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amourane · 14 days

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why can't we love freely?

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: angsttttt, secret relationship

w/c: 2k

summary: you're tired of being a secret and it was time to let theo know.

warnings: HEARTBREAK

a/n: this was initially meant to be for a request and i started writing it and i got on a roll only to finish the piece and go back to check the request to realise i did it all wrong lmao, so i decided to just post this instead <3 enjoy!

The busy chatter that filled the Great Hall was one that you were familiar with, afterall it had been the same for the past few years that you had been a part of Hogwarts. There was a hint of the sunlight peeking through the windows as the early morning bustle reached its peak. Everyone was rushing to pile breakfast onto the porcelain plates but you couldn’t help but linger at the entrance, looking back ever so often to check if a certain someone had arrived yet.

“Y/n hurry! Bloody Ernie is going to have devoured all the croissants before I even have a bite.” Hannah whined as she pulled you along towards the Hufflepuff table.

Her incessant nagging eventually made you move and you dragged yourself towards your fellow house members albeit a little sad you hadn’t seen the person that had been on your mind. You dig into your own meal, stabbing the fruits with your fork and shoving them into your mouth. There was the normal hubbub that surrounded you and you felt yourself melt into conversation with your friends once again.

A voice caught your attention and you immediately perked up at the deep chuckle that had your heart skipping a beat. There he was: Theodore Nott. Quite arguably the most handsome person in all of Hogwarts and, of course, your boyfriend. His tousled hair framed his angled face perfectly with single strands that fall into his eyes. You watched as a smirk danced on his lips as he sauntered over to his side of the hall. Theodore Nott had always possessed an aura that drew you into him. Even when you both weren’t dating you often found yourself staring at the handsome boy from your table, wondering what he was really like.

As Theodore's gaze met yours in that fleeting moment, a silent exchange passed between you, laden with unspoken emotions. In the depths of his eyes, you saw the words he couldn't voice.

“I love you.”

It’s silent but it’s there.

The both of you had agreed to keep the relationship under the wraps, not wanting anyone to know about the two of you. It would cause an uproar and neither of you were sure if you wanted to handle the aftermath of the situation. So this was what it came to. Secret glances and whispered love confessions. You couldn’t walk up to him, you couldn’t kiss him in front of everyone, you couldn’t even talk to your friends about him.

Although you had said it would be fine for it to be a secret you didn’t think that he would still want to keep it a secret after so long. You didn’t want to hide your affection for Theo. You truly loved him more than anything and it had already been a year since you officially started dating. Surely it didn’t matter that much that it was a secret.

"Hello? Y/n? You there?" Hannah's voice pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, and you blinked, feeling as though you were emerging from a distant haze. Her concerned expression hovered before you as she waved a hand in front of your face, urging you back to the present moment.

You glanced down to find a forgotten cup of pumpkin juice in your hand, its contents untouched. How long had you been lost in your own thoughts?

"I'm... I'm sorry, Hannah." You murmured, offering her a weak smile as you tried to shake off the lingering tendrils of distraction. "I guess I just...drifted off for a moment there."

“You alright? You don’t look well.” She reached her hand to bring it to your forehead, trying to feel if you had a fever. “You were properly zoned out there.”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine.” You tried to brush off her concern and you offered her a meek smile. “Just didn’t have a good night’s sleep, that's all.”

Your friend looked at you, her lips pursed, a sign she didn’t actually believe what you said. You forced another smile in Hannah's direction, you silently hoped that she wouldn't press any further

Truth be told, you weren’t fine. The past couple of weeks had consisted of your thoughts rampaging in your mind. The continuous stream of worries that clouded your view as you tried desperately to reason with yourself. It wasn’t a huge issue that your relationship with the Slytherin was a secret but gradually what were stupid thoughts now turned into ones that plagued you everywhere you went. You’d be lying if you said you were okay with not even being acknowledged as his girlfriend as he ignored you in class and everywhere public.

Your eyes locked with Theo’s once again and you saw the way there was concern etched into his face. Your boyfriend knew when you were upset and he definitely knew that you were far from okay right now. He mumbled something to Blaise who was beside him before getting up to leave - a signal for you to do the same.

“I think I’m going to go take a nap before class starts, can you come wake me up later?”

Hannah nodded and you thank her quickly before whisking yourself away in the direction the Slytherin had set off to. The chatter faded as you walked down the hallway and you were now left alone with your thoughts once again. It was bad you knew but you couldn’t help but feel as though you were something to be ashamed of. Was that why Theo was so desperate to cling on to the secrecy?

“Principessa?” Your boyfriend gently grabbed your wrist, twirling you around to face him and you realised you had been too caught up in your mind to even notice he was there. “You okay? You seem a bit off my love.”

His eyes twinkled with concern and you saw the love and affection you were familiar with and it warmed your heart. You loved Theodore Nott more than anything but the questions had plagued your mind for too long now and you needed to voice your thoughts. Otherwise, you thought you would go insane.

“Why are we a secret?”

It was barely above a whisper but Theo heard it. He knew that you weren’t one for loud environments, preferring the quiet of the library and the solitude of your dorm. You were always shy and introverted, rarely speaking to others. You liked to keep to yourself. Even with Theo you were shy and meek but that didn’t mean you weren’t happy. There was always a smile on your face, a loving beam that would make his own heart stutter. Yet your lips weren’t drawn into the bright grin he knew, instead they were in a frown and he recognised your nervousness as you wringed your hands.

Theo would have never considered himself to notice little details. He had always ignored everyone else around him and he never paid enough attention nor did he care enough about others to recognise the little tell-tale signs that everyone did. Until he met you. Then he noticed every little detail, from the way your nose would scrunch when you tried to bite back a laugh to the way you would tangle your fingers in your hair when you were trying to solve a problem.

So it was only natural he realised that you weren’t okay.

“Y/n we talked about this-”

“Yes I know it’s just that.” You paused. The words were bubbling up your throat, you felt them rising and rising and rising and you were unable to stop. You took a sharp inhale. “I don’t understand why, not anymore.”

“Y/n, mia cara, we’ve been through this. No one will accept us. People won’t understand the love between us and they’ll try to tear us apart. My friends, they won’t understand.”

“Then make them understand.”

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t get it. Was he ashamed? Was he embarrassed? Why couldn’t he fight for you, for both of you?

You felt the tears welling in your eyes, threatening to roll down your face. It was all too much, the constant doubt, the dread, the shame. You had thought you would have been free of these thoughts for a day but who knew that today was when you would finally break.

Your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He felt warm and your arms loop around his body. You cling onto him, unwilling to let go. It was too late to stop the tears now and you felt them fall as you sniffled in his arms.

“Theo, Merlin knows we've been together for more than a year now, and it's been like living in a shadow. I've kept us a secret from everyone - my friends, my family - and I don’t even know anymore. I want to be able to love you openly, without fear or hesitation. I want to hold your hand, kiss your cheek, wake up beside you without worrying about who might see. And I know that there’s issues but we can work through them together can’t we? I want to love you freely…don’t you?”

You pulled away from his chest as you searched his eyes, pleading with him to agree with you. Theo stared at your figure. He watched as the tears he promised not to make fell from your eyes. He felt his heart twist at your words, unable to find the words he wanted to say. Silence. You waited. And then you saw it. The sliver of doubt. That was all you needed before you were recoiling from his touch, pushing his hands off you.

Theo was quick, he tried to pull you back, tried to keep you near him but it didn't stop you from trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“Y/n, please, stay please.”

His voice was a desperate plea, each syllable heavy with the weight of his love. But as you backed away, tears streaming down your cheeks, Theodore's heart shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. He watched helplessly as you retreated from him, the distance between you growing with each shaky step you took.

You shook your head as you backed away from the boy you loved. You tried to steady your breathing but all you could manage were shaky breaths as the tears kept falling. It was all too much. It was overwhelming, the feeling that engulfed you whole when you first met Theodore Nott had spit you back out and now you were left not knowing what to do.

“I-I…I can’t.” You stuttered, refusing to look him in the eye. “I can’t do this, not when you don’t feel the same. I can’t, not anymore.”

“No.” Theo reached forward but it only made you step further away as if his touch would burn you like acid. His outstretched hand fell limply to his side, his heart breaking with each word you uttered. “No, don't do this. Y/n please don’t do this. Mia cara, I love you so much you know that. I love you to the moon and back and I will never stop loving you so please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

“Not enough.” Your voice wavered as the words left your mouth. “You don’t love me enough and you’ve made that clear Theo. I can’t do this, I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the depths of the corridor, leaving Theodore standing alone. Each word you said replayed in his mind. His emotions toss and turn in the turmoil he had been thrust into. You were gone. You left. He felt his heart burn and ache, pounding at his ribcage. There was a numbing pain that overtook his senses as a wave of anguish washed over him. He reached a trembling hand to his cheek, only to find it damp with tears

It was then that Theodore Nott realised it was the first time he had cried since his mother’s death.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #angst #theodore angst #theodore x reader #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott angst

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natsaffection · 1 month

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Mafia's Mistress pt. 1 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x Civilian!YoungerReader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22), kinda manipulative Nat, Oral and fingering (r receiving), restraints, begging, edging and normal stuff :v

Word Count: 4,8 K

A/N: First of many parts is here! I want to post about it every Sunday, so if you want to be tagged, let me know and have fun! 🫱🏼‍🫲🏻

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined that you would be sitting in such a large penthouse, with hundreds of security guards around you who only have one order: to keep you safe.

Never would you have thought that you would no longer have to worry about money, or what you would do if you were running low at the end of the month. Never would you have thought that this one person would turn out to be the strongest and most feared woman in the world.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Six Month ago ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

In the heart of the bustling city, where neon lights painted the streets pink and blue, you hurriedly made your way through the crowded sidewalks, your heart pounding with excitement and fear as you clutched your books tightly to your chest.

The rhythmic hum of the city enveloped you, a symphony of car horns, distant chatter, and the occasional street performer's tune. As you rounded a corner, your hasty steps faltered, causing you to collide with a figure cloaked in shadow. A gasp escaped your lips as you stumbled back, your books slipping from your grasp and scattering across the sidewalk like fallen leaves.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you looked up, your eyes widening in surprise as you met the piercing gaze of a woman in front of you. She stand tall and imposing, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall, framing a face that exuded an aura of mystery and danger. Your breath caught, a mixture of fear and curiosity swirling inside you like a tempestuous storm.

The woman bore into you with a piercing gaze, studying you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, the tension thickening like syrup as the world around you seemed to fade into the background.

"I-I'm so sorry," you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

The woman's expression remained invisible as she raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, her gaze still on you. The silence between you stretched, full of unspoken questions and unspoken emotions. “You don’t need to apologize,” her voice was a melodic blend of honey and ice, each word carefully weighed and imbued with a hidden depth that sent a chill down your spine once again. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of emerald green, had an enigmatic glow, as if they could see through your innermost being and unravel the layers of your soul with a single glance.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

As you and the woman settled into a cozy corner of the bustling cafe, the scent of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you in a warm embrace. You couldn’t help but cast coy glances at the woman in front of you.

“So,” Natasha, how she introduced herself began with silky elegance as she took a sip of her coffee, “What made you offer me a coffee as an apology?” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of guilt once again weighing on your heart. "I just felt really bad about bumping into you," you admit, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "And I wanted to make it up to you somehow."

Natasha looked at you with a knowing look, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, you certainly know how to make a first impression," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "I have to admit, I was a little surprised by your offer." You couldn't help but feel a wave of relief at Natasha's words, your fear melting away like snow under the warm spring sun.

"I'm glad you accepted," you say, a genuine smile spreading across your face. "I was worried you'd find it weird." Natasha giggled softly, which was music to your ears. "Believe me, I've encountered far stranger things in my line of work," she said cryptically, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "But I have to admit, this is a first for me." As you both talked, Natasha's phone buzzed incessantly in her pocket, a constant reminder of the world outside her little bubble.

With practiced ease, she discreetly checked her messages, her expression unreadable as she absorbed the information being relayed to her. You can't help but notice the subtle change in Natasha's demeanor, the way her expression softened ever so slightly as she glanced at her phone.

Before you could think about it any further, Natasha pocketed her phone and turned her attention back to you, a small smile playing on her lips. "So, tell me more about yourself. What do you do when you're not bumping into mysterious strangers on the street?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the question, your fingers tightening around your coffee cup.

"Um, my name is Y/n, I'm a journalist.." When you told her, Natasha's eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, her eyes widening with interest. "Journalist?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with curiosity. "That's.. fascinating. Why did you choose this profession?" Your heart skipped a beat at Natasha's genuine interest, a warmth spreading through you as she realized Natasha was genuinely interested in you. "I've always loved telling stories," you explain, your voice growing more confident with each word. "As a journalist, I can shed light on important issues and give a voice to those who need it most."

Natasha leaned closer to you, her eyes shining with admiration. "That's incredibly noble," she said seriously, her words making you tremble with excitement. "I have to admit, I've never met a journalist before. This must be quite an adventure." As they continued to chat, you felt her opening up to Natasha in a way she hadn't with anyone else. Natasha's genuine interest calmed you down and made you feel valued and appreciated.

You gathered up all your courage and decided to ask Natasha's question herself, "What do you do for a living?" Natasha's smile disappeared for a split second, a barely perceptible hint of hesitation crossing her face before she regained her composure. "Oh, I work in marketing," she answered smoothly, her voice betraying none of the uncertainty that lingered in her head.

"That sounds interesting too," you say in a polite tone, trying to hide your lingering curiosity. “What do you like most about it?” Natasha’s smile widened, relief flooding through her as you accepted her answer without further questioning, “I love the creative aspect of it,” Natasha replied, her words flowing effortlessly as she slipped into the role of the confident professional. “Coming up with new ideas and strategies to promote products and services is a challenge, but a rewarding one.”

As the two of you continued your conversation in the cozy corner of the busy cafe, Natasha couldn’t help but notice the genuine warmth and innocence you exuded. Despite the complexity of her own life and the secrets she kept, Natasha found herself drawn to the simplicity and sincerity of your interaction.

It was rare that she let her guard down and had a conversation without the weight of her past weighing on her, but with you, it felt effortless.

As your conversation reached its peak, however, Natasha’s phone buzzed with an urgent message. Her expression remained stoic as she looked at the screen, "Y/n, I'm sorry, but I have to go," Natasha said in an apologetic tone as she quickly packed up her things. "Something came up at work."

Your heart sank at the abrupt change of plans, but you nodded in understanding, hiding your disappointment behind a polite smile. "Of course, I hope everything is okay?"

Natasha smiled reassuringly at you, although there was something unreadable in her eyes. "Everything will be fine," she said with more conviction than you expected.

Before you could even offer to pay for her coffee, Natasha quickly reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet.

"Let me take care of this, as a thank you for the time," Natasha insisted, her voice firm but gentle as she approached the counter to settle the bill. Despite the haste in her movements, Natasha's demeanor remained calm, her actions swift and purposeful.

You watched in surprise as Natasha paid for both coffees, a small gesture that spoke volumes amidst the chaos of her abrupt departure.

"Thank you," you say quietly as you walk towards the door. Natasha smiled warmly at you, her eyes softening with genuine affection. "It was a pleasure, Y/n," she replied in a soft voice, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

And with that, Natasha disappeared into the busy streets of the city, leaving you standing alone in the entrance of the cafe.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ Later this Day ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Dark clouds loomed over you as you moved stealthily through the deserted alleys of the city, your camera at the ready and your senses on high alert. You had received an anonymous tip about illegal dealings taking place in secret, and you were determined to gather evidence for your next story.

As you carefully snapped photos of the desolate surroundings, you didn't notice the figure lurking behind it until it was almost too late. With a startled gasp, you stumbled backwards, your heart racing as you turned to face the unexpected intruder.

To your surprise, Natasha stood before you, a shadowy figure in the dimly lit alley. Your breath caught as you met Natasha's piercing gaze, a feeling of unease settling over you like a thick fog.

"N-Natasha?" you greet carefully, your voice tinged with suspicion as you eye the woman in front of you.

Natasha's expression softened as she looked at you with amusement, a playful glint appearing in her eyes. "Well, what a surprise to see you again," Natasha remarked with a wry smile. "Are you following me by any chance?"

Your suspicion grew at Natasha's light-hearted remark, your head racing with questions about the woman's true intentions. "I could ask you the same," you reply, your tone tinged with skepticism as you watch Natasha's every move.

Natasha's smile vanished for a moment, a hint of uncertainty crossing her face before she regained her composure. "Touché," she replied with a giggle, although there was a hint of tension in her voice. "Maybe we're just two ships passing each other in the night."

As raindrops began to fall from the darkening sky, Natasha's demeanor changed and a mischievous glint came into her eyes. "Looks like it's about to pour," she remarked with a mischievous grin. "Why don't we leave this desolate alley and find somewhere more.. inviting?"

You nod, still stunned that you've met again. As you make your way to a slightly brighter area, you can't shake the feeling that Natasha is looking you up and down and you speak up again,

"So..." you begin, your voice laced with suspicion as you glance sideways at the enigmatic woman next to you. "What were you really doing back there? Looking for your next victim?"

You try to lighten the mood with a mischievous joke, although the tension between you was somehow palpable. Natasha chuckled softly, her eyes flickering with amusement as she considered your joke. "See through it..." she replied ironically, her voice laced with a hint of desire. "But I'm afraid the truth is far less exciting than you might think."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your mind racing to decipher Natasha's cryptic words. "Less exciting?" you repeat, your voice laced with uncertainty. Natasha nodded, her expression carefully neutral as she met your gaze. "Yes," she replied quietly, her mind preoccupied with the image of you in her bed. What?

"You know, I was... hoping to find someone and I seem to have gotten a little carried away and ended up in the right place at the right time." Natasha's excuse and lie took a completely different turn than she had originally intended. But better this way than that.

Your eyes widened as you realized what Natasha had said and your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I understand." Natasha's desire burned even hotter at your reaction, her head racing at the thought of having you all to herself. What is wrong with her?

"How about it?" Your breath caught in your throat as you fought to keep your composure. Your mind was clouded by Natasha's proximity. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... I mean, I shouldn't have... um, whatever." But Natasha's desire burned too fiercely to be ignored, and she couldn't resist the temptation to take what she wanted. "You know what?" she said suddenly, her tone dripping with seduction. "Since you're already here, why don't you come to my place? I could make us something to eat and then we'll see where it takes us, what do you think?" Your eyes widened in surprise at Natasha's unexpected invitation, your heart racing with excitement and concern.

"Oh, I don't know..." you begin, your voice full of uncertainty. But Natasha's desire burned too fiercely to be suppressed, and she couldn't resist the urge to push you further. "We can just eat. Continue our conversation from the coffee shop.” she said now in a gentle tone so as not to push her away

And when you hesitated for a moment and uncertainty flickered in your eyes, Natasha's unwavering gaze and her energetic tone convinced you to take the leap into the unknown. “But you promise me not to kill me in secret, okay?” Natasha rolled her eyes inwardly, your sweet little manner does something to her. “Promise.”

You had imagined her area exactly like that. Natasha seems classy, elegant to you and so does her apartment. Small, simple, modern. Her interior looks exactly like that. She goes into the kitchen, “Are you of legal age yet?” The question threw you off track a little, was that ironic? Did she mean it - “That was a joke... loosening up, you're stiff.” You smile nervously. Maybe it all happened too quickly for you. Natasha puts two wine glasses on the table and brings a bottle of water, "Take what you want," she leans across from you. You sit on the plush sofa and wait for something. Anything.

"You know, I'm not used to getting to know people." You were glad that she finally said something, so you could at least carry on a conversation now, "That's it. You're going to kill me." You answer sarcasm-wise. Natasha grinned again, "What makes you always think that?" You unconsciously bite your lip and scratch the rim of the glass in your hand with your nails. "I don't know...You...Please don't take this negatively, but you look like that sometimes.." As you continue to babble about your own words, Natasha only thinks one thing. That's how it should be.

Natasha laughed softly and put her glass on the table. "Well, maybe I just like to keep the people around me guessing. Am I a killer? Am I just a poor, lonely woman looking for her pleasure in the night? Or something else entirely? It's exciting to reveal who you really are, bit by bit. It's a dance of seduction...and I like to think I'm an artist in that regard."

You felt your pulse quicken and your gaze fell to Natasha's lips. "I wouldn't mind seeing you like this..." You put everything on the line. You want her.

Natasha shifted in her seat, a devilish glint in her eyes. "You say that like you're ready for a private performance," she teased. You met her gaze, the tension in the room running like a wire. "Maybe I am..." you admitted. Natasha's mouth twisted into a slow, knowing smile. With a quick movement, she drank the rest of her wine and raised her eyebrow. "Well, since this seems to be the premiere of a solo exhibition, maybe I should leave the stage and take a bow."

You felt your face turn red. "I-I'd love to," you said, your breath catching. Natasha rose, an aura of seductive confidence surrounding her like a second skin as she walked around the coffee table. You watched, heart pounding, as Natasha stood between your outstretched legs. Slowly, she reached for your water glass and placed it next to her own, her movements deliberate and graceful. "I want your full attention," she murmured, her minty breath blowing against your face.

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat as Natasha lowered herself and your lips met in a feverish kiss. You felt Natasha's hands brush against your sides. Natasha chucked, her voice glowing with desire. "You're so nervous." She pulled back, her piercing green eyes meeting yours.

"Let me help you." Natasha's hands began to explore your body, her touch like fire on your skin. Slowly, she unbuttoned your blouse, her lips brushing against your neck with each button she unbuttoned. You arched your back and moaned softly as Natasha's lips touched your bare skin and her tongue found its way to the curve of your breast.

Natasha teased your nipples with her teeth, pulling and sucking until you were squirming in her lap and your fingers were clutching Natasha's red locks. Natasha's hands moved further down and reached for the zipper of your jeans. She pulled it down slowly, her fingers brushing against your inner thigh. You bit your lip and your hips jerked as Natasha's hand entered your panties and found them soaking wet and ready for her touch.

Natasha teased your opening, her fingers circling your clit in slow, deliberate movements that made you squirm with desire. "N-Natasha.." you gasped, your fingers clinging tighter to Natasha's hair. "Don't tease m-me.." Natasha groaned and her fingers continued to dance over your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "You wanted a private showing. I'll give it to you," Natasha purred, her fingers dipping into your wetness. She stroked you slowly and teasingly before sliding two fingers inside you.

You moaned and your head fell back as Natasha's fingers began to move in a steady rhythm. Natasha's thumb circled your clit, increasing the pressure inside you. "O-Oh.." you gasped, your hands grabbing Natasha's shoulders. Natasha grinned as she felt the walls of your pussy clench around her fingers. "You like that?" she taunted in a deep, sensual voice. "You like how I fuck you with my fingers and make you wetter than ever?"

You could only nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as Natasha continued to stroke you. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body shaking with pleasure. Natasha's fingers were relentless, driving you higher and higher until you were a writhing mess on her lap. Suddenly Natasha pulled her fingers out, making you gasp in need.

"No, no, no," you whimper, your body begging for more. Natasha giggled, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Patience, I'm not done with you yet." She stood up, took your hands and pulled you up with her. Natasha led you to the nearby wall, pressing your back against it as you lowered your head to hide your noises from her. She could feel your hands wandering over her body, Natasha's hips grinding against you, searching for friction.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Y/n?" You nodded, your breath catching as Natasha's teeth grazed your neck. "Yes, please..” you pleaded, your voice hoarse with desire. Natasha's lips curved into a smile against your skin and she reached for the button of her own jeans. With a wave of her hand, they opened, revealing matching lacy underwear that left little to the imagination. You couldn't help but stare, your mouth going dry as Natasha stepped closer, your bodies snuggled close together. "Do you like what you see?" Natasha purred, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "Then let me show you more."

Natasha reached out a hand to you, "Excited?" Skeptically, you followed Natasha close on her heels as the red-haired woman led you through her sprawling home. You meandered through the luxurious interior, which was decorated with sleek, modern furniture. Some rooms were light and airy, while others were softly lit with lamps and strategically placed candles.

You reached a room door hidden in a dark, secluded hallway, different from the rest of the house. Your heart raced, and your anticipation grew. This had to be her bedroom.

Natasha turned, looked over her shoulder, and caught your eye. "One thing I want to make sure of. If you feel uncomfortable, we can always go back to the living room, okay?"

Her green eyes shone with dark passion. You swallowed hard and nodded. You were nervous and excited at the same time with the anticipation of what was to come. Natasha smiled, her mouth twisting into a mischievous grin as she opened the door. "Welcome to my playroom," Natasha purred, reaching for a dimmer switch that gently bathed the room in a soft, seductive light.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you. Leather-clad walls were adorned with provocative artwork depicting scenes of bondage and domination. A steel frame loomed menacingly in one corner, and the air was filled with an indefinable, dark eroticism. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Your breath caught as you took in the room, your body tingling with excitement and your stomach fluttering. Natasha stepped forward, her heels clicking imperiously on the stone floor. "What do you think?" You look at everything, let a few things slide through your hands and turn back to her, "I've always read about it...but never thought I'd...you know." Natasha smiled gently, "You don't have to be afraid. I promise you'd enjoy it." The voice was hypnotic, her words weaving a sensual spell. You nod, unable to find your voice as you surrendered to the moment.

Natasha moved closer to you, your bodies touching. Her hand reached out, gently caressing your cheek before moving down to her neck and resting gently on her pulse. "There's something about you. You're curious, exciting and open-minded. I want to show you what I like, what I love and what I desire. I want you to trust me and enjoy every moment. Surrender and I will guide you through an unforgettable experience."

Natasha's voice echoed through the room and you felt a surge of lust and adrenaline building in yours. You nodded again and whispered, "I trust you." With a mischievous grin, Natasha led you to the imposing steel bondage frame. She began to remove your clothing layer by layer, revealing your pale skin and the goosebumps that covered your body. Her fingers gently stroked your trembling body, increasing your anticipation.

You stood there, trembling with desire, as Natasha secured your wrists and ankles to a frame with soft, velvety shackles. Unyielding metal surrounded you, holding you captive, but instead of being afraid, you felt an incredible sense of freedom. Your body was at the mercy of this woman, this mysterious and sensual creature in front of you. Natasha moved around you, admiring you from every angle. "You're breathtaking," she murmured, running her fingertips over your torso.

You gasped at the touch, the warmth of Natasha's hand sending shivers down your spine. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding in your ears. Natasha's eyes locked on yours, and you knew that this woman had completely captivated you. "Do you trust me, Y/n?" Natasha asked in a deep and sensual voice.

"Yes," you whisper, unable to hide the desire etched on your face. Natasha's grin widened. "Good." And with that, she leaned forward, her lips pressed against yours with insatiable hunger. Their mouths moved in sync, exploring each other, their tongues dancing with each other like old lovers reuniting after a long separation. You moaned as Natasha's hand moved between your legs, parting your labia and finding your clit. She stroked it gently, sending waves of pleasure through your trembling body.

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut. Natasha continued to caress and tease you, moving her hand to gently thrust two fingers into your wet heat. Your hips bucked wildly, your body begging for more. Natasha grinned against your lips and thrust harder and faster, her fingertips grazing your G-spot.

You gasped, your whole body shaking as the familiar pressure of an orgasm built inside you. Natasha's lips found your ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't come yet. Not until I give you permission."

You continued to whimper and your eyes fluttered shut. "Please, Natasha," you begged, your voice hoarse and desperate, getting closer and closer to the edge of your climax. "No, not yet..." Natasha growled. "If you can't follow simple instructions, I'll have to punish you. And believe me, you don't want that." Natasha's voice was heavy with desire, her words silky and coated with promises.

Your body trembled, your breath caught as you shook your head. Natasha's hand moved away from your sex, making you tremble with anticipation. She stood behind you, her body pressed against yours from behind, her hands gripping your hips.

"Good girl," Natasha whispered in your ear, her lips brushing your earlobes. She trailed her lips down your neck, biting and sucking gently. "Please…" you begged, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. Natasha's hands moved from your hips, up your torso, tracing the curve of your breast before reaching up to gently grip your neck.

"Not yet," she said again, her voice a low rumble in your ear. Despite the pain between her legs, you breathed deeply and evenly, concentrating on the heady mix of pleasure and pain coursing through your body. Natasha's fingers on your neck sent shivers down your spine, the metal frame in your back a constant, comforting reminder of your vulnerability.

You were hoarse, desperate and full of longing. Natasha's lips curled into a wicked smile, her eyes shining with desire as she slowly sank to her knees. Her hands slid over your trembling thighs, gently pushing them apart and giving her unhindered access.

Your breath caught as Natasha's tongue darted out and circled your aching clitoris in slow, deliberate circles. You shuddered, the mixture of lust and anticipation driving you wild. With each stroke of Natasha's tongue, your hips bucked, a soft moan escaping your lips. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, the buildup of your orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. But Natasha didn't let you come yet.

"Beg for it," she commanded in a firm but hoarse voice. The command made you shudder. You were soaking wet and aching for release, but you held back, enjoying the delicious agony. "Please, Natasha, make me come. I'm begging you!!”

But Natasha was relentless, refusing to let you find your release. Instead, she teased you with slow, gentle flicks of her tongue, occasionally sucking your swollen clit into her mouth. Your toes curled, your fingers clenched into fists as Natasha continued her torture. "F-Fuck, Natasha, I'm so c-close.." you whimper, trying to push your hips against Natasha's mouth.

But Natasha's grip on your thighs tightened, holding you still and prolonging her torment. "Do you deserve to come?" Natasha asked, her voice muffled against your smooth skin. She felt like an agonizing tease on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. "Yes, yes I do.." you gasped, your head spinning with lust and desperation.

Natasha's giggle sent shivers down your spine. With one final agonizing flick of her tongue, she granted you a reprieve, sending you spinning over the edge with devastating precision. “You can let go, Malysh.”

"Yes, fuck YES!" you screamed, arching your back as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over your body. Natasha continued to tease and probe, prolonging every last tremor until you were left breathless and limp in your bonds. You stand there, panting and shaking, enjoying the euphoria coursing through your veins.

Natasha stands up, her eyes dark with desire, and leans in to whisper in your ear. "You know what I mean, Detka? That was just a taste," Natasha murmurs, her lips brushing your earlobes. "I want to give you more, so much more. Will you let me?" You nod exhaustedly, your breath catching with every word Natasha speaks in your ear. You were helpless, tied up and at the mercy of this woman. You couldn't resist the lure of what Natasha was offering you. "Good girl," Natasha praised, her voice heavy with desire.

#natasha x reader #natasha smut #natasha romanoff #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #natasha romanov smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 3 months

Note

helluuu<3 i'm in for the celebration, let's gooo! Maybe a blurb with protective Morpheus? Because why not? thank uuu💕

this has been sitting in my drafts for way too long, i am so sorry 💕

***

Protective Morpheus ~. Blurb

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Reader

The temperature in the room dropped when the words were spoken. They rang through the air, sharp as a knife. The chatter around you stopped almost immediately, someone even gasped.

You starred at the God in front of you, cheeks burning, throat closing. Everyone heard it, everyone stared, and embarrassment rushed through when you couldn't think of anything. No clever comeback, no funny joke. And then again - were you even allowed to speak to him like that? To defend yourself? You were a nymph, nothing more, standing in a room full of Gods and Goddesses and Endless'.

You knew this was a mistake.

"Say that again," Morpheus voice was almost... soft. But you caught it - the undertone. It let the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

The God tensed up and looked over your shoulder. "W-what?"

The King of Dreams was gone and instead the King of Nightmares had appeared by your side. Darkness was now seeping through the room, shadows circling the God - the fool - who had dared to insult his lover.

"Call her that again," Morpheus said, staring him down. The depth of his voice hummed inside of you. "Come on. Don't be shy."

You had never felt more terrified for another being and yet, you had never felt more protected.

"I apologize, I... " The God stumbles over his words and backs away, the crowd behind him separating, making way.

"I doubt that'll be enough."

***

send me an ask and i will write you a blurb

#Dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #sandman x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagine

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sinkovia · 3 months

Text

A cruel joke

Kyle Garrick x GN!Reader

A short slight angst w/ fluff and some appreciation for Gaz.

Walking side by side with Gaz, your heart raced. The weight of your confession felt like a million pounds on your shoulders, but you knew you couldn't wait any longer.

You'd been best friends for quite some time, and somewhere along the way, his sweet demeanor and the countless hours you spent together made you fall for him. You'd been too afraid to reveal the truth, fearing it would ruin your friendship.

When your mind drifted back to the close call Gaz had on your recent mission. You realized you didn't have the luxury to wait around and confess your feelings, one of you could easily die before then and you couldn't bear the thought of leaving without telling him how you truly felt.

You had always hoped that Gaz felt the same way, noticing the way he treated you differently from the others. It wasn't just friendship; you knew it was something more.

Amid the lively chatter and clinking of glasses in the rec room, you had gathered the courage to ask Gaz to join you for a walk. You stole a quick peek at his side profile as you cleared your throat, your voice slightly shaky as you began, "Kyle, there's something I've been meaning to tell you."

He turned to you, his brown eyes locking with yours, his expression warm and attentive. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

"We've been through so much together," you continued, your voice growing more confident as you spoke. "And I... I just want you to know that you mean a lot to me." he nodded, an understanding look in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was now or never. "I never intended for it to happen, and I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship… but I have feelings for you...I love you Kyle..."

For a moment, there was silence, and Gaz's smile faded. Then, he started to laugh, a disbelieving sound that rang through the air. An unexpected reaction that crushed your heart. Your heart sank and hurt etched across your face. You blinked back tears that welled up in your eyes, struggling to maintain your composure. He stopped laughing abruptly when he saw the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

His demeanor shifted and he reached out, “Y/n wait.”

But it was too late; you were already walking down the hallway away from him with tears spilling from your eyes. Gaz stood there, his heart heavy with regret for his reaction.

He thought you were joking.

Gaz believed you were playing a sick joke on him. Despite loving you deeply, he never mustered the courage to express his feelings, convinced you wouldn't feel the same. His heart sank as he witnessed your tear-filled eyes, realizing he had hurt the person he cared about the most. Following the direction you left, he turned a corner to find Soap comforting you.

When he saw you walk away with him, Gaz decided to give you space, knowing that seeing him might only intensify your emotions. Patiently waiting until the next day, he found himself standing before your door, taking a deep breath before knocking. Nervousness consumed him, understanding that you might still be hurt and upset. After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing you with a mix of emotions in your eyes as they met his.

"What do you want?" He heard the anger in your tone.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't think... I mean, I thought you were playing a prank on me when you said you loved me, so I laughed, I couldn't believe it. I love you more than anything, and I never thought you would feel the same way." You listened, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you.

Gaz continued, "I care about you a lot, and I would never intentionally hurt you. I was just caught off guard, and I reacted the wrong way… you mean so much to me"

Your eyes softened as you listened to him, and you sighed, understanding the depth of his emotions."I wasn't joking, Gaz. I've loved you for a long time, I was just scared if I told you it would ruin our relationship."

As the reality of your words settled in, Gaz felt a rush of happiness and relief. He took a step closer, gently cupping your face with his hands. You were taken aback by his sudden, gentle touch, and your eyes locked onto his. Gaz's lips met yours in a soft, sweet kiss, filled with warmth. As he pulled back, his eyes bore into yours, and he whispered, "I'm so glad you told me. I love you, Y/n, and I don't want to spend another day without you knowing it."

A warm smile spread across your face as you gazed at the man you had secretly loved for so long. "I love you too, Kyle."

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scarredwithcruelintentions · 1 month

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chapter 3: a desperate revelation

Find the masterlist here!

CW: Astarion talks about his abuse.

W/C: 2,795

A/N: My dog had heart surgery last week... please send all the good vibes for her recovery!

After the arduous fight with the Hag, Astarion wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bedroll. Shadowheart had mended the worst of their wounds with a healing prayer, and your quiet songs of rest had bolstered their energy for the trek back to camp. Once out of the bog, the fading rays of the sun’s light were visible once more.

He paused a moment to marvel at the way they painted the sky in various hues of pinks and oranges, a sight he had long since given up hope of ever seeing again. He tried to convince himself that any day spent in the sun was a day worth having, no matter how fleeting a retreat it might be.

A plaintive sigh escaped him at the prospect of returning to the shadows after being blessed by the warmth of the light.

“Copper for your thoughts?” you intoned from behind him, startling him out of his quiet reverie.

“For nearly two centuries, I’ve known nothing but darkness and pain. To stand in the sun, after so much tragedy and despair, is nothing short of a miracle,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, it would shatter the beautiful illusion he’d come to know and he’d instead find himself a psychotic wreck, locked in a mausoleum somewhere at Cazador��s behest again.

He tracked your approach in his peripheral vision, mentally preparing himself to broach the topic of his past, of his Master’s cruelty. You stopped at his side and gazed out into the encroaching darkness with him, listening along as the song of birds gave way to the chirp of crickets. The stars began their winking, and the ambiance of rural night crept over them in a subdued melody.

“Without darkness, there would be no light,” you said quietly.

He peered over at you, watching as the moon started its trek across the indigo sky just above your head. You glanced at him, and your eyes met his for a moment. He did not expect the sorrow that he found in their depths. He opened his mouth, but no sound left his lips, the icy fingers of fear choking him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, preparing to spill his darkest secrets upon reopening them.

“Come, friend,” your hushed voice met his ears. “We are not far from camp. We may speak there.”

With that, the moment was broken. Astarion opened his eyes to see your retreating form, and silently thanked whatever gods still were for the extra time to gather his strength. ______________________________________________________________

Astarion sat alone in his tent, lost in his thoughts. He could hear the chatter and laughter of his companions just beyond its thin walls, but he didn’t even have the heart to observe from afar tonight. He waited in trepidation for you to come find him, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the closed cover of the book in his lap. Even reading had proven to be an unhelpful distraction.

“Astarion?”

He recognized the lilt of your soft voice and cleared his throat.

“In here, darling,” he called, unwilling to move, lest his legs were to carry him far from this conversation, far from camp in cowardice.

You parted the flaps of his tent with a small smile, a question in your eyes. He waved at the space in front of him, a silent go ahead to enter and sit. You nodded imperceptibly and sat down, crossing your legs and setting your lyre in your lap.

Astarion raised a brow at the instrument.

“Do you ever go anywhere without that?” he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.

“Never,” you grinned. “It’s the source of my connection to the Weave.”

He scoffed, “A lyre?”

“Well, not the lyre specifically,” you blushed, “but the music it creates. Any instrument will do, but this is my instrument of choice.”

“I see,” he said, though he really didn’t.

“Would you like me to give you an example?” you asked kindly.

“Please, be my guest.”

He watched as your delicate fingers plucked a soft melody on the instrument, caressing the tune from them with practiced ease and fondness. The mellifluous sound of your voice began its harmony, and a sense of peace like he had never known washed over him. He was enchanted by your performance, finding it a strangely intimate experience with no one else to accompany the two of you.

All too soon, the final chord resonated in the cavern of his chest with a quiet hum.

Astarion opened his eyes - not remembering having closed them - and gazed at you. The warm feeling from earlier had returned at the start of the song, and had slowly spread its way through his limbs with each progression until he felt light and fuzzy, an unusual and somewhat dizzying sensation. A slight flush had spread across your cheeks and into the bodice of your nightclothes as he regarded you with a soft expression.

“That was lovely,” he murmured, loath to break the tranquil quiet of the moment.

“A Song of Calm for my tense, toothsome friend,” you smiled, voice lowered to match his own.

“Ah! Well that explains the sudden silence in my mind.”

He cracked a wry smile and delighted in your answering giggle. Stillness enveloped the tent once more, and your expression morphed into one of concerned sincerity.

Here we go.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“I don’t want to say a damned thing,” he bit out, rage and fear laced in his voice. You recoiled at his tone, and it took conscious effort for him to soften it. “But that won’t do anyone any good.”

You remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue. He heaved a great, mournful sigh, and began.

“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people,” he said with carefully construed apathy, “The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.”

His eyes had fallen to the space separating him from you, avoiding the questions he knew he was sure to find in yours.

“How were you turned?” you asked in a whisper. “Did he attack you?”

Astarion sighed again.

“Not him, no. A gang of thugs, the Gur,” he sneered, “attacked me, angry about a ruling that I’d handed down as a magistrate.”

“I see. Is that why you were on edge with the hunter today?”

“Indeed. They’d beaten me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.”

He repressed a violent shudder at the memory and ploughed ahead, “It was only afterward that I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“I take it he was rather lacking as a master,” you intoned gravely.

“He had me go out into Baldur’s Gate and fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find by whatever means necessary. It was a fun little ritual of his - I’d bring them back and he’d ask me if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat.”

He could still taste it even now, the fetid blood of overripe rodent corpses. He wanted to gag and retch at the thought.

“Of course, if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse,” he shrugged matter-of-factly.

“Astarion, that’s terrible. I’m so bloody sorry,” you sniffled.

He looked up at the sound to see the glistening tracks of tears running down your face in the glow of the oil lamp, more yet unshed making your eyes glassy. He didn’t know what he expected your reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Thank you, but this isn’t about the sympathy,” he continued uncomfortably, “it’s about knowing what we might be up against. The Gur hunter won’t be the only one looking for me, what with his favorite plaything being misplaced.”

“Plaything?” you nearly choked.

“Yes, he always did say that my screams sounded sweetest,” he intoned bitterly.

He did not raise his eyes at the sound of your sharp gasp, fearful of what your face would betray.

“Vampire spawn are less than slaves - we’re puppets. All he need do is speak and our bodies obey. The things I’ve done, seen… felt. Well, there are some things better left unsaid,” he finished, voice hollow.

He looked up again to find tears streaming freely down your cheeks, eyes puffy and nose running with your sorrow, the whimpers and sniffles of your sobs echoing in the silence. He was unsure of how to console you, so he simply looked away, giving you time to gather yourself.

“Fuck, m’sorry,” you garbled, and he looked back to see you dashing tears from your eyes. “How insensitive of me. You don’t need my tears to make this wretched retelling any worse.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. It isn’t called a sob story for nothing, after all,” he chuckled, trying for levity to lift the stifling gloom of the atmosphere. His attempt wrested a watery giggle from you, so he considered it a success.

Once your sniffling had died down, a comfortable silence settled over the tent. He had gone back to staring at the empty space of his bedroll between you and him, and a new plan slowly began to unfurl in his mind. You seemed to like him well enough, but was well enough going to keep him safe in the dire straits ahead?

He was broken from his musing by the gentle strings of your lyre, a different melody this time but with a similar effect. The dulcet tones of your harmony flooded him with that strange, tingly warmth again, and he made up his mind in that moment. You were an unalienable ally with your charisma and quiet authority, and he needed to do whatever necessary to stay in your good graces.

Resolute in his decision, he listened intently to your music, laying back on his hands and closing his eyes to bask in the beauty of it. Your songs transitioned smoothly from one into the next, and he soon found himself drifting into his nightly meditation with unprecedented ease. He didn’t even register when the music had stopped, only noticing when your hushed voice temporarily disrupted the blissfully quiet calm of his mind.

“Goodnight, Astarion.” ______________________________________________________________

He rose early the next morning and was pleased to find you already awake. You were breaking your fast with some sludgy gruel the wizard was stirring while Wyll regaled you with animated tales of his heroics. He rolled his eyes at the warlock’s prideful display, but noticed you listening intently, gasping and asking questions at all the perfect intervals. The warlock regarded you with a smile far too fond for his liking, and he found himself calling out to you before he was even sure of what he was going to say.

“Darling, a moment, if you please?”

You gave Wyll a sheepish grin and excused yourself, setting the bowl of lumpy porridge on your stool and sauntering over to him. Astarion snickered to himself at the way the warlock’s face twisted.

“Good morning, Astarion,” you said brightly, smile more radiant than the morning sun.

“Good morning, my sweet. How did you sleep?” he asked, laying the charm on thick.

“Alright, I s’pose. You?”

“Vampires don’t sleep, dear, though I’ll say that last night was the closest I’ve come to it in two centuries,” he replied, trying for his most disarming smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you responded softly. “If you’d like to dine with me tonight, I’d be happy to lend my neck.”

Astarion could swear he felt his undead heart give a flutter of a beat before going dormant again.

“Why, there’s nothing I’d love more darling! But, are you sure you’re feeling up to it so soon after the first time?” he asked, his portrayal of concern surprisingly effortless.

He watched as you pulled a pendant out of your decolletage, holding it up so that it glinted in the light. He could feel the faint thrum of the Weave surrounding it.

“I went hunting through my things last night when I remembered I had this. It’s an amulet of restoration. Shadowheart confirmed for me that it will counteract the effects of blood loss,” you beamed.

“My, my. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as you noticeably retreated into yourself.

“I only wanted to help,” you mumbled, eyes downcast.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation, Astarion shifted the subject back to the amulet.

“And wherever did you find such a pretty bauble?”

Your answering grimace and accompanying flush was an unexpected reaction.

Oh, this must be good.

“I nicked it from the druid grove,” you said sheepishly.

“Aren’t you full of surprises, my dear,” he responded with a hearty laugh.

“Shut it, Rogue,” you grumbled at him good-naturedly.

“Never! And in answer to your earlier question, I would be more than delighted to dine with you.” He bowed dramatically, earning him a few bright peals of laughter.

“Your tent, or mine?” he purred. He made a show of watching the way your flush deepened and crept its way down into the plunging neckline of your nightclothes.

“Erm, I’d assume you’d be most comfortable in your tent,” you responded, wringing your hands with eyes downcast once more.

Well, that won’t do.

He reached forward slowly so as not to spook you and tucked a finger under your chin, gently raising your face so he could catch your eyes.

“I can make myself comfortable anywhere for you, dear,” he breathed, watching closely as your lips parted in a silent gasp and pupils dilated infinitesimally wider.

Just as he was about to celebrate this small victory, your eyes cinched shut and a pained expression flitted across your face. He dropped his hand instantly, taken aback by the dramatic shift in your reaction.

“S’not you,” you gritted out, confusing him further. You opened your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Just a bad memory,” you clarified, standing tall in a display of faux confidence.

It was a tactic he knew all too well, and he could see right through it to the rigid way you held yourself. He felt his face fall with a doleful kind of understanding.

She, too, has endured much torment.

“Ah yes, those I am quite familiar with. We all have skeletons in the closet. An unfortunate side effect of living…” he paused, “and unliving, I suppose.”

You chuckled, easing up again.

“I’m taking Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale with me today to look for the missing druid. We’ll let you know what we find,” you changed the subject, meeting his gaze.

He felt a pang of disappointment with the chill of fear quick on its heels and fought to keep his face neutral, but was ultimately unsuccessful. You caught a glimpse of something, however fleeting, in his eyes that turned your countenance steely.

“He won’t have you, Astarion. You don’t need to go back to him,” you said, suddenly vehement in your determination. It only increased his panic.

“You don’t know Cazador,” he relented in a whisper, “He could have spies anywhere. I could be gone long before you make it back. If he finds me, I will have no choice but to return.”

“He won’t find you. You’re safe with me,” you murmured back, reaching out to take his hands. It was an odd sensation, being held, made odder still by your initiation of the contact.

“Then take me with you,” he begged, just shy of desperate.

He could feel your thumbs sweeping over the backs of his hands, no doubt a placating gesture to ease the burn of your next words.

“Not today. You need to rest after yesterday’s events.”

“How rich, coming from you,” he snapped, withdrawing his hands from your grasp abruptly.

He caught the hurt that flashed across your delicate features before you managed to school your expression, straightening your spine and squaring your shoulders.

He sighed in defeat, “I suppose I will see you tonight, then.”

“Tonight,” you nodded and turned to leave.

You took a few steps away from him and paused, turning halfway back toward him.

“And I mean it, Astarion. You are safe with me. I will watch your back, so long as you watch mine.”

With nothing but your parting words for reassurance, Astarion returned to his tent, succumbing to the biting cold of dread’s barbed claws.

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soleius · 1 year

Text

🏹 sun signs as i see them;

happy valentine day my loves!

heres a lil something i’ve been working on for awhile as i’ve hit 100 followers (now 300+ >w<)

a feel good post w/ intentions to get ya to smile <3

i appreciate you all so much

lots of love, daisy

aries/1h sun: you’re the embodiment of ambition, that glorious spark of motivation. you’re the image of when dawn breaks, that fiery red hue. you’re who i look at during times of desperation, the light of perseverance in a room full of hopelessness. the feeling of full marks after sleepless nights of frustration, my most prized possession, a taste of satisfaction.

taurus/2h sun: you're the sight of freshly baked goods on display children beg their mothers for a taste. you're a warm cup of coffee enjoyed in the streets of paris, a garden of fresh flowers tended to for several hours. you're my stubborn moments in time where i know im wrong, but i'll still fight. you're the image of precious gifts i buy despite being shy, to express my love.

gemini/3h sun: you’re days of endless conversations, where there seems to be no end in the best possible ways. you’re moments of self realization, times when self discovery is at its best. you are what it feels to be learning new ideas from someone else, a fresh perspective when you’re so introspective. you’re my best friend in moments i needed someone the most.

cancer/4h sun: you’re the feeling of listening to my favourite music from several years ago. the remnants of innocence i still carry as child, a memory so distant it almost feels like a dream. the sounds of happy chatter amongst loud clatter. you're the comforting hug from a mother, that friend that says everythings all right. you're the reassurance in times of doubt.

leo/5h sun: you're my warm summer's day spent looking at art pieces on display. an appreciation card filled with love and adoration, crafted with much consideration. you’re the epitome of loyalty, a light of positivity. the true embodiment of confidence, a genuine compliment given at random. you’re the feel good moments in life when giant smiles are shared amongst us.

virgo/6h sun: you’re long conversations of areas i want to improve in life, where we share each others plans and feel that surge of motivation to be better when we’re with each other. you’re those moments in life people consider mundane, but i call it comfort. a cup of freshly brewed tea and a lingering scent of lavender laundry detergent.

libra/7h sun: you're my days of self care, and a genuine breath of fresh air. you’re what i imagine gentle smiles in a crowd full of people, a charming stranger one hopes to meet again but never will. you're what ideal relationships seem like, the genuine thought of falling in love. a star amongst the dozen, one that shines brightest although all so similar.

scorpio/8h sun: you’re the embodiment of deep conversations held between two lovers. a secret kept for eternity maintaining sweet serenity. you’re the deepest depths of my mind meant for no one, a sweet indulgence made for someone. you’re a puzzle to be uncovered, but only by those you allow to discover.

sagittarius/9h sun: you're my late night drives blasting music without a care. the feeling of an impending adventure, the type of conversations with friends people would have to censor. you're the embodiment of luck and an absurd memory of winning a green duck. fun is wherever you go and that’s something you’ve always known.

capricorn/10h sun: you’re moments in life where all eyes are on you, centre of attention without meaning to. you’re the embodiment of authority and chic elegance, an air of admiration others fawn over from afar. a moment of silent confidence and unwavering determination. you’re the taste of sweet satisfaction among bitter hearts.

aquarius/11h sun: you're my outta pocket conversations held between friends i'll treasure forever, sounds of undistinguishable cackles-borderline cries. you're my otherworldly discoveries in the deep depths of my mind, the feeling of insanity in a crowd full of none. a scientific discovery meant for humanity, a founder of innovation among your collections.

pisces/12h sun: you’re my iridescent hope in a room full of despair, my childish inner thoughts in a world full of adults. you’re impossible to grasp, an illusion i dream. you’re the image of the moon glimmering over an watery scene. you’re who sirens fail to imitate at night, because you’re just so one of a kind. a piscean child, neptune’s pride. a sweet daydream during my loneliest of nights.

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creepyscritches · 1 year

Text

Telepathically beaming my sketch pages at my followers so I don't have to plug in a scanner

#Creepy chatter #I think that inuyasha page is finished tbh I keep pecking at it #I've got some new 2mm black lead coming thats supposed to be oil based instead of wax #So it should be able to do quick depth adds w touches of black w/o catching like my wax black #I think the lead should get here like Thursday but I've already moved onto a page of werewolves so we'll see if I circle back lol

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nahoney22 · 11 months

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Hello! I was wondering if I could request a SFW wrecker/reader fic? I had an idea where they're stranded in a blizzard and have to take shelter in an abandoned house, but there's only one bed. Cuddles ensue. Pre or post relationship! Thank you in advance :DD

My Choice is Always

Wrecker X GN!Reader

word count: 2.2k

One Bed? Snow storm? That could only mean one thing.

warnings: lots of fluff! Mutual pining, pre relationship, minor injury to reader and also minor mention of nudity (depends on how you read it though, nothing happens), cuddles and kisses. Gender neutral reader.

authors note: so sorry for the wait anon! Absolute sucker for a share a bed trope.

The frigid air pierced your bones, sending shivers down your spine and causing your lips to chap in the unforgiving gusts of wind. With each step, you battled through a daunting wall of snow, reaching depths of at least seven feet.

Hoth, a planet you had once dreamed of visiting, had become a reality, albeit under less desirable circumstances. This visit was not by choice, nor was it during a time when the planet showcased its awe-inspiring beauty like you had seen on holopictures. Instead, you found yourself in the midst of the worst snowstorm you had ever encountered.

"W-Wrecker," you managed to utter, your teeth chattering uncontrollably, while your arms clung desperately to your coat, offering little respite from the biting cold. "How much farther?"

"Tech said a few more klicks south! You hangin' in there?" Wrecker's voice came through his helmet, the snow mercifully unable to sting his skin like it did yours.

"I've certainly had better days," you responded, a wry laugh escaping your lips. "F-freaking freezing!"

Wrecker emitted a sigh of agreement, adjusting his pace to accommodate your slower stride. It was just the two of you, having split from the rest of the boys and Omega on this stupid mission. All to recover a lost artifact for one of Cid's clients which you knew the pay would be less than adequate. Wrecker however, always caring, frequently checked in on you, a habit you were much grateful for.

You had long been aware of Wrecker's affection for you, and truth be told, you reciprocated those feelings. Strongly. However, you had hoped for a more romantic setting to explore the depths of your connection. Instead, you found yourselves locked in a relentless battle against a blizzard, with no end in sight.

As luck would have it, the situation managed to deteriorate even further. With each step you took, anticipating the soft cushion of snow beneath your feet, you instead encountered an unforgiving thick slab of ice. Slipping on it, it sends you hurtling forward with your ankle twisting uncomfortably upon impact.

A cry of pain escaped your lips, immediately drawing Wrecker's attention. "What happened? Are you okay?" Wrecker's eyes darted over you, his worry palpable is his tone.

You gritted your teeth, clutching your injured ankle as if it would dull the throbbing pain. "I'll survive," you sighed, though the lack of conviction in your voice betrayed you. "But I think I've sprained my ankle."

Wrecker muttered a quiet curse under his breath and contacted the rest of the team to inform them of the situation. Kindly, they did ask about your well-being, but you had no choice but to admit that for you to continue with this mission was a no-go.

"I've marked your location, and there's a settlement just east of where you are now. It should provide shelter for the night," Tech relayed calmly. "Given the treacherous conditions, it's best for all of us to find a place to stay until morning."

"I agree with Tech," Hunter's voice chimed in through the transmission. "We can't push through this weather any longer. Let's all find shelter for the night."

And so, that became the new plan. The only problem was that you couldn't exactly move forward at all.

"I've got you," Wrecker responded to your unspoken thoughts however, his large hands sliding underneath you as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms.

Despite the unpleasant weather and the pain throbbing in your ankle, you couldn't help but find this gesture somewhat romantic. "Are you sure you want to carry me? We don't even know how f-far this place is!" You shouted over a fierce gust of wind that felt like a slap to your face.

Wrecker chuckled behind his bucket, adjusting his grip to secure you more comfortably. "I'll always carry you when you need it."

A swarm of butterflies erupted in your chest at his words, but fortunately, you were already in his arms, sparing you from a potentially embarrassing swoon on the ground.

After a few minutes of walking, you both caught sight of a sizable structure in the distance, undoubtedly the shelter Tech had pinpointed. Wrecker forcefully and of course impressively kicked open the door, to which was already partially unhinged.

The building appeared weather-beaten and worn, but it offered much-needed shelter. Carefully setting you down, you steadied yourself against the wall while he quickly gathered chairs, dressers, and a table to barricade the door, ensuring as much protection and security as possible.

"Maker, it's colder in here than out there," you shivered even despite the absence of wind and snow.

Fortunately, your eyes landed on something promising—a fireplace. "Don't suppose ya have anything to light it with?" Wrecker inquired. You rummaged through your damp coat pockets, and to your relief, you found a box of matches.

"H-here," you replied through chattering teeth, tossing the matches to him. Wrecker effortlessly caught them, crouching down in front of the fireplace to ignite a flame.

"That should warm things up," he stated, rising to his feet and removing his helmet, placing it aside and rubbed his hands together in front of the crackling fire. You nodded in agreement, and his gaze shifted to you, filled with concern. "You look freezing, cyare." You tried to ignore the endearment, but a flush spread across your cheeks, conveniently attributing it to the cold.

"I am," you dryly laughed, as he approached you and gently guided you toward the fire with his arm around your waist. He fetched an old dusty chair and helped you sit down. "Thanks, Wrecker." You smiled up at him but frowned when realising that there was only one chair available— the one you occupied—while the other was pressed against the door. So, Wrecker settled himself on the floor.

"Is that comfy down there? We can switch if you want."

"Nah, don't be silly. I'm alright!" Wrecker grinned up at you, rubbing his hands together by the fire. Then, he carefully gestured toward your ankle. "Is your ankle alright? You should take your boots off, I bet your socks are wet."

He was right. As soon as he mentioned it, a tingling sensation spread through your feet, prompting you to waste no time in removing your snow-dusted boots and socks. "That's better," you whispered to yourself, relishing in the warmth that enveloped your toes as they bathed in the heat of the fire. You watched as Wrecker took your socks and boots, placing them near the flames for them to dry. You eventually removed your coat too, seeing no benefit in keeping something drenched in snow covering your body.

"I hope the others found some shelter," Wrecker voiced after a comfortable silence. You suggested he try contacting them, but sadly, there was no signal to be found.

"We should try again in a bit, or wait for them to contact us first," you suggested, your hand gently resting on Wrecker's shoulder, offering reassurance as you noticed the hint of nervousness on his face when there was no reply. "I'm sure they'll be alright."

"Yeah, you're right," Wrecker replied softly, finding solace in the warmth radiating from your touch that seemed to charge his entire body.

Seizing the opportunity, you surveyed the small room, which consisted of an open space with a modest but now dusty lounge area centered around a fireplace, a tiny kitchen with stripped and empty cupboards, and one large bed nestled in the corner.

Wait. Pause. One bed?

"Wrecker, there's only one bed," you nervously pointed out, preemptively addressing the potential awkwardness to save any embarrassment later on.

Wrecker leaned back, his gaze shifting between the bed and you. "Uh, I can stay on the floor if you want?"

You quickly shook your head, earning an amused raise of his eyebrow at your eager rejection. It made you slightly embarrassed, but given your intuition about the mutual feelings between you, maybe sharing a bed wasn't such a bad idea after all. "Don't be silly," you finally responded, clearing your throat as your arms instinctively hugged your trembling body. "The bed is big enough for both of us. And it'll be... erm... extra warm."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Wrecker's lips, his eyes lighting up with a mix of gratitude and anticipation. "Alright, if you say so," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle hint of excitement.

Together, you both prepared for the night, a mix of nervous anticipation and comfort intertwining in the air. Stripping out of your wet clothes felt somewhat vulnerable, but you both understood the need for dry garments in the morning. To your relief, Wrecker's gaze held no trace of objectification, only warmth and understanding.

After setting your clothes out to dry by the crackling fire, you hopped your way toward Wrecker, mindful of you ankle, who had pulled back the sheets on the bed, managing to find some extra linens in one of the dressers.

"It ain't much, but it should do," he said, offering a genuine smile as he settled onto the bed. The creaking of the mattress accompanied your weight as you pulled the covers close and sighed. "Not too shabby, to be honest," you commented, snuggling into your pillow and gazing up at the dull ceiling, aware of the impending intimacy of sharing a bed with Wrecker for the night.

"Man, I'm starving!" Wrecker groaned, his stomach rumbling in agreement.

"Hunter always tells you to pack some rations," you teased, smirking up at him, knowing full well that he hadn't stocked up before the mission.

He rolled over, his eyes meeting yours. "Oh, yeah? Where are yours then?" Your smirk faded, and you playfully swatted his arm.

"Shut up." Okay, so maybe you were guilty of forgetting to pack rations too.

The two of you embraced the comfortable silence, maintaining a respectful distance as you listened to the sizzling fire drown out the howling wind outside. The others had yet to make contact, but you hoped for a response in the morning.

"Can I tell you something?" you blurted out, your mind swirling with ifs and buts.

Wrecker turned his head, nodding, his gaze filled with gentleness. "Always."

A smile tugged at your lips at his reply, and it took a moment for you to gather your thoughts. "I hate Cid," you confessed, the weight of your words lifting as they hung in the air.

Wrecker's smile widened, and a hearty laugh escaped his lips. "With all the bickering ya do, I could never tell," he teased, earning a playful eye roll from you.

"But," you continued, fidgeting with your hands beneath the covers, your heart racing, "I'm kinda glad she assigned us this mission."

Wrecker studied your face, his eyes filled with understanding. While some might consider him slow to pick up on certain things, he had an innate sense that allowed him to decipher the unspoken. "Yeah," he spoke softly, his usually booming voice now a tender rumble, "I'm kinda glad too."

Your gaze shifted to him, drawing closer as his arm enveloped your shoulder, tracing small circles on your skin. "I think I'd always choose to be stuck in a snowstorm with you, Wrecker," you murmured, closing your eyes as the comforting warmth of his body washed over you.

His eyes closed as well, pulling you a little closer. The sensation of your bodies pressed against each other filled you both with euphoria. "You’re so warm," you whispered, and without thinking you placed a kiss to his arm that you nestled into.

And without hesitation, Wrecker whispered, "You missed my lips."

You open your eyes, already seeing him look at you as the weight of his words lingered in the air only for a short amount of time until the tension became unbearable.

The room is filled with a gentle warmth as you gaze into each other's eyes, the world outside forgotten. You lean in, capturing his lips with you own and savoring the taste and the tender connection that has formed between you. Your hand caresses his cheek, feeling the roughness of his scars beneath your fingertips. In response, Wrecker's arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

As the kiss lingers, you can feel the electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you in this blizzard. His touch, his embrace, sends shivers down your spine, not from the cold, but from the sheer intensity of the moment.

When you finally part, breathless and filled with a newfound sense of closeness, Wrecker's eyes meet yours, his voice filled with sincerity. "I've always wanted to do that," he admits, his dazed eyes glowing with a mix of emotions.

A mischievous grin plays on your lips as you tease him. "Is 'always' your favorite word today?" you ask, planting another subtle kiss on his lips.

He chuckles, his hand gently kneading your waist, his touch both tender and possessive. "I suppose it is," he admits, relishing in the feeling of having you lying beside him. He showers you with soft kisses, peppering your hair, the side of your head, and any available space on your face. "Always wanted to be beside you, always wanted to kiss you," he whispers, his words barely audible.

Your heart swells with affection as you intertwine your fingers with his. "Always you."

More wrecker works

Masterlist

Tags + those who I think will appreciate some Wrecker love: @theawkwardartist12 @moon-wrecked @unknownforknown @nimata-beroya @littlemissmanga @merkitty49 @l-lend @wreckers-wife@kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @theroguesully @mustluvecho @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @the-good-shittt @imalovernotahater @crystal076 @blustalker @s1st3r @by-the-primes @the-bad-batch-baroness

#nahoney22 writes #bad batch wrecker x reader #wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #tbb #the bad batch

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miseries-mistress · 1 year

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THE WAY YOU LOOK TONIGHT | COMMANDER CODY

This fic is for the @cloneficgiftexchange , my story is too @chicknstripz based of the prompt "Do you think they saw us sneak off?"

Synopsis: Galas have never interested you. Dressing up, smothering makeup on, and entertaining people who attended for appearances alone is pitiful as well as painful, but an unexpected guest turns the dreadful night around.

Warnings: female reader, fluff, kissing, no spice, happy fucking ending bc he deserves one. W/C: 1225

Notes: i know you said fluff, but i had to add a pinch of sadness. i actually can't help myself! I hope you like it!

star wars masterlist

You'd rather be anywhere but here. No matter how the senators framed this gala, it was nothing but an excuse to garner support for the Republic and funds despite the invite plastering "charity" over the heading. Being an advisor to the Republic, you often attend such events in a dress worth more than most Corosants residents' paychecks. It's a requirement for someone working so in-depth with Jedi and clones alike, no matter how entitled you feel and far from the comfort of your uniform when you step into the building.

Soft classical music floats out the grand doors, and the troopers you pass by nod respectfully after noticing you from your many appearances through different battalions. You could easily be picked out among the rest, whether it was how uncomfortable you looked or the dress that didn't fit quite right, you didn't know. You offer them a smile before turning back to polite chatter barely above the melody. Maybe you would have enjoyed this more and soaked in these rare pleasantries if tomorrow's work hadn't hung over your head so dauntingly. Working with the 501st never bothered you. In fact, you got along well with Rex and his men, but pursuing any diplomacy with Anakin present is nothing short of exasperating, so much so that you find it hard to believe he holds the rank of a Jedi.

"Well, don't you look lonely?" the man behind you asks. An unmistakable husk to the teasing lilt in his voice prompts your head to jerk in surprise. You turn, caught in Cody's gaze, while the confidence slowly drains from his eyes the longer you hold it, finally noticing the front of your dress dripping down your curves. There's something inexplicable in his stare, the way it slowly slides down your body, an emotion you could only compare to ravenous enlarging his pupils.

"You look…" he trails off, his Adam's apple bobbing as his irises find their way back to yours in an attempt to formulate the words congealed in his throat. "Really nice."

He bites back a wince. That's not what he wanted to say.

Your chuckle does little to settle him, his mind rushing with possibilities of how you interpreted his complement as your hands run down his suit lapel, and he tries to straighten himself, maybe to seem presentable in front of you. Even after all the battles you've witnessed together, Cody still makes an effort to look like what he feels is a "real man." As if there was such a thing.

"And you cleaned up nicely." He did. He really did. Cody looked almost...regal in the tailored black suit, rippling with lean muscle accentuated by the hugging fabric. Heat rises to your cheeks the longer you stare, and you clear your throat, forcing yourself to concentrate on what you're saying. "Well, I didn't expect you to show up tonight, not that it's unwelcome."

You offer him a smile, understanding his flushed expression as thinly veiled embarrassment, removing your hands from his chest. A look of longing flashes across his honeyed irises before he clears his throat, his hand rubbing sheepishly at his nape.

"Yeah, well, I usually see you before you're sent elsewhere. Besides, certain clone commanders were invited to showcase ourselves to members of the Senate…something about seeing us in person." He huffs, clearly disgruntled. "Not that it matters. It won't change their opinions of us."

You nodded. You've been around your fair share of senators throughout your career. But, being one of many ambassadors in the military and traveling across star systems to quell conflict in the people, senators often discarded them. Tossing their opinions forged from many years of training aside from the preconception that comes with the name. Seeing the hatred clones face is one thing, but witnessing how deeply it affects them is another.

Cody avoids your regard, searching for anything else to latch onto besides the raw emotions crackling in the air.

"Hey." A finger taps against his prominent jawbone, drawing him away from his thoughts. "Not right now. Let's just make the most of this time."

You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers and giving the rough skin a squeeze, calluses digging into yours. Loud laughter slices through the air, and your attention shifts to the group of aristocrats loudly talking among themselves, glasses of alcohol swinging loosely in their hands. You wince, the environment you created fleeting from your grasp just as Cody leans in, his mouth a hairsbreadth away from your ear, and a raspy breath accompanied by a hum is enough to have you hanging off every single word. "Let's get out of here, yeah? Make the most of our time?"

You can only nod, the words caught in your throat as the familiar warmth ignites in your stomach, spreading throughout your limbs until you're giddy with the implications of what comes next.

Knowing the layout better than you, he leads you by hand down the hall, passing guards in a hazy blur, your head reeling at the point of contact. The mysteriousness, the longing, the desire to be closer than you could have ever imagined has your breaths coming in shallow pants, desperate for some reprieve from the shared ache between you two.

Finally, the door slides open, the night air kissing your cheeks with a chilliness you feel under your skin. The soft shut of the door behind you and his face in front of yours allows an unprompted giggle to slide past your lips, stealing a glimpse of the door before peeking back at him.

"Do you think they saw us sneak off?" His lips twitch into a ghost of a grin, stepping towards you. You feel like teenagers, too wrapped in the moment to consider the consequences and everything that could crush what you've constructed into thousands of pieces, absorbed in the thrill of secrecy to consider your lives outside this instance. Not Republic members fighting for a better tomorrow, just lovers.

"You worry too much for your own good." Cody slides a hand up your cheek, and you can feel the pulse in his fingertips, the quickness of his breath. He seems nervous, debating the action before pressing his lips to yours in a tender cling. It's cliché the way it steals your breath away as you melt into him, and the hands that shift from your cheeks to shoulders and then slide painstakingly down your back are filled with tender warmth. You feel aware of everything at once, the pressure of his mouth, the taste of your kiss, the ardor of his hand cascading down the knobs of your spine, and the texture of his slightly cracked lips.

He holds your mouth captive so he can feel every place where they touch and every place when they pull away. You can't help but savor the air you share in seconds afterwards as you slip your nose across his, the instant too intimate to be painted by words. Even your breaths sync together while you stand there.

Cody's fingers drift to your hips, pulling you flush to his chest in a swift movement. Gentle hands draw circles along your covered skin, pressing a kiss next to your ear. His voice is husker than usual, mysterious, and inviting.

"But I wouldn't have it any other way."

#commander cody x you #commander cody x reader #commander cody fanfiction #commander cody x female reader #commander cody #cody x reader #cody tcw #tcw commander cody #tcw cody #star wars tcw #tcw #x female reader #clone wars #starwars the clone wars #tcw fanfic #CFGE23

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minarixx · 9 months

Text

𝐈 𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐨 ✯ 𝐑.𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚

"𝙄𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙪𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙛 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙖𝙡𝙢𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤"

PAIRING. Suna Rintarou x f!Reader

CONTENT. Angst, Arranged Marriage (not w suna), Unrequited love

Y/N and Suna, separated by parental mandates but bound by an enduring connection. After forced separation, Y/N enters an arranged marriage, only to escape it years later. Returning to her hometown, she seeks Suna, only to discover he's engaged to another. The ache of lost love and the unpredictable twists of fate, leaving Y/N to confront the bittersweet echoes of a romance that slipped through her fingers.

WC. 4.4K

A/N. I didn't realize I was gone for almost a month so my b. this one is longe so bare with me. idk why u guys liked that Tsukishima shot that one was cringe. anyways get ready for a smutshot next after this.

Masterlink - Songs Unwritten

In a bustling classroom, the scent of chalk dust and the murmur of young voices hung in the air like a familiar melody. It was the beginning of a new school year, and to everyone’s excitement, it was the last year for high school. Y/N found herself a seat near the window, her eyes curious as she surveyed her new classmates.

As the teacher entered and introduced herself, a hush fell over the room. The students quickly settled into their seats, their attention drawn to the front. And amidst this sea of faces, Y/N's gaze landed on him – Suna Rintaro.

He sat a few rows ahead, leaning slightly against his desk, as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders. His demeanor exuded a sense of quiet calm, a stillness that set him apart from the chatter and enthusiasm of his peers. His dark brown hair framed his face, and his sharp eyes held a thoughtful gaze that seemed to observe the world with a sense of detachment.

As Homeroom came to an end, they moved on to their next classes for the day, Y/N couldn't help but analyze Suna Rintarou. The bell rang for dismissal and Y/N found herself partnered with Suna for classroom cleanup. Her heart raced, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation filling her chest. She tentatively approached his desk, her voice soft as she spoke his name.

"Suna?"

He stopped putting away his pencil and books and turned his gaze towards her, his eyes meeting hers with a calm intensity. There was a moment of silence, as if he was studying her before acknowledging her presence. Y/N felt a flutter of nerves, unsure of what to expect.

"Yes?" His voice was gentle, an atmosphere whisper that carried a sense of depth.

"We're supposed to clean the class today together," Y/N explained, offering a small smile.

He nodded, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. It was as if the corners of his mouth had just grazed the surface of happiness before retreating back into his usual calm facade.

Their collaboration was quiet and efficient. Y/N found herself stealing glances at him, intrigued by the enigmatic aura he emitted. His contributions were thoughtful and precise, his words carrying a weight that left an impression on her. And yet, there was an air of distance around him, as if he was present but also held in reserve.

As the clock ticked to 4:30, Y/N felt a curiosity tugging at her heart. She couldn't help but wonder about the thoughts and dreams that lay hidden beneath Suna's composed exterior. What did he long for? What made him smile?

Their first interaction left Y/N with a sense of intrigue that she couldn't shake. As the days turned into weeks, their paths crossed more frequently. Each time, their conversations remained subdued, as if both were content in the comfortable silence they shared.

Y/N found herself drawn to Suna's quiet presence. She admired the way he listened, the way he observed, and the way he spoke – each word chosen with care. In a world that often raced forward, Suna seemed to exist in a pocket of tranquility, untouched by the chaos around him.

Their partnership blossomed into an unspoken understanding. They didn't need to fill the space with unnecessary words. Their connection was built on shared glances, exchanged smiles, and the mutual appreciation of the moments they spent together.

And so, amidst the noise of the classroom, Y/N discovered the beauty of a friendship that didn't need to be loud to be meaningful. In Suna Rintaro's quiet demeanor, she found a kindred spirit, a companion who reminded her that sometimes, the most profound connections are forged in the hush between heartbeats.

It had been some time since Y/N and Suna Rintaro had first met in the classroom, their interactions marked by quiet exchanges and stolen glances. What had started as a mere curiosity had grown into something more profound, something that now lay nestled in the chambers of her heart – feelings that had begun to bloom like delicate flowers in the spring.

As the weeks turned into months, their paths continued to cross. Their conversations remained soft-spoken, their words like whispered secrets shared between confidants. Y/N found herself treasuring every moment they spent together, each interaction like a precious gem to be cherished.

One day, as the school bell rang to signal the end of the day, Y/N hesitated by her desk, gathering her belongings. She felt a presence beside her and turned to find Suna standing there, his expression as enigmatic as ever.

"Would you like to walk home together?" he asked, his voice carrying the same calmness that had come to define him.

A warmth spread through Y/N's chest, and a soft smile graced her lips. "I'd like that."

And so, they walked side by side, the quiet rhythm of their footsteps creating a melody of their own. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own cocoon of companionship.

With each step, their conversations grew deeper, their words touching on topics that transcended the mundane. They shared their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities, like pieces of a puzzle that fit seamlessly together. Y/N marveled at how easily Suna seemed to understand her, how effortlessly he saw through the layers she often hid behind.

As the seasons changed, so did their connection. Their feelings, once delicate and uncertain, began to bloom with a vibrancy that matched the blossoming cherry blossoms that adorned their town. Their shared moments became memories etched in time – an afternoon spent watching the sunset from the hilltop, a quiet night beneath the stars, a shared laughter over a cup of coffee.

It was in those moments that Y/N realized her heart had found its home in Suna's quiet presence. His gaze, once distant and unreadable, now held a warmth that sent shivers down her spine. The brush of their fingers as they reached for the same book in the library, the way their eyes met and lingered a fraction too long – these were the gestures that spoke of feelings too deep for words.

And yet, amidst the blossoming love, there was an undercurrent of uncertainty. Y/N knew the world outside their quiet bubble was complex and unpredictable. The unspoken understanding between them was both a comfort and a challenge, a bond that held them together yet left so much unsaid.

As the school year came to an end, Y/N found herself standing once again by the riverbank where they had first met. The sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink, casting a warm glow on everything around her. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel the whispers of the wind and the memories that had woven themselves into the fabric of her heart.

Amid the vibrant swirl colours of sky, Y/N and Suna's love story unfolded like a hidden gem, radiant yet concealed from the prying eyes of the world. Their bond, nurtured over years of shared moments and whispered confessions, had bloomed into a love that neither of them could deny.

Their paths intertwined effortlessly as they embarked on new adventures, facing the world side by side. Their love, once unspoken, now held a clarity that resonated in every glance and every touch. The world seemed to dim around them as they reveled in the warmth of each other's presence.

But the currents of fate are often turbulent, and the tranquility they had carved for themselves was not destined to last. Y/N's parents, driven by a world of social expectations and business alliances, cast their disapproving gaze upon Suna. He was everything that they deemed unfit for their daughter – an outsider to their social circle, a disruption to their carefully laid plans.

One evening, in a dimly lit room where whispers carried more weight than shouts, Y/N's parents confronted her about her relationship with Suna. Their faces bore expressions of stern determination, their words dripping with ultimatums.

"He is not the future we have envisioned for you," her father stated coldly. "Our reputation and our business connections are at stake."

Y/N's heart pounded, torn between the love she felt for Suna and the loyalty she owed her family. Her mother's gaze bore into her, an unspoken threat that cut deeper than any blade.

"We will not allow you to tarnish our name," her mother declared, her voice laced with an icy resolve.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she found herself standing at the crossroads of love and duty. She knew that her parents held the power to reshape her life, to either bless her happiness or snatch it away. The choice was impossible – to follow her heart and face the wrath of her family, or to sacrifice her love for the sake of their approval.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N's heart grew heavy with the weight of her decision. Suna sensed her inner turmoil, his eyes searching hers for the answers she couldn't provide. Their moments together were tinged with a sense of urgency, as if they were holding onto fragments of a dream slipping through their fingers.

And then came the day when a letter arrived, sealing Y/N's fate in ink that felt like a death sentence. It was a letter from her parents’ friends, informing her that they had arranged a date for her with their son – a man she had met only in passing, a man whose very presence felt foreign.

Y/N read the words on the page with a sinking heart, the weight of her parents' expectations pressing down on her. She felt as if the walls were closing in, suffocating her dreams and the love she held so dear. Suna's name echoed in her mind, a painful reminder of the love that had blossomed and now withered under the weight of society's judgment.

With trembling hands, she dialed Suna's number, her heart pounding in her chest. The line crackled to life, and she struggled to keep her voice steady.

"Suna, we need to talk."

Their meeting was solemn, their usual refuge – the riverside – now bearing witness to the unraveling of their shared dreams. Y/N's voice trembled as she recounted the ultimatum her parents had presented, the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“My parents say that they’ll cut me off financially and physically. They also said they’ll fuck up our admittance to universities if we keep dating.” She said, biting her lips trying to fight back the tears.

Suna listened in silence, his eyes a mix of sorrow and understanding. He reached out, his fingers brushing away her tears, a gentle touch that spoke volumes of his love and empathy.

"I don't want to lose you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. "But I understand the weight of your choice."

And so, in a quiet corner of their world, Y/N and Suna made a heart-wrenching decision. They would part ways, allowing her to honor her family's wishes and him to carry the memory of their love in his heart.

As Y/N stood on the precipice of a love forsaken, she cast one last glance at Suna, committing his image to memory – the curve of his lips, the warmth of his gaze, the love that had once consumed them both.

The months that followed were a blur of preparations and forced smiles. Y/N found herself entangled in a web of expectations, her heart heavy with the knowledge that the path she walked was not her own. Before she knew it, 2 years had passed.

As the wedding day arrived, Y/N stood before the mirror, her reflection a mask of conflicting emotions. The wedding attire felt like a shroud, a symbol of the life she was entering, one that had been mapped out by others.

The day ahead held a weight that seemed almost insurmountable, a day that marked the beginning of a new chapter she had never truly chosen.

She had spent years building a life that was defined by duty and expectation, a life that had veered away from the path of her heart's desires. Her parents' wishes had guided her steps, leading her to the brink of a marriage that held none of the warmth and love she had once dreamt of.

As the sunlight gradually filled the room, there was a knock at the door – a sound that brought a mixture of surprise and trepidation. Y/N opened the door to find him standing there, his presence a bittersweet reminder of the love that had once consumed her thoughts – Suna Rintaro.

"Can we talk?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a weight of unspoken emotions.

Y/N nodded, her heart racing as she stepped aside to let him in. They sat in silence for a moment, their shared history stretching between them like an invisible thread.

"I heard about the wedding," Suna finally spoke, his gaze locked on the floor. "I wanted to see you before..."

His words hung in the air, unfinished yet brimming with emotion. Y/N's heart ached, the pain of their unresolved feelings like an open wound.

"Suna, I..." she began, her voice faltering.

He looked up, his eyes searching hers. "I want to know that you’ll keep my promise."

Confusion swirled within Y/N's chest, and she searched his eyes for an explanation.

"I'll write to you," Suna continued, his voice steady yet heavy with unspoken truths. "No matter where you are, no matter what happens, you’ll reply and I'll reply to you.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as the weight of his words settled upon her. In that moment, she realized the depth of his feelings, the unyielding connection that had always existed between them.

With a tenderness that spoke of years of longing, Suna reached out, his fingers brushing away a tear that had escaped her eye.

"I don't want to let you go, Y/N," he confessed softly. "But I also don't want to hold you back from the life you deserve."

Their gaze locked in a shared understanding, a moment that encapsulated the complexities of love and sacrifice. And then, as the sun's rays filtered through the window, Suna rose from his seat, his presence a fleeting yet indelible impression upon her heart.

As he turned to leave, he looked back one last time, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow.

"I'll write to you," he repeated, his voice a whispered promise that lingered in the air.

The ceremony passed in a blur of tradition and celebration, the echoes of joy and laughter contrasting sharply with the emptiness Y/N felt within. She walked the path set before her, her steps heavy with the weight of a decision that had robbed her of her dreams.

And as the vows were exchanged, she stole a glance at her new husband – a man whose face was familiar yet distant, a man who represented everything she had surrendered.

Suna's image lingered in her heart as the years unfolded. The love they had shared, the dreams they had dared to dream, remained an ember that refused to be extinguished. The life she had chosen was one of comfort and stability, but it was a life that left her heart yearning for what might have been.

And so, the letters began – a lifeline that connected two souls separated by circumstances beyond their control. In the days that followed, Y/N would find herself eagerly awaiting the arrival of each letter, her heart racing as she read his words, words that carried the weight of his unspoken feelings.

As the years passed, the love between Y/N and her husband grew into something resembling companionship, but it was a feeling that could never fill the void left by Suna. Their lives were marked by polite conversations, shared responsibilities, and the illusion of a content marriage.

As she looked in the mirror, the reflection that stared back at her was a stranger – a woman who had lost herself in the pursuit of others' expectations. The once-bright eyes that held dreams and aspirations now held a glimmer of emptiness, haunted by the choices that had led her astray. The lines on her face told a story of resilience and hidden pain, a narrative of sacrifices that had slowly chipped away at the spirit she once knew.

Her fingers brushed against the cold surface of the mirror, a tactile connection to the reality she had crafted. The wedding band still adorned her finger, a constant reminder of a loveless union that had stripped her of her own desires and dreams. The life she had built felt like a house of cards, teetering on the edge of collapse, held together by the weight of societal expectations.

The letters were an escape, a world where they could be honest about their emotions, where their love could flourish without the constraints of society's expectations. Through the ink on paper, they shared their dreams, their fears, and the moments that defined their lives.

For two years, their correspondence held them together, a bond that felt unbreakable despite the miles that separated them.

The ink on the letters told stories of unfulfilled yearnings and whispered confessions of

love. In those words, they found solace, a sanctuary for their forbidden emotions. But as time passed, the letters grew fewer, and the ache in Y/N's chest deepened. Suna's responses became scarce, and a chasm grew between them, mirroring the physical separation that fate had enforced.

But then, one day, the letters stopped. The silence that followed was a void that echoed Y/N's longing and uncertainty.

She found herself standing at the crossroads once again, her heart heavy with questions. Why had he stopped writing? Had he moved on? Had he grown tired of their unfulfilled connection?

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Y/N's heartache deepened. The absence of his letters felt like a gaping hole, a reminder of the love that had once sustained her.

The passage of time had a way of reshaping lives, of transforming the familiar into the unrecognizable. The years following Y/N's marriage had been marked by a mixture of contentment and resignation. Her union with her husband had been a facade, a construct built upon societal expectations and familial obligations.

As the third year of her marriage approached, Y/N found herself at a crossroads. The foundation upon which her life had been built was beginning to crumble, and the weight of her unhappiness had become an unbearable burden.

And so, with a heart heavy but resolute, Y/N faced the reality of her situation. She initiated the process of divorce, a decision that carried both liberation and uncertainty. The threads that had bound her to a life that was not truly hers were finally unraveling, paving the way for a new beginning.

Three years drifted by like leaves in the wind. The day finally came when Y/N was able to escape the shackles of her arranged marriage. Her divorce was a victory, but it tasted bittersweet. She had fought for her freedom, but it came at a cost she had not anticipated.

As she returned to her hometown, the place where her journey had begun, Y/N felt a mixture of nostalgia and anticipation. The streets were both familiar and foreign, a reflection of the changes she had undergone. She found herself wandering through the places of her past, seeking solace in the memories that had shaped her.

One evening, as she passed by an electronics store, a television screen caught her attention. The images on the screen were of a figure she had not seen in years – Suna Rintaro. He stood tall and confident, a symbol of success and achievement. The sight of him sent a jolt of emotions through her – a mixture of surprise, pride, and a pang of unresolved feelings.

The news spoke of his volleyball career, his rise to prominence as a player who had made his mark on the national stage. Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of joy for his achievements, a sense of pride for the man who had once held a special place in her heart.

But as the news segment continued, the narrative took an unexpected turn – Suna's engagement to a woman. The shock of the revelation hit Y/N like a tidal wave, a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

The happiness she had initially felt for his success was now intertwined with the sting of his engagement – a reminder that life had moved forward without her. The years of silence, the distance that had separated them, had transformed their connection into something distant and unattainable.

As Y/N watched the screen, her heart clenched with a mixture of emotions. The ache of her unfulfilled love resurfaced, a reminder of the choices they had both made, the paths they had walked apart.

As Y/N walked away from the store, her thoughts were a chaotic whirlwind of emotions. The chance encounter with Suna had left her heart pounding and her mind in disarray. She couldn't shake the feeling that she had stepped into a surreal dream, a world where the past and present collided in unexpected ways.

"It can't be true," she whispered to herself, the words a desperate mantra. "There's no way..."

The news of Suna's engagement continued to reverberate within her, a persistent thorn in her heart. The thought of him moving on, finding happiness with someone else, was something she had struggled to accept. She had clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, the news was a mistake, a twisted rumor that had spiraled out of control.

As she walked through the familiar streets of her hometown, memories of their shared past flashed through her mind. The countless moments they had spent together, the whispered conversations, and the unspoken confessions – they were all etched into her heart. Their love had been a flame that had burned brightly, illuminating her world with a warmth she had never known before.

And now, faced with the reality of his engagement, Y/N grappled with the pain of loss and the confusion of unfulfilled longing. The love they had shared had been pure and genuine, and the thought of Suna belonging to someone else felt like a betrayal of that love.

As she reached her destination – the high school where it all started. She gazed out at the surroundings, the world around her a blur as she tried to make sense of her feelings.

As she walked through the school's gates, she was hit by a wave of nostalgia. The hallways echoed with the laughter and chatter of students, a reminder of the passage of time. She strolled through the campus, each step a journey through the corridors of her past.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/N turned a corner and collided with someone – someone whose presence sent a jolt of recognition through her. She looked up, her heart racing, and her eyes met his – Suna Rintaro.

Time seemed to stand still as they stood there, their gazes locked in a shared moment of surprise and recognition. Suna's eyes held a mixture of emotions – surprise, joy, and a hint of something that Y/N couldn't quite decipher.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice carrying the weight of years of memories.

"Suna" she replied, her voice tinged with a mixture of emotions she struggled to contain.

They stood there in the hallway, surrounded by the echoes of their shared past. The years that had separated them suddenly felt insignificant, and Y/N realized that the emotions they had both tried to suppress were still very much alive.

"It's been a long time," Suna said, his gaze searching hers.

Y/N nodded, unable to find the words to express the complexity of her feelings. The silence between them held a mixture of unspoken questions and shared understanding.

"I heard about your volleyball career and your engagement," Y/N finally spoke, her voice carrying a blend of curiosity and vulnerability.

Suna's gaze softened, a flicker of sadness in his eyes. "I wanted to tell you in person."

As the weight of his words settled upon her, Y/N felt a mixture of emotions – a sense of closure and a hint of regret. The love they had once shared had transformed into a bittersweet memory, a reminder of the choices they had both made.

"You deserve all the happiness, Suna," Y/N said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions within her.

His gaze held hers, a mixture of gratitude and longing. "And you, Y/N? How have you been?"

Y/N smiled, her heart warmed by the genuine concern in his words. "I've been finding my way, step by step."

They stood there, two souls whose paths had intertwined in the most unexpected ways. The school's halls were a silent witness to their shared history – the quiet moments, the unspoken confessions, and the years of separation that had ultimately led them to this moment.

As they parted ways, Y/N felt a sense of peace settling within her. Seeing Suna again had been both a reminder of the love they had shared and a confirmation that life had taken them on different paths.

The box of letters in her hands felt heavy as she put it back in the luggage. Y/N's heart was heavy too, burdened by the weight of lost love. She knew there would be no happy ending for her, only memories of what could have been.

Y/N found herself standing at a crossroads once again – a place where the echoes of their shared past resonated with the weight of unfulfilled dreams. And as she looked out at the world around her, the stars above casting a somber glow, she couldn't help but wonder if their paths had ever truly been destined to intertwine.

Sitting alone in her hotel room, tears streaming down her face, Y/N realized that she had lost not only her chance at happiness but also her best friend. She had fought for love, only to be met with disappointment. Life had played a cruel trick on her, leaving her with nothing but shattered dreams.

The ache of her unfulfilled love remained, a constant companion in the quiet moments of her life, a poignant reminder that some love stories were destined to remain unfinished, forever suspended in the realm of what could have been.

©Minarixx 2023 - please don't copy, repost or translate without my knowledge credit or permission.

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heich0e · 2 years

Text

you used to tell me i was brave bakugou katsuki/f!reader (bnha) tags: tw alcohol/intoxication, tw sick mention, all characters aged up, angst adjacent, post-break up break in, miscommunication, bakugou is militant about his laundry hamper i know it

The telltale sound of keys clicking in the lock of your apartment door rouses you from the depths of slumber.

You aren’t quite awake; only just conscious enough to recognize you’re no longer dreaming. You sigh lightly, stretch your toes until they curl into your soft sheets, and nuzzle back into the warmth of your pillow after realizing it’s probably just Bakugou getting home late from his patrol, like he has so many times before.

Your eyes snap open again, this time much more alert, when you realize how wrong that statement is.

Your gaze flickers to the alarm clock on your bedside table; the violently red numbers on the clock face tell you it’s late, but that you haven’t been asleep for very long. You’d tossed and turned for hours after arriving home from Izuku’s disastrous birthday party—which you never should have attended in the first place.

The issue could all be traced back to one Kaminari Denki—though you’re certainly not the first to make that particular claim.

You ran into Denki few days prior, in a bar near your office that you like to stop at after work to grab a drink with friends. He’d been just as shocked as you had upon first seeing each other, pulling you in for an only slightly uncomfortable hug and asking how you’d been in the few months since he’d seen you last. It’s only weird if you make it weird you’d told yourself repeatedly as Denki chattered happily away before you, and there were far worse people who you could have run into, after all.

You’d smiled and spoken casually, though your eyes frequently darted over to your group of coworkers who watched the exchange curiously from their table across the bar. You didn’t often divulge your connection with the city’s Pro Heroes beyond admitting to being a former UA classmate, but Denki was anything but discrete in his appearance. Even out of his hero outfit and in the dim lighting of the bar, there was no mistaking Pro Hero Chargebolt.

Just as you’d been about to say your goodbyes, preparing to feign some pressing obligation to slip away, he told you about Izuku's upcoming birthday and subsequent party. He’d even emphasized that he knew that Midoriya would love for you to come, if only for a short while—he was only in Japan for a few weeks after all. He caught the look of hesitation on your face, and ensured you no one would fault you if you couldn’t make it, before hugging you once more and leaving you to return, more than a little shaken, to your table and your waiting friends.

You throw your legs over the side of your bed, rubbing at your bleary eyes as the memory of your encounter with Denki plays back in your mind it takes a moment to remember what exactly had awoken you. You pause, tilting your head towards your door and listening to see if you can hear any movement in your apartment. Another light thump somewhere outside your bedroom, and the sudden light peeking in from underneath your door, sends you scrambling towards it. Throwing it open, you blink against the light in the hallway. It’s brighter than you anticipate, and you have to wait a moment for your eyes to adjust.

You can hardly believe what you’re seeing once everything finally comes into focus.

Katsuki is there, upright but slightly slumped against the wall next to your front door. He’s struggling to hang his coat up on the coat rack that at one time was covered in both of your jackets, but now holds only yours.

Staring at him where he stands, it feels sort of like you’re seeing a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse from sleep, clearly indicating what you’d been doing only a few moments prior—as if the frilly pink pyjama shorts haven’t altogether given you away.

He looks at you then; his eyes full contemptuous but swimming with something heavier, more sorrowful. He makes a final attempt to hang his coat on the coat rack, but it falls gracelessly to the floor. Both of your gazes travel to the crumpled heap of fabric, neither of you saying anything.

He leans down to pick it up, stumbling slightly forward but overcorrecting his sudden mistake and therefore falling backwards; he lands flat on his ass, his legs outstretched in front of him.

Oh, he’s hammered.

“Are you drunk?” you ask him, though you already know the answer.

“So what if I am?” he counters, his sharp chin jutting out indignantly as he looks up at you.

Like a child, you think. Stubborn, petulant, recalcitrant.

“Why are you in my apartment?” You cross your arms over your chest as you frown down at him.

There’s a beat of tense silence that passes between you.

“You moved that ugly fuckin’ lamp,” Katuski notes after a moment, ignoring your question and squinting at a table lamp across the room from you both.

“It’s not ugl—don’t change the subject,” you start to defend your choice in home decor but suddenly remember the situation at hand, shaking your head tersely. You grit your teeth, hands folding into tight fists at your sides. “Why are you in my apartment?”

“I always seem to end up here anyway, so I figured this time I’d just”—he jingles the keys (your keys) that he has clutched in his hand, up until this point unbeknownst to you—“let myself in.”

“You know that’s breaking and entering, right? Unlawful entry into someone else’s dwelling? I could call the police,” you say to him, but you both know that the threat is as empty as explaining the law to the number three Pro Hero is pointless. His previous words fully register after another moment passes, and you immediately furrow your brow. “What do you mean you ‘always end up here’? I haven’t seen you in months.”

Katsuki’s head lolls against his shoulder, his narrowed eyes scanning the apartment behind you as if searching for any other changes you may have made in his absence.

“Whenever I have a little too much to drink, I end up here,” he says the words casually, as though it isn’t the most preposterous thing you’ve ever heard, but his eyes remain fixed on a point behind you. “At first I’d just sit around on the steps outside for a bit, but then I started to comin’ to your door. Don’t even know how I get here most of the time, and just end up staring at the numbers on the door for a while. Sometimes I can hear you inside, if you’re up late and haven’t gone to bed yet, and I want to knock but I don’t,” he murmurs, his eyes finally sliding over to meet your disbelieving gaze.

“Oh, poor Katsuki,” you practically spit the words, feigning sympathy for him that’s clearly undermined by an embittered roll of your eyes. “You’re the one who broke up with me, remember?”

“I broke up with you?” he asks incredulously, his words running together thanks to his inebriated tongue. “Mind telling me exactly when that fuckin’ happened?”

You blink at him, your lips parted. You know he’s drunk, but you didn’t think he was so drunk he’d lost his grip on reality. “

“Probably when you moved all your stuff out of my apartment?”

“You’re the one who packed it all up in boxes!” he exclaims, suddenly louder and more sharp than before.

“You sent Eijirou here to get it!” you match his elevated tone.

This is how you and Katsuki fight. Toe to toe. Constantly one-upping the other. Neither of you willing to back down.

It’s why the breakup hadn’t made any sense. One day he was there, the two of you got into a little argument, and then he was gone. The fight wasn’t even over anything important; you can barely remember it now, six months on. But Kirishima showed up at your door a week later asking for Bakugo’s things, and you hadn’t heard from him since.

At least not until now.

“But you gave me back all my stuff. What else was I supposed to think?” he asks, peering up at you. "I thought you finally had enough of me."

Your chest suddenly feels too tight for the breaths you're trying to pull into your lungs.

“Eiji—I—he said he was here to get your stuff. I just… I assumed he meant you wanted it all,” your voice grows weaker as you speak, and your tone borders dangerously close to remorse.

“I told him to get some of my stuff; books and a pair of sneakers and some hoodies and a few other things I needed. I didn’t ask you to give me back every gift I’d ever given you,” he says, eyes turning downcast.

“Oh,” you say ineloquently, more than a little dumbfounded, unsure of what else you could possibly be expected to say in that moment.

“And then tonight, you show up at Deku’s party with some other guy like that’s not the weirdest fucking thing in the world. Like nothing about the past five years meant anything to you. And I just have to act like that’s totally normal and doesn’t bother me. But it does bother me, a lot.”

Katsuki’s eyes snap up to you.

“How can you do that?” he adds the last part, eyes trained unwaveringly on yours, with his rough voice barely a whisper.

“Do what?” you ask him, your words sharp.

“It’s only been a few months and you’re just… you brought a guy,” he grapples to find the right words, the conflict playing out across his face as he struggles to get them out.

“He’s my coworker.” Your cheeks burn, an uncomfortable warmth prickling across them. “When Denki invited me, he told me to bring a friend if I wanted. We were both working late tonight so I asked if he wanted to come with me and grab a quick drink so I didn’t have to go alone.”

“Are you fucking him?” Katsuki’s next words are blunt and unexpected, knocking the air from your lungs for a moment.

“Katsuki!” you snap at him, scandalized and flustered by the startlingly intrusive question.

“Don’t I have any right to know if you found someone else? Don’t I have a right to know that I should finally move on? Instead of agonizing every day over what even fuckin’ happened between us? We never got any closure, just a couple boxes of my shit and a bag full of things that remind me of you.”

You feel a knot forming, sticky and obstructive, at the back of your throat.

“I can’t even bring myself to throw them away,” he continues rambling while you had nothing to say, “all those gifts just sit there in the back of my closet, a constant reminder of you looming over me. They make me miserable all the fuckin’ time, and I still can’t make myself get rid of them.”

“Just give them away or something,” you mutter, eyes fixed to a point on the wall on the other side of the room, unwilling or otherwise unable to meet his gaze.

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” The question rips through his chest like a growl, and the ardent sincerity of his words forces you to finally look at him, only to find his eyes blazing in anger as he stares up at you from his seat on the floor. “But in spite of how easy it may have been for you to get rid of them, it’s not so easy for me,” he snaps, eyes narrowing.

“Then Kaminari tells me how he ran into you the other day and invited you to Deku’s party, and I couldn’t help but have this twisted glimmer of fuckin’ hope that if I could just see you again that I might maybe get a chance to talk to you about things, or apologize, or… I dunno”—he shakes his head at the thought—“and then you walk in with that guy.”

“He’s my coworker,” you repeat insistently for the second time, unsure of why you even feel such a desperate need to defend yourself—it’s not like you’ve done anything wrong.

“So you’ve said,” Katsuki mutters sourly, looking away.

“He’s engaged,” you add, the words springing forth from your lips almost frantically, to further your explanation.

Katsuki’s eyes go wide and snap back up to look at you.

“To you?” he asks, tone verging on the edge of panic.

“No, you idiot,” you hiss at his failure to grasp what you’re saying, running a hand over your weary face.

He blinks, your words slow to process in his alcohol-addled brain.

“Oh.” Finally the pieces of what you’re saying to him fall into place. “To someone else.”

“Yes,” you sigh the word exasperatedly.

“Oh,” he says, the closest to sheepish you think Bakugou Katsuki is capable of being. He clears his throat before adding: “I probably shouldn’t have shoulder checked him on my way to the washroom earlier, then.”

“Probably not.” You snort a bit at the confession, not finding it difficult to believe considering how Katsuki had glowered across the bar at the two of you for most of the evening.

A silence settles over you both then; him still sitting on the floor in your entryway, and you still standing a good distance away from him with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m sorry I broke into your apartment,” he says finally, “I might be a bit drunk.”

“I’ve gathered that,” you sigh, “and it’s… fine.”

It’s not, you can’t help but think, but right now you just want to smooth things over (if that’s even possible) and get yourself back to bed.

“I just really wanted to see you,” he adds quietly.

“You saw me a few hours ago,” you remind him halfheartedly.

“That’s not the same, I wanted to see you here, like this,” he says, gesturing to you weakly, “sleepy and grumpy and in your pyjamas.”

You swallow hard over the lump that develops in your throat at his words.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he adds again after another moment passes.

“I don’t think this is the best time for that,” you say to him firmly. “For a few glaringly obvious reasons.”

You stay locked in an intense stare, waiting with bated breath to see what the fuck he’s going to come up with next.

You certainly aren’t expecting what he eventually says.

“Think ‘m gonna puke,” he mumbles, his brows pulling together thoughtfully.

“Mother fucker,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut in disbelief.

You begrudgingly help Katsuki stagger into your washroom, where he drops to his knees in front of the toilet. You crouch behind him, a little bit hesitantly, eventually reaching out and rubbing his back lightly as he retches into the porcelain.

Once the worst of it is over, you stand and leave the room; returning moments later with a glass of cold water and some ginger tablets to help settle his stomach. He’s shifted in the time you’ve been gone, and is leaning back against the bathtub with his head drooping slightly when you return. He accepts both of your offerings without comment, swallowing down the small pills before guzzling the water.

You wet a washcloth under the tap as he does so, watching him cautiously from the corner of your eye as he tips his head back and drains his glass in three long swallows. You carefully wring most of the cool water from the cloth in the sink before folding it in half.

“You’re unbelievable, do you know that?” You sigh, kneeling beside him, taking the empty glass from his hands and setting it aside. You reach up and push his blonde hair back to keep it from getting wet as you press the cloth to his forehead.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his cheeks almost as pink as his pouted lips as he stares up at you with his drunken, bleary eyes. His hands reach up to hold the cloth on his own, rough fingertips brushing against the backs of your knuckles, and you let your hand fall from his face, settling uncertainly in your own lap.

“It’s fine,” you repeat for the second time, even though nothing about the situation at hand is remotely fine—no matter how many times you say it. Your eyes scan his face, so familiar and yet somehow so foreign to you, and you sigh deeply. “Let’s get you home, Kats.”

It isn’t an easy feat, but you somehow manage to get Katsuki back into his coat, out of your apartment, into your car, and eventually all the way to the door of his home without major incident. You wait outside the door to the apartment with the man beside you practically unconscious; you’re supporting the weight of his entire frame as he leans into you, but he’s much heavier than you are, and your knees are threatening to give way. Thankfully the door opens after a moment, and Kirishima Eijiro’s apologetic face greets you from the other side.

You’d called him on your drive to Bakugou’s apartment, and he’d agreed to meet you there to help you with him. He’d obviously used his spare key to let himself in ahead of your arrival.

“Hi, I’ve got him,” Eijirou says, reaching out towards the man slumped against your side who flops from your arms and into his with a little grunt. Kirishima doesn’t so much as falter under his friend’s added weight.

You follow them into the apartment hesitantly, unsure of what else to do. Surely you should leave now, right? Eiji’s got it from here, it’s late, you really have no business hanging around since your part is done; and yet you still find yourself shutting the door behind you and trailing along after them as they made their way slowly to Katsuki’s bedroom.

Kirishima sits Bakugou down on the edge of his neatly-made bed as they shuffle into the room, the drunker of the two falling backwards on top of the blankets with a groan.

Katsuki’s bedroom smells familiar in a way that makes you ache—sweet like nitroglycerine, and clean like fresh linens.

“I’ll take his coat,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t sound as pained as you feel, and Eijirou nods—helping his friend out of the jacket you’d struggled so hard to get him into not very long before. He hands it back to you, moving next to remove the man's shoes.

You carry the coat to the rack hanging on the back of Katsuki’s bedroom door, the one he normally reserves for towels, hanging it up on an open hook. You hesitate, casting a fleeting glance back to the two preoccupied men behind you, before sticking your hand into the pocket of the jacket. You search around for a moment, until you feel your fingers graze the ‘#1 Grandpa’ keychain you’d jokingly gifted to Katsuki a few years prior when you’d first given him a set of keys to your apartment. You fish the set from the pocket, heart thrumming dully against your ribs as you take in the now well-worn keychain, turning it over in your hand. The paint has nearly all rubbed off over the years—leaving only tarnished metal behind. Part of you wonders why he even kept it. You clutch the keys tightly against your palm so they didn’t jingle and give you away, and turn towards the two once more.

“‘M in my outside clothes.”

“I know, man. I’m trying to help you out here,” Eijirou says, but you swear he sounds almost as amused as he does exhausted, wrestling the button-up shirt off of Katuski’s body and tossing it onto the floor.

“I’ve got a hamper f’r that you slob,” the blonde slurs, waving vaguely towards the laundry hamper on the other side of the room.

You hover by the door as you observe them bickering back and forth—though the bickering is fairly one-sided on Katsuki’s part—unsure of what exactly you ought to do next. Eijirou and Katsuki begin to talk quietly amongst themselves at the edge of the bed, exchanging hushed words that you aren’t quite able to overhear, and after watching them interact for a moment, you take it as your time to leave.

You slip from the room silently, making your way back towards the front door.

“Hey, wait,” Kirishima’s voice calls out, quick footfalls following as he trails after you in your retreat.

You turn, watching him step away from Katsuki’s bedroom door which he leaves slightly ajar after casting one final cursory glance back in the room towards his friend. He pads towards you, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants that he must have changed into between getting home from Izuku’s party and getting your unceremonious midnight phone call.

“Thank you for that,” he says appreciatively once he reaches you, breathing a deep sigh. “He left the party and no one knew where he went. If we’d known that he was—“

“It’s alright, Kiri,” you say, cutting off the man’s apologetic rambling, a half-hearted smile on your lips.

“It’s not though,” he replies with a solemn shake of his head, “I’m sure that wasn’t pretty.”

“I’ve survived worse,” you laugh, but it’s strained.

“Still,” Kirishima says, uncharacteristically serious, “thank you for calling me. And for taking care of him.”

A silence settles over you both then, a little bit awkward, neither of you quite sure what else to say.

“He asked to see you before you go,” the red-haired man before you finally admits, although it sounds distinctly like he had been contemplating withholding this information from you as he clears his throat a little. “I can tell him you’re already gone if you want, I understand.”

You hesitate before shaking your head in dissent. “It’s alright, I’ll go and say goodbye.”

Something about the word goodbye makes panic rise up in your throat, bitter and unpalatable, but you try your best to swallow it down. Eijirou nods, stepping aside so you can pass him and return to the room you’d only just left. You take a deep breath before pushing open the door.

You’re surprised to not see Katsuki where you’d left him, peering curiously at the empty bed—only a crease in the comforter to show any trace of the man you were expecting to find there. A sound to your right catches your attention and you turn to see Katsuki, down on his hands and knees, rifling through his closet.

“What are you doing?” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest like an exasperated parent who’s caught their child misbehaving.

He doesn’t answer your question, making no sign to acknowledge he's even heard it, continuing earnestly with his task.

“Bakugou,” you chided him, and when you again received no response you repeated yourself more firmly, “Bakugou Katsuki, so help me I—.”

His head snaps up to look at you and you falter. You gaze turns to what he’s clutching tightly in his hands, having finally tracked it down.

It’s the bag of gifts you’d returned to him.

There wasn’t even much in the bag, to be fair. A pair of earrings he’d given you after you’d only been dating for a few months, never worn because he didn’t realize your ears weren’t pierced. A necklace he’d gotten you for your first anniversary to make up for the earring blunder. A pair of mittens he’d gotten you a few christmas’ ago because you always tucked your frigid hand into his much warmer one while the two of you were out together in the cold—to keep you warm when he wasn’t there. Little things, though each one meant so much.

You and Katsuki had never really been the type of couple to lavish each other in gifts. It was time that both of you sought most dearly. Moments, increasingly difficult to find with Katsuki’s impossible schedule, reserved for just the two of you to share. Quiet in their intimacy. Precious in their rarity.

“Please take these,” he says, his voice hoarse but unmistakably desperate as he peers up at you from his place on his knees. It makes your heart twinge painfully.

“I can’t,” you say to him, your tone gentler than it had been a moment prior when you were on the brink of chewing him out.

“Please?” he repeats himself again in a supplicating but equally insistent way, scrambling to his feet unsteadily. “They belong to you.”

“Katsuki, those things don’t belong to me any more than these”—you hold up the keys that you’d been concealing in your hand throughout the exchange—“belong to you.”

He looks at the keys dangling from your fingers for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise.

“My keys,” he murmurs in a soft, sad way.

“You can’t keep coming to my apartment. It’s not healthy,” you say, your heart feeling like it has managed to lodge itself firmly into your throat. “For either of us.”

His eyes drop towards the floor, still clutching the bag of gifts he’d given you tightly in his hands. You swallow hard.

“You didn’t even know I was there,” he says quietly, but with an unequivocal lilt of culpability in his voice.

“But I do now,” you say, your voice wavering a little in spite of your most concerted efforts, “and I’m always going to wonder if you’re there waiting outside the door.”

He nods, sniffing a bit. You watch the way that his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, unable to tear your eyes away from the skin your lips have pressed against so many times. You wonder if the crook of his neck still smells the same; still feels the same to hide your face in at the end of a long day. The memories flooding back are almost too much for you to bear, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly.

“I should go,” you mutter, forcing your eyes open and your gaze back to his face with every modicum of willpower you have left.

“I’m scared if you leave I’ll never see you again,” he says, the words that slip from his lips seem surprising even to him, his eyes widening as he registers them like he’d barely even thought them out. “I don’t want this to be my last memory of you.”

You freeze, his words wounding you in an unexpected way.

Truthfully, you don’t want that either.

You stand in silence for a moment as the weight of his words settles over you both. They loom overhead, stealing all of the air from the room and crushing in on you both painfully.

You reach out, taking the bag of gifts gently from his hands where he had been fidgeting with it nervously. You press his set of keys to your apartment into his palm.

“Come see me again when you’re sober. I’ll give these back to you then, and you can give those back to me. Properly,” you say, adding the last word with pointed emphasis.

Katsuki looks down at the keys in his hand, his eyes flicking back up to you a little incredulously.

“Okay,” he agrees with a little nod.

“And text me before you show up next time,” you say warningly, your cheeks puffing out a little, “I have a delicate sleep schedule.”

“Okay,” he repeats again with an obliging nod, but you almost think he’s fighting back a laugh.

“Besides,” you say with a sigh, shaking your head in relative disbelief at the situation you’ve found yourself in, “you probably won’t even remember any of this tomorrow, anyway. So what good would that memory do you?”

#bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou #bnha drabble #bnha writing #writing

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miguel-ohara-wifey · 11 months

Text

I’d never let you go

Chapter 1

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

Rating; 18+/fluff/hurt+comfort

Warnings; post break up reader, cheating, self hating reader, repressed feelings, friends to lovers, negative self talk, brief nudity, sexual tension, romantic tension, soft!Miguel, lotta build up until I release next chapter, I’ll also be making individual warnings for each chapter instead of the whole fic, darker themes later on

Prompt; After you caught your fiancée with another woman. You retreat to your only long standing friends place to spend some time. Unwittingly digging up years long buried feelings between you two.

Word count; 3.4 K

You're soaked like a human mop by the time you reach Miguel’s door. Hair closely hugging the sides of your head due to the downpour, as you locked your arms together to huddle as much warmth to yourself as possible. Your own heart almost starts sizzling out in this unbearably cold autumn rain.

Miguel finally makes it to the door, to see the mess of running mascara and chattering teeth. Being his college crush and estranged close friend at his door in such a state.

“C-can I stay here for a bit?”

Miguel blurted out; “Of course, get in!”

He sneaks his arm at your back shuffling you inside quickly. A bubble of intangible yet potent warmth overcomes your body from the house's heating.

“Thank you” you said after sniffling, and sniffling once more when finished.

“What’s going on?”

His beautiful puppy eyes hanging below his messy brown curls and narrow eyebrows. He then realized he was still partially holding you, dropping his arm from your body as you answered.

“I’d rather not talk about it, can I get a bath?”

He seemed hurt by you not telling him, but he let it go.

“Yes please, you should. Up the stairs to the third door on the right.”

You gave a weak smile, taking all the strength left in your body to pull each side of your mouth up. But you smiled at him regardless. Your lips coated in rainwater, able to taste it in your mouth.

“Thank you Miguel.”

His eyes couldn’t help but follow you as you walked up the stairs, first divorcing your soggy shoes from your feet at the doorstep. Then walking up the steps still huddled into your own chest. Giving your rib cage the tightest hug possible. Still shaking from the cutting of the winds and water.

All sorts of thoughts spun through his head of what could’ve happened. Or who did this to you. But that second thought only made him angry. By all means you’re entirely different from when you meet at college. Only kept together long term by Facebook groups after graduation.

But your voice never faded from his memory, the specific hue of your hair and eyes too. How “but the point is” and “anyway” were the phrases you said most often. Wondering what are some of your new favorite songs now so much time has passed. How he wants to get to know you all over again. Even as circumstances weren’t ideal. But this wasn’t about him, by the time he heard the water rushing through the pipes past the walls of his home. He realized the only clean towels are still in the dryer.

You soon shed all the ragged clothes. Still heavy with moments from hours ago. When you saw your fiancée with another woman. Catching them as you went through the front door to surprise him early from work.

The thought dissipated from your mind as your near frozen skin, was melted by the tender warmth found under the surface of the water. You gently pushed yourself down fully into the secluded depths. You wouldn’t use any of his soaps or products. You just needed to get warm, then you heard a knock on the door. You saw Miguel’s wonderfully muscular arm reaching past the crack he made of the bathroom entrance. Gripping in his palm a folded, coal black towel. You instinctively retreated further down the top of the tub's marble walls. You swear there's more white marble in this bathroom than there is in most Greek museums.

“I promise I’m not looking-“ he awkwardly insisted, his entire head aimed at the wooden white door. Trying to find the top of the sink counter without sight. As he wiggled his arm about you chuckled.

“Promise there’s nothing to see anyway…”

He had a hundred ways to contradict that; the comment sunk his heart into his stomach. He’s seen you in a swimsuit before. The curves of your body, your wonderfully soft looking chest. How much he has a thing for your color and length of hair. Your smiles always reach your eyes. The way he could plant his chin right on top of your head. But just finally managed to sit the towel down. Once it was in your reach he quickly shut the door. He knew now wasn’t the time.

But by god now his head is nothing but thoughts of you and him. Partially submerged in the tub but equally nude; his fingers traveling through your hair. Moaning his name as you tightly palm his shoulders in ecstasy. All the ways he could make you sound and feel. If you’d let him. But he knows it’s just a fantasy. But once snapped back to reality, Miguel concluded.

“There, sorry; forgot the clean towels weren’t in there.”

Your throat was filled with the snotty remains of hours crying and being stuck in the rain. Revealing itself in the stuffiness of your nose, pitching your voice.

“Thank you Miguel, I’ll just be a minute.”, He called back out

“No stay in there as long as you need, you can use my soaps.”

You turned your head to see one partially used bar of white soap and one brand of conditioner. You giggled asking,

“Soaps plural?”

He nodded to himself just past the door

“Hehe yeah, knock yourself out.”

Well since all your belongings are back at your fiancé’s place you can’t be picky. You grasped the bar of soaps with your right hand and started massaging your flesh with it. Getting the scent of pine engrained in all your pores. You can’t deny it’s the exact smell you picked up on when Miguel escorted you inside. Now you can imagine your head resting on his chest like a pillow. The heat of the bath now the heat running from his skin to yours. How his palms laced through your hair as he-WHAT. Stop! What would Miguel O’Hara, millionaire tech leader. And complete hunk wants anything to do with you? Just cause you were in study groups and hung out sometimes after a few years in college doesn’t mean anything. At any rate, he's just being nice.

Upon exiting a decent bath; having your clothes being put through Miguel’s washer. He underestimated how you in his clothes would make him feel. His oversized Visions academy college t-shirt. How it swaddles over your hips and stops above your tights. And his black pajama bottoms are collecting at your ankles. It only makes sense considering he's a head and a half taller than you. You wrapped like a blanket in his clothes, it’s the cutest and simultaneously hottest thing he’s ever seen. But he can’t focus on that, as you are slumped on his couch. Eating the pizza rolls he warmed up for you. Even when you’re slouching like a sloth, eating and acting as slowly as one too.

You’re a goddess, and it doesn’t take long to notice Miguel’s eyeing you

“Yeah?” You ask

“What, nothing.” You snapped him out of it, he nervously sat next to you. Wondering how to broach it, the reason why you’re here. What you’re insistent not to say. He wants to help you, but it’s been years and doesn’t want to overstep. You sighed to cut the awkward silence down as it formed.

“You want to know what happened, right?” He nodded as his eyes were glued to you.

You aimed your vision down as you played with your own fingernails. Explaining

“My fiancée cheated on me, since he owns the place he threw me out. I’ll get my stuff tomorrow but I just can’t go back there now…” you started to break as your second sentence started.

Miguel saw red, the edges of his vision shrinking as his face contorted into a bitter grimace. That fucker cheats on you, then has the audacity to throw you out and collect your stuff on HIS schedule? Miguel wants to rearrange that guy's jaw with his fist. How dare he be lesser than what you deserve. Which is everything, a hard expectation to climb to but still. Miguel knows you’re more than worth it.

Tears washing down your now pine scented face as you desperately tried to suck them back in. Miguel arose from his knee jerk rage to witness how you were burning up inside at the embarrassment you were feeling to show up to his house like this. But even more so you’re crying again after all the nice things he’s done for you. You swiped away the streams of water formed between your eyes and your mouth. A thin taste of salt now on your lips as you say.

“Sorry, I’ll go as soon as my clothes are dry. I cant just stay here all night….”

Miguel didn’t care, he wanted you with him always. He regretted letting you walk out the door all those years ago. And never making an effort to truly reconnect.

“No you don’t have to, you can stay here the night if you have nowhere else. I’ll help you with your stuff tomorrow too.”

Guilt cut through your face as you looked at him. You haven’t had a long talk with him since graduation. You hardly know each other now. But he’s doing all this for you. In all honesty such kindness is not something you were built to comprehend.

“No, I bothered you enough-“

“You could never bother me.”

Miguel’s whispered interruption almost made you blush, you truly had no other options when considering it. So you relented,

“Okay, I will then, thank you.”

That smile appeared again, god he wishes he could make you smile like that all the time. When he gripped the plastic dish in your lap sprinkled with pizza rolls. He placed it onto the coffee table in front of you two as she offered.

“Come on, lemme make you some real food…”

He stood from the light grey cushions of his couch as you cackled.

“Wait! Miguel O’Hara can cook now!?” You almost shouted.

You trailed after him, spinning himself around to look at you as he made his way towards his kitchen.

“Yup! I can shred cheese and everything.”

~~15 minutes later~~

The bubbling aroma of pork broth flooded the kitchen as you recounted a fond college memory.

“-Then Dr. Death came by and Brett jumped in the bushes! Right as he was strolling towards us-“

You laughed louder and harder than you have in years. Recalling how you called the oldest prof you two had “Dr. Death”. Also the fact he is usually dressed in black literally dawning the primary shade of the grim reaper. And how you two loved your classmate Brett but he wasn’t the smartest.

Recounting when Miguel and Brett tried skipping class, only to get caught. And Bretts brilliant solution was to jump in the bushes. AFTER the aforementioned prof already spotted them.

You laughed so hard a portion of the snot built up in your throat from crying burst out. You grabbed a napkin and tried to conceal the fact. But Miguel’s eyes were on you always, so he noticed.

“Hehe, that’s still so adorable of you.” Miguel commented. You wiped the snot away facing the trash can to throw the remains away as you answered.

“It wasn’t cute then and it’s definitely not now Miguel…”

He watched you longingly saying

“Agree to disagree,”

You faced him again after cleaning off from under your nose. He was tossing the ramen noodles to make em nice and plump when eaten.

“Anyway, I haven’t had authentic ramen in a long ass while…thank you.”

The rain is doting and falling along the windows aligning the walls of Miguel’s kitchen. Casting a faint gray glow as the sun still somewhat moved through the black clouds. The drumming of water along the rooftops. As it splashed in harmony from where you stood, look at it. It was beautiful, as you peered outside. Miguel’s attention was once again stolen, looking at you leaning out. With your forearms on the edge of his sink. Eyes glued to the window staring out at the wood scenery. He was a few miles from his neighbors. Giving a perfect view of the forest beset by the thunder and rain.

“Your place is so awesome,” you wistfully compliment.

He wanted this place to be for you too, his chest started closing in on itself. His own rib cage is helpless to stop his internal organs from squeezing at his heart. As he wanted so desperately to be like this always. You and him in a house, watching the weather of the days go by. But, it’s too late now. He’s accepted that. You continued;

“Seriously, I’d give the place some color like someone who isn’t a colorblind oil painter but I’d love to live in a place just like this…”

“What was that about my interior design abilities?”

“They don’t exist.”

You quipped back with a raised eyebrow; the sad desperation from earlier was all but erased from the front of your head. By just less than a sixteen minute conversation with Miguel again. Roasting him how his house has only 3 colors through every room even the furnitures.

He left the noodles in the pot as he approached you on the other side of the sink.

“Oh so you could do so much better?”

“I KNOW I’m capable of better, it is my job after all…”

Now Miguel wasn’t expecting that

“You’re an interior designer now?”

You swallowed hard having to recount a regret since you and Miguel parted ways.

“Y-yeah, it pays way better here than being a journalist that's for sure. Less people sending you death threats to boot…”

Miguel’s grin from your earlier topic of conversation faded,

“Plus Eric encouraged me to change so….” “encouraged” was a word to put it, Miguel inquired aggressively puzzled.

“Whose Eric?”

You sighed, crossing your arms after leaning your back against his sink. Now somewhat shoulder to shoulder with Miguel, he still was way taller than you even when leaning as much as he was.

“Eric from college, the one in our first study group. He’s, he’s my ex-fiancé…the one I’m here about.”

He remembers him well, a guy who got handsy with you more than once without your consent. Miguel would hold his shock if it wasn’t completely in character for him to cheat.

You whimpered as your lips quivered

“I should’ve known better I know; and I mean I got desperate so I figured he was better than nothing.”

Miguel couldn’t help but be physically wounded by the sound of you thinking so little of yourself.

“He’s an absolute disgusting moron, even more cause he cheated on someone like you…you’re beautiful, smart, creative, successful, funny. Good riddance, he’s not in your league by miles.”

Miguel said so with his full chest, leaning his towards you so you can feel the thumping of his heart. To pump every word out of his mouth so you know he meant it. You almost happy cried for the first time today, you leaned your head on his shoulder closest to you.

“Thank you Miguel…”

You two locked eyes, just now noticing the tiniest of dimples in his cheeks. And the lightest shade of brown in his gorgeous eyes. How his hair shined with lightly established product, and his black shirt somewhat hugging his body. Revealing his amazingly toned chest. You can’t deny he's the sexiest man you’ve ever met. And it was a shock to see the typically stoic and serious Miguel. So soft and open all the time. You’ve seen that before of him, but in quietly selective moments. However his heart is on his sleeve with you. You would feel it beating on his every word and expression. Nothing to hide and no hiding in sight.

Now here you two were now alone, under the cover of fall showers huddled in warmth under the roof of his home. Moments away from sitting down to have a meal together. Coated in his favorite scent and covered in his clothes. This is a dream come true, the only part that’s yet to take place. Which is him finally making love to you. Likes he’s desperately wanted for years. The gap between your mouths is mere inches, it’d be a breath away to close the space. Destroy the last line of friendship you two had. In exchange for gasping each other’s names, huddling your bodies so close not even air is between you two. As you test the foundation of his bed with your love. All he needed to do was grapple for your lips to make it so.

Not before telling you how much his feelings haven’t changed since college. He’s zeroed in on his work enough to pretend they had gone away. But just the sight of you at his door was enough to know that was a lie. He wants you, he loves you.

However he retreats his head further away from you.

“Anything for my friends….” He doesn’t look at you as Miguel says it, his voice and grin dropped. You took the hint and retracted your head from his shoulder. Moments later his kitchen clock beeped, signaling the ideal ramen cooking time had passed.

“Oh thank god, I’m starving.” You admitted, you stood up on your own and turned to face him.

“The bowls are right there,” he pointed to the line of cabinets behind you.

“Furthest one down, those are the bowls. I’ll get the food ready.” You nodded gathering the bowls in your hands.

~~One great pork ramen meal later~~

“Jesus Christ…that’s easily some of the best food I’ve ever had.” You complimented as your emptied ramen bowl was laid before you on Miguel’s table.

“But seriously solve the mystery for me, how did you learn to cook?”

Miguel swallowed the last of his own broth to respond.

“Well when I started working out more, I couldn’t just eat fast food crap. So I taught myself how to cook, destroyed a couple of kitchens. Tried a lot of YouTube channels but I did it! Ramen is very healthy but filling, gives you a lot of protein too.”

By his flawless body you can definitely tell his techniques work. “Welp they definitely work.” Scanning up and down his form unconsciously, as you partially didn’t mean to say that out loud. You thought he was hot before but my god now he looks photoshopped in real life.

“Why thank you.” You swore you saw him blush for a moment, but that was probably in your imagination. Blanketed by Miguel’s massive clothes; your stomach hugging warm broth and noodles. You’re more than ready to hit the hay.

“I’ll clean up my bowl and head to the couch for the night,”

He shrugs grabbing your bowl for you anyway

“Don’t worry, I have a guest room. Just across the hall to mine. Farthest from the hallway to the left.”

You nodded, as he escorted the bowls to his sink. By the time you heard the clatter of the glass meeting the thin metal of the sink. You built up the nerve to say one thing that’s been on your mind.

“Hey,” he without pause turned his attention to you, awaiting your follow up. Upon standing up, and moving further towards him. To where you stood right beside him.

“I just wanna say, I’m sorry for not keeping in touch.”

“Hey, it’s not just your fault. I could’ve kept in touch too. Just got busy. And life stuff happened.” His eyes, words growing fainter as he continued on.

You huffed, “Yeah but, I feel bad cause…you’ve come so far. Look at this house, look at what you can do now and what you’ve achieved. I just wish I was there to see that all happen for you. I’ve never stopped caring about you either Miguel. I’m proud of you, ya know?” He felt like crying; but held it together enough to say.

“Thanks, that means a lot to me…”

You gave him an admittedly awkwardly timed, but meaningful hug. Your hands snuggled up at his sides, soon after Miguel nervously placed his palms just below your shoulder blades. The hug was a few moments, as he accidentally received a whiff of your hair. And you feel just how muscular he really was. You two parted, regretfully.

“So, g’night friend.” You walked out of the kitchen, he couldn’t help but trial his sight after you.

#miguel o’hara #miguel 'ohara x fem!reader #spiderverse #romance #Spiderman 2099 #friends to lovers #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #I’d never let you go

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