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lost-between-letters · 2 years

Text

Talk

Pairing: Crowley X Reader (he/him)

Requested by: anon

Warnings: body image issues, Crowley using insults as love language

Word Count: 1,190

Summary: insecurities, Crowley's friendly insults because he is Like That and a confession

"Objectively speaking, am I really that ugly?" The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. The thought had been gnawing at his brain for the better part of the day and apparently wanted to get out and in the open now. Took him by surprise too, that fucker.

Crowley's head shot up from the contract he was working on, brows furrowed. "Pardon?"

Yeah, no he wasn't gonna repeat that. Y/N pulled his shoulders up and raised the lore book back up to his face. "Uh nothin'."

A beat of silence followed that made Y/N hopeful that he was off the hook. The words on the paper were actually making sense after a breath or two and he buried himself in the source material to escape the embarrassment of his words.

Since Crowley was more or less allied with the Winchesters - and Y/N by proximity -, this had strangely enough become a part of their normal schedule. At first, the demon had showed up sporadically, whenever they were about to be really really fucked and helped them. Allegedly to have something to hold over their heads.

Only that he never took them up on it. Sure, they ganked a few demons here and there in Crowley's interest but that was it. Still, it had become a regular occurrence to see Y/N and the king of hell working in peace together. Dean wasn't too happy about it but he wasn't covering everything with devil's traps anymore so he had to be secretly okay with it.

And Y/N had made the mistake of striking up conversations here and there. And because he was talking to supernatural beings on a daily basis, it didn't faze him the least to notice that they were getting along. Oh, how naive.

Of course, Y/N's life was never that easy. Soon, more than friendly feelings had followed. Naturally, it had to be the king of hell and not, y'know, someone that he would have a pinch of a chance with.

The book disappearing right beneath his hands shook Y/N out of his thoughts.

Confused, he looked up and was faced with a pissed off Crowley.

He was leaning against the table, not two feet away from Y/N, arms crossed and eyes burning holes (fortunately not literal ones) into his skull. "Are we gonna ignore that Winchester level low amount of self esteem or is there a possibility that I can punch some sense into you?"

"...What?" Y/N leaned back in his chair, taken aback by the intensity in Crowley's voice. And his glare. That glare was terrifying.

The demon huffed. "Let's take this from a different angle, mouse. Who exactly told you, you were ugly?"

"Uhm," yeah, well that was not the reaction he had expected so excuse him for being confused, "no one?"

"So now you're lying as well?" Crowley honest to God tutted, "I can't believe that I'm wasting my time with this."

And there it was. Y/N pushed himself up a little straighter and glared. "Just ignore that I said anything okay? It's dumb anyway."

"The only thing that's 'dumb' here-" if Crowley wasn't freaking him out right now, Y/N would be laughing at the air quotations, "- is that you're being aggravatingly stupid! You are not and will never be ugly, Y/N. Quite the opposite in my humble opinion."

Now, Y/N was truly speechless.

Which did not go unnoticed by Crowley. "Oh come on!"

He threw his arms in the air in annoyance. Only then, Y/N felt how close Crowley had actually gotten. He was standing right in front of him; if Y/N so decided, he could pull the demon down into his lap.

A thought he banned from his mind immediately.

Meanwhile, Crowley was talking again.

"You didn't think that I would spend time with you out of the kindness of my heart, would you?" He said condescendingly and took the last step between Y/N's legs, "no, mouse. One, you're ridiculously hot - just like every of you godforsaken hunters apparently - and two, I enjoy your company. Would in the biblical sense too if you'd just get your head out of your ass."

Y/N just barely swallowed another undignified 'what' and stared instead. Maybe not the wisest choice in the face of this confession but he couldn't help it.

This was a lot to work through, okay?

Only when Crowley made to move away - maybe not quite hurt in his slumped shoulders but something close to it - Y/N unfroze. Employing his handy hunter reflexes, he snatched Crowley's arm before he could snap away (or walk to the door of the bunker and snap away from outside of wardings).

"What." Now, it was Crowley's turn to utter the question.

"Just to be clear-" now that he was standing, the size difference had turned to his advantage and he could look straight at Crowley; clutching his arm tightly, "-you won't punch me in the face if I kiss you now?"

"I will punch you in the face if you don't," he retaliated and yanked Y/N closer unexpectedly.

Which made the kiss more of a headbutting than anything else. At least initially.

Crowley's lips were surprisingly soft on his (and conjured an image of the demon lecturing Dean on toxic masculinity - and if that wasn't a sign for Y/N's brain being dangerously close to melting than he didn't know what else would be) though the hand at the back of his head was possessive enough to make up for it.

And then, Crowley licked his lips and Y/N wasn't thinking at all anymore.

~*~

"Now that we established that -" Crowley was lying half on top of him and still maintained an air of superiority. Like a cat, Y/N thought idly. "-am I getting an explanation for that little breakdown of yours?"

Y/N looked at his fingers that were fumbling with the hem of his shirt. "Does it matter?"

"Hardly. But I still want to know." Crowley managed to sound both annoyed and concerned.

Yeah, Y/N really could have chosen someone easier. But the words and the exact way in which they were spoken made him ridiculously giddy and wanting to share all his secrets. So yeah. No changing those feelings.

He sighed and tipped his head on Crowley's shoulder. "Just the wonderful mix of standing next to underwear model one and underwear model two on a daily basis and on top of that being plagued by the being you're hunting with dreams that are telling you all kinds of nasty things while - by definition of the lore - being unable to lie."

"The creature responsible is dead I assume?" The steel in his voice made Y/N remember that he was talking to a demon.

So he nodded quickly and brushed his lips over the exposed skin under Crowley's shirt.

It had the desired effect. Crowley merely scoffed and relaxed back into the cushions. "They got off easy then."

"Do we have to keep talking?" Y/N complained and tugged on Crowley's collar.

Crowley grinned devilishly. "Not if I can help it."

Y/N had absolutely no objections to that.

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee , @fandomfoodiedancer, @lovesfandoms, @nyotamalfoy, @stixnstripesworld , @foxyjwls007 , @amythedoctor , @alexxavicry

Crowley Taglist: @spn-fanfic-reblog-writes

Join a Taglist

#crowley x you #crowley x reader #crowley supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #male reader #crowley x male!reader

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thirstworldproblemss · 2 years

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Another day and another absolutely amazing writer and human being for your celebration event: One of my absolute favourite people on here, one of the first people I befriended, and just thinking of her gives me such joy: @keeper0fthestars

Not only is she a bundle of warmth and kindness and always supportive of those around her, but that amazing warmth of hers is always reflected in her beautiful writing.

Keeper is not just the keeper of my heart but also my admiration and love which is boundless for her. Her writing was so influential in my own writing and I will always be so eternally grateful to have met her on this little hellsite.

I'm going to cheat by recommending not one, not two but three of her works but truthfully I'd also just want to recommend the whole of her masterlist if I can get away with it.

Midnight Cravings & Other Starry-Eyed Confessions - A Frankie fic that in retrospect turned me into the Frankie freak girl I am today. Keeper must be sick to death of me pimping this one out and constantly screaming about this one, but there is not an ounce of exaggeration when I say that to this day, this is one of my favourite Frankie fics that I consider formative to my experience in this fandom. It shaped so much of my love for Frankie and my own depiction and version of Frankie and the way I write him, and I have often said that my Frankie works are essential fanfics of Keeper's Frankie.

You Were My New Dream (And You Were Mine)* - a Din Djarin fic that made me look at writing a kiss in an entirely new light, the emotions infused in this steals the breath in my lungs and the whole of my inner organs away. It is so beautiful, vivid and ethereal, I have never been the same and still think of the kisses in this fic on a daily basis.

Show Me Give Me - a Javier fic that is just hng ölaskdjöalksjd and gaaaah and ooof and awoga. But also as always the heat is all the more powerful for the love and emotions that is infused in every single sentence.

Favorite Fanworks Author & Fic Rec:

Fanfic by @keeper0fthestars: - Midnight Cravings & Other Starry-Eyed Confessions [Triple Frontier: Frankie x f reader, oneshot] - You Were My New Dream (And You Were Mine) [The Mandalorian: Din x f reader, long onshot] - Show Me Give Me [Narcos: Javier x f reader smutty oneshot]

(Last chance to send in a rec for twp’s “Show Me the Fanworks!” Celebration)

You’re so right, ‘boots, and I second all of this 100%!! Thank you sending in some love for one of my favorite creators on this site <3

Keeper is both an immensely talented writer and one of the kindest, most thoughtful people you’ll ever meet. She writes gorgeously evocative fic that hook right in under your ribcage and pull until you’re so immersed in the stories she creates that returning to the real world is like surfacing from underwater--reality too harsh and sharp and bright after the beauty and off the charts sensuality of the images her words creates.

[Edited to Add: All recs now compiled on the Fav Fanworks Rec List]

#fav fanworks rec ask #frankie morales #din djarin #javier peña #frankie morales x reader #din djarin x reader #javier peña x reader #keeper0fthestars #twp's show me the fanworks celebration #astroboots #q #(not me forgetting this was in my queue and letting it go up without additional love for c… 🤦‍♀️#*unacceptable* bc keeper deserves ALL the love!!)

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underthebednotebook · 1 year

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Sam would be able to handle a sex curse.

Let me tell you what I mean.

Weecest era, Dean is pacing around the room as John is checking Sam up and down, flashlight to the eyes and having him stick his tongue out because Sammy here had been hexed.

It wasn't something deadly, Dean would have stabbed the witch instead of shooting her if it had been deadly, but it was something rather problematic that, from the look of John's face, they didn't necessarily need right now.

Dean had just gotten used to the smells left behind witch hexes. All of them had a bit of sulfur beneath them but mixed in with different things. Sulfur and blood? Death hex. Sulfur and sage? Paralysis hex. So he didn't necessarily know what to think when he smelled sulfur and cut apples.

Not like he could think much of anything when Sammy was still hurt despite the shoving and exclamation that he was 'fine' and that he didn't need to be checked over like a kid.

John puts him in quarantine for a day while he goes to track the witch down, Dean skips target practice to spend time with his baby brother and everything is suddenly alright in the Winchester household.

Except that it isn't, because Dean is waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sam should be doubling over right now, itching to get into something and quell the ache in his gut. His hands should be sweating and feeling numb because they are not touching skin. He should be ripping the clothes from some pretty thing and asking her to please please let him inside, because his Sammy is very polite always has been polite, only for arms to be wrapped around him and dragging him closer and closer and deeper and deeper.

Or maybe...maybe Sammy needed something in him.

Maybe Sammy needed something someone big and strong to man handle his scrawny self, shove him to the nearest surface and tear his mouth open with their tongue while quickly working him out of Dean's hand-me-downs so that Sam's body could finally get the touch that it needs so that his body would stop burning itself from the inside out. His baby brother, in the meantime, would be begging for this man Dean hates that his brain thinks it would be a man but the image won't leave his head to shove his legs upwards, pointing at the ceiling so that the man's fingers would press against that pink it had to be pink, everything about Sammy was so pink sometimes rim and then--

"Hey Dean."

Sammy slaps him away from that train of thought, bringing him back to the couch where he was sitting right next to Sammy.

"...hm what?"

"Wanna know why I'm not affected by the hex?"

Dean probably can't ask for any clarifications because Sam is straddling him, putting his entire weight down on Dean's crotch as the couch dips under them even more. Dean's hands land on Sam's thighs as his baby brother grabs both side of his face and pulls him close.

"I've had to live with you parading around in front of me all of my life. You touching me, caressing me, treating me like a fragile little object despite Dad wanting to break me every chance he gets. I can't remember the last time I had a wet dream and it didn't involve you shoving yourself so far inside me that it almost felt like I could get pregnant."

His ears burn. Dean's ears burn because Sammy did not just say 'I' and 'pregnant' in the same sentence.

"Every single part of me wants you, with our without hex, so whatever that bitch thought she could make me feel for you is not even close to the need I feel for you on a daily basis. So stop worrying because unless you are going to do something about it you're only making more trouble for me by being so close. Trust me, Dean..."

Sam moves closer so that his mouth is ghosting over Dean's ear, all while Dean forgets how to breathe.

"This is child's play."

Almost like it never happened, Sam gets off of him and grabs the pizza box from the floor, heading out of the room. Dean almost reaches out for him but the last string of his sanity is working so hard to keep him a good big brother.

"Sammy."

"...yes?"

Sam opens the door but stops when he hears the bed creak, looking behind him as Dean felt whatever thread holding him together snap like twine.

"...close the door and come here."

#wincest #weecest #spn #I want to write a better drabble for this #I just need to find the time #but honestly how would Sam deal with all his extra horniness when Dean is around?#literally walking porno title #big brother teaches younger brother how to clean guns #LIKE THERE ISNT AN INNUENDO SOMEWHERE #thirteen to sixteen year old Sam lived in a different kind of hell

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daisiesonafield-blog · 2 years

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daisie, about the last you just rb. would u mind explaining this “it does make me think of him protesting too much about how easy and free he feels.” to me? i don’t really get the implications i think?

Hi dear,

I don't know what the op meant personally. But what I understood from that was that, in all the interviews so far for As It Was H has been saying how he feels so free, and that this is the most free and liberated he's felt creating and putting out music.

It's been a main talking point in the script of his interviews, along with him saying this was the most joyous and enjoyable experience he's had making music ever.

This is very similar to what he said for Fine Line. It was also a main talking point for his experience making that album and then promoting it.

So I think op was thinking how much more "free" H can really feel. Especially with Rob Stringer's comment about how "NOW there’s not an element of what we’re doing with Harry that is manufactured". This is RIGHT IN LINE with the script H has been saying in every interview so far. And, particularly in light of this stunt, and how nearly his entire fanbase talks about him not being free on a daily basis. It's so insulting how all these business and PR people say with a straight face that PR isn't real.

Here are some quotes of H talking about it:

SiriusXm Morning MashUp interview:

I feel like it’s the first time that I’m making music and putting music out from a real place of personal freedom.

The process for me has been easily the most joyous of anything I’ve kind of experienced so far while making music

Heart UK interview:

I think I had a lot of time to think about and work out who I was away from music and get a little more comfortable with that and I think that allowed me to make this album from a very liberated place, and feel a lot less pressure on ‘music is the only thing in my life’.

Z100 interview:

“The kind of forced pause that I had kinda gave me some time to think a lot about who I am and who I wanna be away from music. And I feel like going thru that while making an album kinda gave me a chance to really create it from a new place of freedom.

In my opinion, I believe H when he talks about this feeling of freedom about creating music. That's part of his artistic journey and development. It's his own process and pure artistic creative experience. So I think that is what he's referring to when he's talking about this. His own personal journey of discovery, acceptance and growth as a person and artist.

But I also think that this is separate to him being a completely free artist within the industry and his label. His artistic freedom may be large personally, but at the end of the day he still needs to answer to business, image and social constraints that dictate how his artistic freedom is presented. So he may have felt all of that freedom in the process, but in the end there may also have been other factors which aren't so "free" - but that is outside of the freedom he is speaking of. He is talking about a freedom of the soul.

PR, image and marketing are all very much at play. Especially for one of Columbia's and Sony's top artists.

Note: related to this post

#rob stringer #sony #harry's image #harry's image vs reality #hs3 promo #hs3 narrative #he's a true artist #harry's house #harry's house promo #promo is all lies #it's so insulting how all these business and PR people say w a straight face that PR isn't real #apr 3 2022 #apr 2022 #harry april 2022 #as it was promo #harry's marketing #harry's narrative vs reality #this is very much still about business and money #and H has to say whatever they ask of him

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rocorambles · 3 years

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Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life.

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!)

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you.

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction. Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight.

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words.

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear.

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood.

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it?

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room.

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable.

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you.

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of.

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win.

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you.

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together.

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was.

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.

You're desperate.

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left.

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment.

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to afford a decent quality life? So be it.

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind.

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant.

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you.

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place.

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up.

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined.

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job.

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground.

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down.

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm.

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope.

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you.

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?”

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words.

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long.

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you.

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out.

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust.

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size.

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever.

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you.

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess.

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while.

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.”

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets.

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear.

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?”

#haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu yandere #yandere oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu writing #haikyuu x reader #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: noncon #tw: rape #tw: bullying #tw: coercion

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent.

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century.

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.”

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

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lxngbottom · 3 years

Text

Mistakes That Last Forever. | N.L.

in which neville stumbles across... an “old friend”.

warnings: mentions of cheating, angst, pregnancy, slight trauma mentions (lmk if i missed any!)

i got inspired for this by an outsider imagine that i read like a really longgggg time ago... so enjoy this ig (AND YES THERE WILL BE A PART 2 TO THIS)

(PART 2)

—

neville’s whole life had been filled with regrets. they seeped into his skin, torturing his clouded mind on day to day basis. the trauma from the second war had left a mark on him, and even though he was now in the infamous herbology professor at hogwarts, he still didn’t feel as if he was living the life he had always wanted to. he didn’t feel successful, he didn’t feel... good about himself. and the main source of that?

you.

his biggest regret was losing you. hurting you. leaving you in such a needing time.

it had all started after the war. you two had been inseparable since 2nd year, as you were the one who had helped him down from the chandelier when he was tragically hung up by those pesky pixies. and ever since then, he was enamored with you. he was consumed by the mere thought of you. and, your feelings didn’t differ too much.

so, you two became official in your 4th year. you two were each other’s firsts for practically everything that could be a first. and, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. you were so in love with him, it tore you from the inside out.

but unfortunately, the war arrived. and, it took a huge toll on your relationship. it affected each bit of what you guys had built together. after the war had ended, you guys tried so hard to make it work. but, neville... it seemed as if he just... gave up.

you would never forget the day you came home from work to your shared apartment, and heard strange noises coming from your bedroom. you went up, deep down, already knowing what the noises were. and of course, when you opened the door, your worst nightmare had became a reality. and even worse?

you were pregnant.

neville knew this too, but, he felt as if he had spent so long being “stuck” in a relationship with you, he never got the chance to meet new people. and because of that, for the sake of your child, you left. because, he had left you first, and he had done something unforgivable. something that would leave you scarred, and something that would take hold of you for years.

but, now things were different for you. you were more than content with where your life was at right now. you had an amazing job as the journalist for the daily prophet, and you were damn good at it too. it was a collective agreement that you were definitely a step up from rita skeeter.

neville couldn’t disagree more, though. not that he didn’t think you were good at your job, he always thought that you were an amazing writer. but, he had to force himself to cancel his personal subscription to the daily prophet, as the simple mention of your name on the front page, or sometimes, maybe even your picture, broke his heart to see. some from guilt, but mostly, from just missing you.

just five years later, here you were. walking through a muggle hardware store, looking at all of the houseplants that surrounded the small garden.

“mummy, look!”

you whipped your head around, and smiled when you saw your small son, chubby just like neville used to be when he was young. you had always tried to disregard the fact that he looked exactly like his father, but it was difficult to. you loved your son, with everything you had in your body, but, he was a constant reminder of all the pain that had been caused.

“very nice, nev!” you giggled, watching as your son played with a single pink flower bouquet. he grinned at you, and suddenly plucked the fresh flower off of it’s stem. you gasped, and wanted your hand at him, “neville longbottom! we don’t do that! do you want to get in trouble?!”

his face contorted into a guilty one as he made those ridiculously adorable puppy dog eyes at you, “i’m sorry, mum... i-i-i didn’t know. i was trying to pick it for you...”

you couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty as he sadly dropped the broken off flower on the floor, watching as it blew away from the huge fan that hung above the both of you.

“it’s okay, dear. but, try not to pick them from the actual stems, okay? just... look on the floor. you’ll see a bunch of free flowers everywhere.” you teased, sending him a small smile. he looked up at you, and those sad puppy dog eyes quickly sparkled with excitement as he ran away, looking around the garden for those small, long forgotten flowers.

you chuckled quietly to yourself as you watched your son, seeing how his eyes glowed from all of the plants.

yeah. he was definitely neville’s son.

you turned your body back around, attempting to continue your shopping. but, your body then collided with another, causing you to come to a complete halt.

“oh, merlin! i’m so—“ you were just about to spurt out multiple apologies, until, you looked at the figure.

there he was. tall, muscular, and a intent gaze fixated on his face as he stared at you.

“n—neville?”

he was so shocked. he couldn’t even let out a single mutter. you were right there. right in front of him. after not seeing you for so long, but thinking about you always, you were finally right here.

“y/n...” he breathed out finally, trying to not show how incredibly nervous he was.

this was the first time you two had seen each other since the day you packed all of your things, and left him standing alone at the door step that once belonged to the both of you. he could never seem to part with the apartment, the whole environment still leaving trails of you. so, of course, he still resided there during his off times.

“um—wow... shit—i’m sorry. you know... for bumping into you...” he laughed nervously, stepping away from you. you gave him a nervous chuckle as well, trying to hide the redness that was now blending within your skin.

“oh—it’s alright. i should’ve—you know... been watching where i was going...”

neville opened his mouth to respond, as he wanted to ask you so many things. but, he was interrupted by a small child running up to you, tears streaming down his face as he clutched onto your leg.

“mum...” he sniffled out, and you looked down with a concerned look on your face, “t-t-the lady yelled at me...i-i-i accidentally b-broke one of the f-f-flowers...”

neville knew those eyes. he knew that familiar stutter. he knew those tears. it was like practically looking into a mirror.

that was his son.

you looked over at neville nervously, seeing realization flashing in his green orbs. but, you bent down to neville jr, who was an absolute mess. he never took kindly to people getting onto him, especially if they were yelling.

“oh... it’s alright, nev. we have a whole garden at home that we can grow flowers in...” you reassured him, wiping his small tears. he nestled into your touch, “why don’t you go and pick out some seeds? any kind you like... i’ll get them for you.”

there was a shy smile on his face as you said that, and he looked over at the strange man that stood baffled beside you.

“okay...” he sniffled, wiping his nose, “but... who’s that?” he asked, pointing to neville.

you had never told your son about his father, and you had hoped that he never would. but, you knew the day would come. you just didn’t think that day would be today.

“an old friend, darling. now, do as i say and go find some flowers, alright?”

your son nodded, reluctantly leaving you with the tall man that he had no idea the identity of. you stood up fully awkwardly, and looked over at neville who’s face was now angry.

he watched as the boy ran off, “he doesn’t know who i am?” he asked through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowing at you.

you looked back at him, “nev—“

“no... how could you not tell him? that’s my son, y/n. you—you told me you were putting the baby in adoption... how could you lie to me? and him? why would you do that?”

you knew you owed the man an explanation, but all at the same time, he had brought this upon himself. and yeah, maybe it was fucked up that you had lied to him, but, you genuinely did believe at the time you were getting rid of the baby.

“neville... not here. please...”

“no, y/n. you owe me a goddamn explanation. i mean... this is my fucking child we’re talking about. look at him! he looks just like me!”

you looked over at the chubby boy, watching him closely as he skimmed through seeds, staring at the images on the front.

“don’t you think i know that, neville?” you whispered, “listen... we can talk about this. but, not here. and, not while he’s around...”

“no! i want to talk to him! i deserve it—goddamn it, y/n! how could you fucking do this to me?!”

“and how could you cheat on me?! after everything we went through together! you fucking left me in the dust!”

he could see the pain in your eyes. there was obviously still a lot of hurt, so much rage pent up from the whole scenario. of course you had never fully gotten over it. it was still something you thought about on a daily basis, as you had believed at one point that you would be married to neville by now.

“y/n...” neville started, stepping closer to you, “i—i never meant to hurt you...”

you stared into his eyes for a moment, trying to find some sort of other answer other than that stupid apology you had heard so many times before.

“it doesn’t matter, longbottom. i have to go. we can talk about this whole thing another time. goodbye.”

#harry potter #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville longbottom imagines #neville longbottom smut #neville x reader #neville x y/n #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x y/n

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zarathelonewolf · 3 years

Text

OK OK OK IT'S HAPPENINGGGGG

Everybody stAY CALM!

BNHA CHAPTER 326 PREVIEW

Let's preface this by saying that I absolutely didn't expect... like... Stain becoming some sort of therapist, or even ensuing his wake up call like this. But I am very pleased with it.

Now... I don't agree with Stain, at all. His ideology may seem interestingly righteous in the beginning, but the more you dive into it, the more evident it becomes that it holds Heroes to a standard that is excessive... It's not just the fact he's killing people; Uraraka's talk has, by now, cemented a fact that Stain's ideology was ignoring: Heroes are human, and while they may have some flaws, not all of them are the epitome of professionality or prudence, and I do agree some of them see their work as too much of a competition... they still do their best on a daily basis to save people. Stain's ideology also doesn't see Heroes as capable of changing modus operandi when faced with the fact that their methods may not be the best; he doesn't give them the chance to overcome their flaws, because he considers their flaws the end of the line.

I did like that Stain helped All Might in this case. Really liked it. I was waiting for an interaction between the two of them foreverrrr.

And now, I can finally see it unfold.

From what I understand from the spoilers,it kind of went like this...

All Might was approaching his statue, which still held the sign "I am not here" around its neck, and reminds himself of what he talked about with Aizawa before the war. Aizawa clearly explained that, while Toshinori couldn't be an active Hero anymore, he was already helping people by being alive and well.

All Might, now, thinks that he's being just a liability... He probably feels like the worse mentor, because he wasn't able to help his hurting disciple.

But, Stain doesn't agree, because he appears and tells him that those words and thought are insulting to the memory of All Might.

Their interaction starts with All Might informing Stain of his failed projects to talk to him before the war, in Tartarus, and shows Stain that his thin form is, in fact, all that is left of All Might and belongs to the same person.

Stain... doesn't like this, either, and thinks Toshinori in his thin form is an impostor.

All Might keeps reasoning that maybe he had always been lying, so that he could create an image to use in order to bring peace in a dark age,for he couldn't stand the injustices around him. Staring at the desolate, destroyed state of things in the war's aftermath, he says that the destruction is all that came out from his efforts.

He says that he put his life on the line, but that he still couldn't adequately support Midoriya nor talk to him at UA.

Stain jumps ahead, in All Might's direction... but doesn't strike him. He pulls him away from the front of the statue, and they both hide as a woman approaches the statue and Stain invites All Might to watch.

This... is one of my favorite moments. Really, it is.

The woman starts cleaning the statue, after taking the sign off of its neck...the same civilian All Might had saved during his last clash with AFO.

Stain then becomes, even if just for a moment, All Might's therapist/motivator: he reasons that the destruction isn't the end at all, that things can change. He also says that the only version of All Might he can accept, the true All Might, was defined by his smile and courage, and that not even the strongest winds have blown away the embers he left, because a group of people was still cultivating them and keeping them ablaze.

As All Might cries, Stain tells him that he really doesn't recognize All Might in who he sees now, but if he still is the admirable hero, than he should end Stain and use the information he had gathered from Tartarus. So he throws the former Symbol of Peace a knife with the info, and tells him that all of this is for the sake of a better society.

All Might cries... and the lady, while watching the sky, concludes that the rain has finally stopped.

...

This chapter... I already love it, just from the spoilers. I like how the characters approached each other, the dialogue, the scene with the girl... Stunning, really.

The title seems to be a question: who are you?

Who do you guys think is the receiving end of this question?

I think it's All Might... It's definitely Toshinori.

He's being asked this by Stain, and by his subconscious too.

And while his subconscious keeps torturing itself with thoughts of not being enough, his efforts going to waste, his achievements and the symbol he poses being all a lie, destruction being all that's left... Stain, and another part of his mind tell him that despite everything, his efforts are still there: he's clearly still a hero to the people, like the woman's behavior is showing; there are still people willing to uphold is values and that see him as an inspiration. The destruction WILL end, somehow, because the people are working for peace to finally prevail.

The rain has finally stopped: this phrase is super important. It doesn't really make the situation less dangerous, because who knows what AFO is planning or how the final showdown may go. It does, however, mean that the mood, the resolve of the Heroes, is changing. It's getting better. They're finally seeing the sun. This means that there is finally hope. These last chapters where all building up to this: the end of the rain, of the despair...

After a hurricane comes a rainbow... but for now we have the end of the rain and the reappearance of the sun.

The real hurricane will come with the final battle... After which, a new society could emerge. A new, better society. Like Stain wanted, as misguided as he may have been. Like All Might has always wanted, as disillusioned as he has been as of late.

So, let's look forward to the end. The final battle, we all feel it, is every day nearer... But this time, the sun is on our side.

A stronger, renewed resolve and hope, are on our side.

We'll be taking it all back, people!

Like Midoriya said... We'll take it all back,and AFO will be defeated.

EDIT: Thank you for all the likes and the reblogs, guys! I really hope I can bring other interesting reviews and opinions to the fandom, though as always you are free to disagree with them. See ya in the next BNHA manga chapter!

#bnha #bnha 326 #toshinori yagi #stain #akaguro chizome #all might #spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #bnha manga

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rebel666 · 4 years

Text

Confessions of a Joann Employee

UPDATE: If you want to send more confessions and/or report what’s happening at your Joann anonymously, there’s EmployeeJoann on Twitter that is responding to messages. They are constantly sharing and updating more as it becomes available to them!

A confession from a Joann employee that is in one of the Covid-19 effected areas and has so much to say about it:

-We are staying open until told by the state otherwise. Even though they declared a State of Emergency and all non-essential businesses must be shut down by 5pm on Saturday 3/21, our company is refusing to. Because Joann themselves is trying to deem Joann as an "essential" store. They even put it all over their website that we are here for the people making masks and small businesses who need fabric to continue. They quote that we are here for the customers and that we as United States Americans have a responsibility to fill this need. They aren’t looking at curbside only as an option, they aren’t looking at offering more benefits for shopping online, they want us open and people in stores. They are sending us emails with pieces of paper (unofficial, not state made) to print out and put in our cars to say we are on the way to work at an "essential retailer." Anything to make it so we can remain open.

-This sucks for employees and here’s why: The way Joann is set up is if we get sick, if we have to leave to take care of someone who is sick, if we want to self-quarantine (because of our health or the health of our loved ones), we either quit or ask to be put on Leave of Absence and cannot return without medical clearance. If we come into contact with someone who has Covid-19 (even if they came into the store), they request we stay home while the rest of us have to work even if we were standing right next to them. As long as we don’t display symptoms, we are expected to show up or we can request LoA. LoA does not pay us. The only way we as employees will be taken care of is if the store closes AND if we have two weeks of schedules set up. I was hoping the company was on the path to this when they had us cancel all the classes until May and then limited hours but all that went out the window today. Right now Joann is doing everything to prevent us from closing and in turn take care of their employees. Every single time I bring up our well-being, I get reminded that we need to think about the customer first.

-Our store is step up to have daily conference calls to talk about the current status and to express any concerns we have. I brought up the status about my county (our major has declared everyone be shut down as of 5pm tomorrow or the police will be involved) and that I am deeply concerned for us and they told me that we have a responsibility as a leader to keep everyone calm and to keep working through this. ***When I asked what if everyone in my store requests a Leave of Absence because we are all very much concerned about our health, they said, "We will replace you with team members from other stores. There are service industry people and travel workers looking for jobs and we will fill your positions with people who will work it."*** They straight up told me that we are replaceable/expendable because they value their "customers/money." It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been with the company. It all means nothing to them.

-They are sending out emails about what Joann is doing as a whole for Covid-19. Saying we are cleaning every hour and whatnot. What they fail to mention is we are a fabric store with no means of washing fabric. I see people on a daily basis cough into, wipe their snot on, kids place in their mouth, and all sorts of other nasty things into these bolts of fabric (seriously, wash the fabric you buy from Joann before doing anything). We have the basic cleaning supplies to wash floors and wipe counters with but that’s pretty much it. They are telling us as employees to bring in our own supplies if we can. An employee brought in gloves long ago just so we can use them to clean the bathrooms. Today I provided face masks for my fellow coworkers. Our store may look clean but we know its dirty little secrets.

-We are supposed to follow the whole 10 people rule but they do nothing to stop or limit people at the door and won’t do anything to enforce it. All while wanting us to cut hours to which is barely 2 people running the whole store for smaller Joann locations. It’s not safe for us to be on a bare-bones crew especially if they want us to remain an essential store.

-Joann before this was a great place to work. At least for my store. I love my store, I love the people I work with. Other stores I have heard horror stories from but mine was one of the good ones. I see them being bombarded on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram to close. Not just by employees and families of employees but by concerned customers. And this pleases me because they need to take this seriously. What they do in the next 3 days will speak volumes on how much they listen to and care about us. This is a serious issue and we as employees are suffering.

As they report more, I will continue to add to this.

UPDATE 3/21: They emailed and made copies of this for employees to carry with them in their cars:

Now the CEO of Joann is also a piece of work. All you have to do is google his name and you’ll see the Walgreen’s lawsuit, his DUIs (yes, plural), and his impact on Joann since joining - which includes increasing prices because of the tariffs. One employee confirms that when tariff thing went into effect, the entire store was repriced. Some markups were a few cents but some were a few dollars. Since then the prices continue to fluctuate.

There is also a petition going on Change.org asking for Joann to Close Their Stores And Pay Employees

If you get a chance, read some of the comments people are putting in support of this:

I no longer feel safe in my workplace. The greed is sickening.

My employees deserve to be treated like people and make a livable wage and have benefits! Our health over their profit!

Staff at my local store have been asked to bring in their own gloves for cleaning. Hand sanitizer expired in 2012. Employees are reporting little to know cleaning supplies in a store that targets the elderly as a primary demographic. The material used in the masks is not medical grade. This company is shamelessly profiteering from the pandemic.

As a former employee and manager I know the company does not follow any real cleaning guidelines. They understaff their stores, overwork their employees and frown upon time off. Fabrics and crafts are not essential items at this time and since the majority of the clientele there are elderly i think they are creating more risk. Finally do something good for your employees and send gem home with pay

As a previous manager, I'm sad to say that this company does not value its workers. To see that they are putting their workers, and others who visit, at a continued risk is unbelievable and is extremely selfish. Now is the time to act and stop the spread of COVID-19 and to keep Joann's open does not help stop the spread in anyway shape or form.

Over the last two days, my local store decided to carry on with inventory. They brought in an inventory team from the area of our state with the vast majority of cases. It's one thing to not close and continue to expose the public to the risk, but decisions like these show that Jo-Anns has a blatant disregard for the wellbeing of its employees and customers. Even more telling is the fact that we know that you are seeing our pleas to do the right thing, but continue to ignore us on social media. There is only one reason that you are pushing to categorize Jo-Anns as an essential business, and that is greed. In fact, I had to spend my own money on gas to drive all over the city looking for more cleaning supplies after my manager ordered me to. Your employees do so much for you, and we are compensated very little. I have been at Jo-Anns long enough to know that you would never compensate us for our time off, but at least join the other non-essential business and shut down for the time being.

joann’s customer base is primarily elderly or otherwise at risk people, and many employees are also older or immunocompromised. employees are overwhelmed as we can’t keep up with the cleaning guidelines while also taking care of customers, not to mention we’re severely lacking in cleaning supplies in the first place. joann is encouraging people to come in for supplies to make face masks, yet these masks aren’t sterile since people touch and breathe on the fabric all day, and it’s then laid on the counter to be measured and cut. employees themselves aren’t even allowed to wear masks or gloves. joann cares more about profit than the safety of both their team members and customers.

There are so many comments I want to share. These are just a few. This is Joann. They care more about their image and their financial gains than the backbone of their stores. The people who put up with their ridiculous requests day in and day out are now at risk and putting others at risk. Places like Hot Topic closed down and took care of their employees, places like Joanns should too!

But also lets not forget, Hobby Lobby is also not taking Covid-19 seriously.

UPDATE 3/22: “We have signs saying we're cleaning more but found out Friday that we're out of supplies in the distribution center. They claim they will send them out once they receive any but I found out today from a truck driver the company that supplies everything for Joann (from inventory to store use items) is closed for 2 weeks... because of this they're telling us to use the bathroom cleaner as a substitute.”

From Joann Employee Confessions on Twitter:

Confession 17 - Our Joann was closed! We received a C&D from the Chief of Police! We were so ecstatic as employees when they came in and told us to cease all business operations! Not even curbside! BUT then we had to tell our District Manager... and everything changed.

Our DM told us to come back to work tomorrow because he was going to have Joann's lawyers work on it. My heart sank. Them being open was more important. So I went into work and it was so nice not being open to the public. We finally caught up on recovery and cleaning! All things we have neglected the past week because it's been too busy for us to keep up! All of us were in great spirits and it was the best day ever. Until our DM called... and he told us to section off all the "non-essential" parts of the store.

Fabric and sewing notions were deemed essential and we would be open to the public the next day. No curbside only. Nope. People were to come right back in and nothing about limitations. Nothing about cleaning our disgusting fabric. Just to section off half the store so the public could come in and buy all the fabric and sewing supplies they could want. And to add to that... they are doing a remnant promotion where all the spare pieces are free to the customer now! Another thing for our already spare crew to do when we don't have time!

I am honestly so shattered over how the Chief of Police who seemed so interested in our well-being backed out of this. We are exposed once again. 3 of us tonight took Leave of Absence papers tonight because we don't feel safe. This was the final nail in the coffin.

UPDATE - My coworker messaged me, “Got up at 10:00 to get ready for work. A text came in saying the store is closed and I don't have to come to work. Seems there was a conference call. It appears the state is involved and overrode the mayor!” But Joann is still fighting it. This is a day by day thing. They are telling us if we want hours we have to go to another store. If not, we have to put in our leave of absence.

More articles coming through right now:

These Retailers Refused To Close During The Pandemic, So An Illinois City Shut Them Down

Joann Fabrics' mask-making promotion raises questions

Gregory said the masks were being donated to Rush Oak Park Hospital in Oak Park and to Northwestern Medicine Delnor Hospital in Geneva – but spokespeople for both those hospitals said it was not true.“Due to infection control measures, Northwestern Medicine cannot accept donations of handmade masks, gowns and other medical supplies,” according to an email from Kimberly Waterman, spokeswoman for Northwestern Medicine Delnor. “Only factory-made, hospital-quality supplies, including N95 masks, face shields, gloves, gowns, sanitizers and swabs can be donated.”

“There is no barrier,” White said. “Once [handmade cloth masks] get wet, I don’t think they’re that effective.” (I can confirm. A RN confirmed with me that cloth masks collect moisture which acts as a magnet for infections.)

#covid2019 #covidー19 #covid19 #joann #joannfabrics #employeescomefirst #confessions #confessionsofanemployee #capitalism should die #what is wrong with America #fabric store problems #burn down the corporations #rise up for what you believe in #stand strong #i will not shut up #hobbylobby #make the change #whistleblower

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pink-flame · 3 years

Note

14 and 69 for Juke 😊

So I’m pretty sure I was only supposed to describe how I would write these combinations but where’s the fun in that? So I just went ahead and wrote it. Also someone else requested one that includes the bodyguard prompt so there will be a part 2 soonish. Enjoy! 💜

Bodyguard AU + Flirting under fire

Julie sighed for the third time in the last two minutes.

“Can you stop that?”

The exasperated voice expressing annoyance with her impatience was her best friend/assistant Alex. They’d been best friends since middle school and when Julie’s music career started to take off everyone had tried to convince them that working together was a disaster waiting to happen. She had worked herself up over how her being his boss would ruin everything until she finally told him how worried she was.

“Won’t you feel, I don’t know demeaned, being my assistant?”

“Jules, I’ll be assisting you to survive which you’ll never do without me. Stop overthinking.”

And five years later she was a lot better at that. She was a 22 year old successful musician, her second album and first national tour right around the corner. Unlike when they were 17 she had learned her best results always came when she was able to listen to her instincts and go with the flow.

Unless she was waiting in the lobby of her label waiting for her new bodyguard to show up. A bodyguard who was officially late, a fact that she didn’t hesitate to inform Alex of.

“By like 2 minutes, chill,” He insisted, tapping away on his phone probably arranging the rest of her day as his thumbs flew over the screen.

“Alex, if my bodyguard is late I could end up dead,” She reminded him.

“Someone’s feeling dramatic today,” Alex looked up and nodded toward the other side of the lobby. “Maybe that’s him.”

Julie turned to look and instantly shook her head.

“No way. There’s no such thing as a cute bodyguard.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at her confident statement.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a harmful bodyguard stereotype.”

Julie wasn’t so sure. In her experience bodyguards tended to be stoic, middle aged men built like linebackers. This guy on the other hand was young, probably within a year or two of her, with shaggy hair and a bouncy energy visible even from across the room. It was true that even through his vintage band tee she could see that he was kind of ridiculously muscular but so was her personal trainer and she wouldn’t want Dante standing between her and a crazed stalker.

She stood by her first assessment though. He was definitely cute.

He was also looking around the room, his eyes landing on her and a perfect smile stretching across his face.

“You’re uh, not bodyguard is heading this way,” Alex observed.

Julie could see that.

“Are you Julie Molina?” He asked as he came to a stop directly in front of her. “I’m Luke, your new bodyguard. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re my new bodyguard?” She repeated incredulously. “And you’re not sure who I am?”

Luke shrugged, his smile seemingly unaffected by her borderline rude response.

“I was pretty sure. And your label wanted to hire someone who could blend in more easily, offer you some protection without ruining your image as approachable.”

“Oh,” Julie turned to Alex who was watching the exchange with interest. “Did you know about this?”

Her best friend smirked.

“They may have mentioned something.”

Julie was starting to feel as though she had been set up. She turned back to Luke who was still rocking slightly on his heels, standing still not seeming to be his thing. He really did not seem like the type who could intimidate an attacker but he did seem like the type who would be really distracting to have standing around if he was going to keep smiling at her like that.

So she was in trouble in multiple ways.

She did her best to keep her face neutral when she spoke again.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Luke. Everyone on my team is hired on a trial basis, so we’ll see how it goes ok?”

Luke reached up to salute.

“Ok, boss. Where we headed?”

Julie definitely did not find his insistence on being casual paired with that hard to place accent attractive. Definitely not.

Lucky for her, his attractiveness was soon offset by his ability to drive her absolutely crazy. Other than Alex he was by her side more than anyone over the next few months. He followed her to recording sessions, he followed her to music video shoots, and he followed her to fan meet and greets. But he was expected to follow her on personal excursions too and he seemed incapable of doing so silently. He made running commentary on the groceries she bought (always late at night to lower the chances of being recognized). He gave her unsolicited tips on what weights she should be lifting while she worked out. And worst of all was his insistence on giving her unasked for feedback on her music.

He wasn’t familiar with her work at all, or at least he never showed a hint of recognition when she brought up her previous songs or album. But he had a lot of opinions on what she was working on now.

“You know if you added some echoes in the chorus that song could be sick,” He remarked one day as he escorted her home after a long studio session.

Julie groaned and let her head flop back on the seat of the car they were currently being driven in.

“And you know your job is to keep me alive, not actually to critique my musical choices, right?”

He shrugged.

“I’m a good multitasker.”

And the most annoying part was he was always right. At least about the music. He seemed to always sense when she was stuck and somehow pipe up with the exact thing she needed to hear to get the music flowing again. Suggesting a tweak to a lyric or humming a guitar riff he thought she should try. It got to the point where she sometimes sought out his opinion before he could offer it on his own. He was clearly a musician as well as the world’s most unorthodox bodyguard.

He made her a better writer and if the way he grinned when he particularly liked one of her ideas was any indication, she thought she might make him better too.

She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying that out loud though.

So they went on like that for a few more months. Julie never brought up his trial period again and he continued to both annoy and intrigue her daily. So far he hadn’t actually had to do much protecting though. He had helped her escape a few overly excited twelve year olds once but that was about it.

Until it wasn’t.

Julie had heard plenty of stories about celebrities whose over enthusiastic fans had crossed the line to full on stalking. She just never thought it would happen to her. She always felt so close to her fans, so connected by the music she made for them. But when she came home one day and found the door to her condo ajar she realized she may have been a little naive.

She knew she should wait for Luke, he had been held up in the lobby checking in with the building security but he should be right behind her. He always did a sweep before leaving her for the evening. But it wouldn’t be the first time she had neglected to lock her own door when she left. She had so much on her mind right now. Maybe...maybe she had left it open?

She had the whole top floor of the building to herself, you needed a special key to even get up here in the elevator. It was hard to believe someone else had managed that.

Julie eased through the slightly open door and hesitated a few steps inside. Everything seemed normal maybe…

Then she heard it. Someone was in her bedroom and it sounded like they were going through her drawers. Her stomach sank. Should she run for the door? Or would that alert whoever was in there and send them after her?

Suddenly there was a presence behind her and Julie was just on the brink of letting out an involuntary yell when a familiar hand came down to grip her shoulder.

“Shhh,” Luke whispered directly into her ear. “Come on.”

He guided her backwards to one of her closets and pulled them inside quickly, somehow managing to pull the door closed behind them soundlessly. Julie’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing silent. Luke positioned himself between her and the closet door, keeping one hand on her shoulder and the other resting over his belt.

Did he have a knife hidden under that band tee? A gun? Why had she never asked any questions about how exactly he was prepared to protect her before?

Still. She had to admit she felt as safe with him as she would with anyone. All of the characteristic movement she associated with Luke had drained out of him, leaving him incredibly still but still thrumming with focused energy. He was listening at the door and she could see his brain cycling through calculations of what he would do next. She had a sudden fear of him leaving her, even if it was in an attempt to defend her.

She reached out without thinking and grabbed for his hand that had been resting on her shoulder and wrapped it in hers, holding on for dear life.

He glanced back at their linked hands and then up to her face offering her a soft smile that felt more like the Luke she knew. Somehow just that was enough to let her breaths come a little easier.

“You’re ok,” He whispered.

She nodded but didn’t drop his hand.

“Did you see them? Are they armed?”

He nodded once and Julie swallowed hard.

“Just stay put for a second,” Luke whispered again. “Backup is on the way and I’ve got you.”

Julie nodded. She believed him.

She focused on keeping her breathing steady and quiet. Soon she had calmed down enough to realize just how close they were to each other. It was a small closet just meant to toss a coat or two into when you walked in the door. Julie considered herself lucky that she hadn’t gotten around to putting anything in this particular closet or she would have been smothered by fabric right now. As it stood she was seated on the ground pressed directly up against Luke where he crouched against the door, their bodies touching in just about every way they could be.

This was not the time to be thinking about how big his eyes looked from this close or how those little bits of his hair that flipped up were tickling her cheek or how he smelled really, really good.

It wasn’t the time but that didn’t stop her from thinking about all of it.

Fear did strange things to people, ok?

Only it wasn’t just the fear because she had definitely noticed all of those things before. They just hadn’t been quite so in her face. Literally.

“Thanks,” He whispered, amusement clear in his hushed tone.

Julie snapped back to reality.

“For what?” She whispered back.

“You said I smell good. Really, really good,” He replied leaning in even closer so he could say it directly into her ear.

Julie froze in mortification.

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“No, that didn’t happen.”

He leaned back as far as he could go which wasn’t far and smiled before reaching up with his free hand to push a curl away from her face.

“Whatever you say, boss,” He said with his most annoying smirk.

Only she wasn’t annoyed. At all.

Trouble.

She had known he would be trouble.

Suddenly a floorboard creaked directly in front of the closet and Julie dropped his hand so she could slap her own over her mouth and muffle the whimper that tried to escape.

Luke was suddenly all business again, raising his finger to shush her before reaching for the door handle. Before she could react he had yanked the door open and was leaping out.

Julie thought she might have screamed but she wasn’t sure. She heard a scuffle but kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid to open them and see Luke hurt and her stalker coming straight for her.

A few long seconds later she heard the sound of the police arriving at the same time that a hand landed softly on her arm. She flinched slightly and opened her eyes to see Luke staring down at her, thoroughly out of breath but seemingly unscathed.

“You ok?” He asked.

She nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her out of the closet. Thankfully the police had already hauled away whoever had been in her apartment but there were a couple of officers taking notes and speaking into their radios.

One approached them where Luke was keeping her upright with an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re a very lucky lady, Miss Molina. He was unarmed and your boyfriend had him in a heck of a headlock when we got here.”

Julie blushed.

“He’s not my...wait. The guy was unarmed?”

She looked up at Luke with a look that clearly demanded answers.

“He had a pen,” He shrugged as though the significance should have been obvious.

It was not.

“A pen?” She repeated. “You made me think he had a gun!”

“Hey, do you know how many ways someone can kill you with a pen?” Luke insisted. “Spoiler alert, it’s a lot.”

The cop looked back and forth between them with confused amusement.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it. We’ll check in with your building security and try to figure out how he got in. In the meantime you might want to look into hiring some protection.”

Julie felt Luke bristle next to her and couldn’t help but smile smugly.

“You’re right, I might.”

Then they were alone and Luke was moving through each room, checking for himself to see that everything was as it should be.

Eventually on his third check, Julie grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

“Thank you, Luke. For everything. As much as it pains me to say it...you were amazing today.”

He grinned, and suddenly he was the Luke who followed her around and annoyed her with how right he was about everything again.

“Yeah, well, you’re amazing everyday, Boss. So I guess we’re even.”

Julie could feel herself blushing again.

Trouble.

She was in so much trouble.

#trope prompt game #fanfiction #juke #jatp #my fics

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baubaes · 3 years

Note

hi! is there a chance for Jemily with no22? some angst maybe? cheers🤗

Well hello to you to! And of course there is!

@thatonecurlygirl prompt list 22

“I can’t give you what you want.”

Ship: Emily Prentiss x Jennifer Jareau

Word count: 5,4k

Genre: angst/hurt/fluff/very very light nsfw? i have no clue how to label this

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, injuries, classic criminal minds vibes :^)))

Summary: "Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead. She, however, was on a plane to Paris." aka JJ taking care of staked Emily, the blackbird flashback and events around it.

A/N: i thought of way too many scenarios when even though Emily and JJ are literally in love, it could never work out. here's one of them :^) i hope you'll enjoy it!! xx ana apparently i just can't imagine a scenario in which these characters could have a peaceful, quiet and happy life, im so sorry

Emily felt drained.

She was all hurting, really bad, her head was killing her, not only from the beating she received those several days ago, but also the mere stress of all this.

It was pretty baffling for her to realize that she survived this whole ordeal.

She couldn’t say for how long she was out; it felt both like a blink of an eye and an eternity.

And she really thought that she died, when she eventually lost consciousness in Morgan’s arms. That still felt like ages ago.

It was all really confusing, but then again, she couldn’t spare too much of her strength to dwell on what actually happened. Emily just felt too weak to try to keep her eyes open for too long and that resulted in her reality being pretty much scattered.

When she woke up in a hospital room, she was dazed and overwhelmed. They’ve put her on some strong painkillers after the surgery and most of the time right then felt like a blur. She thought she heard some voices in her dream, maybe doctors, maybe… Was it JJ?

She heard bits and pieces of conversations, somebody commenting on her condition in a low voice, nervous footsteps circling around the room, the dimmed rhythmical sounds of all the equipment she was hooked to, some sort of buzzing and a one sided conversation that had to be a phone call.

Was it just some bizarre dream?

A way for her subconscious mind to cope with the anxiety surrounding the recent events?

Whether it was real or not, it let her stay in this state of slumber brought to her through an IV drip.

Despite all that, she felt really grateful. She wasn’t sure where to channel this gratitude though;

Her team for backing her up?

The doctors for patching her up in the OR?

God, for allowing her to continue her existence?

Then again, she wasn’t sure if the last one existed, nor that the almighty entity would waste its time on making sure little old her survives.

It was comforting though, that her last moments on this Earth managed not to be spent with Doyle, even if that was against her will, so in theory, she didn’t have much of control over this.

Memories of him were a combination of ones that she’s made as Emily Prentiss and ones that she’s made as Lauren Reynolds. As Emily, it consisted of all those moments when he threatened her and her team, he kidnapped her, tortured her, nearly killed her…

As Lauren she was able to saw his more… Humane side.

Lauren was his girlfriend. Lauren lived with him,

Lauren shared her joys and fears with him. Lauren loved him.

But that was Lauren.

She wasn’t real. An identity, that’s all that she was.

And even though Emily tried to convince herself that Lauren’s feelings were perfectly compartmentalized away from her own, deep down she knew she was lying to herself.

Was Doyle ever somebody she actually loved?

She definitely despised him, but it felt like now she was obligated to despise even her own self for ever having feelings for this monster. Positive ones anyway.

Right now, Emily Prentiss was dead.

She, however, was on a plane to Paris.

It was all coordinated by Hotchner and JJ.

Nobody else knew.

Her team, her friends, her loved ones were about to attend her funeral in a few days.

She imagined confused look on Spencer’s face, Garcia’s eyes filled with tears, Morgan frowning and looking away. Would Rossi be sad, or would he finally feel relieved to be ridded of her impulsiveness and comments on literally everything?

She imagined her mother, who obviously was not on it, throwing a pile of soil on the coffin. That would not hold her body inside. Would she cry? Would she stay composed even at a funeral of her only child? Well, again, it wasn’t real real, but she wouldn’t be able to realize that.

For some reason, she figured JJ would’ve taken it upon herself to feel guilty, despite knowing what was going on.

They both knew it was the only way to make it all work.

Emily worried about everyone, but there were two people she worried about the most. Spencer and Penelope.

They both were incredibly strong, but she couldn’t be sure how would they deal with this.

She worried, since Reid did not cope well with losing authorities. And even if he would never admit it to her face, she knew that he looked up to her.

The thought of that made her feel the bile appear on the back of her throat.

That kid has lost so many people already… And he internalized all that, it had to be weighing on him every single day. It felt cruel to add another person to that list.

She had to keep thinking about the bigger picture to even remotely be able to deal with all that.

Now Garcia was somebody that Emily truly loved.

It was hard to imagine her being sad over her „death”.

Not because of the probability of the blonde being sad,

rather the severity of her grieving, Emily would imagine.

Penelope was one of those people who were able to feel so much, maybe even too much sometimes.

And on a daily basis it was wonderful. That’s what’s made her such an incredible, empathetic human being, who, despite their job, was still able to not only - be cheerful, but to cheer others up as well.

When she thought of that, it felt as if her heart could break to million pieces.

It was strange, how in that moment she should still feel the pain;

They’ve stabilized her after the surgery, but there were still bruises on her face, stitches across her abdomen, burnt skin on her chest. And she did feel it, but it was blurred, far away.

The feeling that made her grasp reality to the point of hyperawareness was the emotional pain.

Somehow she was able to compare it to the pain of being staked.

She still wasn’t sure what was a proper emotional response in that situation.

It wasn’t in the manual, or in training, despite people having to go… Well, faking your own death was like going undercover, in a way.

Both at the Interpol and the FBI, nobody taught her how to feel, while pretending to be dead.

She knew how to make it happen technically, more or less. After all, Lauren had already died. Her old team, JTF-12, was able to pull that off those several years ago. Including her of course.

But that was Lauren. An identity, which, sure, she’s been tied to for quite some time, living as her, acting like her, becoming her in a way.

Still, just an identity.

Right now, there wasn’t a disguise, an identity to toss away, allowing her to come back to her regular life.

Right now her regular life was supposed to cease to exist.

Before, she thought about her goal and the fact, that she survived. She was grateful, in some way she felt obligated to take care of Declan and she wouldn't be able to do that, if she was actually dead, right?

Even though she knew that she had no right to feel attached to the boy as much as she did, she just couldn’t help it. The image of him as a toddler, walking around the room in Doyle’s house stuck in her head. She couldn’t shake it off. And even before Doyle found her, that image caused her to have problems with falling asleep from time to time.

Emily never seriously thought of herself becoming a mother, for that role to be the main purpose of her life. She was afraid of screwing her potential children up, because she knew that even if she meant well, it wouldn’t guarantee them turning out okay. And her line of work made it impossible to both realistically approach the idea of maternity - she didn’t have a partner and if she were to be a single mother - it would be impossible to keep up with the BAU - that job was just too demanding; but also she saw so many downright evil, just unimaginable things that people were capable of doing to one another. How could she ever be able to shield a child from that?

Suddenly, all these ridiculous, small things that she wouldn’t think twice about made her feel as if each and every part of her life was just slipping through her fingers, right there, right then.

That one window in her apartment, the one with the wide windowsill, she loved to sit on it and watch the sky. Sergio would curl up in her lap or right next to her, on the windowsill, quietly purring, when she would pet his black fur. It didn’t happen often, because most nights she'd come home so exhausted, all she could basically do was just pass out on her bed. And Sergio would sleep on a pillow right next to her, despite Emily's promises to herself that she will teach him to stop, because she'd wake up covered in his fur with a runny nose.

But when she had a chance to do that, it made her mind stop racing, at least for a few minutes. That barely ever happened anywhere else.

Now she realized that Sergio was alone in her apartment and she panicked. But just for a second, because then she remembered JJ in the hospital, telling her that Penelope took him in. Of course she did. He'd definitely be surrounded with love. She wished she could've just taken him with her though, since she's already been missing him. Silly little fur ball, making her fall in love with him gradually. Penelope wouldn't be able to resist his charm for sure, she thought to herself, smiling. Still, she felt really sad.

Emily realized that she’s left so many things behind.

She didn’t think of herself as someone intensively attached to material possessions, but all these had a sentimental value for her and that was the only thing that mattered.

The thoughts invading her head were random, coming to her without any particular sense or order, falling on her mind like an avalanche.

And she thought about that crumpled up picture, capturing her with her friends when she was a teenager, back in Rome.

A cross, that her mother gave her on her first communion. She wasn’t ever really wearing it, but she liked knowing that it was safely tucked away in one of the drawers in her closet. It brought her some strange kind of comfort.

A box with letters she’d exchange with her father when she was a kid, because even though they moved around together as a family, he still would have assignments all around the world. So he would leave for a single weekend, or for several months at a time. No matter how long or short was he leaving for, he’d always try and send her a postcard, hence the collection of them, both from huge cities in Europe and Asia and tiny places she’s never even heard of before in America or Australia.

Maybe she wasn’t going through this box ritually on some settled schedule, but every once in a while she would look at those tacky pictures of touristy little towns, as well as simple, beautiful pictures of great historical monuments or watercolored landscapes of picturesque countrysides. And they'd make the corners of her lips rise up just a tiny bit.

All that with a couple words reading simple greetings, scribbled in a hurry, in her dad’s small, not exactly neat handwriting, on the back of each and every one of them.

„Love you, Dad” summed up every single message.

And looking at those words made her feel warmth, both now and when she was a little girl. Her father wasn’t very talkative and he rarely told her he loved her unprompted. So she got used to reading these words, instead of hearing them from him.

She cherished these postcards and anytime she’d go through them, she noticed some kind of feeling spread throughout her body, that felt like pure joy, but also love and safety.

Kurt Vonnegut’s "Sirens of Titan".

Morgan lent it to her a few months ago.

The book was by her bed, bookmarked with some crumpled receipt for groceries she’d found at the bottom of her purse, when she'd had to suddenly break away from Rumfoord and Kazak on the jet.

She’s read it before, truth be told, (in Italian and back in the ’80s), but Morgan insisted that she just had to read the original version. And even though there was a stack of books she wanted to read going back at least two years sitting on her bedroom floor, dangerously leaning against the radiator, the day she brought it home, she placed the Sirens on the very top of her bedside table, instead of the stack.

She’d imagine Morgan would appreciate that gesture.

Morgan, her partner.

Morgan, who held her before she passed out.

Morgan, who always had her back.

And she tried to do the same for him in the field.

He’s saved her ass countless times.

Emily wished she could have had his back right now.

She realized with a paralyzing fear that it could last forever.

Doyle could lay low, undetected for years.

Would it keep Morgan up at night?

Would he blame himself, wondering?

If he'd gotten to her seconds earlier, if he had only ran faster, if he’d found her sooner, would it change anything?

Thinking about that made her fists clench suddenly.

If she had any fingernails left, they would surely dig into the skin of her palms very painfully right now.

Emily felt this overwhelming guilt filling her chest, making her throat feel as if it was closing, her teeth grit.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, as if the jet’s cabin had become decompressed and she couldn't reach the oxygen mask.

"You’re doing okay?"

She heard the soft and calming voice of her only companion on this flight, naturally besides the pilot.

JJ was looking at her with those big, worried, blue eyes and even though Emily’s first instinct was to nod, as she did just that, she felt her eyes watering.

"I can't stand the thought of all of them grieving over a lie."

She mumbled out.

"Emily, you know that this is the only way. We’d never make them go through this, if there were any other options. They will understand."

JJ’s voice became more firm with the last sentence, she was obviously in a mind space reserved for dealing with crisis.

"I really thought that was it, you know?"

Emily asked, a little startled at the sound of her own voice.

She couldn’t recall the last time she’s held an actual conversation with another person, one that wouldn’t consist of barely understandable mumbling as a form of communication on her end.

"There came that point, where the pain went away, I guess I went into shock. I heard Morgan’s voice and I wanted to keep my eyes open like he told me to so bad, but I just couldn’t. I felt like I was slipping away and it felt so… Easy. I wasn’t scared at all. I… I knew you guys would take care of Declan, if I wasn’t around. And that all of you would be okay."

She said, trying to piece together everything that happened.

"And apparently I've coded in the ambulance? I had no idea, but some glimpses are coming back to me, slowly. But it was like I’d fallen asleep."

She added, her face reflecting her mind in a state of deep contemplation.

Her thoughts were interrupted by JJ’s voice.

"Thank God, you didn’t…"

Emily only now noticed that with every word that she spoke, JJ’s eyes became more and more glossy. She frowned.

"Hey, I’m here."

She leaned in and smiled faintly.

"Its gonna take way more than some branding and a little stake for you to get rid of me."

JJ laughed, wiping the tears away, before they had a chance to flow down her cheeks.

"Why would I ever want to get rid of you?"

Blonde asked, her voice now soft, her expression puzzled.

Emily felt something strange in her chest.

At first her brain assumed it had to be her burnt skin and damaged nerve endings, but no.

It felt nice, it wasn’t painful.

That warmth, spilling around her insides.

She didn’t have a witty comeback to her question. She wanted to think it was because of the meds making her hazy, but she wasn’t sure anymore. She just looked down at her chest and frowned again.

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

"The first thing I’m doing, when we get to Paris is having this removed."

She heard her own voice.

"How could a brand hurt more than getting staked?"

"Maybe it’s a psychosomatic itch you’re scratching? The brand left an emotional toll, Doyle established dominance over you by marking you as his, a stake… I mean you overcame death. The ultimate victory over your foe. Why suffer a pain you’re proud of?"

JJ wondered, actually trying to analyze all that. She looked at her, now amused.

"Or you could always get another tattoo."

Emily laughed at that. JJ continued.

"You know, something transformative? Like a… A phoenix. Or a blackbird."

"I love the song."

Emily said.

"But something tells me, I shouldn’t tread in your waters."

JJ looked at her with a questioning look.

"Come on, JJ. Something’s obviously different about you. You commandeered an Interpol jet. You’re profiling me."

JJ looked down and sighed. Emily continued.

"Why didn’t you say your transfer was a backstop?"

At that JJ’s expression turned to a confused one, indicating that what the other woman said was the truth.

"Oh, I know that look. The 'I can’t trust anyone, but myself' look. I invented it."

Emily added, trying to make it sound funny, but ultimately, it still came out serious, because it was true. JJ smiled at her slightly, but she looked sad.

"Do you ever feel like you’re in way over your head?" Emily nodded, wanting her to continue.

"I got assigned to an information hunt. Instead, I am chasing an unsub, who killed my informant."

"What would Hotch tell you to do?" Emily asked without hesitation. That’s how she found her way around during any investigation, ever since she joined the BAU.

"Focus on victimology, let behavior lead the way…"

JJ listed out loud.

"Exactly. Who did your unsub kill?"

"The one person I was getting through to."

"Why?"

Emily continued with her questions, seeing that they initiated JJ’s thought process.

"Because I was getting through to…" JJ said, frowning.

"I was getting through to her. What if she was about to expose her killer? Someone on the inside…"

Emily could tell that JJ needed somebody else to look at her situation and see it in from a different angle. JJ got really pensive, her eyes glued to some nonexistent point in space.

"It sounds like it's time for you to be the blackbird and flip the script." Emily said slowly.

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

"I guess it does." JJ said with a tiny smile, before getting up.

"Hey, why won’t you try and sleep at least a while? We won’t be landing for several hours, so…"

"Right. You should try and sleep too. I’ve been in a coma, so I caught some Zs, when you think about it. Medically induced ones, but still. You on the other hand must be exhausted."

Emily’s face was covered in grey, purple and yellow spots, but JJ’s face, even though not bruised, still indicated that she had a rough couple of days. She had bags under her eyes, her cheeks pale, instead of slightly flushed like they normally were, her face tired.

They both looked quite miserable.

JJ just smiled in response, but her eyes weren’t a part of that smile. Her eyes stayed sad.

She walked to another seat, so she could try and lie down.

Emily wanted to let JJ rest, because she suspected that by suggesting sleeping, she actually had an excuse to take a nap herself, even if it was supposed to last only few minutes. She deserved a good night sleep, Emily thought to herself, watching the blonde struggling to find a comfortable position. When she eventually succeeded, Prentiss leaned back in her own seat, looking out the window. Her chest was still burning, but she wouldn’t even flinch. Her eyes, almost independently from her will, landed on the other woman every couple of minutes. She watched JJ’s chest move rhythmically, until her breathing became really deep and really steady and she was without a doubt asleep.

She knows what’s happening,

Emily thought to herself.

And so does Hotchner.

Yet, they’re going to have to look at the rest being in pain and they’re going to have to pretend that they’re going through the same thing.

And when she thought about Hotch, it wasn’t that hard to imagine.

He would keep himself perfectly composed in pretty much any situation she ever saw him in.

He was able to calculate his next move without showing as much as a microexpression.

It could be a little unsettling sometimes, but then again when he was surrounded by his family, when he was with Jack, he would expose this softer and loving side of himself. Just a bit. It was quite the view.

Emily had no doubt that he was a good father. And a good man.

He really was great at planning, thinking ahead like no one else;

he had his way of smoothly dealing with issues that inevitably came up during their investigations.

All those things made him an incredible section chief.

Emily was certain that she could trust him with her life. And she did.

It would be hard for anyone to keep such a burdening secret from people you are constantly around.

Eventually, you could start believing the lie, but that also took dedication. It was even harder when you had to lie to people that were actually a part of your life, people that you were close to.

It’s one thing to be undercover and to keep a secret from people you’re trying to infiltrate. During such operations it felt justified to do that, choosing the lesser evil, the end justify the means and all that.

It’s a completely different thing to do that to your friends and family.

"The secret to getting away with lying is believing with all your heart. That goes for lying to yourself even more so than lying to another."

A quote by the author Elizabeth Bear, that she's memorized from reading her New Amsterdam series more than once. She was repeating it in her mind, not being able to stop.

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in. She knew that they made the right call. Still, it was just devastating, thinking what they voluntarily sentenced themselves to.

She tried to calm herself down with proper breathing. It helped.

Emily finally decided to try to sleep. She thought that since she was still medicated, she’d pass out easily, but that didn’t happen.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw faces of her team members. She felt like her chest was being crushed. Breathing didn't really help.

After what felt like forever of forcing herself to fall asleep without any luck, she opened her eyes and just kept them open. She focused her gaze on what was behind the window.

The clouds, barely visible in the navy skies.

She didn’t do it on purpose, but she realized that she started to dissociate.

And she let herself do it.

The numbness felt better than the stinging guilt.

She didn’t really register it, but tears left her eyes, falling on her lashes and cheeks, as her deep, dark eyes focused on the navy color in front of her, forty thousand feet above the ground.

She couldn’t tell how long it took, but only JJ’s turning in her sleep, simultaneously throwing a bag off the seat made Emily come back to reality. Blonde didn’t wake up. She looked really peaceful.

She thought about not seeing her for God knows how long. It stung, to a point of her gasping. Afraid, that maybe that could’ve woken her up, Emily wiped her tears away, but JJ’s eyes stayed closed. And these intrusive thoughts came back to roam inside her head.

Sure, JJ wouldn’t be with the BAU now, since she’s had that informant operation, but no doubt, she would still see them. They were a huge part of her life after all.

Emily watched her face, calm and soft, imaging it twisted in pain and grief, having to pretend one of their own was dead.

In her mind, JJ was one of the strongest people she knew. She was persistent, hardworking and incredibly professional, but she was also kind, nurturing and very loyal.

What she was doing for her at this very moment proved it perfectly.

She knew that JJ accepted her part in this plan on her own and if she were to start trying to talk her out of it (never mind that it was also too late for that at this point), she wouldn’t change her mind. To be fair, if they switched places, she would do the same for JJ, but still, she couldn’t stop worrying about the woman sleeping on a seat across from her.

Emily watched her friend and it brought her some sort of comfort, a feeling of safety.

She finally dozed off, trying not to think, but focused on JJ’s steady breathing instead.

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

"Emily, we’ll be landing in about an hour."

She heard, opening her eyes, and she saw JJ standing in front of her, one of her hands on her shoulder.

"I thought you’d like to change before the transfer."

Emily’s hand landed on top of hers, holding both of them on her shoulder.

"Oh, right. Thank you, I…" she looked down at their hands, trying to focus. "We’ll have to say goodbye soon, right?" she blurted out, looking back at her face.

JJ sighed and sat down right next to her, not taking her hand away, but instead, intertwining their fingers and resting both their hands in Emily’s lap.

"Well, it seems so."

She smiled, but her eyes were reddened, filling with tears once again.

Emily’s gaze was glued to their hands, watching JJ’s wrist and fingers, so delicate right now, but perfectly capable of throwing a good punch. Her eyes stopped at the ring on her finger; Henry’s birthstone. She felt that strange feeling again, that warmth spreading throughout her body.

"It’s not going to last forever. We will find Doyle."

JJ mumbled out and Emily held her breath.

"I know, but… I will miss you so much."

Emily said, before instinctually putting her arms around blonde’s waist, to which she responded with wrapping her arms around her neck. JJ tried to be gentle, because of Emily’s condition, but brunette only held her tighter.

They were so close right now, that she could hear the other woman’s heartbeat. It was slightly elevated.

JJ pulled back just a little, so she could look at her face.

"I will miss you as well." she whispered, their eyes laid on each other.

JJ said the next sentence so quietly, that Emily could barely hear it.

"You’re very special to me, you know that?"

Emily wouldn’t be able to logically explain why she did what she did next, but somehow her hands ended up on both sides of JJ’s face and she leaned in, placing her lips on blonde’s ones.

She wasn’t thinking, but as she kissed her, the other woman immediately kissed her back. Emily felt soft palms cupping her face, her eyes closed. That kiss was filled with so much pain and longing and some kind of desperation.

But it made her whole body fill up with that warmth.

Emily wasn’t even sure what that was, so she tried to be gentle. She ended up kissing JJ in a somewhat shy manner, yet the other agent was deepening the kiss with each second, making it more and more passionate. Emily felt her back hitting the wall and a moan left her throat, captured by the kiss. JJ reacted by slowing down, moving her fingers across her face, running them through her hair. Emily was still cupping JJ’s face, her skin felt so soft and warm under her fingers when she brushed them across her cheeks. Their tongues slowly swirling around one another, this time Emily caused JJ to gasp, as she bit her lower lip. She responded with kissing brunette even more eagerly, so Emily brushed her fingers along her neck, resting them on her shoulders. One of her hands was caressing the skin covering JJ’s collarbone. At that she sighed, barely audibly, but Emily caught it. Her fingers moved towards the skin covering her breastbone.

JJ suddenly pulled back and broke the kiss, leaving both of them breathing heavily, blood flowing through their cheeks and lips.

Emily placed her hands back on JJ’s shoulders, she didn’t mean to make her feel uncomfortable.

Finally, after what felt like forever, she broke the silence.

"JJ, I…" she didn’t even know what to say. It wasn’t right. She had a loving husband, a family. She didn’t mean to ruin it for her.

"We don’t have to talk about this." she said quickly and Emily felt strange. She took her hands off of her shoulders and leaned back, so there was space between them.

"I… Dont… Look, if we won’t see each other for…"

She started, but her voice broke, when she realized what expression showed up on JJ’s face.

Regret.

Emily felt so many contradicting things in that moment, that she basically froze. JJ was looking away.

"You went through something traumatic, we all did. It’s only natural to crave human contact then. And it can present itself in many different ways. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine."

"JJ, it means… It means everything for me."

Emily choked out, placing her hand on top of blonde’s. JJ turned her hand, so she could squeeze Emily’s one between her fingers.

She smiled looking at their hands, but only for a fraction of a second. And then she took her hand away, only to look Emily straight in her eyes. She seemed sad, but also… Agitated.

"I can’t give you what you want, Emily." she said quickly, getting up.

"There’s too many reasons why. And… You have to leave."

JJ stated, sort of matter-of-factly.

Emily couldn’t really comprehend what just happened. But all of the pain, both physical and mental suddenly came back, not dimmed anymore.

This was… This wasn’t the time for this. Come on, Emily, it’s time to compartmentalize again. You used to be so good at this!

Well, before joining the team anyway.

"We’re landing in 15. You have to change, definitely cover up these bruises at least a bit." JJ continued talking, her voice morphing back to that task-oriented tone. She was taking clothes and makeup out of the bags, handing the items to her. "Hurry."

Emily felt like she couldn’t move, but she forced herself to get up and do what she needed to. They weren’t looking at each other and even though she wanted to scream, she kept perfectly quiet.

Compartmentalize. It’s not the time. It didn’t mean anything.

They landed and after JJ made sure that the right person was waiting outside to drive Emily to a safehouse, she stood in front of her and hugged her. Emily wasn’t really expecting that right now, since the atmosphere was so tense.

"I will miss you, no matter what." JJ whispered and even though Emily was so stunned from the pain and all around confused, she knew they couldn’t part without a proper goodbye.

"Thank you, for everything. Take care of them." Emily said and she embraced her tightly, one last time. Emily wanted to say that she’ll miss her like crazy, but it felt both like too much and not enough.

She didn’t want to let them turn this into a final goodbye.

"Of course. I will see you soon, okay?" JJ smiled and Emily smiled back. It wasn’t the best forced smile, but she just couldn’t do better in that moment.

"Goodbye, Jennifer." she said sounding way too official, taking a first step out.

"Goodbye, Emily."

Prentiss turned away and quickly made her way to the parked car.

She saw JJ’s face one last time through the tiny window.

The car left the landing strip and disappeared in the night.

„Goodbye, Emily.” she thought to herself, as she caught her own reflection in the side mirror.

„Goodbye, Emily.”

JJ whispered, placing a red rose on the coffin.

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rika-kihira · 3 years

Text

Rika Kihira - Canon interview

original interview here.

Rika Kihira interviewed by Mika Noguchi

“I will spend this off-season being strict to myself so I can believe in myself at the Olympics.”

Rika Kihira, successfully landed the quad Salchow jump at the Japan Nationals. She finished in 7th place at the World Championship, but she had finished 2nd after her good performance for the SP.

She has turned this bitter experience into motivation for further improvement. And she has already started to move forward.

Q: You have entered Waseda University and enrolled in the department of Human Science this April. Is there any research field that you are interested in, or (do you have) a goal as a college student?

I have a strong desire to do any research that is related to my skating after all. That is the reason why I chose this specific field so I can use my research for my skating. Unfortunately, I couldn't attend the entrance ceremony because it was right after I had returned from the World Championship, and the classes have already started from April.

I enjoy studying about the relation of children’s health and environment to their athletic ability. Unlike adults, there are still some areas for children where their thinking does not function. So this is the area we analyze what kind of behaviours they would do and how do they improve their athletic ability.

Q: In terms of the environment for children’s physical activity, would you think it’s possible to apply your own life experience that you have been trying various sports from childhood?

I haven’t thought about making use of my childhood experience yet, but I feel that I am experimenting with my own body and that leads to my daily research. When I check my body condition such as fatigue, various movements and success rate of jumps and compare them to previous data, I often have my aha! moment by that. So I would like to do research that can be used for skating in future.

Q: The fact that you are experimenting with your own body is something that only top athletes can do. What kind of research do you want to apply to skating specifically?

After all, I want to think about my jumps theoretically. I'd like to do something like graphing and analyzing things that can be quantified, such as the changes of heart rate while skating the program, the difference between when I’m tired or energized, and how does the quality of sleep affect my performance—things like that.

If properly converted into data and accumulated, you can objectively see what you have experienced in the competition and then you can understand the reason and meaning of success and mistakes.

I haven't fully understood the university system yet, so I would like to look for an opportunity to find out how to conduct a study with my own body effectively.

Q: It has been an unusual season that you were training in Switzerland as your main training base in the middle of the pandemic.

There were times when I struggled to keep my motivation high. Because all the competitions I had planned to attend got cancelled until last December, I didn’t have any chance to show what I had been training for and I also didn’t get to do intense training.

There was also a time when I couldn't enjoy training because there had been no chance to feel a sense of accomplishment. But the training environment in Switzerland was very good in that I could naturally have a feeling of gratitude. I could somehow manage to let the difficult time go by with that feeling (of gratitude).

Q: It seems that your life in Switzerland gives you a very positive effect, doesn’t it Kihira-san?

I usually felt stressed before the competitions, thinking about the competitions all the time or connecting every single thing happening to negative feelings and thinking, “Oh...I don’t think I can make it at the competition either.” But now I feel that the current environment in Switzerland made me think more positively.

During the off season especially, the training was very difficult, so I didn't have to worry if I wasn't doing my best. Each day I started feeling a sense of accomplishment when I felt my whole body was exhausted (after the training). Although we had a very intense training menu, it wasn’t so difficult to push myself together with my friendly team mates while being surrounded by nature in Switzerland.

Q: You landed the quad Salchow jump for the first time at the Japan Nationals last December. With this success, was there any change to your mind about going into the World Championship?

It was difficult for me to gain confidence about myself so easily just because I had landed a quad jump for once. So I wasn't really able to feel excited for the World Championship. But when I arrived in Stockholm and entered the venue, I felt like "I've done what I could do and I want to show what I've been training in front of everyone naturally”.

Q: At Worlds, you landed triple Axel jump and had a good start with 2nd after SP.

I was determined to perform with gratitude for many people who supported me until now. I received all the support from my coaches, my fans, and my family. I had no choice but to show my gratitude there when I went to jump (the triple Axel). And I also wanted to confirm my love for figure skating by landing the jump successfully at the competition.

Q: Only a few female skaters have been able to do both triple Axel and other quad jumps. Do you find it (being able to jump 3A and quads) significantly difficult?

Actually, the triple Axel is more difficult to stabilize since it is a kind of jump that really depends on the ice condition. So the timing for the jump take-off may easily change because of the position of the blades or the softness of the ice.

And the quad Salchow on the other hand, I do feel it is relatively stable even at the different rinks. So I think that the triple Axel is a slightly unique jump.

Q: Is there any difficulty in balancing the two types of these difficult jumps?

I don't think the triple Axel is becoming [more] difficult after I've landed the quad Salchow. But as I practiced it more, I found that jumping triple Axel followed by quadruple Salchow in one program is difficult compared to just doing each jump alone.

I think the fact that there are only a few female skaters who can do both types of jumps is because they tend to get mixed up on how to use their body for each jump.

For me, if I continue my training everyday so that I can do run-through without any mistakes, there will be less difficulties to do these jumps.

Q: There were expectations for you to challenge the quad Salchow and the triple Axel for FP at the World Championship.

I was practicing the quad Salchow during the official practice in the morning practice on the day of the free program. But soon after the official practice, they switched the rink for FP from the sub rink to the main rink. (t/n: it seemed that official practice was held at the sub rink that was supposed to be used for FP.) Accordingly, I only had 6 minutes practice for the last chance to adjust myself to the ice. I thought I couldn’t make it in time so I decided to go with two triple Axels instead of a quad Salchow (and a triple Axel).”

It was difficult for me to adjust to the ice in just 6 minutes, but I think there will be such a situation at the Olympics. In order to jump the quad Salchow and the triple Axel at the competition, I really felt the importance of the training to adjust myself immediately in just 6 minutes.

Q: What kind of training do you want to do in order to adjust yourself and be able to jump both the quad and the triple Axel in just 6 minutes?

I was always checking my jumps starting from triples (and then quads) in order during 6 minutes practice, but at the World Championship, 6 minutes ended when I just finished checking my triple Axels twice.

As I’m including the quad jump into my program regularly, I feel that I need my triple jumps to be ready for the performance without having to check on them during the 6 minutes practice. I would like to do more training to increase the stability of triple jumps on a daily basis.

Q: You mentioned that you did well with your mental control at the World Championship.

Yes. I think I was able to relax rather than feel nervous. From my experience, I started to understand that I’m unable to perform well when I'm nervous, so I feel that I've figured out how to concentrate and relax clearly.

Q: Is it quite different from the way you concentrated before?

For example, if I’m getting nervous and wondering if I can really jump during the waiting time, I would move my whole face and say “A, I, U, E, O” to loosen my face muscles, and then I also laugh at myself. This is something that I do to turn my anxiety into excitement, and my nervousness into laughter.

Also, in order to avoid being nervous right before my performance, I usually skate with this image of all judges sitting in their position, and think “how would it be if this is the real competition?” during the official performance.

Q: After the World Championship, many of your comments were very positive, weren’t they?

I definitely think it’s better not to get depressed and think like, "I’m not good at everything.” And I’m very positive about the fact that I'd been training really hard to increase the stability of quad jumps for the competitions.

I remember that my body movement was better during the morning practice on FP day and my performance was better than SP.

And two days after the competition, my condition was getting better again and I could pull myself together. Of course I have the regret that I couldn't get a good result, but now I want to think about what was wrong and what was good, and move forward positively while reflecting on it.

Q: Please tell us about your programs in future. Your SP’s one-handed cartwheel was getting so much attention this season. Do you have any plans for the next season already?

Right now, I’m planning to keep my SP "The Fire Within", but I will change my FP "Baby, God Bless You" to something else. I really love my FP’s music this season, the birth of life was its theme. It was a beautiful program and also had good flow to it, so I tried to express the beauty of the music by a sense of speed of skating.

For the Olympics, I am planning to create a program with good speed and also some parts where I can go slow and take a good rest.

I really want to work hard on expressing the emotion through (my) facial expression so the audience will understand the program effortlessly, like a story being told, connected from beginning to end.

Also, it is important not to make any mistakes even if I put in difficult jumps, so I want to make sure to have a part where I can calmly adjust myself before going into the second half of the program. So I want my new program to have some sort of accent (for the rhythm of music and choreography).

Q: What kind of training do you want to do during this off-season?

First of all, intense body training. I’m planning to go over my competitive programs (SP&FS) when I will practice the show programs during the upcoming ice shows from spring till summer.

In order not to waste my time until the Beijing Olympics, I want to think about the Olympics every day and make sure to do intense training when my physical condition is good.

By spending the (off-season) time being strict to myself in this way, I can believe in myself by thinking, "I've been doing my best for the Olympics" at the moment of my performance at the Olympics. So I want to spend this off-season being strict for myself.

Q: For the Olympics, many people (media) will focus on how you would fight against the Russian skaters.

At the World Championship, I felt that the Russian skaters were able to perform their best at the very right timing (competition). But right now, I think there’s no need to compare myself with somebody else, the result from this competition came from the fact that I couldn’t perform what I could usually do.

It’s not that I have some parts that need to be improved compared to other people, but I could find a lot of my own challenges. I want to overcome them before going into the Olympics.

You may make a big mistake if you keep trying at random, just because you are way behind the Russian players.

If someone will do quintuple jumps, I wonder if I would go for quint jumps, that's not the case. I believe that it will eventually show in the scores if I keep doing what I can do right now.

I did feel that the Russian ladies skaters are strong, but I just want to calmly analyze my situation and keep doing my best every day.

In April 2021, remotely during the quarantine period after returning to Japan

thank you to Fukuhana for translating and to Sunny for proofreading and editing the interview.

#rika kihira #interview #translation #season: 2020 2021

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ayatosmlktea · 4 years

Text

A/N: The things you think of while cutting tomatoes. @bakugoustanaccount this is for you because you deserve some Bakugou fluff. Sorry if it’s kinda shit. Getting back into writing was way harder than I thought. Culinary School Bakugou AU

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: None, fluff

Pairings: Bakugou x reader

Disclaimer: I know nothing about culinary school. So don’t roast me. I tried my best!

Tags: @babybabydoki, @thesecretnerd27

Bakugou was not a man of words, at least not when it came to expressing his feelings. Sure he had no problem giving people a piece of his mind when they pissed him off or when things were not up to his standards. But talking about his actual feelings, like the crush he’d harboured on you for a little over a year? Not a chance in hell were the words coming out of his mouth.

In all honesty, Bakugou wasn’t sure why you stuck around him. He had been such an ass to you the first month of classes, constantly ragging on you for your lack of coordination and time management in the kitchen. In his defense, you were amateur at best and probably shouldn’t have wasted all that money to get into one of the finest culinary schools Japan had to offer.

‘It looked like fun’ was all you had to say. Your reasoning had shook the blond to his core, and he had been certain that you’d drop out within the first week or two if he was being generous. However, much to his surprise you’d been persistent in trying to succeed.

You eventually got fed up with his incessant criticisms and had bit the bullet to ask for his help. Bakugou wasn’t sure what to say, the image of you clearly distressed and face slick with sweat, chef’s coat covered in stains tugged on heartstrings he didn’t know existed. Begrudgingly he agreed, after all it was a boost to his ego.

He held it over your head ever since, constantly bringing up the cause for your sudden improvement due to his culinary genius. The two of you somehow grew closer after that, more often than not you found yourself over at his apartment until almost four in the morning coming up with new recipes, trying out different flavour combinations and inevitably eating way too much.

“I think this is the best one so far” you manage to get out in between bites of cake.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, dumbass.” He grumbles, flicking your forehead roughly. Sticking your cake clad tongue at you burst into a fit of laughter as Bakugou cringes.

“That’s disgusting,” he muttered carrying empty plates to the sink and running hot water over them.

“Seriously Bakugou, I think you’ll get an A plus with that cake.” Scoffing loudly Bakugou is grateful his back is turned so you can’t see the huge blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Shut up and help me clean up, brat”

“Always so eloquent Katsuki” you grin unaware of the way the sound of his name rolling off your tongue sent his heart into cardiac arrest.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You were always clumsy, something that Bakugou knew all too well. The amount of times you’d almost cut yourself trying to catch your knife that was about to slide off the counter was enough to guarantee early heart failure in the explosive blond.

You shared the same workstation as Bakugou and while he was always one to throw himself head first into their assignments for the day; he was finding it harder and harder not to get lost in watching you bite your bottom lip while you read the day’s recipe.

The dark circles under your eyes a testament to how hard you’d been working to catch up with the rest of the class. Bakugou probably wouldn’t directly tell you but your pairing skills had drastically improved since the first month of classes.

Your knife work was becoming more seamless and uniform and the smile you’d flashed him when your instructor had complimented you on it made his stomach clench with butterflies.

“Thanks I guess” you smirked later that evening. It was now routine for the two of you to hangout after class, going back to either of your apartments to try and get ahead for the next lesson. Plus it helped that you always managed to whip up dinners that rivaled any pricey restaurant you’d ever been taken out to.

“You guess? If it wasn’t for me your ass would be failing” Bakugou retorts hottily, his gaze watching your fingers as they glide a potato across the madalin a little too carelessly for this liking. Your eyes were focused on him, attention not on the extremely sharp blade that was capable of slicing your fingers in half.

“Watch your fingers dumba-” before he can even finish his sentence you yelp in pain pulling your hand back dropping the potato and cradling your fingers against your chest.

“Fuckfuckfuck” you hiss repeatedly squeezing your fingers together to try and stop the blood from seeping out.

“I fucking told you to be careful!” Bakugou growls grabbing a paper towel and running it under water before wrapping it around your fingers.

“I was being careful!” You shot back through gritted teeth. It was obviously a lie, but you were in pain and your pride was hurt at being called out on your bullshit.

“Tch you’re bleeding all over my floor dumbass, this is careful to you?” Your recklessness annoyed him, and the fact that you weren’t taking it seriously made him even more angry.

“Okay whatever! I’m an idiot, glad we worked that out” you snapped back, the painful throbbing of your fingers was making it hard to match Bakugou’s sarcastic energy like you usually did.

You didn’t want to look at your fingers as he unwrapped the soaked towel from around them, the sight of all that blood was making you light headed and before you knew it you were hyperventilating.

“Oi, stop freaking out! It doesn’t look that bad! I don’t think you need stitches.” He shouts and while it would have made anyone else freak out more it helped you calm down. If Bakugou was calm, something was definitely wrong.

“Hold this tightly” he grumbled before disappearing into the bathroom.

Against your better judgement you looked at the gash across your pinky and ring finger. They were fairly large cuts but at least you couldn’t see your bone...right?

“Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” Bakugou’s voice makes your shoulders jump, a guilty smile on your face as you press the wet towel over your fingers. It made you squeamish but you knew that bleeding out was far less appealing than a few minutes of pain.

“Since when did you get a first aid kit?”

“Since I became friends with your clumsy ass” he muttered under his breath.

“Did you just call us friends? Wow, I truly have peaked. Thank you God”

“Shut up or I’ll kick you out”

“You wouldn’t dare” you were right, he wouldn’t have. But you didn’t need to know that.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Throughout the next year your friendship with the blond only grew. You had met his close group of friends who he would never call his family, but you had learned to read between the lines with Bakugou. Mina often commented on you being the only other girl he’d managed to get close to in his life, and while you blew her off every single time it made your stomach flutter with butterflies at the possibility of something more.

Bakugou paid attention to a lot of things, even if it didn’t seem like it. Small pieces of yourself that you revealed in passing casual conversations stuck to his brain like glue.

The longer you stuck around him, the harder it was becoming to push down the growing feelings he had for you. There were only so many times he could watch you bite your lip without imagining tugging it between his own teeth. It was the last class before you would have two weeks of in between semesters. Two weeks where Bakugou wouldn’t see you on a daily basis, he wasn’t even sure if you wanted to keep practicing together although he hoped you’d ask him to rather than having to bring it up himself.

“My fingers are about to cramp in this position forever” you huff, adjusting the grip around your knife before continuing to peel potatoes. A stray piece of your hair had fallen from your bun and without thinking Bakugou reached out and tucked it behind your ear.

You stopped mid-sentence as the tips of your ears turned bright red. When his brain finally caught up to his actions Bakugou didn’t speak to you for the rest of the class, the pounding in his chest was almost painful. He had left before you had finished cleaning up your station.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

He ignored your texts and calls, he needed to sort out his feelings. He hadn’t expected to let you this close to him, to worm your way into his heart and become a part of his routine. He didn’t want to fall in love with you, but everything about you that he had found annoying quickly turned into everything he loved about you.

The crinkle of your nose when you didn't understand something, the way you wandered over to his station to steal extra pastries off of him. Your compliments always made his heart skip a beat, it shouldn’t have been so important to him but Bakugou found himself craving your praise more than your instructor.

Slamming the door closed a little harder than was necessary he dumped his bag on the floor and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. He needed to get your smell off of him, his fingers still tingled with electricity if he thought back to the feeling of skin under his touch.

Bakugou couldn’t deny that he had more fun with you than when he was working alone. Even if you did get distracted every five seconds. It was stupid, you occupied every waking thought he had. He couldn’t even cook without turning to you to get your opinion on a recipe before realizing you weren’t there.

The empty pit that dropped in his stomach every time he thought about messaging you only grew as the days dragged on. You hadn’t messaged him since last week and it was a little pathetic to admit that every notification ping had his heart racing, hoping that it was you.

But why would you do that when it was him who had started this war. Bakugou’s pride was going to be the death of him, he would have rather died than admit that he was in love with you. His stubbornness wouldn’t allow himself to admit that he needed you more than he had wanted to believe. So what if time passed slower without you, he’d find things to fill the void. So what if he missed the sound of your laugh, it didn’t matter. He had other friends.

Nothing tasted good anymore, there was always something missing in everything he cooked. He couldn’t be bothered to try anymore, most of his nights ended with the kitchen in a mess and him cursing loudly in frustration. You were missing. He couldn’t fight it anymore, he needed to apologize. Everything felt incomplete without you. Classes were starting in a few days and he knew he needed to fix things before then.

Come over for dinner. At 8. If you’re late I’m not letting you in.

Wow, not even a hello.

It’s free food, dumbass.

Fine.

Bakugou’s hands trembled slightly as he put his phone down, it was far from perfect but it was a start. Throwing on his jacket he felt a surge of excitement and passion that he hadn’t felt for nearly two weeks.

He would make it up to you.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Your stomach growled as you stepped foot into Bakugou’s apartment. You were still mad at him for ignoring you but God if his cooking wasn’t enough to make your resolve crumble.

“7:59, you’re really cutting it close huh?”

“I was debating whether to come or not” you replied smoothly, hanging your jacket on the coat rack. Your answer felt like little needles poking him in the chest, this was going to be much more difficult than he had anticipated.

Bakugou noticed that you looked more put together than one the days he’d invited you to come over and cook before and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with your feelings towards him. Not that he was complaining, the outfit you had chosen hugged your body in all the right places, not to mention your lips were looking extra kissa-snap out of it. If he messed it up now there would be no going back.

It’s not a date. You repeatedly told yourself, and yet you had still put in more effort than you should have. Maybe you had worn your sheer lacy black top on purpose, it was just a confidence boost after all. And most definitely not because you were trying to give him a sneak peek of what was under it.

It had been far too long since you had invaded his personal space and the smell of his cologne had your body buzzing with nervous energy. You had hoped that after the hair incident something would have happened between the two of you. But you hadn’t expected him to ignore you. You shouldn’t have been surprised, it shouldn’t have hurt, but all the nights you had spent at his place had you feeling like maybe there was room for something more.

“Whatcha making?” You asked peering over his shoulder.

“It’s a surprise” he muttered, turning around to push you out of the kitchen.

“Well I can still smell it” you retort, swerving around him to turn on the oven light but before you could reach it Bakugou grabbed your waist and tugged you backwards.

“I said it’s a surprise! Don’t go and ruin it”

“You’re no fun Katsuki” you sigh, trying to act as nonchalant as possible while his palms burn their imprint against your skin.

“Trust me Y/N! Stop making this harder than it needs to be!” There was no winning against Bakugou when he was in a stubborn mood. Pouting you make your way back to the couch because you weren’t allowed to be in the kitchen until it was time to eat.

It felt oddly comfortable being in his apartment, you’d never really been left to entertain yourself before. If you closed your eyes it almost felt like he was your boyfr-nope. You were not going to go down that road. Every rational thought was screaming at you that it was stupid to believe he harboured any feelings for you, especially after what had happened two weeks ago.

“Oi Y/N! If you wanna eat, get your ass up” Bakugou shouted from the kitchen and you snapped out of your daydream. Definitely not your boyfriend…

You were ready to whip out a snarky comment but the words caught in your throat at the sight before you. It was...dare you say romantic. Bakugou’s eyes were watching you intently while you struggled to gather your thoughts. The room was dimly lit with a few candles, your eyes glued to the dish of pasta in front of you.

“Are you just gonna stare or are you actually going to eat?” Bakugou pulls out your chair and the cage that were guarding your butterflies was threatening to break open.

“I’ve never seen anyone make lasagna look so...romantic” You laugh, letting him push your seat in for you.

“It’s your favourite isn’t it?” He asks with a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. Your heart is hammering forcefully against your ribcage, in the entire year you’d been friends with Bakugou you’d only mentioned it a handful of times. To be honest you weren’t even sure he had been listening to you, the reasons behind his motives for making your favourite dish had your cheeks heating up.

“I didn’t think you’d remember that” you mumbled.

“I remember a lot of things” For some reason the way he says it has you clinging onto a hope you know you shouldn’t. Bakugou was not in love with you, it was purely coincidence that he’d made your favourite meal.

It didn’t mean anything.

At least that’s what you tried telling yourself, until he brought desert out. Conversation had eventually begun to flow easier than it had in the beginning, probably due to the two glasses of wine that you’d consumed. You weren’t tipsy but you were definitely feeling bolder than before.

“Is that what I think it is?” you gasp as Bakugou sets down a pie tin. The surge of pride he feels at your wide eyed stare was comparable to nothing else. You can feel your mouth watering as he cuts you a piece of cheesecake.

“Ohmygod Katsuki this is so good!” you moan as you take a bite of cheesecake. It’s salted caramel, your favourite. Something weird was happening, something you might not have had the balls to pursue under normal circumstances. Liquid courage igniting your veins, you force yourself to make eye contact with crimson orbs and ask the question you weren’t sure you wanted an answer to.

“Why did you ignore me?” You can almost see the wheels turning in his head, and for a second you wish you could melt into the floor and disappear. The silence was suffocating and you seriously considered just grabbing your coat and dashing out of his apartment.

“It’s okay if you do-”

“I have feelings for you”

His words shock you and for a moment you can’t tell if what you had heard was a figment of your imagination.

“What?” every nerve in your body is on edge, fight or flight system ready to bolt the hell out of his apartment if things go wrong.

“I have feelings for you, dumbass! For a whole year, and I didn’t want to deal with it because I’m scared to fuck it up! I’m not good with words, the only way I can express myself is through cooking.” It takes a moment for it to click in your mind but his amused scoff and eye roll when your eyes light up with recognition are almost endearing.

“Wait, so you did all this...to confess?”

“Isn’t that just what I said?”

“So, what if I said I liked you too?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your throat suddenly felt way too dry.

“Then I’d kiss you” Your stomach was doing somersaults and you were sure that under normal circumstances the nerves alone would have made you puke.

“I like you too Katsuki” the look Bakugou gives you is almost feral and before you can react he’s already moved to cup your face in his hands. The second his lips touch yours, the cage inside your stomach breaks open and butterflies are spreading throughout your body. Your hands tangle themselves in soft blond locks, angling your face to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you respond without hesitation. You can taste salted caramel on his tongue and it has your head spinning. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was such a good kisser. Maybe he was boyfriend material after all.

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