Volleyball On The Brain (Kageyama X Reader/Soulmate AU)

Envy on Leave (Spencer Reid x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After failing his field test, Spencer is stuck on desk duty for a week. You, his usual partner for cases, get put with Morgan for the newest case, and Spencer can’t say he’s a fan. Oh no, he’s not a fan at all. 

A/N: Hey I watch criminal minds now for one reason and one reason only. Can u guess what it is? Anyways, enjoy!

Word count: 2236

        His eyes had followed you all day. His gaze stayed locked on your figure as you smiled, laughed, and pushed Morgan away with a blush. On any normal day, that would be you with him, but since Spencer failed his last gun-on-the-field test, he had been punished with one week of desk duty. 

        ...Leaving you to partner up with Morgan on the newest case. 

        You and Spencer were good friends, both bonding over being the youngest on the squad while being somewhat prodigies. But where Spencer thrived in mind, you thrived in body, having one of the best aims at the academy and being exceptional at hand-to-hand combat. 

        Naturally, they paired you and Spencer together, tying together the two weak links. You’d needed more experience and familiarity with the cases the BAU handled; Spencer had needed training (or protection) on the off chance of a physical altercation happening on a case. But now that Spencer was confined to the office only, you were working without a partner, and so you had been paired up with Morgan.

        Something you didn’t seem to mind one bit. 

        He could see it, the both of you working together over a table scattered with papers. Derek’s hand would brush yours or your shoulder would bump his. You would snort at something he said or look deep into his eyes while explaining a lead you had uncovered. 

        Spencer burned with envy, jaw tight and eye twitching as he clicked on his mouse a little too tightly, only to hear a small crack. Glancing down, he scoffed at the sight of his jammed button, no longer able to move and therefore no longer able to select anything on his computer. Useless. 

        When he returned his gaze to your and Derek’s forms, his chest jumped at the sight of you staring right at him, a small smile on your face. The moment you noticed Spencer look up, though, you flinched away, a flush of pink rising up to your cheeks as you began to cough and spin in the complete opposite direction to avoid his gaze. 

        Spencer rose to his feet in concern, and Derek glanced at you in surprise, chuckling and patting you on the back as you choked on your own spit. 

        “Wrong pipe?” Spencer could barely hear him say from the distance but could read his lips. Not that he focused on those words too much, too busy watching the way Derek’s hand rested on your back and rubbed your shoulder blade. 

        It was when you whispered something then, Derek leaning in to hear you better and you, in turn, leaning closer to him as well that Spencer finally tore his gaze away. A swell of hot jealousy rose in his chest and burned his throat like bile. 

        His chair rolled back and slammed against the wall, almost shaking the room as Spencer snapped up from his seat. People startled to attention at the sound of the crash, eyes wide and confused when they saw Spencer as the cause. He saw you had twisted around as well to see what had happened, brows furrowing and lips parted when you met his gaze. 

        He held it, eyes never leaving yours as he tugged his computer toward him, pulling random cords. When he finally unhooked something, anything, he gathered up the cord in his hands and announced to the group, “I need a new mouse.”

        With his detached keyboard dangling by his side, Spencer stormed out of the room, leaving confusion and concern in his wake. 

                                ~~~

        “You need to tell her.”

        “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

        “Honey, you’re smart, not smooth--give up on this whole ‘lying makes me look cool’ spiel.”

        Spencer bit his tongue, trying to focus his eyes on the screen that Garcia had pulled up. Photos of the recent unsub who’d been murdering teenage girls in a small town. Stuck at the home office, Spencer could only wait for information of the case’s status to reach him, otherwise he had no clue how it was going or how the team was doing. 

        Or if you were okay.

        “Is it really a lie if there’s nothing to tell?” He dropped his eyes to the phone, still ringing and waiting for Morgan to pick up the call for the unsub’s identity.

        “No,” Garcia sighed, “but in your case, there’s plenty to tell.” She adjusted her glasses while zooming in on the various pictures, only peering out of the corner of her eyes to say, “Face it, Reid, you’re a smitten kitten.”

        “I am not-”

        “Sweetness, whatcha got for me?”

        “Suspect’s name and criminal history, as always. Aren’t I just a god?” Spencer rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair and giving up on the argument as Garcia relays the information. Instead, he focused on the screen, familiarizing himself with the suspect until he heard your voice. 

        “Is Reid okay?” you asked in the background of the call, barely audible over Garcia and Morgan’s flirting. Spencer straightened up at that, head whipping toward the phone as he stopped in his tracks to listen for more.

        Garcia raised a smug brow as she paused mid-sentence, both lines quiet and waiting for Spencer’s response. Spencer parted his lips, preparing to speak before you asked, “Is he there with Garcia?”

        “Y-yes,” he sputtered, “I’m here.”

        The room turned quiet, neither side of the call quite sure how to respond. A shuffling on Morgan’s side clued into the fact that he’d handed her his phone, allowing her to talk to her missing partner. 

        “Oh, um,” her voice was louder, its shakiness more noticeable, “cool-I mean, good.”

        His heart warmed. “Yeah.”

        It went dead silent again, silent enough that Spencer could hear Garcia’s lashes brushing her skin as she rolled her eyes. There was a buzzing running along his veins as he sat and waited, thinking of how you’d wanted to know if he was okay, if he was there.

        “So… do- do you have any ideas about our guy?”

        And just like that, it was just you and Spencer delving into a case together again, even if he was so far away. 

        “A few.”

        “Give ‘em to me.”

                                ~~~

        It was the first unsub you’d taken down single-handedly, and the team decided to celebrate. “To YNs!” rang around the bar as the BAU clinked beer bottles together, everyone congratulating you and patting you on the back. A large grin spread across your face, crinkling the corners of your eyes and making them gleam. 

        Spencer watched from a stool at the bar, a smile settling on his face dotted with a hint of pride. He watched as Garcia gave you a side hug, cracking her bottle against yours before whispering something in your ear that made your eyes widen. He tensed in his seat after that, grin dropping as a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. 

        She told her. YN knows how I feel, and it wasn’t even from me. Shit.

        Your eyes never looked up, never tried to meet his even though you knew where Spencer was in the room. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. 

        Panic rattled his brain as he watched your every emotion from then on, trying to gauge how you felt about what Garcia had told you. 

        It was hard to do when Morgan approached you. 

        That look was on his face; Spencer knew it well. After a few beers, Morgan was loose enough to hit on women, loose enough to hit on you.

        Like a hawk, he watched the interaction--Morgan spoke under his breath, you laughed, he laid his hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him with that gleam in your eyes. 

        Spencer should have known. He should have seen it coming. Why would any girl prefer him over a guy like Morgan? Especially you? Big, muscular guys who were at your level of strength and stamina, and even compared to your mind in some ways. 

        Why would you want him? He couldn’t even pass the gun-on-the-field test. 

        Even though it hurt, Spencer watched your interaction with Morgan a little longer, taking in how you nodded at what he said, biting your lip and blushing at what he’d muttered as Morgan pointed at him and- Shit, she’s looking, act natural!

        Spencer spun toward the bar, almost falling off his stool as he slammed his hands against the counter to balance himself. Heart pounding in his chest, he set down the beer, a sigh escaping as he set his elbows on the surface and dropped his head into his hands.

        If there was ever a time where Spencer envied Morgan (which wasn’t often), it would be now. He thought you and him had had a connection; every case aside from this week’s you’d worked by his side, asking for his guidance and in turn adding your own opinions, unfiltered by previous cases. It was his shoulder that brushed against yours while cramming together to overlook the same group of files and papers; it was his hand that skimmed over yours; he was the one you walked out with every night, looked toward for guidance, high-fived after solving a case, and laid your head on during a long flight home. 

        How could he have been so stupid?

        “Spence?”

        YN.

        A hand pressed on top of one of his, still buried in his own hair. His skin tingled at your touch, and his heart tightened in appreciation. Gently, you tugged his hands out of his hair, forcing him to look up as you took a seat to his right. 

        “Hey, the only one who gets to tousle your hair is me, remember?” you teased, cheeks blooming into a soft pink. Spencer straightened up and faced you, eyes trailing up and down your face. When you shifted uncomfortably, he paled in embarrassment.

        “Congrats on your first solve, YN.” Instantly, your face lit up, and Spencer’s chest constricted. God, he loved when you smiled at him. 

        “I couldn’t have done it without you.” You took a sip of your beer, missing Spencer’s face falling.

        “Actually, it seems this was the one case you have done without me.” His voice turned forlorn, attracting your attention. 

        “What?”

        His lips quirked in bitter amusement. “You seemed to handle things quite well with your new partner.”

        Brows furrowing, you set down your beer, turning fully toward Spencer. “Are you talking about Morgan?”

        Yes.

        “Yes.”

        You paused, gaze turning thoughtful as you observed Spencer’s every action. You could see right through him; he could feel it. But your words confused him. “This case… I didn’t like it very much.”

        “What? Why?”

        You shook your head. “It wasn’t right.”

        “But you got the guy.”

        “No,” you smiled softly. “I know that, but… I didn’t enjoy it like I usually do. Not that I’m, like, a sick person or something!” you rambled nervously, hands gesturing in a panic. “It’s just,” you clenched your eyes shut and took a breath, “it sucked that I couldn’t work it with you.”

        Spencer froze. 

        “What?”

        You opened your eyes and looked at him, face fully red. “I wish you’d been there. You know, instead of… in-instead of Morgan.” 

        Spencer’s jaw dropped. Your eyes widened. 

        “Not that I don’t like Morgan! Morgan’s awesome! Not that I like Morgan in that way, though--and-and I don’t like you in that way either! Wait, that’s not what I meant--what I mean is that I like you in a way that I don’t like Morgan. No, wait, I like you in a way that is different from the way I like Morgan, and-crap, that sounds wrong-”

        Your voice seemed to fade as Spencer watched you frantically ramble. His heart pounded so loud it drowned out his own thoughts until all he could hear was Morgan’s not the one she likes; it’s me. She likes me. YN likes me and misses me and wants me around her and-holy shit. 

        “-and so yeah, I like you.” Your mouth slowed to a stop as you finally took in a breath, face transforming from the previous purple to a flushed red. 

        Spencer couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t take his eyes off you. The girl he’d fallen for since the minute he’d first met her returned his feelings. 

        “Spence?”

        His eyes dropped to your lips, following the way they muttered his name. 

        “Spencer?” 

        He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers along your warm cheek before running his thumb over your bottom lip. 

        “Say it again,” he mumbled. “Please.”

        “Spencer?”

        “No.”

        “I like you, Spencer,” you smiled against his thumb.

        “Yes.” He leaned forward, stepping down from his stool and still towering over you as his nose pressed against yours. He tugged your lips to his, his hands drawing yours up to his hair before cupping your face. When you tightened your grip on his locks, he sighed. His hot breath warmed your face as he pulled away, his thumb brushing along your puffy lower lip. “Always yes.”

Stranger Things Masterlist

☔ = Angst

🌦️ = Angst to Fluff

💥 = Crack

☀️ = Fluff

💋 = Smut

🖤 = Yandere

🔔 = Request

🟪Imagines🟪

Henry Creel/001: 

■  In the Black Widow’s Nest 🖤 🌦️ (eventual/slight 💋)

Medieval AU; Series (Ongoing)

Prince Henry of the Creel Dynasty is finally in search of a wife, and in the spirit of courtship, King Victor has invited young royalty from all neighboring kingdoms to vie for his hand. But with so much royalty introduces the need for many more maids in the castle than usual.

Enter: You.

You're nothing but a servant in his home, an intruder in his prized library, and an utter nuisance in his mind. But then you survive his attack, and in an unexpected way nonetheless. That makes you... interesting.

You've caught his eye—congratulations! Now, you must deal with the consequences of loving a heartless prince in a world where far worse things lurk in the castle than dirty garderobes.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

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

🟣Headcanons🟣

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Billy) 🌦️ 🔔

He Has a Nightmare About You (Billy, Steve) 🌦️

Imma just keep this here bc ughhh. It’s so good and happy, I love it!🥰 People deserve to wake up to this song.

You Accidentally Confess Over Text (Haikyuu!! Fake Texts)

(Bokuto and Akaashi Version)

A/N: I AM ALIVEEEE✨✨yalllll it’s been a fat minute, how’ve u been?? How’s school and all that Jazz? Mine is a goddamn nightmare, and its like even with the hybrid, I’m gettin claustrophobic🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ anyways, I had the day off and about five minutes to myself, so here’s a lil thing to “check in” I guess. Thanks for 2.1k guys, and enjoy!

I know everyone is saying this, but I really do love Reborn, and I hope u continue it soon! Hope ur doing well!

ahhh goodness yeah looking back especially now at my writing in reborn im rly struggling with how to continue it like my portrayal of the reader was so cringey pls just let her die in ur mind omg

and that sucks cuz i have like a 3000 word note chock full of future chapter ideas but i just dont know how i could ever continue without rewriting the whoel thing. what truly sucks tho is that hq fandom is dying now that the manga has ended so not many people care much for the story anyway, and why put so much effort into something no one will care for, u know, especially when it's something you partially regret.

even so, im glad you have enjoyed the story, anon. maybe one day i shall continue it, perhaps with new characters or smth, but for now the story shall patiently wait for its day in the sun

It’s pronounced gif and no one can tell me otherwise

Nail Polish and Peer Pressure (Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You just wanted to paint your nails in his room, but Bakugou always had to throw a hissy fit. No matter; revenge can take many forms. 

A/N: Google searched “asshole synonyms” for this. I ain’t sorry. Not my best work, but I really wanted to write something, so please enjoy!

Word count: 1220

        “Hey, YN, thanks for the badass nail polish. It’s super manly!”

       “Of course Kirishima!”

       That ticked him off. Even his best friend had gotten his nails painted by you. The whole class was now writing, tapping, and gesturing with their painted nails however they could, and it was all thanks to your seemingly endless supply of that toxic shit. Bakugou was sick of it. 

       It all began a couple days ago, when the blond and you were hanging out in his own room.

                               ###

       “What the hell is that smell?” Your boyfriend sniffed the air with distaste, looking over from the computer he had been playing on. There you were, sitting on his bed with a bottle of polish precariously balanced on one thigh. The other leg was a makeshift surface on which you painted your nails maroon. 

       “Seriously?”

       “Seriously what?” you asked obliviously.

       “Get that nasty shit off my bed before you spill it!” he demanded, spinning around in his chair to face you. He glared at the bottle you innocently gestured at him.

       “What, this? You’re really that scared I’m gonna ruin your precious sheets with a little nail polish? C’mon Katsuki, I’m not that clumsy.” He scoffs at your obvious lie and raises a brow at you. You purse your lips and roll your eyes, giving in. “All right fine, you’re right! But I’ll be careful, I swear.” Following your plea, you throw out your best weapon imaginable: puppy dog eyes. 

       It was ineffective.

       “No, now close that shit before the stench becomes permanent.” He turns back to his computer without another word and returns to his game. 

       “Fine,” you stand up and walk over to his door, awkwardly trying to open with your elbows since your fingers weren’t exactly dry yet. “Then I’ll go do this elsewhere.”

       “Fine.”

                               ###

       Since then, you’ve been painting everyone in the class’s nails, even the guys. Just three days ago he had walked in on you adorning Deku’s hands with emerald green in the common area. Jealousy was his initial reaction, as all he could see was the small twerp’s hands near your lap as you giggled. Then it got worse to see his fingers resting on your thighs while you chatted and laughed together. 

       “YN!” Bakugou had shouted at you. You glanced up with wide eyes from your task, then recognized the look in your boyfriend’s eyes.

       “Oh calm down, Katsuki. It’s not like you were gonna let me paint your nails.” Bakugou almost exploded at your tone. “Besides, Izuku was just wondering what all the fuss was about. There’s nothing wrong with wanting pretty nails.” Those words combined with the fact that you had called that loser by his name pushed the blond over the edge. He was slowly being driven insane.

                               ###

       “Hey YN, some girls at the mall yesterday totally complimented my nails. Thanks again!” the bubbly gravity girl spouted. Bakugou’s arm tightened around your shoulder at the praise, and he snarled at the sight of disembodied hot pink nails floating into the classroom. 

       “I absolutely adore the sparkles you gave me, YN. You’re a goddess!” Aoyama praised next, twirling around and waving his hands in front of yours and Bakugou’s faces before dramatically falling into his seat. This was ridiculous. 

       Everyone, and he meant everyone in the classroom except for him had painted nails of all colors. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me,” the miserable future hero muttered as he watched Todoroki pass with red and white nails. “I’m gonna hurl.”

       He missed the smug smirk that grew on your face, and you swiftly kiss him on the cheek before separating and returning to your own desk just as the bell rang. 

       It was only a matter of time.

                               ###

       Deku stood over the bruised and beaten blond, shoving his painted hands in front of his face while laughing victoriously. “Well, well, well, looks like I finally beat you, Kacchan,” the green-haired boy boasted. Bakugou only groaned in pain on the hard asphalt of the street, unable to move as the bruises began to darken. 

       “I guess you could say it was all thanks to these,” he continued, flashing his emerald nails near Bakugou’s two black eyes. “Tell YN I’m grateful-”

       Bakugou sprang up from his bed in a cold sweat, gasping and feeling his body for any bruises, only to come up clean. “It was all a nightmare,” he groaned, ducking his head miserably into his hands. “This is fucking stupid.” And yet, why did he want to go to your room now? The pupil-burning red digits of his alarm clock told him it was too late; it was midnight. But he didn’t care. If Bakugou had one more stupid nightmare over fucking nail polish, he was going to lose it. 

                               ###

       “YN!” Who the hell? “YN, open up! Open the goddamn door, YN!” Your boyfriend. Of course. Checking your phone, you moaned at the time while slumping off your bed and onto the floor, worming your way to the entrance an enraged blond currently stood behind. 

       “Did you bring me food?” 

       “What? No-”

       “A stuffed animal?”

       “No! I-”

       “Then why in the goddamn fuck are you here at-” you whip open your door and glare into his crimson eyes, “the asscrack of dawn?” Your menacing whisper was challenged with a raised brow.

       “It’s only twelve.”

       “It’s only bedtime,” you mocked with a sneer. “What do you need?”

       “You need to paint my nails.” Oh, oh this was good. Who needed prank TV shows when you could have all this? You disguised your victorious expression by dropping your head and groaning dramatically. Sweet, sweet revenge was near, and you could almost taste that salty bitch. 

       “Fineeee. But wash your hands first.” He tried to object, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I’m not painting over your crusty-ass sleep nails.” 

       “The fuck are ‘sleep nails’?” your blondy grumbled under his breath, but nonetheless made his way over to your bathroom. Trembling excitedly after watching him walk away, you swiftly texted the class group chat you had made a week ago with great news. 

You: U guys can remove ur nail polish now. Bakugou finally gave in ;)

Kaminari: Thank GODDD, I’m done with this yellow crap on my fingers

Kirishima: Me too, but at least we’ll finally get to see Bakugou with girly nails

Mina: Man, I’m gonna miss my pink sparkles!!

You: It’ll be worth it, trust me

       You set your phone down just as Bakugou turned off the lights in your bathroom, but the buzzing of notifications continued. 

       “What asshole is texting you at midnight?”

       “Probably the same kind of knucklehead that would yell at me through my door at midnight.”

       He scoffs before flopping down onto your bed beside you. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

       “Wonderful.” Your eyes twinkle wickedly as you open your nightstand drawer, displaying a wide array of nail polishes even a rainbow would be jealous of. “So what color were you thinking?”

MY FRIENDS AND I WERE DISCUSSING AND THEY WERE LIKE "You know you'd be the perfect darling" and I was like "Excuse me?" And the reason was "Well... If they treated you right you wouldn't care about anything else... As long as your Yandere wouldn't hurt you or the people you actually care about I doubt that you'd actually try to escape" and I was like 👁️👄👁️ but I couldn't even say no cause they were right 😂 As long as I'm "Okay" I wouldn't even care that I'm kidnapped by a psycho 🤷🏻‍♀️

Agakdhjsjdks dudeeeee🤦‍♀️

Bruh I just imagine like you sitting on a couch eating Cheetos while your yandere is downstairs fucking murdering someone.

Guy dying: SOMEONE HELP ME

this anon: y’all hear sumn

Eeee I was so excited to see you pop up on my dash again!!! Welcome back, I hope you’ve been well!

Aaaaaaa it's nice to be back ur so sweet for this message tyyyyy

i hope ur well too anon, even tho this message is like 2 yrs old probably, i hope ur doing great!

Drunk Confession (Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: A very drunk Anakin has some very sober thoughts for you to hear. 

A/N: Anakin is hot, that’s all I gotta say. Enjoy!

Word count: 2128

“YNNNN!”

The wail of your name roused you from your slumber, followed by a loud crash outside your dorm. 

“Ow.”

The sun hadn’t risen outside your window, and darkness still shrouded your room aside from a small glow exuding from your alarm clock. 2:37 AM, it read. 

Who in the goddamn fuck-

“YN open up!” Loud knocks sounded outside your room, but not on your door. 

Uh oh. 

You scrambled from your bed, cursing under your breath as the night air nipped at your skin. Snagging your Jedi robe hanging from the wall near your door, you shrugged on the warmer layers and hugged them close around your body, which had only previously been clad in undergarments.

You couldn’t press the button to open the door fast enough, but by the time it had, you were too late. 

Obi-Wan stood with a brow raised in his own doorway, obviously unimpressed with the figure before him. And, clad in his usual getup of dark robes, leather boots, and tousled hair, stood Anakin Skywalker in complete disarray. His robe, already worn inside-out, slouched off one of his shoulders. Parts of his hair were knotted and tangled, matted down and stuck to his head with sweat. As he stared in utter confusion at his former master, his entire body swayed from side-to-side.

He was totally shitfaced. 

“Master?” he hiccuped. “What are you doing in YN’s room?” There was a slur to his words, one you hadn’t caught when he was shouting for the entire Jedi dorm to hear. 

Obi-Wan, shockingly impassive, drew his gaze to you, a single brow raised. You hadn’t realized your hand had come up to muffle a snicker until Anakin almost toppled over. You jumped up from your position across the hall as his body leaned too far to one side, but thankfully Obi-Wan reached out a hand to steady him before you could. 

Then Anakin smacked his hand away. “I said, what are you doing in YN’s room?” His tone was angry, filled with betrayal. His hand went to his hip, where his lightsaber was latched, and that was when Obi-Wan lost his patience. 

Staring past Anakin and at you, he nodded toward the Jedi Knight. “I believe this is yours.” With that, he retreated to his room, shaking his head and mumbling something under his breath. 

You stood with pursed lips, waiting and watching as the wheels in Anakin’s head turned, trying to comprehend Obi-Wan’s words. Finally, he turned around in utter disorientation, only to straighten up like a pleased puppy at the sight of you. 

“YN!” he shouted much louder than necessary. He reached out, making his way towards you only for the sudden movements to give him whiplash as he stumbled to the right, completely miscalculating your location as he crashed face-first into the wall beside your dorm. 

You cringed, sucking in a breath through your teeth before going to his aid. “You okay?” you asked gently, grabbing an arm and guiding him into your room. 

“Yeah,” he choked out, rubbing his nose. “That hurt.”

“I’m sure,” you cooed, rubbing up and down his arm comfortingly as you led him to a seat on your bed. “Stay here.”

“Wait,” he snapped to attention as his metal arm snagged yours, grip tight but not enough to leave a mark, “where are you going?” His eyes were wide and nervous as they danced around your face. He seemed scared you were going to disappear forever once you left right now. 

“I’m just gonna get you a glass of water,” you soothed, unlatching his hand from your wrist. His gaze fell to the action, and his grip tightened just a bit before he let go completely with a furrow of his brows. 

“But I have to tell you something.”

“I figured,” you chuckle, “but I’ll be quick.” Escaping out of your room and down the hall, you left with the feeling of Anakin’s despairing eyes still latched onto you. You slipped into the bathroom, filling the cup with tap water as you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Eyes bloodshot from being woken up, your hair a rat’s nest on the top of your head, and a small drop of drool on the corner of your mouth-ew! You yanked the cup out from under the stream where it had been overflowing and set it on the counter before scrubbing your face. The cold was a shock to your system, less-so than Anakin’s being drunk outside your room at two a.m., but still did the trick to remind you that this wasn’t a dream, and that, yes, a very drunk–yet somehow still very attractive–Anakin had been calling your name and searching for you. 

It didn’t help that you’d had a crush on him ever since you’d met as young padawans and he’d arrogantly introduced himself as the Chosen One. It really didn’t help at all. 

With a couple of smacks to your cheeks, you finally had the courage to return to your room, leaving the bathroom and immediately crashing into a solid chest. 

Anakin, you realized, glancing up for reassurance. He looked distraught, eyes wild and unfocused as he towered over you. 

You were surprised you hadn’t heard him coming, considering he was barely in a state to walk a straight line much less make it down the hall and around the corner. Well, you thought, somehow he made it back to the Jedi temple from whatever bar he came from alive, surely this wasn’t as difficult.

Until you realized his hand was stationed against the wall for support as he swayed. 

Scratch that–how the hell is he even alive?

“Anakin,” you stressed, “what are you doing? I told you to wait.” Like a lost puppy, you led him back to your room, the skin of his forearm much too hot underneath his robes. 

“You took so long, I got nervous.” And yet the only one who seemed nervous as you arrived back in your room was you. Anakin, on the other hand, locked his eyes reverently on your form as you returned him to his place on your bed, watching you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes as you handed him the glass and told him to drink, to flush out the obvious abundance of alcohol in his system. 

At your command, he downed the glass of water in seconds, swallowing and licking his lips. You forced your gaze away from the action when you realized you were staring too long afterwards. Yet, even as muddled as he was, he still noticed, still smirked like he always did. 

For so many years you figured you were hiding your crush so well, thought he was just the type of guy to smirk at everyone for such things. It wasn’t until he had gotten a padawan of his own, gotten an army of his own, that you realized the way he acted around you alone was different. 

Even as smashed as he was, he still made you feel as though you were acting the fool. Like he was teasing you–how embarrassing. 

Shame colored your face as you spun around, searching for something to do as a drunk Anakin lounged on your bed. 

“YN?”

“Hmm?” You still faced away, searching the room for anything else to do but stare at the sight on your bed. That is, until a hand latched around yours, yanking you around hard enough that you almost fell over. The force of the pull landed you straight between Anakin’s knees, his hand still on yours while the other stabled you at your hip. Your hand had instinctively gripped his shoulder, but you stole it away quickly. 

Nonetheless, he stared at you, positioned in front of him. For a minute, that’s all he did. Stare and stare, eyes locked on yours as the smirk on his face carefully transformed into a dropped jaw. He looked at you like… you didn’t really know how to describe it.

Like… like you were the one who hung the stars in the sky, who placed planets in orbit. Like you were the cause of the glow of the sun, like you shifted the tides using the moon. Like you were worth worship, worth praise, worth the doting look that took over his face.

A shiver crawled over your skin the more he looked at you; you’d barely noticed his hand had taken to slipping past your robes and connecting with the bare skin of your side, metal thumb caressing the skin. The other was still latched on your wrist like he never wanted to let go. Distantly, you wondered if it would leave a bruise. 

A heavy silence fell over the room, just you waiting in anticipation as Anakin lost his focus, face flushed with besottedness. For once, you didn’t feel like he had the upper hand over your feelings. For once, it appeared you controlled his. 

“YN.” He mumbled your name almost subconsciously, like it had slipped out without his knowing. 

“What?” Softly, carefully, you urged him for more. In response, his eyes locked on your lips, running his tongue over his own involuntarily. His face, so dazed, so infatuated, so lost, finally seemed to have come to grips with his purpose for that moment. 

“I’m in love with you.”

For a second, you felt nothing. You said nothing. No reaction, no response. Nothing. You didn’t even breathe. 

For years you’d dreamt of… well, not exactly this moment, but something akin to it. Anakin professing his feelings, appearing absolutely infatuated with you. His handsome face glowing with joy as you returned the sentiment. His hands steadily, assuredly cupping your face and guiding your lips to his. 

Like in your dreams, your chest was so trembly and shaky, so completely and utterly in disbelief that the man you’d been in love with for years was completely infatuated with you. Your hands shake and breaths escape you in pants as though you’d ran miles just moments prior. Your heart was pounding hard, trying to escape and your mind grew blankly overwhelmed. 

Anakin, having spent the last few seconds with zero response from your end, was visibly unnerved. He searched your face for any reaction, any clue into what you were feeling. Finding nothing, he looked lost, scared, and dejected. 

Long ago had he sobered up, but the alcohol was still in his system as he staggered to his feet, not largely taller than you but his overall form still being a formidable sight. You’d been forced to lift your head as he rose, following his movements. A waft of alcohol infiltrated your nose. 

The hand previously on your side rose to your face, cupping your rosy cheek. A cold thumb caressed your cheekbone for just a moment as he took in your face as though for the last time. Then he shook his head in what you could only interpret as anguish. “I’m in love with you,” he repeated, this time less shy. “For so many years, I have been. And I thought you felt the same, but I see now that I am wrong.” 

You open your mouth to question him, but he continues. “I’m sorry for bothering you tonight.” A sad, forced smile encompasses his face. “Let’s forget this ever happened. Goodnight, YN.”

Your chest grew filled with guilt and regret and pity for making him think this way. And when his hand moved to drop from your face, you drew up your own to prevent it. Your face, you were sure, was filled with too many emotions to interpret–confusion, for doubt that this was real; joy, for happiness that the man you loved returned your feelings; amazement, for sheer question of how you had come to be this lucky. 

But a flicker of hope struck his eyes at your action, and so he stayed put, waiting dutifully for your response. 

Like your dreams, his lips were soft. Like your dreams, he eagerly responded, pulled you in, close and tight, like he would never let you go; he swore himself to you, would do anything for you, would follow you anywhere. 

Like your dreams, you worried for the Jedi Council’s discovery of your love, and Anakin kissed your worries away. 

Just leave it to me, he said the next morning, his arms tight around your form, his ruffled hair glowing like a halo in the morning sun. His bare skin was hot against yours. I’ll handle it. We can be together, and they won’t be able to stop us. 

Like your dreams, you trusted him.