completely ignored him after that. It was my defense mechanism—if I couldn’t have what I wanted, then I’d shut it all out. I buried myself in my books, forcing my attention on anything but him. I didn’t want to feel the sting of jealousy or the longing that tugged at my heart whenever I caught sight of him laughing with the girl.

Every time he called my name or tried to make eye contact, I turned away, pretending to be engrossed in my notes or the lecture. It hurt to see him trying to reach out, but I couldn’t bear the thought of facing those feelings.

I started to distance myself from him. It was math class, but we weren’t in our usual spot. He sat at the back with his friends, and I told myself I could survive without him beside me. I talked to everyone around me, but I didn’t acknowledge him—not once. Not even a single glance shared between us, though I couldn’t help but steal quick looks whenever he turned away.

Not a single word passed between us that day, and with each tick of the clock, it felt like a weight was pressing down on my chest. The absence of our usual banter was deafening, and I felt like I was suffocating in silence. This time, he sat behind me instead of next to me, and I could sense his presence even without looking.

During class, my friends nudged me to pass him a note. In a moment of frustration, I shot back with a cold, “Just give it yourself.” I didn’t mean to sound harsh, but the words slipped out, and I could see the surprise in their eyes. I knew he definitely heard me, and the guilt twisted in my stomach.

As the day dragged on, I felt increasingly isolated. I couldn’t focus at all. My mind spiraled with thoughts of him, memories flooding back of how easy it had been to be around him before.

By the end of the day, I was the last to leave the classroom when he called my name. I turned around to see him holding my earphones, which his friend had hidden. My heart sank. It felt like a lifeline being thrown to me, but I was too wrapped up in my own turmoil to appreciate it.

Without looking him in the eye, I reached out and grabbed the earphone from his hand, trying to walk away. But he called me again, asking about the mirrors we had discussed in class. I gave him the shortest answer I could muster, barely a whisper: “Later.”

As soon as I stepped out of the classroom, my heart ached. I couldn’t shake the feeling of regret that washed over me. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I was the one who had let my feelings spiral out of control; I was the one who had fallen in love. It felt like a mistake from day one.

Tears started to fall as I walked down the hall, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. I hated that I was pushing him away, but the fear of what admitting my feelings would mean felt insurmountable. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when inside, I was breaking apart.

The next day, he didn’t come to school. I stared at the empty seat beside me, a gnawing sense of unease creeping in. He had never missed a day before, and it felt like something was off. As the minutes dragged on, I found myself asking his friends about him, half-hoping they’d say he was just late.

But when they told me he was sick, my stomach dropped. “He’s definitely making this up,” I replied with a laugh, trying to brush it off, but the annoyance in my voice masked the worry that was bubbling beneath the surface.

“No, he’s really sick,” one of them said seriously. “We told him not to come, but he insisted. He said he felt like he was about to faint yesterday. We were really worried about him.”

As those words sank in, guilt washed over me like a cold wave. My heart sank further. I had been so wrapped up in my own feelings, mad at him without even knowing he was struggling. I had treated him coldly, thinking he was fine, while he had actually been in a difficult place.

The rest of the day blurred together as thoughts of him consumed me. I made careless mistakes in class, fumbling through assignments that I usually handled easily. My teacher noticed, giving me a concerned look, but I couldn’t focus. My mind kept circling back to him, replaying the moments we had shared and how I had pushed him away.

I felt like crying, the weight of regret pressing heavily on my chest. I should have been there for him. Instead, I had let my fear and confusion drive a wedge between us. As the hours passed, each tick of the clock felt like a reminder of how I had missed my chance to support him when he needed it the most.

The guilt was overwhelming. I just wanted him to be okay, and all I could think about was how I had failed him. I resolved that when he returned, I would make things right—somehow. But the ache in my heart reminded me how difficult it would be to face him again.

ツ

After everything that happened, I tried to approach him like nothing had changed. I focused on overcoming my feelings, convincing myself to see him as just my friend and classmate. It was a struggle, but I was determined to make things feel normal again.

I was working on my assignments when I realized I needed to grab something from the back of the room. When I returned, I nearly dropped my things in surprise—there he was, sitting at my table, earphones plugged in and completely absorbed in whatever he was listening to.

With no other choice, I grabbed a chair from nearby and sat across from him, turning my laptop around to tackle my unfinished work. But having him so close made it nearly impossible to concentrate. I couldn’t help but steal glances at his face, the way he was lost in the music, his expression almost serene.

“Hey, what song are you listening to?” I asked, trying to break the ice.

Instead of answering, he unplugged his earphones and gestured for me to lean in. “Here, let’s listen together,” he said, a playful grin on his face. I was expecting something sweet or romantic, but when the music blasted through the air, I was taken aback. It was black metal, loud and chaotic, with heavy riffs that made my head spin.

“Whoa!” I exclaimed, pulling back slightly. “Can you plug your earphones back in? I can’t focus on my work with this blasting in my ears.”

He laughed, a bright sound that made my heart flutter despite the unexpected music choice. “Sorry! I didn’t think you’d be so surprised.”

As he plugged his earphones back in, I felt a mix of relief and frustration. I wanted to connect with him, but everything felt so complicated. His presence was both comforting and confusing, reigniting the emotions I’d been trying to suppress.

“Just a heads-up, you have a very… unique taste in music,” I said, trying to lighten the mood as I refocused on my laptop. He chuckled again, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of our past struggles lifted, if only just a little.

It was the day of the school’s food festival, and excitement buzzed in the air. He had volunteered to help at our class stall while I was busy promoting another class’s offerings. As I walked past, I could hear him shouting my name, teasing me about being a class traitor. His playful banter made me laugh, and for a moment, the tension between us felt like it was fading away.

But then, as I settled in at my friend’s stall, I saw him again. He was chatting with one of my friend’s classmates, their laughter ringing out like music. My heart ached unexpectedly. I hadn’t realized they knew each other, and a pang of jealousy shot through me. Why did it bother me so much to see him having fun with someone else?

He definitely noticed me, though. I could see the way his gaze flickered in my direction, a smile breaking across his face as he caught my eye. But I didn’t stick around to find out what he’d say. Instead, I turned on my heel and headed straight to our stall.

As I plopped down at the back with some younger kids, the chaotic energy around me was infectious. They were running around, excitedly handing out food and laughing, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to be surrounded by their enthusiasm, even if it was a bit overwhelming.

I watched as my classmates bustled about, the smell of fried food wafting through the air. For a moment, I let myself forget about the awkwardness with him. It felt good to lose myself in the moment, enjoying the festival spirit. But even amidst the chaos, I couldn’t shake the image of him laughing with that girl.

The day continued, filled with chatter and laughter, but my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I wondered if he would come over later, if he’d tease me again about being a traitor, and if I’d be able to handle it without my heart getting in the way.

Our senior brought a small, cute lizard to our stall, and the chaos only intensified. He placed the lizard on top of his head, and I couldn’t help but find it adorable. I pulled out my phone and snapped some pictures, capturing the moment as he looked cluelessly into the camera, the lizard perched precariously on his hair.

I reached out to pat the lizard, but my hand accidentally brushed against his hair. It was incredibly soft, and I could feel my cheeks flush. He definitely noticed, but just then, a group of girls gathered around him, their giggles filling the air. A surge of jealousy washed over me, and I quickly turned on my heel, running to my friends to pretend like nothing had happened.

Later, I looked at the pictures I took, and they were undeniably cute. There he was, staring straight at my camera, completely oblivious to the world around him. My friend caught me lingering on one of the photos, and she snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to you! What’s going on?” she teased, pulling me back into reality. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment.

As I promoted my friend’s food, I suddenly spotted my ex walking toward him. My heart sank. They started talking right in front of the stall where I was standing. The moment our eyes met, everything froze. He had only learned about my ex being friends with him a few weeks ago, and I could see the confusion on his face.

I’d blamed my friend for bringing it up during a mafia game, revealing the truth in front of everyone. I’d watched his expression shift from playful to shocked as he processed the information, his eyes darting between me and my ex. I could tell he didn’t expect that connection, especially since we were in the same class when I had been dating my ex.

But as I watched him now, talking casually with my ex, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he didn’t really care. It felt like a painful reminder of all the things unsaid between us. 

ツ

While trying to overcome my feelings, I suddenly felt the urge to text him. It was about some work that needed to be done before the due date. I typed out my message, hesitated for a moment, and finally hit send. Minutes turned into hours, and I found myself staring at my phone, willing it to buzz with a response.

But nothing came.

Frustrated, I eventually gave up, deleted the messages, and asked one of my other classmates for the answers. I tried to push thoughts of him out of my mind, but it wasn’t easy.

The next day, I brought up the topic casually, trying to gauge his reaction. He looked surprised and apologized for not replying. I couldn't shake the annoyance, though; he had clearly read my message through the notifications and just... didn’t bother to reply.

Throughout the day, I kept bringing it up every time I saw him. “So, you really couldn’t find a minute to reply to me?” I teased, half-heartedly. He attempted to change the subject by showing me a math question he’d solved the night before. “Look at this! I figured it out,” he said, grinning, but I wasn’t interested.

Later that night, I decided to text him again, asking about that math question because I genuinely wanted to give it a try. I waited patiently for his response, my heart racing a little as I stared at my screen. After about half an hour, I finally got the notification I’d been waiting for.

When I opened the message, I couldn’t help but smile. He apologized for the late reply and explained that he had overslept. There was something so endearing about his casual, sleepy excuse. I found it cute how he seemed a little embarrassed, and for a moment, the irritation from the day before faded away.

As I typed my response, I felt a flutter in my chest. Maybe there was still hope for us—if only I could navigate these feelings without getting lost in them.

The very next day, none of our teachers showed up since they were all busy with the school festival preparations. My classmates began to gather around my table, the chatter filling the room with a lively energy. As usual, he sat next to me, and we fell into a comfortable rhythm of random conversation.

Then, someone casually brought up crushes. The moment the topic surfaced, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me. They started to ask me about mine, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I could practically feel his gaze on me, waiting for my answer, just like everyone else.

Inside, I wanted to scream that my crush was sitting right next to me, but instead, I played it safe. “Um, he’s not tall and he’s a batchmate,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Of course, that wasn’t enough. One of my friends suddenly blurted out his name. My heart raced, and I quickly denied it, forcing a laugh to mask my embarrassment. “No way, not him!” I lied, my face heating up.

The tension hung in the air, and I could feel my friends looking between us, curious. I needed to change the topic fast. “So, have any of you guys ever tried raw squid? ” I asked, hoping to divert the conversation away from my crush.

As I spoke, I could sense him beside me, still intrigued but quiet. My heart was racing, torn between wanting to share my feelings and the fear of revealing too much. The safe answer felt like a band-aid over a wound that was only getting deeper, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he could read the truth in my eyes.

The next thing he said left us all in shocked silence. He revealed that he had lost his stepbrother just weeks ago due to depression, He found his brother unalive after jumping from their apartment and tears began to fall from his eyes. My heart dropped; I had no idea he was carrying such a heavy burden. The way he spoke felt like he was trying to pretend everything was okay, masking his pain with humor. He even joked that he could wear his brother’s clothes since they came from a branded shop.

Hearing that made my heart break for him. I longed to reach out, to hug him and let him know he wasn’t alone, but I recognized the boundaries—I shouldn’t cross that line.

Instead, I sat in silence, struggling to process his words. The room felt charged with emotion, and the playful conversations from earlier faded into the background. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and it struck me just how much he was suffering on his own.

As I glanced around, I noticed that our classmates were equally taken aback, unsure of how to respond. In that moment, I realized how fragile life could be and how the things we often took for granted like laughter and friendship could quickly become overshadowed by sorrow. My feelings for him suddenly felt more complex; I wanted to be there for him, to help him heal, but I didn’t know how. All I could do was hold my breath and silently share in his grief, wishing for a way to let him know he wasn’t alone.

ツ

Days passed, and I couldn’t shake off the weight of what he had shared. I found myself staring blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought, when my friend smacked my back, jolting me from my reverie.

It was history class, and he was sitting across from me, focused on the questions he didn’t quite understand. Out of nowhere, he brought up the topic of “red flags” and “green flags” in relationships. I smirked and teased, “You’re totally a red flag since you never reply to my messages!”

I thought I was being funny, even added that I’d have to inform his future girlfriend about his late replies. But then he said something that hit me harder than I expected: “I’ll definitely be a fast reply to only my girlfriend, but you’re not my girlfriend, duh.”

I couldn’t respond. The words felt like a knife, cutting into the fragile hope I’d been holding onto. My heart sank, and I quickly redirected the conversation back to history, forcing myself to focus. “Just concentrate on the questions,” I said, trying to mask the pain.

When he asked me about a part he didn’t understand, I didn’t realize how coldly I answered. “Just do it yourself,” I snapped, frustration bubbling up unexpectedly. I could hear him gasp, and my heart sank further as I recognized my mistake.

After that, he started asking everyone else for help—everyone but me. Guilt washed over me like a tidal wave. I had crossed a line, and now he was sulking. I could see it in his eyes, and it twisted my stomach into knots.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I leaned over and quietly gave him the answers he needed. “Here, just follow this,” I said softly, hoping to mend what I had broken. He glanced at me, a mix of surprise and lingering hurt in his expression. I realized then how fragile our connection was, and I desperately wanted to fix it before it slipped away completely.

The final exam had begun. It was an oral test, and only half of our classmates were in the waiting room. He sat across from me, facing me directly. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes—I needed to focus. This was too important to mess up. If I failed, it would be over.

Half an hour passed, and I hadn’t exchanged a single word with him. The weight of the silence and the chaos of my mixed emotions made it worse. I kept thinking about how he’d be paired with another girl for the oral exam. It gnawed at me.

One by one, the teacher called us in. When it was his turn, I watched him from the waiting room, speaking with such confidence, his hands moving expressively as he explained the topic. I couldn’t even focus on what he was saying, but I admired the way he carried himself, with that effortless assurance.

Then, it was my turn. As soon as I stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety hit me. My hands began trembling, and I slid into the chair, trying to maintain my composure as I introduced myself. The first few questions went by quickly, but when we reached the final one, my mind went blank.

I froze. The teacher repeated the question several times, but I couldn’t process anything. Out of nowhere, a vivid image of him and that other girl filled my thoughts. My heart sank. This was supposed to be easy, yet here I was, fumbling in front of everyone. I knew I had messed up.

When I walked out, I could feel the stares. My friends looked at me with concern as I sat down beside them. That’s when I noticed tears streaming down my face. I was relieved he wasn’t there to see me like this.

ツ

Almost every time after an exam, he would wait for me outside the exam hall, eager to discuss the questions. It drove me crazy but he never let it go, even when all I wanted was to move on and forget about it.

Our science teacher held one final class. I arrived early and sat waiting for the others to show up. That’s when I saw him walking toward the school with one of our classmates. My heart skipped a beat. We were both wearing the exact same shirt color, a cream-colored one, bright and noticeable. If anyone saw us, they’d probably think we were wearing matching couple tees.

The embarrassment hit me like a wave. I felt my face flush, so I quickly ducked behind a corner, hoping he wouldn’t see me. It wasn’t even his fault, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of awkwardness that followed me around all day. I ended up avoiding him, not saying a word, too flustered to even look his way.

It was the day I had been dreading most, math exam day. The subject that had haunted me for all of my 18 years. To be honest, I still didn’t really understand what algebra even was. I didn’t have any solid foundation in math. Every time I tried, I failed. There was one time I barely passed, but only because the teacher gave us extra marks. Even then, he was the first one to congratulate me. It was strange how every time he talked about math, it made my heart flutter.

Today was different, though. I was sick, physically and emotionally drained. I hadn’t studied the night before because I was so exhausted, and I had spent the morning in tears. I wished more than anything that I could skip this day entirely.

As we lined up outside the exam hall, he was beside me, going over the formulas. I tried to focus, really tried to take in what he was saying, knowing that if I didn’t pass, I’d lose my chance at going to university. I couldn’t let my parents down like that.

When the exam started, I gave it my all. Surprisingly, an hour went by, and I didn’t have as much trouble with the questions as I’d feared. It was shocking, I couldn’t believe I was actually managing to understand the paper. I glanced over at him, and he seemed happy, like he was breezing through the exam. He definitely ate this paper up.

Then it hit me, the formulas he had explained earlier were exactly the ones on the test. I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. At that moment, I wished I could run up to him and give him a hug for helping me so much, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want to cross any lines. All I could do was smile to myself and thank him silently.

Finally, we were done with six papers. Only two left, and we had a week-long break ahead. Naturally, our teachers couldn’t resist squeezing in more classes, so we had an art session. The teacher combined all three classes together, and I spotted him sitting at the back with his friends.

We got started on our drawings, choosing whatever question we liked. I was focused on mine until I felt a movement behind me. When I glanced up, our eyes met. He had walked over to our table, and without hesitation, he started criticizing my art. He accused me of copying my friend’s work. For the record, I didn’t copy it, I was just inspired by it. But he kept defending my friend's drawing, going on and on. That’s when the thought crept into my mind, maybe he still liked her. After all, they had a history. He used to date her, and she was the girl he’d once been in love with.

A wave of anxiety washed over me, and I couldn’t say anything in response. Instead, I ripped my paper apart and started a new drawing. I could hear the gasps from people around me, but I didn’t care. Let them react however they wanted. At that point, all I felt was anger. I hated him, but more than that, I hated these emotions that kept twisting inside me.

I tried my best to push those emotions aside and focus on what really mattered, my last two papers. I couldn’t afford to let my feelings get in the way, not now. There was too much at stake, and getting through these final exams was the only thing I needed to focus on. But deep down, it was harder than I wanted to admit. Every thought of him, every lingering frustration, kept creeping into the back of my mind.

Still, I knew I had to finish strong. I couldn’t let these emotions control me. So I buried them as best as I could.

ツ

Finally, it was the art exam. Three long hours of sitting made my legs numb and my butt feel like a rock. I was already feeling restless when I glanced to my side and noticed the guy next to me, completely passed out, asleep at his desk. At least he wasn’t from our class, so I wasn’t too worried about him.

Then, without thinking, I found myself stealing a glance at him. He was completely absorbed in his drawing, his focus so intense that it made my heart skip a beat. There was something about the way he immersed himself in whatever he was doing that always got to me.

Three hours flew by, and soon enough, the teachers began collecting our papers. As I stepped out of the exam hall, I noticed him waiting for me by the door. His attention wasn’t on me at first, it was on the mess of colors left on my palette. "That’s a lot of colors," he remarked, clearly impressed by the chaos I’d left behind. I laughed and admitted I’d gone overboard, using almost every color I could get my hands on. But him? He’d only used three. That shocked me the most. How did he make it work so effortlessly?

We started walking together, side by side. It was a simple moment, but I enjoyed every second of it. There was a part of me that wished time would slow down so we could spend more moments like this, just the two of us.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment I’d shared with him. Each memory felt vivid, almost like I could still feel the warmth of his presence. But then, reality hit me hard—I only had two days left before we’d part ways. Tomorrow was the last class.

The thought of confessing my feelings crossed my mind, lingering longer than it ever had. But then I remembered we still had the class dinner coming up. Maybe that would be the right moment. Maybe not. The uncertainty was killing me.

I plugged in my earphones, and the song that started playing was from his favorite band. I hadn’t expected these feelings to go this far, but here I was, caught in them deeper than I ever thought possible.

The next day, I found myself sitting outside the lab door, waiting for the teacher. Half an hour had passed, and there was still no sign of class starting, so I decided to head downstairs and wait with everyone else. Just as I was about to reach the stairs, I caught sight of him standing there. Our eyes locked. My face immediately flushed, probably turning as red as a tomato.

Without thinking, I bolted down the stairs, not even giving him a chance to greet me. As soon as I reached the bottom, I realized how ridiculous I must have looked. It was, without a doubt, the stupidest decision I’d made in a while.

Once we were in the lab, he ended up sitting right behind me. Every time our eyes met, I would quickly look away, pretending I hadn’t noticed. The awkwardness was almost unbearable, like a weight pressing down on me. I kept reminding myself I had one more paper to focus on. I couldn’t let these feelings take over, not now. Not when everything was so close to the end.

ツ

It was the last day of exams—the day that felt like it would end everything. I couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from him. Today might be the last time we talk, and that thought hung over me like a cloud.

I woke up earlier than usual, unsure if it was excitement or sadness keeping me restless. The final paper—the one my teacher expected me to score well on—loomed ahead, but I could barely hold it together.

As I flipped through my book in the early morning hours, I couldn’t focus. My mind was filled with swirling questions. "What if I get a bad score?" The thought clung to me like a weight, suffocating any chance of concentration. "Will my parents disown me if I fail?" I couldn’t shake the fear, and my stomach was too twisted with anxiety to eat or even drink water.

I arrived at school earlier than expected, seeking a quiet spot to study at the back of the lab. There, I sat, muttering the subject matter to myself, trying to force my brain to focus. The room was so still that I was on the verge of falling asleep when the sound of the door opening startled me.

It was him.

Our eyes met, and my heart raced, but I quickly looked away. I needed to focus, even though I felt half-asleep.

"I just need to put my bag here," he said, trying to break the awkwardness that had built between us. I didn’t respond, just nodded, pretending to be engrossed in my book.

"If you need anything, I’ll be at the cafeteria," he added before stepping out.

My heart skipped a beat. "What did he mean by that? Why would I need anything from him?" I chuckled softly to myself, catching a smile creeping onto my face. Slapping my cheeks, I whispered, "What is wrong with me?"

A few minutes passed, and I found myself wandering toward the cafeteria, almost instinctively searching for him. He wasn’t alone, he was sitting with some of our classmates and a group of seniors. I hesitated, but one of the seniors spotted me and called out my name, drawing everyone’s attention to me.

I blushed as I walked over and pulled up a chair next to them. Specifically, next to him. We started chatting about the upcoming exam, nerves settling in as we bounced around last-minute questions.

Suddenly, one of our classmates grabbed my phone to snap a picture but ended up accidentally breaking the charms hanging from it. The pieces scattered across the table, and everyone started to panic. I laughed it off, telling them it was fine, but when I mentioned the price was $20, everyone, especially him, gasped.

"You mean to tell me you paid $20 for this?" he asked, collecting the broken charms with a look of disbelief on his face.

I found his reaction adorable, and despite the stress of the day, it made me smile.

Once we finished our discussion, we decided to gather at the hall. He quickly pulled out his phone to record a "before and after the exam" video. Naturally, I made sure I looked presentable. After all, that video would be in his gallery.

We waited outside the exam hall, and my classmates bombarded me with questions. I explained the same topics repeatedly, but I didn’t mind. In fact, I loved helping them, especially him. He looked so nervous, his hands trembling slightly as we stood there. I could relate. I was nervous too.

The moment finally came for us to step inside the exam hall. Our eyes met again as we took our seats. By sheer luck, his seat was close to mine, close enough that I could still see him.

An hour into the exam, I started to feel the pressure. The ticking clock made me more anxious with each passing second. As I reached the last page, I gasped. It was the exact question I had been explaining over and over during our discussion earlier. I could hear my classmates’ collective shock as they realized it too.

I finished the paper earlier than I expected and couldn’t help but glance over at him. He looked happy, but a bit stressed at the same time. When he caught me staring, I panicked, quickly turning back to shuffle the already completed exam papers on my desk.

My heart was racing.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the exam. The teachers moved through the rows, collecting papers. I exchanged looks with my classmates, and their smiles reassured me. "They’re definitely confident with their answers," I thought, feeling a sense of relief.

I was happy too, but even happier when I saw the look of contentment on his face. The way they all thanked me made me feel genuinely appreciated, especially knowing that I had helped him.

After the exam, we gathered in the main hall, where the teacher reminded us about the class dinner that evening. My mind raced. "Maybe that would be the perfect time to tell him how I feel."

We took pictures with our teachers, a final keepsake of our time in school. He was so happy that the exams were over, his energy contagious. I silently wished I could take a picture with him, just the two of us, before everything changed.

ツ

As I stood in front of my closet, I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about what to wear for the class dinner tonight. I didn’t have fancy or branded clothes like most of my classmates, so I decided to keep it simple. I picked a purple top, even though purple wasn’t really my favorite, and paired it with black baggy jeans. The theme was purple and white, so I didn’t have much of a choice but to go with the flow.

Makeup was another thing. I knew nothing about it, and that made me feel even more self-conscious. So, I left my face bare, grabbed my bag, and waited for my friend to pick me up. The mixed emotions swirling inside me were hard to ignore, anticipation, nervousness, maybe even sadness, knowing this could be one of the last moments we all spent together.

Before stepping out of the house, I took one last look in the mirror. This will have to do, I thought.

When we arrived at the venue, most of our classmates were already seated at a long table. I scanned the room, instinctively searching for him, but he wasn’t there yet. Disappointed, I took a seat in the middle, right across from the boy who had broken my phone charm earlier. I pretended to scroll through my phone while waiting for the rest to arrive, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling settling over me.

Then, I heard a familiar voice approaching the table.

It was him. He walked in wearing a plain white t-shirt and cargo pants. His hair looked so soft, and something about the simplicity of his outfit made my heart skip a beat.

Without even realizing it, I was staring at him. And, of course, he caught me. My face turned crimson, and I immediately looked away, trying to act like nothing happened. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks.

Our seats were pretty far apart, and for some reason, I felt frustrated. I was already in a bad mood, just sitting there, chatting on my phone to pass the time while we waited for food. But then, out of nowhere, I heard someone call my name.

I looked up, and to my surprise, it was him. He had switched seats and was now sitting directly in front of me. I didn’t know what made him move, but the second I saw him sitting there, my heart started racing. He was facing me, and all I could think about was how close he felt, even though the table separated us.

I tried to stay calm, but my heart was beating too fast for that.

As I scrolled through the food list in our group chat, I couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened. None of it seemed appealing, except for one dish that caught my eye: Tom Yum, my absolute favorite. It’s the kind of food I could eat every single day and never get tired of.

Finally, the food arrived, and everyone started passing it around. Most of it was seafood, which I wasn’t a fan of, but I waited patiently for the Tom Yum to come my way. However, just as I had my eyes set on it, one of my classmates grabbed the dish and placed it far away from me, leaving me with nothing but plates of seafood in front of me.

All I wanted was my Tom Yum, I thought to myself, staring longingly at the dish that now seemed so far out of reach.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard his voice. He was talking to our classmate.

"Put the Tom Yum in front of her," he said, pointing at me. "She likes Tom Yum."

I looked up at him, completely stunned. My heart seemed to skip a beat. He knew. He knew it was my favorite dish. I couldn’t even form words at that moment, just staring at him in disbelief.

He looked at me again, as if to confirm, and asked, "Your favorite is Tom Yum, right?"

I was frozen for a second, then nodded slowly, still unable to speak. My mind was racing. 

As I stared at the Tom Yum in front of me, I still couldn't believe what had just happened. How did he know? I never told anyone about my favorite food. I kept replaying the moment over and over in my head, still caught off guard by his casual yet thoughtful gesture.

My heart raced with every glance in his direction. The way he effortlessly knew something so personal about me, something as small as my favorite dish, made my chest tighten with a warmth I couldn’t explain. My friends were talking around me, but I was in my own world, staring at the food and feeling a strange mix of happiness and disbelief.

The smell of the dish filled my senses, but my mind was elsewhere. His voice, the way he said my favorite food out loud, felt like a secret he wasn’t supposed to know, yet he did. I couldn’t help but wonder if he noticed more about me than I had ever realized.

Was this just a coincidence? I thought to myself, unsure if I was reading too much into it. But at that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the seafood, not the stares from my classmates—just the fact that he remembered, and that made my heart flutter in ways I never thought it would.

Before I could even process it, my friend snapped her fingers in front of me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I jumped a little, almost knocking over the glass of water in front of me.

"Oh, sorry! Let’s just… e-e-eat," I stuttered, completely flustered.

I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

As we continued talking, the conversation naturally drifted to casual topics like exams, universities, and, of course, crushes. I did my best to steer clear of giving any real answers. My classmates, however, had other plans. They kept teasing me, shipping me with a guy from our class. It was frustrating, especially because every time they said his name, it only reminded me of the one I truly had feelings for.

Throughout it all, I couldn’t help but glance at him. His smile, his laugh, the way his face lit up when he talked, it was pure perfection. I felt my chest tighten with every stolen glance, knowing I couldn’t bring myself to confess. Not now, not ever.

After we finished eating, we decided to head to the park for pictures. My classmates were all dressed up, skirts, dresses, flawless makeup, and perfect smiles. In contrast, I felt out of place in my simple outfit.

Insecurity crept in, especially as I looked at the girl he used to be in love with. Her perfect skin, slim figure, and adorable smile. It all made sense why he liked her. Maybe he still does. I couldn’t help but wish I was her, even if just for a moment.

While I was lost in my thoughts, one of my classmates suggested a surprise plan for our teacher. The idea was to meet at the famous river in town. We had three cars to choose from, and I decided to ride with the teacher. Just as I made my choice, I heard that familiar voice again.

“I’ll take the teacher’s car too,” he said, almost as if it was a casual decision. My heart sank a little. Did he have to be everywhere? Couldn't I just have a moment alone?

As I walked toward the car, my mind wandered back to the earlier scene with the girl he once loved. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t realize I had walked right past the car. He had to call my name twice to snap me out of it.

"Yah, here’s the car. Where do you want to go?” he asked, his expression unreadable as he looked at me. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. Without a word, I climbed into the car, avoiding eye contact. I must’ve looked so foolish, daydreaming like that.

The ride was quiet, but I found myself stealing glances at him whenever he looked away. Each time I did, my heart raced. He’s pretty cute, I thought. Maybe that’s the problem. He’s too cute for me to keep my feelings in check.

As the teacher dropped us off, we made our way toward the river, where the rest of the group was waiting, already snapping photos. The scene was beautiful, colorful lamps lined the water, reflecting in a way that made the river seem like it was glowing. His eyes lit up the moment he saw it. He quickly pulled out his phone, his excitement so pure, and he did a little run that made me chuckle softly. For a brief moment, I felt lighter, watching him enjoy such a simple thing.

But then, everything came to a standstill.

I saw her, the girl he used to love, slide into his arms as he was taking a selfie. He seemed surprised at first, but that look on his face... he didn’t mind. In fact, he looked happy. Really happy. He giggled at her gesture, and it was like a dagger to my heart. My whole body froze. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. It felt like time itself had stopped.

They stood there, taking what could only be described as couple selfies. She fit so perfectly in his arms, her small frame nestled close to him. It was almost as if he was back-hugging her. I watched helplessly, feeling my heart crack with each smile they shared.

In that moment, every memory I had with him began to fade. It all seemed meaningless now. The way he looked at her, there was no doubt in my mind. He still loved her. And she still loved him.

I hated every second of it. I hated myself for even letting my heart get involved in the first place. Why had I fallen for him? Why couldn’t I be her? Why couldn’t I be pretty enough? Why had fate kept us in the same class for nine years, only for me to end up hurting like this?

I hated that no matter what I did, the world seemed like it was never on my side. These thoughts kept spinning, suffocating me. I could feel them gnawing away at my self-worth, making it impossible to look at myself with anything but disappointment.

I hated myself. More than anything.

I sat on a nearby chair, feeling disconnected as they presented the teacher with a gift and began vlogging. My body was too heavy, my spirit too tired to be on camera. Whenever someone asked me to join in for a group photo, I forced a smile, but inside, I was numb. I avoided looking at him, desperate not to let the emotions I was drowning in show on my face.

The idea of confessing my feelings now seemed pointless. What was the use? He was happy with her. I needed to let go, to free myself from this unrequited attachment. It was over before it even began.

By midnight, some of my classmates had already left, their parents picking them up. The boys, including him, had other plans, staying behind to continue their night. My friends, that girl, and I were heading to the bus stop. I tried my best to push him out of my thoughts, but the heaviness in my chest stayed with me. This wasn’t how I imagined our last day together. Heartbreak wasn't supposed to be part of the ending.

As we walked, she stopped, breaking the silence with a question none of us were ready for. "Does anyone here have a crush on him?" The casualness in her voice masked the storm that was about to unfold. I listened as my friends quickly responded with laughter and denials, but I stayed quiet, my stomach tightening. Then, she pointed directly at me. "What about you? He seems like he’s into you."

My world froze. "Bro, no way," I lied, voice shaky. "That would be my worst nightmare. He’s not even my type." The lie tasted bitter, but I couldn’t risk letting anyone know the truth. Not now. The moment I said it, she looked relieved, as if she had been waiting for this answer. My heart sank further, confused by what this meant. Was my overthinking turning into reality?

“Since none of you like him,” she started, her voice casual, “I’m thinking of asking him to be my boyfriend again.” Those words hit me like a sledgehammer. My heart shattered. It felt like someone was stepping on my chest, squeezing the life out of me.

The group burst into chatter:

"You guys would make a cute couple." "Why did you even break up with him in the first place?" "He looked so happy earlier when you were with him." "He definitely still loves you."

I wanted to scream. What about me? Was my pain invisible to everyone?

As soon as I got home, I ignored my mom's questions about dinner and headed straight to my room. I collapsed onto my bed, not bothering to change out of my clothes. I shoved in my earphones and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would rescue me.

Minutes passed. The song "K." by Cigarettes After Sex started playing in my ears, and that’s when the tears came. They slid down my cheeks, soaking my pillow as the memories of him, the ones I cherished so much, replayed in my head like a cruel movie. I couldn’t stop crying, mourning the connection we never had, the affection he never returned.

I blamed myself for everything. For not being pretty enough, for not being skinny enough, for not being enough. The weight of my insecurities crushed me, suffocating any hope I had left.

Maybe it really was my fault. Maybe, I thought, it would be better if I never existed at all.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Congratulations on 2000+ followers!! I'm so happy for you, hope your account will go on

May I request Loki with Y/N, who is a hedge witch, and they're friends "kissing each other to prove there’s nothing there, accidentally proving that there was, in fact, something there"

I think it would be cute with two magical best friends and then boom, there's something there

Thank you for the kind words and the request!💜💜 This was so cute to write, and I'm a big ole sucker for the "there was, in fact, something there" shtick (I mean, anything sweet and fluffy like that, really, sign me up). I did have to Google what a hedge witch was, and I found some different things, so I blended them together. I hope you enjoy it!

Yeah, "friends" (Loki x Witch!Reader)

Maybe it’s because you both have powers that you get along so well—no one else on the team can function like you two can. Granted, your magic compared to Loki’s could be considered marginal, but in the area of overlap, you have extremely fine-tuned your craft. Compared to Loki, your healing powers were instantaneous and left no lingering pain. Whether it was as small as a paper cut or as severe as internal bleeding, it was nothing you couldn’t handle; Loki, on the other hand, broke a sweat the harder he concentrated on healing. You don’t blame him—illusion is more his thing.

“Please stop letting people clock you right on the nose,” you ask Clint kindly as you fix the broken cartilage, straightening it out to its regular position.

“Trust me, it’s not intentional,” he sighs, crinkling his nose repeatedly as if he’s just smelt something foul. “Thanks.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” you smile, applying a light balm to his skin. “This is to help with itchiness, and it works well with oil control, too.”

“Ha ha,” Nat chuckles dryly as she enters with smoothies. “You’ve got oily skin.”

“It’s a natural glow,” Clint counters, taking the drink.

“Oily skin.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Big pores?” you try, hiding your smile behind your smoothie.

“Ouch. I thought you were supposed to be the nicest out of us all,” Clint pouts.

“Oh she is,” Tony breathes as he and the others come up from the gym, glistening in sweat, breathing heavily, and desperate for water. “Ask Reindeer Games. She’s made his heart of ice melt.”

“Tony,” you chastise.

“I don’t mean that derogatorily, I’m just saying he was never terribly friendly until you came here.”

“Tony’s right,” Bruce interjects before you could react. “He’s a lot less rough around the edges than he was when he first got here.”

“He’s just gotten used to life in the tower and on Earth, that’s all,” you try. “It must not have been an easy adjustment, especially given his past with the planet and then his home being wiped off the map.”

“It probably helps having someone else around that knows how to use magic, too,” Steve tries. He’s not Loki’s biggest fan by any means, but he is sympathetic to being treated differently by others for what he can do. Hell, the whole team knows that feeling—Steve just seems to be the one most cognizant of it.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what it is. Not because he thinks (Y/N) is pretty or anything and wants to get into her good graces,” Nat hums.

“Firstly, he’d have to be blind or tasteless if he didn’t think I was pretty,” you say. “Secondly, Steve is right—it’s nice to know someone that knows how to do the same things I do. He’s easy to talk to.“

“And flirt with,” Clint goads.

“Loki is a friend,” you insist.

“Mm, yeah, ‘friend’,” Tony mocks.

You know better than to argue with him—it’ll only make Tony and others believe you hold a deeper affection for him. When you see Loki walk in with a book in one hand, an idea suddenly strikes you.

Without a second thought, you get up wordlessly, hold his face in your hands, perch up on your toes, and kiss him. As soon as your lips meet, you feel electricity shoot throughout your body and a warmth spread in your chest. What was meant to be a quick kiss is one that lingers, leaving both Loki and you stunned and breathless after you part. You could easily get lost in his eyes as you stare at one another with your lips tingling and your hearts beating fast, and you want to lean back in in the worst way imaginable. Instead, you turn to the group watching in stunned silence, removing the small array of jasmine flowers that appeared in your hair during the kiss.

“Friends,” you say simply before you leave the common space.

Definitely not friends.

Definitely more.

Those are the only thoughts running through your head for the rest of the day. No matter what you do to busy yourself, your thoughts are consumed with Loki and the feeling of his lips against yours, what it would feel like to have his arms wrapped around you to hold you close and never let go.

Letting out a deep exhale, you get up off of your bed and pad across the floor. You just need some tea—a good cup of chamomile will help clear your head and help you think straight. You gasp when you see Loki standing at your doorway in his pajama pants, looking as if he’s just about to knock.

“Loki,” you breathe, his pale skin seeming to glow in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry to have startled you,” he says, his blue eyes slightly downturned at the corners. “If you want, I can—.”

“No, don’t leave,” you stop him, gently placing a hand on his wrist. “Come in.”

He gives you a small smile and a nod, moving into your room like he has so many times before to talk about books and magic or whatever else we wanted to.

You watch him as he moves, seeing the toned muscles of his back gently shifting under his skin as he moves, the line down his spine looking more defined with the nighttime shadow.

“Is everything okay?” you ask gently, closing the door behind you to join him by your bed.

He pokes his tongue between his pink lips, licking them carefully before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about that kiss all day,” he breathes. “I don’t understand it.”

“O-Oh,” you stutter. “I—.”

“You don’t need to explain what or why, because it won’t matter depending on the answer to what I’m about to ask.”

Your breaths are shallow and your skin is warm, his hands sliding into yours as you wait with bated breath.

“Did you feel something when we kissed?” he asks, his voice silky and soft.

He felt it too.

Crashing your lips into his, you hold him close and move your hands from his to run your fingers through his hair. Loki moans against your lips while his arms snake around your body. This embrace is everything and more than the kiss you shared in the morning. Loki’s hands squeeze your sides in an effort to fuse your bodies together, himself desperate for the embrace.

“Can I take that as a yes?” he asks with a breathy laugh, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yeah,” you hum in delight, your fingers playing with the loose waves in his raven hair. “I felt it. Little jasmine flowers don’t just pop up in my hair for anybody, you know.”

Loki lets out a little chuckle as he gently nudged his nose against yours. “Good.”

With a bright smile, he wraps his arms around you once more and presses his lips to yours, exchanging all of your affection with a simple action.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[cheekygreenty]

His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Can I place an order for Yandere Geralt de Rivia with the kind and loving reader who sees the best in people?

Yes lemme cook something up for our mans Geralt⚔️

Geralt of Rivia x reader - Full Moon on the Rise

Summary: You’ve never felt actual hate for others, you can’t even bring yourself to hurt a fly, and with Geralt, he’ll make sure you never have to.

Warning: a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective Geralt

Masterlist

“So what do you think? The green cloak or the black one....ohhh or maybe the red one?” You ask excitedly as Geralt stands next to you, looking around for any potential threats more then actually paying any real attention, “I mean, the green matches more with the woods, you know trees n’ such and that’s great for blending in. But the black gives off those scary vibes you have. But the dark red one just looks so good, and comfy too.” You raise a brow as he nods, “You know.”

“Right.”

You smile at his adorably lack luster reply, it’s just how he is and that’s perfectly fine with you, “I’m going with the dark red cloak.” You grin with a curt nod of self approval for your knowledgeable decision making skills.

Turning to the cloak vendor you hold up your prize, “Good evening ma’am, how much for this mysterious beauty?”

The old woman smiles brightly, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she beams, quite excited to have some business with you, “Oh, my dear that’ll be five silver pieces.” You nod, tucking your new cloak under your arm as you nudge Geralt for some coin.

He quickly snaps his head over to you, his golden irises showing concern before he realizes you’re completely fine, “Y/N what is it?”

With a small giggle you make a grabby motion with your hand, “Spare me five silver pieces my good sir.” You muse with a mischievous brow wiggle, earning an amused huff from your Witcher.

He politely grins, “Whatever the lady asks.” Feeling around he pulls out the exact amount of coin you need. Your palm is spread as he tilts his hand into yours, conveniently giving you the coin.

“Thank you my love.” You whisper softy as he simply hands you the flash of a smile before turning his head to scour the market place once again.

The old woman opens up a small sack of coins for you to dump yours in, “Thank ya dear, have a save eve’nin.”

Clink. Sounds the last silver piece as you hold your new dirt-less red cloak closer in your arm, “You too.”

She suddenly leans in a bit closer, her face going serious, “Best keep that Witcher close, never know what kind of beasts be lurking in the woods. Specially with the next full moons a com’in.” Her wrinkly complexion turning back into her original beaming old lady face, “Have a nice stay in Bellepav.”

Stepping away you nervously nod, “Uh, yes....I’ll try?” You reply, not certain if you should be concerned or ignore the weirdness of the locals.

Deciding to ignore the strange behavior of the kind old woman, you flash her a last generous grin before turning on your heel and walking over to Geralt. With the familiar sound of your approaching footsteps he turns an intrigued eye over to you.

His brows furrowing as you gently lay a hand on his arm, “You alright Y/N.” He worries, noticing the slight wariness in your step.

Lightly squeezing his forearm you send him a reassuring smile, “Of course, that old woman was just acting odd. Well not that odd, I’ve definitely seen weirder....she just had a strange look when she told me to keep you close and watch out for the next full moon.”

He moves to take your cloak from you, quietly swinging the thick comfortable dark red fabric around your shoulders, clasping the lock together that keeps the material from falling off your body.

After he’s done, does his beautiful golden eyes find your alluring ones, “Y/N, we’ll be fine. I wouldn’t dare let a soul touch you, you have my word.”

Reaching up to gently cup his scruffy cheek, you smirk, “I know you do.” Releasing your warm touch from his face do you turn towards the bakers cart, the smell of fresh bread wafting into your nostrils.

“Geralt!” You exclaim with an excited twinkle in your eyes, “Fresh bread....” Your skilled eyes land upon the shiny red apples displayed about on the stall, “Apples! Ugh, I haven’t had an actual apple in almost four months, what I would do for one.”

Your eyes stare dreamily at the bakers cart, your mouth watering at the smell and sight of the desired foods. Geralt chuckles at your adorable reaction before tugging at your arm. “Come on Y/N, I’ll get you something.” Speaks your kind Witcher with a tinge of humor in his gravely voice.

Snapping your head towards him, your eyes going wide in excitement, “Aww yes!” You shout before pulling him in the direction of the cart, joy flowing through your heart as you make hasty steps across the market place.

The red apples are even more beautiful then you’d first seen as you stand ogling them from your spot in the muddy lane, “Sir I’d like three apples and a loaf of that bread please.” You ask, your voice sweet as honey.

He nods, “That’ll be two silver pieces and a copper cent.” Inquires the baker with a friendly smile, casually looking you up and down though you’re to focused on the apples to even notice his slight creepiness.

Geralt does and immediately steps forward, his broad leather armored shoulder placing itself in between you and the lonely baker. His golden irises dark and deadly as he stares down the now noticeably frightened man.

The baker takes a step back, sending him a shy half grin, “Uh...I’ll get those apples...and uh...loaf of br-bread.” He stutteres, dropped his eyes to nothing else but his new task at hand.

You watch from behind Geralt’s strong body, your mind on those big beautiful apples as Geralt fishes out the coin, dropping it atop the wooden table as the baker hands him the loaf and a small bag filled with three juicy red apples.

A smile breaks out upon your face as Geralt hands you the food, you gratefully accept as he turns and practically death glares at the stunned baker, who’s notably averted his gaze to his fluffy loaves of bread.

Geralt turns back around to watch as you hug your valuables close, a small smirk pulls at the corner of his lips at your obliviously cute demeanor.

Resting a hand on your shoulder he finds your beaming eyes, “Lets go find Roach.”

You gasp, “I bet Roach would love one of these big beautiful bastards.” Earning a chuckle from your silver haired lover as he walks by your side on the way to the front entrance of the small village.

You both wander past some more harmless villagers going about their business until a small dirty little boy races past the two of you, tripping over his own two feet and just like that does he abruptly fall into the dirt. His hands landing with a thwack sound as his stomach and knees reach the hard ground.

He lets out a pained cry once his chin hits the earth, you don’t have time to think before you’ve crouched by his side like a concerned mother. You gently touch his shoulder as he sniffles, his dirt smudged face turning to you.

“That was quite the tumble, are you alright?” His big brown eyes are filled with unshed tears as he moves into a seated position, his hands clutched tight against his chest as he holds in the pain.

“Y-yes.....sorry miss I should have been looking were I was going.” He mutters, his eyes downcast as he avoids Geralt’s hard gaze from right next to you.

Your eyes turn soft before you take one of your red apples from out of your thin ruck sack, “I have just the thing that would cheer you up, ever taste something as colorful as this crimson beauty?” You add with a raise of your brow, the young boy sniffles again. His face lighting up as you wave the shining red apple across his line of sight.

You smile, handing him the scarlet treat, “I think you need this more then me. Maybe it’ll sharped those senses so you won’t fall again, hmm.”

He holds the valuable in his small grubby fingers, his eyes wide in surprised wonder, “Th-thank you miss, I’ll try and not fall again.”

You breath out an amused snort, “Yes, I wouldn’t want to land on these streets again, considering horses are ridden through them daily.” The brown eyed boy gives you the shyest of smiles before you stand to your full height once again.

“Safe travels.” You add with a friendly wink before continuing on your way out of the village, Geralt trailing after you like the ever loyal lover that he is.

His large form keeps comfortably at your side, “That was our apple Y/N.” States Geralt in his titular gruff Witcher voice.

Turning an amused smirk to him, you nudge his arm, “Great observation, but the little beast seemed to need it more...poor thing just about face planted in the street. Did look quite painful.”

Geralt smiles, always bemused by your kind intellect, “Y/N you are too kind.”

Walking past the front gates and down the muddy village trail you let out a small laugh, “What? Can I not give a little, if you haven’t noticed my White Wolf...this world doesn’t like to be very kind to the innocent most times.” He hums in agreement, “So you see, I’ll do whatever I can to help those who need it most. And if that’s a clumsy child with a dirty face, I’ll be glad to make their day better.”

You can’t see it, but Geralt’s heart could just about explode with how much love he has for you in this very moment, the way you speak with such care and kindness for the people of the continent. He’s never met anyone like you, through it all, with all you’ve seen, your heart still goes out for the ones who need it the most and Geralt knows this. 

Your whole aurora feels light and warm, excitement courses through your vessel as you think of how happy Roach is going to be once she gets a taste of your delicious apple. And especially how much you’re looking forward to taking a bite out of your own crispy red apple too. It’s the little things.

Boots press into mud as you finally find your way to the small stream where you both left Roach to nibble on some vegetation. You quickly set your loaf of bread onto a mossy log before reaching in your thin ruck sack to pull out one beautifully shiny crimson apple.

“Hello my dear Roach!” You exclaim happily as the mare neighs, “I’ve got a lil somethin’ for ya, it’s a...da da da daaaa....apple!” Geralt chuckles to himself in the background as he fumbles around in his black traveling bag, finding something to sharpen his sword with.

“How bout’ them apples..” you burst with laughter at your admittedly cheesy jest, “Okay, okay...here ya go Roach. A prize for the best lady in all the land.” Her head bobs up and down as you bring the red apple near her face. She quickly devours the fruit in a matter of seconds, the speed and her clear delight enough to earn a giggle from you.

“Roach.” You tut with a shake of your head, “Those manners are something else. Wonder who you learned them from?”

You turn an eye to Geralt who’s stopped sharpening his sword to find your humored gaze, “I wouldn’t have the slightest idea.” He mutters, doing his best to hide his growing smile.

Turning a flustered face away from him you gently pet Roach’s soft mane, “He thinks he’s funny, doesn’t he?” You whisper to the mare.

After tending to Roach for a bit do you walk down to the stream, washing away the dirt and grime from your hands and face as Geralt starts a fire close by. You can feel his golden irises watching you as the cool water washes away the worries of the day.

Finishing up your nightly routine, you stand once more, turning around to face the loving smile of your dear Witcher. You walk over to his glowing fire, a small smile upon your lips, “Room for one more?”

He scoots himself down the log, patting to the extra spot, “There’s always room for you.”

Sitting yourself next to him, he quickly wraps a protective arm around you, pulling your body close. The both of you do nothing but enjoy one another’s company and the crackling of the campfire for what seems like hours. You couldn’t be bothered to remove yourself from Geralt even if a whole war party was racing past you both louder then a giants scream.

Though you’re just about certain without a doubt in your mind that Geralt feels the exact same way. His breathing his steady and calm, it’s a comforting rhythm that you could listen to for hours. Even his large muscular arm is warm against your body, he’s like a furnace on the coldest night. And all yours.

You’re just about to drift off into dreamland when a sudden loud howl is heard in the near distance causing you to jump. Geralt hugs you closer, “Fear not Y/N, it’s just a damn wolf, nothing to be afraid of.” He assures you with the kindest of smiles, not a note of falseness lacing his words.

Resting your head against his broad shoulder once again, you gently squeeze his hand, “Right, of course. Just a stupid old wolf who apparently feels it the time to howl at the full moon tonight.” You affirm with a curt nod, “I mean, it’s beautiful out and whatnot, guess it just startled me is all.”

“There’s nothing in these woods to be afraid of, except for me.” Grumbles Geralt as he stares into the embers of the fire.

“Oh, my love I could never be afraid of you. Never.” He smiles at your truthfulness, his chest filling with warmth at your kind words.

In reply he places a gentle kiss atop your head, earning a content sigh to leave your lips at the feeling, he is too good to you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not once has he ever made you uncomfortable or in fear for your life because of him, Geralt makes sure of himself to always put you first. He couldn’t bare to ever see you in pain.

The grip on your Witcher’s arm goes tighter at the sound of another piercing howl, this time much too close for your liking. Geralt can sense the fearful uneasiness radiating off of your smaller frame, how your heartbeat has picked up with the rush of your nerves. You’re not one to scare that easily, but this wolf is most definitely getting closer for whatever reason.

“Geralt!” You whisper yell, “That sounded close!”

With one arm wrapped around your torso and the other one clasped around the hilt of his silver sword, he looks around him as they two of you keep seated atop the log, a grand moon cloaking the land in a strangely beautiful whiteness. Revealing enough light upon the ground so that not all of the forest is covered in darkness and shadow.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I will protect you.” He swears to you, giving a light squeeze to your hip in a small act of comfort, “And anyways, if this was anything to be truly concerned about, Roach would show it. We are going to be fine. This wolf is simply just passing through.”

Your eyes glance over to Roach who’s casually nibbling on some grass, “Alright. Perhaps I’m overreacting, it’s just a wolf going on a nightly stroll as you do, nothing weird about that.”

“Precisely, now how about we get ready for bed? I’ve got the bed rolls already layed out for us....so don’t worry Y/N I’ve got you.” Reassures your Witcher as he removes his arm from your side to rest his sword in the grass right next to his makeshift bed. 

Feeling much better now you eagerly follow suit, the roughish cloth of your traveling bed roll is a cherished luxury of journeying across the vast lands of the continent. Though a tavern mattress would be more inviting, the arms of Geralt are always enough in your eyes, or perhaps arms in this case.

Even on the coldest of nights out here would you never really feel a shiver or the icy touch of the cool night air upon your skin. For your Witcher’s large frame seems to always be enough to block out the chill with his body heat when pressed closely against your back.

 Just like he is doing now, holding you securely to his large chest, his arms wrapped around your torso. Pulling yourself firmly counter to him, a thick blanket holding in the needed heat that nicely covers over the both of you.

With Geralt so near, your wandering and worrying mind has subsided those troublesome thoughts away from you, the howling wolf from earlier now finding it’s way into the back of your head. Giving yourself time to forget and find the call to sleep once again. With the warmth of Geralt holding you close, your eyelids flutter shut in a matter of seconds, the pull into the dark void of unconsciousness taking hold of you quickly.

Soon you’re out like a light, Geralt falling asleep not long after you do, leaving only the dull glowing embers of the campfire to keep watch over the two of you. Sleep is peaceful and full of strange images presenting themselves as dreams in your head, you can hear the soft sweet calling of Geralt as he speaks sweet nothings into the bleary grey void. 

Suddenly you’re standing in a large field of the greenest grasses flowing at your feet, large beautiful mountains surrounding you on all sides off in the far distance, you look to your left and find a single small tree with a branch sticking out. 

Walking closer, a black raven materializes right before your very eyes, breaking the silence with a gravelly shrill caw as it nods in your direction. Like it’s trying to communicate with you in the birds own way, furrowing your brows, you trek closer to the mysterious bird. You don’t appear to feel afraid or scared, you’re not even sure if you feel anything at all. Guess that’s just how dreams are sometimes.

Taking another step closer the raven lets out a thrilling caw before the dark bird spreads its black wings, you stumble back as the bird jumps from its perch to take flight. It flaps past you before landing on the short green grass where it is immediately clouded in dark smoke of blues, purples, and deep reds until everything clears to reveal the dirt smudged face of the little boy from earlier that day.

You gasp, surprised to see the little guy standing right before you once again, he looks up to you now, the tiniest of smiles crossing over his face. You stand perplexed, ready to ask him why he’s here when suddenly he points to the blue sky. 

“Hold your silver close.” He speaks softly, in that unassuming boyish voice of his.

Hugging yourself, you glance back down at him, “Sorry? I’m not sure what you mean.”

He simply points his little stubby finger back up at the sky, you follow, bewildered to find that the sky is now dark and full of stars, though you can still see around you like the sun is still out. How odd.

“Hold your Witcher close.” Warns the small child in the calmest of voices. 

Furrowing your brows in confusion you meet his stoic gaze once again. “Uh....I’m kind of lost, sorry.” You mutter, “I’m not certain what you mean.”

The child smiles a beaming grin, letting out the most adorable of giggles before pointing up at the night sky for the third time, you shift your gaze to find nothing but pitch blackness. And a huge milk white glowing full moon, it’s the largest you’ve ever seen and it’s absolutely magnificent.

You don’t even notice the smile that's fallen onto your face when you suddenly hear the flapping of feathers, snapping your sight back over to the young boy, you’re perplexed to be greeted with the beaming wrinkly face of the old woman from the market. 

She nods, acknowledging your presence, “Watch for what lurks in the woods dear. The full moon is here.” She whispers, the warmest of smiles gracing over her aged face as she nods to you once again.

Taking a step closer you take a nervous fistful of the red cloak that’s covering your body, how strange you didn’t notice the material before hand. “Oh, uh hello there....it is quite beautiful isn’t it.” You stammer, “There was a little boy just here moments ago. Do you know where he went?”

She tilts her head to the side, walking a couple steps forward so that she can reach out to clasp both your hands with hers, a kind twinkle in her eye, “My dear, he will always love you, through land and sea, from woods to meadow, and far beyond what makes us human.” She gently squeezes your hands in reassurance, “No matter the cost, he will always love you. For you are his moon, and he is your sun.”

Your brows scrunch together at her poetic words of wisdom? Or, well you’re not entirely so sure, “Sorry. I’m not confident on what you’re getting at ma’am, uh...thank you, I guess.” She smiles once again, showing you a nod of approval before letting go of your hands. 

She takes a step back, clasping her palms together, “He is here.” 

“Who is here?” You wonder.

“You will see.”

Without warning she abruptly bursts into a flurry of cawing ravens that squawk and screech as they press and flap their dark wings against your face, causing you to fall back into the grass from the jolting intrusion. Suddenly you suck in a quick breath of cold air, your eyes shooting wide open, only for you to find the snoozing face of Geralt. 

His tangled dirty white hair a mess over his handsome face as he lets in slow and calming breaths, you relax, letting out an audible sigh of relief. What a strange dream that was, you’ve never had anything like it before. And your dreams are far from anything normal most times. 

Though Geralt feels rather nice snuggled next to you, your body feels hot and sweaty, like you can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed and cornered at the moment. Wanting to get some air and cool off, you quietly and skillfully slip from your Witcher’s sweet embrace. You slowly cover him back up with the thick blanket, tip-toeing over to Roach who’s itching her furry bottom on a tree.

You take small steps towards her, a half smile pulling at the corner of your lips, “Hey there girl, having fun?” You chuckle to yourself as she does her thing.

“Nice night huh, I hope no one’s come around to bother you.” She leans her big soft nose into your gentle touch as you pet her, “I got a little too warm, guess Geralt’s a lot hotter then I anticipated. Well, I mean...he’s always hot if you catch my meaning...but you probably already new that and uh....you’d probably rather not listen to me ramble on about how attractive your rider is, hmm? So don’t fret, I will stop.”

She snorts, nudging her nose into your opened palm, “Okay girl, I think you’re great too. I’d say you’ve helped us out quite a bit and not to mention when...” 

Snap.

Your head leers to the left at the abrupt sound, nothing but milky white darkness and shadow is to be seen as your eyes trail over the wood line. That was certainly very close, what the hell even made that stick break? Was it a deer, or maybe a coyote? 

Your nerves prick when Roach suddenly takes a wary step backwards, her leather reigns pulling to their limit as she takes another step away from you. Thinking quick, you rush to her side, pulling out Geralt’s other silver sword just incase some weird shit is about to go down.

Grasping the blade in your tight grip, you take cautious steps towards the heavy pines that seems to be the place where the stick snapped. You swallow nervously, your heart just about beating out of your chest as you travel closer and closer to the green bristles. 

Y/N what are you doing? Have you learned nothing from what those weird dreams were telling you?

Blinking hard, you stop, turning an apprehensive glance over to your peacefully sleeping Witcher, why wake him this could be a simple deer? Letting out another shaky breath you turn towards the thick pine trees, squinting your eyes as you try and do your absolute best to locate the intruder. Walking past a small evergreen, your heart feels like it’s about to explode when suddenly you hear a gentle rustle of leaves directly in front of you.

Turn back idiot.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you blink again, attempting to focus enough that maybe you’ll be able to see what’s making that noise. But as you’re leaning in to the pines, does your eyes finally catch the sight of a large black figure standing on the other side of the tree. Without warning the shadow leaps, you don’t even have a chance to scream before the flash of pearly white fangs reveals itself to you in a raging blur. 

The beast shoves you back into the clearing, emitting a blood curdling howl of agony as it steps into the moonlight, your eyes widen in fear at the chilling sight of a huge dark-grey werewolf. It’s inhuman eyes that of glowing topaz, it’s fangs bare and mouth dripping with saliva. Your chest rises and falls with heavy terrified breaths as the wolfman stands on two legs, its strong hand going to its stomach where a thick human like paw pulls out your silver blade.

Steaming red hot blood pours to the frost covered earth as the beast drops the shinning silver to the ground, its wound showing in the bright moonlight as it eyes you down like you’re nothing more then a lost sheep. You shiver at the sight, desperately scooting yourself backwards towards the fire as the werewolf growls a low but haunting note, falling onto all fours as it takes a step closer.

A frightful tear falls down the side of your cheek, you see nothing but hunger and pain in this creatures eyes, he’s slowly dying, but you know he will kill you before his last breath is had.

The wolfman growls again, readying a last charge when all of a sudden a shimmering silver sword is thrust deeply into the beasts throat, the source of its demise steps in between you and the wounded bastard.

Your eyes are wide as you watch the werewolf sink to the earth, gargling and choking on it’s own blood as it dies, twitching here and there before finally it goes still as stone. Not a sound emitting from it’s vessel but the heavy breaths of yourself and Geralt, who’s walked over to the beast now. Crouching down to observe it better, he hums, pulling the blood covered sword out of the monsters throat with a gross meaty sound.

You let out a shaky breath, slowly pulling yourself to your feet as Geralt drags his bloody silver over the beasts fur to clean the wet red from the blade. You swallow thickly, eyes watery from the whole frightening ordeal, “So not a deer as I had hoped.” You mutter, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips causing you to gasp in pain at something on your ribs. 

Geralt pierces his sword into the soft dirt, his face a mask of frustrated anger as he turns to you, “Y/N what where you thinking? You could have been killed, you didn’t know what was lurking in the dark, why wouldn’t you have just stayed by the fire?” He grumbles as you avoid his troubled gaze.

Another tear slips down your cheek causing his face to immediately soften, “I don’t know?” You whisper sadly, “I...I shouldn’t have thought to walk in the dark alone like that, it was foolish of me Geralt, truly...I’ll think better of it next time I promi- agh ugh...”A sharp jolting pain rips through your body right down the side of your right ribcage, feeling like someone has just burned you with a cast iron. 

More whimpers slip from your tongue at the searing violent stinging of your flesh causing you to press your hands against the area, your face contorting into one of agony while Geralt’s expression reveals deep concern. Not understanding in the slightest why you feel such misery all of a sudden, your eyes slip down to the dreaded area where you take notice of how your dark coat appears to be torn in jagged slashes where the pain is coming from.

Your brows furrow as you slowly remove your tied overcoat, Geralt’s big golden irises studying your every move for what the problem may be. Your hands make quick work of the lacing, now your arms move as you remove the jacket, you gasp in fear once it falls to the ground.

“Y/N.” Whispers Geralt in the softest of voices as a lone tear slides down your cheek.

Slowly you raise your weary head to meet is saddened gaze, “I’ve been bitten.” You rasp, lifting your bloody hand up into the silky moonlight, the burning ache of your wound making itself more present then ever.

Suddenly a surging spike of white hot torment angrily tears up into your side once more, though this time it’s too overwhelmingly excruciating that you fall to your knees, desperately grasping your wounded side when Geralt takes quick steps forward. Pulling you into his strong arms before you’re able to even hit the cold earth completely, his eyes never leaving your distressed face.

“Y/N look at me love, I’m right here...” He speaks gently while holding you close, though you can’t look at him, “don’t be afraid I’ve got you.”

More fearful tears fall freely now as you press your face into his shoulder, a numb and dark feeling finding it’s way into your soul while your arms wrap themselves around his waist, “No, not this.” You cry, shaking with fright, “This cannot be, I-I cannot be a wolf beast....I won’t ever harm anyone Geralt I swear to you on my life, I would never! I-I could never, it isn’t in me!” 

“Oh Y/N, my dear Y/N..” His voice surprises you with how uncharacteristically tender it sounds, “Look at me love.” He pleads calmly, pulling you from his shoulder so that you may look into his kind-hearted gaze, “Do you think now, that I would dare lay my blade against your precious skin?” Your lip quivers as your watery eyes slip from his to the werewolf laying dead near the two of you.

“I am one of them now Geralt. How can I live as this now, I am not a monster. I can’t hurt innocent people, I can’t.” You exclaim, your voice breaking as you speak, “All the years we have been together have been the happiest of my entire life, know this Geralt. You bring me so much joy and light that I never imagined I could ever feel, you have given me your heart even when you first claimed you could not love. I will never forget that.” His heart breaks in two at your truthful words of honesty paired with how somber and dismal you appear.

Not being able to stand you looking away from him for much longer, he carefully lifts a hand up to turn your face to his, leaving his palm on your cheek in a comforting manner, “Y/N my love, you will never be a monster in my eyes, not once not ever. I may be a Witcher, but you will not meet an untimely end due to this curse that has made it’s way into your vessel.” His eyes are soft and serene, full of absolute love and adoration for you.

Y/N he will not hurt you, but you cannot hurt others.

You sniffle, your voice thick as you speak, “I will not let others suffer a violent death because of me Geralt, it’s not in my blood.”

“You will not, there is always another way..”

“There is no other way!” You interrupt, sure of yourself that this new affliction will be your inevitable demise, “A werewolf cannot be broken of their curse once it is had, there are no known antidotes!”

“Y/N..”

“This bite cannot be undone Geralt.”

Eyes softening, he pulls you in closer to rest his head against your own, “My dear Y/N, your life means more to me then you know. I will find you the cure, I have seen a vial of it myself long ago when visiting an experienced alchemist who taught me many things about potion making. He will surly know how to rid this she-wolf within you, I am sure of it.”

Lifting your face away from his, you finally show him the tiniest of relieved smiles, your heart bursting with joy at this refreshing news, “You never fail to surprise me, even now. I trust you...I love you Geralt of Rivia with my entire being, every part of me from now until death. I guess this world has yet to bring me down.” 

Studying your newly determined expression, he grins with eyes full of love, “I do not doubt it my dear one.”

[jisungscaramel]

vexation | hyunjin

❀ genre; smut, college au, enemies au  ❀ pairing; hyunjin x reader (fem) ❀ word count; 2.7k 

[warning] strong language, explicit sexual content, dry humping, (mild) begging, hate sex

There it was: Hwang Hyunjin, name beautifully printed right above yours. You shuddered in complete disgust, not believing that you were paired with him of all people for your history presentation. There were 34 students in the class; that meant you had a whopping 97% chance of being paired with literally anyone else, but no. Your professor, Dr. Zhang, just had to pair you with him. 

Overachiever: that was an understatement. He was the type to want all of the glory for the taking, the type to enjoy making others feel like they were dumb, the type who had no issue in forsaking common morals for his own gain. 

You couldn’t fucking stand him. 

Begrudgingly, you stood up from your original seat, trudging your feet to sit next to him - at your professor’s instruction, of course. You planned on at least being polite, and you thought for a second that he might do the same, but he didn’t even bother looking at you, staring through to the front of the room, eyes stoic. If he was trying to provoke you, it was definitely working. 

You dropped your backpack to the ground, unceremoniously, sound drowning in the increasing levels of chatter in the small lecture hall, but clearly loud enough to make his composure teeter; his head jerked back a millimeter, a minuscule gesture but it was painfully obvious to you. And you let out an equally obvious slew of snickers before sitting back in the seat, neck meeting the old frayed fabric as you tilted your head back, arms stacking on one another as you folded them, woman spreading to occupy more real estate than you actually required.

You had to at least try to keep yourself amused. 

Hyunjin began scribbling mindlessly on a blank piece of paper - still acting as if you were not even there. 

He slammed the white sheet down on your knee, sending vibrations straight up your leg rather rudely. 

Asshole. 

Oh, baby, he hadn’t even started yet. 

“Okay. We’re doing our paper on I-Hotel and… I’m gonna write it. All you have to do is find these books for me at the library.” He turned to look at you with a very aggravating smirk… maybe you’d notice the tiniest hint of flirtation if the feeling of overwhelming irritation didn’t encompass you. 

But the chance passed when his countenance morphed into counterfeit concern, tapping his chin in contemplation for added effect, “although, I think the library’s computer system is down… I guess you gotta find them the old-fashioned way.” God, you just wanted to smack that smug grin right off his face. “I’d love to help you with that... but I’m just too busy…” It should’ve been illegal for intolerable people to be that gorgeous.

You blinked in complete confusion. “Ummm… excuse me?” 

“I’m… sorry… do… I… need… to … talk… slower…?”

You gingerly picked up the piece of paper, promptly getting up from your chair, glaring at him. You made sure your backpack was secure on your shoulder before dramatically lifting the note in front of his face to tear what he wrote to shreds, scattering the bits over his laptop’s keyboard. “Stick a motherfucking cactus up your ass.” 

You stormed out of that hall with your head high, not daring to look back despite your innate desire to see his response - you were sure it was priceless. 

‘I’ll just have to do this damn thing on my own.’

Oh, if it could only be that simple. 

The first thing that popped up on your laptop when you opened it from the safety of the library was an unexpected email. 

Since you ripped up my list - rather rudely I might add - I’ve attached the list of the books I require. I will be at the library at four PM sharp. Please plan accordingly. Hyunjin 

“Fuck.” 

‘Plan accordingly,’ your ass, according to you, your plan was to minimize the amount of time you had to spend dealing with Hyunjin, and you had been 100% sure he had the same sentiment… so much for that. 

Speaking of the devil, as soon as you decided to dismiss his outlandish request and settle in to get some of your research started, Hyunjin yanked your attention away from your laptop with merely his presence, almost as if your nerves were hypersensitive to his saccharine dipped aura, and most definitely not to the signature sway of his frame as he walked. 

You didn’t dare grant him the luxury of your direct gaze. Instead, you kept a close eye on him in your peripheral, hoping you’d blend in with the people around you… but there was still at least a 92% chance he’d see you.

“Did you get my sources?” and now he was right in front of you, nothing but a measly table in between. 

Your nostrils flared in an effort to not retort back at Hyunjin, eyes still fixed on your screen in a successful attempt to ignore him. 

Then he pushed your laptop closed, hand planted firmly on the device rather invasively. “Excuse me, I’m talking to you.”

You gritted your teeth, tilting your head up in a menacing stare, eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you want?” 

God, you didn’t know his smile could get more fake than it already was. “I told you to get my sources for me,” his tone was exaggeratedly slow, “did you get my sources?” 

You shoved his hand away from your laptop. “Get your own sources.” 

Immediately his fake smile turned into a sincere snicker, rolling his eyes off to the side. “Uptight bitch.” 

His words sank in for a moment. “You wanna say that again?” 

He leaned over the table, face a mere six inches from yours. “Uptight,” you could feel your fists involuntarily clenching, digging into your palms what would soon be prominent crescents in a matter of seconds, “bitch.” 

You almost raised your palm to gratuitously slap him across the face but the simmering mellowness in you kept a tight grasp of your boiling anger. You leaned back in your seat in an effort to widen the physical gap (or the lack thereof) between you. “Fuck off.”

<><><><><><> 

“Hyunjin, y/n, can you both come down to the podium,” Dr. Zhang added at the end of his lecture, halting your plans to b-line straight to the library. 

As the aisles began to empty, you made your way down the steps to the front of the room, purposefully standing at the side opposite of Hyunjin, frankly paying no mind to him for all intents and purposes. 

Your professor glanced between you two, clearly noticing the oddity of the image but purposefully choosing to ignore it. 

“I noticed that both of you submitted first drafts for your paper, and at first I thought it was an accident, until I opened both files and realized you’re writing completely separate papers. Care to explain?” 

“Yeah y/n, care to explain?” What a fucking dicktard. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you wracked your brain for some feasible excuse. “Well,” but nothing came to mind… oh fuck it, “we’ve had issues working with each other.” 

Dr. Zhang raised an eyebrow cautiously. “Elaborate.”

“We really don’t get along.”

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Well you’re gonna have to try to find some middle ground. I’ll give you two a second chance to put a first draft together. If you can submit a collaborative piece by midnight, I’ll still give you full credit for that part. If not, it stays as a zero. Subsequently, you will keep getting zeroes for the following checkpoints if you submit them separately. Any questions?” 

“No, sir,” much to your surprise, that was the first moment thus far wherein both you and Hyunjin were on the same wavelength. 

“Good, that is all.” 

You felt like two negatively charged magnets as you walked side by side up the aisle to the exit. “I’m not getting a zero for this,” Hyunjin spoke up. 

You rolled your eyes. “At least we can agree on that.”

As the cold, crisp air of the outside refreshed your nerves, he lightly gripped your shoulder, swerving you to face him. “Look, I know we’re like oil and water, but I’m willing to at least try to get along for the grade.” His fingers trembled on your shoulder; his teeth lightly grazed his bottom lip, eyes searching yours for a sign of truce. 

Needless to say, the sentiment from him was unexpected. You exhaled deeply, brushing his hand from you. “Fine.”

<><><><><><><> 

But two hours spent alone in a library study room proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated. Trying to work together felt like pulling teeth - a true collaboration of absolute vexation.  

“What about this passage?” You pointed to some text in a book you were sifting through. 

He swiveled his chair around, only looking at your find for a solid half a second before, turning back around. “Nah, that’s not good enough to use as evidence.” 

“What the fuck, Hyunjin? You didn’t even read it.”

“I didn’t have to. I assumed whatever you found was as subpar as everything else you’ve ‘found.’”

You dropped the book on the table with a loud plonk, partially in shock at what he said and partially due to a natural tendency to want to irritate him. “Well let’s see what you ‘found,’” leaning over the table in a relaxed manner, carrying a dash of nonchalance as you scrolled through his writing. “You call this good evidence?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” You wanted to laugh at his defensive tone. 

“It’s obvious that you’re framing your own narrative by taking shit outta context. Not to mention all the ellipses and brackets are terrifically horrendous, visually. You’re taking literally all the credibility out.” 

“What do you know? I doubt you even read that article,” he dismissed your legitimate critique in a manner you unfortunately predicted. 

“As a matter of fact, I did… two. hours. ago. And you told me the article didn’t seem ‘reliable’ enough for you, but here you are… you must think I’m fucking stupid.” 

The side of his lips curved up in the slightest smirk. “Not true, I think you’re annoyingly absentminded.” 

You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time in the past minute, whispering, “fucking cockmaggot,” under your breath, diverting your attention back to your screen. 

“What did you just say?” His tone suggested he wasn’t being rhetorical - he really didn’t hear you. There was something cute and innocent about his ignorance, the way his lips formed a subtle pout unintentionally, nose wrinkling in distaste. You mentally shook the image from your head, cursing yourself for thinking he was… ‘cute’ to begin with. 

“Nothing, My Liege, nothing at all,” mocking sarcasm spilled from your lips as you parted them to give them a disapproving smack. “This is complete shit; we can’t submit this.”

Hyunjin slammed his laptop closed, standing up abruptly. The action took you by surprise, making your neck shudder in a startle. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. Why do you have to be so fucking difficult?” Pent up rage was slathered all over his face, eyes twitching, eyebrows tightly knitting together, jaw unhinging from an excess of epinephrine. 

His anger diffused to you, violently charging your nerves. There was no way you were just gonna take his shit sitting down. “Why do you,” you stood up, chair rocking back from the velocity of your limbs, “have to be,” you turned around and gripped his collar with both hands, “such an insufferable asshole?” 

He was dumbfounded, wordless much to your satisfaction, but his eyes were unwavering, devoid of reaction. The time you spent stabbing each other with your unfaltering gazes felt like a goddamn eternity, tension coarse, sinfully tangible on your skin. 

It was fucking stifling. 

Before you even realized what was happening, your lips were latched together in a fervent frenzy, tension thickening for an entirely different reason now. 

There was something so breathtaking about the way his lips tightened against yours - literally. It felt like he was siphoning your soul from your body - any thought that dared to grace your mind oddly dissolved into nothingness as Hyunjin molded your lips into submission, tongue colonizing your oral cavity in an authoritative manner that was so in character for him. 

Not that you gave a fuck. 

His hands aggressively tugged at your waist; the impact of your body crashing onto his sent pangs up your spine, and in seconds, your back thudded against the wall, maintaining the momentum. You had to grip his shoulders purely for support, and definitely not because you were immersing in the moment.

You felt his grip loosen as his hands roamed downward, playfully drawing patterns on your skin with his fingers en route. And then they constricted around your thighs, lifting them up to his hips, and you hooked your ankles around his back as if it was the natural thing to do. 

The fabric of his pants became taut around the building frustration underneath, becoming oh so apparent to you when he started steady grinding against the thin fabric of your underwear - why did you have to wear a skirt today of all days?

You passed a reluctant whimper through his lips, wholly unable to deny the way your pulsing desire radiated heat through your core at the increasing friction. 

You broke away from the kiss, gasping. “Hyunjin…” you whispered almost breathlessly, desperation filling you as he continued his tantalizing test of your patience. 

“Hmmm?” There it was: that signature smug grin, but by this point, your senses were too preoccupied to even register it. 

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Is that so?” He lifted you off the wall, pushing your laptops to either side so he could lay you on the table, spreading your legs to give him clear sight of your dampening sex. He snickered. “You look much better like this…” While ghosting one hand around your inner thighs, conveniently avoiding the place you needed him the most, he undid the button and zipper of his jeans with the other, sliding them down to his knees. 

You found yourself licking your lips at the silhouette of his bulge, now more prominent with less restricting fabric. Of course, he noticed; “so these are you true colors… I never would’ve thought you were such a dirty girl.” He brushed his fingers over the waistband of your underwear. “Where do you need me?” He pressed his thumb on your clit, “here?” 

Your teeth pressed down on your lips in an effort to stifle a moan. “Yes…” and even though you were successful the first time, there was no stopping the sounds from seeping through your lips when Hyunjin slammed his clothed erection on you once more, picking up exactly where he left off just moments ago. 

“Please, Hyunjin…” he pushed your thighs further apart, keeping them in place. 

“‘Please,’ what?” 

“I need you inside me, please.” 

His sinister laugh filled the small room. “I don’t know if you deserve it.” 

“Fucking asswipe.” 

“Now that doesn’t sound very convincing…” 

You groaned in pleasurable displeasure. “Hyunjin… please, I’m begging you. I really can’t take this.” 

“Don’t you care if someone tries to come in?” He raised an eyebrow, partially in curiosity, mostly in amusement. 

You glared right into his eyes. “No.” 

He shook his head, clicking his tongue as he stood back. “Get up.” Any urge you had to defy him before was long gone; you did as he asked and he harshly turned you around by your waist, pushing you toward one of the windows. 

While pushing you down against the glass with one hand, he reached in his front pocket with the other, grabbing a condom. He ripped the packaging with his teeth, skillfully sliding his boxers down to slip the vinyl over him. 

Not wanting to wait any longer, you aided him by pulling your panty down leaving yourself completely exposed for his taking, and you quickly pushed your hands on the glass, bracing yourself for the next few seconds, but nothing could’ve prepared you for that stretch that came. Your wrist slid down on the window pane to bite back a scream. 

“So tight.” 

 ><><><><><><><

A/N I’mma be honest: I had a fucking field day coming up with all those weird insults

[anika-ann]

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader    Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit? 

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”  

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”  

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn��t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.  

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.  

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

[fvrxdrm]

Hey do you still do requests for Leon Kennedy Re2? I was gonna ask about an NSFW but a little rendezvous to a hotel or something, thank you for reading this

Resting? What the Fuck is That??? (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Pairing: RE2make!Leon x F!reader

Warning(s): NSFW

+++++++++++++++++

      “Y/N!”

      A leather-gloved hand clasped onto your wrist as Leon pulled you into the darkened lobby of a hotel you both agreed to meet up at after getting separated. The force he inserted made you stumble a bit but thank God it wasn’t enough to make you fall onto the ground that was painted with blood and grime or else... Yikes!

      The young man in front of you slammed the door shut with so much intensity that you were sure all of the undead that chased you down flew across the country before pulling a bookshelf to use it as a barricade while you rest up for a little while.

      “Man, that was close!” You exclaimed. Your heart was pounding so much and your lungs were burning and begging for air with all the running you’ve done that your upper body didn’t have a choice but to bend down and let your knees support your arms.

      “Yeah. Are you okay, though?” Leon asked as he took a few steps towards you and caressed your back with the hand that wasn’t holding Matilda. You held one of your own ones up as a signal for him to let you take a breather before doing anything else and replied to his question.

      “Yeah, just…just give me a second.”

      “It’s okay. That room right there is clear. We can rest up in there for a bit.”

      “You sure we’ll only rest in there?” You tilted your head towards his direction with a teasing smirk playing on your lips. You knew he was vanilla and you’d seen him blush a few times that night with all the cheesy and filthy lines you were bombarding him while finding a way to get out of the city and you enjoyed seeing him get all flustered so you decided to continue your mission of getting him all mushy and soft. What you didn’t expect though is for him to be prepared with a reply of his own.

      “I don’t know. We can do some other stuff if you want.” Leon said, sending a flirty wink towards you. His face read ‘ego’ as he saw how red your face had become, mentally patting himself on the shoulder as he finally gained a point after hours and hours of trying to come up with something to respond back with. “Come on. There’s a bed waiting for us in there.” And with that, he strutted towards the room he was talking about earlier, confidence blossoming all over him as your widened eyes stayed glued to the man who you unconsciously might’ve taught too much that night.

*****

      “Ugh! Finally, a bed.” You plopped down on the soft mattress of the king-sized bed that almost occupied the entire room and ended up looking like a starfish, the popcorn ceiling above you weirdly gaining your attention.

      “Scoot over. You’re not the only one needing some rest,” Leon said as he nudged your foot that was dangling over the edge of the furniture. You turned your head towards him, your eyes narrowing in a sly manner and your lips curling into a lopsided grin.

      “And if I say no?”

      “Then, suit yourself.” Leon walked over to where your legs were spread, donning an impish look of his own, before throwing himself on top of you, the sudden change of weight making you yelp and groan.

      “Ugh! Fuck!”

      “You asked for it,” he remarked, his voice sounding muffled as he let his face rest on your neck. It was getting hard to breathe the more Leon spent every second just laying on top of you and so, you tried your very best to push him off of you before you ran out of oxygen and die because of him.

      “Get off me, you psycho!” You grunted, still struggling to shove him away but Leon stood his ground and moved just a tad bit to get more comfy just laying on your stomach. “Bitch, if you don’t skidaddle-“

      “Okay, okay, I’ll get off. Geez.” Much to your relief, he finally got off of you and fell onto the right side of the bed, his hands lazily settling down on his vest-covered abdomen, while you tried to catch your breath for the umpteenth time that night.

      “Jesus… You almost killed me,” you breathed out as your palm placed itself on your chest where you could feel your own heartbeat pummeling so hard that you thought it was going to break through your ribs.

      “Well, I told you to scoot over.”

      “It was a joke, asshole.”

      “And?” Leon, who was enjoying himself a bit too much, looked over at you with the exact same smile he gave you earlier before torturing you with his lean muscles. You stared back at him, your eyelids getting closer to closing as you silently accepted his own staring contest before you eventually scoffed and withdrew your gaze away from him.

      “You’re the worst.” Your body flipped over to face the direction of the brown wooden door you both previously entered and tried to get some sleep, battling with the paranoia that had been trying to take over your system since the outbreak of some sort of virus occurred. But alas, you failed to defeat that inner demon of yours.

      “Can’t sleep?” Leon spoke after a few minutes of awkward silence. He mindlessly drew invisible shapes and patterns in the air out of boredom, turning the ceiling into a canvas filled with nothing but the imaginations of the boy. You were quiet for a minute, contemplating whether or not you were just going to ignore the rookie beside you and attempt on another round of ‘let’s-fuck-around-with-paranoia-and-fear-because-that’s-totally-healthy-and-normal’.

      Leon noticed your lack of response and looked over to your direction to see your form trembling in fear and trauma and this rang an emergency alarm inside of him.

      “Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong? Is it something that I said? Did I injure you?” He softly asked, his hand reaching over to your arm and comforting you in one of the ways he could. You finally turned around and faced him, baring your tears and vulnerability to the man who just saved you from getting bitten by a number of cannibalistic creatures…again. “Hey, you can talk to me, you know. And if this is about what I did earlier, I’m-“

      “No, I just…what if we don’t make it out of here? I mean, you saw what happened earlier. One of them could get us at any moment and-“

      “Hey, hey, we will make it out of here, alive, alright? We’ve gone this far tonight. What’s stopping us now?”

      “Leon-“

      “No, alright? We’re gonna make it through. As long as we stick together we’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me?” He rested his leather-covered palm on your cheek, tenderly stroking your skin as his crystal blue eyes stared directly into your E/C ones.

      “I do, Leon, I really do. But…I’m the one I don’t trust…and I’m scared.” Recollections of what happened that past week since the upsurge happened flooded your brain; from when you were bitten to when Umbrella found intel on you and started chasing you down town. You were stuck hiding inside an abandoned apartment that had zombies lurking from one corner to another and it was good thing you were smart enough to plan tactics to sneak up on them without getting the attention of the undead while moving around to find stuff that could be useful to your survival.

      “Y/N, I’m just as scared as you are but we have to fight.”

      “Leon, you don’t understand.” Your eyes dripped with more tears, unmasking the façade you’d varnished yourself with as soon as the virus hit and when Leon saw this, he pulled against his chest and stroked your hair to make you feel more at ease. And it certainly did.

      Minutes had passed just calming down to the warmth your human duvet and shield had given off and your breathing had become a bit shallow than before. However, while Leon was doing his best to comfort you, your mind went towards the direction of ‘am-I-going-to-tell-Leon-the-truth-or-not’. If you told him the truth, he would either not believe you and kill you or leave you or believe you and maybe even help get you off the radar atleast until you escape the city and after a good amount of thinking time, you decided to tell him the truth because why not? He’s going to find out either way, anyway. And so, that you did.

      “Leon, I have to tell you something.” You pulled away from his grasp and stared right into his eyes where you could see the exhaustion and pain hiding beneath the not-so-convincing mask of courage and gentleness.

      “What is it?”

      “I…I um…”

      “Hey, it’s okay not tell me, alright? Maybe what’s bothering you is too personal.” Leon rubbed the exposed skin of your arm to assure you and you almost didn’t want to tell him because of how badly you wanted to stay right in his arms and enjoy the warmth he was blessing you with and just sleep right there but you had to. You didn’t want to lose his trust and feel like you set him up when he finds out later since the chance of that happening is higher if you didn’t tell him earlier.

      “Leon, I…I”

      “Y/N, I told you, you can-“

      “I’m bit”

      There, you said it. Now all you have to do is wait for Leon’s reaction while you tremble like a cat or something.

      He went silent for a few seconds, eyebrows crumpled together until words finally formed in his mouth. “What? When? And how are not turned yet?” His eyes roamed your body to look for any vital signs that you were bit and was turning into one of those…things…that were outside but couldn’t find any so he assumed that you were telling a sick and stupid joke.

      “I was bitten the day the outbreak started and…I don’t think I’m going to turn into one of them…ever.” Leon looked straight into your worrisome eyes again, bewilderment written all over him for the millionth time that night.

      “What? How? You saw what happened out there, I saw what happened out there, so how are you bitten and not turning? And also, I’m not seeing a single bite mark on you.” You took in a huge amount of air before releasing them to blend in with the cold and turned your left forearm upward so you could show Leon the damage you did five days after you almost became zombie chow. He took a closer look, getting as much visual details as possible to prove or deny that what you had was a bite mark. But as he further inspected the injury, he saw that it was not a bite mark but was actually a burn of some sort. “Y/N, what the fuck? This is a burn not a bite mark.”

“Yeah, I did that. Five days after I was bitten, I decided it would be a great idea to cover the bite by burning it.” You chuckled. “Stupid, I know.”

      “If you’re immune, then, why are you scared?”

       “Umbrella. I-it’s a pharmaceutical company that claimed responsible for the attack, I believe. And now, they’re after me, probably to make more of that trench coat and fedora bitch or something.” And with that, silence took over you again, giving Leon enough time to process the information he just got from you and scheme a plan for you two to get out of the city without running into any workers from said pharmaceutical company. But when you noticed how he was stressing himself out for you, you took his hand in yours and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead to snap him out of his trance. It was sweet how he cared about you so much, but you didn’t want him to forget about himself. And besides, you could take care of yourself. You would always have each other’s back, especially in a situation like this.

      “Somebody’s after me. I don’t know what they want but…I’ve been hiding from them these past few days.” At that point, Leon had become more concerned for your safety than before, making a mental note to not separate with you ever again.

"Who?"

      “Leon, you don’t have to think too much, okay? All I’m asking you to do is to never leave my side and I will never leave yours. We’re a team, remember?” The said man lifted his gaze from your feet and let his own eyes linger on your face for a minute until he suddenly felt the urge to touch your forehead with his and chuckled.

      “Funny how you’re the one telling me stuff like that now.”

      “Well, we need each other’s reassurance, don’t we?”

      “Yeah, we do.” Small smiles were drawn on both of your lips, taking in the beauty of the light you both found while finding ways to dodge the undead and get out of the city alive. The presence you provided was enough to contribute to the solace you were both begging the heavens above for since the two of you got involved into the mayhem unwillingly and you treasured that every step of the way, promising to never leave and forget about each other once you had escaped the ghost of a town called Raccoon City and none of you were planning on breaking that no matter how easy or hard it was. You saw each other as gifts and you thanked the other for giving them to you. Words may not be enough but actions are so you two decided to thank the other by showing the desire and feelings you had caught along the way.

      “Please…kiss me, Leon,” you whispered, the warmness in your breath tickling against his lips, therefore sending more jolts of lust and tingles down to his crotch.

      “Wouldn’t ever object to that.” And with that, Leon pressed his lips against yours.

      The kiss was slow and uncertain at first, testing the waters to see if the other would pull back and regret the decision they had made. But once a few minutes had passed and nobody was pulling back, your hands grabbed onto each other’s body and pulled to bring yourselves closer to the point where you were certain that you could feel even the smallest details that formed you two before Leon made himself comfortable on top of you without breaking the fiery hot kiss.

      You eventually felt the need to take in some air and so you pulled away and watched as Leon removed every single article of his police uniform, only straddling you with his boxers that were barely making his hardened length unseen by you.

      “Please, tell me you want this, too,” Leon pleaded, his palms resting on your sides.

      “I want you, Leon…so badly.” And that was enough for Leon to take all of your clothes except for your panties that were surely ruined by your own arousal and pressing his mouth back onto yours, exploring your slick cavern with his tongue and melding your saliva with his. Your hands work their way around his body, feeling each crevasse, each line along his perfect physique while his ventured over yours, exploring as much region of your body as he could.

      The way his lips painted your body felt so surreal but at the same time…natural. It was like he was writing a beautiful poem with your skin as his paper, an unspoken story worthy to be told. Who would’ve thought that such a wonderful tale could be made inside the horrors of your future past?

      Usually, when people read and write stories like these, all they could focus on were the fear and trauma that each character had endured throughout the book. It was very rare for us to focus on the bond and comfort that they had gained and most of them were poorly written and delivered. But Leon, he knew what he was telling. He was certain about his invisibly/visibly written confession to you and that showed on the way his gentle touches were affecting you.

      He held his length in his hand, slowly stroking to spread the pre-cum that dripped from his slit before entering inside your heat carefully, making sure not to let his own excitement take over him and end up hurting you, and moans were immediately released from your mouths.

      Leon took his time and let you adjust to his surprisingly huge size before slowly mimicking a backward and forward motion and he abruptly pressed his lips on yours to muffle both of your sounds to avoid attracting any unwanted guests.

      “Leon,” you whimpered as you took in the pleasure the man on top of you was giving you.

      “Fuck!” His movements started pick its pace, the urge to scream becoming a hard task to do as Leon repeatedly stroked the root of your clit and he was struggling himself at how tight and wet you were. You for sure knew that a puddle of your nectar was pooling on the mattress and the thought of someone who thought it was a great idea to come back here to investigate shit amused you so much that you would’ve laughed if Leon hadn’t rammed himself inside of you as his orgasm took control of his body, causing you to come closer to your peak. And with one last thrust, he released his seed inside of you while your warmth coated his cock, the delicious sensation causing you to arched your back and Leon to squeeze his eyes shut.

     Fuck, that was good!

     “Shit! I thought I was gonna die right there,” you panted. “I thought Officer Leon Kennedy was vanilla.”

      “Well, to be fair, with a body like yours? Who wouldn’t lose their innocence,” he slyly remarked, a snarky wink perfectly ending his cheesy sentence.

      “Sure, Leon. Come here.” You reached your arms up to wrapped them around his body that was coated with perspiration before pecking his lips once he had leaned down to your level.

      “Well, shall we get a move on?”

      “Lead the way, super cop.”

+++++++++++++++++

I did not intend this to be this long and I wrote this, like, in three days bc my laziness is really tempting XD. Hope you enjoyed this though.

[voltagesmutter]

Obey Me: Beelzebub - A kinky Secret Santa gift exchange.

Fandom: Obey Me Pairing: Beelzebub x MC (F) Prompt: 4th December - A kinky Secret Santa gift exchange. From @voltage-vixen​ christmas list. Warning: Sex-toys, Mammon Idiocy. Notes: For my raffle winner 6 @buzzybeebee​​​ - Thank you again for entering.

Torn wrapping paper lay in bundles on the floor, empty glasses of demonus sat upon the table whilst the sound of laughter filled the room. 

“Oh this one is small!” Asmo’s voice squealed as he picked up the little parcel beneath the tree. Written in gold letters was her name, Asmo turning and holding it out to her, ‘It’s for you!”. 

When Lucifer had banned secret santa, Asmo had the ingenious idea of having a secret ‘Adult secret santa’. “It’s not the same as secret santa” he had pouted whenever someone said no, but in the end all of his brothers had come around. Of course Lucifer had found out about it, but was too busy with work to care anymore. 

So far Mammon had received gold condoms, the gift from the girl had made him go redder than the red spider stew they had had for lunch. Satan had been given a ‘New position of the Day’ calendar and Leviathan had been given two stress balls in the shape of boobs with a ‘closest ya'll get to the real things’ note attached.  

“I’m so excited!” She laughed, tearing away the paper, only for her eyes to widen at what was wrapped inside. All eyes focused on her as they questioned what she had. A tubed plastic lipstick. Only it wasn’t for the lips on her face...

“Tsch! What even is it!” Mammon grabbing the lipstick and waving it about in the air.

“Mammon! Stop it!” Her face burning up as she reached for it. Mammon rolled his eyes as he held it close to his face.

“It’s just a lipstick, what's so wrong with it,” He tutted. “Not very adult compared to the tit squeezers I got for Levi,”.

“I knew they were from you!” Levi threw one at his head from the other side of the circle they were sitting in. Mammon growled, ready to retaliate as the young girl tried hopelessly once more to get back the item. 

“Hey! There’s a hole in this, it’s broken! Where’s the colour at,” He swiped the red against his hand, not realising it was plastic. Asmo snickered, snorting as he was unable to hold in his laughter at the situation. 

“Mammon, please just-!” She squealed, reaching out but it was too late. Mammon twisted the base and the sound of buzzing filled the air. She was mortified. Mammon’s face went even redder than hers, looking between the vibrating lipstick in his hand then at her before quickly throwing it at her. The toy vibrated in her lap as she turned it off and shoved in her jacket pocket.

-

The rest of the night ended rather quickly, Beel, Belphegor and Asmo all opening their presents in record time. Mammon not saying a word the rest of the night. It was unclear who had who for the gifts, the group dispersing after the final gifts had been opened. A bag of gummies in the shape of dicks for Beel, a grow your own pair of boobs for Belph and some penis shaped straws for Asmo. 

The young girl has wracked her brain over who had gifted her the toy, determined it was Asmo. Mammon could barely look her in the eye with embarrassment. Although some strange behaviour from Beel did make her question if he knew the culprit. Normally, he would come grab her at midnight to get “second dinner” but really she just went to sit and talk to him whilst he snacked on a second helping of food. The pair growing fond of each other, becoming closer as they conversed over deep-late night talks. But tonight, she heard his footsteps past her room as he wandered to the kitchen alone. 

“Beel?” She called out, walking bear footed to the kitchen, wrapping her jacket tightly around her. The house felt colder in its winter months, shorts and a tank top no longer seeming like redeemable pyjama choices. A grunt followed, Beel hunching into the fridge and grovelling a piece of Demon turkey into his mouth.

“Oh, hey.” He turned, shutting the door as he swallowed the piece of meat in his mouth. 

“You didn’t come get me, is everything okay?” She pouted slightly, taking a few steps in. Beel stepping backwards as she did. Something was up.

“Yeah, it’s all fine.” Beel licking his fingers clean, her eyes following the lean muscle of his tongue wetting his hand.

“You sure? You always grab me for midnight snacks,”.

“I just thought, after earlier you might not want to come.” His cheeks blushing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh.. it’s a shame we didn’t get to find out who had each other.” She pressed, determined to find out who had gifted her the small vibrator.

“Yeah, maybe we can tell each other next year?” He laughed, the girl taking another step towards him, only a few footsteps between them.

“Yeah maybe.” She laughed with him, closing the distance between them, “Ooooor, you can tell me had me.” Beel went red instantly.

“How- how would I know?” He stuttered.

“Well I know I had Mammon, Mammon had Levi, Belph caved and told me he had Satan, Levi had you because he ordered them when I was with him so that leaves Satan, you and Asmo, and I presume you had Asmo, Satan had Belphie and Asmo had me?” Beel’s face grew redder, his face blending into the same shade of his hair.

“I-Uh, I really don’t know.”

“Well can you not just tell me who you had?” She questioned. Beel refused to answer as she stamped her foot in protest and whined his name. He wasn’t giving in so easily and she needed to use her knowledge of him to get him to talk. She opened the fridge and grabbed the first thing she saw.

“Tell me or the pudding gets it!” Holding a plate in her hand with plummed toad pudding on it, ready to tip it into the sink. Beel’s face lit up with horror as he went to step forward, her free hand pushing out against his chest in an attempt to stop him.

“___” He mustered, his lip trembling at the plate, his eyes darting between it and her eyes. 

“One chance Beelzebub.” Her tone was strict. It felt like time had stopped as Beel grumbled. Wasting food to him was a sin of its own kind, even though he towered over the girl, her action held more power than the physical strength of him. She had him trapped, right where she wanted him.

“I!” He reached out but her hand titled, a crumb falling from the plate making him whine. “Okay alright, yes, I had you! It was you,” It was her turn to go red, freezing on the spot as he never thought it would be Beel who had brought her the toy.

“I- overheard you last week talking to Asmo, about how long it has been since ya… figured it could help with the situation,” Beel refusing to look her in the eye, instead focusing on the plate in her hand. He slowly leaned forward, wrapping his hand around hers as he pried the plate away from her and set it down gently on the surface beside them. 

“I see.” Slowly lowering her arm, an awkward silence settling between them. “And… and did you hear anything else in that conversation?” The look he gave her told her his answer, he had indeed heard her telling Asmo how she wanted Beel to eat her like he did a serving of food. Of course she said it jokingly, but she still meant it. “R-right, well I’ll.. I’ll leave you too it.”

As she turned to take her leave, out of sheer embarrassment, a strong grip on her lower arm stopped her. Beel reaching out to her with a small hunger in his eyes, like he could devour her on the spot. “Don’t go.” Pulling her close to him, her hands sprawling out to feel the flex of his muscles beneath his top. “I could.. always.. have another serving of dessert,” His eyes sparkling with the true meaning of his words, pulling the girl into his heated gaze.

-

“What’s this?” Beel had a dangerous smirk on his face when he pushed her jacket off, a small thud hitting the dining room as he fished into the pocket to pull out the lipstick vibrator. “Let’s test out how good it’s reviews really were, shall we?”. 

All the girl could was nod, her hair slightly tousled, eyes heavy with lust, lips slightly bruised from the sheer force of Beel’s lips against hers. She looked positively wrecked and they’d only just begun. 

He leaned down to kiss her once more, this time softer as his fingers played with the edge of her top before lifting it enough to display her perky breasts. A low whine filled the room to have his mouth move down and latch onto a pebbled nipple, tongue swirling and teeth grazing over them. The motion he repeated on her other breast, a gush rushed between her legs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d be touched by another, her arousal making her thighs grow slicker with each passing second. - it also didn’t help that one of the most beautiful creatures to ever set foot in Devildom was toying with her clit over the thin material of her shorts. 

“Beel… please,” Her hands fisted into red hair as he pressed kisses down her exposed stomach, her shorts quickly finding themselves on the floor. Her legs spread to him a view of her wet folds, scent hitting him and making his pupil blow wide open. She was bare and all his for the taking. 

The large wooden table didn’t even creak as she fell backwards, back arched with her head thrown back resting on her elbows. No matter how hard she tried, the moans still left her mouth and echoed through the empty room paired with the light buzzing. Beel cupping the side of her thigh as he stood between them, the other hand bringing the vibrator up and down her slit. He teased her by holding to the places where she was most sensitive, watching her hips buck as a throaty “oh god” left her.

“Do you want to know the best purpose of this?” He smirked lightly, pulling away from her and resting it on her thigh, watching as she whined at the loss of contact. He pressed a chaste kiss to her exposed neck, nibbling soft as she clutched his forearm. Spreading her folds with two fingers in the shape of a ‘v’, he lined the hole of the toy directly over her clit and twisted the base. 

The noise that left her was one that he needed to hear again, the sound of pure pleasure. The hand on her thigh moved to press the lower of her back, keeping her in place as she squirmed, her hips bucking violently off the table. A string of strong curses left her lips, growing higher and higher in octaves until she trembled. 

His name left her in a way that was so sinful, it made him rutt his hips against the table, his cock swelling as it ached to be where the small bullet was. Wood curled as she clawed viciously at the table, body curling inwards as pulsed around nothing. The strength of her orgasm being an intense feeling she had never reached with her fingers alone. Her head slumped forward onto the solid planes of his chest, whimpering highly as he kept the bullet tightly against her.

It was too much, her hips spasming as her thighs trembled. It felt almost electrifying, her back arching to the point she feared it could snap as currents of electric shocks danced along her. Not even able to control the noises that left her, purely erotic as she held on tightly to his shirt for her sanity. Tears rolled down her cheeks in fat blobs, tongue lolling to the side of her mouth whilst drool dripped from the corner as a white heat took over her body. 

Physically shaking, her limbs going numb as she came. The pressure inside bursting into a thousand pleasurable flames, leaving her in a state of pure bliss without the ability to think. Her second releasing soaked the table beneath her, a thick puddle forming as it spread, Beel’s clothed erection resting against it becoming drenched. His fingers coaxed in her essence and the light grey of his bottoms stained, his searing hard on becoming more visible from as the damp clothes outlined his cock. 

A growl left one of them, unsure who, as Beel attacked her lips pushing her down flat against the table. Releasing himself from the confinement of his trousers and hooking her legs over his elbows as he gripped her waist. Pre-release smeared against her as he rubbed through her velvety folds, coating himself before lining up against her. A meek, “Please Beelzebub,” was the confirmation he needed to continue, pushing into her as she stretched around him. 

Beel’s appetite was ravenous and he was still currently starving. The night between them, only just starting.

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[kanerallels]

"There is no unspoken thing between us."

"Well, that's a Catch-22. Because if you said there was, it would be spoken, and then you'd be a liar. So by saying there isn't, you're telling the truth, and admitting there is."

Marvel quote—and you know which couple this is for 😉

Oh, you KNOW I do!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 3,559

Warnings/Tags: Rated G (for the fetching green vest Kanan's wearing)

Read on AO3!

Having deep cover operatives in the Empire was an important part of running a spy network. They gave Kanan some of his best information and helped him sneak the objects of the Empire’s rage right out from under the ISB’s nose more often than not.

But it could be a little inconvenient when he needed to pick up data from them. Because it almost inevitably involved him getting into some kind of ridiculous disguise and sneaking into some place the Empire didn’t want him in.

Case in point, he thought wryly, smoothing down the front of the fancy vest he was wearing over his dress shirt. “How do I look?” he asked, his voice quiet enough that none of the guests around him could hear.

“Ridiculous as always,” Kasmir’s voice came from the earpiece he wore, and Kanan rolled his eyes. The rest of the Yellow Submarine’s crew had demanded that he wear it, partially because they were bored and partially because Kasmir claimed Kanan had a habit of not giving them proper updates about what was going on. So they’d hacked the security cameras, and Kanan was set up with an earpiece. “Otherwise you’re fine. Remind me what your plan is again?”

Claiming a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter, Kanan muttered, “Blend in while I wait for our contact to drop off the intel at the dead drop, then go there as soon as I get the signal. After that I get the kriff out of here as soon as possible.”

As he took a drink of the bubbly drink, Ezra said, “Sounds boring. Actually, this whole party looks boring. Just a bunch of grown ups in fancy clothing drinking alcohol and sucking up to each other.”

“Welcome to adult parties for the rich and tyrannical,” Kasmir told him, and Kanan had to stifle a grin. “They all suck.”

Unfortunately, Kanan couldn’t disagree. The Empire’s parties mainly consisted of flaunting their fabulousness to everyone else, but really just came off as self-absorbed. Luckily for him, this particular party had been incredibly easy to sneak into.

Taking another sip from the champagne glass, Kanan swept a glance around the room again-- and spotted his contact. The light-haired man, clad in a dark dress uniform, swept out of a door, his steps brisk and business-like as he passed by. He didn't give Kanan a backwards glance, but Kanan could tell he knew he was there.

“Alright, I'm on the move,” he said softly.

“About time,” Kasmir complained. “This is incredibly boring.”

Stepping through the doorway his contact had come out of, Kanan pointed out, “You're the ones who wanted to listen in.”

“Yeah, but I prefer blaming you,” the Kalleran said as Kanan moved into the room. It was some kind of sitting room, with a few armchairs here and there, and a small table in one corner.

Tuning out Kasmir, who was continuing to grumble, Kanan began searching the room. The table turned up nothing, so he moved to one of the armchairs. Dropping into it, he slid his hands down the side and into the cracks. A grin spread across his face as one hand encountered a slim rectangular shape. Bingo.

Pulling the datacard out, Kanan slipped it into the pocket of his vest. Cutting off Kasmir, he said, “I've got the intel. On my way out.”

He slipped out of the sitting room again, and a quick glance around the room made it clear that he’d been neither missed nor spotted. Time to get out of here, he thought.

Making a beeline for the door, Kanan paused to swipe a mini jogan cream cake from a waiter. He popped it in his mouth-- and nearly choked at the sound of a familiar laugh. A far too familiar laugh.

Spinning around, Kanan searched the crowd behind him. No way. No kriffing way. But even as he thought it, his gaze landed on where a handful of people were dancing to the elegant music in the background. And his eyes were drawn to a green-skinned Twi’lek woman, dancing with an Imperial officer and wearing a smile he knew had to be fake.

Some kind of makeup obscured the markings on Hera’s lekku, and she was a ways away from Kanan, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Especially that voice, which he could hear speaking in her native Ryl accent even from that distance. Who knew she had an accent? He mused.

“KANAN!!”

Kanan nearly jumped when he heard Kasmir shout his name in his earpiece. “Kriffing-- don’t do that,” he hissed, turning away from the crowd so no one would see him moving his lips.

“What are you hesitating for? It’s time to get out of there,” Kasmir urged. “We’re not even supposed to be here, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kanan said. “I just, uh, might not be back right away.”

“What? Why not-- oooh. Mini kid, check the cams.”

“On it!” Ezra chirped in the background.

Ignoring them, Kanan turned back to the crowd, scanning until he spotted Hera again, still dancing with the same Imp, her movements graceful. What is she doing here? If someone spots her-- okay, calm down, Kanan. She can take care of herself, and you’re not technically responsible for watching her back.

No matter how much you wished you were, whispered some part of him, the part of him that occasionally told him to please forget all of the spy stuff and talk to Hera.

In his ear, there was a gasp. “I KNEW IT. Hera’s here, guys!!!” Ezra’s voice was unreasonably excited as he spoke. “What is she doing here? Kanan, does she know you’re here? Are you gonna talk to her? What do you think she’ll--”

“Kasmir,” Kanan said, cutting off his apprentice, “I’m going off coms. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You’re doing WHAT? Wait, kid, don’t you dare--”

Kasmir's voice was abruptly cut off as Kanan plucked his earpiece out and stuck it in his pocket. He had no doubt he'd be getting a good chewing out over this later from Kasmir. But Kanan also had a feeling it would be worth it.

He headed toward the dancers, weaving through the crowd and keeping his gaze locked on Hera. As he drew closer, he felt his heartbeat pick up slightly.

Hera was always beautiful, there was no denying that. When Kanan had first met her, he'd been literally incapable of speech standing across from her. And he had a feeling he was going to have a very similar problem now.

She wore a dark red dress, the short sleeves made of a dark gauzy fabric. Silver lace patterns covered the whole thing, shimmering in the light with Hera's every movement. It was mesmerizing.

Kanan suddenly realized he was staring. Kriff. Alright, try and focus, Jarrus.

Slipping past a few more guests, he stepped out of the crowd and onto the dance floor just as Hera and her partner moved up near him. “May I cut in?” he asked.

The Imperial officer dancing with Hera looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at Kanan changed his mind quickly. He stepped back, and Kanan moved forward smoothly, sweeping Hera back into the dance.

Hera’s gaze flicked up to him, a demure smile crossing her face-- and Kanan saw the moment when she realized it was him and not some Imperial. “Wha-- Kanan?”

~ ~ ~

As Hera gaped at him in shock, she saw a grin crossing Kanan’s face. “I’d bet this is the last place you expected to see me,” he said, his deep voice low and remarkably self satisfied.

“You could say that,” Hera agreed, recovering quickly.

It hadn’t been too difficult to slip into the party. All Hera had had to do was bat her eyelashes a few times and the Imps were basically falling over themselves to let her in. While it was useful, it did also get on her nerves a little, even if she was used to the way most people looked at her species these days.

Kanan, on the other hand, didn’t exactly have the same qualifications. Frowning, she asked, “How did you get in here?”

“Does it matter?” Kanan kept his voice low as they kept dancing, and Hera had to admit-- he was a good dancer, better than she would have expected.

He was also dressed better than she would have expected-- a crisp olive green dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up, under an emerald green vest with a high collar, trousers of the same olive green, and brown boots. His hair was back in it’s usual ponytail, and he wore a slight grin.

He looked good-- which Hera would never give him the satisfaction of admitting. She would only admit to herself how her heartbeat sped up slightly at his proximity, at the feeling of his hand resting on her waist.

Taking a quick breath, she said, “Probably not. Although I do wonder what you’re doing here, I have to admit.”

“Free hors d’oeuvres,” Kanan said breezily. “Nothing tastes better than expensive Imperial wine, especially when you’re not supposed to drink it. How about you? I have a feeling you’re not here for the canapes, or whatever they’re serving.”

“Not exactly,” Hera said. “But I’m not sure talking to you about it is the best idea. After all, you’ve made it very clear you’re not interested.”

“Really? That’s what you think? I thought you knew that wasn’t true at all.”

Giving him a look, Hera said, “In the cause.”

“Oh, that.” Kanan made a face. “I liked what I was talking about better.”

“I’m sure you did.”

A slight smile curved Kanan’s mouth, and he studied her for a few seconds as they danced. “When are we going to do something about this unspoken thing we have going on?”

“What?” Hera blinked, surprised that he’d actually said something. “No-- there’s no unspoken thing between us.”

Shrugging, Kanan deftly spun her out as he said, “Well, that’s a Catch-22, because if you said there was, it would be spoken and you’d be a liar. So by saying there isn’t--” he pulled her back in, this time closer than she had been. Hera felt her heartbeat pick up again at the sheer closeness of him.

“--you’re telling the truth and admitting there is,” Kanan finished. His gaze caught hers, and he studied her for a moment with those teal eyes of his. Hera saw his eyes drop to her lips, and caught her breath, wondering for a moment what he would do, and how she would react to it.

Focus, Hera, she told herself sternly. You need to finish up here and get back to the crew. Clearing her throat, she said, “I don’t really have time for your flirting, dear. I have a mission to finish, sooner rather than later.”

“What’s your rush?” Kanan asked lightly.

“Well, let’s just say I have a new crew member, and I’d prefer to get back before she destroys the ship,” Hera said wryly. “She’s a little… temperamental.”

“Sounds like fun,” Kanan said. “Alright, how can I help?”

Giving Kanan an unimpressed look, Hera said, “We just had this conversation. You don’t want anything to do with the cause.”

“You know me so well,” Kanan said, smirking. “But I’m not doing this for the cause. Trust me.”

The pointed intonation at the end of his sentence didn’t really surprise Hera. However, that wasn’t exactly about to change her answer. “That’s not terribly reassuring,” she said.

“Hey, you know I’m capable,” Kanan pointed out. “And you don’t have to trust me here. But I’m willing to help.

“Alright-- what are you asking in return?” Hera asked.

To her surprise, a stung look flashed across Kanan’s face. “Nothing. I’m not always looking for some kind of payout, you know.”

Kriff. Hera grimaced, well aware she’d put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, coming to a stop on the dance floor and making sure she had Kanan’s attention. “That was stupid of me. You’re right, and I should have seen it. I know you better than that.”

And she did, strange though it seemed.

“Thanks,” Kanan said quietly, his voice serious for once. He paused, then said, “Now where are we going?”

Hera paused, darting a glance around the room. Luckily, the owner of the house was distracted at the bar. “This way,” she told him, grabbing him by the hand. She pulled him off the dance floor and through the crowd, heading for a door on the far side of the room. Kanan followed her willingly, and together they slipped through the door in question.

The door led them into a dark hallway, and Hera led the way forward, Kanan on her heels. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any other party-goers,” she muttered. “This could be a potential awkward situation.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hear public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Kanan suggested, and Hera let out a sigh.

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not unless I have to. What’s the plan here?”

“I’m trying to break into the main office,” Hera told him. “It should be a little ways away from here. All you need to do is watch my back. Oh, and come up with a good excuse if we’re caught.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Kanan said easily. “Just lead the way, Captain Hera.”

They didn’t have far to go before they reached the door Hera had been looking for, and stepped inside. The office was large and elaborate, with wood panelling and an extremely expensive vase on the desk.

Moving behind the desk, Hera booted up the console and pulled up her skirt to reveal the holster strapped to her leg, holding her blaster and a datacard to download the intel she needed. Pulling out the datacard, she glanced at Kanan, fully expecting him to be watching her.

To her surprise, he had his gaze fixed on the door, and was rather steadfastly not looking at her. Maybe he’s got a bit of chivalry left after all, Hera mused. Who would have thought?

She let her skirt drop and inserted the datacard into the console, tapping at the screen to find the information she needed. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes,” she told Kanan.

Glancing back at Hera, Kanan said, “Well, that’s good. This way, we might have time for something else. Maybe a little more dancing, that kind of thing.”

“What part of ‘I need to get back to my ship before a teenage Mandalorian tears it to pieces’ did you not understand?” Hera shot back.

“Oh, come on,” Kanan said with a sigh. “Seriously, though-- when was the last time you did anything for yourself instead of your cause? You deserve a night off.”

“And it just happens to be with you?” Hera said, feeling a smile twitch across her lips in spite of herself.

Kanan shrugged nonchalantly, a gleam in his eye. “It’s an added bonus.”

“Hmm.” For a moment, Hera let herself think about what it would be like to just spend the rest of the night out. Dancing, food, maybe a little flirting. It sounded fun. Like something she might have done in a different world, if she hadn’t been fighting the Empire, and she’d met Kanan under different circumstances. “That sounds… nice. Fun, even.”

“Can’t let the Empire stop you from having fun,” Kanan pointed out, leaning against the desk as he caught her gaze. “I’ll buy you a drink. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself--”

Then Hera saw him freeze, his eyes going wide. “What is--” she started, and the door hissed open.

“Wha-- what are you doing in here?” demanded a brusque Imperial voice, and the owner of the house stalked into view. Hera saw a “well, kriff” expression flash across Kanan’s face.

“Wait-- are you--” the owner started. Moving fast, Kanan grabbed the vase on the desk, spun around and smashed it over the man’s head.

As the Imp crumpled to the ground, Kanan turned to Hera. “Time to go,” he said.

“Definitely,” Hera said as the console let out a beep. “I have what I need anyways.” Pulling out the datacard, she slipped it back into her holster, and she and Kanan made for the door.

They hadn’t gotten far before an alarm started going off. “Looks like we’ve been spotted,” Kanan muttered, his brows furrowing.

“Do you have a ride out of here?” Hera asked.

“Yeah-- follow me.”

Kanan headed back the way they’d come, pushing open the door that lead into the room where the party was being held. Hera hesitated for a second, then darted after him as he shouldered his way through the somewhat confused crowd.

They’d made it halfway through the crowd when the doors burst open, and an irate voice shouted, “STOP THAT TWI’LEK!!”

Hera heard Kanan breathe a curse quietly as she pulled her blaster out from under her dress. “Keep things stealthy until we don’t have to,” she muttered.

“Yeah, that’s going really well so far,” he hissed.

“You’re the one who smashed a vase over someone’s head!”

“Well, you shot down my other idea!”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hera said, “So help me, you’re going to drive me--”

She was cut off by a hand clamping down onto her shoulder. “Here she is!” someone shouted. “I’ve caught the intrud-- ugh!”

Hera spun smoothly, twisting away from the man who’d grabbed her, and slammed her fist into his throat. As the man dropped to the ground, clutching at his throat, Kanan grabbed her by the hand and pulled her forward. “Remind me never to make you that mad,” he said.

“You’ve come very close, dear,” Hera shot back.

“Have I mentioned you look amazing tonight?”

“You’re not helping your situation. Wait-- are we heading for the window?”

“You’re about to find out how I got into this place,” Kanan said, a grim smile crossing his face.

Releasing Hera’s hand, he didn’t stop in his tracks as he grabbed a bar stool and heaved it through the window, shattering the glass. Shards of it flew everywhere, and Hera heard screams as Kanan came to a stop next to the window.

“Come on!” he said, holding out his hand.

Hera darted forward, glancing down as Kanan’s hand wrapped around hers. A speeder was parked a few feet below them. “Creative,” she observed.

“I’m a creative guy,” Kanan quipped, then ducked as blaster fire zipped past them. Lifting her own blaster, Hera shot back at the stormtroopers who were flooding into the room. “Time to go!” Kanan said, and jumped, Hera leaping after him.

They landed in the speeder in an undignified pile, and Kanan immediately scrambled into the passenger’s seat. “Get us out of here!”

“On it,” Hera said, switching on the speeder and tossing Kanan her blaster. “Make yourself useful, please!”

“Yes, Captain Hera,” Kanan said, lifting his blaster and firing at the stormtroopers that were crowding into the window. Hera let out a triumphant sound as the engines roared to life.

“We’re out of here.” Slamming on the acceleration, they leaped forward. Kanan let out an undignified yelp, and Hera suppressed a smile as they zipped away from the building and into traffic.

It didn’t take them long to disappear, out of sight from the Imperials. Leaning back in his seat, Kanan remarked, “It’s been way too long since I’ve flown with you. You’re still as incredible as you used to be.”

Hera felt a small smile flash across her face. Kanan’s real compliments were somehow much nicer than his casual flirting. “Thanks. Now, where are we heading?”

“You can drop me off up here,” Kanan said, pointing. “It’s not technically my speeder, so you can take it wherever you need to go.” Pausing, he added, “Or we could find something to eat. Have a drink, maybe…”

Hera found herself hesitating, to her own surprise. Because part of her wanted to say yes, which she definitely didn’t expect. Maybe some of that flirting was actually starting to rub off on her.

But at the end of the day, she was working with the Rebellion, and Kanan refused to commit to something like that. And she really did have to get back. “Not this time,” she said, bringing them to a stop at the roadside. “I have work to do. Thank you, though, for your help with this.”

“Any time,” Kanan said, giving her a half-smile. “Until next time, Captain Hera.” Catching hold of her hand, he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss against the back of it.

Hera’s eyes widened, a slight flush spreading over her at the unexpected gesture, and Kanan shot her a wink. “Couldn’t let you leave without a souvenir, could I?” He vaulted over the side of the speeder and headed down the street, looking supremely satisfied.

Despite herself, Hera felt a smile crossing her face. Typical Kanan. Gunning the engines, she took off down the street, heading back to the Ghost and her next mission. Trying to pretend like a certain gunslinger wasn’t still in the back of her mind.

She had a feeling that wouldn’t work very well, though. Kanan never made things like that easy. But Hera was starting to wonder if she actually minded.

[pink-flame]

Lucky it Was Hotdogs

So! This is my gift for the @jatp-gift-exchange celebrating 6 months since the show came out. I just so happened to be assigned my friend @tmp-jatp as my giftee. Which is awesome because she’s awesome. She asked for angst and my first thought was my reputation is just going to get worse. 😂 And then I started writing, started over, changed to a different prompt two more times...had a few breakdowns but here we are! Basically all of my friends had to hear about my spiral the last couple of days so thank you and my apologies. 🙏 

T, I hope you like it! 💜💜💜

In some ways Luke thinks that it’s lucky it was hot dogs.

Of course, if he had been asked to choose a way to go back in 95 he probably would have said old and in his sleep. Or maybe he would have been a smart ass and said jumping the grand canyon on a motorcycle or playing an epic show in bad weather and having some sort of electrical incident (Reggie wasn’t the only one who had been involved in that amp incident not that he was in a hurry to tell Alex that). Contaminated hot dogs in an alley on the night of their big break probably wouldn’t have occurred to him and it definitely wouldn’t have cracked the top ten list of his requests.

But now that he’s in the future, with his band and with Julie and with their dreams once again a real possibility...he thinks the hot dogs would have been the right choice.

The truth is it doesn’t matter how tragic it is that three kids had their lives cut short at the same time it’s always going to be at least a little bit funny that they went from death by hot dog. It lets him use the tragedy as a means of teasing Julie as she bites into her sandwich and it lets Willie give Alex an affectionate nickname that’s only a little in bad taste. It lets Reggie hover behind Ray when Julie’s dad gets the grill out and clutch his stomach dramatically in a reenactment for his friends amusement. It lets Julie look at Luke like the fact that he is a ghost is mildly exasperating but not inherently upsetting, not like it would be if he was a walking reminder of a car accident or the cancer that took her mom.

So yeah, it’s lucky it was hot dogs.

Except...sometimes Luke wishes that it wasn't.

Sometimes he wishes that he had died from an illness or an accident or anything that would prompt someone to look at him and ask if he wanted to talk about it. Because...he does. Just sometimes. Wants to talk about how much it hurt. Wants to talk about how scared he was. Wants to talk about how even though being able to make music still (being able to make music with Julie) matters most it does bother him.

It bothers him that Julie is the only lifer he can touch (even though she would clearly be his first choice).

It bothers him that he fades into non-existence as soon as they stop playing.

It bothers him that he can’t even thank Julie’s dad for hosting their garage gig or show her brother that he’s holding it all wrong when he catches him strumming lightly on Luke’s guitar one day.

It bothers him that he won’t ever be anything other than what he is, a teenager with a guitar and a longstanding suspicion about the consequences of wearing sleeves while performing.

It bothers him that Julie will always be what she is now (an amazing teenage girl with a wrecking ball voice and a heart big enough to keep them with her through sheer force of will) but she will also become so much more.

An adult.

Someone with a job and a family and…

He can’t think about it.

Except he does.

Not all the time but often enough, especially at night when Alex is off with Willie and Reggie is watching tv with an unsuspecting Ray and Luke is wishing more than anything that he could find the escape of sleep.

So usually he ends up writing when he feels like this, seeking out the familiar sensation of pen flying over paper, words tumbling from the deepest recesses of his mind to collect into the shape of a song.

I know I’m being selfish

But feeling alive isn’t being alive

Feeling you breathe isn’t breathing

I just want this feeling forever

Instead I count every moment I’m stealing

“Why are you writing in the dark?” Julie’s amused voice cuts through the silence causing him to jump, a remnant of a time when he had anything to fear other than his own uncertain future.

He’s not sure if it’s a ghostly superpower or just the fact that he had been peering at his notebook from only about an inch away but it’s true, he hadn’t bothered to turn the light on and he saw it just fine.

The dark felt more appropriate somehow when he felt like this anyway.

She flips on the light and crosses the room to sink down beside him where he’s spread out on the floor. He’s so distracted for a moment by just how Julie she always manages to be (beautiful and amazing and distracting in the best way) that he doesn’t realize that she’s reaching for his notebook until it’s too late. He tries to snatch it back fruitlessly as she turns her eyes to the words he has scrawled across the page. He hopes momentarily that she won’t be able to make out his infamously illegible handwriting but his hopes are dashed when she reads out the last few lines in a thoughtful tone. He has a brief flash of affection at the realization that she must be his soulmate if she can read his handwriting.

He’s distracted from that thought though when he sees the smile slide off of her face only to be replaced with a tight frown before she turns to face him, concern shining in her eyes.

“I’m fine,” He says quickly, hoping to prevent any of his dark mood from seeping into the girl beside him.

The girl who has already known enough darkness for a lifetime.

“Every moment you’re stealing?” She quotes back to him, setting the notebook carefully back on the floor. “That doesn’t sound fine.”

He considers brushing off her concern, playing it off, claiming he’s not even writing from his own perspective anyway, that he doesn’t know where the idea came from.

He can do that because he may be dead but the culprit was hot dogs and that gives him an out to make a dumb joke and change the subject and keep things the way they are now.

And if it was anyone else he would have. But it’s Julie. And he’s Luke.

She can read his handwriting.

And she can read him too.

If he lets her.

“You know how you said your dad made you talk to someone after your mom died?”

She tilts her head, clearly not expecting this question. She answers it anyway.

“Dr. Turner,” She nods. “Three times a week for a while.”

“Did it uh…” Luke swallows hard, his throat suddenly impossibly dry considering he was pretty sure he wasn’t actually producing spit anymore period. “Did it help?”

Julie’s hand twitches in her lap and he can tell she is deciding whether she should touch him. He reaches out to toy with the frayed edge of her jeans where they burst open at the knee. The answer to whether Julie should be touching him is always a resounding yes in his opinion but he also wants to let her come to him. It hasn’t been that long since they’ve even been able to touch each other and despite how much they crave it there’s a lingering awkwardness after all the build up.

“Talking to someone?” She asks carefully. “Yeah, it did. After a while I felt like I needed space to sort through things on my own but by then I was able to talk with my dad and Flynn too.”

He nods, keeps his eyes firmly on the hole in her jeans.

“Luke…”

Damn.

He has to look at her when she says his name like that.

He raises his eyes slowly, meeting her soft ones with nerves he can’t quite place.

“You know you can talk to me, right? Always.”

Her question is so small and yet so big at the same time. Such a simple offer containing such a big promise.

Always.

Wasn’t that the problem?

His always might not line up with hers.

He could forget that fact for a bit when the band was hanging out and laughing over nothing or rocking a crowd’s face’s off or when Julie was smiling in that certain Julie way that seemed reserved only for him.

But he couldn’t forget forever.

And he couldn’t promise always.

So where did that leave him?

“Luke?”

She breaks him from his thoughts again and he pushes past his caution this time, reaching out to link her hand with his, their fingers slotting together effortlessly despite the way one of them isn’t really there.  

He isn’t really there.

Is he...real?

Luke suddenly feels a strange rush of panic, all of the thoughts he’s been pushing aside for months crashing through him at once.

He must have squeezed Julie’s hand inadvertently because he sees her flinch.

“Sorry, sorry,” He says breathlessly (not that he needs to breathe, he’s breathless, literally, he’s dead), drawing her hand up to press an apology against the skin there, his lips lingering for a long moment before he pulls away.

She’s not unaffected by his sudden actions, the way her eyes widen for a fraction of a second is proof enough of that, but she’s also determined and she doesn’t let him off the hook.

“Talk to me, Luke,” She says like an order and a request and a prayer all at once.

And he can’t deny her anything.

Not even this.

“I’m fine, I am...it’s just...I’m so happy that we ended up here with you Julie no matter what. I need you to know that ok? I just..I don’t...I don’t want…”

She waits as long as she can for him to finish that sentence but when he doesn’t seem prepared to, she leans closer, squeezes his hand, gives him that last push off the cliff he’s been teetering on the edge of for months.

“Don’t want what?”

“Don’t want to be dead.”

The words escape him in a hurried rush, one blending into another until it sounds like one long syllable of pain rather than a proper sentence. Still. He’s pretty sure the message got through.

“I know,” She says simply, her eyes sad but her touch impossibly gentle as her free hand comes up to cup his cheek. “I know, Luke, I know.”

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until she’s brushing his tears away with the delicate tips of her fingers.

And maybe he is real, at least a little bit if his eyes can still muster up the ability to leak like this and damn it why is that what he’s thinking about right now when the girl, the living girl, he loves is waiting for him to say something.

He wants to think of the perfect thing but what ends up coming out leaves a lot to be desired.

“Julie...I love making music with you. I love y...I love being in your life. But I’m dead. And maybe...maybe it would be better…”

“No,” She cuts him off firmly, gripping his chin lightly to turn his face more fully towards hers. “Whatever you think you’re about to say, the answer is no.”

“Julie…” He tries again.

She’s already shaking her head.

“I don’t care if you’re about to suggest some noble sacrifice or push me away or blame yourself for something...just...don’t.”

Any protest he has prepared dies on his lips, the slightest quirk of a smile taking their place even as a few stray tears make their way down his face.

“Ok,” He agrees simply.

Julie brings her other hand down to grip his knee as though she’s trying to keep him with her by anchoring him physically, making him part of her, making him real.

And that’s that.

It takes time.

A hundred aborted conversations with half confessions and unspoken requests for comfort and love freely given if not freely spoken.

But eventually he gets used to talking to Julie the same way he got used to writing with Julie and singing with Julie and falling in love with Julie.

So steadily he doesn’t feel the progress until one day he looks up and there’s no going back, not that he would ever want to.

He’s dead.

He can’t get around that.

He ate some bad hot dogs, and that will always be a little bit funny. It’s also sad and scary and tragic.

He’s dead.

But he’s also so alive.

He can’t promise always but he can promise as long as I’m here.

And he does.

Over and over and over again.

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 10)

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: You and Tony have a discussion as Hela and Loki sneak around. 

Characters: Hela x fem!reader, Loki, Tony, Steve, Rhodey

Word Count: 1,813

Warnings: nothing? feels!

The New Avengers Facility was by far the most luxurious hideout you'd ever encountered. It was also incredibly large and perfect for aimless exploring. 

The Avengers, though concerned for you once you arrived, quickly lost focus of you as they began flitting about their machines and computers to see what the hell was happening around the world. 

You were given your own room, fully furnished with a well-stocked mini fridge. There was a camera situated outside by the door, so they’d know if you went in or out.

Normally you would’ve protested the house arrest, but you couldn’t be bothered suddenly. You were numb. 

The Facility was massive. It varied from small cozy lounge areas to large open spaces for training, meetings, and all sorts of experimental engineering. 

You were curled up in one of the tinier corners on a brown leather sofa. The rest of the place just seemed so pristine and neat and horrifically modern, no offense to Tony’s design tastes. There was a digital fireplace and heater, yet the 3D projection of the actual fire made it seem real. Only thing missing was the smell of burning wood. 

“Thought you’d have run off by now,” grunted a voice behind you. Tony had come into the lounge. You kept looking at the fire.

“I have no where else to go, Tony,” you said bluntly. Over the past few days you’d been reading up more and more from the news, contacting people you hadn’t talked to in ages. There were a few distant friends and relatives who’d been taken by the Blip, and your heart ached at the ones you hadn’t been able to see one last time. 

“Besides,” you sighed, breaking your gaze from the fire as Tony came to sit across from you, “none of you would have let me leave even if I really tried.”

He leaned back, stretching his body nonchalantly, and you noticed how weary  and thin he actually looked. Dark circles under his eyes, and his fingers seemed to be twitching or twiddling consistently.

“What happened to you?” you muttered. “Why do you look like shit?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, waving his hand, “spent some merry time in space, that’s all. Wasn't planning on being stranded there, but here we are.”

You didn’t ask anything else. Instead you got up, walked to the near sink and pulled out a kettle from the cupboards to make yourself some tea. 

“Okay, let me ask you a question,” Tony said in the silence, twisting in his seat to watch you, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “How on earth did you end up falling head over heels for a psycho?”

You snorted, grabbing a teabag and a mug, “you could ask Pepper the same thing.”

Tony clutched his chest in mock offence, “Ouch. Cold-hearted.”

Grinning, you steeped your tea, and turned around to look at Tony, “it’s not that simple, Stark.”

“No, I think it is,” he said.

“Well fine,” you sighed, slightly exasperated, “she was in my house with me alone, for days. At some point we ended up talking and actually getting to know each other. She opened up to me, and I to her and.. that was it.”

“And how do you know she wasn’t lying to get a way out?”

“She wasn’t. She’d never.”

“But how do you know? Wasn’t it you who always thought you had to give things time? She’s lived for thousands of years, Y/N. You’re a fruit-fly compared to her.”

“Why has this turned into an interrogation?” you snapped. He held up his hands, 

“I’m not interrogating. Just trying to understand.”

“Why did Jane fall in love with Thor, huh? At the time he was a ridiculous, self-absorbed and mindless God who didn’t know how the hell this world worked. Why did Pepper fall in love with you? A narcissistic millionaire playboy who loves to play games and doesn’t take anything seriously?”

You paced the floor as your tea cooled down, fuming,

“Why the hell does anyone fall in love with anyone, huh? Who gets a fucking say in how they feel? And why do you guys have so little faith in me to trust what I feel? I’ve kept secrets for you, I’ve hidden you in my home, I’ve been a part of so much secrecy, and suddenly when I get a little heart-eyed at someone, you act as if I’ve been brainwashed.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a moment. When you met his eyes, they were a little wider than before, looking at you questioningly. 

“In love, huh?”

You blinked.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Uh-huh, you did.”

“N-no, I didn’t, I said I-”

Your face became red, fumbling over your words.

Tony got up from his seat and clapped his hands as he sauntered over to the exit.

“Let’s go sparring, hm? Haven’t done that in a while,” he offered. You tried to cool your cheeks, forgetting about your tea steeping behind you.

“That’s cause I always lose,” you retorted. “You guys work out like your life depends on it. Which... it does.. I guess.”

“Yeah, but look at the state of me,” Tony spread out his arms and did a spin. “I’m feeling like trash. You’ll take me down no problem.”

You doubted that, but followed him anyways. 

-

“Ah, fuck!” Hela swore as another branch tugged at her helmet.

“Will you shut up?” Loki hissed, crouching down and peeking through the trees. “God, you’re even more infuriating than Thor!”

Hela was breathing heavily, aching, grumpy. 

“You really are a pain when you’re not around Y/N, aren’t you? You’re not going to massacre all the Avengers just because you’re peeved, right?”

“Be silent, filth,” she spat. Her brother only rolled his eyes. “What do you see?”

“I thought you wanted me to be silent.”

Hela whacked the back of his head and he grimaced, 

“Alright, alright. Look yourself, it’ll be hard to get in undetected.”

Hela peered over his shoulder. He was right; there wasn’t a lot of hiding spaces or shadows. Well-lit with open spaces, the modern-style building looked quite distasteful to Hela. She pulled a face, both in annoyance and disgust,

Loki chuckled, “I’m glad you hate it too.”

“Shut up,” Hela hissed, before scurrying off further into the trees to explore the perimeter. 

“Where are you- Hela!” Loki whispered hoarsely, hurrying after her. 

She was looking for weak spots, places with no cameras, a spot to sneak in. But she also had no idea where you were, and with the vastness of the buildings she worried if she’d even find you on time.

“Hela,” Loki hissed. She shushed him again, eyes searching the upper floors.

“Hela!” 

“What?”

“Look,” Loki pointed downwards. A little further in the distance outside, surrounded by well lit lights, stood you and that iron-armoured man, both with wooden sticks in your hands, the length of a short blade, thick enough to wrap your whole hand around it.

“Come on, let’s go back, before they see us,” Loki hissed, grabbing Hela’s shoulder. “At least we know she’s here.”

But Hela couldn’t move. You were wearing dark grey sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, and sturdy boots. You looked tired, but were a vision to her. The man with you wasn’t wearing his armour, and suddenly looked a lot less threatening.

Loki watched, amazed, as his sister’s armour shimmered. The horns disappeared from her head and her cape faded until she was only in black, blending into the darkness.

She dared another step closer.

“Widen your stance,” the man said, waving the stick around. “Now try to attack.”

Hela watched you practice, your grip a bit clumsy and your stance a bit wobbly, but you were determined. She recalled the day she pulled a fork on you as a weapon, and winced a bit at the memory of the fearful, defenceless look in your eyes.

“Like that?” she heard you say, bending your knees and lowering your core.

“Good, but stay light on your feet, otherwise you can’t dodge.”

Your voice was like music to her ears, and hot tears prickled at her eyes. She missed you. So much.

“Stark, what the hell are you trying to do?” two more men had appeared. One blonde, and large, wearing a tight shirt and jeans. The other, dark, dressed in similar casual clothes.

“Gentlemen! Welcome to this exclusive defence lesson.”

“You’re by far the worst defence teacher out of all of us, Stark. Y/N won’t learn shit from you.”

“You wound me, Captain.”

Hela watched you shake hands with the other.

“Oh, Y/N, this is our friend Rhodey, also known as the War Machine.”

“Pleased to meet you, despite the.. unideal circumstances,” the newcomer shook your hand respectfully and flashed a smile. Hela flared with jealousy, and subconsciously bared her teeth.

“Easy,” Loki whispered.

The four of you paired up, you against Tony, but watching Captain’s instructions as he sparred with Rhodey. 

You were not held under lock and key, and Hela worried a moment. Did you go willingly with them after all? Did you forget about her? Was it foolish to even attempt a rescue?

Your laugh rang into the night as Rhodey tackled a distracted Steve, and both dread and joy filled Hela’s heart.

“Okay, try again,” Tony encouraged you. You swung at him a few times as he blocked and dodged. 

Then, you saw her in the darkness. A flash of green eyes, and Tony took your distraction to his advantage, swiping your leg from under you and you fell to the ground with a thud.

Hela nearly shot out of the tree line to protect you if Loki hadn’t stopped her. Then she heard a groan and chuckle coming from you,

“I told you I’d lose.”

“Don’t get distracted then, kiddo.” Tony held out his hand and hoisted you up. Hela growled at the camaraderie and slunk back in the shadows. “What were you looking at?”

He began to turn to follow your eyeline, and you paled,

“N-nothing! I- I was daydreaming.” He looked back at you.

“Not a good idea to daydream while fighting, Y/N,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m not used to this, you know?”

“It’s about time you were taught,” Tony clapped your shoulder. 

“You want to learn anything from the War Machine himself?” Steve asked, nodding at Rhodey.

“Oh, I-I’d love to. But, maybe tomorrow?” you suggested, desperately trying to avoid looking at Hela in the distance. “I’m quite.. tired.”

The men seemed to agree and chatted as they headed back into the building. Tony swiped at Steve as they walked, who promptly tugged the sparring stick from him. 

You hurriedly looked around into the darkness, wanting to see another glimpse, hoping you didn’t imagine it. But when you couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, you worried if you really had gone insane.

Steve called after you, and your heavy feet carried you back inside to settle for the rest of the night.

A/N: Life is fucking INSANE. only a few chapters left for this!! Don’t ask me about the timeline alterations because me trying to make sense of the canon and trying to make it all fit is making my brain explode!! I hope you like it, love you all!!! Stay safeee

tag list: @midnight-lestrange​ @cheerfullyvenomous @germansarechill @gaylorrds @amii-nyc @waitingfortheendtocome @novakitten0901 @marvels-writings @jadewestwriter​ @thisisanexistentialcrisis​

[mc-lukanette]

It had been impossible for Luka to not hear about the party going on at Adrien’s house, especially given the music blaring out of the mansion. He hadn’t had anywhere else to go that day, so he figured he might as well check it out.

He stopped, however, when he noticed Marinette lingering outside the gate to the mansion, looking discouraged. He looked around, seeing that no one was nearby, then slowly approached, concerned.

"Marinette?"

She stiffened, looking up at him in surprise. "L-luka!"

He offered her a gentle smile. "Hey. Something wrong?"

She pursed her lips, brows furrowing with worry. Looking away, her eyes darted around at nothing before she sighed in defeat.

"They—they won’t let me in. I thought the guys were up to something, so I came to check it out, but…"

"They’re not letting you in?" he echoed. Frowning at the gate, he added, "That doesn’t sound like them."

Granted, he supposed he didn’t know them all that well.

He considered the situation, knowing full well that he couldn’t just leave Marinette this way, then asked, "Maybe you can come in with me?"

She glanced back at him, hoping hesitantly. "You think so?"

He didn’t immediately answer, not wanting to promise anything without being certain. He turned towards the mansion, letting his guitar rest on his shoulder to look as casual as possible.

When the camera emerged to stare at him, he didn’t flinch, simply giving it a two-fingered salute and smiling.

After a moment, the camera pulled back, seeming not to acknowledge him at first until the gates actually opened up. Luka smiled, giving Marinette a knowing look to tell her to follow after him.

She looked briefly surprised, then beamed and got up to join him. He couldn’t help feeling a little light as he headed towards the mansion with her, vaguely imagining that she was his plus one.

Together, they wandered up the steps, where Adrien’s bodyguard opened the door to wait for them. Luka was about to head inside with Marinette when the bodyguard shut the door just enough to prevent it.

"Ah—" Luka glanced up at him, thrown off.

The man grunted, tilting his head in Marinette’s direction. Luka glanced at her, watching Marinette stare at their current obstacle with the disappointment he saw earlier.

"Why can’t I come in?" she asked. "Is it just because I’m a girl?"

Another grunt, this time much rougher, was the response.

Luka blinked, thoroughly confused now at the concept of this party. He supposed part of it was because he’d lived with Anarka and Juleka - both female - but he couldn’t understand the desire to shut a friend out of an event due to gender alone.

"Marinette’s with me," Luka insisted, "and I’m saying that it’s okay for her to come in. I wouldn’t go in without her."

"Luka," Marinette uttered. Luka chose not to look at her, intent on staring down the bodyguard until he let them pass.

The man stared back, almost squinting at him, then side-eyed Marinette. Just as it seemed like the bodyguard might change his tune, however, he instead huffed and slammed the door shut, causing Luka to stagger back from the volume.

Luka gaped, shocked that Adrien’s bodyguard would honestly refuse someone who was supposed to be friends with Adrien while still letting grown adults in. He couldn’t tell who was behind all of the decisions being made about the party, but part of him acknowledged that he might need to re-evaluate his impression of Marinette’s friends.

"...It’s okay."

Luka looked over, seeing Marinette staring down at the ground. "What?"

She gave him a sad smile, clasping her hands together in front of her waist. "It’s okay. You should go enjoy the party. I’m sure it must be really fun, so don’t let me stop you." She turned, starting to head back down the stairs. "I should be back with the girls anyway."

Luka frowned. It wasn’t like her to give up, at least not from what he saw of her while she faced off against Bob Roth.

Unless… that was it? Maybe she didn’t care as much because it was only her who was being left out?

No. He wasn’t going to let that happen.

"Wait," he called out, careful not to trip down the steps as he caught up with her and gently grabbed her hand.

She stiffened, surprised, then glanced back at him with furrowed brows. "W-what is it?"

"It's not fair," he replied, his gaze firm. He glanced up at Adrien's room, almost glaring at it. "...We'll find a way to get you in."

—————

"So!" Marinette did a small twirl, then struck a pose for him, leaning casually to one side and sticking her hands into her oversized pockets. "How do I look?"

Luka swallowed, his throat dry as he began to consider that maybe this had been a mistake. After calling Juleka and the other girls to inform them of what was happening, "Operation: Infiltration" had become the next course of action, which meant getting Marinette a disguise that allowed her to blend in with the guys at the party so she could be let inside.

And she looked really good. A little adjustment to her eyelashes made them look more stylized than inherently "girlish," while her hat - spun around backwards for flair - hid all of her excess hair. Even her smile had been turned just lopsided enough to be considered a smirk.

She’d also taken inspiration from his wardrobe, which is to say that she took directly from his wardrobe. His clothes were large on her, but that was the idea, as it helped hide her figure and anything else that might’ve given her away. The hoodie - his hoodie - went down to the center of her thighs, while the length of her pants were cleverly hidden in a pair of boots, which was the only thing of Juleka’s that she sported. She’d also used her hair ties to keep the sleeves of his hoodie from extending past her wrists, and it made Luka loathe the thought that he could’ve seen her with her hair down had she not dealt with it in the privacy beyond the divider.

Realizing that his mouth was open, he placed a hand to cover the lower part of his face, eyeing her up and down for what must've been the twentieth time. He had no idea that her looking so different would have such an effect on him, though it wasn’t as if he was oblivious to the fact that his orientation centered entirely around Marinette.

Once it registered with him that he hadn't answered her, he blushed and met her gaze. Taking in a breath, he began, "Ah—"

Marinette pouted, cutting him off by asking, "It's too cute, isn't it? It's written all over your face!" She leaned further to the side and let out a disappointed huff. "I don't want to be cute! I want to be cool!"

She lightly batted at the tuff of hair that she'd allowed to stick out of the hat, inadvertently showing off the black nail polish she'd used to match Luka. "Is it the way I did my hair? Maybe I should go with something else."

"No—" Luka blurted out, his blush spreading further across his face. "Marinette, you..."

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to calm down to give her a reply she deserved. Of course she was cute, but...

"Marinette, you are cool. You're really cool."

And she always had been.

—————

Luka’s eyes scanned the crowd party as he took a sip of one of the party’s drinks. Really, he was just gazing upon the scenery, but still, his eyes never missed Marinette when she passed by.

Every time, even when it was only the brim of her hat, he recognized her. His eyes would be drifting and he'd just see her, casually. His eyes wouldn't stop moving, but his mind screamed at him every time.

Marinette!

He pretended that he was fine. If anyone asked, he'd chugged his soda too quickly and the choking fit he'd had turned his face red.

They seemed full of gullible people; he was sure enough that they’d buy it.

As he looked across the room once more, Luka's mind screamed again, but this time, his gaze locked onto Marinette instead of continuing on.

Because Marinette was standing next to Adrien, locked in some sort of conversation with him. Luka's heart missed a beat at the sight, forgetting its tempo and having to restart from the beginning.

Of course Luka wanted what Adrien had, and of course he was jealous that someone else had Marinette's affections, but it wasn't something he would call a bitter jealousy. He wasn't mad at Adrien, nor was he upset with Marinette. In fact, he didn't regret how his heart sang. As long as Marinette was happy, he accepted whoever she loved.

And if that was Adrien, then that was just the way it was.

It was why he was surprised when she turned away from Adrien and looked at him instead. She smiled, then glanced back at Adrien to wave at him.

Wait. What? Why? Luka was sure that her and Adrien hadn't been talking for long, and if something had gone wrong, why was she smiling so much?

Marinette then headed in Luka's direction, furthering his confusion. Was she... was she smiling at him and not Adrien?

She took a breath as she reached him, temporarily dropping the roughness in her voice to lean in and whisper, "It's so hard making it around these crowds! I’m glad I was still able to find you."

Luka nodded despite how puzzled he was. He looked back out at the crowd, taking a few seconds to find Adrien, who didn't seem at all put off by the conversation he'd just had.

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, "Did something happen with Adrien?"

Marinette pulled back, then blinked at him, surprised to be asked. Nevertheless, she shook her head and responded, "No, not really." She smiled. "He wanted to chat more, but... I told him that I came here with someone, so..."

She trailed off, staring down at the floor and tapping the toes of her shoes together.

Luka frowned, concerned that she'd done this for his sake. "You could've kept talking to him."

"I know." She blushed as well. "But... it's more comfortable here."

He attempted to drown his emotions with the rest of his drink. "Thanks. I’m glad you can be so relaxed around me," he said, setting his cup aside as casually as he could.

She beamed, though her attention was soon diverted as she stared off toward the other side of the room. "Ah! Luka, look!"

Without warning, she grabbed his hand, being drawn towards a crowd that was gathering. "I think those guys are gonna start dancing!"

He let her lead him, both not minding and honestly being fully distracted by her hand on his. Even though hers was smaller, the warmth made it feel like the opposite.

Then, he remembered where they were, why she was dressed the way she was, and what they were currently doing.

"Net," he urged quietly.

"Hm?" She stopped, then stared at him with a slight tilt of her head.

He directed his gaze down to their hands. "If people see, they might think we're..."

Marinette blinked, apparently needing a few seconds to understand. "...Oh!"

To Luka's surprise, she waved dismissively. "That's okay. I don't think anyone cares about that anyway. I mean, have you seen the vinyl they’re playing?"

That wasn't exactly what Luka had been referring to, but it still surprised him to see Marinette brush the notion off. Surely, even when disguised, she cared if Adrien saw her with someone else, right?

Or... she didn't mind people believing that they could be together?

He blushed. Maybe he should just text Juleka to tell that he won't make it through the night.

The fact that Jagged Stone had apparently been in the room since they got there, yet he only noticed when Marinette pointed him out, did not help that thought.

[continuation]

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Scarlett Johansson x Reader : Another Round

4 - “Kiss me.” 16 - “Can you just hold me?” 39 - “You’re safe now, I’m here.”

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,506

* * * * * *

You pour a generous amount of scotch over the ice and set the glass on a napkin in front of your customer. With a nod to him you turn toward the shelves of liquor. 

The bell above the door rings followed by a wave of laughter and joyful chatter. Familiar voices fill the establishment and you look over to the large group. 

E/c eyes meet green and you send a quick wink her way, the blush spreading across her clear skin making you smirk.

“Y/nn!” 

Wiping the surface of the bar down, you whip out a round tray,“ Evans, the usual I’m assuming.” He nods with his usual boyish smile and you get to work making their drinks.“ So, you all look incredibly dapper tonight, what’s the occasion?” 

“Premier. Very successful end to a long era.” His smile is bittersweet. 

Right. Endgame. You’d watched nonstop trailers and seeing as you’ve been following the MCU since Iron Man, you have to admit you hate that this is an end of something. And you’re equally as excited for whatever Marvel has next.

“Oooo, premier huh? In that case, this rounds on me.”

The offer is quickly shot down by the man but you insist. Unsurely so, he picks up the tray and goes to join his cast. Whatever he says has them raising their glasses in your direction and you lift your water to them. 

Just like always, you continue to serve your other customers, sending a server over with the cast’s refills. And as always they stay a little past closing time, your servers having left, and you having cleaned up for the most part. 

Members of the cast leave sporadically, most of them having kids to get home to. It dwindles down to a mere three of them and even though it’s thirty minutes to closing, you don’t ask them to leave. Especially since Evans doesn’t look like he can stand.

Another bell chime grabs your attention and you look up to see two guys coming inside.

“Aye fellas, we’re closing, sorry.” 

The bigger one frowns, pointing to the group of actors in the back corner. The other one smacks a hand on his shoulder,“ just one round.”

Sighing deeply, you nod towards the end of the bar. They order scotch and beer, simple enough to make, so you leave them to it after serving it. 

“Hey Y/n.” 

With a smile, you look over at the two women,“ hello ladies, is there anything I can help you with?”

Scarlett leans on the bar top,“ I can think of a few things actually.”

Her flirting is not new. In fact with this being the cast's regular watering hole you’ve started a bit of a relationship with her. Flirtatious banter slipped its way into your nightly conversations. And somewhere along those lines you developed feelings for her. 

Who wouldn’t though? She’s incredible. 

“Another round being one,” Elizabeth says, nudging Scarlett teasingly. 

You smile over at the young brunette and nod,“ comin up.” 

“Oo Oo, and that fruity blue drink you made me last time.” She adds.

Leave it to Elizabeth to want a blended drink at the end of the night. But it’s her and when she’s giving that adorable smile you can’t say no.

Turning around you start on her drink first, pouring the ice and mixes of liquor into the blender, you turn it on. God you hate how loud this old thing is. 

“-way from me!”

You frown, shouting the blender off.

“Stop touching me!”

Like lightning, you spin around. Anger bursts through you at the sight you find. The two guys standing at Scarlett and Elizabeth’s side. One of them has his fingers running through Lizzie’s hair and the other is running his hands down Scarlett’s arms.

Teeth gritted, you round the bar in fury. The first thing you do is shove the guy away from Lizzie, moving quickly to the bigger one. With a glare he advances to you but you side step, kicking in the back of his knee, making him fall. 

You wrap an arm around his neck and press the palm of your hand to his temple. Then you face the man who tries to come at you.

“Another step and I break his neck and then yours.” He dares to move so you tighten your hold on his friends neck, making the guy wince. Smaller man stops and you force the big guy to stand.“ Let me see you both out.”

In fear of you killing his friend and the other in fear of dying, they cooperate. At the door, you shove them both out, giving an extra kick to the bigger guy.

The breath you had been holding escapes you harshly and you blink a few times to still yourself. You have no idea what you would’ve done if he didn’t buy it. Even though you’ve broken up a number of bar fights, you’d never actually killed anyone and you don’t plan to but you didn’t know what else to do without the usual security. 

You look back at the two women to see Elizabeth trying to calm Scarlett. The blonde breathes heavily, eyes shining with tears. 

“Hey, hey,” you walk over and place a cautious hand over hers.“ You’re safe now, I’m here okay?”

The woman practically falls into your arms, hands clutching your frightenedly. A soft, almost missable cry leaves her and it breaks your heart.

“Scar, what can I do?” You ask, wanting nothing more than to make her feel better.

Her head shakes, words spoken quietly,“ can you just hold me?” 

Not needing to say anything, you pull her closer, arms tight around her. 

The two of you stay like that for a minute, you not even daring to move until she’s loosening her grip. In that time you’d instructed Elizabeth to go get Chris and you order them a car. Both of them left together after Chris drank some water and sobered up.

The woman in your arms backs away, shakily wiping away a stray tear.“ I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize at all alright. Just- are you okay?”

She nods,“ yeah, I think so. I just want to get home.”

“Of course, just give me a second to-”

Scarlett shakes her head,“ you’ve done more than enough Y/n, I’m fine.”

“Um no. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave by yourself, especially not after what just happened.” You frown at her.“ At least let me follow you home.”

It’s a moment before she agrees. She waits for you to lock up and then you’re walking her to her car. And, as you said, following her home. 

Getting out of your car, you walk her to the door. It worries you that she’s still shaking a little and if this weren’t California you could at least chalk it up to the cold.

“Scarlett, hey,” you reach for her hand, tugging just barely so she looks at you,“ I can’t tell you how much I wish earlier didn’t happen but you’re okay now. Really.”

Her jaw trembles when she goes to speak, deciding to nod instead. 

“Come here.” You pull her closer with a hand to her shoulder and she allows herself to be comforted by you. 

Your arms wrap around her shoulders as hers wrap around your middle. She rests her head on your chest with a heavy breath.

The silence is stilling and more peaceful than she could ask for. Being in your arms makes her feel a thousand times better. You hate that she even needs to be comforted. You hate that this happened.

“I’m sorry. I never should’ve let them in.” 

Pulling away, Scarlett cups the sides of your neck,“ it’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“But I let them in.” You sigh.

Her fingers apply an almost unnoticeable amount of pressure to the nape of your neck,“ you didn’t make them harass us. It wasn’t you that forced them to do anything, it was their decision.” She steps a little closer,“ but it was you that stopped them, you saved us.”

“And I’d do it again.” You speak, honestly and care the most prominent emotions in your eyes.

The corners of her lips tug up into a smile and she tilts her head a little,“ kiss me.”

With a smile of your own, you close the short gap between you. Lips meet in a slow, passionate, burning kiss. Scarlett’s hum of approval vibrating through the interaction. 

“Thank you.” Her words a breath on your lips.

“Anytime Miss Johansson, though I’d prefer not to have to.”

Slowly, you break away from each other. You immediately miss the closeness. Not wanting things to become awkward, you back away, back stepping down the stairs. 

Just as you hear her door open you build the courage to spin around and call to her.“ Would you maybe, want to grab dinner with me sometime?”

Green eyes glance away in thought before she smiles amusedly,“ I’d love to.”

[cuddlepilefics]

I’m glad to see you back!! I’m not sure if you are accepting requests but just in case I’d like to request an emeto sick Jooheon with Changkyun as a caretaker! (Can you guess who my biases are lol) I hope you are doing well!!

Sleep well, honey

Fandom: Monsta X

Sickie: Jooheon

Caregiver: Changkyun

Prompt: 'Hot water bottle' @sicktember

No one's POV.:

Monsta X had finally gotten a day off after a long time. Most members wanted to go out and have fun or visit their families, who they haven't seen in a while. The two maknaes however felt tired out from their busy schedules and decided they'd stay at the dorm and sleep in as late as they'd want to, which on Jooheon's case ended up being really late. Changkyung had already been up for two hours and not wanting to wake his friend, made himself a small breakfast before lazing on the couch and watching TV. It was already a bit past lunch time when he started to worry. Sure, they all were exhausted but sleeping this long really was extreme. The youngest decided to give Jooheon thirty more minutes before he'd go and check on him. Those thirty minutes passed with Changkyun unable to focus on the drama he was watching before he got up and quietly made his way to his friend's room. He carefully opened the door just a crack, peaking into the dim room. Apparently, the older rapper was still asleep. Walking closer, Changkyun looked at his hyung. Jooheon was curled up around a pillow, hugging it to his middle. His brows were furrowed, forehead glistening with sweat. Before the younger could feel for a fever though, Jooheon stirred, looking at Changkyun surprised. "Sorry for waking you", the maknae apologized, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. Closing his eyes again, Jooheon shook his head and denied: "You didn't, I've already been awake for a while."

Uncomfortable with the silence, Changkyung asked: "Are you okay? I thought I'd check on you, considering how late it is already." – "I-I've got a stomach ache... Can you make it better?", the older groaned, grimacing in pain. As if to prove his point, his stomach grumbled angrily, causing the rapper to squeeze his eyes shut and bury his face in the pillow. Unsure of how he was supposed to make it better, Changkyun offered: "Well, you haven't had breakfast yet. I could make you something light and see if that settles your stomach." Gritting his teeth as a cramp hit, Jooheon shook his head. "Please don't make me food", he breathed, when the cramp let up. Rubbing the older's back comfortingly, Changkyung wracked his brain to come up with another way to help his friend. "How about a hot water bottle?", he hummed after a few minutes of thinking, "Might help your muscles relax and ease the cramps a little." – "Please", Jooheon nodded, gripping his pillow tighter. Squeezing his hyung's shoulder, Changkyun got up and promised: "Be back in a minute. Hang in there." The older nodded again, although this time, his dongsaeng couldn't see it as he was already out of the room.

As he waited for Changkyun to return, Jooheon couldn't help but notice the way the pain in his abdomen slowly morphed into something else. His stomach churned, letting out a sickly gurgle. Propping himself up on his elbow, Jooheon brought his fist up to his lips and muffled a queasy belch. He hoped it was just some gas wanting out but by the way his mouth watered, he could tell he wouldn't be that lucky. Unsure of what was going to happen, he stayed propped up, which was how Changkyun found him a few minutes later. "You okay?", The rapper asked worriedly, placing the hot water bottle aside to take in the other's sickly appearance, noting, "You could blend in with the wall perfectly with how white you look right now." – "I-I don't know", the older muttered, "It just hurt at first but now, I feel nauseous out of nowhere." Gently pulling the pillow out of his hyung's grasp, the maknae hummed: "Let's camp out in the bathroom for a while." Jooheon nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He needed a moment for his head to stop spinning and for his stomach to settle a bit, as he feared he'd get sick all over the floor the moment he stood up.

Changkyung stayed close by and wrapped an arm around Jooheon's waist, supporting him as he stumbled to the bathroom, one arm cradling his upset stomach. The older already felt bile rising up his throat and swallowed back a gag, clenching his teeth, afraid something would come up before they made it to the bathroom. His shaky legs giving out the moment he reached his destination. Jooheon squeezed his eyes shut praying for his stomach to settle while the younger flipped up the toilet seat. Knowing how much his friend hated throwing up, Changkyun crouched behind him and rubbed his back. He could feel the heat radiating through his shirt. Remembering that he had wanted to check for a fever earlier but had gotten distracted when the other woke up, the maknae pressed the backs of his fingers against his hyung's neck. Jooheon shuddered at the cold touch. "You're burning", the younger cooed sympathetically, getting back up to fetch a cold washcloth. Jooheon only groaned, not really surprised at the revelation. His stomach was still doing backflips and he could feel his mouth water. Swallowing convulsively, the rapper moved closer to the toilet bowl. He hated being sick with a passion and would try his hardest to keep his stomach in place. Slowly he was losing the fight though and it freaked him out. Changkyun could tell by the way his friend's hands shook. Draping the cool cloth across the older's neck, he hummed: "Deep breaths. Stressing yourself out isn't going to help."

Trying to take a deep breath, Jooheon shook his head. His air was cut off by his throat contracting with an unproductive gag, that brought tears to his eyes. Only seconds later, his stomach lurched and he choked up a wave of mainly stomach acid. Changkyun was there, rubbing his back and whispering words of encouragement. Clutching the other's hand for support, Jooheon retched again. His ears rang as he threw up last night's dinner. Catching a short break, Jooheon tore off a wad of toilet paper to first dry the tears and sweat before cleaning his lips and chin. "Do you think you're done?", Changkyun whispered, rewetting the washcloth. The older shook his head, crossing his arms over the toilet and dizzily resting his head on them. Gently combing his hair back, the maknae sighed: "You already felt sick last night, didn't you? I remember you barely ate anything for dinner." – "Jus' wasn't hungry", Jooheon denied, cringing at the vile smell. "Alright, sit back against the tub for a moment, yeah?", the younger frowned, reaching to flush the toilet for the older, "Are you sure you're not done? You barely ate dinner and skipped breakfast entirely. How could there possibly be anything for you to throw up?" – "T-There is", Jooheon insisted, leaning over the toilet again.

They sat there for another twenty minutes but nothing happened aside from the rapper's stomach turning painfully. Still running his hand up and down the older's back, Changkyun offered: "Do you want me to call any of the hyungs for you?" Jooheon shook his head. They should enjoy their day off. "I could get you some water. Maybe if you drink something, you could throw up and get it over with", the younger tried, hoping to find a way to help his friend feel at least a little better. Unsurprisingly, Jooheon shook his head again. He hated throwing up, so there was no way he'd make himself sick even if he would feel better afterwards. After another ten minutes, Changkyun was able to convince him to move to the living room couch. While the older curled up there, drawing his legs up to his chest and hugging his sore middle, the maknae fetched a bucket and placed it next to the couch just in case. Then he collected the hot water bottle he had abandoned on his friend's bed and went to refill it, so it'd be nice and warm again. "You still want this", he asked quietly, crouching next to the couch and showing his hyung the hot water bottle. The older nodded, uncurling just enough to hug the newfound heat source to his middle. It was only now that he noticed just how cold he felt. Changkyun picked up on the little shivers and frowned. Jooheon's fever must have gone up if he was having chills like that.

Retrieving a fluffy blanket from his room, the maknae also fetched an ice pack before returning to the living room. He spread the blanket over his hyung's tightly curled up form and warned: "I'll put something cold on your forehead. Your head must be hurting from the high temperature you're sporting." Jooheon mumbled something incoherent and flinched a bit when the younger pressed the icepack to his forehead. Heart aching in sympathy, Changkyun stroked the other's arm till he had gotten used to the cold sensation on his face and was able to relax a bit. "Do you want me to turn on the TV to distract you a bit?", the maknae asked, reaching for the remote. He couldn't just let his friend wither in pain. Though he didn't get a reply, he turned on a random drama that was playing, making sure the volume was just loud enough to understand. After a few minutes, Jooheon opened his eyes and glanced at the TV too. If he couldn't sleep anyway, a distraction didn't sound too bad. In the beginning, the background noise and distraction were really welcome but after sometime, all the colors seemed to blur together, making the rapper's head pound. He closed his eyes, hoping to follow along with the plot despite not being able to see it. It didn't work and not being occupied anymore, he started paying more attention to how his body felt. Jooheon could feel every slight turn of his stomach and took a deep breath, reminding himself that the bucket was right there and nothing bad could happen to him. He'd be fine.

Ten minutes later, Changkyun noticed how his friend's skin shade looked faded and washed out. Just as he wanted to ask if everything was alright, the older propped himself on his elbow and leaned over the edge of the couch. Pulling the bucket closer, Jooheon drew in a shaky breath. Tears already pricked at his eyes. They finally had a day off and he had to spend it miserable like this. "Ssh, you're okay", Changkyun promised, moving closer to rub the other's back. The older choked out a sob before ducking his head into the bucket with a forceful retch. Changkyun patted his back as he coughed up a wave of sick. Considering it was mostly stomach acid and bile, Jooheon's throat burned making it incredibly painful to take in a breath. Before he could really recover from the first wave, his stomach lurched again and the younger cringed at the wet splattering noise. Changkyun could feel his own stomach clench and looked away but his hand never stopped drawing soothing circles onto his hyung's back.

Exhausted, Jooheon flopped onto his back, his arm draped over his face as he tried to recover from the exertion. "I'll get you some water. You don't have to drink immediately but maybe rinse your mouth", Changkyun hummed, placing the icepack back onto his friend's forehead before getting up and making his way to the kitchen. When he returned, the older seemed almost asleep but groaned quietly when the maknae rubbed his arm to get his attention. Jooheon sat up with some struggle and accepted the water his dongsaeng handed him. First, he rinsed his mouth a few times before taking a small sip and handing the glass back. Helping the older get settled again, Changkyun tucked the blanket around his hyung's shoulders and asked: "Will you be alright for a moment, so I can clean this out?" Jooheon nodded with his eyes closed. He felt like the couch was moving underneath him and just wanted for it to stay still so he could go to sleep. With the dizziness taking up most of his attention, he barely noticed when Changkyun returned and placed the now clean bucket back on the floor. The maknae could tell Jooheon wasn't asleep, his face didn't look relaxed enough for that. In hopes of helping the older get some rest, he played with his hair and gently scratched his scalp, successfully distracting Jooheon from most of his discomfort. He was too exhausted to stay awake much longer anyway. Changkyun smiled a bit when his hyung's face relaxed and he huffed a soft breath in his sleep. Sleep well, honey.