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micasaessakusa · 4 months ago

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WHAT. A. FUCKIN. READ.

THAT WAS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK!!!!!!!!!!! WHEN I TELL U I BAWLED CRIED SOBBED BECAUSE OF THIS. AND AT 9 IN THE MORNING TOO!!!! Good morning to me!! That was so good, I don’t even have the words!!!! TOP TIER ANGST!!!!!!!!! I LOOOIOVE IT

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐑. (second part to 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑.)

in the battle of hearts, he was the conqueror, and you, the conquered, for his love was a war you could never win. but if in this ruthless battlefield, only one can come out victorious, could you still turn things around and let the victor be you?

♱ pairings. sylus, fem!reader

♱ genre. angst, smut, boss/assistant, 18+

♱ tags. villain!reader, reader previously works for onychinus, reader is not l&ds!mc, sylus is a little ooc, main story spoilers, melodic weave spoilers, lots of timeskip, fast-paced, lore heavy, unrequited love, profanity, petnames (kitten, sweetie), explicit smut, cunnilingus (f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, espionage, reader smoking, reckless driving, violence, spitting, choking, jealousy, usage of guns, suicide (or attempts thereof), death, and a twist in the end i can’t reveal.

♱ notes. 10.4k words too lazy to edit T-T also, there’s a scene that will remind you of nwh :))) part 1 is already fine as is, so this one is just an extra.

— 1 YEAR AFTER.

“Got an invitation?”

Only barely did you lift your head up, just enough to meet the bouncer’s eyes as you handed over the invitation. “I’m a regular.”

“Lady, I don’t think so.” The man scrutinized you with itching suspicion, then turned on his flashlight to verify the authenticity of your invitation by looking at every corner of the paper. Was he trying to look for any flaw just to say it was fake? Jesus. For an entire minute, his eyes darted between you and the letter, as though debating whether or not to let you inside.

“Come on,” you said impatiently, tapping your feet on the ground, “I’m not someone you should keep waiting.”

He was ready with a rebuttal, still reluctant to let you in, until a familiar sight of purple hair peeked from behind the entrance. Your savior for the night—it was Rafayel.

“Let her in,” he said, ushering you inside and giving the bouncer a knowing look. “She’s with me.”

Fucking finally.

The neon red LED signage of The Nest flickered against the grimy walls, serving as the only bright light in the sketchy dark surroundings. The bar was a haven for those seeking refuge from the law and a place to trade secrets, as it was brimming with intel from a network of people. From high ranking officials, businessmen, and criminals—just offer your part of the bargain and you’d find a good trade in no time.

It wasn’t your first time there, but your negative impression of the place remained unchanged.

You strode through the crowd with Rafayel, and your eyes scanned the room with practiced ease. There were still familiar faces around, though most of the people had gone unrecognized as it had been awhile since you last came here.

“Wearing a hoodie in a place like this,” Rafayel spoke into your ear, his voice barely audible over the loud music. “You stick out like a sore thumb, you know?”

You merely shrugged, keeping your face hidden under the large black hoodie until Rafayel secured you inside a private balcony he had reserved for the night. Once inside, you quickly pulled the hoodie down and comfortably revealed your face.

“Just give me what I asked you so I can leave,” you commanded, your tone assertive.

Rafayel, however, only smirked as he sat on the couch across from you. “Be patient. We’re still missing one person.”

One person? “Who—” Your attention was caught by the figure of a lean, white-haired man entering the private balcony in a calm and quiet manner. A person so familiar to you that you couldn’t even keep eye contact with him. Xavier.

Xavier might be civil around you, but you knew that if the circumstances were different, he would have let Lumiere show up to assassinate you in one strike. It didn’t matter if you were colleagues before, he still always had his guard around you. Though, things had become more complicated for everyone. And friends who had become enemies, were now allies again.

Somehow.

“Well, isn’t this a delightful gathering? I have two wanted individuals in the N109 Zone here with me,” you quipped, pointing to Rafayel first. “You’ve got a bounty on your head,” then to Xavier, “You’ve got a bounty on your head, too. Damn, I’d be rich if I turned you both in.”

Xavier stayed leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “That makes three of us, then,” he replied in a stolid mien, nodding toward the wall behind you.

Your eyes adjusted from the dark before it finally landed on a large, tattered poster pinned to the wall near the bar. The bold letters at the top read the following:

MOST WANTED! Y/N L/N Alias: Scarlet Viper Reward: 5,000,000 Credits Crimes: Betrayal of Onychinus Espionage Intelligence Leaks Treason Status: Traitor Last Known Location: N109 Zone, Linkon City Beware: Y/N L/N is considered extremely dangerous and cunning. She is highly skilled in espionage and intelligence gathering, and is now a traitor to Onychinus. Approach with extreme caution. All bounty hunters and loyal Onychinus followers are authorized to apprehend her by any means necessary. Payment will be made upon successful capture or confirmation of her whereabouts. Contact: Report all sightings and information to the Onychinus base. Payment is guaranteed for verified leads.

The grainy image was unmistakable—it was your own face in that poster staring back at you. But instead of acting hurt or even alarmed, a laugh bubbled up from deep within you, growing louder and more unhinged as you took in the sight. Heads turned from outside the private room, curious and wary, as your laughter echoed through the balcony.

“Crazy bastard,” you muttered to yourself between fits of laughter. “Sylus really went all out this time, huh?”

Preferably Alive? You mused at the highlighted words on the poster. Did he want me alive so he’d be the one to kill me?

The absurdity of it all washed over you. Here you were, once Sylus’s most trusted confidante, now branded a traitor with a bounty on your head. Even Luke and Kieran wouldn’t spare you. In fact, they might even be the first ones to capture you had they received the slightest intel on your whereabouts. Ha ha ha! Your maniacal laughter was a cocktail of bitterness, amusement, and the thrill of the rebellion that had driven you to this point. The very people you treated like family, were now your enemies.

You composed yourself, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye as you glanced around. The patrons were still watching—Xavier with concern for your sanity, and Rafayel with amusement to your charade.

“Not what you expected from your ‘lover’?” mocked Rafayel, shifting into a more comfortable position.

But you were ready with a confident reply. “Oh, I expected just as much. It’s flattering, really, that he hasn’t found me despite all his connections.”

Xavier adopted a more serious tone when he added, “He hasn’t been seen anywhere himself. It’s been months since the raid happened, and the Onychinus faction is still leaderless.”

“Sylus isn’t that pathetic,” you replied, pulling a pack of cigarettes from your pocket. You lit one up with a flick of your lighter, and the flame briefly illuminated your face. “He’s just laying low. He’s got plenty of properties to hide in, but the H.A. will need to pay me extra if they want intel on his locations.”

Rafayel smirked. “Oh, come on now, we know you won’t give up his hideouts that easily. You still care about his safety after all. Right, Miss Scarlet?”

You displayed a defensive stance as referred to you by your alias. “I care about whether or not that hunter girl you’re all obsessed with stopped chasing after him,” you said, irritation now lacing your once-sarcastic tone. “A deal’s a deal. Keep her out of the N109 Zone and away from Sylus, and I’ll keep my hands off her. Otherwise, I’ll be happy to send a bullet or two to her head.”

“You—” “Don’t even try—”

Both boys sprang from their seats and yelled simultaneously, as if your vague threat against the apple of their eyes activated their mode of defensiveness. In all honesty, you admired how much they cared to protect that girl. That despite their rivalry, they were willing to do anything to keep her safe. You were the biggest threat to her life right now, but eliminating you wasn’t exactly an easy feat now that the H.A. had your back.

So, this was their compromise. A mutually beneficial arrangement. In simpler terms, they need to keep the girl away from Sylus. Giving intel about Onychinus and its boss was already your part of the bargain. Theirs was to ensure that the hunter girl had no means to contact Sylus or even enter N109 Zone whenever she wanted.

“Hand out her brooch,” you demanded, gesturing for Rafayel to hand out the very piece you were here for. “It’s about time I come home.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened in curiosity. “You’re really returning to the N109 Zone?”

Xavier’s face mirrored his concern, likely because you carried the largest bounty of all the wanted fugitives in the most dangerous No-Hunt Zone. But honestly, their unease puzzled you. If they wanted to keep the girl safe, having you out of Linkon City would be to their advantage. Besides, the brooch would give you unrestricted access to the N109 Zone—something you wanted to take from the hunter girl who generously received it from Sylus.

“Stop stalling and give it to me,” you insisted, your frustration growing by the second. “I’m sick of this place.”

Rafayel sighed and tossed the brooch to you. “You must be crazy.”

— 1 YEAR AGO.

“You’ve already taken everything from me, Sylus. Finish what you started.”

Sylus had the power to end you right then and there. If he truly intended to kill you to protect that woman, all he needed was to intensify the pressure of his evol around you. Yet, as he observed the shifting expressions on your face, Sylus chose to ease the bone-crushing pressure of the black-red mist that encircled your body.

You collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath like fish out of the sea. But Sylus looked down at you with a cold, unyielding gaze. “I’m just showing you mercy now,” he said, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “If you dare touch her, I’ll break every bone in your body for real next time. You’re just gonna be another dead body to me.”

With that final threat, Sylus kicked your gun away and vanished into the dead of night, leaving you alone and vulnerable in the dark alleyway. Even Mephisto, who often guarded your safety, was completely out of sight. Sylus must be happy knowing that his last words pierced through your soul—its pain gnawing at your heart and ripping every artery apart. How easily was it for him to tear you asunder despite giving you his mercy? The turmoil inside you was almost unbearable, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Ultimately, you chose both.

Sitting on the gravel, you clenched your fists, tears mingling with the dirt on the concrete. Anger, spite, and hatred consumed you. All you wanted was revenge.

And so, a few weeks after that, you decided to pack your bags and run away from the N109 Zone. Away from the place where Sylus was the boss of everyone. Away from a place where his omnipresence would not reach or track you.

Your destination of choice was Linkon, not because you wanted to live in that city, but because it was once your home. Returning to the bustling metropolis after four years was driven by a single purpose, and it was to see a few key people who could help you achieve your revenge.

The bright and busy streets of Linkon City were still a stark contrast to the dark and gritty atmosphere of the N109 Zone. But because you had lived most of your years here than its more dangerous counterpart, it was easy for you to maneuver through the fast-moving crowd while navigating through the complicated subway stations that even Luke and Kieran would struggle with. That day, your mind was set on your first destination: Akso Hospital.

Dr. Zayne’s clinic was tucked away in a quiet corner of the hospital. While it took some finesse to secure an appointment under a false name, you managed it without raising suspicion. After all, four years in the N109 Zone had taught you how to camouflage into roles you never expected to play.

Obviously, he was surprised to see you entering his clinic as if he had seen a ghost. His usual stoic countenance was momentarily replaced by a state of discombobulation when you finally sat across from him in his sterile, white office. “Zayne,” you cut straight to the chase. “I need to know about the girl with the Aether Core.”

Four years ago, Zayne was the last person you talked to about the Aether Core before plunging into the dangers of the N109 Zone. He knew more about it than anyone else in Linkon. Therefore, he would also be the first person you sought out upon your return.

Dr. Zayne’s expression remained impassive, however. “I’m afraid patient confidentiality prevents me from discussing any details.”

You leaned forward, your voice low and urgent, as you pressed a hand against his desk. “I’m not here for pleasantries, Zayne. I need answers. How and where does she have it?”

You had to know. You really, badly ought to know. Because knowing where she had the Aether Core would acquaint you where exactly to target her when the opportunity arises.

But in spite of the desperation in your voice, Dr. Zayne regarded you with a cool, clinical detachment. “Whatever you’re planning, I would prefer that you don’t involve an innocent person in it. If you want answers, seek it somewhere else.”

Dammit! His actions and strange avoidance of the subject were all the hints you needed. Zayne liked that girl. And he would never be the person to put her in a dangerous position.

In that case, there was only one place left to turn, a place you had avoided for far too long. It even took you three days to gather the confidence you needed to even step foot into the familiar halls of The Hunter's Association’s most secretive department, the Hunter Intelligence Services or the HIS—the very place where undercover agents and intelligence officers resided. It was hidden beneath the city and only the high ranking hunters knew and had access to it, because being a spy certainly wasn’t for the weak heart.

It was time to confront your true past.

The entryway to the headquarters didn’t change. And to your surprise, pulling out your access card still granted you entrance to the quarters. Were they anticipating your return or did they simply miss the task of revoking your access card?

Descending further into the underground facility, however, you were met with a familiar sense of unease. The sterile, metal hallways seemed to close in around you as you approached Lauryn’s office. She was the head of the department, your true boss, and the person who tasked you into infiltrating the N109 Zone four years ago.

Lauryn was there as you entered, her sharp eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms at you. You were right. She did anticipate your arrival, because the advanced CCTV monitors around the city were displayed all over the room. “What brings you back to the fold?” she asked, stern and unwelcoming, “Are you going to beg on my knees for turning your back against the Hunter’s Association?”

Feisty as ever. Her austerity was harsher than you remembered, but then again, there was no room for shame after all the crimes you committed while supposedly being a spy in the N109 Zone.

“I need your help,” you admitted, shamelessly. “I have intel on Sylus and the Onychinus. Extremely valuable information that you need. In exchange, there’s something I want you to do.”

Lauryn’s expression was unreadable as she leaned back against the wall. “So, you’ve decided to turn on your beloved Sylus? What happened to your loyalty? Is it always this unstable?”

You took a deep breath, not allowing her words to get to you. “I just… need to protect my interests.”

“Interests?” The woman guffawed at your chosen words. “And do your interests also include betraying the H.A. because you fell in love with the enemy? Or did the enemy also betray you that’s why you’re crawling back here now?”

She hit the sore spot, but you masked your voice with defensive indifference. “If that’s how you define it, then so be it. I’m not asking to be recruited by the H.A. again, I know that. I broke the Hunter’s Code and I’m marked as a Tenebra now, but…” Letting out a heavy exhale, you looked into her eyes, “Lauryn, you know I have the most intel you’ll get about Sylus and Onychinus out of everyone. Not even Xavier as Lumiere would have this much intel as I do.”

How could she deny such an offer? You knew the temptation was heavy since you were speaking the truth; you worked for Sylus for four years. You have all the necessary intel they need to even get to him.

For a millisecond, you caught the corner of Lauryn’s lips twitching upwards with a glint of approval hiding in her eyes, but she was pretty good at concealing her emotions. “Very well. Share your intel, and I’ll see what I can do.”

The past year had been a blur of longing and subterfuge.

You supplied Lauryn with detailed intelligence on Onychinus’s illicit activities, including their smuggling routes, black market transactions, and the clandestine trade of armory and protocores with corrupt officials. You also exposed Sylus’s personal connections to the high ranking officials who were secretly doing business with him. This information immediately set off a series of events aimed at destabilizing Onychinus, providing sufficient evidence to provoke a significant response from the Hunter’s Association and law enforcement.

In return, you requested two things: 1) for the Hunter’s Association to offer you protection and support against Onychinus’s threats; and 2) for them to enforce restrictions and surveillance on the hunter girl, ensuring she remained completely isolated from Sylus and the N109 Zone.

It would have been better if they had chastised her. You had convinced Lauryn that a public whipping would be the perfect punishment, but the H.A. upheld principles far better than yours. After all, you had been stripped of your morality after living in a lawless environment under the influence of the mastermind himself. Being in the N109 Zone for too long dehumanized you. But for your peers in Linkon… they could never harm that hunter girl for some reason, and had been treating her like a valuable asset under everyone's protection—even Sylus’s.

You hated it. You hated her. And each time you caught a glimpse of her around Linkon, your hands were often itching to take out a gun and end her life.

But that was easier said than done. Besides, you decided to harness all of your anger towards Sylus himself because he was the one who had tossed you aside after she came to his life. He was the one responsible for the wounds in your heart that would never heal.

It had been a year. You wondered if he ever even thought about you, or did his anger completely consume him to the point where all he wanted to do was kill you?

“Of course,” you mumbled under your breath, scoffing as you remembered the bounty he had placed on you. He was definitely apoplectic at the fact that you ruined his plans, and that you took his precious hunter girl away from him. The thought of you betraying him and Onychinus probably made him ballistic.

But to think about it, who betrayed who first?

Everyone knew the difficulty of getting into the N109 Zone. Keeping yourself safe while inside the lawless city was also another struggle. Yet, for someone like you who belonged here better than in Linkon, you were already used to the ins and outs of its dangerous scene. And having the hunter girl’s brooch was your gateway to return to the city unsuspiciously.

Pushing through the throng of people, you made your way to a nondescript door at the back of the bar. Two burly guards stood in front, their expressions deadpan as they eyed the beaked mask you were wearing. You wore the Onychinus uniform, one that was similar to Luke and Kieran’s, in order to hide your identity. For now.

“Is it a man?”

“No, a woman! Look at her body behind the uniform.”

“You think we should let her in?”

“Idiot, she’s from Onychinus! You can’t deny her entrance.”

With a nod, you handed over a small token—your entry pass to the underground fight club that operated in the depths of an abandoned warehouse. “Fellas, I have a pass if you need it.”

The guards stepped aside, finally allowing you entry after you showed a token that was marked by the Onychinus insignia. And as you descended the dimly lit staircase, the roar of the crowd and the unmistakable sound of fists meeting flesh grew louder. The anticipation began to thrum in your veins.

You weren’t entirely sure why you were here, but you knew you needed information on Sylus. Anywhere. And what better way to hear about him than to visit a place where his presence often loomed large? Maybe you could even take out your frustrations in the ring tonight. With every punch and kick, you would remind yourself of the path you had chosen—a path leading to Sylus’s downfall, no matter the cost.

As you stepped into the arena, an irregular thumping in your heart began to destabilize you. You forced yourself to focus, squeezing between people loudly cheering for the current match, screaming their biases, and trash-talking the opponents. Clusters of people gathered around the ring and placed their bets on their favorite fighters. How nostalgic, you mused. You used to come here with Sylus on Friday nights. And turned the rest of those active nights into passionate ones.

Now’s not the time to reminisce. Your chest was starting to feel tighter, unsure if it was because of the crowd or the uncomfortable thought of being back in the N109 Zone. But the more time you spent inside the fight club, the more your heart felt like it was being squeezed. You had to make a move now before it was too late.

The fight club continued to throb with a visceral energy, and you stood in the shadows, the hood of your cloak still pulled low to hide the overwhelming pressure you were feeling inside your body. You managed to weave through the people, while your ears were attuned to the murmur of conversations in hopes of catching intel on Sylus.

That was, until a group of grizzled men to your left caught your attention, and their voices were rising above the din.

“I’ve got five hundred credits on the big guy,” one of them boasted, slapping a hefty stack of bills into the hand of a bookie.

“You’re gonna lose,” another jeered. “That scrawny kid’s faster. I bet he’ll surprise everyone.”

You lingered nearby, pretending to adjust your hoodie while listening intently to their conversation.

“Hey, did you hear about Sylus?” one man whispered, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

Your pulse quickened at the mention of his name, and you took a step closer, careful not to draw attention.

“Yeah. He hasn’t been seen in weeks, ain’t he? Word is, he’s gone underground. Something big must’ve gone down.”

“Big? That’s an understatement. They say someone ratted him out to the Hunter’s Association that’s why his base got raided. He’s also got a bounty on his head now, and not just any bounty—a serious one. Every hunter and merc in the zone's looking for him.”

“What about the hot chick he’s been seen with? You think she’s involved?”

“Dunno,” the first man whispered. “But if she’s smart, she’ll lay low. Sylus doesn’t take kindly to betrayal, and neither do his people.”

You bit your lip as the urge to ask questions was getting heavy. But you knew better. Drawing attention to yourself now could be disastrous. So, you had to think of how to navigate this situation first. The fight in the ring reached a fever pitch, and the crowd’s roar swelled. Perhaps joining today’s fight might not be a good idea after all, and instead, you should harness your remaining energy into preparing for the time you would have to face Onychinus again.

Sylus was in hiding, the hunter girl had been isolated, and you had made yourself a target.

It was for the best that you stormed out of the fight club, helmet on, speeding away on a motorcycle you had rented. Riding in the N109 zone was always a thrilling escape, and it now became your dangerous distraction from the turbulent thoughts that plagued your mind. Sylus. Sylus. Sylus. Where did he hide?

In your trail of thoughts, you revved the engine, and its roar echoed along the stretch of dark roads as you maneuvered your bike towards the highway.

There was no other vehicle around you.

Until a truck appeared.

Not just any truck—it was a supertruck, with its headlights blazing and tailing you like a predator.

The lights tried to blind you, but you took off, and the world around you instantly became a blur of speed and sound. You leaned into the bike, feeling the wind whip against your face as you cornered into the nearest exit. But no matter how fast you went, you couldn’t outrun such a large, fast-moving vehicle. You knew that if you didn’t accelerate into sixth gear or until you hit the rev limiter, you would be dead.

He’s fucking out for me!

Lost in thought, your eyes focused too much on looking back and forth between the road and the stealth mirrors before you got rear-ended by the truck. The impact was jarring, and it sent you flying off your bike and crashing onto the hard, cold ground. Upon impact alone, pain immediately exploded in your body. And the burning, stinging sensation was brought upon by the road rash you obtained after you skidded along the rough concrete road. It was intense pain—like a thousand searing needles piercing every inch of your skin. Your flesh felt as if it were being flayed by red-hot knives, each scrape and cut screaming with a fire that seemed unquenchable. The raw, exposed nerves throbbed violently, sending electric shocks of pain through your entire body, and making every heartbeat feel like a hammer blow.

Aghh! It was a relentless, burning torment, and the slightest movement amplified the suffering, every breath dragging razors through your shredded skin. But you refused to cry out, refusing to give the culprit the satisfaction. Was it Sylus?

As much as you wanted to lift your helmet and find the culprit, the shock from the crash was an all-consuming inferno of agony, the kind that made the world blur and darken at the edges, and eventually pulled you into a black abyss of unconsciousness.

The last thing you remembered was being carried in the arms of a man.

“Think she’s in a coma?”

Voices filtered through your ears, distant yet distinct. Familiar, mischievous voices that sent a shiver down your spine. You could barely open your eyes, your fingers twitching as you slowly regained consciousness.

“Maybe.” That was Luke’s voice. “Or maybe she’s just pretending. Wouldn’t put it past her after she spied on us for years.”

“Yeah, she’s good at that,” Kieran egged on. “Always scheming, always one step ahead. And she’s tougher than she looks! Surviving that crash?”

“But not invincible.”

Their exchange suddenly took a halt, replaced by a discomfiting silence that made you wish you could force your eyes open in a mere count to ten. You tried to move, to make a sound, to let them know you were not in a coma, that you could hear every word. But your body remained stubbornly still, as if pressed down by an unseen weight.

“You think boss-man will forgive her?” It was Kieran who asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

Luke snorted. “Forgive? She’s a traitor. If she wakes up, she’s a dead woman walking.”

No! Upon realizing that this wasn’t a dream or a figment of your imagination, the beat of your heart began to accelerate, vibrating loud and aggressive against your chest. The sound of the twins’ footsteps eventually faded, leaving you alone in the oppressive silence of your half-conscious state. Fear and regret coiled within you, but there was also a flicker of determination.

That if you wake up—when you wake up—you would have to face Sylus. And you would have to find a way to survive.

Time lost its meaning as you floated between wakefulness and sleep. A minute, an hour, days must have gone by. Eventually, you could hear classical music being played in the background and became aware of a new presence in the room, then a weight on the edge of your bed. That familiar cardamom and leather scent. A hand soon brushed your forehead, cool and gentle. Sylus? You wanted to open your eyes, to see him, to speak, but your body refused to obey.

“You can’t hide from me forever,” his voice murmured. His breath was warm when you felt it on your ear. “Wake up, kitten. We have unfinished business.”

Darkness tugged at you again, pulling you under, but not before the fear took root. The weight on your chest suddenly lifted, as if an invisible force released its hold on you. Your eyes then snapped open and your lungs burned as you dragged in deep, desperate gulps of air.

“Where—” You struggled to sit up with your weak body trembling from days of enforced stillness. Every movement felt foreign, muscles protesting as you pushed yourself upright. The room spinned for a moment before your vision cleared, and you saw him.

“Awake?” Sylus stood at your side, his crimson eyes burning with fire as he looked down on you like a master to his subject.

“What… what did you do to me?” you manage to ask even though your voice was hoarse. “It was y-you in that truck!”

“Oh, honey. I don’t ride in cheap trucks. Besides, I saved you from that crash,” Sylus replied, almost nonchalantly. “A ‘thank you’ would be nice. And also a ‘long time no see’, don’t you think?”

If it wasn’t him on that truck, then… “It’s still a hitman you hired because of that bounty!”

Sylus didn’t change. His silky gray hair, his vivid carmine eyes, his pinkish thin lips. Whenever he smirked, it was still the handsome old him. “I won’t deny that, sweetie. But I had to kill the guy for doing a poor job. My instructions were to not get you badly injured, and only to scare you.”

“Liar,” you spat, “I bet you’d be happier if I was incapacitated.”

“Please. You’d serve no good to me if you’re dead or permanently disabled.” Sylus reached down to pull the duvet away from your body, and your supposed road rash and injuries were seemingly gone, replaced by newly-healed scars. “Your body needed time to recover, and I couldn’t afford to lose you. Not yet. So I had to put you in an induced state.”

His words sent a chill down your spine. How he did it, you had no idea, but with Sylus, anything was possible. Anything! After all, he had all the connections and the rarest protocores.

“Three days,” he continued, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving your face as he lifted your chin with his finger. “I kept you under for three days. Enough time for your wounds to heal. You recognize where you are?”

When he trailed off, you looked around the room and realized you weren’t in the Onychinus base nor his presidential suite. It was one of his many residences—the underground shelter.

“Why are we here?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound strong.

Sylus extended a hand once more, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but his eyes remained hard, unreadable. “Ask that to yourself, kitten,” he says quietly. “We’re here because an ungrateful stray cat decided to leak the location of my other residences.”

You swallowed hard when you felt him grab you by the neck, his tight grip restraining any air from entering your windpipe. “S-Sylus!”

His eyes had unruly flames beneath them. “You were a spy?”

As his grip loosened a little to let you speak, you still ended up choking from asphyxiation. “S-So what if I was?” You tried to push him off. “It only means I caught you lacking. You allowed me to infiltrate Onychinus without knowing my background.”

Sylus’s hand trailed gently over your cheek, his touch lingering longer than necessary. “I’d blame it on your cunning face,” he said, almost seductively. He then shifted to lower himself onto the bed, both knees on either side of you, pinning you down. His eyes locked onto yours with a dark, predatory gleam. “Any man is a willing fool to a pretty face and a sexy body.”

You swatted his hand in response, your back hitting the headboard as you scrambled for distance. “How many times have you recycled that line between me and that hunter girl with the Aether Core?”

At the mention of her, Sylus’s deep chuckle erupted and reverberated through the dark room. It was a chilling sound that was full of twisted amusement. “Ah, I almost forgot about the root of your betrayal,” he remarked with a mocking grin. “Jealousy.”

“You wouldn’t be laughing if I had killed her,” you spat, struggling to break free as Sylus slammed you back onto the bed. “Let me go—!” It was a fierce contest of strength, with you pinned beneath him, and him on top of you in an undeniable display of dominance. But you fought back. You resisted. And in an effort to offend, you ejected spit onto his cheek. “Let go!”

Sylus was caught off guard, but he stayed unfazed, wiping your spit from his cheek before gripping your neck again. “You really want to play this game, honey? I love how sick in the head you are.”

“You m-made me like this.” You choked in between words. “In the end, I still achieved my goal. Now you have no way to see or contact that girl.”

“Says who?” Sylus’s sarcastic tone made your heart sink. Is he still in touch with her?!

“What do you—”

“Don’t be dense, kitten.” Sylus soon grabbed you by the collar, handling you like a ragdoll as he threw you onto the floor with a resounding thud. Pain shot through your hip, but Sylus’s expression held no remorse. You knew he could do worse. “I have my own ways of ensuring she’s safe and protected. I can still see her whenever I want.”

That was when the tears started to fall uncontrollably. You couldn’t stop them—nor could you hold back the words that poured out. “Y-You! I ran away from the N109 Zone for a whole year. I disappeared from your life for a whole goddamn year, Sylus. Yet not once did you look for me, not once did you worry about me, not once did you make sure I was safe. But for her, you—”

“It’s only natural to protect someone important to you.” He crouched down to meet your eyes as if pouring salt to the wound. “I’d let the world burn for her, honey. You and her aren’t the same. She’s not someone who would betray me.”

“I betrayed you because of her!”

His laughter died down, but the amusement in his eyes only deepened. The cruel curve of his lips was the kind of smile that enjoyed seeing your agony. “It’s always been about her, hasn’t it? You see me with her, and you can’t stand it. It eats at you, makes you act out.”

You tried to move away, but he kept his foot firmly on your wrist, stepping on your hand was his constant reminder of your powerlessness. The distance between you was a stark symbol of how he saw you—a mere object of disdain.

“I’ve seen your struggle,” he continued, his voice soft but laced with wicked satisfaction. “The way you watched me with her, the way it gnaws at you. It’s almost poetic, really.”

In a moment of desperation, you snatched the nearest weapon from his nightstand while tears blurred your vision. It hurt. His words, his treatment, and the stark difference in how he treated her compared to you were too much. You should have ended this long ago before he had the chance to wreck you all over again.

And so, with a gun in your hand, you cocked and raised it.

But instead of pointing it towards Sylus, you surprised him by pointing it to yourself.

The gun’s nozzle was pressed against your temple, your finger inching toward the trigger.

“...All I wanted was your love,” you choked out with tears cascading down your face, flowing out like an endless waterfall, “I j-just wanted you to love me. I turned my back on the H.A. for you. I left all my friends and family for you.” Your breathing was still for a moment. “Now I don’t have anyone left.” Pausing, you locked eyes with his crimson ones. You didn’t want him to be the one to kill you, because the thought alone was fatal. “All I had was you. I loved you. I devoted all my body and soul into loving you, Sylus. Why c-can’t I have even a little bit in return?”

Even as his gaze softened, as a flicker of regret crossed his features, you already drove your finger to pull the trigger. The recoil immediately jolted through your wrist, but before the bullet could find its mark and penetrate your skull, Sylus’s hand shot out and expertly deflected your aim. So instead of blowing your brains out, the bullet ricocheted off the now-shattered window.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Sylus roared, his orotund voice an amalgam of anger and disbelief.

Tears blurred your vision, but you were still able to look at his bright red eyes as he cupped your cheeks. Your entire body shook hysterically for someone who had just almost ended her own life. This is what he wanted, right? You asked yourself over and over, but couldn’t find the energy to respond to his calls for your name.

“Y/N,” Sylus agitatedly tried to shake you, “Y/N! Enough. Let’s end this game.”

You stared at his face blankly as reality flickered and faded, like an old film reel skipping frames. “I was never playing one with you.”

Sylus was suddenly a different person in front of you. “I warned you many times before to never fall in love with me. It’s for the best, and it’s what will keep you safe,” he spoke in a low yet softened tone, “Why don’t you listen?”

The tension in the room was suffocating, and each second dragged into eternity. Sylus’s question remained unanswered until the loud burst of the door shattered the silence. You flinched, heart pounding, as you saw the very subject of your heartbreak.

The hunter girl stormed in, eyes wild in fear. “Sylus! Are you okay? I heard a gunshot—” she cried out, scanning the room frantically until her gaze landed on the two of you. She then froze, taking in the sight of you and Sylus on the floor, the gun lying ominously near your hand. Putting two-and-two together probably made her think that you tried to kill the man in front of you. “Sylus, step back!”

“Wait!”

Without hesitation, she aimed her gun squarely at you. But right before you could react, the gun was fired. And the shattering sound of another gunshot echoed in the room.

Time seemed to slow as you fell, the world spinning around you when you felt a sudden, searing pain on your head. Sylus’s eyes widened in shock, his hand reaching out just in time to catch you before your head hit the floor.

“No!” Sylus’s voice was raw, hysterical, filled with a pain you’d never heard from him before as he cradled your head gently—his face a mask of both horror and disbelief when your blood pooled on his arms. “Y/N, no! Fuck, what did you do?!”

You struggled to focus, your vision blurring as darkness encroached. Sylus’s eyes were strangely wet with tears, desperation etched into every line of his sharp features. The Sylus you knew wouldn’t cry over someone unimportant to him. So, why…?

You tried to speak, but the effort was monumental.

Who knew that your life would end at the hands of another woman?

Yet, it was the karma you deserved for your wrongdoings.

“I... love... you,” you whispered to Sylus, nonetheless. Each word was a struggle, and your breath hitched as you forced them out, but you had to let him know. For the last time.

You saw the pain in his eyes deepen, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of something close to peace. That was when Sylus’s grip tightened, his tears falling onto your face as he held you close. “Y/N, please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave. I can’t let this happen!”

He must have noticed how your eyes were glassy and unfocused, staring off into the distance without really seeing anything. Pure numbness was you would best describe it. And as your life slipped away, you felt a strange sense of relief.

In the battle of hearts, he was the conqueror, and you, the conquered. His love was a war you couldn’t win, and your loss, a defeat you couldn’t bear. For in his eyes, you saw both your greatest triumph and your deepest fall, where the lines between the victor and the vanquished blurred into the shadows of a bittersweet end.

But at least, you had said what mattered most, and that in your final moments, you were held by the one person you loved. The rightful owner of your heart. The conqueror of your soul. It was him, Sylus Qin, and no one else.

— 1 YEAR AFTER.

“Two black coffees, three espressos, and a caramel macchiato, extra caramel!” A peculiar guy placed orders one after another, followed by his twin’s mischievous laughter.

You turned to face them, offering a polite smile even though you were worried deep inside if they were just pulling a prank. They were regulars, always coming in with their complicated orders and playful banter. Yet, something about them seemed oddly familiar, and they always gave you a nagging sensation you couldn’t quite place.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small café you were working at in the Bloomshore District. You were standing behind the counter while the rush of customers was relentless. You barely even had a moment to catch your breath today, and here came the twins creating yet another one of their complicated orders.

“Coming right up,” was your monotonous reply, your hands deftly moving to prepare their drinks. But as you worked, the twins exchanged amused glances, their eyes flicking over you with a mix of curiosity and disappointment.

“Actually, can I make a small change to that?” the other twin interjected with a grin.

You sighed inwardly but kept your smile. “Sure, what would you like?”

“Okay, so for the black coffee, can you add a splash of almond milk, two pumps of hazelnut syrup, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top?” one of the twins began. “For the espressos, I need one with a shot of vanilla, one with a shot of caramel, and the last one with a double shot of mint. And for the caramel macchiato, make sure it's extra caramel, but can you also add a dash of sea salt and a drizzle of dark chocolate on top?”

Gosh. They were menaces.

“Do you think you can remember our orders?” the other twin remarked, leaning on the counter. “Because you don’t seem to remember our names.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “We have lots of customers everyday. I’m not really good with names.”

When the bell above the door chimed, your attention was immediately drawn to the towering man with ash gray hair and bright crimson eyes. His presence was commanding even in the relaxed atmosphere of the café; he carried such a dominant aura that even the twins backed off from pestering you the moment he entered the coffee shop.

“Good evening, Mr. Skye,” you greeted, your tone warming at the sight of him. The man had become a regular fixture in your life. Every day, like clockwork, he came in for his coffee, and every day, he lingered just a bit longer, watching you with eyes that seemed to see more than you could comprehend.

He nodded, his eyes staying on you while he was pointing towards the twins. “Are they bothering you?”

You were under the impression that the twins worked for Mr. Skye, but the type of relationship they had with their boss was none of your business. That was why although the twins could get really annoying as customers, especially when they tend to change their orders a lot, you still didn’t want them to get in trouble over something as little as that.

“No, they’re fine,” you answered with a smile. “Are you going to get the usual today, Mr. Skye?”

“Yes, please.” The tall man studied your face with a focused gaze—it was as though he was trying to read your mind, trying to interpret the emotions on your face, as he looked at you intently. He always did this. Every single day he came in, even from afar, you had grown accustomed to his watchful gaze. Yet even with the awkwardness it brought, he also knew how to keep his distance. He always treated you with respect and was always the first person to come to your aid when things did get unruly in the cafe. Broken coffee machine, spilled coffee, entitled customers. Name it, and he was always present to help around.

It was strange. Really, really strange. And what’s even stranger was that, every time he looked at you, the tenderness in his eyes that often opposed the fiery red color of his irises. Perhaps, you really couldn’t judge a book by its cover.

As you wrote his name on the plastic cup, you heard him suddenly clear his throat. “Miss Y/N, forgive me. I couldn’t help but notice that scar,” he said with a poignant stare, gesturing towards your temple. “Quite a story behind that, I imagine?”

Your hand instinctively touched the faint scar, a puzzled look crossing your face. You had always been insecure about the scar on your temple, because not only was it unattractive, it was also extremely visible. Not even a laser treatment could help clear it out.

“Oh, uh… I’m not really sure how I got it,” you admitted, searching through your mind’s archive to no avail. “I was told it was while I was fighting off wanderers. I don’t remember much from that time because I’ve since retired from the Hunter’s Association.”

His eyes darkened for a moment, as if his heart dropped from a memory he had recalled, but he quickly masked his expression. “So, you’re a hunter?”

You shrugged. “Well, yeah. But it’s all in the past now.”

Mr. Skye stood there waiting for his order with an unreadable expression on his face. And you wondered why he looked heartbroken while lost in deep thought. Was he having a bad day? Going through a break-up? You weren’t nosey enough to ask. Eventually, his order was done and he took the cup, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

“Sometimes the past has a way of catching up to us.” His deep voice was smooth and soft when he spoke again. “But perhaps it’s best to focus on the present.”

You smiled, feeling a strange comfort in his words. “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

He hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to… have dinner with me sometime? I’d love to get to know you better.”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden invitation. A date?! You couldn’t remember the last time you were even in love. All you could recall was having a silly childhood crush on your neighbor, but then again, that was more than a decade ago. You knew nothing about dating at your age and it was ridiculous. But there was something about Mr. Skye, a familiarity you couldn’t ignore, and that rejecting his offer seemed wrong in your head.

Besides, you couldn’t deny how extremely handsome he was.

“Um, sure… Mr. Skye.”

“Perfect,” he said with a small smile, his gaze softening into one of genuine joy. “Tomorrow evening, then?”

Before you could agree on a schedule, the sudden flash of lightning illuminated the interior for a brief moment. Then, the subsequent crash of thunder made you jump, following the sound of rain pounding against the windows that filled the small space. Oh, boy.

“Ugh. How am I going to get home in this weather?” you muttered to yourself.

Mr. Skye, who had been quietly watching you from his spot, gave you an offer. “Need a ride?” he asked, his voice gentle but carrying a note of urgency. “It’s too dangerous to walk or wait for a cab in this storm.”

You hesitated for a moment. “I’d really appreciate that, Mr. Skye. But what about your,” you pointed towards the oblivious twins who were sitting on the corner, “minions?”

Your chosen term elicited a deep chuckle from the man. “Don’t mind them. They know their way back home.”

“But boss!”

“Boss, you said you’ll let me drive the sportscar tonight!”

“I’ll wait for you until your shift ends,” Mr. Skye ignored the duo and responded to you with an endearing smile. “No rush.”

It didn’t take long until you locked up the shop, but you did feel bad that Mr. Skye had to stay with you until ten in the evening when he could have already gone home. In fact, he had been acting strange. Acting too familiar with you. Did he already know you prior to your small interactions in the cafe for the past few weeks?

He held the door open for you as soon as you secured the shop, and together you ran through the torrential rain to his black sportscar. You were already aware that he was a wealthy man, and yet, you always wondered why he preferred a small, laid-back cafe in the Bloomshore Distrct rather than the lavish ones in Azure Square or even Universum. Was it to see you all along?

Jeez, you had so many unanswered questions in your head. Yet, you were also afraid to address the elephant in the room because you believed in the saying that ignorance is bliss. So in the end, the drive was quiet, the only sounds being the rhythm of the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. Mr. Skye didn’t speak a word and nor did you.

Once you reached your apartment, he quickly rushed out of the car and headed to open your door. He even used his jacket as a makeshift umbrella, covering you from the heavy rainfall. It was almost funny, really, how his face screamed of danger but he was actually quite a gentleman.

In return, you had to invite him in out of courtesy. “Would you like to come in for a while? It’s still pouring out there.”

He accepted your offer with a nod, and followed you like a tail inside. “Do you usually invite other people, too?”

“Sometimes,” you casually answered while the both of you walked through the empty corridors. “Why?”

“You aren’t talking about male colleagues, right?” he asked, seemingly taking a deep breath.

That wasn’t any of his concern, obviously. But the drive to test his emotions was strong. “Sometimes,” you said, finally reaching your door and unlocking it with your fingerprint. “Welcome to my home.”

The warmth of your apartment was a stark contrast to the cold storm outside, and you felt a little conscious of your small living space knowing that he probably lived in a luxurious presidential suite. It didn’t help that he started looking around your place, as if studying the smallest details of every corner for a reason you couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t sure if he was simply silently judging the aesthetics of your home, but you were beginning to feel uncomfortable as you placed his coat on the rack, watching the way he stopped to look at your photo on the wall.

It was like he felt a pang of sorrow.

“You’ve really erased me completely, kitten,” he quietly whispered.

You turned to him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe that’s for the better,” he replied, but his expression betrayed him. It was clear that he was holding back a flood of emotions.

Your heart started to race, pounding at a rhythm that you had never experienced before. And just then, you could see how tears welled up in his eyes. Tears that he concealed by leaning in to capture your lips in a desperate kiss. His hands cupped your face, and you could feel the intensity of his suppressed feelings that seemed to transcend the confines of your apartment. The yearning. The longingness. Perhaps, it was even sprinkled with feelings of regret.

“Mr. Skye, wait—!” You pulled away with wide, bewildered eyes, shocked by the fervor of his kiss. No matter how attractive he was, he was still a stranger to you. But then, your breath came in shallow gasps as a sudden, sharp pain began to explode in your head. A throbbing pulse spread from your temples and radiated outwards. It was a stabbing sensation that seemed to slice through your skull, as if a thousand needles were jabbing into your brain. What’s happening?

Mr. Skye’s face appeared above you. “Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his voice laced with a mix of worry and something deeper. He was whispering something about a protocore in your head, but you could barely understand a word, not when the ache in your temple was overcoming you entirely.

You were unable to form words, clutching your head with both hands in hopes of stopping the ache for even a little. But the pain was overwhelming. Too overwhelming for you to handle, and it came to a point where tears of pain began streaming down your face.

“I… I don’t know what’s happening,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He gently guided you on the couch, his touch careful and soothing. “Just breathe,” he murmured, offering a comforting presence like buoy in an open sea. “It’s my fault, kitten. I shouldn’t have kissed you so suddenly.” The intensity of the moment had shifted because of how tender his touch was. “You’re safe here,” he gently whispered into your ear. “Let the pain pass. I’ll be here with you.”

As the pain began to subside, you could feel the storm in your head gradually receding. And in his presence, you felt a strange mix of comfort and unease.

Studies say that a kiss can help calm someone’s nerves. You weren’t sure where that research was based on, but it was your body who allowed itself to seek it from the man in front of you. While your mind was telling you no, your heart was urging you to grab his shirt and pull him, once again, to a passionate kiss.

The kiss deepened naturally, and you found yourself responding to his need as the pull between you became irresistible. You were like a magnet to him—the force of attraction getting stronger and stronger the closer you were. Where was it coming from? How come you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame?

And while you were engaged in a tight lip-locking moment, you both ended up walking towards your bedroom; stumbling towards the bed, hands exploring, hearts racing. Soon, you were lost in each other, and the world outside was forgotten.

With both your clothes discarded on the floor, and with your steamy exchange continuing throughout the night, you found yourself eventually straddling him, moving your body to meet him with a gentle thrust. Every sway of your hips made his member hit you at your sweet spot, instantly sending a wave of pleasure within your body.

“S-Sir—”

“Sylus,” he breathed into your ear, hands tracing your curve, “Call me Sylus, kitten.”

Sylus. Sylus. The name sounded familiar yet foreign at the same time, but you were too sensually intoxicated to think about the history behind his name. All you could selfishly focus on at the moment was reaching your high. You were losing your mind over the euphoric sensation of having an intercourse with such a man who, not only was attractive on the face, but also on the body.

Sylus was packed. His muscles were toned from a seemingly consistent active lifestyle and intense workout routines. It felt great when you ran your hands along his broad shoulders, down to his toned chest, and further down to his perfectly sculpted abs.

“Mmh—!” A moan escaped your lips when you felt his shaft going deeper inside. “That’s…”

‘Good?” he whispered to your lips, encasing yours with his before he trailed his soft kisses around your neck. Each kiss definitely left a purple mark on your skin with the way he was suckling and nibbling on the flesh.

God, he was huge, too. His member completely filled you, stretched you even, as his cocktip kissed your cervix in a single thrust. He was crazy good at knowing all your sensitive places, holding your hips down so he could start pounding you upwards. Your tits began to bounce wildly and you even had to hold onto the headboard for support, because he was starting to go deeper and faster inside you.

“Ngh!”

“You don’t know how much I’ve missed this,” he said in between shaky breaths before latching his mouth into your right tit. He devoured your breast like a meal, playing with the nipple with the precise movements of his tongue. It was so good. Crazy good. It made you wonder how he seemed hyper-aware of the things you liked in bed. But how would that be possible when this was your first time having sex with him?

Sylus decided to shift the control by flipping you over, and hoisting your hips so he could lower his head down to your lady part. Your eyes almost rolled back when he spread your labia apart so he could lick your inner folds and taste every corner of your slick-coated cavern.

“S-Sylus,” you whined as his tongue rapidly moved in and out of your entrance until drool oozed down on your cunt. His eyes fluttered as he pulled his face away, soon palming your wet vulva with slow strokes. “Mmh…”

He eyed you with a tender gaze. “You’re so beautiful to me.”

It was certainly odd that his compliment seemed to touch your heart deeper than intended—that if you weren’t doing sexual activities right now, your heart would have been fluttering from his sweetness, especially when he met your lips again with a soft, loving kiss.

This time, he didn’t pull away. He didn’t detach his lips from yours, even as he was penetrating you with his cock again. With a single thrust, you were mewling into his mouth. His girthy member gave you a heavenly stretch that seemed to awaken the lustful demon inside of you.

Even Sylus was cussing under his breath as he continued to slam his entire length in, soon increasing the speed of his penetration to a pace that made him reach his peak. At this point, the coil in your lower abdomen was beginning to intensify, and you were clamping around his cock as if your walls weren’t tight enough to make him release a series of guttural moans.

“Are you near?” With a quick suction on your left breast, his own moans left his lips along with the loud squelching noises that filled the room. “‘Cause I am.”

Coincidentally, you were just arching your back because of how near you were, too. With screams getting louder, gasps causing your mouths to part open, and two people connected into a single body—you disintegrated under him as your lower abdomen signaled your orgasm and your toes started curling. “Ngh—Haah! Aah!”

“Hold on for me, kitten.” Sylus pounded into you through your overstimulation, picking up the pace until spurts of seed were sent straight to your womb. His movements became sloppy and uneven, pulling out of you only to see his semen seeping out of your pussy.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t fucking believe you just hooked up with a stranger.

But was he really one? Because your heart was telling you one thing, but your mind was telling you another. You didn’t know who to trust and listen to.

After your passionate session, the room was filled with the sound of your breaths mingling. Sylus, still holding you close, leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek, whispering, “How’s it?”

Curiosity got the better of you, and you asked the very question that had been plaguing your mind, “Sylus, please be honest with me,” you paused, “Did you know me before?”

He was silent.

But you continued, “What was our relationship?”

Sylus looked like he was contemplating his answer, his gaze distant. His eyes seemed to have found your ceiling interesting as he thought deeply, drawing in a deep breath, and gently caressing your arm. If you didn’t know better, you swore you could see the sorrow and resignation in his eyes—the somberness he tried to hide with a smile.

“Let’s just say I’m a fool who was in love with you for years, but you never reciprocated my love.”

“How so?” you asked, turning to face him. You absorbed his words while the pain of his unrequited love intersected with your own confusion. His answer didn’t quite feel right, but if he was truly your lover, then you knew there was a level of trust you should be placing on him. “Why do I get the feeling that I was the one who experienced a one-sided love before?”

“No, you were loved. You were very loved. There was no one else,” he continued, lachrymose eyes staring back at you as he stroked your hair, “I was the one who wasn’t worthy of you… But I’d like to try and win your heart again this time. If you allow it.”

Sylus’s eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the facade of the composed, enigmatic man you had come to know seemed to crack.

The vulnerability in his voice resonated with you, and you reached up to touch his face gently. “Sylus… I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry for not recognizing you before. I just… I lost a chunk of my memories, and I don’t know if it’s been altered or what, but…” Realizing that you were rambling, you took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember, okay?”

“Please don’t.” He shook his head, a rueful smile playing on his lips while thinking of the past that was rightfully erased. “And there’s no need for apologies, sweetie. There wasn’t anything you did wrong.”

As the rain continued its gentle patter against the window, you both settled into the quiet of the room until he pressed his lips onto yours once more.

Sylus’s touch was tender as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. “You should know,” he said quietly and earnestly, “that this time, I’ll only have eyes for you.”

#aNGST ANGST #U WANNA CRY AT 9AM??#THEN READ THIS #COS I BAWLED LIKE A BABY #MISS MAAM???? thAT WAS SO GOOD??????#i DIDNT EXPECT THE DEVELOPMENT MY GOD

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micasaessakusa · 5 months ago

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Please help a homeless trans woman with cancer fix her car! She need $200 asap as well as money for food and water.

VENM0 @ ruby_arnone

Pay///pal

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micasaessakusa · 5 months ago

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DOUBLE BLESS???!?!?!!! This fic is a gift that keeps on giving!!!!!! 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏 😭😭😭👌🏼👌🏼👌🏼

The Bolter (part six) (18+)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Bucky and the reader finally give in to their desires. In 2018, after the battle in Wakanda, Steve Rogers decides to be selfish and takes what he deserves (also known as, smut-filled self-indulgent chronicles with our super soldiers) + in the 1950s, Steve is greeted with the most unexpected of visitors

themes/warnings : language, smut ahead! 18+ - minors dni

word count : <3k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

It felt strange at first, feeling Bucky's lips against yours.

He's gentle, each kiss punctuated by a pause, like he's savouring each one.

He's worried that you might not kiss him back and that you don't feel the same.

But how could you not feel the same? How could this not feel right?

He pulls back for a second, and he takes you in. Your eyes blinking at him, lips left parted with a wet sheen over it.

He smiles. You mirror his gesture.

It's okay, he tells himself as he presses his forehead to yours, I am not alone in this.

He looks on as his warm-blooded hand grazes down to your collarbones, snakes above your ribs, then halts by the curve of your hips, gripping with a bit more strength, his reservations easing.

He wants more. His deep blue eyes beg the question.

That blue reminds you of someone else's for a split second, ones you would recognize anywhere, ocean eyes that you think you would love for all time.

Or so you thought.

Kissing Bucky feels like waking up from a drawn-out fever dream. All your life, you've been on the run, never quite finding a haven. Save for that cabin, many years ago.

But now, you could have this, and this something - someone - could actually be just yours.

You pull him back in, giving in, shivers running down your spine when his tongue snakes past your lips and dances with your own. His hands cup your backside, then lifts you up to wrap your legs to around his waist.

He slams you back against the wall as a result, and Bucky is quick to appraise you, asking, "Is this okay?"

Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, "Bucky, this is more than fucking okay."

His body slumps in relief against you, and he nuzzles your neck, breaking into a grin, and god help you if he doesn't feel better than the warmth of sunlight after an endless winter.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 《18+》 ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

He kisses you again, messily sucking at your bottom lip as he deftly carries you over to your kitchen island. You feel flushed when he pulls back to admire you, his pupils dilated, and says, "You taste so good, doll."

"Bucky," you pant, your fingers curling at the back of his neck.

"So good," he repeats. "I bet you taste good all over, too."

You're suddenly grateful to be wearing only teensy pajama shorts, feeling the rough pads of his fingertips pressing against your skin. The ridges of his bionic arm leaving tingles in their wake.

He lowers himself, until his face is level with your regrettably still-clothed crotch. His every breath gusts between your inner thighs, and when he bites his lip and slowly pulls your shorts and underwear down, down, until they slide off your ankles, the hungry look that forms on his face is almost enough to make you explode.

"You don't know how much I've wanted this," he whispers, lips gliding along your upper thigh, until it lands at the crest of your labia, where he places the softest, open-mouthed kisses. Your ass presses against the cold tile on your kitchen counter instinctively, your tight-knuckled hands bracing at your sides.

Maybe this is all a damn good dream. Maybe you imbibed yourself to sweet slumber, white wine bottle rolling empty by your bedside table.

Bucky licks a stripe along your cunt, before eagerly sucking at your throbbing opening. He uses his bionic fingers to stretch you open, sliding in and out, as his tongue plunges just above. After a while, he looks up at you for assurance.

Yes, god yes.

He's real and he's warm and he's here.

"Say you're mine, doll," he says. It's a command, but it comes across almost pleading. You can't exactly fault Bucky for having his fair share of doubts and insecurity. Steve Rogers has a light that is hard to eclipse, even in memory.

But that's all he is now. A memory.

There are voices in the back of Bucky's mind that taunt him, saying, she'll never be yours. Not really. How could she, when you don't hold a candle to her former lover? The hero, the soldier, the Avenger.

But he drowns them all out, even just for tonight. One look at you falling apart from his touch is enough to quell all of his worries. I deserve this, he thinks. Steve left to get what he truly wants. Who's to stop me from doing the same?

"All yours," you say. "I'm all yours."

His heart soars, and his lips stretch out in a smile, glistening from the juices of your cunt.

He stands, his face levelling with yours, and his mouth gravitating towards your own. Your hands find purchase in his hair, holding him ever closer, fingernails massaging his scalp.

He groans in pleasure at the sensation and against your lips, he admits, half-muffled, "I could kiss you forever."

"Good thing you super soldiers live quite long then."

"Hmm," he agrees, then adds breathlessly, his blue eyes burning into you, "I wanna... wanna fuck you, doll. Would you let me have you?"

By his tone, you almost wonder how he held himself back from adding please at the end.

"Bucky," you can't help but smile, "do you even have to ask?"

And it's a goddamn blissful whirlwind from there.

He pulls you from the kitchen island, and you land clumsily on his shoes, tripping into his arms in the process. He laughs, jokily saying, "My girl right here..."

"Yeah," you wag your eyebrows, "I am so smooth."

"It's almost impressive," he responds, both hands framing your face, about to lean in.

"Almost?" you reach up and trace his lips.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were some secret agent or something," he makes a suspicious face, and it's all so silly that you break out into a giggle.

"Oh yeah?" you play along, while you two sway aimlessly, arms wrapped around each other.

"Yeah," he nods, then says, "come here and kiss me already."

"Just a kiss then?"

"A kiss," he nips at your earlobes, "then y'know, maybe we can make love and all that," then he pecks at the corner of your lips, "maybe... I dunno... you'll finally let me fuck you senseless." He shrugs at that, as if it was the most obvious thing.

You come to realise that Bucky Barnes has perhaps always been this charming. Was he like this in the 40s - a smooth talker, perennial ladies magnet? You remind yourself to ask him about it later.

But now... now the two of you stumble into your bedroom, in a flurry of kisses and the rest of your clothes haphazardly thrown on the floor.

Taking him in, you see how Bucky is undeniably well-built, his every muscle defined and trained to perfection. He makes a sound of appreciation when the last article of clothing is stripped from your body, his hands grabbing on the closest patch of skin he can find. "You're so beautiful," he preens, squeezing at the mounds of your breasts. He then guides you down on your bed, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and gently nipping at the flesh.

"Are you kidding," you can barely speak, eyes shut in pleasure, when he plunges his fingers back into your soaked cunt. "Have you seen you?"

He merely continues, watching as you grip his wrist and beg, "Just like that, Buck... so good... faster...."

Adding a third finger in, he whispers in your ear, "You gonna come for me, doll?"

"Y-yes... keep going..."

"So damn perfect," he purrs, fingers making hook motions inside of you, speeding up the pace.

He alternates between kissing you full on the mouth, and nipping at your neck, letting you take grateful breaths of air. Your chest rises and falls almost in sync with his fingers audibly slopping in and out of your cunt.

Bucky can't seem to take it any longer when straddles you, lining up with your entrance. His sucks your pre-cum from his fingers before giving his taut cock a few strokes for good measure. He tilts his pelvis forward, his tip pressing right against your opening. Keeping it in position, he half-crawls up to you, until his forearms brace by the sides of your face.

His pupils are blown out and his eyes appear entirely darkened when they meet yours. You nod once, biting your lip in anticipation.

His cock enters you, stretching you out wide. It's a familiar kind of pain, one that's most welcome. He watches in awe as your eyes roll to the back of your head as he slides in, inch by inch, until he's fully sheathed.

He lets out a deep exhale, partially in relief. He's here, you've accepted him and you're only his for tonight.

You catch him smiling to himself, and ask, "Amused, Buck?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he replies. He slides out of you just so, before burying himself back in, right to the hilt. A moan bubbles out of you throat.

"Just thinkin' about how lucky I am," he rasps through another quick snap of his pelvis. "Thinkin' about how damn perfect you sound, taking my cock in so well like that."

"Mmmphh," is all you can manage, when he picks up the pace, slamming into you with every thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. He sits back, lifting your legs over his shoulders.

The new angle allows him to plunge in deeper, hitting that one sweet aching spot each time.

"Bucky," you moan, hands reaching to steady yourself using the headboard, greedily looking to where his body connects with yours. To where his thick cock disappears inside your pussy, again and again.

It turns sloppy, frantic, your legs freely extending to the sides. Beads of sweat forming by his brows, grunts freely emanating from his lips. He falls forward, and you wrap your arms around him, nails scratching his back.

"Oh yeah, doll," he would say, "...feel so good... so good..." until the words are no longer coherent, his pelvis jackrabbiting with no rhythm.

"Bucky," you moan, feeling your release nearing, getting hotter and hotter.

His forehead connects with yours, and with one wet all-tongue kiss, you feel him convulse inside of you, filling your insides with his cum.

He makes sure to keep moving, to keep kissing you all over, until you follow not long after.

Hands gripping the sheets, you're overwhelmed with bliss. It's all pleasure, all warmth, all Bucky.

He collapses next to you after a moment, breathless. The two of you share the smile of satisfied lovers, and he wants to say more. He wants to say it, but the confession isn't fully formed.

Not yet.

For now, this is enough.

You lean in and press a gentle kiss on his lips.

Oh yeah, he thinks. This is more than enough.

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2018, two nights after the battle in Wakanda

Once it started, it was like dominoes cascading right into place.

There was no stopping it - you and Steve definitely had no desire to stop.

He appeared in the doorway of your quarters just after midnight, the Avengers compound somber and silent. Once he spoke your name in that low voice, you knew what he wanted.

You wanted it too. Needed it even.

You both did everything you could, put it all on the line and it was all lost in a single second. With just a mere snap.

You were still trying to process the depth of your loss, still haven't reached out to your friends to check if they still existed. You didn't want to face the possibility of calls unanswered, no one left on the other line.

Steve was the same, but he bore it harder than you. In that moment, he hated himself - the so-called leader of the Avengers, ever the figurehead of guidance and hope. Everyone always looked on him to be perfect and dominant and steadfast.

He knew none of that would ease up anytime soon. And to the rest of the world, he would have to be Captain America. They would look to him for answers, and advice on how to proceed. He would be expected to carry everyone through their pain, and he would.

But who was ever there for him? When will he ever be allowed to just be Steve, and to show that he also feels completely vulnerable, especially in that time?

He whispered your name, just the once, and that was all it took.

America's Golden Boy had been holding everything in ever since they got him out of the ice. That night, you allowed him to release it all, and the two of you collided in a frenzy of lust and longing, frustration and defeat.

And unbridled love.

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Steve kissed you hungrily, much harder than he did right after the battle, if that were even possible.

That kiss had been bruising, but this was uninhibited.

No, there was nothing unsure in his movements. There was no doubt of what he wanted when he picked you up bridal-style, biting at your neck.

He gracelessly plops you down on your bed, and you bite your lip at the sight of him. He'd shaved again, so it was easy for you to spot the fleck of fresh blood on his lips.

He took notice, and he carelessly ran his thumb over it.

"You bit me," he said, "you fucking minx."

Steve Rogers sure had a mouth on him when he wanted to.

Getting on your knees, you pull his hand to your lips and suck the red spot off his thumb.

"Goddamn it, angel," he whispers huskily, eyes glazing over in lust.

Angel. You felt your warmth pooling down below.

He hurriedly stripped off his white shirt and stepped out of his navy sweatpants, then beckoned to you with a tilt of his jaw, "C'mere."

Standing upright by the foot of the bed, he simply watched as you crawled closer to him.

You knelt on the bed, palms pressed against his bare chest. Even at that height, he was still angled at almost a foot taller than you.

"What do you want?" he asked, his fingers tilting your face up at him. "Use your words, angel."

Tell me you want me.

"Steve," you started to say, but your words fumble when he started peppering soft kisses on your neck.

"Mmm," he purred against your skin, "what was that?"

"I... I want you."

His stony mask fell, but it was short-lived. His lips curled right back into that imperious smirk.

He then bunched his fists in the neckline of your shirt, then rips it down the middle, like it was nothing but paper.

Your torso left bare to him, he cast a hungry look over the curve of your breasts, before his eyes met yours again.

"Off," his fingers ran along the waistband of your trousers, drifting against your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. "unless you want me to rip it apart, too."

His commanding voice made you scramble to follow, shakily pulling your trousers off and pushing them off the bed.

"All of it," he impatiently added. So you complied.

Aye, Captain.

Your underwear landed atop your trousers on the floor. You were exposed to him, fully, cold air making your nipples rise on attention. He shamelessly took you in, but he does not make a move just yet.

He made it known that you should follow his orders. "Well?" he said. "What are you waiting for?" His eyes lower to the shape of his cock straining against his boxers, then back to you.

Licking your lips, you lowered the cotton, until his erect manhood was revealed to you in all its glory, glistening at the tip. You'd imagined it, many times before, wondering whether the serum also made this part of him enhanced.

And it did. God, it did.

Or maybe Steve Rogers has always been this blessed.

Your eyes flit to him for permission, and he just looked amused. Gripping at base of his length, you angled your head forward, and let your saliva drip down on it. You use the wetness from your spit and his pre-cum to give his cock several, good strokes, making it twitch in the process.

He hummed, the sound deep in his chest. "Good girl," he praised you, making your whole body feel like fucking jelly, "don't keep me waiting, now."

Your mouth formed an O-shape, sliding down on his cock, and you take him in fully until his tip touched the back of your throat. He fucking moans, the sound so lewd to your ears, disjointed by his little shaky breaths.

"That's my... good... girl," he praised, when you moved your head up and back down, lips gliding smooth on the thick girth of his soaked cock. He pressed his palm on the back of your head, guiding you, making you suck him a faster pace.

It's too much - your own increasing pleasure, and the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - that errant tears escape the corners of your eyes.

"Shhh, my angel," he purred. "I'm coming... just you wait..."

"Mmm," you could barely make a sound, only glancing up to appreciate him. His eyebrows are ruffled, maroon lips parted and panting, his head tilted to see his good girl at a better angle.

His moaned loudly, almost growled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Fuck, fuck," he curses, "I'm so close..."

You slid him in deep one last time, before he pulled out of your mouth suddenly, pushing you to your back. He clambered onto the sheets in a flourish, before releasing streams of hot milky cum on your chest.

His fingers squeezed his cock, as he emptied himself onto you, watching as the rivulets stream from your nipples down to your bedsheets.

"Steve," you watched in amazement, entranced by the sheer pleasure in his expression. "Take me."

"Oh I will," he promised, still stroking himself at the sight of you. He's hard again, and you just laid there, aching to be filled.

He positioned himself, darkened gaze greedily taking you in, pleased by the unabashed desire on your face. He doesn't break eye contact as he mercilessly pushed his cock inside you in one fell swoop. The sheer size of it gave rise to a slightly painful sensation, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming his name.

He didn't like that, didn't take to the idea that you were holding back.

"Scream my name, angel," he prodded. "You know you want to."

And scream his name you did. You couldn't help it, repeatedly exclaiming, "Fuck yes, Steve," as he pounded into you without abandon. He gave it everything, let go of it all, with each relentless thrust.

Your eyes were closed in sheer pleasure when suddenly he deftly twists your body over, his cock never leaving the slick warmth of your pussy.

The sudden change in position rendered you alert for a moment, your hands out reaching out to brace yourself.

You're left on all fours, hands gripping the sheets, as Steve kept slamming into your dripping cunt. He kept a tight hold on you, squeezing your raised ass, using it to bury himself even deeper.

He made you see stars with every sharp snap of his hips, made you moan his name again and again. Your cunt getting slicker, the warmth in your belly spreading each time he praised you with, "My good girl," or, "You take me so well, angel."

He soon released again inside of you, then pulled out, your pussy dripping with his cum. But he wasn't finished just yet. He effortlessly carried you over to one side of your room, your back pressed against his chest.

You immediately realised what he wanted to do, when he stopped right in front of the full-length mirror, and bid you with a stern, "Hands up."

You braced your palms against the glass, catching his eyes in the reflection which were clouded over in sheer lust. He pressed his palm on your lower belly and takes you in from behind, his cock sliding right back into your cunt. The pleasure of it hit so damn good, that you knees almost gave way.

"Look at how good you take me," he groaned from behind you. "Look at how beautiful you are, angel."

Your moans melded with his, along with the slick constant sound of his cock plunging into your sore pussy.

At some point, you fell forward and the motion made him follow. Your breasts pressed against the mirror, and he tilted your head back to sloppily kiss you, one hand applying pressure on your neck. He left bites on your neck and shoulders, his sharp teeth sinking into the skin to muffle his moans.

He fucked you wildly, drunk on the sight of your blissed-out face in the reflection. When your release came, it fell almost in sync with his, cum spilling down your thighs.

It took a long while to come down from such a high, and you lay in bed, letting everything sink in. You watched as he retrieved a wet towel from your bathroom and cleaned you up promptly.

When he joined you a moment later, he encased you with his entire body, legs entwined with yours, face nuzzled against your neck.

You felt tiredness quickly setting in, as you stroked his face, lovingly whispering, "How about we just go back to our cabin, hmm?"

That was just a dream, and you both knew it. The world just wasn't in the habit of allowing you two to simply be happy.

In that moment, Steve wanted to cry. Because you were perfect, just so perfect, and he wasn't.

He could never be good enough, never be the Steve you thought he was. Your Steve. All he was is a man out of time, a man who can never come home from the war.

He was broken, and all he had left was the last truth he held onto, the one thing he could give you.

"I love you," he whispered as you drifted to sleep.

He wouldn't be there when you woke in the morning. But you would remember everything, and like a resounding echo, his words would never leave you.

I love you.

If only that was enough. If only that made him stay.

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2024, seven months after Steve's departure

Bucky stays over for the night, and you wake up in his arms.

It's a lazy day, no routine in place, the two of you falling in and out of sleep, talking nonsense and sharing food. Smiling against kisses. Having to bite your lip at the sensation of his metal fingers pleasuring you over again.

At some point in the early evening, you decide to wash up and get dressed. You settle on the couch in your living room, as he takes it upon himself to make sandwiches in the kitchen.

You switch the TV on and the main news channel appears, the sound lowered as you watch Bucky find his way around your cupboards.

"Need any help?"

He winks at you, funnily waving a piece of toast up, "I got it, doll."

Then something flashes from the corner of your eye, that metallic red, white, and blue.

It's on the screen - that shield - being paraded around by some stranger.

Your heart pounding, you increase the volume to the maximum, and Bucky's attention is immediately piqued.

The sounds of a full marching band erupt in your apartment, theme music being played in what looks like a high school football field.

Bucky is now at your side, his work in the kitchen forgotten.

John Walker is our nation's new Captain America, the screen reads.

"What the fuck?" you exclaim.

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The 1950s, seven months after Steve's arrival

The visitors at the door render Steve alert, the sight an immediate wake-up call to his senses.

Nothing ever happens in his life in this time. There is no reason to look out for danger in his calm piece of suburbia.

Steve doesn't understand why it feels like he all but welcomed the presence of a threat, his neurons finally firing back up, all of his senses heightened.

"Loki," he greets coldly.

"Right," Loki says, then turns to his companion, "I told you he wouldn't be too eager to see me."

"Come on now, what do you mean?" the man responds. "This is Steve Rogers, he's possibly the most polite person of his time."

"Okay, but even this dutiful soldier would surely punch me in the face after what I tried to do to his world - "

"Well, you were being plain ridiculous when you made everyone kneel," the man says, without missing a beat, like he was simply talking about something regular that occurred over lunch.

"I know, I know," Loki shakes his head. "Can't we just forget about that?"

"Stop," Steve snaps, and the two visitors fall silent. He addresses Loki, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh," the man smiles, "Language, Cap."

He's met with an impatient glare from Steve who towers over him.

The man balks, "Hmm, isn't that a thing you say to - "

Loki only shakes his head at him.

"Well," the man straightens, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Captain," he offers his hand, "My name is Mobius and I work for the TVA."

Steve reluctantly shakes his hand, while routinely keeping watch on Loki.

Mobius, aware that Steve's sense of suspicion has no chance of easing, goes straight to the point.

"Steve, we're here because... well... you're not supposed to be here."

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii @nommingonfood @fortunatelyweepingninja @cyberaestheticals @loki-laufeyson68 @queenofshinigamis @samkickikc @utterlyhopeful-fics @mthealy

I know what you're thinking - how can Steve still leave after ALL THAT???? Well, he's a complicated man, darlings. And he'll battle his fair share of self-loathing and depression in the years prior to Endgame. Love is brutal sometimes, and Steve just won't be able to allow himself to succumb to it when he's not at peace :(

Also - I wanted to reverse the usual theme of Steve being the gentle lover, and Bucky being darker and self-assured. But I wanted it to still make sense - here Steve was rough because he's using it as a form of release, after all the trauma he went through. And sweet Bucky was understandably a bit reluctant because he doesn't trust himself completely yet.

you get the gist ;) I've loved each and every one of your comments/messages etc. Stay tuned for more of our beloved bolters 💙

#FIC REC FOR SURE

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micasaessakusa · 5 months ago

Text

OH MY GOD ARE YOU TRYING TO DRAIN ME OF MY TEARS MISSMAAM

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

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The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

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early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

Read part six here ~

My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

#tHE FIRST KISS SCENES #???!??!?!?!!#aRE WE TRYING TO DIE HERE??#iS THAT THE GOAL???#😭😭😭😭😭#i LOVE IT UGH

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micasaessakusa · 5 months ago

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MISSMAAM THE RELATIONSHIP BUILDING UGGGH 😚👌🏼THE ANGST IS *chef’s kiss* mwah mwah 😭

The Bolter (part four)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

in this chapter : Steve realises where home is, both in 2017 and in the 1950s. The reader bolts, faced with the memory of the woman Steve cherishes. Bucky starts to find himself drawn to you.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, angst

word count : 2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

2017, a year after the Avengers' Civil War

It had been nearly four months of the arrangement that you and Steve shared. Hiding away in some remote cabin in Alaska.

Time was running out. You both knew you had to get a move on soon, as you can't stay in one place for too long.

If only you actually stayed put, and didn't cause Steve to worry almost every other week.

He quickly realized that you came and went when you pleased. A habit you must have picked up from your profession, one that Steve was sure would drive him to madness.

He was glaring at the newspaper he picked up from the nearest town when he made a supply run.

Your name was printed in bold lettering, along with your moniker, Huntress. Wanted for conspiring against the State, it read. You had been spotted in some other city, a blurred-out CCTV snapshot of your face included on the page.

If seen, please alert your local authorities. Suspected to be in hiding with Steve Rogers, famously known as Captain America. Reward to be disclosed.

Captain America. Steve never thought there would come a time when that name would leave a bad taste in his mouth, until now. He wondered what excuse you would have this time. Which person was it that you just needed to help? What was this important thing that justified suddenly leaving without telling Steve?

Steve hated your absence, but he knew he was being a hypocrite. He admired how eager you were to help your friends. If he was in your place, he would probably do the same.

He had begun thinking of the next plan. He knew he would always be welcome in Wakanda, but he didn't want to abuse their generosity. It would subject them to intense scrunity in the international political arena and they were already doing more than enough with just taking Bucky in.

No matter the next step, wherever the location, Steve found himself thinking of you. He would always think in terms of we, not I.

Where would we go next? Where would we be safe?

You were free to go wherever you wanted, of course. The others have been roaming different corners of the world, and maybe it was even safer that way, to spread out in those circumstances.

You could choose to go alone to a different hideout, and of course he would have to accept that.

But Steve didn't want you to leave him.

Why? What was he to you? What were you to him? Steve thought of how he never had the best timing. He knew there was something there, and you had to know it too.

He felt it whenever you would smile at him as he handed you your cup of coffee. He felt it in how comfortable it was when you would both read in silence at the opposite ends of the couch in the living room. He felt it in how much you cared, in how you understood his strong tether to Bucky.

And that small cabin was the biggest testament to it all. It was absurd, how much it felt like a home to Steve.

A home, while he was being hunted down and scorned by the country whose values he so proudly stood for and represented. A place of refuge, while everything else was in shambles.

He knew it was all because of you.

If only you would be quick in coming back home.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You didn't mean to leave abruptly again, without giving any notice.

Really, you swore you didn't.

You were also lying to yourself. Because you knew it was all because of what Steve mentioned a few nights prior.

Or rather, who.

It was all going well, you thought. You were getting to know your dangerously attractive housemate quite well. So much so, that you had decided he would be the first one you'd call if you ever got into trouble or needed a shoulder to cry on.

Natasha would understand, of course. She had been in contact, updating on her whereabouts, and also checking in on her apparent ship.

"Ship? Here in the woods?" You had been visibly confused, stupidly glancing out the window as if that very ship would materialise.

"No, you idiot. Ship... relationship. A couple. All the kids are using it these days."

Oh. You debated acting oblivious but you knew that would never fly with someone like Natasha. Nothing really got past her, and you had to admit, your excitement flared up a little bit every time she hinted at something between you and Steve.

Nat was one of the shrewdest people you ever met, and she didn't have the habit of stirring things for no reason.

So you believed her, and you hoped.

In that cabin, in that isolated little bubble, Steve was really all you had and vice versa. Selfishly, you wished you never had to leave. You found yourself imagining that you were an actual couple, maybe even married. That you had chosen to live together in that place, and that circumstances did not just force you together.

That image quickly came crashing down, the curtains closing in the middle of a play. Because that was all it was - make believe.

You and Steve were sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace one late night, your mind going haywire because his knee was pressed against yours. Your heartbeat skipping because he would pat your leg once in a while.

Maybe it was a Steve thing. Maybe it was just a gesture people make when they tell stories to their friends. But friends wouldn't lean in so close, would they?

He eagerly shared about his life in the 30s, when he was an asthmatic hundred-pound determined youngster. When he'd only ever been Steve. He kept a box of personal things that reminded him of his era, and the two of you perused through them. You smiled at the brochure from a museum exhibit that featured him and Bucky. Tried flicking on rusty old lighters. Jokingly saluted him while putting on the pins that were circulated when he was first introduced to the public as Captain America.

Your delusional self thought you noticed his focus drifting to your lips almost every time you replied to him, and that he got that look in his eyes.

But you reached in the box and picked up what looked like a compass. You pried it open, and one glance at his face told you everything.

In it was an image of Peggy Carter, you recognised. You knew all about her and her work for SHIELD. You knew her and Steve had been acquainted back in their day, but you didn't know how much.

He leaned back almost immediately, his touch no longer on you, looking like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

"Peggy Carter, right?" you offered eventually, balancing the compass in your palm. From what you can recall, she had passed recently. But clearly her ghost was still haunting Steve.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, strangely unable to look you in the eye. "I met her just before I was put to the serum, actually."

Well, that's definitely something. She knew him when he was just Steve, and she saw him. That must have left a mark.

"So... can you tell me about her?" you asked to fill the silence. To quell the barage of intrusive thoughts you had.

Steve noticed the difference in your posture, straightened back and stiff smile. You had been freely laughing moments ago, and he had been too. He wouldn't be able to remember what he said after that, distracted by the sudden coldness in your expression. He must have said something about Peggy being good at her job. About how big of an impact she made on SHIELD.

You didn't want to ask about the obvious thing, and you didn't have to. You could see it in his eyes.

You were also responding on auto-pilot. Like you were simply making small talk. The mood had changed, and you hated yourself for not looking into Steve's file with more detail. There must have been clues there about his past relationship with Peggy.

But if you had known... then what?

You would have fallen for him anyway. But at least, you would be aware that you were falling for someone who wasn't yours to keep.

Because if there ever was something, Peggy's unfading light is one you don't want to compete with.

You let the conversation go on for a few minutes more, to not arouse his suspicion, before making some excuse about being tired and needing sleep.

Hold on, you heard him plead. Maybe you can show him one of the movies you kept telling him about? The one with the Anakin character you liked?

You did your best not to cave in.

Even if all you wanted was to crumble, and kiss him hard enough that any remnants of Peggy Carter still lingering would dissipate.

When you heard that your friend Mason needed some help getting Secretary Ross off his tail, you jumped on the opportunity to leave. Even though Natasha already said she would be on it.

Of course, she saw right through you.

The task was quick and easy and soon enough, the three of you were sitting on lawn chairs in front of her cozy trailer in Norway, when Mason cheekily commented on the little arrangement you had with the Captain America.

"How do you do it?" he joked. "Being under the same roof as him, and not getting some of that? I mean, I know you're all international criminals right now, but even criminals need some loving once in a while."

"Leave her alone," Natasha quipped, pointing at him.

"We're friends," you said defensively, to which Nat raised her eyebrows at you.

"Sure, hon," she said, before taking a swig of her beer. "Shouldn't you be making your way back to him? Steve must be worried."

You shrugged, but you knew she was right. It didn't feel right being away from him like that. Running away like you were a teenager acting out.

It took you only two days to come back, with the help of one of Mason's many smuggled helicopters.

You felt his presence immediately once you stepped foot in the cabin.

Days old newspapers sprawled on the kitchen counter. Fresh coffee on the pot. The surprising but pleasant smell of baked goods coming from inside the oven.

He materialised from your periphery, wiping his hands clean on a towel. Clean-shaven once more, your eyes getting drawn to his pink lips now in clear view.

"Did you - "

"Oh, yeah," he said, gesturing towards the oven. "I tried making you something. Nat called me and said you were on your way back."

That traitor.

But then Steve added, "Welcome back," with that sheepish smile on his face, and you forgot what you were supposed to be pretending to be annoyed at Nat for.

It was comfortable, familiar, like home, when you both silently enjoyed the blueberry muffins he prepared.

You expected him to lecture you, to remind you of the dangers of running off by yourself again. But he took a gentler approach.

It felt good when he made sure you were okay, asking the same question but in three iterations. Are you okay? Did everything go well? Does anything hurt at all?

Did he know why you left so abruptly? Did he suspect anything?

Later that evening, he brought up the fact that perhaps you both should be moving on to another safe place.

You felt his eyes glued onto you, gauging your reaction.

Taking a deep breath, you said, "Okay."

Steve had been practicing what to say, how to ask you, while you were away. He would suggest that you were safer together. That the two of you could go see Bucky for a time. That it was probably smarter for you to stick with someone like him - if you ever got caught, he could use himself as leverage, negotiate in order to lighten your sentence.

But all that was no longer needed, because you asked, "Where will we go?", without wavering.

We.

It turned out Steve wasn't going to lose his home, after all.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The 1950s, six months after Steve's arrival

Steve is certain that there must be something wrong with him.

Maybe he's just been in the fray for far too long, going from one fight to the next, that now he is supposed to settle and be at peace - he can't.

It disappoints him. He's frustrated with himself. He's become angry.

It's not fair. How does he still feel like a man out of time for someone who has returned back to where he supposedly came from. Back to where he belongs.

Peggy has noticed his frustration, so she suggested they head down to a local fancy restaurant once a week.

A recurring date of sorts, giving them the chance to spend one-on-one time together. They had both been busy - Peggy with SHIELD, Steve with his newfound job managing a local community centre.

His job was simple enough, definitely less demanding than what he's used to, and he's satisfied that he still gets to be of service. He's also refurbishing their home. Doing everything to keep busy.

Everything to keep you out of his mind.

But Hunter would stroll in when he would fit the new wooden panels for the back porch.

Hunter, his dog. Named so because Steve had the thought that Huntress would appreciate the tribute.

You would, but you aren't there.

He's supposed to be at peace now. He's supposed to finally feel at home.

But he wasn't called the man out of time for no reason, and he's come to accept that maybe they had been onto something.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, six months after Steve's departure

Bucky's date is going well. At least he thinks so. Not that he would have much knowledge on how these things go nowadays.

His first date as himself, James Barnes, since the 1940s. Leah's a lovely girl, but it was mostly due to yours and Yori's instigating that he caved in and asked her out.

Well, he didn't really ask. You did. But Leah was kind enough to accept.

The conversation is fine, flowing smoothly, a couple beers shared between the two.

Leah asks how old he is, and he replies dryly, "106."

Bucky isn't sure she got it, but it's better this way. She doesn't need to know who he is, or what he's done. She wouldn't understand.

As they play a round of Battleship, Bucky wonders if you would be good at this game, if you would playfully stare into his eyes much like Leah is doing.

He thinks of how much he likes your eyes, and the way you look at him.

But he is 106 after all, so he's not some fool. He suspects that he might be a stand-in for his revered lost bestfriend. Do you see him, and only him, or is he partially hidden behind Steve's shadow?

Do you keep him around, because he reminds you of him?

Bucky decides he's not ready to know the answer to those questions. Not just yet.

Leah makes another move. He lets her win.

He calls you right after the date. You did say that he should tell you all about it.

"So how was it?" you eagerly ask right away, not even bothering with a hello.

Bucky finds himself smiling at your voice, pausing on the sidewalk on the way back to his apartment, "Have you played Battleship before?"

Read chapter five here ~

Happy TTPD release day! I just knew The Bolter would be one of my favourites!!!

The final scene is in reference to the first episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Lil bit of a spoiler!!!! -- We'll see them all back together in the middle of that series.

There will only two-three more chapters of jumping back and forth in time. I'm also worried I'll confuse myself with the timeline. If the months/years aren't aligned with MCU canon, please ignore it.

Also - if not in the next one, then there will definitely be smut in chapter six. But with who???? Steve or Bucky? I'll let you guys speculate... 👀

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micasaessakusa · 5 months ago

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The way my tears were actually streaming as I read this after just waking up 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

The Bolter (part one)

Steve Rogers x f!Reader

in this chapter : Steve is about to walk out of your life, causing you to let go of everything you two have, and everything that could be.

📝 yes, the title is inspired by Taylor Swift's upcoming song The Bolter. In my interpretation and in this story, it is meant to symbolize someone who runs from someone or something. A potential relationship. A loved one. And the choice is not easy, one that may bring a lot of remorse or catharsis? Anyhow - Steve IS a bolter. In the beginning, at least.

themes/warnings : language, angst!!!, pining, unrequited love, Steve is kind of an asshole for leaving (but we love him anyway)

word count : < 1k

masterlist ▪︎ next chapter

This is it.

This must be what true heartbreak feels like.

Steve, your best friend and the unrequited love of your life, has decided to volunteer to return the Infinity Stones to their respective timelines. Very noble of him.

But he also confessed that he plans to stay with Peggy, now that he finally has the chance.

They can have the dance that was stolen from them, decades ago.

Steve can be with his true love it seems. And that person is just not you.

Well, fuck my life.

"Doll," he smiles ruefully, both of your hands encased in his, "say something."

Say something, he says. What is there to say - I'm in love with you, I want you to stay with me? Don't leave me? I want you stay - for Bucky, for Sam, for Nat. For everyone. For me?

What can you fucking say that will ever be enough? In the 7 years that you've known Steve, you've grown to love him. As a friend, as family. Then, almost inevitably, as the only keeper of your heart. And he knows this.

But he's still leaving. Because, at the end of the day, Peggy is the keeper of his heart.

To you, Steve has always been everything good. Golden boy perfection, with a heart that would put a saint's to shame. Sunshine, laughter, companionship, standing tall and unwavering in his ideals. His gleaming red, white, and blue tendrils snaking their way into the very fibres of your being and taking root.

But now, all you feel is empty. You were angry, when he first told you, days ago. You had almost screamed at him, told him how unfair he was being. You made a long, drawn-out case for Bucky. How he doesn't deserve this. But really, you were making a case for yourself.

Stay, you had said.

He simply smiled, without any mirth. Not like his usual on-brand Steve Rogers gesture of sincerity. He smiled and it did not reach his eyes. He was sad, or maybe he pitied you. And that made you even angrier.

Until minutes later, when you finally broke down, and sobbed quietly in his arms.

"I hate you," you muttered against the creases of his shirt.

"I love you," he said back, and you hated him even more for it. He doesn't get to say that to you, in that way. Not in the same way he would say to Peggy.

Now, right before stepping onto the platform that will cause him to vanish from your life, he says it again.

"You do know that I love you, right?" His smile is genuine, if not a little nervous. He hoped you would be as accepting as Bucky, and send him off with just a rueful look. A gentle, final word. A sweet farewell that he can take with him as a reminder of all the times you spent together.

"I know," you breathe, relenting. Steve does not like that your eyes are glazed over, empty. Like you're not taking him in at all. You take notice of the resulting sag in his shoulders, out of character from the dignified stride he sported as he was saying goodbye to the others.

A big part of you wants to remain indignant. So what if he's hurt or uncomfortable due to your coldness? It serves him right.

"Come here," he whispers, and it comes across a silent plea. Come here? Will you, please?

You take just one small step closer, but he is already ahead, wrapping his arms around your frame. Your stony mask breaks as your cheek presses against his chest, away from his view. His chest plate glistens from your tears, but you don't have it in you to wipe them away.

When he pulls away to look down at you, his heart breaks. He cradles your face in his hands as you look up at him through wet eyelashes, and it's almost enough to make him consider staying.

But then you say, "It will all be okay, Steve." You gingerly pry his hands from your cheeks, giving them a comforting squeeze. "We will be okay."

You look behind you, where Bucky stands watching the exchange, and he offers an encouraging nod.

You take a step back, mustering everything that you possibly can, all the love you have for Steve, to give him one last genuine smile.

"Go get your girl."

Read part two here.

The way I was making myself upset while writing this - god I love angst!!! ~~~

I was gonna keep going, make it even more brutal, but I'll save that for the upcoming parts. It will have some Bucky x reader as well 🖤

God Bless America('s ass).

oh, and let me know if you wish to be tagged!

#uGGGGHHHHH #I LOVE THE ANGST #😭😭

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micasaessakusa · 6 months ago

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“he's not that experienced, of course not. how could he be when he's saved all his firsts for you?”

MISSMAAM. THE WAY I UGLY CRIED SOBBED DOWNRIGHT WAILED WHEN I READ THAT LINE. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

xavier's nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: xavier x female!reader

➵ word count: 2.3k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. cockwarming, breeding kink, slight exhibitionism, sex toys, edging.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ zayne's ver. | rafayel's ver.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

notes: true to the poll, i will be doing xavier first, while i work on any other oneshot, i hope this keeps you fed ;)

also anon, if you see this, the zayne one is on its way dw <3333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) it takes it out of him completely, pounding your pussy and making sure you're satisfied. so unless you tell him to get up specifically, he'll stay balls deep inside you until he goes soft, letting your warmth and twitching body lull him to sleep. "5 more minutes…"

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he likes his arms- toned biceps that are the perfect handle for you when he's stuffing you with his cock. he loves watching you struggle underneath him, knowing he's the only one you'd cling to so desperately. his favourite body part when it comes to you has to be your boobs. if it were tits or ass for him, he'd choose the former any day of the week; xavier loves squeezing your nipples between his fingers, cupping them in his hands as he fucks you. he loves the way they bounce when he's pounding away at your stretched pussy. that, and they're the perfect pillow for when he's done with you, letting your heartbeat soothe him as he drifts off to sleep. "so perfect- you're beautiful, you know that?"

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) xavier loves plugging your sopping cunt when he finally cums inside you, loves the way your body twitches under him, spent with how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, pussy spasming around him as he pumps his dick into you a few more times, making sure every last drop ends up inside you. he'll leave his dick in, ignoring the cum staining the sheets, your slick covering his thighs as he wraps his arms around you as he goes for a short nap. "i'll clean the mess up in a bit, don't worry."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) he won't admit it; he doesn't have to because you eventually figure it out. xavier loves edging you, slowing down his thrusts right as you're about to cum, so he can string your orgasm along and have you seeing stars. he loves the way your eyes roll back when he starts pounding into you again, his headboard slamming against the wall as he fills you up. "not yet, baby- just a little more. i promise i'll make you feel so good."

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he's not that experienced, of course not. how could he be when he's saved all his firsts for you? that doesn't matter, though; he makes up for what he lacks by being a quick learner. the first time he fucks you, it's nice and slow, has you craving for more, and the minute you manage to moan, "please," and "faster", he picks up the pace, drilling his dick into your cunt and swallowing your whimpers as his lips latch onto yours. "like this, princess?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) he loves spoon fucking you. the number of times he's been cuddling you, and you readjust (innocently, of course), rubbing your ass across his dick one too many times. he slips his cock out of his pyjama pants, grinding into you to let you know he's in the mood as he pulls your panties aside. he rubs his cock against you, coating his tip in your slick before he pushes his dick into you inch by inch. he fucks you like this most nights, one hand wrapped around your stomach, the other squeezing your tit as he trails kisses across your nape. "so good- 'm gonna cum."

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he's not serious during sex, but he isn't goofy, either. he's laid back and mostly focuses on your needs, chasing your orgasm, angling his hips just right until he finds that one spot that has you sobbing. "does that feel good?"

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's well groomed, it's not bushy. it's too much work taking care of it every day, so he shaves every other time he showers. better for you, since when he's balls deep inside you, you can feel his stubble against your clit, and fuck does it feel good. he'll shave the minute you ask him to, no questions asked. "it's not too hairy, is it?"

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) he's the romantic type, when both of you have time, he'll set up candles, greet you with flowers at the door, and carry you to bed bridal style before gently laying you down. he'll trail kisses down your body, tongue edging your clit until you're begging for him, and that initial first thrust has both of you moaning. "let me make love to you tonight, princess."

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) he doesn't do it often and doesn't see the need to. he'd much rather stay horny, letting his balls fill up, saving it all for you so when he finally has his way with you, you're looking all cute and exhausted, leaking his cum. "you look so pretty like this, taking every inch. yeah? you feel good?"

➵ k for kink (one or more of his kinks) he's very vanilla to begin with. mostly because he doesn't know what he wants. after a while though, you suspect he does have a few kinks. one of them being- he has a breeding kink. the amount of times he's thought out loud in front of you, telling you how pretty you'd look with a baby bump. and you definitely don't miss when he makes sure no cum leaks out of you once he's done; he'll either stuff you full of his cock or his fingers, falling asleep with either still inside. also, he loves cockwarming, and nothing will convince you otherwise. he loves the warmth your pussy provides for his dick, and the way he has the best naps when he's buried inside you. "just a little longer…"

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) your apartment or his, he doesn't mind. as far as xavier's concerned, it's free reign. though, he does enjoy bending you over his balcony, being an s-class senior hunter means he has the paycheck to afford a penthouse. he'll slide your panties to the side on the days you wake up before him to enjoy the morning sun, and he'll nudge your legs apart before angling himself into you, raising your thigh over the glass fence so his tip kisses your cervix. you love the thrill of anyone seeing you and the added security that he won't let you fall. "so tight, you like the risk that much?"

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) honestly? touch his dick and find out. he's not an overly horny individual, but just one touch from you, one sultry look, and he's ready to go. towering over you as you shoot him a smirk, peeling his shirt off and discarding it in the corner as he pulls you across the bed to him by your ankle, "stop teasing me."

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) princess is his favourite, it's the one he uses most often when he's balls deep inside you, hand underneath your shirt squeezing your tit, lips trailing kisses along your neck and leaving goosebumps in their wake as he pumps his cum into you. he calls you baby occasionally, but he prefers calling your name, whispering it alongside praises of how good you feel, when he's fucking into you.

note: if you know his backstory you'd understand the first nickname, i am on my knees sobbing and begging

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he's okay with either, doesn't have a prefrence because he prefers filling you up with his cock. though, his dick does twitch when you offer to give him a blow job, and he makes sure to return the favour. he adores it when you grab his hair and force his face closer to your cunt. "enjoying yourself?"

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) this one is obvious, he's slow when he fucks you, lazily humping you from behind as he holds you close. he loves the way you squirm beside him, grinding on his cock, signalling for him to speed up. he'll roll his hips into yours, letting his dick hit all the right spots, teasing you as he slowly pulls out, leaving just the tip in. "begging for more, baby? tell me how you want it."

➵ q for quickies (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) he's ready to go if you are; all you have to do is palm him through his pants and give him that look that says, 'i need you to fuck me, and i need you to do it now.' he'll blink, before taking your hand and leading you to the closest secluded place before he's balls deep inside you, "couldn't wait until we got home, princess?"

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) if it makes you happy, he's up for experimenting when it's something you're interested in, and it isn't unreasonable. he just can't find it in himself to say no when you put your hand on his thigh and give him those eyes, it couldn't hurt to give in to your whims, "if that's what you want, my love."

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) he definitely has stamina, not breaking a sweat as he snaps his hips into you, slowing down as he lowers his chest to meet yours, hand on your head to hold you in place as he sets a brutal pace that pushes you over the edge. that doesn't change the fact that he loves his sleep, and as you come down from your high, you realise that. you're still twitching at the way he's lazily humping you, cum leaking out of you as he snores softly. he tries his best to last longer than you, letting you get your release first, but the odd times he doesn't, he'll grind into you until you finish, twitching from how sensitive he is as he lets out hushed moans next to your ear.

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he owns just one- a vibrator he got off the internet by accident, having thought it could massage his fingers, and you couldn't hold in your laughter when he showed it to you, confused as to why it didn't do its job properly. when you were done explaining that it was a sex toy and what it was used for, you enjoyed the lost look on his face and the initial realisation of what it was until he got an idea. you moved back, suddenly scared at what his smug expression implied, "who knew you'd like it this much, princess? look at how wet you are- good thing we found a use for it, hm?"

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) xavier is unfair, and not in the way you'd think. he has no idea the effect he has on you, hands on your thighs underneath tables when the two of you are on dates, palm on the small of your lower back as you walk the streets, hands finding yours, tracing his thumbs on the back of your hand when he's looking something up on his phone, and those eyes, fuck those eyes really did you in. you're horny 24/7 around him, hyperaware he's there, and that he's yours, you end up asking him to help you. "how did you get this wet, baby? i didn't do anything this time."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he's not that vocal; he's on the quiet side, but he knows how to make up for it. the initial moan he lets out when he's slipping his dick in, inch by inch, is music to your ears. he'll bury his face in your neck or place his head beside yours so you can hear his soft groans.

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) he will listen. you think it's the best thing about him. you have one problem, little or big, you have one tiny complaint, and it's fixed, he'll ask you what you need, and it's done. you want him to touch you more often, want him to spend more time with you, want him to do the dishes when you've had a rough day, it's done, no questions asked. you think he's the sweetest for this, he's definitely a golden retriever boyfriend.

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) he's not the girthiest, but his dick is long and hits all the right spots. you do realise one day though, that his cock bends slightly to the left, no wonder he has you seeing stars. his v-line is to die for; you love it when he wears grey sweats, the band of his briefs slightly visible as he stretches, and his light blonde happy trail leading down to…

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) he's more into the romantic aspect of the relationship, having lived as long as he has, he's just happy he has you by his side. but if you tease him… grinding as you sit on his lap, your soaked panties and his pants between the two of you, and he watches you trying to get off, it's all over for you. "you know i can't say no to you."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards)immediately, he is knocked out, feeling safe in your arms as you trace circles into his back and rub your hands through his hair, he's sleeping like a rock. the one time the two of you forgot to say 'i love you's' to each other before bed, you had muttered those three words when you had realised, and your half-hearted strokes across his shoulder stopped when he mumbled them back, still asleep.

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

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#i LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS #XAVIER MY BABY 😭😭

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micasaessakusa · 6 months ago

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MY. GAWD. Missmaam???!!!?! The way you write Rafayel??????!?!?!

rafayel's nsfw alphabet

➵ pairing: rafayel x female!reader

➵ word count: 3.3k

➵ genre: nsfw

➵ warnings: minors dni. this post is pure smut, no plot here. slight exhibitionism, sex toys, edging, blindfolding, handcuffs, overstimulation, somnophilia, praise kink, bondage.

➵ summary: pretty self explanatory, the nsfw alphabet on your favourite boy.

➵ xavier's ver. | zayne’s ver.

➵ masterlist (requests are open)

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

notes: this one's for you @jaiden-zhou, i was gonna take a break and post these later, but your reblog asking for rafayel and zayne's version meant i got to work right away. hope you enjoy <3333

credit to @multi-fandom-imagine for the template

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

➵ a for aftercare (what is he like after sex?) he loves talking after sex. most would get tired after the extracurricular activities, you included, but not rafayel. he loves picking your brain about anything and everything. still semi inside you, lazily thrusting into you as he empties the last of his cum inside you, trailing kisses across your face as he asks you where you'd want to go if the two of you went travelling. he won't admit it, ever- but he does it because he's realised it's when you're the most honest, spent and cheeks still flushed after your orgasms, still delirious after he's fucked the living daylights out of you. he will also never admit, he doesn't want to fall asleep and running his mouth makes sure of that, he doesn't want to risk you leaving him again. "what do you think about the city of love? i'd love to fuck you in paris."

➵ b for body part (his favourite body part of his and also his partner's) he adores your body, you know this, but his absolute favourite part of you is your eyes. no matter how many lifetimes he's spent waiting for you, your eyes are always the same, soft, shining and focused only on him. he loves fucking you, starting off slow as his pelvis collides with your clit and has you seeing stars, he loves the way your gaze focuses on him when he's thrusting into you, pulling out ever so slightly only to snap his hips back into yours. and fuck, does he love the way he gets to watch your eyes roll back. his favourite part about himself is his dick, pretty self-explanatory. he loves the way you tell him his cock is perfect as he fucks into you, pressing the rough of his thumb against your clit as you throw your head back. "you look so pretty like this, drooling all cause of my cock."

➵ c for cum (anything to do with cum, basically) he may have asked if he could use your cum as paint once, promising he'll never let anyone else see his creation apart from you. rafayel loves shoving his cum back inside you when it leaks out, plugging you up with his fingers as he makes sure you don't waste a single drop, ignoring the way you look like absolute sin with tears of overstimulation in your eyes. though, he can't ignore the way his dick hardens again at the way you glow after you've orgasmed, thighs wet with slick and looking so inviting, "one more round? come on, i know you can cum again- do it for me."

➵ d for dirty secret (self-explanatory, a dirty secret of his) if you hadn't guessed it already, rafayel lives for validation- your validation. he'll never admit it; he doesn't want to bruise his ego by telling you how much he likes hearing you whimper and moan. he loves when he first puts his dick inside you, grabbing the hand that reaches out to place itself on his stomach as you struggle to take him in, and he raises that same hand above your head so he can plug your slick pussy with his cock. "ah, ah, ah- you wanted this, can't back out now. instead of trying to stop, why don't you tell me how good my dick feels, hm?"

➵ e for experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he's doing?) he knows his way around, he's watched enough porn when he was researching for an art project of his. the real thing is different though, and he realises that when you're under him, spreading your legs for him, and he finds no matter how hard he tries, you're pussy is just too good. the first round is always quick, but he knows how to work his fingers and his tongue, making sure you cum more times than he can count before he's ready to go again, forcing your legs apart as he raises his top and bites down on it, watching how his dick enters you. "lost for words? why don't you start off by telling me how good i feel?"

➵ f for favourite position (this goes without saying. will probably include a visual) this is a hard one for him, but if he had to choose it would definitely be cow girl. the sight of you riding his dick so well, struggling to take him in, sweat lining your bodies as he grips your tit and watches the other one bounce. he loves the way you lower your chest to his after a few minutes, legs aching, letting him know he can take over. he manages to hit all your sweet spots in this position too, and there's no escape for you as he wraps his arms around you, angling his hips to fuck into you, making sure you feel his tip against your cervix. "tired already? if you wanted me to take over, my love- all you had to do was ask."

➵ g for goofy (is he more serious in the moment, or is he humorous, etc) he knows how to be serious, but if there's a queef, he'll laugh. how can you expect him not to? that, and he likes catching you off gaurd, because when you join him, giggling at his antics, he snaps his hips into yours, setting a brutal pace that has you struggling to catch your breath. "what? you not gonna laugh, anymore? no? didn't think so."

➵ h for hair (how well groomed is he, does the carpet match the drapes) he's always well-groomed. always clean-shaven and there's never a stubble that gives you carpet burn, because he likes to stay on top of it. he wants you to focus on the feel of his dick inside you and nothing else when he's pounding your wet cunt. he treats his body like a temple, basically. "i wanna look good for myself. it has nothing to do with you." (it does.)

➵ i for intimacy (how is he during the moment, romantic aspect…) rafayel acts like he doesn't care about being romantic, but he does. when he's not salty about how you make him wait, he gives you the best treatment, always eating you out first, fingering you until you can't take anymore, begging for him to fill you up with his cock, which he does, rubbing your clit as he rolls his hips into yours, making sure you remember the way his dick feels buried deep inside you. he always makes sure you finish, and he likes to admire the artwork in front of him one he's done, you laying flushed beneath him, lips parted, breathing heavily and still twitching. "you look so pretty when i'm through with you. hey, can i draw you like this? no? just one quick sketch, please…"

➵ j for jacking off (masturbation headcanon) you make him horny 24/7, even when you're not around. he'll be in his studio, casually painting and lounging when you pop into his head, and his mind will drift to all the times you've been underneath him. by the time you've come home to him, he's a needy mess, flushed, dick in his hand already leaking precum as he begs you to help him out because he's been edging himself for hours, waiting for you. "please, my love. i need you."

➵ k for kink (one or more of their kinks) what kinks does he not have? he has a huge praise kink, that's for sure. loves it when you get vocal and tell him how good he feels, how he's too deep and that it's too much, he loves watching you struggle to take him all in, slamming the last few inches in just so he can hear you sob. he's also a huge fan of overstimulation; he loves pushing you past your limits, watching you become a mess as he squeezes out another orgasm with his fingers. he's into bondage too, something about the idea of you being all tied up, looking pretty for him, helpless to what he has in store for you. he's a bit of a switch, too- he loves you taking control when you've had enough of his teasing just so he can roll you over and force you to take his dick. he also adores watching you use him, making yourself feel good with his cock. "you gonna cum, baby? feel good? who knew you'd love my dick this much?"

➵ l for location (favourite places to do the do) he's a bit of an exhibitionist, reckons it comes with the job description of being an artist. so, he likes it anywhere as long as it's you. he has a list of places he'd love to dick you down at, but his favourite would be his art studio. you're his muse, what gives his paintings colour and life, and he loves spreading you across his desk, raising your hips off the table so he can snap his hips into you only to imagine the same scenario as he starts his new piece. he also loves the beach; something about being close to home, the waves around your feet and hands as he bends you over, lifting you by the arm so you're body's flush against his, calloused fingers reaching for your clit. he loves the way he can feel the water against his thighs as you throw your head back against his shoulder, and he can watch your lovely fucked out expression. "told you the sea was warm during the summer. having fun, baby?"

➵ m for motivation (what turns him on, gets him going) just thinking about it gets him horny; you know this already. it doesn't matter where the two of you are, he will borrow your hole to empty his load, whining and teasing you until you give in, finding the nearest secluded place before pulling his pants down and sliding your panties to the side. you have this effect on him, he can't control himself, and he blames you for it, something he lets you know often as he fucks you from behind, grabbing your tit in one hand, arm under your shoulder and across your chest to lock you in place so you can't run, "it's all your fault for turning me on. that means it's your responsibility to help me out."

➵ n for nicknames (what are his favourite pet names for you? what does he call you when you're both alone?) he calls you 'my love.' a lot- something about your heart being his. he likes calling you his, repeating the words "mine, mine, mine." as he's fucking into you before his lips latch onto yours, swallowing your moans and desperate cries. he does like to use babe when he's teasing you or being mean as payback for you making him wait, rubbing your swollen clit, grabbing the wrist that reaches out to stop him as he rolls his hips into yours, "come on babe, i know you have more left in you. cum one more time for me- yeah?"

➵ o for oral (preference in giving or receiving, skills, etc) he loves receiving but will never pester you for it. he'll ask, but if you say no, then so be it. when you do agree, though, he'll shove himself as deep as he can go, hissing as his tip kisses the back of your throat, running his fingers through your hair before wiping away the stray tear going down the side of your temple, smiling down at you as he reaches over to plug his fingers in your pussy, stretching you out as you choke on his dick. "don't cry, my love. save your tears for when i fill you up. not long now, i know you can do it."

➵ p for pace (is he fast or rough? slow or sensual?) he's not slow, but he is sensual. setting a brutal pace that has you falling off the edge and clenching your thighs as your orgasm hits you, before slowing down his thrusts and taking his time, letting you ride out your high before he's fucking into you again, squeezing your ass and moving you up and down his dick so his cock reaches the deepest it can inside you. "you're mine, yeah? fuck, you're so tight. 'm gonna cum inside you."

➵ q for quickie (his opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc) yes, the answer is yes anytime that word is used in a sentence. he'll wait for you to initiate unless you make him horny, which is more often than not- he loves subtly teasing you, hands finding their way into your panties underneath tables, fingers tracing your hips, feather-light touches across your thighs to let you know he needs you, leading you to wherever's semi-decent before he's shoving your clothes aside, bending you over and kicking your legs apart so he can fuck you until he's satisfied. "you're gonna have to cover again with thomas for me, babe. this is all you, you know? wearing those thigh highs- thinking i wouldn't react."

➵ r for risk (is he game to experiment, does he take risks, etc) definitely game to experiment, he adores finding new ways to pull reactions out of you. the first time he tried fluffy handcuffs and a blindfold on you, he swore it was the hardest he'd ever been. he was in awe, starstruck, watching you twitch at the slightest touch, looking all pretty and helpless. you were at his mercy, and it made his cock twitch. the wait was worth it, though- after he was done using his fingers to push you over the edge enough times, he lined himself up with your pussy, and hissed at the way he slid right in. buried completely inside you, he held your hips up as he started fucking you, realising you were louder when your sight was covered. "who knew you'd like being used? since you enjoy it so much, why don't we do this more often?"

➵ s for stamina (how many rounds can he go for, how long does he last) you usually lose track after the 7th to 8th round, mind blank after he's pulled another orgasm from you, towering over your spent body, a smug smile on his face as he pulls his dick out of you, slapping it against your slick pussy a few times, before shoving it back in completely, with no warning. he will quite literally fuck you until you pass out. "come on, babe. keep your eyes open, and on me- i know you can go one more round."

➵ t for toy (does he own toys? does he use them? partner or himself?) he owns quite a few, most are in the first drawer of his bedside table, the others are scattered across his mansion. he likes buying them to see how you react, keeping the ones you enjoy the most. his favourites are the ones that focus on your clit, he loves fucking you when he uses them, feeling your pussy spasm around him as you cum again. he does own a pussy pocket and uses it often when you're away. also, he's definitely asked if he can have one moulded to the shape of your cunt specifically.

➵ u for unfair (how much does he like to tease) he's very unfair, often teasing you as payback for all the years you've made him wait for you, thumb hovering over your clit as he stops you from orgasming, halting his thrusts as he watches you try and grind against his dick. he turns your head to him and kisses you, mouth swallowing your complaints and sobs as he watches you twitch from overstimulation. he breaks the kiss only to fuck into you nice and slow, building up the pace before he's slamming into you from behind, arms wrapping around you when you try to crawl away from him with how sensitive you are. "what now, my love? you can't move, poor thing. try and escape me this time."

➵ v for volume (how loud is he? what sounds does he make?) he loves being vocal, letting you know just how good you feel as he manages to stuff his dick in your tight cunt, tip kissing your cervix as you double over at the feeling of being so full. he'll pull you right back up against his chest, not letting you catch your breath as he starts fucking into you, fingers flicking your hardened nipples, hands squeezing your tits as he moans in your ear. doesn't help that he sounds like pure sin, and his moans alone have you tightening around his cock. "fuuuck, you have no idea how good you feel. you're so wet, baby… feeling good? yeah? i know i am."

➵ w for wildcard (random headcanon for him) you agree to it after he gives you the pros and cons, and find that he uses it every chance he gets. you didn't expect this out of him, but this man really wants to fuck you in your sleep. just something about the idea of having his way with you when you're not conscious. that, and he gets horny during the night and doesn't wanna wake you just to fuck you. he'd much rather finger you until you're ready to take him, stirring in your sleep but not fully awake as he rubs his dick along your pussy, using your slick to lube himself up before he's lining himself up and shoving his dick in, inch by inch. he'll rolls his hips experimentally, and moan softly in your ear. he waits for you to wake up, dazed and disoriented as your brain catches up, before he slams his dick completely into you, not giving your confused mind the chance to register your arousal as he starts rubbing your clit, teasing an orgasm out of you the minute you're up. "there she is. how'd you like your wake-up call, babe?"

➵ x for x-ray (what's going on in those pants of his) his dick is perfect, no, really. it is the most gorgeous dick you have ever seen, not a hair in sight, and his tip is the prettiest pink colour, all flushed from how turned on he gets because of you. he's circumcised, hates the idea of his penis ever getting dirty or smelling, that- and he reckons it makes it easier for you to suck him off. he has length and girth, not too big that it hurts but enough that you can feel him in your gut when he's inside you.

➵ y for yearning (how high is his sex drive) very high, no matter how many times he fucks you, he can never get enough. rafayel loves the feel of your pussy, maybe more than the feel of a paintbrush in his hand when he has newfound motivation to finish a project, and he enjoys having his way with you whenever he wants. if he's ready to go, it means you'll soon follow. you can't refuse him when his touch trails across your bare skin, hands down your panties and fingers shoved two digits deep inside you, teasing and edging you until you give in to his need to fuck. "you can't blame me- it's your fault for looking so pretty, all fucked up like this. 'm gonna mark you up, let everyone know you're mine."

➵ z for zzz (how quickly does he fall asleep afterwards) he wants to fall asleep right after he's done with you, having spent most of his energy fucking you until you're leaking his cum all over the bed sheets, but he likes staying awake until you pass out, idle talk lulling you to slumber as he brushes your hair out your face and behind your ear, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest before he pulls you into his arms and rests his cheek against your tits. "you're asleep already? …i love you."

➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵ ➵

The following content is protected under copyright laws. do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own.

#uGH I LOVE THIS #RAFAYEL THE MAN THAT YOU ARE

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micasaessakusa · 7 months ago

Text

oKAY FUCKIN HELL

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under The Stars ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

♡︎ pairing: Xavier x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎cw:unprotected sex, tent sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, pussy job, cum swallowing

♡︎word count: 3.9k

♡︎synopsis: What happens when you share a tent with your crush? The story starts where the memory Precious Bonfire ends.

♡︎a/n: I wrote this during my ovulation week. Also, I went over this once, so if you see any mistakes, no you don't.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for reading and helping me with this!

banner by @cafekitsune

Xavier looks up from the game card “Ah, I figured out what I want my payment to be.” He smiles softly at you and hands you the card, ��Tell me when you’re overwhelmed next time.”

A little confused, you absent-mindedly take the card that’s not even yours. “That doesn’t sound like a payment.”

“Well, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Think of something else!” You say with playfulness in your voice. Of course you don’t mind accepting to “pay him off” in this way, but he’s been so helpful and resourceful today, that you’d feel bad for asking for more assistance.

He just shakes his head and stands up from his seat in the camping van, and walks away. End of discussion, I guess.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

You spent a few minutes sitting alone in the van, decompressing, but also thinking of ways to return the favor. Seriously, what’s a good way to show him your gratitude? You know he’s not doing this because he expects something in return. Xavier is a genuine and sweet soul, someone who is reliable (except in the kitchen) with a soothing presence. He never seems overwhelmed, even when he lights his oven on fire.

You sigh wistfully. You were hoping he was going to say “Let’s go on a date!” or “Can I sleep in your tent?” or maybe “You know, the front of my pants is feeling a little tight, could you lend me a hand –“ you blush, hiding your face in your hands. If only.

You glance at your phone to look at the time. You decide you’ve spent enough time away from everyone, letting your mind wander – how big is it? – okay, you really need to focus and go back to your colleagues.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

The rest of the evening went uneventful – you hung out with your friends, cleaned up the mess and then took a relaxing shower. Somewhere between cleaning up and the shower, you swiped a pack of chocolate covered strawberries from the mafia game winner. You wanted those strawberries the moment your eyes landed on them in that pile of snacks. And you’ll buy them later and give them back, so technically you’re borrowing them!

Besides, you want to give them to Xavier as a small thank you. He deserves more than this, but it will do for now.

Anyway, after the refreshing shower, you’re looking around the campsite. Most of your colleagues are cozying up in their tents, only a few still talking and drinking outside. Where’s Xavier?

You saw him earlier hanging out with others, but now… your eyes land on his figure, lounging by a tree away from all the tents.

You approach him. “There’s no way I’m letting you sleep outside.”

Xavier, not opening his eyes, says “I have no problem sleeping outside.”

“Well, as the captain of this group, I very much do.” You extend your arm towards him “C’mon, you can sleep in my tent.”

He opens his eyes as he hears the offer. “Are you – “

You grab his hand, “Yes, the tent is big enough for the two of us.” You suddenly remember that you only brought one blanket, but this summer night is nice and breezy so it shouldn’t be an issue.

Hesitant at first, Xavier nods and gets up while holding your hand. He moves his backpack to your tent and goes to take a shower, giving you time to change into pajama shorts and tank top; not really appropriate in this situation, but who cares!

As you spread out the blanket over the sleeping mat and two pillows, (yes, two, the other one was meant for your knees), you sit there waiting for him and then you realize – wow, it’s kinda fucking cold in here!

You were so focused on being a good captain and taking care of everyone that it completely slipped your mind that you should pack warmer pajamas and maybe a sleeping bag; it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, nights are always colder in the woods.

As you wonder if the blanket will be warm enough, from the corner of your eye you notice Xavier approaching the tent. He’s wearing a loose white t-shirt and gray cotton shorts. You move a little to make room for him, and when he crouches to step inside, your eyes are glued to his muscular legs. The staring makes you miss the way Xavier’s eyes take in your figure, the smooth skin of your thighs and your pebbled nipples poking underneath your top.

You quickly shift your gaze to his face; he’s looking around the tent. Suddenly you’re nervous. It hits you that you’ll be sleeping next to Xavier in this small ass tent. You feel an awkward tension, so you say “I hope this is enough room for you! I don’t have one more blanket but I do have an extra pillow!”

Xavier chuckles, and gives you a reassuring smile. “It’s good enough for me. I just hope you’re comfortable with this.”

“Of course I am!” You say very convincingly. As you nervously shift, your thigh grazes the box of strawberries. Right, I almost forgot! You take them and offer the box to him. “Here, a small token of my gratitude.”

He eyes the fruit, not taking them immediately. “Where did you get those?”

“The winner gave them to me.”

“Really?”

“I stole them.” You say with a shy smile. Some things are just impossible to hide from him.

He chuckles, “I’ll take them, but only if you have some as well.”

You agree and he opens the box, placing it between you two.

You’re the first one to try them, and you’re so pleased that your little crime paid off. And by Xavier’s little mm! you know that he enjoys the sweetness of chocolate and the strawberries as well. You sit there for a while, eating and chatting about whatever; mostly about the books he’s been reading and the new game both of you started playing.

You don’t feel that tired anymore. It’s probably the shower that washed away all the fatigue of the day. And the adrenaline from talking, not only talking but sharing a tent and then later sleeping next to your crush. You’re actually so excited you could run laps around the campsite, but at the same time so flustered you don’t know what to do with yourself.

After you take another bite of the fruit, you notice that Xavier’s eyes are lingering on your lips? No, your cheek?

His hand slowly goes towards your face, and you stand still, unsure of what he wants. His ring finger gently wipes the corner of your mouth.

He smiles, “You had some chocolate there.”

When he’s about to lick his finger, you joke “Hey! You’re taking my chocolate!”

He stops for a second, looks at the finger, then at you. “You’re right. Do you want it back?” He asks with that teasing glint in his eyes as he holds the digit in front of your lips.

You’re stunned for a moment, trying to read the situation. Does he really want you to lick it off?

Okay, you can play along; with your eyes on his, you start to lick the chocolate. Xavier’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips slightly part as he watches you lick and suck his finger clean. It made his shorts tighter, and he hopes that you don’t notice the outline of his erection on his gray shorts.

And you’re so frustrated at yourself because of how wet this little interaction made you.

When you’re done, with a light blush on his cheeks, he pulls back his hand and clears his throat. “You’re really good at this.”

You only sheepishly smile and continue the conversation like nothing happened.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

“You didn’t bring a sleeping bag?” Xavier asks as you as you both get ready to sleep. It’s gotten late, it’s dead silent as everyone around you is sleeping or trying to fall asleep. You’re surprised that Xavier managed to stay awake this long.

You admit that you forgot the fact that it’s colder at night here than back in the city. “But the blanket should be big enough for both of us.” You offer to go ask someone for one more blanket, but he refuses and says that he’s worried about you being cold.

His eyes scan over your barely covered body “I can borrow you my hoodie. But it smells like campfire.”

“I’m gonna to be fine. Let’s just go to sleep.” You reassure him (and yourself). With that, both of you lie down, your backs turned, and cover yourself with a blanket that is not enough for two people.

Xavier lets you take most of it, but tries to not make it obvious, so he holds onto it, only his back covered.

Ten, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes pass, you don’t know. You just can’t fall asleep. Not only because your ass is freezing, but because he is lying right next to you. And judging by his deep breathing, he’s asleep. Of course he is. You turn on your back and stare at the stars peeking through the mesh screen of the tent. You don’t want to move around too much or step outside because you don’t want to wake him. He’s had an exhausting day too.

You turn on your side, facing his back. You can’t see much in the dark tent, the only light source being the moon and the stars, and faint fairy lights outside. But it’s visible enough to admire his light fluffy hair and how wide his back is. You crave to trace your fingers over his shirt, through his hair… you completely took over the blanket!

You cover his figure, but then you’re a little exposed. With a sigh, you move closer to him as quietly as possible. Now, time to turn around in the same manner. But, Xavier is already switching to his other side, turning to you, and you’re so close, almost nose to nose and he opens his eyes.

You’re holding in your breath, freezing in place. “Sorry.” You whisper. “I just wanted to cover you.”

His sleepy eyes stare at yours, then at your lips. It takes him a second to register your words. “You’re still awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you cold?”

You take second before answering “Maybe.”

“Turn around.”

You do as you’re told expecting him to roll you into the blanket like a burrito and then you’d feel really bad. Those thoughts evaporate when you feel his warm arm slip around your waist, pulling your back against his strong, yet soft, chest, while his lower body keeps a respectful distance.

His breath tickles the skin of your neck, making you shiver. “Is this okay?”

You only muster a squeaky ‘mhm’, and then he falls silent again, with his face nuzzled against your neck. You close your eyes, and try to count sheep.

One sheep…two sheep… your arm gets uncomfortable so you place it over his that’s resting on your waist, the contact making his hand search your hand, entangling his fingers with yours, and then pulling you in a tighter embrace.

Exhaling a shuttering breath, you continue… three sheep… you’ve been keeping your legs pin straight this whole time and they’re starting to feel stiff and sore. But if you bend them, they’ll be exposed to cold air, but if you curl up you’ll be pressing your butt against Xavier’s crotch, or at least lower belly.

Four sheep…

The gentle whisper of your name against your ear makes you yelp. You thought he fell asleep.

Xavier repeats your name, and you can hear the smirk on his lips “Position yourself however you please. I want you to be comfortable.”

You exhale a breath you’ve been holding. “Okay.”

You move into the fetus position, making yourself as comfortable as possible, warm in his embrace, your bottom keeping an awkward distance from his lower half. You bite your bottom lip and try to regulate your breathing. He can probably feel how fast your heart is beating. You think how it’s unfair that he can feel how flustered you are.

You feel his slow heartbeat, but you can’t see his feverish red cheeks.

“Is it better now?” He asks.

“Yeah, it’s just that...” It’s just that your legs and buttocks are still cold.

When you don’t finish your sentence, he nudges your neck with his nose. “Your legs are cold.”

The hand on your waist moves and his fingers lightly glide over your upper thigh. When you don’t protest, he starts caressing, warming up your skin. The contact makes you hot between your legs, making you unconsciously rub your thighs and arch your back, your butt backing up against his front.

You immediately flinch, jolting your middle forward outside the covers. “Sorry.” You mumble, your cheeks burning in embarrassment, your body staying in that awkward position.

Xavier can’t help but laugh at the position you’re in. He rubs your shoulder in an attempt to console you. “It’s okay. I don’t mind”

It takes you a few seconds to muster up the courage to go back under the cover, closing the distance between your bodies, letting him spoon you.

You feel like you could melt in his arms; he’s so warm, smells like fresh linen and herbal hair shampoo. Even though you’re still nervous, your body is able to relax and press further against him, unintentionally grinding your soft bottom against his quickly hardening length.

Your pussy clenches as you feel his clothed hard dick against you. He doesn’t say anything, but shift a little further from you.

You don’t know if it’s the weariness, the horniness, or the boldness (if you can call it that), that makes you whisper. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” And you close the distance again, this time slowly sliding your ass against him to prove your point.

A shuddering breath leaves his lips, as he starts moving at your pace. He shifts to rest on his elbow and his hand moves up to cup your cheek, and you turn to face him, your hips halting the movement.

He gazes into your eyes and nudges the tip of your nose with his. He softly breathes your name and his soft warm lips leave a feather light kiss on yours. He waits for your reaction with those puppy eyes that always make you weak.

With the hand that was under you, you hold the side of his face and pull him into a soft kiss. Your lips softly graze and nip as Xavier adjusts his body, elbows resting on either side of your head, his chest resting against yours, but his pelvis is hovering against yours.

You decide to be the one to take the next step; fingers of one hand run through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your tongue glosses his bottom lip and slipping inside, tasting his. The other hand pushes down his lower back, and he takes the hint.

You gasp into the kiss as his dick grinds right between your clothed folds, grazing your clit just right. Your cheeks and core are burning as Xavier starts rutting waster and harder, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your chest. Both of you are panting between kisses, suppressing moans and whines.

He breathes against your lips “We should stop.” When he notices a flash of disappointment on your face, he adds, “It’s so easy to hear everything here.”

You nod. “Yeah, you’re right.” You gulp and take in deep breaths. Your tent is the furthest from the rest, but still close enough to hear if someone is getting it on.

He rolls over to his side, still facing you. His eyes take in your features as his fingertips graze over them. He pulls you in by the back of your head into a slow kiss. Your lips taste each other, tongues licking, his teeth playfully nibbling your bottom lip.

The hand on the back of your hand travels over your jaw to hold your chin, and a deep sigh leaves his lips. He whispers, “It’s so hard to hold back.” and the continues tasting your plump lips.

Those words make your panties wetter than they were. You throw your leg over his hips and soon you’re straddling him, and his arms envelop you, pressing your body flush against his, his hips bucking up to meet yours once again.

But you crave more contact and so does Xavier. At the same time, Xavier pulls down his shorts and you take off yours. A whimper escapes your lips as you sit back down on his rock hard dick, your sexes only separated by thin fabric.

He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss, his hands grabbing your ass, moving your hips in the same rhythm with his. The friction feels so good, too good. Your pussy is creaming so much, making a mess of your panties and his boxer briefs. Then he shifts his hips a little and his cockhead starts hitting and rubbing your clit over and over, and you’re mewling and panting into the sloppy kiss.

He smirks against your lips. “Honey, I need you to stay quiet. I don’t want anyone else to hear you like this.”

The heat pools in the bottom of belly. “Xavier, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Is my little bunny feeling good?” He pants, and by the twitching of his cock, you think he’s close too.

You hold back a disappointed whine when he puts a distance between your hips, but then you feel him push down his boxers freeing his throbbing dick. He pulls your panties to the side and brings your hips back down, your dripping pussy lips sliding against his thick length, and he immediately locks your lips with his, swallowing your moan.

He has you in a tight embrace, one hand on the plump flesh of your ass and the other on the back of your neck. His lips leave a wet trail from your lips over your jaw to the shell of your ear, and you listen to his restrained pants and grunts.

His hot breath fans over your ear “Let’s come together.” He pulls up both of your shirts a bit, and you feel his hard ab muscles tensing against your skin.

You can only nod as the tip starts hitting your clit again, and in a few seconds you’re coming undone on top of him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.

Xavier follows shortly after, his cum spilling over both of your bellies.

You take a moment to calm down and you notice that he’s still as hard. You come up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are veiled with so much lust and craving. “I – “

“Please, fuck me.” You need more.

With those three magic words, he’s on top of you again, his shirt and the blanket disregarded somewhere in the corner. He pushes your tank top over your breasts, his hot lips latching onto your nipple while his fingers play with the other one, while his cock is sliding with ease between your slippery folds.

You know that he wants to prep you more, but you feel like you’ve been edged for too long, your hole clenching around nothing.

Xavier’s breath hitches against your nipple when you reach down and wrap your hand around his member, feeling how long and thick he is (he’s longer than your thought).

He comes up and holds your gaze as you tease the tip against your soaking entrance “I need you now.”

His hand switches with yours, slowly easing into you, his gaze never leaving yours. He swallows thickly, and cursing under his breath as he feels your walls clench around him.

And you’re a mess under him, biting your lip to contain your moans and whines, but your pussy is already fluttering around his length, second orgasm building up.

When he’s finally buried to the hilt, he rests his body on top of yours, neither of you caring about the slippery cum between you, if anything it spurs you on even more.

He slowly starts rolling his hips, his lips leaving open mouth kisses over your collar bone and your neck. You fingers find purchase in his hair and nails lightly scrape the skin over his taut back muscles. In your daze you take a moment to admire his strong back and then you move your hand from his back to grab his biceps. Fuck, you wish there was more light here.

Xavier’s lips lock with yours in a sloppy kiss, his tip grazing your sweet spot with every thrust while his fingertips rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. His voice is raspy from all the strangled groans, “You’re squeezing me so hard, princess. Are you gonna come for me?”

You only manage a small moan in response, and you don’t even care if you’re loud. And the wet smacking of his pelvis against your creamy cunt is already giving you away.

You barely give any warning as suddenly another orgasm crashes over you, his free hand covering your mouth. He coos in your ear that’s right and you’re so pretty and sweet names that you barely register as you whimper against his hand and your pussy spasms around his cock.

As you come down from your high, he picks up the pace and soon you notice him twitching inside you, his hips stuttering and his pants becoming shallower.

He murmurs “Where do you want me?”

You fight back the urge to say ‘inside’, you want him to fill you up so bad, but now is not the place to make that kind of mess.

Still, you don’t want spill it outside. “Use my mouth.”

His face burns and his dick painfully throbs at those words. You rest on your elbows as he pulls out and straddles your waist, his hand resting on your head.

You let him guide the tip past your lips, and you swirl your tongue around it tasting your mixed juices. He swallows a moan as you take him in deeper; swollen lips enveloping his cock, tongue swirling, tasting him, and grazing his pulsing veins, and he can’t help the pang of jealousy that hits him with how good you’re at this.

Pushing those thoughts back, he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re taking me so good.”

He starts thrusting, unable to hold back much longer. He whispers between pants “Tap my arm if I go too hard.”

You hum against his length, focused on relaxing your throat as his cockhead starts hitting more and more with each thrust and stutter of his hips.

You feel him throb hard in your mouth, and his hand travels under your chin. You hear him demand with a strangled groan “Look at me.”

Your eyes lock with his, the sight of you sucking him in with a fucked-out face making him tip over the edge, filling your mouth with his hot cum.

He takes shaky breaths as he twitches in your mouth as you suck him and swallow each drop, not letting anything go to waste.

After he pulls out, he sits next to you and gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

He holds your face in his hands, his nose nudging yours. “Are you okay?”

You nod and kiss him again. And then you feel cold air hit the wet spots on your body. You chuckle “We need to get cleaned up, though.”

With that, you wipe yourselves with wipes and dress up to make an awkward walk towards the bathroom. You just hope that no one heard what you were doing in the tent. Or the shower.

#tHIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL #I LOVE IT UGH #my god!!!!

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micasaessakusa · 7 months ago

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gUUUUURL??????!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!

"I have always like to taste your lips.." || xavier x f!reader

cw // smut, dry humping, lots of kissing.

-♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"Wait-"

"No. More, I want more."

Hands gripping tightly on his hoodie, his hands caressing and pressing on your thighs as he kisses you for the million time. Your mind have become fuzzy now as you get drunk on his kisses. Biting your lower lip his tongue once again slipped inside your mouth.

Xavier lets out a groan and presses his body towards you even more, you're currenly sitting at the counter with your upper body trap between his arms. You tried pushing him but his fast on capturing your lips.

"Xavier! Can't breathe..."

He hums in response and move his lips to your neck as he unbuttons your polo and trail his kisses. He looks up at you and grins seeing how you are a blushing mess. He again came up and starts to kiss you, his other hand rest on your lower back and you felt him grind his bulge to you, making you let out a moan

"Xavier you..."

You said eyeing his growing bulge but he only nibbled to your eyes, you can feel his hands slipping inside your shirt and found it's way to your breast and he starts to fondle me

"I love you.."

He whispered and began kissing you, he began to suck your tongue and then play with it with his own. His fingers pinching your nipple making you flinch, grinding to you he bit your upper lip

"I love you too Xavier.."

He smiles in content before pulling you close and he began to hump into you. His hands left your breast and holds you tight on your waist as you moan his name.

"Didn't know you like dry humping.."

You said and he only laughs softly before planting kisses on your neck that will surely leave a mark

"It's sexy y'know... plus you look so alluring right now.."

He answered his fingers playing with your hair before tugging on it and captured your lips for a passionate kiss before grinding faster and your moans got drown between the kiss you shared as you felt yourself came undone just by him grinding, though you take notice how he grip your waist tight as he freezes and moves away from your lips so he can rest his head on the crook of your neck.

Both of you capturing your breath before the two of you starts to laugh as he embraces you tight.

"Let's go and wash up. Our clothes are dirty now."

#i am #speechless #my god #i love this so much???!#!?!!?!?!?

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micasaessakusa · 7 months ago

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mom i wanna cry 🥹🥹🥹

love and deepspace men when you keep telling them you love them

ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel fluff fluff and fluff

zayne

“is that how you’re going to reply to anything i say today?” he asked in a serious tone, although the slight twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. you smiled just a tad wider, gaining a reaction from the man whose lap you’re sitting at. “i love you,” you say once more, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. zayne just looked at you, he gazed at you so adoringly with eyes that told you millions. a hand cupped your jaw as you leaned into the touch, his hand felt warm. his thumb rubbed your cheek, then he let out the slightest smile to himself. “i can never win against you, can i?” he asked, kissing your lips as you could feel his smile against yours he mumbled, “i love you too.”

xavier

xavier offered you his sweetest smile as he stared at you. “i think i like this game.” he pulled you close, his arms around your waist as he leaned it, his breath ghosting over the skin of your cheek. you laughed at the ticklish feeling. “and i think i love you,” you replied, grabbing a hold of his face with both of your hand to stop his mischievous movement. xavier smiled once more, to a point where looked like he’s practically beaming. “again,” he whispered. “i love you, xavier.”

he chuckled happily, the sound filled your chest with an overwhelming sensation. “again?” he rested his forehead against yours, a gorgeous smile still loyal on his lips. “i love you so much, xavier.” xavier closed his eyes, as if basking the happiness that he thought could last for two eternities. he pressed a kiss on your lips, “i love you.” he pulled away before leaning in once more. “i love you, (y/n). always.”

rafayel

he looked almost smug on the first one, a coy smile painted his feature. “i know that,” he said as he crossed his arms, looking a tad too proud of himself. “rafayel, i love you,” you said once more as his demeanor changed slightly from the confident man to someone who looked a little unsure. “oh.. uh.. y-yeah you said that already,” he rubbed the back of his head, a pretty color of pink rose to his cheeks. you chuckled quietly at the expected reaction. you put your arms around his neck as you once more said, “have i told you that i love you so much rafayel?”

his blush now has spread all the way to the tip of his ears. “yes, yes you did, enough please!” he face palmed, trying to cover half of his face which proved to be futile since he left enough space so he could still look at you. “you never have mercy on my poor heart,” he mumbled, finally reciprocating the embrace. you squinted your eyes, expecting a certain sentence to be said back. “fine, fine. i love you too. happy?” he said, teasing. you exaggerated a frown as he laughed. “i love you, (y/n).” he said sincerely, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

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micasaessakusa · 7 months ago

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OH. MY. GOD. WHAT THE HECK I LOVE THIS???!!?!? I LEGIT SWEATDROPPED MISSMAAM??!?!!!

hii, i LOVE love the way you write xavier and i was wondering what your thoughts on him having a corruption kink would be? 👀

i feel like it fits him well but maybe it's also just the brainrot talking...

── first of all thank you anonie for the kind words omg, i love xavier Ardently 🤲🤲 and SECOND... corruption kink xavier oh my GOD you are SO. RIGHT i totally get you... the vision... i can SEE IT...

xavier's corruption kink would be a little more on the subtle side—he was always gentle with you, always soft and always attentive to your needs... that is, unless you asked to be treated roughly, unless you begged for him to do otherwise.

and that's probably where it starts.

because xavier would never tell you, but he liked the face you made whenever you're all fucked out for him.

he liked the way your eyes would glaze over; his fingers, or his cock, or his tongue playing and having their way with you. he liked the whimpers you would make at every thrust of his hips, the way his name would fall from your lips in an endless chant, the way your hips would buck up to chase all of this pleasure that he would gladly, gladly give to you... so ruined for him, and him alone.

but even more than that, he loved the build-up.

the build-up of getting you to that state, moaning his name, begging for more—

because you were always just so... innocent.

so pure, so unassuming, so—easy.

the way you'd blush at the slightest mention, the slightest insinuations of these... less-than-pure activities with him... the way your ears would turn pink at even the very sight of him shirtless, despite how desperately you would try to hide it every single time, despite how often you would see him like this just to help him bandage his wounds.

it was cute.

adorable.

and xavier would use it to his advantage every. single. time.

because how would you know?

how would you know that the reason he was so touchy with you, the reason he would whisper these vaguely suggestive words into your ear—was because he desperately, desperately, desperately needed to see you so worked up for him... and not to—to just cuddle with you?

while you always saw him as innocent; he was only ever playing the part to get to you.

calm, whenever he snaked his hands over your waist; dismissive, whenever he placed kisses along the side of your neck—

he loved the shudder of your skin, the whines on your lips when you asked him what he was doing.

"nothing, angel," he'd mumble. "i'm just kissing you. can't i? do you not want me to?"

and oh, he'd love the way you would gradually shift over to begging.

your "no, o-of course i want you to...!" would switch into quiet moans when he'd suckle over a particularly sensitive patch of skin, would switch into a shaky whimper when he'd deliberately brush over your already-hardened nipple.

"x-xavier, don't tease... please..."

and he'd smile.

"but... why? i'm not teasing, angel. what's gotten you so worked up for me like this...?"

and then you'd be vague, and shy, and hesitant; stuttering to cover your desires before your frustration would get the better of you and then you'd be blatant—specific.

pleas of having him deep and perfect and snug inside of you, pleas of having him fuck you senseless—your wants would change, but the message was there. and, god, he had never imagined he could ever hear such filthy words from you at all.

you were his angel, for god's sake! his angel, his princess, his queen—his, and he'd always seen you so... pure.

angelic, just as he called you.

wholesome.

...clean.

but, now, in his hands, you were stained by sin—ruined, for him, by him.

so he'd go through the process again and again, watching you descend from your throne of purity to the depths of whatever he could drag you into—

and god, he loved it.

...but xavier would never tell you that.

it's just his small, dirty little secret...

you don't have to know.

⁺₊ / an: i finally get it... the reason he's always acting so innocent, the way he's always so deliberate with his teasing 😭 he TOTALLY has a corruption kink.

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

#🤬🤬🤬🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

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micasaessakusa · 7 months ago

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WHEN I SAY THIS MADE ME CRY 😭😭😭😭😭

Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)

Part 1 | Part 2

Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.

Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)

Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup

A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!

-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-

Rafayel

You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.

It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.

The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.

And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.

"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"

Yes, a lot of things were wrong.

But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.

You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.

When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.

Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.

You became strangers to each other.

"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."

"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.

"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."

He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.

"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."

No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.

Zayne

Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.

But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.

After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.

Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".

It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.

At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?

But it only got worse.

All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.

Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.

Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.

At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.

He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.

And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.

"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."

Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.

"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."

You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.

Xavier

Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.

But now it wasn't actually true.

Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.

During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.

You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.

One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.

Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.

You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.

You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.

"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.

And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."

He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.

He wasn't even home the day you left.

Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.

Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.

"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."

You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.

♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii

#gurl that hurt so bad????!!#i love it 😭😭😭

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micasaessakusa · 7 months ago

Text

I AM SHIVERING WITH ANTICIPATION (🤪) AND UGH MC BEING CONFLICTED IS SO FUNNY KNOWING WHAT WE KNOW. LIKE JUST YOU WAIT MAAM, YOURE GONNA GET IT SOON

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 4.7k | chapter 2 of 4

Then

The Todoroki house was the most interesting place you had ever been.

At home it was just you and your mom, and most of the time she was working, or recovering from working, but the Todoroki house was packed with children from wall to wall. There was almost never a dull minute—except when Todoroki Enji came home and everyone got stiff and weird—but when he wasn’t around, you found you preferred the Todoroki mansion to the loneliness of your own empty house.

Touya seemed to sense this, and deigned to invite you over often, enough that you found yourself following him home after school at least once a week.

After the first time, you’d been introduced to his other siblings, Fuyumi and Natuso, who were both much nicer than Touya, and notably far more talkative. Shouto was a near-constant too, almost always propped on his mother’s hip when you arrived home, and always eager to be handed off to you, enough that you could tell Touya was annoyed.

“You’re not even related,” he complained, and you hid a smile at his barely-couched jealousy.

“I’m just better than you,” you told him, sticking your tongue out, dodging when he tried to grab it. You’d never had siblings, and you’d been forced to learn quickly that nothing was off-limits to people with younger siblings. Revenge would always be exacted.

Even when Shouto got older, old enough to talk in complete sentences and toddle about on his own, he seemed to prefer your company. You and Touya were almost never left alone to play on your own, Shouto always in the room with you, almost velcroed to your side.

He was on the floor next to you in the living room on one such occasion, Touya absolutely destroying you in Super Mario, when Rei called Touya in from the kitchen.

Touya rolled his eyes, pausing and flinging his controller at your head with the manner of someone who hoped it actually connected. “Don’t restart while I’m gone or I’ll kill you.”

You saluted him as he stomped out, taking a minute to stretch out from where you’d sat hunched over your controller. You bumped Shouto as you did, and he looked up at you from his coloring book, where he was shading in a pair of penguins in hot pink.

“Nice choice,” you told him, and Shouto looked a little bit like he was trying not to preen.

“Izuku in my class says penguins mate for life, like us,” he said, authoritatively.

You blinked, your brain snagging on the like us. Alphas, betas, and omegas could mate for life, and were generally expected to, but that didn’t always quite play out if you didn’t find your life mate. Your mother was a near-hand example, your father having left her while you were still in swaddling clothes, only to pass away a short few years later. They hadn’t been life mates, you’d come to realize recently—though your mother still believed in them. You hoped she’d find hers still, someday.

You thought maybe, however, that you were not going to hold out hope for your own, if it was as tricky as it seemed.

“You know not everyone does, right?” you asked, peering down at Shouto.

Wide, guileless eyes stared back up at you. Shouto had lost a little of his baby fat recently, but absolutely none of his sweetness.

“Who does not?” he demanded, sitting back on his haunches.

You fiddled with the controller in your fingers, wondering suddenly if you should have brought this up with him. “Some people. My parents didn’t,” you said, cautiously.

Shouto’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. “Your parents?”

You shook your head. “Sometimes people don’t find them even after all of the mating runs.”

Shouto did not look pleased with this. His eyes roved over you, pinning on you with a sort of sudden, unnerving intensity. “Sometimes people go on mating runs. And their life mate is not there because they are too young to go yet.”

You blinked, surprised by the specificity of this conclusion. “Sometimes, probably, yeah.”

Shouto’s tiny frown deepened, and he carefully arranged himself up against your side. “You will wait though, right?”

Your hand found its way unthinkingly into his hair, ruffling it. He was a sweet kid. “I mean, people usually go through more than one mating run, right?”

Shouto pressed more insistently into your side. “You will keep going until your life mate is there, though.”

You had an image of yourself, greying and eighty, slowly wobbling on your cane through the preserve. You suppressed a laugh. “I’ll go as I can until I age out, how about that?”

Shouto nodded, satisfied. His crayon resumed on the penguins, fiery pink streaking across the page. “I will be there,” he pronounced definitively.

His decisive tone startled a laugh out of you. You grinned down at him, unable to help the urge to ruffle his hair again. “I’ll stick around until we can run together. Although you better get good at climbing trees.”

Shouto blinked, his mouth pursing in puzzlement. “Trees,” he repeated to himself.

You nodded. “If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate.”

You would not be like your parents. You would not settle, and you would be realistic about your prospects.

Shouto’s eyes tracked across your face once more, like he was committing the statement to memory.

“You’re welcome to come up with me,” you said. You couldn’t imagine Shouto as anything other than an omega like his mom, not with that sweet little face. You didn’t like the idea of some alpha trying to get at him, so it was better he stay safe in your tree with you.

The thought suddenly rankled, and you decided you were done with this discussion. Better not to think of Shouto all grown up and spirited away from everyone until you absolutely had to.

You tapped a finger on Shouto’s coloring book, turning him back to it. “Anyway. Tell me about the other animals in here? Did Izuku tell you about any of these?”

Shouto looked down at the page, his expression shifting seriously. “This is a killer whale,” he said, pointing to a corner of the page he’d colored in with a blob of forest green. “They are related to dolphins. They are the biggest dolphin in the world.”

You nodded, relaxing back on your hands, gesturing for him to go on.

Shouto took his job very seriously, explaining solemnly and in great detail all the animals on the page, the way he sometimes described all his toys to you. You let him go on, finding that you liked listening to Shouto talk—he was rarely so wordy, but he was easy and familiar and funny in how seriously he took everything.

You laid back and listened to him, hoping Touya took a little extra time in the kitchen. Shouto looked pleased to have your attention, and soon enough you found yourself dozing, your head against his little thigh, content with Shouto’s sweet little voice washing over you.

In Shouto’s company, the Todoroki house felt a lot like home.

Now

Your beloved mother woke you in the morning ramming the vacuum into the door of your old bedroom-turned-storage room.

You groaned from your air mattress, your old bed frame sold off already to pay a gas bill. You missed that thing.

“Only a week together and you were out all day yesterday,” your mother said when you emerged from your old room, shooting you a look that immediately made you feel like a teenager again. She was wearing one of your old sweatshirts, that she’d clearly commandeered because she’d missed you.

Your heart squeezed a little at the familiar sight of her, but not enough to curb your morning fussiness.

“Maybe I was out scoping alphas to pounce on during the run,” you said, shuffling towards the kitchen and the promise of coffee.

“You were out with the mayor’s son,” she said, sniffing. A small smile pulled at your mouth—she had pettily refused to call Touya by his name for years.

She’d been thrilled by your friendship with him when you were kids. From the outside, Touya had looked like a beautiful little boy from a well-to-do family. You knew she’d once held out hope for your friendship to turn into something more, to see you settled into a well-off family and taken good care of.

For your part, however, you’d been drawn to Touya but never interested in that way, and you knew Touya felt the same. And things had only gotten more complicated when Touya’s mental health had crumbled like dirt under his father’s heel, and even worse when the Todoroki family fire broke out; Touya’s extensive burns damaged his glands and destroyed any evidence of his secondary gender before he’d even presented. Though, personally, you’d always suspected he was an omega. He was showy, flashy, possessed of that classic omega need for praise and attention—not quite to your tastes.

You thought you probably preferred someone a little more lowkey, someone steady and easy. Definitely not Touya.

There was also the fact that his efforts as of late seemed directed at the one quarter of your friend group with blonde, fluffy hair. Though you knew Touya would rather burn his remaining skin off before admitting it.

Either way, your mother’s hopes of a marriage into the Todoroki family were dashed, along with her opinion of Todoroki Enji when things finally came to head, and she’d never quite forgiven Touya for it.

“Touya says hello,” you answered distractedly, fiddling around with the coffee machine, though of course Touya had said no such thing. “I saw Rei though, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto. Did you know Shouto is a firefighter now? He’s gotten so big.”

“An alpha?” your mom’s voice floated out from the living room, her eagerness not quite suppressed.

You laughed, though a tiny, strange sort of spark lit up your spine. “Mom, I’m a couple years too old for him. I’m like his grandma.”

“Oh you are not, you dramatic thing,” you heard her sniff.

“Our first date could be at my bingo hall,” you carried on over the hiss of the water boiling, the dribble of coffee into the pot. “And we could get drunk on our prune juice, and I could slide out my dentures waiting for him to kiss me—”

“I’m going to sell you,” your mother said, her vacuum starting up again pointedly. You heard the distinct thump of it being rammed into a couch leg and grinned.

You knew she wanted to see you settled because she loved you, wanted to see you taken care of in all the ways that she hadn’t been. Your father had let her down years before he’d even passed, which you thought should have besmirched any alpha’s good name in your mother’s book. But she was determined to believe in love and life mates despite it all, and you admired her for it. She was a stubborn thing.

You spent the morning helping her do chores, clambering up onto the counters and getting all the places she couldn’t regularly reach, hauling out her trash and googling your way through some low-level repairs. You shared a quick breakfast in between, dodging more questions about the mating run, before returning to cleaning.

You were covered in dust and a thin layer of Lysol by the time you remembered you’d promised to meet Shouto at the fire station for lunch. There was not enough time to change or shower if you wanted to pick something up on the way, and you supposed it was well enough that Shouto did not actually possess the level of interest in you that your mother might have wanted him to.

“Going to see my child bride,” you told your mom on the way out, laughing and dodging a sponge.

The walk to the fire station took the better part of forty-five minutes, including a long interlude spent hemming and hawing over the prepared foods section of the grocery store before you finally settled on cold soba—Shouto’s favorite from when you were younger, if you remembered correctly.

The fire station itself was an older, whitewashed multi-story building, set back from the main road. The garage doors were open in the warming spring air, the bright red of the fire engines clearly visible from blocks away. You must have been visible from blocks away, too, because Shouto stepped out as you turned onto the drive, the dark blue of his stationwear stark against his skin.

Your heart did a strange lurching motion in your chest, and you pointedly did not let your eyes linger on the way his uniform belted in at his hips, highlighting the trimness of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Nope.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, holding up your bag of spoils. “You still like soba, right?”

Shouto blinked, his eyelashes fluttering. Long fingers touched the bag, hefting it carefully from your grip. “You remember.”

You grinned up at him. “How could I forget? Especially because I was there when you had it for the first time. You flung some at Touya from your high chair and it ended up on me instead.”

Shouto looked embarrassed, a pink flush spreading prettily across the tops of his high cheekbones. “I do not believe you.”

“Uh huh,” you said.

Shouto’s mouth pulled into what might have been a nonexpression on anyone else, but was most definitely a pout on him. Cute.

“I can reassure you there will be no soba flung today,” he promised, his deep voice earnest. Then he paused. “Touya is not in range.”

A surprised laugh escaped you, and the edge of Shouto’s lips pulled. He looked pleased with himself for having drawn it out of you. He’d always made you laugh, even as a kid—though mostly for how incongruously serious he was as a child, even about the silliest things. But also for how he seemed able to press people’s buttons—Touya’s especially—just by existing.

Shouto gestured you inside, and you studied the firetrucks as you passed them, mostly so you did not watch the way Shouto’s shoulders shifted beneath his shirt.

When he caught your look of curiosity, Shouto led you over to one, opening the door for you to take a look inside. You peered at all the knobs and switches interestedly, leaning into the cab. It looked complex, and yet very familiar. It actually looked a lot like the toy fire truck that once spent a fair amount of time occupying the inside of baby Shouto’s mouth.

You glanced back, opening your mouth to tell Shouto as much, when suddenly two large hands were at your waist, warm and sure. They lifted you right into the driver’s seat like it was absolutely no effort.

You fell into the cab, suddenly winded. You whipped around to stare at Shouto, heart hammering with the casual display of alpha strength, unable to help the wide-eyed look you knew you were giving him. That was—that was—not allowed.

“Am I—can I be—in here?” you garbled out, trying not to make obvious the real reason for your sudden disorientation.

Shouto stepped up onto the wheel plate to lean into the cab beside you, bringing in a puff of that scent like campfire on a cold day. “Yes,” he answered, looking unbothered with how close his face was to yours.

You watched him helplessly, brain fogging with his proximity and his scent. He was very, very pretty up close. He’d grown into what had to be the most beautiful person you’d actually ever seen—his mother’s looks, dialed up to an eleven. The deliberate alpha edge to him should have been at odds with that delicate sensuality—but instead it was like his secondary gender sat on him like a beam of sunlight, highlighting his beauty.

It was totally at conflict with the round, pudgy little thing he’d been when you’d first seen him, the lanky preteen you’d left him as.

He felt so familiar and yet so strangely new. It was disconcerting.

You quickly averted your gaze, making a show of leaning in over all the dials and buttons. Shouto leaned right over your lap, his chest warm against your legs, patiently explaining what each one did in his low, calm tone. The depth of his voice was so shocking, but the tone so similar to what it had been—you could remember him explaining animals in his coloring book to you in much the same level of careful detail once.

Your head spun with the dichotomy. Baby Shouto, a lifetime away, and adult alpha Shouto here in front of you—

You hurriedly pushed the thought of adult alpha Shouto down before you could think too deeply on it. That was off limits.

When you’d had your fill and Shouto had managed to make sure you didn’t accidentally deploy the ladder in the station itself, he helped you down from the cab, his hands hot on your waist.

“I’m old but still spry enough to get myself down, young man,” you told him as he settled you back on the station floor. Your heartbeat felt like it was somewhere around your throat.

“I did not hear your bones creak at least,” Shouto said, startling you into a laugh again.

His mouth twitched as he led you further into the station, giving you a short tour of the gear racks, the office, the laundry room and fitness room stuffed with several of his coworkers, a room that smelled overwhelmingly of clashing alpha scents, none nearly as good as Shouto’s.

A cheery red head waved to you from the leg press, that Shouto introduced as Kirishima, and a blonde alpha greeted him with a towel whipped directly at Shouto’s face. Shouto ducked it with the ease of long practice.

“Oi halfie, who the fuck told you you could eat the cookies I brought in?” the blonde demanded, barely sparing you an acknowledging glace as he reracked a mind-bogglingly enormous set of weights.

Shouto introduced him anyway, in a deliberately bland tone that you immediately recognized as one he deployed to rile up Touya. “This is Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Answer the damn question,” Bakugou said.

Shouto blinked long and slow and absolutely meant to annoy. You hid a smile. “Am I expected to fight fires on an empty stomach,” Shouto said, flatter than a question.

“I’ll fucking show you an empty stomach when I rip out your—”

“You must be Y/N,” Kirishima said loudly from the leg press. You instantly clocked a beta disruption technique at work and smiled at him.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, searching for something to reply with, uniting in his peace-keeping mission. “That’s—an impressive amount of weight.”

“Thanks!” Kirishima said brightly.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Shouto’s head snapping towards you, and you looked back to find his eyes narrowed on you.

“I can press as much,” Shouto said, his tone insistent. He crowded a little closer to you.

Your eyebrows crept towards your hairline, mystified. “I—that’s—great?”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth, and a disgusted sound issued from Bakugou’s corner of the gym. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Take this shit right outta here,” Bakugou demanded.

Shouto ignored him, still staring at you. He pressed closer, his shoulders shifting so that he was angled between you and Kirishima, obscuring most of your line of sight.

“I—mean you definitely look like you can press, um, a lot,” you continued, bewildered. “The only pressing I do is, uh, french press.”

The frown evaporated from Shouto’s expression, something suddenly pleased descending over it instead. Beyond him, you thought you could see Kirishima smiling, mouthing you look like you can press a lot to Bakugou, and an answering eye-roll from Bakugou. Oh god. Had you said that?

Your face heated, and you immediately decided an evacuation was in order. “Well thanks for letting us interrupt you. Nice to meet you guys. Shouto—should we—?”

Shouto’s hand found the small of your back, gently guiding you. All thought of Kirishima and Bakugou suddenly evaporated under the feeling of that hot palm, and you barely managed another wave as Shouto shadowed you out of the room. He led you up a flight of stairs to the dorm area, where several more of his coworkers were arrayed, chatting over their own lunches.

Face still sort of warm, you helped Shouto unpack the soba and the various side dishes you’d grabbed. He disappeared further into the kitchen and returned with glasses of water and the appropriate utensils, arraying everything in front of you.

“So this is going to be your first run,” you said conversationally, after you’d taken your first bite of soba. “Got any lucky omega in mind?”

Shouto’s eyes darted up from his chopsticks to your face, grey and blue pinning you. “I have… someone in mind,” he said, after a moment.

A strange twinge made itself known in your chest again. You ignored it, shoving more noodles into your mouth determinedly.

“I am sure you will have absolutely no trouble, but I am happy to give you a quick rundown of all the usual hiding spots anyway,” you said. “Most omegas actually end up not too far into the preserve because they want to be caught, so it should be pretty easy.”

One of Shouto’s brows quirked the tiniest bit. “I have reason to believe I’ll need to follow at least a few miles.”

You felt your own eyebrows lift. Not too many omegas went super far in, unless they were looking to avoid someone or pose a real challenge. You went miles in specifically for that reason as well—to steer clear of the action, not that it was likely to find you anyway—and get up your tree before anyone came looking.

“There’s fewer spots that far out because the brush gets all scraggly at the coast,” you said. “There’s a few outcroppings though that I’ve seen omegas go for. You really think your intended will go that far?”

Shouto considered you for a long moment, those mismatched eyes roving over you. “I do.”

Whoever it was, they were going to make him work for it, huh? You suppressed a growing spot of offense on his behalf.

“And you’re sure about this person?” you asked.

Shouto nodded. “I have been sure since I was very small.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the same time as your stomach seemed to drop. That was very sweet—and also strangely disheartening to hear.

Why was that disheartening?

“Then—do you think they’re for sure your life mate?” you asked, taking a careful, studied sip of water.

“I do,” Shouto answered. The simplicity of his statement spoke for itself. You were a beta and did not have quite the same capacity to detect your mate as an alpha, but you knew alphas always knew. You wondered if he’d always known he was going to end up an alpha if he’d had that instinctive understanding since he was young.

You wondered why he’d never said anything, all those years you’d grown up together.

Your heart did a strange dip, sinking at the same time it lifted for him.

“I’m really happy for you Shouto. I’m glad I came back just in time to see you find happiness, when it feels like I have already missed so much else,” you told him.

Shouto leaned forward, catching your eye. His gaze was serious where it caught yours. “I am glad you came back, too. You have been… missed,” he said.

Your heartbeat fluttered, and you gripped the edge of the table, trying to quell the feeling. It would not do to be too overwhelmed by Shouto. Not now.

You managed a smile, and quickly rerouted the conversation back to the hiding spots you knew, and the forest trails you’d seen most omegas utilize. Shouto watched you carefully, and you hoped he was committing the information to memory.

After that the conversation turned to more innocuous topics, a rehashing of some of your shared childhood memories, some picking on Touya. The soba disappeared between the two of you, as well as all the side dishes you’d brought. Shouto was incredibly easy to talk to, you found—a fascinating blend of the earnest, slight shit-stirrer of a little boy you’d known and a blandly funny adult man. He had some of Touya’s underlying propensity towards intensity, and some of his mother’s thoughtful sweetness—and you liked the way the familiar traits blended into something faceted and interesting.

He really had grown up.

After lunch he let you explore more of the station, showing you all the compartments on the fire engines, explaining all the equipment. On the way to the door he also let you rifle through the gear bays, showing you his own rack of turnout gear.

He even let you try his jacket on, looking like he was suppressing a smile when the heaviness of it weighed your arms down, watching you flap your arms around, marveling as what was easily twenty pounds of heat-proof fabric resisted you.

No wonder he needed such an intense workout routine.

You couldn’t help but be amazed by it all—who Shouto had turned into, and the fact that he had such an impressive job, one that fit him so well. The fact that he was an adult now, with goals and ambitions that were a lot more grounded than yours. The fact that he was an alpha of all things, and could lift you up into a firetruck as easily as you’d once lifted him off Touya’s hip.

It was so much to contemplate, and you watched him, helplessly fascinated, as he led you around.

You lingered for long enough that the sky was tinging pink and orange by the time you left, and Shouto saw you to the door, insisting on plugging in his number to your phone so you could text when you got home. You could still feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner down the street, a strange warmth suffusing you as you walked. It kept you warm the entire way home, despite the cool evening air.

It was only when you arrived at your mother’s front door, shooting off your promised text to Shouto that you realized that you were mooning like a girl returning home from a date—a completely embarrassing, inappropriate tact for your mind to take with someone who had been your childhood friend. Your childhood junior.

Besides, Shouto had explicitly said he had someone in mind already, someone he intended to follow during the run. And you were too old for him, and a beta as well. Alpha-beta couplings were rare—and if Shouto had known who his life mate was since he was very small, and never given any indication it was a beta—well that spoke for itself.

You shook your head as you let yourself in through the door, trying to slough off the feeling as you called a greeting to your mother. It was sad you’d never get to haul him up a tree after you, the way you’d promised when you were kids. But such was life, you guessed.

Shouto may have grown up into an admirable man and a beautiful alpha—but he was off limits to you. You’d make sure you treated him with nothing but the respect and friendly fondness he deserved. Nothing else.

Absolutely nothing else.

#i love love love this fic!!!

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micasaessakusa · 8 months ago

Text

wHEN I SAY I CHOKED---

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

#I DID #THAT WAS SO FUCKING GOOD???#THE ANTICIPATION IS KILLING ME #SOOOOOO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT ONE!!!

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