#[SAID AS CHAPTER 5 IS LOOMING OVER US]

[disastrousfeline]

sorry to butt in but. my group's firehelpers au :]

just realizing that one of my Signature Things™ as a lancer GM seems to be taking the big bad evil guys and making them women. i'm running a heavily modified version of In Golden Flame, and the cult leader in that was originally written as a guy, but now she's a woman. i've also turned the main villain of No Room for a Wallflower into a woman. this just happens in my games i guess

i'm the #1 supporter of women's wrongs and i've got to show it

[moody-alcoholic]

Coffee

I've had this story saved for a while now trying to muster the confidence to post it today is the day! I'm finally jumping straight out of my comfort zone and into new territory wish me luck... Can you tell I'm bad a naming things, title coming soontm... when I think of one.

DISCLAMER: This is my first time writing a reader fic so please be gentle. It is also my first time writing a fic that is pretty much going to be centered around smut. I am also really bad at writing Soap's accent my dyslexic brain freaks out too much, I will strive to improve though XD

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 3.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. Am I doing this right?? CW: This chapter is SFW, but in future it will get spicy so for my own sanity +18 MDNI mentions of sex, descriptions of injuries.

Part 2 Masterlist

Phew, Enjoy <3

“Sergeant MacTavish?” You call into the hallway there are some soldiers waiting, you look up and down to see if anyone reacts to the name. 

“Sergeant John MacTavish?” You call again this time a little louder.

“Here lass!” A man calls hobbling down the hall towards you. Your breath catches in your throat, even being on a base surrounded by plenty of hunky men you had not seen anyone quite like him. His broad shoulders, thick arms and tanned skin. His fluffy mohawk, shining almost bronze in the florescent lights. To top it all off his cheeky grin is sending butterfly's racing in your stomach.

He’s being followed by what seems like an even bigger man trying to help him wobble his way down the hall, his sharp eyes focused on making sure his friend doesn’t topple over. The rest of his face is covered by a balaclava with a skull printed on it. It makes you shiver as they walked towards you. You move to the side of the door letting them in. John finds his way to a chair while the other man stands behind him. You close the door to the room going back over to the desk sitting down and opening his file on the computer. 

“Twisted your ankle during an exercise?” You look past the monitor at him. 

“Aye, I’m fine but LT here insisted I get it checked out.” He replies with a smile on his face thumbing behind at the man looming over him. Christ even his accent is sexy.

“And I’m staying to make sure you do get it checked out properly instead of flirting your way to a few paracetamol and a cold compress.” The man said, his voice was deep, commanding. You could feel heat rush to your cheeks at the mention of flirting, but you push the thought away trying to remain professional. 

“It is good to get it checked even if it is just a sprain.” You move your chair round so you’re sitting in front of him. 

“Do you mind if I take your boot off?”

“I got it lass,” he winked bending down to untie the laces, and pulled the boot off. You could tell by the scrunching of his face and the grunt he made that this was causing him pain. He put his foot back down on the floor his ankle did look swollen. 

“Have you tried ice or a cold compress?” You ask. 

“Aye,” he replies you hear the man behind him sigh.

“What he means by that is he tried for about 5 minutes before he was back on his feet again.” John huffed at being called out. 

“You’ll need to try for longer then that,” you say acknowledging the tall man behind John who now had his arms crossed. You pick the foot up watching John try to hide the pain, you only lift it up a little before decided it was going to need an x-ray. 

“I will book an x-ray for you in the mean time if you go into the ward they will give you an ice pack and a bed.” You explain moving your chair back to the desk so you could book the appointment. 

“Do you want any pain relief?” You ask. 

“Na, I can barely feel it.” He says a cheeky smile on his face. You nod typing the report and waiting for the paper to print out. 

“I can give you some crutches you really should keep your weight off it.” You stand up going to the printer.

“It’s okay love I’ve got my own crutch here.” He says hopping up on his foot and wrapping his arm round the other man. You smile handing the paper to him.

“Give this to the nurse on the ward.” You say rushing in front of them to open the door. 

“Thanks love,” he says beaming at you as he gets lead out by his friend who looks back at you and nods. You close the door to the room taking a breath out. What the hell was that? You find a smile forming on your lips as your heart flutters in your chest. 

————————

Two days later you find yourself as the night nurse. Not that you mind it’s normally the quieter part of the job and there is no one in the ward so you don’t even have to worry about trying to look busy. About an hour into your shift someone comes through the doors. You recognise him immediately as John, from a few days ago with the sprained ankle. He’s hobbling around on crutches now, his friend is not with him ether. 

“Hello sweetheart!” He says his voice full of energy, that ever present smile on his face. 

“Hey, John did you need something?” you ask coming round from behind the nurses station. 

“Yeah actually, I was told to come pick up something…” He trails off. “Now what was it?�� 

“Painkillers?” You ask. 

“No it begin with a T I think.” He looks up to the corner of the room like he is trying to think hard about it.

“A tubigrip?” You ask.

“That’s the one lass!” He says snapping his fingers, you can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. 

“Sit up on the bed I’ll get you one.” You say turning to the cupboard of supplies. You pick out two sizes then walk back over to John already leaning down to untie his boots. 

“I can do that.” You insist waving his hands away, he sighs but gives in leaning back on the bed. You carefully remove the boot looking back and checking to see how he reacts. He’s ether getting better at hiding it or painkillers have helped. He only winces when you have to pull the boot over his heel.

“What did the doctor say?” You ask. 

“Sprained, I’ve been stuck behind a desk for the last two days.” He makes a pouting face as you pull his sock off. 

“You should sleep with it elevated that will help with the swelling.” You say pulling his trouser leg up. The swelling has definitely improved since you saw it last. 

“I bet with a few more days of rest you’ll be back on your feet like nothing happened.” You smile at him.

“I hope so lass, my unit’s being shipped out at the end of the week.” He says as you pull the tubigrip over his foot and ankle.

“Oh yeah anywhere fun?” You ask. 

“Ah ‘fraid I can’t tell you that love.” He winks, you can't tell if he’s joking or not but you pull his trouser leg back down.

“You can keep your boot on but not too tight, and keep it elevated.” You explain putting his boot back on and loosely tying the laces. 

“What painkillers are you taking?” You ask as he swivels his body round so his feet are hanging off the bed. 

“Paracetamol, oh and the doc said I could take ibuprofen too, but I don’t need it I can barely feel a thing.” You look back at him chuckling, his arms flex as he pushes himself up with the crutches. You feel your cheeks heat up again.

“You should take the ibuprofen at least it will also help with the swelling.” You force out, leaning over him to pick up his sock from the bed. He smells good, must be his aftershave. You hold the sock out for him and he sheepishly takes it out your hand shoving it in his pocket. You move back so he can hop out the ward back to the nurses station. 

“Well it was nice seeing you again…” He trails off like he’s trying to remember your name his eyes squinting. You cover your badge teasing him. He chuckles. 

“LT is the one with the better memory.” He says turning his body to the doors. 

“Ashe.” You reply uncovering your badge.

“Well then Ashe it was nice to see you again.” His smile is infectious and you could have sworn he winked at you. 

“Good luck on your deployment,” You call back as he pushes his way through the doors. 

“I don’t need luck.” He winks at you. Okay that time it was definitely a wink and it made the butterflies come back to your belly. You sit down at the nurses station with a smile on your face and heat in your cheeks.

————————

One week later you get a text out of the blue.

Hey, this Ashe? 

It’s an unknown number you’re tempted to ignore it, but something inside you forces you to answer it. 

Yeah, who’s this?

It’s only seconds later a response comes.

It’s Johnny, with the fucked up ankle. 

Holy shit, you choke on your drink, coughing as the liquid has now gone in your windpipe. You take a few more sips trying to sooth it. How the hell did he get my number? 

How did you get my number?

From a friend of a friend..

You can’t help but chuckle, is this real? Did he make his deployment? You realise you haven’t seen him round the base in a few days, and you would know you’ve been looking. Sometimes without even realising it any time you see a broad tanned soldier hairs stand up on the back of your neck and you crane to look only to be disappointed. His friend with the skull mask, you found out his name was lieutenant Riley. You know you definitely hadn’t seen him. 

Anyway…Want to get coffee? 

Such a simple request has your heart thumping in your chest. 

When? 

You reply without thinking, your leg starts to jump under the table nervousness washing over you. Coffee? With me? Why?

How about that coffee place just outside the base, tomorrow 1300?

Your heart is pounding now your throat dry. Is this a date? 

Sure :)

Was the smiley too much, you put your phone down embarrassed. You hear it buzz picking up the courage to look 

See ya there :)

You let out a breath your leg stops jumping. Coffee with Johnny, surely it’s just a friendly thing to say thank you for helping with his ankle. It doesn't matter if it is or not but he’s on your mind for the rest of the day until you go to bed. 

————————

You show up early, the butterfly's have not left your stomach since the moment you woke up. You managed to switch your shift with another nurse so you could be here instead. Coffee sounded like too much especially with your nerves you opted for a tea. You find yourself checking your watch almost every second, your back is to the door each time it opens your heart stops and you turn to look. Jesus calm down woman, it’s just coffee. You try to tell yourself. A few minutes later and a few sips of hot tea, you start to calm. 

“Hey there lass.” You hear the familiar Scottish accent behind you. You turn in your chair to see him. He’s smiling of course he is he sits down in the chair opposite you. His skin looks darker or maybe it’s just the light in the room, his hair looks like it’s been freshly groomed. You get a proper look at his eyes, a beautiful deep blue. You can’t help finding yourself smiling.

“Hey,” You reply. He chuckles almost like he can feel the nervousness radiating off you. 

“What’s your poison?” He asks pointing at your cup. 

“Eh tea.” You reply realising you’ve almost finished it. 

“Typical brits,” he sighs playfully as he gets up. 

“Let me get it, you should rest your ankle.” You say quickly stopping him in his tracks. 

“Don’t worry love it’s been solid for a few days now.” You sigh that’s good at least. He gets up walking over to the counter. You take out a deep breath, your head following him as he orders beaming at the staff his accent cutting through the mumbling of the other patrons. You look back at your tea finishing it off as Johnny comes back with the drinks. He smiles as he sits down putting the tea in front of you. 

“Thank you,” You say warming your hands on the new mug. 

“Ne problem don’t you worry about it, I’m supposed to be treating you,” You feel yourself blushing again as that cheeky look comes back on his face.  

“Why?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. He chuckles.

“You helped me with my ankle, I wanted to say thank you.” He says as a matter of fact. 

“It’s my job,” you reply shrugging, feeling a rush of embarrassment washing over you. “You could have just caught me on the base.”

“Yeah,” Now his cheeks looked like they were changing to a gorgeous shade of pink. 

“Did you manage to get deployed?” You ask trying to move the subject on. He smiles leaning back in his chair.

“Na, whole thing got cancelled, I spent a few days in London.” He says smiling.

“Was Riley-I mean-lieutenant Riley was he with you?” You blurt out sipping your tea so the word vomit would stop. 

“Simon?” Johnny asked his smile getting bigger. “Oh yeah we spend a lot of time together.”

“Huh, that’s nice you must be a tight unit.” You say calming yourself. So his name was Simon, Simon Riley.

“What about you what have you been up to?” He leans forward sipping his coffee.

“Work, nothing really.” You smile.

“When’s your next leave?” He asks. 

“Two weeks.” He nods like he's thinking about something his lips pressed together. He leans forward on the table more.

“There was another reason I wanted to see you.” He says, his smile disappearing. You hold your breath in anticipation of what he’s going to say next. He takes a breath in for a second looking you in the eyes.

“I really wanted to see you again.” He said, okay that’s not bad. You almost want to laugh at how worked up you got yourself. He just wants to say thank you, he’s buying you coffee because he want’s to be nice. You helped him with his ankle. Now he’s asking if you’re single.

Wait what?    

“Single?” You ask, your brain trying to comprehend what you missed. He nods his smile coming back, at least that puts you at ease. 

“Yeah, I’m single. Are you single?” It seems like the appropriate time to ask him too. His lips are pressed together again like he’s trying to formulate a sentence in his head. 

“It’s complicated,” A cheeky smile forms on his lips as he sips his coffee. 

“What do you mean it’s complicated? Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask frowning at him.

“No.” He replies flatly.

“A boyfriend?” He puts his coffee down. 

“I wanted to see you cos I’ve spent the last week tryin’ te get ya out my head and it’s impossible.” He said leaning forward. You blush at his words. 

“What do you mean it’s complicated though?” Your heart beating faster in your chest you can’t tell if it’s the caffeine from the tea or the words from Johnny’s mouth but it was getting harder to concentrate. 

“I’m married to my work.” He says leaning back. You sigh, this has happened before. ‘I can’t be with you the job is too important’ It’s all too familiar, finding love when every one around you is throwing their lives on the front line is near impossible. 

“I get it,” You say trying not to hide your disappointment. 

“C’mon lass it don’t mean we can’t still be mates.” He says it sounds almost like a plea. You feel sad and drained, you didn’t know what to expect from the meeting but you weren't expecting to feel like you just got dumped by someone you didn’t even date. You look at Johnny his blue eyes look sad, he grips the handle of his coffee mug. 

“It’s okay, you seem like a nice guy but I know how this goes. We’ll talk maybe have sex a few times but sooner or later you’ll move on, or be deployed or I’ll move on or be stationed somewhere else…” You look at Johnny finishing the rest of your tea. And moving to stand up. He reaches out to you trying to get you to stay. 

“C’mon let me at least walk you back to the base.” You can’t help but see the pleading in his eyes his usual smile warms your heart. You go up and place a kiss on his cheek. 

“It’s okay Johnny, I need to go into town anyway.” You smile your hand patting his chest, you can feel the tight muscles under your hand only making it harder to turn away. But you pull your hand off his chest and head for the door.

————————

You make it two weeks having to almost actively avoid Johnny. Since whatever mission he was supposed to be on was cancelled he’d been helping round the base with all kinds of different things. You would bump in to him all the time, your eyes always betraying you and wandering to him whenever he was in your view. He spent a lot of time with Simon, the ‘big scary skull guy’ some of the other nurses would call him. 

“I heard his face was burnt off in a horrible accident.” One of them said one day as we were eating lunch in the mess. Your eyes had barely left Johnny’s face he was sat a few tables ahead of you. He seemed to like the fact you were always watching him. His eyes meeting yours and smiling. Sometimes you would look up and it would Simon's eyes staring you down. His gaze would always send shivers up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand up. The nurses giggling as they spread rumours about him. It was enough to piss you off, making you snap at them about spreading rumours like that.

“We’re not in secondary school anymore! Show some respect.” You snapped leaving the table. You knew you could feel Johnny’s eyes digging into you. 

When you made it home you welcomed the rest. Your small London apartment had been rented out for the few months you had been away, the place was going to need a good clean tomorrow. The thought of sleeping in a bed that had been home to a stranger for 5 months felt icky so you ended up curling up on the sofa turning the TV on for background noise. Your mind turning to Johnny. Wonder what he’s doing? Think he’s still at the base?

Your mind somehow turned to Simon too, thinking back to all the rumours you’d heard. None of them even remotely sounding plausible. Who cares, he has his reasons for the mask, it’s none of my business. Your phone buzzed and you reached over to pick it up. 

Make it home safe? 

It was Johnny, he hadn’t texted you since the coffee date. Well date was the wrong word. 

Yeah.

You hover over the send button wondering if this was a good idea or not. You take a deep breath in and hit send throwing the phone to the other side of the couch going back to watch whatever distraction was on the TV. You don’t even remember falling asleep.

You’re woken by a knock at the door, you look out the window the sun is peaking through the clouds, you check your watch its 10am. There is another knock. You pull yourself off the couch stiff from sleeping in such an awkward position.

“I’m coming.” You call yawning, looking through the peep hole. 

What the fuck? 

You open the door. 

“Johnny?” You ask shocked.

“Hey,” He says, his smile radiating off his face, his hair is a mess he looks like he’s barely slept. You look at him in stunned silence shaking your head. 

“I wasn’t completely honest with you.” He says. “Can I come in? I’ll be quick I promise.” 

“Not really the best opening line if you want to get into someone's flat.” You say.

“Scouts honour.” He says holding up 3 fingers. You roll your eyes and step aside so he can come in. 

“When I said it was complicated, it’s not cos I’m married to the job…” He trails off standing in your kitchen so there is at least a foot distance between you two. 

“I am married, to Simon.” Your mouth falls open at the revelation.

“Simon Riley?” you ask, almost shaking your head in disbelief.

“Yeah,” He shrugs.

“So you’re gay?” You say, but it feels like a question. 

“Yeah, well Bi, both of us. That’s why it’s complicated.” You shake your head not quite understanding. He seemed nervous all of a sudden.

“Well, we both still like women, and, you know-or I guess you don’t know-we experimented threesomes and what not.” He ran his hand through his hair. “There is something different about you, we’ve both been obsessed with you, can’t get you out our heads.” 

“Both?” You ask, your mouth still hanging open. 

“Aye, Simon’s not good with words though, or at least not till he gets to know ya.” He chuckles running his hand through his hair again. You take a deep breath out.  

“What do you want Johnny?” You ask. Is he asking me for sex? A threesome? 

“Have coffee with me and Simon.” He says.

“That’s it coffee?” You ask. 

“Yeah.” He says nodding. 

“You came all the way to my flat to ask me to have coffee with you and Simon?” You fold your arms, you can’t tell if you feel disappointed it’s not sex or annoyed that he’s basically invaded your privacy for something so trivial. He shrugs. You close your eyes for a second thinking about it. You sigh, it’s not like you have anything better to do while you’re on leave, and it is only coffee. You take a big breath in opening your eyes. Johnny’s smiling again, the smile that makes your heart skip a beat and the butterfly's wake up. 

“Okay.” You nod, You don’t get chance to finish your thought cos he’s thrown his arms round you squeezing you. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He says breaking from the hug. Your cheeks are definitely red now after feeling his body pressed against yours. You can’t help smiling. He reaches over for the door handle.

“I’ll text you a time and a place,” you nod as he goes out the door.

“Hey Johnny how did you find my address?” 

“A friend of a friend,” he smiles up at you from the stairs. You shake your head in disbelief. What the hell just happened?   

Next part AO3 link soontm

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 9 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): use of the d-slur, the one for lesbians. use of the q-slur, the one that’s been taken back.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 10

You lost track of time, mind consumed by Regina's mouth on yours. The feel of her lips, her hands playing with the hairs at the back of your neck, made you tingle. You didn't know much about actual technique when it came to kissing, but taking cues from and mirroring Regina seemed to work. When she opened her mouth and bit your bottom lip, you chanced a little tongue. Met with welcome, the kiss deepened. The sensations had you shivering, hands gripping tightly at Regina's waist.

"Bed, now," Hazy and a little slow, you chased Regina when she pulled away, making a pathetic little sound at the loss of her. She stood up and pulled you with her, roughly pushing you onto your back. Sprawled on the bed, you could only watch as she climbed over you. Soon, her lips descended down on yours again and your eyes blinked shut.

Then, startling you like a bucket of cold water thrown onto you, her hands snuck under your shirt. Her nails brushed at your ribs and you, despite the nervous excitement bubbling, began to feel apprehensive.

"Reg," You mumbled, hands moving from her shoulders to her upper arms. "Reg, I- hold on."

"What?" She kissed down your cheeks to your neck.

"Hold on, I-" Your breath hitched, the tickle of her lips in such a sensitive place hindering your ability to speak. "I don't wanna have sex."

As if shaken from a trance, Regina pulled away abruptly. Her hands slid out of your shirt and rested on either side of your torso, looming above you. The dim, warm tinted lamp light from the nightstand made her hair, hanging around you, seem like a halo. Or a canopy.

"You don't want to have sex." She said, voice a little hoarse and eyes betraying something until she pulled the shutters closed. "You're lucky I'm letting you get this far."

You stared up at her, stunned. "What? Letting me? You're on top of me."

"I know you want this. You've been wanting this for a long time. I've seen the way you look at me, the way you act around me." She spoke fast as if she was trying to convince both you and herself.

Panic was beginning to constrict around your throat. It took a while to find your voice.

"Reg, I'm sorry, but-"

"You should be sorry." She crawled away from on top of you and stood up. You leaned up on your elbows to keep looking at her. "You should be so sorry."

"I- I am," You tried to reassure her, tried to hold down your own hurt. "I just thought this was a little fast."

She rolled her eyes at you, though the action seemed jilted. "You've been pining the whole time we've been friends, I'd say it's been long enough. And now, when you have all you want offered to you, you reject it."

"Is this what this is about? Rejection? Regina, I just meant not yet."

"You're so fucking full of yourself." She accused, pointing a finger at you. The whole display was made weaker by the glistening in her eyes and the redness covering her from neck to ears.

"You think you can walk into my life, cause all sorts of chaos, take my family from me, and then reject me?" She hissed, gesturing with her arms all the while. You swallowed, unsure of what you should do.

She was firing insults at you and the only thing you could think to do was sit there and take it.

"Chaos? I'm not trying to take your family from you, Reggie, where's this coming from?" You stood up, feeling too awkward to be on the bed.

"You think I haven't seen the way you act around my mom or my sister? You want to be me so bad, you're acting like they're your family. They're mine and you're never gonna have them! You're never gonna have a family!"

You reeled back, offended by the uncalled-for insult.

"You have the gall to come to my home, my family's Thanksgiving dinner, acting all holier than thou meanwhile Kylie fawns over you and mom dotes on you."

"Are you jealous? They love you, Regina." Your ability to argue was getting flimsier by the minute, the stinging in your eyes inhibiting any power you could've drawn from.

"Jealous? You think I'm fucking jealous? I have everything and you have nothing!"

"I don't think that's true, Reg. I think that you're hurt and saying things you don't mean."

"You always put words in my mouth, try to manipulate me and change me into someone you think I should be. I'm good the way I am!"

"Change can be good, Reg, I just-"

"God, you're actually so insufferable. Genuinely, I cannot stand to be around you. I hate you." She turned away from you, hands going to her hair and tugging. "I don't need to change. I hate that you try to make me. I hate that you've already done it, with your fucked up mind games."

You blinked rapidly and breathed in deeply, trying to stay calm. She was just being destructive because she was hurt. She didn't mean any of it. She was just earlier kissing you. Didn't that count for something?

"I don't play mind games. I just wish you were kinder."

"You wish I was this and that, and what about me?" She whirled around and strode up to you. "I am this way. I am not kind, I'm not soft, and I thrive."

"Are you thriving, Reg?"

"Do not call me what stupid name!" She yelled, getting right in your face. You flinched back, startled and scared. "Oh, you're gonna cry now that your other tactics don't work anymore? I see right through you, you freak."

"Don't yell at me, Reggie." You said, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. You wiped at your eyes furiously. "I'm sorry, okay, for rejecting you, for trying to change you. I didn't mean to manipulate you."

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want to you." She hissed. "I'll fucking ruin your life. I'll tell people you're a lesbian and what you tried to do to me."

"What?" You breathed. "What do you mean? What I tried to do to you- do you hear yourself?"

"I hear myself, jorts, and so will everybody else when I tell them what a disgusting, perverse little dyke you are."

You wouldn't have described it as something snapping, but you'd had enough by then. It stung, hearing that from her, of all people. It stung more than you liked to admit because you knew her.

You knew she didn't mean it, she was lashing out, and desperately trying to cling to the power she'd lost the moment she'd been vulnerable with you- kissed you.

You didn't want to feel it, so you were mean instead.

"Just like you did to Janis then. Did you kiss her too and when you got scared you decided to ruin her life. Is that how it went?" You laughed bitterly and before she could interrupt, went on. "Is that how you're gonna live your life, Regina? Anytime you feel those dirty, lesbian urges you'll use some innocent bystander to sate your lust and then, because they know too much, you ruin them? Sounds very sustainable."

"How dare you accuse me of being that," Her face was scrunched in anger, red like the devil.

"Oh, I dare, I seem to recall you were just kissing me, on top of me, hands up my shirt. You're not fooling anybody, Reg, you're a filthy queer just like me." You were aiming to hurt now, wanting her to feel like you did. "The truth is, Regina, that you fucking hate yourself. You hate yourself and you just don't know what to do with yourself so you make everybody around you feel the exact same way."

"No, that's not true, I-" Seeing her face crumble, her posture turn defensive, stoked the fire of your anger. You wanted her to hurt, wanted to punish her for leaving you back then and insulting you now.

"You're like some shitty reincarnation of Heather Chandler, all high and mighty until you're inevitably toppled by some nobody you were so sure was so below you that they couldn't even pose a threat."

"Great film analysis there, loser." Regina quipped weakly, already backing down. You weren't done, though.

"It's only a matter of time before Cady Heron pours you a glass of drain cleaner too, and I'll be looking forward to the day." You sniped, watching as Regina's lip curled in an exaggerated show of being unaffected. You knew her. You knew she'd seen Heathers and you knew the parallels weren't pleasing to the eye. You knew you were going too far, but you couldn't stop.

"You think you're such a martyr, you think that-"

"I thought we were friends, Regina! All I wanted was to be your friend. Sure, I liked you, but that didn't have to mean anything until you kissed me."

"It meant something the whole time! You can't act like it was nothing, our whole friendship is tainted by it!"

"Get over yourself, Regina, you could've ignored it like you do every flaw you have!"

"I don't have flaws, I'm above that." She scoffed, but the tremor in her voice told you that even she didn't think that was true. "I'm doing everyone a favour by showing who's on top."

"Who are you? A fucking dictator? Is that how you truly see yourself? Because I see a scared little girl, confused and angry, taking it out on the easiest targets."

"Nobody gets to feel okay when I feel like this! It's not fair! It's not fair they get to be happy and I have to be like this all the time! I hate this and they deserve it!"

You fought to ignore your heart breaking for her, how her words and obvious cries for help made you want to bleed for her. You'd stood idly and let her hurt you for long enough, it was about time you stood up for yourself.

"Oh, well, I'm so sorry then. I'm starting to fucking get Janis. Maybe I could've come up with the Homecoming sprinkler prank myself. Maybe I should've let you use the lard for your face."

You regretted it the moment the words left your lips.

A beat, both of you staring at each other, faces slack and chests heaving from all the screaming, regret and betrayal swirling in the air like a toxic tornado, passed.

"You knew?" Regina whispered, suddenly so quiet the wind from your sails wooshed away. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"I... I did." You looked down. Fuck. You'd fucked up. You'd insinuated you wanted to see her die. You didn't want that at all. Tears sprung to your eyes again and you pressed the heels of your palms to them.

Could this even be fixed at this point? You should've just shut up and it wouldn't have escalated like this. You knew why she'd reacted the way she did, you knew, but you hadn't been able to stay level-headed when she'd started coming at you.

"Get out." She spoke normally, volume steady. She was shaking, you could see that even with your faltering vision.

"I'm sorry, Reg, I really am. I should've told you. I shouldn't have said those things to you. I'm sorry."

"I said get out."

Unable to hold it any longer, a sob burst out and you decided to leave before you humiliated yourself any further. You grabbed your overnight bag and practically ran out of the room.

You should've been quieter because Mrs George came to see who was stomping down the stairs so late. She had a wine glass in hand, a silken robe tied at her waist, and a worried look on her face.

"Oh, hi, I packed some leftovers for you to- oh, honey, what's wrong?"

"It's- it's nothing, Mrs George." You hiccuped and looked away, embarrassed by your crying. You couldn't look her in the eye. Did you want her to be your mom? Did it matter when Regina clearly saw it that way even if it wasn't true? Taking any comfort from her now felt like proving her right.

"It doesn't seem like nothing. Why don't we go sit and you can tell me what happened. Did Regina say something mean?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, please."

Mrs George sighed. "There's leftovers in the fridge for you." She lingered as you passed. "Honey?"

"What?" Usually, you didn't have the heart to be so rude to her.

"You're welcome here anytime." She smiled at you gently. Clearly, she was experienced in dealing with volatile teenagers. You turned and headed for the kitchen.

Walking home, bag on your shoulder and various containers of delicious food in your arms, you felt numb. You'd left through the garage door, grabbing your clothes from the mudroom as you went, but you still had on the sweatpants.

Tears dried on your cheeks, eyes swollen and nose stuffy, you didn't know what to do. Snow was falling and the streetlights made the scene look more beautiful than was warranted. You felt empty, hollowed out like you'd spilt your guts, heart, and most other internal organs on the floor of Regina's bedroom.

You got home, put the leftovers in the fridge, and stood in the kitchen. Swallowing on a dry mouth, throat scratchy, you figured there was little else you could do other than smoke a cigarette.

You stepped onto the porch and sank down onto the bench swing. Lighting up and inhaling, you closed your eyes as the smoke passed through you.

Regina by the poolside in her bikini, Regina eating pizza on your couch, Regina on the passenger seat of your car, Regina smoking a cigarette with you under the bleachers.

That was all gone, then.

Notes: I was a little wary of having the chapter be only the argument, but it got so long that I figured it'd be nice to have the next chapters work towards a resolution straight away. No need to stretch out the acute misery for any longer than necessary. I'll say, though, that just like IRL something like this isn't just fixed right away. So look forward to more chapters! This is getting so long. I started writing this like, hey, a cute oneshot with a butch OC! Here we fucking are.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared, @yellowwallflowers, @scarlettbitchx, @ayoungexwife, @cyberbonesworld, @syddie-reads, @screechcat, @theenglishswiftie,@gabby-duhh, @sweetmissnothing, @masterofpuppets-10, @l1lass, @starved-mortal

[lunarmoves]

who i see, looking back at me (ch3)

pairing: sebastian solace x reader

mentions: post-urbanshade fic, no use of y/n or pronouns, u are his partner <3, hallucinations, non-sexual intimacy, yearning the yearning!!, touch aversion, hurt/comfort, tentative reconnecting, mild dissociating :)

a/n: i lied btw, there are now 5 chapters instead of 4. if u guys see the number increase again, know it was against my will. the characters do whatever tf they want, apparently. anyways, this chapter simultaneously feels like so much happens and also nothing at all. have fun!

word count: 12.3k+

masterlist | part two

ao3 link

You dreamt of a face, looming over your own as you laid supine on something soft. 

Everything felt muddled—like you were sunk deeply underwater and still continued onward in your neverending descent. Details eluded you. Any sharp edges or angles were softened into nebulous clouds of seafoam green and teal, with light that gently painted the planes of your face in a tender touch. A quiet pressed along the sides of your head, stifling in its presence. You could not move. You were weighed down by something you could not define, your vision hazy and unfocused. 

When you closed your eyes, the backs of your eyelids felt like they were awash in blue. Blue, blue, blue. Infinite, it seemed. Just like the ocean, a distant part of you thought.

You breathed in and out. Calm. Quiet. Then, you opened your eyes. Properly, this time.

The ceiling of your room was coated in shadows broken apart only by a fragile light coming from your slightly parted curtains. You stared, gaze half-lidded, up at it. Not really seeing it. Not really processing. Distantly, you could feel the pull of sleep once more. But you could not bring yourself to return to it. Could not manage to fall back into a slumber even if you tried. 

So you dragged yourself up until you were sitting in bed, blanket sprawled across your legs. Your upper body slumped like you were a puppet cut from its strings. And you just stared forwards. 

Sebastian��fake Sebastian, not real Sebastian—stared back. 

You didn’t move a muscle. You only watched him—unblinking, eyelids heavy like they were weighed. There was something rooting you to your bed, a heavy pit in your gut that made it difficult to do anything other than stare. 

It was quiet. So, very, quiet. 

“Why are you still here?” you murmured after what felt like hours and hours of sitting there. Dawn had long passed, the bright light of the sun poking its way into your room to splay across the floor. You blinked slowly at him—nonchalant as he was where he stood across from the foot of your bed all this time.

His gaze lowered as his smile widened to show off each and every one of his teeth. It was not a kind look. A chill ran its fingers down your spine. 

“You know why,” was all he said. He continued to stare at you, his hands tucked inside his pockets. Waiting, almost. Maybe even expectantly. 

Your jaw tensed and when you swallowed, you could feel the dryness of your throat. Your gaze flicked over to your closed bedroom door, then back at him again. You did not like this.

“I’m working on it,” you whispered, momentarily closing your eyes so you could grip at the unsteady pieces of yourself and pull them together. Even now, you could still see all that blue, etched into your eyelids. Blue and gray and gray and blue. Soft and unfamiliar. 

You sighed—long and deep and vaguely unsteady. Then you turned away. 

Scrubbing a hand down your face, you rolled your shoulders and leaned over to grab your phone from the nearby nightstand. Clicking it on, you squinted down at the time. Shit. If you didn’t get a move on, you’d be late for work. You slipped out of bed, bare feet coming into contact with the cool floor. There was a certain grogginess that still lingered in your body and mind. You yawned and rubbed at your eye as you shuffled over to your door. But before you could open it, you hesitated and took a moment to listen beyond it. 

There was nothing. Not a peep or a shift. Looking down at the crack between the door and the floor, you saw only darkness. No faint light seeping through it—like there wasn’t anyone there. Doubt was beginning to sink its unrelenting tendrils into your body. It was so easy to imagine that the room just past your bedroom door was vacant. That there was only your couch and your television and your coffee table. Still and lifeless. A breath being held before the inevitable chaos of morning. 

But no, you told yourself again and again and again. This was real. If you closed your eyes, you could still feel the cool, hard texture of Sebastian’s hand in yours. The smooth metal of his ring as you ran your thumb over it. This was real, and you would keep repeating it to yourself for as long as it took to properly settle in.

You sighed, long and silent. Well, the day wasn’t going to wait for you to start. 

Gripping at the doorknob, you quietly cracked the door open and squinted into the dim light of your living room. It was darker than usual—an explanation made imminent when you glanced at your windows to see their curtains had all been tightly closed. You could still see sunlight fighting to make its way through the thin material, so it wasn’t like it was completely dark. You just had not expected it, really. 

Turning your gaze back towards the contents of the room, you noticed Sebastian had moved some things around. Not by much. The couch was pushed back a little and the coffee table was off to the side of the television instead of in front of it. All to make space for Sebastian’s large body—tightly coiled as it was in the spot between the couch and television. 

You lingered curiously for a moment over the way his tail looped around like a snake to form a makeshift bed for him. And when you finally glanced over to his face, you saw that he was already watching you. Something in your gut jumped slightly when you made eye contact with him. Over his head like some sort of shawl was the blanket you’d gotten him last night—a defense against the yawning sunlight, most likely. 

“Good morning,” you greeted to break the silence, though soft enough to not disturb the sleepy morning atmosphere. 

“G’mornin’,” he murmured back at you, lifting himself up from his tail to squint blearily at you through the dim. His voice was raspy and deep with the edge of sleep. Fatigue. It made something in your stomach twinge. 

He raised himself up, dropping the pillow he’d been hugging to stretch out his arms—strange to look at, honestly, with three of them attached to his torso—and tugged at the lure on his head to turn it on. You shuffled over to the bathroom to brush your teeth in the meantime and found yourself wondering if you should offer him a toothbrush. Not that it would do much, you thought to yourself as you ran the small bristles along your teeth. His teeth were large and sharp—jutting in his mouth like the jagged edge of a mountain. The teeth of a predator. 

And wasn’t that strange to think about? You suppressed a shiver. 

You supposed it wouldn’t hurt to give him one, even though you were sure he’d probably have a difficult time holding the tiny thing in his hand. Might even accidentally break it, honestly. 

After you finished refreshing up in the bathroom, you exited it and caught his eye almost immediately. He watched you in a nearly lazy manner, head propped atop a hand from where he was using his tail as a rest of sorts. 

You jutted your thumb behind you at the bathroom. “There should be spare toothbrushes in the cabinet if you want to use one.” 

Sebastian blinked at you slowly, then opened his mouth to purposely run a light blue tongue over the front of his teeth. He smacked his lips together and gave you a look. 

“Don’t think you got anything that can deal with these nasty things,” he said dryly. You rolled your eyes at his response. 

“It’s better than nothing,” you replied with a shrug and turned to shuffle back over to your bedroom to grab your work clothes. “You can at least use some mouthwash.” He only hummed after you, not moving an inch even as you could feel him continuing to follow you with his gaze. 

Your clothes were thrown on in record time and you grabbed your work bag from the back of your bedroom door to head over to the kitchen. Rubbing at your chin, you opened the refrigerator and took a moment to peer at its contents. You had enough leftovers for another day, but that wasn’t accounting for Sebastian and his… larger form. You glanced over at your sink and saw that there were no dirty dishes in there from last night. It didn’t seem like he had eaten anything. You frowned. Maybe you should go grocery shopping.  

“I think I’m gonna go to the store after work,” you called out at him as you grabbed ingredients for a quick sandwich to make for your lunch. “Anything you want in particular?” 

There was a thoughtful hum—so low and close that you jumped slightly and looked over your shoulder to find that he had followed you into the kitchen. He loomed almost directly behind you, his hair slightly mussed from the blanket he’d had over his head. How you hadn’t heard him slip into the tiny space, you would never know. 

He seemed to hesitate as you watched him, your arms full of bread and condiments. Then, “Actually, can you grab me a burger and a pack of Marlboros?” 

You paused, processing his request in your mind. “Sure,” you eventually said, nudging the refrigerator’s door closed with your hip. Grocery shopping could wait for another day. “We can do takeout for dinner, I suppose. But…” It was your turn to hesitate, and as you took in the way he clasped two of his hands together—not quite able to meet your gaze—you felt your eyebrows crease. “You… still smoke?” You didn’t think he’d have access to cigarettes in a, well, underwater facility. It’d certainly force him to quit cold turkey.

He shrugged idly as you headed over to the tiny kitchen table to dump all your ingredients on it and start slapping together a simple sandwich. “Yeah, sometimes I was able to get a pack when they upgraded my living arrangements,” he said vaguely, his eyes focused on your hands. He turned to look out at the living room. “Helps take the edge off, y’know?” 

Your head bobbed in some semblance of understanding, even as your lips pulled down in a frown. “Well, okay,” you told him warily, briefly glancing up at him. “Just… try not to make it a habit, alright?” Again, you mentally added.

He snorted and suddenly seemed very interested in toying with his lure. “Right.” 

Your sandwich was made and packed neatly away into your bag. The ingredients were put back in their proper locations. You did a final pat down to make sure you had everything, then slipped out of the kitchen with a banana clutched in your hand as a meager breakfast. You had to scoot around the thick curls of Sebastian’s tail, the muscles just under his scales shifting as he moved to accommodate for your path. You didn’t want to step over him. Everything seemed so cramped, all of a sudden, and you weren’t sure how that made you feel exactly. 

No use deliberating it now. You were running late. 

“Again, help yourself to anything,” you told him as you tugged on a light jacket by the front door and bent down to make quick work of your shoes. “I’ve got some books laying around if you’re bored and the T.V. remote should be somewhere if you wanna watch something.” 

“I think I’ll manage,” you heard him reply, his voice low and amused. 

You exhaled through your nose. Straightening up, you fixed your clothing—doing a final check of your reflection in a mirror you had hanging on the wall near the door—then finally looked towards him.

Him, Sebastian. As he curled in front of you a short distance away after following behind you like an ever present shadow. Hands clasped together with his half-lidded gaze and golden lure gently illuminating the space around you. 

(“I’m out for work!” Sebastian called, his voice echoing through your apartment to reach where you were in the bedroom.

“Okay!” you called back, preoccupied with picking out what you were going to wear for the day. Hmm, beige or burgundy? “Be safe!” 

There was a beat of silence. Then:

“Um, excuse me,” Sebastian’s disembodied voice said dryly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

You snorted and rolled your eyes as you set your clothes down on the bed. Exiting the room, you met his expectant look with your own amused one while you walked over to him waiting by the door. 

He bent down closer towards you once you stopped in front of him, raven hair framing the sides of his face. Your hands found the collar of his jacket, where you fixed it properly so that one of the flaps wasn’t raised. Honestly, how did he not notice it before? There was a mirror on the wall right next to the door.

“Bye,” you told him purposely, tilting your head back so you could press a kiss to his waiting lips. He tasted faintly of nicotine and frozen waffles—a rather… interesting combo, you supposed. You could feel the way he smiled smugly against your mouth. He hummed into the kiss, and you broke away to give him a small grin. “That better?” 

“Much, thank you,” he replied, a certain twinkle to his gaze as he stared adoringly down at you. His cheek dimpled on his right. “And don’t you ever forget again. There’ll be a price to pay and I’m afraid you won’t like it.” He paused, then shrugged. “Or maybe you will.”

“Oh shut up.” You slapped lightly at his chest and shoved him towards the door with a laugh.) 

You took a deep breath. In, then out. Silent. It felt like an infinity resided in the few seconds you both stood there. Waiting.

Your lips pressed together, and you eventually gave him a small, unsure smile. 

“…Bye,” you said, opening the door to let in a small stream of sunlight. His eyes squinted slightly at it, but you found you couldn’t quite look at him. How the tables have turned. “Be back later.” 

The light of his lure dimmed slightly. “Have a good day,” he murmured with a gentle wave of his third arm, something indescribable to his gaze that you couldn’t quite make out before the door had already been shut in his face. 

Your stomach churned, upset and tight. 

As you drove to work, you just couldn’t get that image out of your head. Sebastian, in the middle of your tiny living room. Too large. Too much. His body held in a way where he seemed to be pulled towards you, yet also…. not. Subtle enough that any less observant person would not have noticed. 

You sighed, a deep and long thing that did nothing to ease the tension lining your shoulders. 

Work was busy, not allowing you to sink too deeply into your thoughts as you darted around the clinic. A reprieve, almost, from the events of the last couple of days. You were grateful, but by the end of your shift, you were back at square one. Always, your mind drifted back to him. Him, him, him. You knew nothing else. 

Standing on line at the nearest fast food joint, you stared unfocused at the menu displayed on a small flat screen television behind the counter. How much did he even need to eat now anyways? You weren’t entirely sure, but even the size of his torso was so much more that you were certain it was nowhere near the amount you ate on a daily basis. Were there things he couldn’t eat anymore? Were there things he was partial to? There was a conversation to be had, especially if you were to go grocery shopping sometime in the not-so-distant future. You didn’t want to poison him by accident or something. 

When it was your turn to order, you got a sandwich and fries for yourself. For Sebastian, you bought a triple decker burger, then—after pondering it with furrowed brows—you ordered another. And two extra large fries. And a couple bottled drinks. Hopefully it would be enough for now. If not then, well, he could raid your kitchen.  

After a quick run into a convenience store for the rest of his requested items, you started on your way home. The drive was quick, the golden glow of the sun dipping to kiss the horizon casting itself gently through the windshield of your car. You pulled into the gravelly driveway of your cottage and grabbed your bags from the passenger seat. Then, you locked up your car and bustled over to your front door. The curtains you could see just behind the front-facing windows were still tightly drawn. 

As you unlocked the door, you called out an “I’m home!” and shuffled properly inside. Silence greeted you. Closing the door was like pinching the flame of a candle to douse it, a fragile darkness taking over. You looked around, blinking in an attempt to get your eyes to adjust faster. 

You could just make out Sebastian’s form coiled in front of the couch. He was staring down at something in his hands, but you couldn’t quite make out what, exactly. Toeing off your shoes, you gently placed your work bag on the ground next to them and picked your way over to him. 

“Sebastian?” you murmured, your hands gripping at the fast food bag as you came to a stop somewhere to his right. Faintly, there was the smell of fish. It felt like you were standing in a bubble that resided outside of time—if you even exhaled too loudly it would pop and the moment would be lost forever. 

His ear fin twitched slightly, and his head jerked like he was glancing at you from the corner of his eye before looking back down at his hands. You waited for him to speak, your gaze trained on the side of his face—unreadable as it was. 

“What’d you keep this old thing for?” he eventually rasped out. You peered down at his hands to see he was holding onto the flannel you usually kept hanging on the back of your bedroom door. You hadn’t touched it in… a while. But it still hung there, unwilling as you were to pack it away out of sight. His thumbs smoothed over the checkered fabric. “Hardly seems worth saving.” 

“It was your favorite,” you replied simply as you continued to observe him. He only grunted. The faint glow from his eyes looked airbrushed along his hands and arms. It made you feel as though you were underwater. You found yourself adding, “I kept some other things, too.” 

“Did you, now?” He hummed and shot you a sharp grin. “Couldn’t get rid of me even if you tried, huh?” It was a weak attempt at a joke, you knew. 

“No,” you told him, gaze softening. “Never could.” 

Sebastian exhaled, long and faint and vaguely unsteady. You held your hand out, and after one long, contemplative moment, he gently dropped the flannel onto your palm—his grip nearly mechanical as he released it. Your fingers curled into the soft clothing. 

“Here,” you said as you offered him your other hand holding onto the fast food bag. “Go set the table. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

He cleared his throat and carefully took the bag from your grip. With an unoccupied hand, he gave you a salute. “Yoooouuu got it, boss!” There was a cheer to his voice that you knew was forced, but you didn’t point it out.

Instead, you rolled your eyes and slowly made your way to your room, a soothing light flickering on behind you from Sebastian tugging on his lure. Well, at least you wouldn’t have to worry about your light bill now, you thought wryly to yourself. Shaking your head slightly, you hung the flannel back in its designated spot. Then, you beelined straight for your closet and spent a bit digging around until you located that box of Sebastian’s things. Unsealed and unassuming. You shifted it around in your hold, drumming your fingers along the cardboard thoughtfully. 

When you arrived at the kitchen, you saw that Sebastian had neatly laid out everything from the bag onto the wooden table. Wrapped sandwiches, cartons of fries, bottles of drinks. In one of his hands resided the pack of cigarettes that you had tucked into the bag after purchasing them from the store. The accompanying lighter you got for them was in his other hand, and he rotated it around idly for a moment before pocketing it and the Marlboros in his jacket. 

You noticed he had moved one of the chairs away from the table to take its spot, his tail coiled underneath him. You guessed it was just easier for him to avoid any furniture at all, given his size. Especially a small table chair like that. You walked over and set the box down on an unoccupied surface of the table. 

“It’s not much,” you said as you pushed it slightly towards him. His gaze flicked down to eye the partially open flaps. “But well… I just couldn’t give them away.” 

“What’d you end up doing with all my stuff anyways?” he asked curiously as you wandered over to the sink to wash your hands—stepping carefully around his tail occupying the space of your kitchen. There was a light shifting sound as he poked around in the box that stopped almost as soon as it had started. The light illuminating the kitchen dimmed ever so slightly. His tail twitched behind him.

“Sold them,” you replied as casually as you could, drying off your hands and making your way back to the table. “Or donated. Gave your mom some things too.” 

As you sat down, Sebastian lowered himself so that he wouldn’t tower over you from where he was positioned across the table. It didn’t do much. You still felt like you were sitting before a minor giant, forced to lean back in your seat lest you strained your neck looking up at him. You had to suppress a frown. He tapped his fingers atop the table’s surface. You noticed the box was no longer sitting where you’d originally placed it. In fact, he had set it on the ground—out of sight, out of mind. You did not acknowledge it. 

“Did you give her my guitar?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully, but you shook your head. He frowned. “My Xbox?” Another shake of your head. “Damn. Lucas didn’t want them?” 

“Nope.” 

“My most prized possessions,” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gone, just like that.” 

“My bad,” you said dryly, reaching out to grab your sandwich and unwrap it. “I should’ve known to keep them for when you would obviously return.” 

He clicked his tongue. “Shame on you for not having the foresight to do so, honestly.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh shut up and eat your food.” 

He smirked and grabbed one of his sandwiches. Even a triple decker seemed so small in his hold. How was that supposed to satisfy him? You frowned into your sandwich as you took a bite, trying not to make it obvious you were watching him as he carefully tore off the wrapping with the tips of his fingers.

He held the burger close to his face, peering at it with half-lidded eyes. “I don’t even remember the last time I had a burger,” he murmured and turned it this way and that. Inspecting it thoughtfully. Some of the mayonnaise slapped into it seeped out of the sides as his grip tightened.    

The glow of his lure was like a spotlight as it illuminated everything beneath it. You and him, crowded around your little table in your little kitchen. Nothing else existed outside of it. How strange, you mulled to yourself. You could feel something stir in the pit of your stomach—following the haze of a distant memory that felt just a tad too out of reach. 

You hummed, eyeing his upper body as he finally took a bite that was large enough to demolish half of his burger at once. A lithe torso with lithe limbs attached to it. A looseness to his clothing. Even a gauntness to his face if you paid close enough attention to it past his scarf. The implications of it all settled around your neck like a noose. 

“What did they even feed you?” you wondered, gesturing at him slightly with your partially eaten sandwich. He did not tell you much, in hindsight, about his time trapped underwater. What he did on a day-by-day basis. It was purposeful, but still, you were morbidly curious.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re assuming they fed me at all,” he said as he grinned that shark-toothed grin of his.

You paused to take in his words, then felt yourself give him a concerned look. Worry creased your eyebrows together. His grin faltered minutely—so minute, in fact, that you almost thought it hadn’t at all. 

“Kidding!” he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes crinkling and smile stretching in a way that did not reassure you one bit. “I’m kidding! It was mostly fish.” You waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. It only made your frown deepen. You were doing that a lot tonight, it seemed.

“…Right,” you said, unconvinced. You nibbled on a fry, the salt deliciously coating your tongue. “I’m guessing you’re pretty sick of it, then.” Mentally, you crossed fish off your list of foods to buy at the grocery store. 

“You have no idea,” he muttered sullenly, polishing off the rest of his burger and reaching for the second. There was a glob of mayonnaise on his cheek. Your gaze softened. 

(“Baby,” you said amusedly, watching him shovel the last bits of dinner into his mouth. There was marinara sauce all over his mouth. “You’re a mess.” 

“Well that’s just rude,” he huffed, eyeing you haughtily, “you don’t see me attacking you outta nowhere like that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You picked up a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and gestured at him. “Come here.” 

He tilted his head at you but complied, leaning in closer across the table. You carefully wiped at his mouth, running the napkin tenderly over his lips and chin. You made sure not to tug too harshly on his lip ring; he’d told you before that it still bled pretty easily. He watched you with all the focus in the world, his gaze trained on your face. And when you deemed him clean enough, you gave him a little smile and tapped at the tip of his nose with your finger. His eyes crossed to look at the motion.

“There,” you said, satisfied, as you leaned back in your seat. “All clean.” 

He mirrored your movement, then set his chin on top of his fist as his eyes crinkled warmly at you. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” He grinned sharply. 

You only grinned back. “Not really, no.”)

“You’ve got a little—” You gestured to your face. When all he did was blink at you rather obliviously, you huffed out a little laugh and grabbed a napkin. For a moment—a short, inconsequential moment—you hesitated. Then, you offered it to him. “Here.” 

He looked down at your hand. And after another short, inconsequential moment, he reached out so he could take it, extra cautious to ensure his claws didn’t catch on your fingers. “Thanks,” he mumbled and wiped at his face. You only offered him a smile. 

“So!” You snagged another couple of fries, ready to push all of… that behind you. “Anything you can or cannot eat? I’m thinking of doing groceries tomorrow.” 

He hummed thoughtfully, his third hand’s fingers tapping at the table while his other two focused on unwrapping his other burger. “Not really, no. Surprisingly I kept most of my ah, digestive abilities, you could say,” he told you dryly. “Although, I seem to crave more of a, mmmm, meat heavy diet.” He smiled strangely and took a bite of his sandwich. 

“Meat heavy, got it.” You took a mental note of that. “Got any food requests, then?”

“Completos,” he said immediately, looking at you rather intently. “God, fuck, I’ve never craved anything so badly. Barros Lucos, too.”

You nodded, adding all the ingredients you would need to your list. Hot dogs, avocados, tomatoes… “Anything else?” 

The two of you spent a while coming up with meals to make over the next few weeks—which essentially amounted to Sebastian listing things he had missed or wanted with the faintest of rasps to his voice. Spaghetti, butter chicken, quesadillas. You had to grab your phone so you could make a proper list or you’d forget it all. With each one, you could feel your heart sinking deeper and deeper into your chest. An ache you were all too familiar with reared its ugly head. And you didn’t know how to deal with it. 

At one point, though—while telling you the ingredients so he could make Charquicán—something seemed to shift within him. You weren’t sure what happened. Only that he quieted down and took on a more… ruminative air. You didn’t press him when it occurred. You just offered a few other options for meals, then let a silence settle between you both as you finished up your meals. 

Eventually, though, you decided to gently prod him. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

Sebastian slowly blinked down at the table. Then, his eyes seemed to flick up towards you and off to the side. He snorted out a laugh, but you could tell it was half-hearted. “Gonna take a lot more than a penny for them,” he tried humorlessly. When you only patiently waited for him to continue, he sighed and his third arm wrapped itself around his abdomen. 

He avoided your gaze, raven hair partially covering his face. “Do you… still talk to my mom?” 

Ah. That explained it. Your tongue suddenly felt dry in your mouth. “I do. Your siblings, too.” 

His head snapped towards you, and for one split second—he looked hopeful. His mouth opened, then closed. And he hesitated, expression scrunching slightly as his hands fidgeted with each other. 

You took the chance to gently ask, “Do you… want to see them?”

“I— of course I do. Is that even a question?” he blurted, then seemed to reel himself back in. He looked apprehensive, his lips pressing together. “It’s just… I…” he trailed off. Unwilling to voice the thoughts that swirled around in his head. It didn’t take a genius to guess what they revolved around. 

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” you told him in a soothing manner. “Lucas won’t be free until next month anyways. I can invite them over around then. We have time.” 

“Right,” he forced out. He twisted the ring around his finger. “Right. Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you echoed back at him. And after taking in his closed off demeanor—his reluctance to fully face you—you decided a distraction was in order. “Alright, how about we watch a movie?” 

He agreed—lost in thought as he was—and you shooed him off to the living room while you cleaned up in the kitchen. You set the chairs back in place at the table and noticed the box was gone from where Sebastian had placed it on the ground. And when you walked over to join him by the couch, you saw that he was holding that panda plushie in one of his hands. The box sat innocently on your coffee table, flaps wide open. His thumb ran repeatedly over the plushie’s short fuzz, a distant look on his face. 

You grabbed the remote and plopped yourself down on the side of the couch he wasn’t sitting in front of. His tail curved out to the side so that it wouldn’t be in the way—a hulking mass that reached towards the front door with how he positioned it. You took a moment to compare his upper body’s presumed weight with the sturdiness of the couch. 

You cleared your throat, and he tore himself away from the plushie to look at you. “Y’know, you could probably sit on the couch if you wanted. I think it can hold your weight.” Or some of it, anyways. Definitely not with the rest of his lengthy tail. 

He made a face, disbelieving. “Are you sure about that?”

Your head swayed side to side as you considered. “Mmh, yeah. Like ninety-seven percent sure.” 

“And the other three percent?” he asked flatly. 

You shrugged and had to suppress a smile. “Well, in the event that you did break the couch… it would be pretty fucking funny.” You grinned at him when he gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on, have trust in my couch. She hasn’t failed me yet.” You gave the cushion next to you a little pat. 

He eyed you and the cushion dubiously, then seemed to cave when you only patted it a little harder. “Alright, fine. But I sure as shit am not paying for it if it does.” 

You watched as he lifted himself up—the muscles of his tail tensing underneath his scales—and carefully eased his weight onto the couch. Not too close, not too far. Just enough for there to be a foot’s worth of space between you and him. 

The moment he stopped holding himself up completely, his form sinking into the couch cushion, you felt your body inadvertently tilt towards him—off balance with the additional weight. You made a surprised sound as you caught yourself before you could fall onto him, your hands grasping at the armrest of the couch you were closest to. You scooted yourself closer to it, heart beating wildly in your ears. A low warmth crawled up into your cheeks that you willed away.

The couch creaked as Sebastian finally settled in. And after a second of you both holding your breath and waiting, you exhaled and shot him a smug look. “Told you so.”

“I don’t remember you being this annoying,” he said, though the lightness to his voice told you he was messing with you. “Were you always this annoying?” 

You scoffed and had to resist the urge to reach over to shove him. Not that it would do anything. “Shut up. What do you wanna watch?” 

He shrugged. “I’ve got years of movies to catch up on, I don’t really care.” After saying that, though, he seemed to mull it over in his head. And then quietly—so, so quietly you had to hold your breath to hear it—he mumbled, “D’you… got any new favorite movies?” 

You turned his question over in your head. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“Let’s watch those, then.” 

“Hmm.” Your gaze softened while you watched him, a warmth settling deeply in your stomach. He didn’t turn to look at you, instead electing to stare down at the plushie still in his hold. “Okay.” 

You managed to stay focused on the movie you pulled up for about a quarter of its length. And then you got distracted with stealing glances at Sebastian. He paid attention to the film for the most part—the glow of his eyes stark with him having turned his lure off—but every so often you caught him staring distractedly either at the box sitting on your coffee table or the plushie in his hand. Quiet. Contemplative in a way that was haunting. 

You debated saying something. Part of you wanted to just pretend you hadn’t picked up on anything—for his sake or your own, you weren’t sure. But eventually you gave in when he seemed too deeply lost in thought, vacant look to his eyes. 

You cleared your throat and made a show of warily eyeing the plushie in his hand. Memories from a time long passed flowed through your mind. “I hope you’re not planning to do anything with that.” 

Sebastian blinked back to the present. “Huh?” 

You nodded at the panda plushie. He looked back and forth between you and the plushie for a bit until he realized what you were implying.

“Well I can’t do it right now,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s gotta be when you least expect it.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “When I least expe—” 

Bap!

Stunned, you blinked at Sebastian as the plushie fell to your lap. There was the leftover feeling of fuzz in your mouth. He immediately started to wheeze, one of his hands slapping over his eyes while he shook with laughter strong enough to mildly shake the couch. In hindsight, you should have expected that.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s the second time so far. I need to keep a tally,” he cackled, breathless and delighted. Well, at least he wasn’t in his prior funk anymore. That was all you could ask for, really.

“Some things never change, huh?” you said dryly. You picked up the plushie and tossed it at him. He chortled some more when it harmlessly bounced off his shoulder. 

Letting out a gentle sigh, you glanced over to the television to see the movie was almost at its end. Fatigue from the day’s events was starting to press against your eyes. Ahh, you should brush your teeth and shower. Standing up, you stretched out your arms over your head. The muscles in your shoulders and back moved with the motion, your shirt riding up ever so slightly. You tugged it down and turned to look at Sebastian, his teal eyes already trained on your form—faint smile still lingering on his face from his previous laughter. 

“I’m gonna get ready for bed,” you told him and grabbed the remote to toss in his direction. “You can put something else on if you want.” 

“Aw, already?” He pouted, not bothering to pick up the remote just yet. “It’s not that late.” 

You snorted. “It’s not, but I have to get up early tomorrow. Again. Y’know, like people with jobs tend to do.” 

“Right, right, my bad. How could I forget?” Sarcasm oozed from his words. “Well, don’t let me hold you up.” He made a shoo-ing motion with one of his hands. 

You snorted again and turned on your heel to head over to your bedroom. And once you were inside, you paused once you grabbed your towel from its place behind your door. Usually, you would change your clothes in your room after showering, but… Did you really want to walk around in only your towel right now? You glanced out the door at Sebastian—who looked like he was painstakingly trying to browse other movie options using the tiny remote. You looked back down at your towel, squeezing the soft material. 

…This was stupid. You were overthinking the smallest things, it seemed. You pinched at the bridge of your nose. And after standing there feeling like your innards were knotting themselves together over and over, you forced yourself to gather up your necessary nightwear. Then, you made your way to your bathroom for the quickest shower and redress of your life. 

As you went to brush your teeth, you noticed another toothbrush sitting in the cup you used to hold your own. The bristles were, well, not destroyed exactly, but they stuck out all over the place instead of in their neat lines. A peek into the tiny trash can you kept in the bathroom revealed the remains of a toothbrush snapped in half—the bristles on that one utterly destroyed. Your bottle of mouthwash was also significantly emptier than it had been this morning. You had to suppress a smile. Mentally, you added more to your list of groceries, as well as a better toothbrush for Sebastian to use. 

Upon exiting the bathroom, your towel slung over your shoulder and dirty clothes in hand, your eyes landed on Sebastian. With his lure still off, the light from the television painted the living room in shades of navy and purple. He wasn’t paying attention to the movie he’d put on, still running his thumbs repeatedly over that plushie. You cleared your throat, and his head snapped towards you. 

“Well,” you said lightly as you walked over to your room, “I’m heading to bed. Ni—” 

“Wait—!” he cut across you, his eyes widening as he lurched slightly in your direction. One of his arms raised halfheartedly. One beat. Two beats. And then he hesitated, lowering his arm as he slouched down into the couch. He sighed—quiet, weary—and turned back around so he could stare absently at his box of things once more. “...Never mind.” 

Your mouth opened, then closed. You lingered outside your bedroom for a moment, waiting to see if he would say anything else. But when he didn’t, you gave him one more look, your lips pressing together. 

“Good night,” you whispered, one of your hands resting on the edge of the door frame. 

“G’night,” he murmured back. He didn’t look at you. This felt infinitely worse than last night.

When you finally slipped into your room for the night—heart weighed by something you could not define—you made sure to leave the door slightly ajar. 

The following morning passed similarly to the previous one, with you shuffling out of your bedroom to find Sebastian already awake. He gave you a sleepy “Morning,” and took to watching you sleepily as you scurried around getting ready for work. 

“I’ll probably be back a little later than usual,” you told him hastily as you tugged on your shoes and slung your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t wait up if you get hungry.” 

“Mmmkay.” He gave you a lazy wave from his coiled lounging in front of the couch. The pillow you’d given him was pressed to his chest, his arms tightly wrapped around it. “Have a good day.” You offered him a quick smile, lingering for only the most minuscule of moments before you slipped out the door.

You were hoping for an easy shift at work, especially with all the shopping you’d need to do afterwards, but it was not kind to you. Fatigue weighed heavily upon your shoulders as you left the clinic. There was an itch behind your eyes that you knew would only worsen over time. You huffed and buckled yourself into your car. The quicker you could get this done, the better.

You’d intended to visit your regular grocery store, but upon deliberating it while driving down one of the main roads, you decided to go to your town’s warehouse store. Buying items in bulk would probably be better for you and Sebastian. And your wallet. 

With one hand holding onto your phone and the other pushing around a cart, you went hunting for all the things you’d need. Plus some more items that your eyes caught onto and you figured wouldn’t hurt to bring home. A giant box of granola bars, for one. A couple rotisserie chickens. A container of honey crisp apples. Honestly, you could probably buy anything and he would be happy with it. He never was much of a picky eater. 

You spent some time in the cleaning supplies aisle, looking at various brushes used to scrub sinks or pans. You picked one up, weighing it in your hand and peering at the thick bristles attached to the rectangular head. A traditional toothbrush was clearly out of the question. This would have to do for him. You’d probably need way more tubes of toothpaste as well. 

At one point, you passed by a clothing aisle and took a moment to stare at various shirts and sweaters. You picked out a particularly large, black shirt and tried to imagine if it could fit over Sebastian’s long torso. Probably not, especially with his extra arm. You frowned as you hung it back up. You might have to look online for larger sizes. It was something to discuss with him later.

After making your way through the store, ensuring you got everything on your list, you headed towards self-checkout. And as you scanned each item and placed it on the large scale attached to the monitor, you were hit with just how much you bought. It was… a lot. Almost triple the amount of groceries you typically got biweekly. You nervously eyed the receipt once it was printed, then decided you shouldn’t worry too much about it. You had your savings, and if anything, you could always pick up extra shifts at the clinic. 

Once everything was packed away neatly into the trunk and backseat of your car, you drove back to your cottage. By now it was dark outside, the roads lit up by street lamps that glowed with sleepy cream-colored light. There was the smallest scattering of stars overhead, most of the sky overtaken by cool gray clouds passing lazily by. 

Eventually, you pulled into your driveway and killed the engine. Grabbing some of the items you could carry from the backseat with one hand, you rummaged around in your bag for your keys and made your way over to the door. 

“I’m home!” you called out once you opened it, letting the dim moonlight seep into the darkness of your living room. As you dropped your work bag onto the floor and gently set down the items in your hand next to it, a golden light flickered on. 

“Welcome back,” Sebastian greeted smoothly. A quick glance upwards showed him steadily making his way over from the kitchen. “Was wondering when you’d return.” 

“Admittedly, that took me longer than I’d expected,” you said with a sigh. You gestured down to the groceries on the floor. “Do me a favor and pack these into the kitchen? I’ll bring everything else in. Just shout if you don’t know where something goes.” 

“Alrighty,” he agreed easily, and you turned on your heel to make your way back over to your car to bring in everything else. The quicker this was done, the quicker you’d be able to finally relax. 

It didn’t take too long with the both of you working together, but it was a lot of groceries. Sebastian was able to carry quite a few items to the kitchen on his own—something that would have taken ages on your lonesome. It meant he had to move back and forth between the front door and kitchen, though, and you could see his tail curved all over your cottage. Over the couch, around the coffee table, looping about the kitchen. It really put into perspective just how long he was. And well, it was certainly something to ruminate on.

He didn’t seem to have any issues with putting things in their proper places, thankfully. It wasn’t like it was all too different from how you both organized things way back when. Bread in the fridge, fruits in the little basket on the counter, cereal on top of the refrigerator, potatoes in the cabinet under the sink. It was a major help to not have to pack everything up by yourself, you had to admit.

Finally, you grabbed the last few items from your car’s trunk. The large box of granola bars and a few other frozen boxed items that you stacked on top of it to make the trip easier. Holding it all precariously in one hand, you locked up your car and carefully made your way over to the front door. 

“This is the last of it,” you said as you stepped into your cottage and used your foot to close the door behind you. It was difficult to see where you were going with all the boxes in the way. You toed off your shoes and headed towards the kitchen. “Did you finish packing ev—” 

Your foot caught on something. 

You let out a yelp, lurching forward as you lost balance. The topmost boxes slipped down to the floor, landing with nearly consecutive thuds. Your heart leapt in your chest, but before you could really brace yourself for impact, something snatched you by the back of your jacket and tugged you slightly into the air. 

“Shit! Watch where you’re going!” Sebastian chastised you as you dangled above the floor for a bit before being set gently down. You blinked rapidly, still not quite processing what had happened. “Coulda busted your head right open.” 

“Sorry,” you said automatically, then glanced down to see you’d tripped right over a part of his tail—that was already shifting out of your way to make your path to the kitchen clear. You swallowed. “I— Sorry.” 

“Jeez,” he grumbled, bending down to swipe up the boxes you’d dropped. “And to answer your question: Yes, I did finish. Though I dunno where you want this to go.” 

With his third arm he brandished the sink brush at you, already having removed it from its plastic container. You blinked at it once, then gave yourself a mental kick to the behind to snap yourself out of it. Focus. Here and now. 

“Ah. That’s your new toothbrush,” you told him as you forced yourself to continue on to the kitchen. 

There was a tiny pause. “You’re joking,” he said incredulously as he followed behind you—the low shifting sound of his body your only indication.

“Nope. You’re welcome.” 

“You expect me to brush my teeth with this?” 

“Ordinary toothbrushes weren’t gonna cut it for you,” you told him amusedly as you slipped the box of granola bars atop the refrigerator and opened the freezer. You gestured at him to hand you the boxes he was holding and he complied, though he was still frowning at you like you’d just suggested the most absurd thing in the world. You rolled your eyes. “It’s better than nothing.” 

“That’s what you said about the regular toothbrushes,” he said in exasperation, then sighed. “I should have expected this,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the brush some more as he rotated it about in his hands. 

You closed the freezer door and turned to look up at him. “Did you put away the toothpaste and mouthwash, too?” 

He jabbed a finger over to the bathroom, still scrutinizing the brush. “I put them on the counter.” 

“Okay, I’ll put them away. Give me your toothbrush, I’ll put it in the cabinet.” You extended your hand, waiting for him to stop being so dramatic. He ran a hand down his face and huffed, but eventually dropped the brush onto your palm. You had to suppress a smile. Looked like you won. 

You made your way to the bathroom and exactly what you’d said you’d do. Sebastian’s brush went into the cabinet behind the mirror. The extra toothbrush sitting in your cup—with its destroyed bristles—went into the garbage can. The mouthwash and extra toothpaste were both tucked neatly away into the cabinet under the sink. You washed your hands and rolled your shoulders with a silent sigh. 

After exiting the bathroom, you tossed your jacket into your room and wandered back to the kitchen. That same fatigue from earlier was starting to make a reappearance. It laid heavy hands along your shoulders and the back of your neck. You chewed at the inside of your lip as you glanced at Sebastian—who was sweeping his own gaze across the kitchen—then at the clock on your stove. 

“I am way too tired and it is way too late to make something,” you admitted as you rubbed your hand over your abdomen when your stomach gave a little rumble. “Did you eat the rest of the leftovers?” 

“For lunch, yeah,” he replied as he flicked his head to the dish rack. The associated containers and utensils sat there drying. 

You hummed and slipped carefully around his tail to reopen the refrigerator. Might as well use some of the things you bought today. “How do you feel about cereal for dinner?”

“Don’t care, either way.” He shrugged and glanced up at the top of the refrigerator, where the boxes of cereal stood. “I saw those Reese’s Puffs you bought today. Feels almost targeted, honestly.” He sniffed. 

You grinned as you walked over to the cabinets. “That’s because it was.” 

After you grabbed a bowl and spoon for yourself, you turned around to compare it to Sebastian’s hand size while he moved one of the kitchen table’s chairs to the side again. There was no way he’d be able to comfortably use such tiny things. The bowl alone was more like a cup for him. You rubbed your chin and bent down to grab a basin and a pot spoon, the metal of each reflecting the light coming from Sebastian’s lure. This would have to do. 

You set everything down on the table, then grabbed the Reese’s Puffs, your own preferred cereal, and a gallon of milk—juggling them all in your hold carefully until you could drop them on the table. Sebastian snorted when he saw the basin and pot spoon, but didn’t say anything else. You sat down with a sigh, suddenly acutely aware of your own aching feet and pressing itch to your eyes. 

And so there you both were again. Sitting across from each other in your little kitchen.

Still strange. Still unfamiliar. 

You wondered when you would grow accustomed to it all.

Sebastian cleared his throat as he reached for the Reese’s Puffs to begin pouring it into his bowl. “So! How was your day?” 

You shrugged at him, copying his actions with your own cereal. “Tiring, I suppose. How was yours?” 

“Boring when you’re not here,” he said immediately. He poured milk into his bowl, then gestured at your own so he could fill yours as well. You pushed it closer to him and watched the stream of milk as it splashed against your cereal. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “It is?” 

He nodded and recapped the milk jug. “I told you all about me,” he said simply, “now I want you to tell me all about you. What have you been up to all this time?” 

There was a warmth settling itself in your stomach—like you’d just swallowed a spoonful of hot soup. You tried not to let it affect you so much. “I’m… not sure if there’s really much to say,” you said, a small frown splayed on your lips as you picked up your spoon. 

Sebastian flapped a hand at you. “Pssht, bullshit! There’s always a tale to tell. Come on, don’t hold out on me.” He grinned at you suddenly, sharp. “Unless you’ve got something to hide?” 

You gave him a look. “Right,” you said flatly, “like my secret job I do after working all day at the clinic.”

He snapped his fingers. “Now we’re talking!”

You snorted, then hummed thoughtfully as you swirled your spoon through your bowl. “Honestly, there really isn’t much to say,” you told him quietly, thinking back to the years and years of grief and solitude. “I work. I come home. I read or watch T.V. or play shitty songs on my ukulele.” You chuckled. “Occasionally I text some friends still living in the city. Or call your siblings or mom. Maybe I hang out with coworkers very seldomly. But mostly I just…” you trailed off, thinking about the evenings spent lost in thought at the dock or within the cove. Thinking about him, mostly. Mourning him. You shrugged. “I dunno. Daydream, I guess.” 

The gaze he pierced you with made you feel like you were being picked apart and analyzed, piece by piece. “Hmm, I see.” You were certain he knew you were not telling him everything. 

Well, you thought to yourself wryly, that makes two of us. 

It was okay, though. There were some things that were just better off left unsaid. 

“How about any work stories?” he asked after shoveling his spoon into his mouth to crunch noisily down on his cereal. “You said you work at a clinic, right? You gotta have something from your time there.” 

You mulled it over in your head. “Well, there was this one time…” 

For the rest of dinner, you recounted what tales you could remember from your job. Dramatic coworkers, strict bosses, strange patient interactions. You didn’t think some of them were all too interesting—maybe just a way for you to rant or express your incredulity at dealing with people—but Sebastian listened raptly either way, his ear fins flicking every so often. He offered his own little sardonic quips from time to time (“No way,” he drawled when you told him a patient stopped taking all their medications then was surprised when they felt awful afterwards), and it made you realize later on just how… normal things were between you both. Right then and there. 

Sitting at a too little table, in a too little kitchen. You and him, like it had always been before everything happened. 

It made you crave more. Sunk its talons into your body and filled you up with a want want want. 

Addicting. 

You watched Sebastian scrape up the last of his second helping of cereal onto his spoon, sleepily blinking at him in the quiet, comfortable aftermath of your last story. Your gaze caught onto the long sleeves of his jacket, then traced upwards to the scarf still wrapped loosely around his neck. Faintly, you recalled wandering past the clothes section at the warehouse store you went to earlier. Right. 

“What size are you?” you found yourself asking, eyeing up his jacket and trying to estimate how long it was.

Sebastian let out an offended gasp, dropping his spoon into his bowl while his third hand raised up to his chest in shock. “Why I never! Babe, you can’t just ask someone that!”

You snorted. “I was talking about your clothes and you know it. So?” 

“Why are you asking?” he asked warily, shooting you a narrow-eyed look.

“I was thinking we should order you some new things to wear,” you told him and leaned back into your chair. “You’ve gotta be tired of wearing the same fit every day, right?” 

He shrugged, his head flicking to the side slightly like he was staring out at something other than you. “I got used to it.” 

Your gaze softened. “Well, I think you deserve at least a new shirt. Maybe a sweater.” Then, to lighten the atmosphere and give him an easy out, you said, “Besides, what if I’m tired of seeing you in the same clothes, huh? What if I wanted to see you in something nicer? Ever think about that?”

Sebastian looked back at you, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he processed your words. His lips tensed together when you only smiled knowingly at him, and his cheeks darkened minutely. He opened his mouth, paused, then after appearing to consider what to do next, his lips twisted into a feigned grimace. The edges of his lips twitched. You had to hold back a laugh.

“Eugh, are you flirting with me?” he asked, one of his hands reaching up to tuck his hair vainly over his ear fin. His face scrunched up like he was wrinkling his nonexistent nose, though his lure got a smidge brighter. “You should know, I’m a married man.” He wiggled his third arm’s fingers at you, his ring glinting in the light from his lure. 

You rolled your eyes. You did that a lot with him, you noticed. You opened your mouth to respond, then found yourself darting your gaze past his torso when something blurry moved in your periphery. 

Fake Sebastian leaned against the door of your refrigerator, hands tucked neatly into his pockets as he smiled widely at you. Uncanny, almost. His eyes crinkled into crescents that still seemed to pierce right through your body like an arrow. A reminder. And for one short, inconsequential moment, you froze. 

(Teal eyes. Fingers like knives. Body covered in scales. Pungent smell of fish.)

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You forced yourself to look back at actual Sebastian, who watched you with slightly furrowed brows. Appraising you, almost. Evaluating. You smiled at him, willing your stomach to stop twisting itself into heavy knots. You were working on it. “So? Size?” 

If he found your lack of a retort suspicious, he did not make it known. Instead, he sighed and leaned back away from you. When had he gotten closer? 

He picked at the material of his jacket sleeve. “I dunno. This shit was all custom made probably.” He moved his third arm around, bringing your attention to the sleeves it had both from his jacket and undershirt. 

You frowned, tapping your finger against your chin. “Guess we’ll have to take some measurements. Gimme a sec.” You stood up, your chair making a little scraping sound as you pushed it back and beelined for your bedroom. 

Rummaging around in your closet, you let out a little “aha!” when your fingers found purchase on the cool metal of a small measuring tape. You pulled it out and scurried back over to Sebastian, your fingers already pulling at the little metal tab at the end to stretch out the flimsy tape. 

“Okay,” you said as you stood next to your chair and pulled the tape out until it was a few feet long. “This shouldn’t take too long. Let’s—”

But you found yourself hesitating as you looked up at him.

You’d… fully intended on helping him measure his waist, chest, and torso length but… As you peered at his face with his glowing eyes trained on your hands, you were suddenly struck with the startling memory of his snarl—snapping at you as he lurched backwards from your touch. The sinking pit in your stomach it caused, and the way he turned away from you like he just could not bring himself to look at you. 

“Not yet,” he’d said, strangling out the words like they were suffocating him. “Not yet.” 

Your grip tightened on the measuring tape. He continued to watch you, his mouth deepening into a frown when you didn’t say anything else. It shook you from your thoughts. You cleared your throat and abruptly loosened your hold on the tool. 

Not yet, you told yourself. Time, you just needed time.

For him and for you.

“Actually,” you said in as thoughtful a manner as you could, hoping against all that your expression was schooled into something similar. You let the tape retract into the metal body of its container and set it on the table to slide it over to him. “Take your measurements. I’m gonna clear the table and grab my laptop in the meantime.” 

When you grabbed at your bowl and his own larger basin, it looked—for one, terse moment—like he wanted to say something. It was in the way his gaze seemed to dart down to the tape, then back up at you. The way his jaw tensed, then relaxed just as quick. 

He sighed, long and quiet. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna find anything that fits… this,” he grumbled as he picked up the tiny measuring tape with thick, careful fingers. One errant flex of his hand and he could crush it rather easily. It was as unnerving as it was captivating. 

You made a noncommittal sound as you placed the dishes into the sink and grabbed the sponge to scrub them down with soap. “Eh, who knows. There might be sizes large enough on certain websites. And if anything, we can probably custom order something for you.” 

He only grumbled something indecipherable, the sound of the measuring tape being stretched out filling the air. You busied yourself with rinsing the dishes, quietly ruminating on the strange proportions of Sebastian’s body. 

His torso was quite long—almost as long as your entire body, honestly. Any shirt you got him might be… a bit short on him, but that was fine. Your one concern was how lithe he was, in addition to his length. It might cause him to get utterly swamped in whatever you would purchase. Not to mention you’d most certainly have to cut a hole in the material to allow his third arm freedom. You’d probably also have to buy shirts made of stretchable material, particularly so he could get his big head through the neck hole in the first place. 

Ahh, this was more complicated than you’d originally thought. 

It was fine, though. Anything to make him more comfortable. 

Drying your hands off on a nearby towel, you glanced over to see Sebastian still measuring his chest’s circumference—his eyes squinted in focus as he carefully pinched the tape around his body. You let him be so you could scavenge around for your laptop. You couldn’t remember where you last left it. 

Once you found it—tucked underneath the couch, of all places—you went back to the kitchen to plop yourself back down in your chair at the table. The measuring tape was already set on its surface, and Sebastian watched you silently with his arms crossed over his chest as you powered on your laptop. You placed it in the middle of the table, so that you both could see its screen properly. 

“Alright,” you said once it booted up and you opened the notepad application, “what’s the verdict, chief?” 

He told you his measurements, and you typed them up for reference. Then, the search began. It wasn’t all that hard to find a website that sold clothes for individuals on the taller side, honestly. What sucked was finding one that had a size chart that matched his own measurements well enough. Either his chest measurement was way too small, or his torso length was too long—it was just as you’d predicted. You’d have to compromise. 

Sebastian was… well… quiet, as he watched you scroll through numerous sites. Not melancholy, really, but… resigned, almost. Maybe even tense. You weren’t sure how to define it. His gaze just seemed distant whenever you glanced up at him to get a read on what he was thinking. It was not an expression you wanted to see on him—that you liked seeing on him. You cleared your throat. 

“I hear baggy, almost-crop tops are the new look,” you joked as you gestured to the size chart on one website that seemed like the best option out of the others. “What do you think?” 

“Hmm?” He blinked as he seemed to come back to himself and glanced briefly down at you. With your expectant gaze on him, his own darted to your laptop and he focused in on it with a squint. “Oh yeah, they’re right up there with skinny jeans and fedoras.” 

You huffed out a laugh. “It’s the best we’ve got that’ll kinda fit you. We can buy a couple to test them out. I can return them if anything.” 

“Whatever you say,” he said vaguely. It made your lips twitch slightly into a frown. 

“Are you… okay?” you hesitantly asked him, turning your body in your seat so you could face him properly. You hadn’t noticed until now but his lure had dimmed. Not too much to be stark, but enough that you glanced briefly up to it in concern. “It’s just… you seem out of it.” 

He didn’t reply. He only stared down at you. A quiet permeated the air, broken only by your soft breaths. The hum of your laptop’s fans. His mouth opened slightly, just enough for you to hear the small inhale he took. Then— he seemed to snap back to himself, his body going from stock still to sudden motion. 

“Just peachy~” he crooned, his eyes crinkling into upturned crescents as he shifted closer to your side of the table. “What options do they have? I’d kill for a turtle neck.” He peered at your laptop with a curious hum, lowering himself down so he’d have a better view. One of his hands braced gently along the edge of the table. 

This close—mere inches of space between you and him as he hovered just over your shoulder—you could smell that poignant, fishy odor. Stronger than it had ever been before. That sank itself into your senses and reminded you of just what you were dealing with. 

Inhuman inhuman inhuman inhuman.

Your breath got caught in your lungs for a second before you forced yourself to breathe normally. You willed yourself to focus on something else, anything else. Anything other than the blatant lack of cinnamon or gentle musk you were accustomed to. Had been accustomed to.

Deep breath in.  

Faintly—your brain inadvertently registered—beyond that piscine scent, was the smell of your detergent. The gentle, clear scent was so different that it was almost jarring. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, latching onto the sleeve of his jacket. It looked… clean. Soft.

Not the point, focus! 

Deep breath out.

“Here, see for yourself,” you said as casually as you could as you shifted your laptop better towards him. He was deflecting, but so were you. It was as clear as a sunny sky after days of rain. There was nothing you could do about it. Or rather, nothing you wanted to do about it at this time.

Eventually, though, you would have to.

But not yet.

“I can’t—” Sebastian cut himself off with a clear of his throat. You craned your head to the side to look properly at him, the way he purposely stared at your tiny laptop and not at you. “I can’t use a touchpad, I fear. My hands are, ah, too cold. And hard.” 

“Oh,” was your response, dropping from your mouth like a rock. You… hadn’t even considered that, actually. You frowned and looked at the tiny arrow keys. His fingers were too big to even properly use those, as well. It didn’t help to eradicate the coolness that was starting to spread throughout your body. You pulled your laptop a smidge closer towards you. “That’s okay. We’ll look together.” It was the only reassurance you could think of to say.

You thought he’d be pickier with what shirts he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind the ones you pointed out. There was still that… aloofness to his voice, but he seemed to get better when you found some AC/DC and KISS shirts to add to the cart. You didn’t want to buy too much in case they ended up not fitting him at all. In any case, it was a good start. 

You also ended up looking around for a website that did custom sizes after ordering from the first one. You did find one—a tailor that said they would use the customer’s measurements to adjust the clothes they had to fit their size—but you were unsure how it would work with someone like Sebastian. In any case, the two of you agreed to test it out with one of the displayed flannels on the tailor’s website, hoping no one would say anything as you punched in Sebastian’s frankly eyebrow-raising measurements and submitted the order. Maybe it would be chalked up as someone wanting a robe, or something.

When that was all said and done, you leaned back in your chair while your laptop powered off and scrubbed at your face. You were tired. You could feel it in the heaviness of your eyelids and shoulders. You were so ready to hit the—

“So!” Sebastian clasped his hands together and slithered away from you to give you some space to stretch your arms. He looked at you expectantly. “Movie?” 

Ahhh. How could you say no to him after all that?

You suppressed a tired sigh. At least you didn’t have work tomorrow. “Go pick something. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” 

“Yippee!” He gave you a thumbs up and snaked his way into the living room. You took a moment to rub at your eyes, then scooped up your laptop to head to your bedroom for your nightly routine. 

Once your teeth were brushed and your nightwear was slipped on, you trudged over to the couch and flopped down next to Sebastian. Not too close, not too far—just like yesterday. Your eyes caught onto the box of his things, still sitting innocuously on your coffee table. Its flaps were sealed shut. You didn’t linger on it. 

Sebastian already had a movie queued up on the television, and as soon as you gave him the go ahead, he carefully pressed play on the remote with the tip of his finger. 

“What movie is this?” you asked as you let yourself slump into the cushions. Your legs stretched out in front of you, your heels resting on the carpet you had on the floor.

“Pacific Rim,” he replied, reaching up to tug his lure off. “I remember wanting to watch it in theaters, but then… Well.” His voice lowered into a grumble. “Never got the chance.” 

You hummed. “Now’s as good a time as any.” 

He let out an “mmhm” in agreement.

You didn’t even make it past the introduction. 

You could already feel yourself nodding off even as an action scene played out on the screen. The darkness of the living room paired with the comfort of your relaxed body was a deadly combination. You vaguely registered movement somewhere behind your head and shoulders, but you were too far gone to really process what it was. 

There was a cool sensation on your cheek that prevented your head from slipping to the side any further.

And when you woke up, hours later in the middle of the night, you found yourself tucked neatly into bed. Blanket wrapped comfortably around your body and gentle moonlight drifting its ghostly hand across your sheets. You blinked hazily up at your ceiling, then looked over at your open bedroom door. 

The quiet drone of the television just outside followed you back into your dreams.

part four

[suguru-getos]

| Bully!Satoru Gojo x F!reader | Part 3 |

Part I, II

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Chapter Summary: After taking an off from school, you are back & Satoru is hovering around you like a looming threat. Suguru is there to defend you this time, but with your rage spiralling, you couldn’t help but ruin the two weeks of you being amicable.

Warnings: Bully!Mean!Satoru ofc, but hey he’s a pookie at heart & he’s contemplating whether to stop!! ✋ Reader-chan snapped in this chapter, soft Sugu<3

Comment down below if you want to be tagged ^^ New chapter comes out every week!

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Satoru feels upset and sick to his stomach, as someone who can be often used to people grovelling for him, being scared of him, and just respecting him as the honored one. You weren’t doing any of those and yet, you were suffering all the same. Any other girl would have chosen the easy way out, what does it need really? Apologize? Cry a little? Why aren’t you doing that?

All he could see was you going back home, the summer sun not being kind to you as you drag your feet back, after carrying his school bag for him. Suguru isn’t talking to him either. He simply said he doesn’t like to associate with feminine men who want to proclaim their ego more than their humanity. Boy that fucking stung & Satoru told Suguru to piss off before he’s beaten to a pulp. It’s not how Satoru was treating you which was a problem for him, he never hoped it would drag so much. All his blinding rage of the moment is fading off easy. He couldn’t drag this for a month for the life of him.

People love hanging out with Satoru also, despite whatever worshipping there is — he still has friends. This is surely one of the reasons they lurk around despite his intrinsic, domineering brattitude. He rolled his eyes upon realizing that he’s been standing there watching you walk away & scoffs, going inside.

Your shoulders hurt but you know his and your home is too far. You decide to use whatever pocket money you have to book a cab and leave home. Once you’ve reached, of course there are questions. Questions from your mum who’s calls you ignored. “Where were you? Why are you coming home from a fucking cab?” She snarled, raising a brow at your tired features. Your parents are normal, not too supportive not too toxic. However, normalcy when you’re imposed with external toxicity sounds toxic. Or maybe they just were… toxic. How would you decide either way? It’s not like you’ve taken trial periods of new parents to come to a decision.

“Sorry; head hurts. I’ll be in my room.” You dragged yourself across the expensive marble flooring of your home. You weren’t poor, per se… you just weren’t made privileged either.

Once you reached home, you sighed, back laid across the mattress and staring out into space. The sight of you drenched in cold water, the way your shoulders have red markings of the bag straps, all because you threw some gravy over the fucking bastard! You grit your teeth, jaw clenching. Fuck you hate him.

You hate that you’re crying again, tears and frustration bubbling in your eyes as you sniffled. Leaning your forehead against the mattress and curling up. You want to kick his ass so bad. If only this parental thing wasn’t involved…

The next day you’re not in school, your period had been unbearably shitty & so was your mental health along with migraines. The next day either, and not even the day after. Satoru is getting restless every day, walking to your class and seeing your seat vacant, walking away. Why the fuck does he not have your number? Why the fuck does it even matter… did he make you leave the school? Nah- why would you leave the school it wasn’t that bad right?

It was Friday again, four days of you not being here… you really thought maybe he would count this in the month? It’s almost two weeks over! Then again, Satoru Gojo would just push it for another four days of you serving him because you were absent. When you enter the school premises, you take a long breath, alright. No biggie, he’s just an annoying bully with Daddy’s money in his pockets.

The moment you enter, you find him lurching towards you, a beaming smile with black glasses. He looks so beautiful if he wasn’t so fucking shitty. You looked up at him and before he could say anything, “I was sick, even in companies and where you work, people are allowed to be sick. You can’t really extend the number of days because I was sick. That’s h-how it normally happens.” You mustered, defensive in your stance.

Oh… wow. He was just here to say hello, ask where you were and that if he had been too annoying that you decided not to come to school. Satoru was going to be nicer. Again, broken a little because you think so shitty of him. Not that he cares… he doesn’t… he— doesn’t…. Does he?

“Yeah, yeah I get you; damn do I scare you that much?” He chuckled, hands in his pockets. You knew you couldn’t say any of the twenty ass biting replies that you had logged at the back of your tongue. “Yeah, you’re my highschool nightmare, Gojo san.” You hummed, walking away.

He’s shamelessly following you, holding your wrist. “Didn’t say I was finished, did I?” His playfulness is gone, replaced by something carnal, icy again. You only manage to shake your head no. “Four days at home got you forgetting how to act right, hm?”

Satoru leaned down, making eye contact with you. You glanced at him back, pouting helplessly and shaking your head no. “Just- didn’t think you need me.”

He didn’t really plan on it, he just wanted to have a conversation! Why were you sick? His stomach was turning upside down at the thought of you handling Japan’s heat at 3 PM that Monday. He could’ve asked if you wanted some water… fuck this. He made this bet to make you suffer & you were suffering. What’s the problem really?

The problem was he wasn’t an asshole he pretended to be… and he didn’t think this would drag so long. Haven’t you seen other girls? They fawn over him endlessly, buzzing around him & always eager to have a speck of his attention. This is what makes him pissed off, again.

“You think a lot for someone who’s as dumb as you.” He chuckled, jabbing at your self respect once more like it’s free reign. “Sorry, tell me what is it you need from me?” You just ignore everything he says and focus on one goal. For this hellish month to end so you are free from Satoru Gojo’s clutches. Though with the way he talks to you, it does seem like you could handle your mother taunting you for months about how stupid you are after giving him the money. At least… she’s blood.

“Hey” the next voice that echoed was Suguru. He was the best friend who was around him of course. You remember his gaze, it wasn’t pity towards you when Satoru practically bore you naked in the cafeteria by spilling water over your white shirt. It was rage, subjected for Satoru & Satoru alone.

Satoru raised his brow, “Don’t interfere where you’re not needed, Suguru.” He snapped, while the latter only smiled in an annoyingly calm manner. “Wasn’t talking to you.” He simply answered your bully, looking at you. “Welcome back, I thought you had left the school.” He smiled, giving you the same popsickle that Satoru had you fetch.

You didn’t take it from him, why is he so hell bent on making things worse for you? Though his act of kindness doesn’t go unnoticed. It was like rain on lava. Bubbling emotions rushing down as you couldn’t help but blink furiously to evade the tears you find coming. “N- no, I’m uh… okay. I was just sick.” You managed, gnawing at your lip and wanting the world to swallow you whole. People on their way to classes were already seeing you between the two hot-shots of the school.

“So you can cry huh?” Satoru laughed, almost in disbelief. This is what he wanted didn’t he? Anything said by Suguru which made you emotional had you snap back instantly. “Do you need anything from me or can I go to class?” You say with such hatred it’s truly shocking.

“Yeah, write one thousand times that you will not leave my side until I’m not finished talking.” Satoru says simply, oh he’s pulling off Suguru’s rage on you now.

“You don’t have to do shit- it’s-” before Suguru could say anything else, you nodded. “Mkay. Can I go to class now?”

Satoru gnawed at his lip, he didn’t want today to be like this. He really thought he could make some progress. “Yeah, handwriting can’t be shitty or you rewrite.” He pushed your boundaries once more, hoping to earn a reaction out of you yet again.

“Understood.” You nodded, walking away. Just two more weeks… just, two more weeks.

During the lunch time, you go to him naturally. “Heh, shouldn’t she sit on the floor?” One of his classmates smirked when you walked to him. Oh?

“Shouldn’t you lay down on the floor?” You asked him, before launching a kick right at his face, knocking him unconscious as he dropped down. Wow… everyone was stunned, including Gojo Satoru. Another reminder that he only has you on a leash because he played dirty, another reminder that you are different.

He snickered, of course he wouldn’t chide you for kicking some random asshole’s ass? He would’ve done the same. How he treats you is his problem. Though, you’re pissed, “This is what I didn’t want.” You looked at him, gritting your teeth. “You treating me like shit gives other people the right to treat me like shit.”

You were… wrong. This wouldn’t end after a month? What were you even thinking? There would be other people who would rise up after him to bother you. “I’ll get you the fucking money to shove far up your pathetic ass.” Here you go, losing it again…

[notsocooljess]

i know this conversation comes up every now and then, but i am again thinking about the lack of organized religion and other preexisting culture in panem outside of the mentioned traditions in each district.

this is really in my mind today because at the start of chapter 5 in catching fire when haymitch brings katniss and peeta through the hallways in the justice building in district 11, she mentions the room prepared for their use has “double doors,” “the ceiling must be twenty feet high,” there are “designs of fruit and flowers cut into the molding, and small, fat children with wings look down at [them] from every angle.”

this passage is strongly reminiscent of a church with cathedral ceilings that are adorned with cherubs, and it also implies that katniss does not know what cherubs are (or really the idea of angels at all for that matter).

considering district 11 is placed in the bible belt, i think this is a really interesting detail, and given katniss’s earlier details about how the justice building is worn and smells of mildew, it highlights how panem is likely using structures that existed before the country itself and how little they know about the world that existed before their country did.

it also shows how heavily united states ideals still influence panem, since though it is said to have “separation of church and state,” our country is very influenced by christian ideals, and these ideals are still somewhat looming over the people of panem.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter seven of ten

wc. 2.6K

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3| part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 8

The journey back to the hideout was a blur. Gojo had kept his promise, moving swiftly through the remnants of the battle with you at his side. The landscape around you seemed surreal—broken, but eerily calm after the violence that had just unfolded. Every step felt heavy, each breath weighed down by the crushing grief that still clung to your heart.

Your mind raced, but your body moved on autopilot. The only thing keeping you grounded was the rhythmic pulse of your twins kicking inside you. Your body was aching, both from the strain of your pregnancy and the emotional toll of watching Suguru die, but there was no time to break down. You needed to get back to the hideout, back to your daughter, who was blissfully unaware of the storm that had ravaged your world.

Gojo walked beside you in silence. The tension between you was palpable, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You didn’t want to speak, and it seemed like he was giving you the space you needed. But you both knew that the confrontation you had avoided for so long was looming over you. There were things that needed to be said, things that had been buried beneath layers of resentment and regret for far too long.

The hideout came into view, hidden deep within the forest, shrouded in na almost unnatural quiet. It had once felt like a sanctuary, a place where you and Geto had begun to build a new life, far from the prying eyes of Jujutsu High. But now, it felt hollow, like an echo of a future that would never be.

When you reached the entrance, Gojo hesitated, his hand resting on the door as if unsure whether to proceed. You glanced at him, seeing the conflict in his expression. This wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about your daughter. Suguru’s daughter.

Without a word, Gojo pushed open the door, and the two of you stepped inside. The familiar scent of the hideout greeted you—wood, damp earth, and a faint hint of the herbs you used to calm your nerves. It was quiet, almost too quiet, and for a moment, you feared something had gone wrong.

But then you heard the soft sound of your daughter’s voice, babbling innocently from the nursery.

The tension in your chest eased slightly, though the weight of the situation still pressed down on you like a vice. You turned to Gojo, his gaze unreadable as he stood at the threshold, seemingly frozen in place.

“I’ll go to her,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Stay here.”

Gojo gave a curt nod, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. You stepped away, leaving him behind as you made your way to the nursery.

When you reached the door, you paused, taking a moment to steady yourself. Your daughter was there, playing on the floor with one of the soft toys Geto had brought her. She looked up as soon as she saw you, her face breaking into a bright smile.

“Mama!” she chirped, her voice full of joy.

Your heart cracked at the sound. You knelt down, pulling her into your arms, holding her close as tears began to spill from your eyes. She didn’t know. She didn’t understand what had just happened, how her world had changed forever.

“Mama’s here,” you whispered, pressing your cheek to the top of her head. “I’m here.”

For a long time, you simply held her, the warmth of her small body against yours the only thing keeping you grounded. But even as you clung to her, you knew that this moment of peace was fleeting. The reality of what had happened, of what you had to face, was looming just beyond the door.

You heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you, and you turned to see Gojo standing in the doorway. He looked at you, then at your daughter, and for a moment, something flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite name. Pain, maybe. Regret.

Gojo’s expression softened for a brief moment, but then his gaze darkened again, the weight of what he had come here for pressing down on him. You stood, holding your daughter in your arms as you faced him.

“This is her?” Gojo asked quietly, though the answer was already clear.

You nodded, unable to speak. Your daughter looked at Gojo with wide, curious eyes, sensing that something was different about him but not yet understanding what. There was na eerie silence in the air as Gojo took a tentative step closer, his eyes scanning her face as though searching for traces of Suguru in her features.

“She’s… his,” Gojo said, his voice tight with something you couldn’t quite place. “Suguru’s.”

“Yes,” you whispered, your throat tight. “She’s ours.”

Gojo exhaled softly, the tension in his body visible as he ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how to prepare for this.”

You understood what he meant. This wasn’t just about the death of Geto. It wasn’t just about the child you had with him. It was about everything that had led up to this moment—the rejection, the choices you had made, and the things that had been left unsaid between you and Gojo for so long.

“I never meant for any of this to happen,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t plan on… on falling in love with him.”

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his gaze shifting back to you, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. “Then why?” he asked, his voice trembling with frustration and something close to hurt. “Why did you leave? Why him?”

You took a deep breath, knowing that this conversation was inevitable but dreading it all the same. “Because you made me feel invisible,” you said softly, the words finally spilling out after so long. “I confessed to you, Satoru. I tried to tell you how I felt, and you pushed me away.”

Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, the realization settling in. He had known, on some level, that his rejection had hurt you, but he hadn’t understood the full extent of it.

“You didn’t even look at me,” you continued, your voice breaking as the weight of those old wounds resurfaced. “I was nothing to you. And Suguru… he saw me. He made me feel like I mattered.”

Gojo flinched at the words, his usual confidence shattered in the face of the truth. He stood there, silent, as the gravity of his actions sank in. The space between you felt impossibly wide, the rift that had grown between you over the years now laid bare.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Gojo said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “I didn’t know… I didn’t understand what you needed. I thought pushing you away was protecting you.”

You shook your head, tears welling up again. “But it wasn’t. It drove me to him. And now, he’s gone, and I don’t know what to do.”

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability. “I know I can’t fix this. I know I can’t bring him back. But I can help you now.”

There was a long silence between you as you looked at him, trying to process everything. Gojo had always been the strongest, the most untouchable person in your life, but now, here he was, standing before you with his own regrets, his own pain laid bare.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Gojo said softly. “But I want to help. I owe you that much. And I owe it to her.” He glanced down at your daughter, his gaze softening as he looked at her again. “She’s part of this too.”

You hesitated, your heart torn between the past and the uncertain future that lay ahead. There was so much pain, so much loss, but there was also the undeniable reality that Gojo was offering you something—a way forward.

“We’ll need to talk,” you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. “About everything. The future. The children.”

Gojo nodded, his expression resolute. “We will. But for now, let me help you.”

And for the first time in a long while, you nodded, accepting the hand that had once pushed you away.

It was the beginning of something new—uncertain, fragile, but real.

The next few days passed in a haze. The weight of Suguru Geto’s death still lingered in the air, thick and oppressive, but there was no time to mourn the way you truly wanted to. Your daughter needed you. Your unborn twins needed you. And now, in the most unexpected twist of fate, Gojo was part of your life again.

You sat in the nursery, the soft sounds of your daughter playing beside you filling the otherwise quiet room. She had settled back into her routine, unaware of the storm that had raged beyond the walls of the hideout, unaware of the loss of her father.

And unaware of the tension that still hung between you and Gojo.

You had let him stay at the hideout. There hadn’t been much of a choice, really. With Geto gone, and the threat of Jujutsu High and other factions looming larger than ever, you needed Gojo’s protection. He had assured you that he would help, that he would be there for you and the children, but you couldn’t help but feel the unresolved weight of your past with him pressing down on every interaction.

Gojo had mostly kept to himself, giving you space. He wasn’t the same brash, overly confident man you had known before. There was a quietness to him now, a somberness that hadn’t been there before. You could see it in his eyes, the way he looked at you, at your daughter—he was carrying his own guilt, his own grief. The loss of Geto had affected him deeply, more deeply than you had ever expected.

But there was still so much left unsaid between you.

That evening, as the sun set and the warm light filtered through the windows of the hideout, you sat alone in the kitchen, your hands resting on your swollen belly. The twins were restless tonight, their movements constant, as though they could sense the unease in you.

You weren’t surprised when you heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Gojo had a way of moving almost silently when he wanted to, but you had learned to sense his presence.

He appeared in the doorway, his usual confident posture subdued, his eyes carrying a weight you rarely saw. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the counter, watching you.

“You’re thinking,” he said softly, breaking the silence.

You nodded, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in your voice. “I’m always thinking now. There’s too much to process.”

Gojo remained quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting to your belly. You knew what he was thinking. You knew the questions that lingered in his mind. But he didn’t ask. Not yet.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up at him, your heart heavy with the unspoken words that had been building between you since the moment you returned to the hideout. There was no point in avoiding it anymore. You needed to have this conversation. You needed to clear the air.

“I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

Gojo’s expression softened, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the boy he had once been—the boy who had been your friend, the boy you had once trusted before everything fell apart. “Start wherever you need to,” he said gently.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself as you prepared to finally face the past. “I loved him,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I loved Suguru, and he loved me. I didn’t expect it to happen, but it did.”

Gojo nodded, his gaze steady but filled with something that resembled quiet acceptance. “I know,” he said. “I could see it, even before I came here.”

You bit your lip, the old wound of your feelings for Gojo—the rejection that had driven you to Geto—still fresh, still painful. “I didn’t leave Jujutsu High because I didn’t care about you, Satoru,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I left because you made me feel like I didn’t matter.”

Gojo flinched, his hand tightening into a fist at his side. “I never meant to hurt you like that,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought I was protecting you. I thought that by keeping my distance, I was keeping you safe.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “You weren’t protecting me. You were pushing me away.”

The words hung between you, heavy with the weight of years of misunderstandings and unspoken feelings. You had never fully confronted him about the rejection, never told him how deeply it had hurt you, but now, with Geto gone, the wound had been ripped open again.

“I know I messed up,” Gojo said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should have seen you. I should have… done something. But I didn’t, and I can’t change that now.”

You looked away, your emotions swirling inside you. “Suguru was there for me when you weren’t,” you said softly. “He made me feel like I mattered. Like I was important. And we built a life together, despite everything.”

Gojo’s shoulders slumped, his usual confidence replaced with a raw vulnerability that you had rarely seen. “I can’t take back what I did,” he said. “But I want to help now. I want to make sure you and your children are safe.”

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. “It’s not just about being safe, Satoru,” you whispered. “It’s about the fact that I loved him. He was going to be my future. And now… now he’s gone.”

Gojo stepped closer, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own. “I know I can’t replace him,” he said quietly. “And I’m not trying to. But I do want to help you build whatever future you want, with your children.”

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the weight of the conversation pressing down on you. There was no fixing what had happened, no going back to undo the pain and loss. But there was a path forward, however fragile and uncertain it might be.

Finally, you met Gojo’s gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes matching your own. “I don’t know what the future looks like now,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But I want my children to be safe. I want them to have a chance to grow up without fear.”

Gojo nodded, his expression resolute. “I’ll protect them,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect all of you.”

You nodded, accepting his words. There was still so much unresolved between you, so much that couldn’t be fixed overnight. But for now, you would take this step forward, however uncertain it might be.

“I don’t know what happens next,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “But thank you.”

Gojo didn’t say anything else. He just stood there, offering you a small, sad smile, as the weight of your shared past finally began to lift, just a little. There was still a long road ahead—one filled with pain, with uncertainty, but also, perhaps, with hope.

For your daughter, for your unborn twins, and for whatever future lay ahead.

notes: if you wanna be tagged just let me know! <3

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss @asahinasstuff @feitanett @xdinaryheroesstan @laviefantasie @hyunsuks-beanie @starlightanyaaa @tanyaspartak @forever-paramore28 @saatorubby @ssetsuka @archiveoftherain @kxrla-20

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[hoe4hotchner]

Chapter 5 - Cracks in the ice

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x figure skater (fem)!Reader

Summary: The story follows you a figure skater training for nationals and Aaron Hotchner as your lives intertwine during an investigation into the abductions of young athletic women, including the your close friend, Leah. As the BAU delves deeper into the case, you find yourself captivated by Hotch’s quiet strength and protective presence. When Leah’s body is tragically discovered at the rink, the tension escalates, surrounding you in an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty.

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of nightmares, blood, stabbing, violence, fear, case-related discussions, mention of potential stalking/harassment, rivalry, use of Y/N, bitterness, failure, and career-ending behavior, mentions of the Olympics.

A/N: The number of videos and articles I’ve watched and read for the latter half of this chapter is insane… My cookies are going to be messed up for the rest of my life, and I’ll forever only get figure skating suggestions.

Masterlist

The investigation had taken a grim, unsettling turn since Leah’s tragic death, leaving an oppressive weight hanging in the BAU. Tension crackled in the air, thick with unspoken fears, and the mood had shifted from determination to something darker, much darker. You sat at the round, cold table in the conference room, the harsh fluorescent lights glaring down on you and the BAU agent's tired faces. Their heated discussions about leads and suspects echoed around the room, voices rising and falling, but none of it truly registered with you. You weren't really paying attention. The words blurred together, becoming distant murmurs as your mind raced, consumed by a whirlwind of disbelief, anxiety, and grief.

The upcoming competition had once been a beacon of excitement and pride, but now, now it loomed over you like an impending storm. What had once been your passion — your escape, your everything — now felt like an obligation, a chore tainted by the shadow of Leah’s death. You knew it would be the talk of the competition. And as much as you longed for and missed Leah, you were sad that an event like this — supposed to be filled with happiness and talent — would be tainted by such tragedy. The rink had once been your sanctuary but no longer felt safe, its ice stained with the memory of Leah's pool of blood. The thought of returning there filled you with dread as if each glide across the ice would be haunted by the echoes of what you had lost — what you could lose.

“Based on the victimology and the profile we’ve constructed, it seems likely that the unsub is someone who’s been involved in the skating community,” Hotch said, his voice was steady and authoritative. His eyes swept the room, making deliberate eye contact with each member of the team, ensuring his words landed with full impact. “They know the routines, the schedules — this is not a random act. It’s targeted.”

His words cut through the tension in the room, sending an icy chill down your spine. The thought that the unsub was not some outsider, but someone within your world, unsettled you deeply. The faces of familiar coaches, skaters, and staff flashed through your mind as you struggled to imagine who could be capable of such a heinous act. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising unease gnawing in your bones. This wasn’t just a case you had somehow gotten involved in anymore — it was personal. The world you had loved, the routines and schedules that had once brought you comfort, now felt like a trap, manipulated by an unseen hand. And the worst part was knowing that you or someone you cared about could be next.

 “Let’s consider the patterns of behavior we’ve seen in previous cases,” Hotch said, guiding the discussion. “Unsubs with similar backgrounds often display obsessive traits. He could be lurking in the shadows, watching practices, studying routines, trying to find his next victim. He likely wants to instill fear within the community, and as far as he can tell, it's working.”

“Garcia,” Hotch called out. “Can you gather information on any past complaints or incidents involving the victims? Anything that stands out — arguments, jealousies, or even online disputes. This might help us uncover underlying tensions in the skating community.”

“On it!” Garcia replied, her fingers dancing across her keyboard. “I’ll start digging into social media as well, looking for posts or comments that could hint at underlying rivalries or tensions. You’d be surprised what people let slip online, especially when emotions are running high.”

You felt uncomfortable by the conversation between the analyst and Hotch, knowing fully well that although you weren't aware of any disputes or fights, the fact that she could dig up your whole digital footprint in a matter of minutes was terrifying. It reminded you of how vulnerable you were, especially in a world where everyone was connected yet so distant.

“Garcia, while you’re at it, could you also pull up any recent reports of harassment or stalking within the skating community?” Hotch asked. “Even if they’re not directly related to our case, they could provide context that helps us understand this unsub’s behavior.”

“Absolutely!” Garcia replied, already typing away. “I’ll prioritize those reports and see if anything stands out. If there are any patterns or common threads. You'll have them faster than you can say; Four fine fresh fish for you"

“Thanks, Garcia,” Hotch said with a nod, appreciating her enthusiasm. “Just remember to focus on cases that have happened in the last year or so. We need the most relevant information.”

“Got it, boss!” she chirped, her fingers a blur across the keyboard.

Turning back to the team, Hotch continued, “Let’s not lose sight of the potential victims. We need to ensure their safety first. Morgan, I want you to coordinate with local law enforcement to increase visibility around the rink during practices and events. Perhaps even set up a temporary command post nearby.”

Morgan straightened in his chair. “I’ll get on it right away. If the unsub thinks he can target skaters without consequence, he’s in for a rude awakening.”

As the discussion continued, theories and speculations flying around the room, a wave of frustration surged within you, crashing against the carefully constructed walls you had built to cope. It was becoming harder to keep those walls intact. Your once meticulously planned training schedule had been thrown into chaos, completely upended by the heightened security measures now in place. Extra patrols at the rink, agents stationed in the shadows, and constant check-ins from Hotch had become your new reality. What used to be a sanctuary — a place where you could lose yourself in the rhythm of the ice and the thrill of competition — now felt suffocating, the weight of the investigation always pressing down on your chest. With every passing day, it grew harder to focus, the pressure of preparing for the competition clashing with the ever-present fear that gripped not only you but the entire staff and skating community.

You felt trapped, caught between the urgency of the investigation and your desperate need to reclaim the life and the passion that skating had always brought you. Every time you laced up your skates, it felt like a battle to push past the fear, the reminders of Leah, and the nagging thought that the person responsible could be watching you from the shadows. You longed for the days when skating had been simple, pure, untouched by the dark realities that had suddenly invaded your life. But now, that world seemed distant, blurred by the same shadows that clouded your thoughts.

You leaned back in your chair, staring blankly at the scattered files on the table as your thoughts swirled like a storm cloud, dark and chaotic. You were sure that Hotch and the team broke every protocol by letting you see these files. The knot of anxiety in your stomach tightened with every passing second, twisting until it felt almost suffocating. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure of when the ground beneath you might give way.

You could feel Hotch’s gaze on you. And even as you tried to avoid looking in his direction, his concern was noticeable, etched deep into the lines of his face. There was no judgment in his eyes — just understanding, a reminder that he, too, had carried the weight of loss, fear, and duty. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to face. His presence, though comforting in its own way, was only a reminder of how far this had spiraled beyond your control, maybe even beyond his control.

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, fighting the urge to get up and escape the tension in the room. It felt like everyone was moving forward, searching for answers, while you were stuck, paralyzed by the collision of your personal and professional worlds. The fear that had once been an abstract concept in your life now felt way too real, manifesting in the way your body tensed and your thoughts spun, unable to focus on your routine, your spins, and jumps — they craved precision, one that you weren't able to find. You clenched your hands in your lap, trying to ground yourself, but it was impossible to shake the feeling that everything was slipping through your fingers. You knew you needed to get back on the ice, to feel the cold air in your face. It was truly the only way you knew to ground yourself.

“Y/N,” Hotch said quietly, his voice slicing through the fog of your spiraling thoughts. It was soft but carried enough weight to pull you from the chaos inside your mind. “Are you alright?”

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. There was no demand for an answer, just concern. For a brief moment, the tension in your chest eased, though the knot in your stomach remained. You opened your mouth, trying to find the words, but they stuck, caught between the urge to let it all out and the fear of appearing vulnerable.

His eyes remained on you, he was patient, waiting for whatever response you could or would give.

You forced a smile. “Just trying to figure out how to train with all this going on,” you muttered, the words feeling flat, like an excuse that even you didn’t believe. They felt hollow, as though they were a weak attempt to cover the frustration and fear gnawing at you, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to find the right way to express the storm of emotions swirling inside.

The truth was, it wasn’t just about training. It was about trying to function while everything around you seemed to be unraveling.

Hotch’s eyes remained steady on you. You knew he wouldn’t push, but his silence felt like a gentle nudge, urging you to be honest with yourself, to admit that this was all far more than just about disrupted training schedules and competition jitters. It was about how lost you felt, how every part of your life had been infiltrated by fear, leaving you grasping at the last remnants of normalcy.

But you couldn’t admit that — not yet and certainly not to him. So you held onto that smile, fragile as it was, and hoped it would be enough to keep the conversation from delving deeper into your emotions.

Hotch’s expression softened as he took a step closer to you. The sharp lines of concern on his face seemed to ease, replaced by a warmth that made your heart feel a little lighter. “I know it’s difficult, but we’re doing everything we can to keep you safe.”

“Thanks, Hotch. I appreciate it.” You met his gaze, finding a flicker of hope in his unwavering support, and for that instant, the weight on your shoulders lifted for a moment.

As the meeting wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at him, captivated by the way he commanded the room, drawing everyone's attention to him. The measured cadence of his voice had a calming effect, making even the most intense discussions feel more manageable. Each time he spoke, it felt like he wasn’t just leading the conversation; he was anchoring the team, grounding them amidst the chaos of the investigation.

You could only imagine that this was how all their cases went.

You could see how his presence inspired trust and respect in his team and it made you acutely aware of the influence he had over those around him. The way he engaged with each member, listening intently and responding thoughtfully, fostered an environment where everyone felt valued and heard.

When the meeting finally concluded, you stepped outside into the crisp air, which hit your face like a splash of ice water, jolting you back to reality. The stark contrast between the stuffy conference room and the brisk outdoors was initially invigorating, a momentary escape from the weight of your thoughts. You had hoped for a moment of clarity in the cold, fresh air, a chance to catch your breath and regain your focus. However, instead of the relief you sought, it felt like the weight of the world settled more heavily on your shoulders, an almost tangible burden that threatened to crush you.

You took a deep breath, trying to fill your lungs with the fresh air, but it felt heavy with the remnants of your worries. As you leaned against the cool metal railing, you felt a mixture of frustration and despair. How could you prepare for a competition that could define your future when everything felt so uncertain?

“Y/N!” Hotch’s voice called out from behind you, cutting through the fog of your thoughts. You turned to see him striding toward you with purpose and determination. “Can we talk?” he asked, his tone laced with a sense of urgency.

You nodded, curiosity mingling with a flicker of anxiety. The way he approached you suggested that something dire was afoot. As he gestured for you to walk with him, you fell into step beside him.

“Listen,” he started, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, “I know things have been tough lately.” His expression softened. “I can see the toll it’s taking on you, and I want you to know that you don’t have to be as involved with the investigation if you don't want to”

You swallowed hard, the knot of anxiety in your stomach shifting as his words resonated within you. It was a relief to hear him acknowledge what you had been feeling, to know that your struggles hadn’t gone unnoticed.

But you felt a surge of frustration bubbling to the surface, a mix of anger and helplessness that threatened to spill over. “Easy for you to say,” you shot back, your voice sharper than intended. “You don’t know what it’s like to put everything on the line and have it ripped away from you. I can’t just sit around and do nothing while my entire future hangs in a balance!” Each word felt like a weight lifted, but you could see the flicker of surprise in Hotch’s eyes.

“I understand more than you think,” he replied, his tone shifting, revealing a vulnerability that you hadn't expected. A flicker of emotion crossed his face, something deeper lurking beneath the surface. “This job… it takes and it takes. And in the end, it takes a toll on all of us. But your safety has to come first. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

“I just…” you began, searching for the right words to convey the whirlwind inside you. “I’m trying to stay focused on my training, but it feels impossible with everything going on.” You took a deep breath. “I don’t want to let anyone down, especially not you or your team. I want to find Leah's killer.”

Hotch stopped walking and turned to face you fully, his eyes searching yours “You won’t let anyone down,” he reassured you firmly. “We’re all in this together, and I’m here to support you — like I do with my team — in any way you need. If that means stepping back from some responsibilities for a while, then we’ll figure it out.”

His words washed over you. “I just don’t want to fall behind,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “This competition means everything to me. It’s my chance to prove myself.”

“I understand,” Hotch said. “But remember, this isn’t just about the competition. It’s about you and your well-being. That’s what truly matters. The rest will fall into place once I catch the unsub.” He reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you felt a surge of gratitude for his support.

“It’s hard to let go of the pressure I put on myself,” you confessed, allowing a hint of vulnerability to seep through. “I’ve always pushed myself to be the best, and now... it feels like everything is slipping through my fingers.”

“It’s natural to feel that way, especially in times of crisis." He offered you a small smile. He straightened up, his posture shifting back to its familiar authoritative stance, his demeanor transitioning seamlessly from supportive to professional as he glanced at his watch. “You should get to the rink and start your practice. It’s important to keep up your routine in case the unsub is watching you. I'll have a few agents follow you from afar, just in case he decides to show himself.”

The following days blurred together as the investigation deepened, each one slipping by like a fleeting shadow while the team methodically narrowed down their list of suspects. Every morning felt like stepping onto a tightrope, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily on your shoulders, making it harder to find your balance.

That morning, long before the sun had even risen, you found yourself at the rink, alone. The arena was dimly lit, with only the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above and the echoing silence of your skates cutting through the ice. It should have felt peaceful — you hadn't even been bothered to turn on your playlist — a rare moment where the world was quiet, and no one was watching. No coaches barking corrections, no judges sizing you up, no teammates glancing over with judgment. Just you, the ice, and the rhythm of your blades.

But something was wrong.

You took a deep breath, pushing off from the boards, the familiar glide of your skates over the ice normally brought you solace. Today, however, the ice beneath you felt foreign, unpredictable, like it had a mind of its own. You tried to settle into your routine, warming up with some simple crossovers, the scrape of metal against ice echoing in the air. But even that felt off, your feet slipping slightly as if the ice itself was rebelling against you.

You shook it off, heading into your first combination. A simple waltz jump into a loop. Your muscles should have remembered this — they’d done it a thousand times before — but the moment you took off, your timing faltered. Instead of a graceful arc, you landed awkwardly, your blade catching at the wrong angle, sending you stumbling. A soft grunt escaped your lips as you fought to regain your balance.

"Focus," you whispered under your breath, determined not to let frustration take hold so early in the practice.

You pushed harder, determined to shake the creeping unease from your mind. You launched into an Axel — a jump that normally felt so freeing, defying gravity for just a moment. But as you pulled into the air, your arms too tight, your rotation uneven, you came down hard on your right leg, the edge catching before your ankle buckled beneath you. You hit the ice with a sharp thud, the sting shooting up your side as you let out a breathless groan.

Pushing yourself back up, your hands shaking slightly from the impact, you shook your head. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were better than this.

Next, you tried a simple layback spin — something you’d mastered long ago. But as soon as you hit your entrance edge, you felt the wobble. Your leg extended behind you, your back arching, but the spin was unstable. Your free leg swung out too wide, and instead of holding the tight, fast revolutions, you slowed and lost your center, the spin breaking apart awkwardly before you had to step out, gasping in frustration.

The rink was supposed to be your sanctuary. The one place where you could escape everything. But today, it felt like you were battling against it. Every jump, every spin — nothing was landing. Nothing felt right.

You tried again. This time a lutz, but your entry edge wobbled, your weight shifting too far inside, causing you to pop the jump, barely getting off the ice before your feet hit the surface again.

"Come on," you growled to yourself, pushing harder, anger and frustration bubbling up inside you.

A triple-toe loop, then — something that you could do without even thinking on a good day. Surely you should be able to get this right. You gathered speed, your arms pulling in tight as you prepared to launch into the jump. But again, in mid-air, it fell apart. Your body twisted wrong, your arms lost their placement, and you came crashing down to the ice, landing hard on your hip. The sharp sting of the cold surface against your skin made you wince as the air rushed out of your lungs.

You lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You wanted to scream, scream out in frustration, not because of your inability to perform your routine, but because of everything surrounding you. Your life had become suffocating.

The rink, it was supposed to be your escape — the one place where the outside world didn’t matter, where it was just you and the ice. No matter how many times you told yourself to focus, your mind was elsewhere. Every jump was weighed down by the knowledge that someone could be watching, studying your every move, learning your routines. Every spin felt heavier, tangled with thoughts of Leah and the nightmares that had followed after her death.

The nightmares had started almost immediately after Leah’s death. At first, they were flashes — brief, jarring images that startled you awake, leaving you gasping in the dark. But as the days passed and the investigation deepened, they grew more vivid, more suffocating. You saw Leah on the ice, one moment she was dancing peacefully across the blank surface, the next her lifeless body was sprawled where you had found her, her eyes just as blank as the ice.

But in the dreams, she wasn’t alone.

The unsub was there, too.

He was always just out of reach, a shadowed figure standing in the background, faceless yet terrifyingly familiar. You never saw his face, but you could feel his presence — that sickening, oppressive aura that clung to him like a second skin. Sometimes, in the dream, you would skate toward Leah, desperate to reach her, to help her, but no matter how hard you pushed, the ice stretched farther and farther ahead of you. The more you skated, the further away she seemed, until the rink disappeared into a vast, empty hole, with only the unsub's shadow moving closer.

Other times, the dream shifted into something far darker — more visceral. You would see him there, standing over Leah’s crumpled form, his face still enveloped in darkness. His hand gripped a long, gleaming knife, its blade catching the cold, artificial light of the rink as he raised it high. And then, he brought it down, again and again, each strike tearing into Leah’s stomach. The sickening sound of the blade sinking into her flesh echoed in the arena.

Blood spattered across the ice in those dreams, bright red against the white, spreading in jagged patterns that stained the pristine surface. It splashed onto the unsub's hands, staining his clothes, but he didn’t falter. He just kept stabbing, over and over, as if possessed by a cold, mechanical need to destroy. You could hear Leah’s gasps for help, weak and broken, her body twitching with each new wound, her eyes wide in terror.

You were frozen, paralyzed with horror, screaming her name but unable to move. The ice felt like quicksand beneath your feet, holding you in place as the unsub’s violence escalated, each stab more vicious than the last.

The unsub never spoke, never showed his face. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t bear it any longer, he would stop. Slowly, deliberately, he would turn his head in your direction, as if he knew you were watching, as if this whole display was meant for you. The faceless shadow would lock eyes with you, his knife still dripping with Leah's blood, and you knew in your bones — he was coming for you next.

And then you would wake up, drenched in sweat, your heart racing in your chest, you always woke up before he had the chance to stand up, to attack. The feeling of dread never fully left you on those days. It clung to you like fog, following you throughout the day, weaving itself into every thought and every moment spent on the ice.

You slowly sat up, your body aching, your muscles stiff from the repeated falls. You sighed, brushing the ice shavings off your leggings determined to try again. Just as you were about to push off for another attempt, you felt you heard your phone ringing. You hesitated for a moment before skating over to the boards, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the caller ID.

Hotch.

The screen glowed with his name, and a knot tightened in your chest. You knew it couldn't be good. You quickly swiped to answer, lifting the phone to your ear. "Hotch?"

His voice was steady but carried a hint of urgency, instantly pulling your mind away from the nightmares. "Y/N, can you come to the Academy? We've made some progress on the case, and we need your input."

A rush of anxiety surged through you. “Progress?” You repeated, your voice quieter than you intended.

“Garcia found something,” Hotch continued. “It’s not definitive yet, but we think it could help us narrow down the suspect list. We’re also cross-referencing it with the harassment reports we pulled the other day. Your insight in the community could be key here.”

You exhaled slowly, a million thoughts swirling in your head, but none of them were clear enough to grasp. The idea of getting closer to identifying Leah’s killer — to identifying the man who had terrorized your thoughts — sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, but it was knotted in fear — fear of what they might find, of how close the danger could be — whether you knew him or not.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” you said, gripping the phone tightly, you tried to keep your voice steady despite the uncertainty brewing inside you.

“Good,” Hotch replied, his tone softening slightly. “Take your time. We’ll be waiting.” The line clicked off, and you stood there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand.

You glanced back at the ice, at the grooves from your failed jumps, the scars etched into the surface. The maintenance guys would fix them before your return — they always did. Normally, you’d stay until you got it right, but today, none of it felt right.

You had somewhere more important to be.

Grabbing your skate guards, you slid them on and quickly packed up your things. As you left the rink, the echo of your footsteps followed you.

You hoped that maybe, just maybe, Hotch and his team were getting closer to stopping him.

The drive to the academy felt longer than usual, the rhythmic hum of your tires on the pavement did little to calm your nerves. The sun was still low in the sky, casting a golden light over the city as you sped through the empty streets. Your thoughts raced, bouncing between the nightmares that had plagued you all week and the urgency in Hotch’s voice over the phone.

By the time you arrived, the familiar sight of the academy’s structure grounded you just a little. You parked and quickly made your way inside, flashing your visitor's badge — Hotch had let you keep for the duration of the investigation — at security before heading up to the 6th floor where the team was waiting.

As you stepped through the door, you were greeted by the low murmur of voices and the glow of the overhead projector casting a map of the skating rink on the screen. You dropped your bag filled with your gear to the floor, not knowing why you had brought it inside with you — perhaps out of instinct. Hotch stood at the front, ready to begin the briefing.

“Y/N, thanks for coming in,” Hotch greeted you with a small nod. You took a seat at the table, your pulse still racing as you glanced at the team, each of them deeply focused on the files in front of them.

Hotch stepped forward, his gaze sweeping the room before landing back on you. “We’ve identified a former skater, Thomas Mercer,” he stated. “He has a history of aggressive behavior and a documented rivalry with Leah. His animosity toward her has been noted by others, both skaters and coaches.”

The name hit you like a slap to the face. Thomas Mercer. You knew him. Everyone in the skating community knew him. He had been a rising star, someone with undeniable talent, but his reputation had been marred by his temper and erratic behavior. Rumors of fights with other male skaters, shouting matches with coaches — it had all but ended his career. Leah had mentioned him once, briefly, but you had never given it much thought.

You swallowed hard, trying to process the information as Hotch continued.

“Garcia has pulled up records of confrontations he’s had at various skating events. Verbal altercations, threats — nothing that was officially reported as violence, but enough to paint a picture of someone who potentially holds a grudge to this day.”

You weren't sure if you believed it was him. No one had seen Thomas in years. It was like he had gone underground.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, a sinking feeling in your gut. “Leah never mentioned anything to me,” you murmured, trying to recall any conversation, any hint that this could have been brewing beneath the surface. But there was nothing.

“Don’t blame yourself,” JJ said softly, her eyes kind as they met yours. “People like Mercer are good at hiding their intentions until it’s too late.”

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. “Garcia is working on tracking his movements in the days leading up to Leah’s death. If he’s our unsub, we need to move fast before he finds another victim.”

“Do we have any concrete evidence linking him to the crime?” Rossi asked the same question that had lingered in your mind.

“Not yet,” Hotch replied, turning back to the screen where Mercer's picture had been pulled up. “But we’re working on it. Y/N, your knowledge of his career might help us fill in some gaps. Is there anything you can tell us about Mercer’s relationship with Leah or other skaters?”

You hesitated, searching your memory for anything that could be useful. “He was always… intense,” you finally said, choosing your words carefully. “Everyone knew he had a temper, but Leah never said much about him, she knew him better than I did. I think she tried to stay out of his way, but maybe that might’ve made him angrier. Leah had a reputation for being untouchable, and I've been told that that kind of thing usually fueled his anger. But there's been rumours, ever since I started training in the pavilion.”

Hotch turned his gaze toward you, his brow furrowed. “What kind of rumors?”

“About Mercer,” you replied, your voice steadied as you recalled the whispers you’d heard in the locker rooms at competitions. “People said he was bitter about not making it to the Olympics. He used to blame others for his failures. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a vendetta against those who he thought stood in his way.”

Hotch nodded, the wheels in his mind visibly turning. “And Leah was a rising star. She likely represented everything he wished he could’ve achieved.”

“Perhaps,” you said, your heart racing at the thought. “He wasn’t just competing against her talent; he was competing against his past failures. I think that fueled his obsession. There were nights when I would hear him shouting in the rink after practice, cursing himself or others. He just never seemed to take responsibility for his actions. It was always someone else’s fault — but I was young, so I didn't think much of it then, I just thought that sort of anger followed loss.”

Hotch scribbled some notes on his notepad.

He gave a short nod, acknowledging your input. “We’ll look deeper into that.” He turned to the rest of the team, wrapping up the briefing as they gathered their files and began to disperse.

“Alright, everyone,” he said, his voice felt authoritative, resonating in the now-quiet room. “Let’s regroup in 4 hours to discuss our findings. Keep digging into the backgrounds of our suspects and monitor any new leads."

As the team nodded and filed out, their chatter faded into the hallway, you watched as they left, each one consumed by their thoughts and tasks. The room gradually emptied until it was just the two of you, the air thick with unspoken words. You need to tell him about Mercer.

Doubts gnawed at you. Deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Mercer wasn’t the unsub. Yes, he had a temper and a documented rivalry with Leah, but you remembered the last time you’d seen him — a shadow of himself, of the skater he once was, barely holding himself together — he had looked miserable. Since then, he’d become a ghost, disappearing from the skating scene, the traces of him in the pavilion slowly fading away, his trophies and pictures disappearing — It was like he had completely vanished off the face of the earth.

It didn’t sit right with you to blame him for Leah’s murder when he seemed to be fighting his own demons. The thought of him being capable of such brutality felt wrong, even if others whispered about his bitterness.

What if he was just a convenient scapegoat for the killer, making sure the unsub could still lurk in the shadows? What if he had nothing to do with it? You shook your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. You couldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgment, but the idea that an innocent man might be wrongfully accused weighed heavily on your conscience.

A man you had once looked up to.

With a deep breath, you looked up at Hotch. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

He nodded, pulling out the chair beside you and sitting down. The air was heavy with unsaid thoughts. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his tone was gentle, his eyes searching yours for any hint of distress.

“I just… I don’t think it’s Mercer,” you blurted out, your voice shaking slightly. “As far as I’m aware, he doesn’t even live on this side of the country anymore. He’s been a ghost since the last competition when he successfully ended his own career with his temper.”

Hotch regarded you, processing your words. “I understand your hesitation. It’s natural to want to protect the community you care about. But the evidence we’ve gathered—”

“I get that,” you interrupted. “But what if you're chasing shadows? I mean, there are so many other skaters who could be more likely suspects. Thomas was always… erratic, but he never crossed the line into actual violence, at least not like this. Not to my knowledge.”

“So, you believe we should look elsewhere?”

“Yes!” You leaned forward, the intensity of your conviction spilling over. “There were so many skaters at his last competition. Anyone could hold a grudge against Leah — She did win the competition after all. Mercer was volatile, but he wasn’t the only one who felt overshadowed by her talent.”

Hotch took a moment to absorb your concerns, his fingers steepling in front of him. “I appreciate your insight. You know the dynamics of this community better than anyone. If there’s even a chance that Mercer isn’t involved, we need to consider other options, but we'll keep him on our radar just in case.”

Relief washed over you, but you quickly stifled it, wanting to remain focused. “I just want to make sure we’re looking in the right direction. The thought of it being someone else from the rink — it terrifies me — I can't put the thought past me that I might know them. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

“You’re right to be concerned. We will reevaluate our suspects and dig deeper into the skaters who were at that last competition. If there’s any chance that someone else was motivated to harm Leah, we’ll find them.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, feeling a relief of gratitude wash over you, although the anxiety still lingered deep down. “I just… I want to make sure we’re doing everything we can. I don't want the wrong guy to be harmed.”

He smiled slightly, admiring you for a moment. He admired how much you cared about the people around you, about your sport, about everything.

With that, Hotch stood up, his demeanor shifting back into work mode. “I’ll have Garcia pull additional records from the competition. Please stay safe for the time being.”

“Will do,” you replied, determination coursing through you as you watched him head toward the door. “And Hotch?”

He turned back, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

“Just… be careful. I don’t want to see you or anyone from the team get hurt either.”

@love4lando @therealbaberuthless @crazyunsexycool @pear-1206 @bookworm124 @itsmytimetoodream @c-losur3 @lumestar @evvy96 @booknerd2004 @werebearcocoon

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 7) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 7

Kurogiri snatches you from the alleyway behind the clinic. You’re ready for it, or as ready as it’s possible to be when you don’t know what Tenko’s planning. When you reappear, you’re not in the bar – instead you’re in the hallway outside Tenko’s room, and the door to his room is open. He looks pleased to see you. The hand’s already down off his face.

“You’re here. Good,” he says – but his expression shifts from anticipation into something sharper almost instantly. “What is it? Are you –”

This has been the worst twenty-four hours you’ve had since the night you first saw Tenko again. Between the visit with your family and the news about Kazuo and your encounter with Tenko’s master, you don’t have it in you to pretend. You take an unsteady step closer to him. “Can I, um –”

“What?” Tenko asks, but some part of him must know, because his arms lift from his sides, opening to leave space between them. You take another step closer, until you’re well within the space, and you know when he realizes, because he takes a sharp breath. “Yeah, you can. Go ahead.”

He hugs you back too tightly, but you’re probably hugging him too tightly in the first place. He can’t decide where to put his hands. He keeps trying different spots, but no matter where he touches you, it’s never with more than three fingers down. For your part, you keep your hands still on his back, resisting the urge to run them over his shoulder blades or along his spine. He’s really thin. Almost malnourished thin. No wonder his wounds take so long to heal.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, let your eyes fall shut. “What happened?” Tenko asks. He adjusts his grip on you without fully letting go. “Why do you look like that?”

His master said not to tell Tenko – no, advised you not to tell Tomura. But he also said he’d have no further dealings with you. You don’t know where Kurogiri is, what Kurogiri might say, so you speak as quietly as you can, your mouth just below Tenko’s ear. “I met your master.”

Tenko stiffens. “What?”

“Kurogiri took me to him. I thought he was taking me to you, but –”

“What did he want?” Tenko asks. His voice is tense, already going flat. “What did you tell him?”

“He wanted to know how I knew you. I told him about how we met last year, when you came to the clinic.” You feel Tenko’s shoulders relax slightly at that. “I used the right name. I don’t –”

“Here.” Tenko pulls away from you, but only long enough to pull you through the door to his room and shut it behind you both. “What else did he ask?”

“About my quirk. He said he’d give me one, but he changed his mind.” You try to remember, but it’s hard verging on impossible. All you can think of is the hand closing over your face, the enormous figure looming over you. “He said I was your game piece, not his. What does that mean?”

You look up at Tenko. Tenko’s expression is somehow grim and calculating at the same time. “He says everything’s for me. Everything should be as I want it, so he won’t take you away,” he says. Then, almost to himself: “But he was suspicious. If he finds out –”

“Finds out what?”

“Here.” Tenko pulls you closer than before. This time you feel his chapped lips against your ear. “I was supposed to say goodbye to my old name. When he gave me my family to wear.”

His family to wear. His family – the hands. You almost throw up. Tenko keeps talking, faster now. “I didn’t think about it. I hadn’t in years, until – and I feel different when I hear it. Different than I’m supposed to. I want the same things, but more things. I don’t know how to say it.”

“You’re not supposed to be Tenko anymore.” You feel him nod. “You feel more like that when you’re with me.”

Tenko nods again. “You always know how to say it right.”

“I know you,” you say. His grip on you tightens. “You’re in trouble with him because of me.”

“No.” Tenko’s index finger taps a pattern on your back. “I feel better when you’re here.”

That doesn’t mean he’s not in trouble. It just means he cares about it less, or he’s less worried than you are. “Just be careful with my name,” he continues. “Call me Sensei’s name around everyone else, even Kurogiri. When it’s just us, like right now –”

“Tenko,” you say, and he nods. You feel a little better, maybe. You don’t know for sure. And you know you’ve been hugging him for way too long. You step back. “Sorry about this. I –”

“Don’t,” Tenko says. “I told you. I don’t mind.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment. In your peripheral vision, you can see that the room’s even cleaner than it was the last time you were here. The coffee table still has a pileup of games on it, but there’s also an open energy drink can sitting there. With a flower sticking out of it.

You fixate on the flower. “Where’d you get that?”

“I found it,” Tenko says, but he can’t hold your gaze, which means he’s lying and he probably stole it. “So you wouldn’t get confused this time.”

“About whether it’s a date?” you ask. He nods without looking at you. “Okay. It’s a date.”

“It’s a date right now,” Tenko corrects. “The new members of the League will be here at midnight. Do you have a disguise?”

“I think so.” You’ve been carrying it around in your bag, since you don’t have a way to predict when Tenko will call for you. “Do you want to see it?”

He nods. You fish both pieces of it out of your bag and put it on, situating the veil over your face and peering at Tenko through the filmy fabric. “Can you see my face?”

“Not really.” Tenko tilts his head, studying you. “What is it?”

“My friends and I dressed up as vampire brides last Halloween, but I went a little too hard on the bride part,” you say. “I was going to use a mask, but it was hard to breathe, and I couldn’t see very well. And the veil covers my hair, too.”

Tenko nods again. “What’s the crown made of?”

“It’s supposed to look like thorns.” You cringe a little bit. “Hirono made me wear it with the costume, and I still needed something to hold the veil in place. Does it work?”

Tenko comes closer. A lot closer. “Not at this range,” he says. You’d have to agree. If you can count his eyelashes through the veil, he can definitely see your face. “I’m not letting any of them that close to you or me. You can take it off now.”

You lift the crown off, and the veil after it, and Tenko takes them from you, setting them down on the end of the coffee table next to the hand he usually wears on his face. They look unbelievably weird laid out next to each other – like the costume pieces they are, things the two of you can take on and off whenever you want to instead of symbols of what Tenko already is, what you’re getting yourself into. “The others won’t be here for a few hours,” Tenko says. “Do you want to play a game?”

“Do you need to do anything to get ready for the meeting?” you ask. “It sounds important.”

“The plan’s already done. I’ll tell you about who will be there, but we don’t need anything else. Just –” Tenko lifts his head as if to scratch at his neck, then lowers it again. “I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ve thought about it enough. Can we –”

“Yeah,” you say at once. “Let’s just play.”

You play Call of Duty again, starting off in co-op mode this time. You were so worried that your skills would atrophy that you made Ryuhei and Mitsuru play with you until you got better, something Tenko remarks on right away. “I can’t believe you practiced.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a sidekick if I stayed dead weight,” you say. “Don’t worry. It won’t last long.”

The two of you still have a ways to go before the intermediate levels, and with the pressure off, Tenko starts telling you about the allies he’s collected. Mostly guys – for whatever reason, there aren’t a lot of female villains. The two women are Hiikishi, who goes by Magne, and Toga, who goes by Toga. Magne’s an adult with a serious record, and Toga would have a serious record if she was an adult, which she isn’t. “Seventeen?” you say, startled. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s a Stain fan,” Tenko says. He rolls his eyes, then takes out an entire group of enemies advancing on the two of you without looking at the screen. “So are two of the others. One of them’s got a fire quirk. He’s an asshole. The other one – he’s hard to get a read on. Keep an eye on him.”

“I can do that,” you say. You see a solitary enemy sneaking up behind Tenko’s character, adjust your viewpoint minutely, and shoot them before they can shoot him. “Who else?”

Toga apparently isn’t the only kid who’s taking on a life of villainy. There’s another high school student, too, and you think about what Kazuo said, about the question of whether the creation of new villains can be prevented. Two of the other new allies fall into the category of those Kazuo said would be drawn to violence regardless. You recognize both names from the news, and you’ve listened to enough true-crime podcasts at Mitsuru’s behest to know that at least one of them is supposed to be behind bars. “Did you break them out?”

“Kurogiri’s doing that,” Tenko says, unworried. “They’re the distraction. Compress will be doing the real work.”

“Compress?”

“We were lucky to find him,” Tenko says. There’s a nasty grin on his face. “You’ll hear more about him when we go over the plan. We – dammit.”

The two of you leveled up while you were talking, and there are twice as many enemies as before. You decide to drop the line of questioning and focus on the game. Playing with Mitsuru and Ryuhei, you never got through the first of the intermediate levels. Tenko’s better than they are by a long shot, but you’ll need all your wits about you to avoid dragging him down.

You and Tenko play in silence for the most part, working together as a team, and you notice the two of you shifting closer together as the game continues, moving from your separate corners of the couch to the middle of it. You’re paying attention to the game, but every so often your mind drifts – to the flower in the energy drink can, to the fact that this is apparently a date, to the fact that Tenko let you hug him and hugged you back. If this is a date, if he keeps calling it a date, there must be something he wants from you that’s more than this, more than whatever the two of you are doing right now. You could ask what it is. Part of you doesn’t want to know.

You and Tenko clear one or two intermediate levels, but on the third one, you know the two of you are in deep trouble. You’re low on health already, courtesy of getting dinged a few times on the level before, and your skills, while improved, aren’t good enough to let you hold your own. Tenko’s having to protect you, just like you were worried he would, and in the process, he’s taking damage, too. Despite that, courtesy of Tenko’s skills and your weird accuracy, the two of you progress to the end of the level. Almost.

“Come on,” Tenko hisses. He’s two seconds away from disintegrating his controller. “We can make it.”

No, you can’t. Not both of you. But if Tenko can get through, he can get to a save point, and you can finish the level later. If you both die, you have to go back to the beginning. With that in mind, it’s an easy choice. You maneuver your character between Tenko’s and the enemies sneaking up on him from behind, and shoot as many of them as you can before they overwhelm you. Tenko turns to stare at you in horror. “You died?”

“You didn’t. Go!”

Tenko swears, shoots the enemies you couldn’t kill, and clears the level at speed. He saves his progress. Then he turns on you. “What happened?”

You point at the screen, which is showing a slow-motion replay of your character getting absolutely shredded by enemy fire. “You were blocking for me?” Tenko looks unhappy. “Idiot. We could have won.”

“I was slowing you down too much,” you say. “I could help you get through, so I did. Now you don’t have to start over.”

“But you do.”

“I’m the sidekick. It’s okay,” you say. You’re not sure why he’s looking at you like that. “And even if I wasn’t your sidekick – there’s no way I’d let my best friend lose.”

Tenko doesn’t say a word in response. Instead he sets his controller aside, then lifts yours out of your hands and does the same. You’re sitting really close together right now. He said this was a date. You make eye contact with Tenko, or try to. He’s not looking into your eyes. He’s looking at your mouth.

He’s being really obvious. You wonder if he knows. “Have you kissed anyone before?”

“Yeah. You.” Tenko doesn’t look away from your mouth. “Don’t you remember?”

For a moment you don’t. But then you remember the picture of the two of you on Valentine’s Day, and what happened after the picture was taken – you taking the valentine from him, planting a poorly-aimed kiss half on his mouth and half on his cheek, and promptly running away. You’re surprised he’s counting that. But you would count it, too, if it was the only thing you had to count.

“I remember,” you say. “So this is going to be our second kiss.”

“Who said I was going to kiss you?”

“You’ve been staring at my mouth for the last minute and a half. I’m not sure what else you could be doing,” you say. Tenko’s face turns red, which means you’re right, but he still doesn’t make a move. “Did you change your mind?”

“No.” Tenko shakes his head. “I don’t know where to put my hands.”

“Don’t do anything with them for now,” you suggest. Your heart is beating faster. “Let’s just try it and see how it goes.”

He’s leaning closer now, shifting position to close the gap even further. The flush in his cheeks is darker than before. “I’m not going to be good at it.”

“Hey, I was pretty bad at Call of Duty last time,” you say. Tenko starts to argue that kissing and Call of Duty have absolutely nothing in common, and you cut him off. “You know how I got better? I practiced.”

Tenko finally tears his eyes away from your mouth. “You wouldn’t have had anything to practice if I hadn’t taught you how. You should kiss me.”

“I kissed you the first time,” you say. “It’s your turn.”

It’s quiet for a second. “Fine,” Tenko says. He leans in and you tilt your head to the proper angle and your lips meet for the first time in fifteen years.

You really don’t want to count the kiss when you were five as your first kiss, but Tenko’s counting it, so you sort of have to. His lips are rough against yours, not in pressure but in texture, and you’re careful as you kiss him back. Careful for a whole host of reasons. His hands are curled into fists on his thighs, and you don’t want him to move without thinking. You don’t want him to pull away, either, which is what he’ll do if you go overboard. It’s not the hottest first kiss you’ve ever had, but it’s the most intense by far. The fact that your lips are the only point of contact makes it even more so.

You’re trying to be careful, but you’re not careful enough – Tenko’s lower lip splits, and you taste blood. You sit back in a hurry. “Sorry. I didn’t mean –”

“I don’t care.” Tenko closes the gap between you again, presses his lips against yours a second time. “Do you?”

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” you admit. You feel Tenko’s lips curve into a smile, spilling more blood onto yours. “But you have to let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

You unfold your hands from your sides and raise them, setting them on Tenko’s shoulders. Tenko freezes. You risk dragging your thumbs slowly across his collarbones, too prominent just like his shoulder blades and vertebrae are, and see his eyes fall half-lidded. A slow shudder runs through him, shedding tension in its wake. “Do you mind?” you ask.

“No.” Tenko kisses you again.

Kissing Tenko is – strange. It’s not bad. Definitely not bad, and definitely not something you want to stop doing, but still, it feels strange. Part of it is the taste of his blood on your lips, the almost-starved ridges of his shoulders and spine under your hands, the fact that you can touch him but he can’t touch you. And part of it is the missing piece of time, those fifteen years where you would have known each other if this hadn’t happened to Tenko – whatever this was. It feels almost like a blink. When you look back in your memories, you’re little kids, linking pinkies on the way to school. Now you’re kissing on the bed in Tenko’s room with Call of Duty paused in the background. Or making out. If the total lack of daylight between your mouth and Tenko’s is anything to go by, you graduated to making out already.

You can’t get your tongue involved without tasting even more of his blood, but the sound he makes and the shudder that runs through him when you swipe your tongue across his lower lip to clear it away makes it almost worth it. His fists are no longer resting on his thighs – now they’re on yours, fingers uncurling and curling again. You dare to slide one hand upward, tracing the back of his neck, and Tenko groans, shudders. The thought comes to you, again, that you should be careful with him. He’s so thin, so shaky under your hands. If you push him too far, he might break apart.

Tenko’s trying to talk without disconnecting his mouth from yours. That’s not going to work. You wrap your arms around his neck so he knows you’re not going anywhere and sit back. “What is it?”

“I want to touch you.” Tenko’s eyes are locked on yours this time, and the hunger and desperation you see there takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to make it safe. I don’t want –”

Something happens to him then. You don’t know how to describe it. Something flashes behind his eyes, and his shoulders tense beneath your hands, muscles turning so rigid and brittle that they feel as though they could shatter. “It’s okay,” you say quickly. You shift closer to him without asking first, halfway into his lap, trying to give him some of the contact he wants without getting his hands involved. “You could go slow. Or be careful. Or if you had gloves –”

Tenko’s eyes light up. “Wait here.”

You shift out of his lap as requested and he gets to his feet, heading for one corner of the room. You take a second to get composed.  You can still taste Tenko’s blood on your lips, and when you raise your hands to touch your cheeks, they feel hot. Kissing him feels good, is good – but you’ve always liked your makeouts a little more hands-on, and once Tenko’s able to touch you safely, you can’t vouch for how well you’ll behave yourself. Are you really the only one who’s ever kissed him? He must be a quick study. Even with his blood on your lips, you’re already missing the heat of his mouth on yours.

Tenko’s back a moment later. He has a pair of gloves on – gloves that are missing the first three fingers. It takes all five to activate his quirk, which means you’re safe, and he still has the chance to touch you directly. He hesitates before he sits down again. “Do you really want –”

“Yes.” You catch his hand – it’s safe to do that now – and pull him down beside you. He makes a startled sound, which you immediately muffle in a kiss. It’s cute, but there are sounds you like better. “I want you.”

You were going to be more specific with what you wanted – I want you sounds heavy as all hell when the two of you have only just gotten physical – but Tenko doesn’t give you the chance. He wraps his arms around you tightly, so tight that it’s almost hard to breathe, but he doesn’t hold you that way for long. Soon enough his hands are roaming across your back from shoulder to hip, freezing briefly when they encounter your bra through your shirt, all while he deepens the kiss to an almost unsustainable degree. It’s like he’s trying to steal the air out of your lungs.

Tenko’s hands seize your shoulder, your hip, and grip hard. You don’t like being handled roughly, but held – that’s something different. You swallow a gasp and press closer to him, almost in his lap again. His grip on you tightens further and he pulls you the rest of the way. Your lips unlock from his in the move, coming loose with a slurping sound that would probably make you cringe under other circumstances, with someone else. As it is, you seize the opportunity to catch your breath.

Tenko looks up at you. His fingers are pressing deeply into your skin, hard enough to bruise through your clothes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, pressing against your own, and his red eyes are wide, pupils dilated. When you shift, trying to get settled in his lap, he sucks in a sharp breath. “Hold still.”

You’re comfortable now. You don’t mind. You look at him, studying the small things, the ones you remember from before. The tousled, slightly messy texture of his hair. His eyelashes, always a little longer than you expect them to be. The birthmark at the corner of his mouth, which you lean in to kiss lightly. You’ve always wanted to do that. Half the reason your first kiss was so messy was because you couldn’t decide whether to aim for the birthmark or his lips.

When you draw back, you see a surprised look on Tenko’s face. “You like that?” he asks. You nod, and a strange expression flickers across his face. “My grandma had it too.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“My other one. I saw in a picture.” Tenko’s thumb moves in slow circles over your hip, like he’s rubbing a worry stone. You don’t think he even knows he’s doing it. “She was a hero.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to say that. He nods. “You never told me.”

“I was going to.” Tenko’s eyes shift away from yours. “I found out that day.”

That day. It takes you a second to parse that, but once you do, your blood runs cold. The question balances on the tip of your tongue, a question you’ve been asking yourself for fifteen years, a question you know you shouldn’t ask him. You don’t need to know what happened. You saw what happened. All you need to know is that he’s here.

“Hey,” you say softly. Tenko won’t look at you, so you reach out, cupping the curve of his cheek, turning him back to put you face to face, if not eye to eye. “I’m glad you told me now. Better late than never. It would have been good to know for our games.”

Tenko scoffs at that. “We used to play some stupid games.”

“I liked them,” you say. “I like any game I play with you.”

Tenko’s been avoiding eye contact, but now he looks at you, and your breath catches. You can’t let him look at you like that. You’ll say more than you mean to. “Do you want to keep talking?” you ask. “Or do you want to make out some more?”

For a second you think Tenko will opt for talking. He looks like he’s thinking about it. Then the hand on your shoulder shifts to wrap around the back of your neck, and he drags you down for another kiss.

This position seems like it works for the two of you. The difference in your heights is perfect for it, and it gives you a little more control over the kissing while giving Tenko the chance to put his hands wherever he wants. He keeps them well clear of anything too forward, and eventually he finds a place he likes for both of them – one on your lower back, beneath the hem of your shirt, and the other around the back of your neck. It keeps you close, as if there was any chance you’d pull away.

You’re kissing too deeply to talk, except for once, when Tenko pulls away to make eye contact. “No more dates with heroes.”

You only went on that one date with Sugimura. After the night on the rooftop in Hosu, you had to accept that your feelings were elsewhere. “None for you, either.”

Tenko snorts. Then, almost as an afterthought: “No more with anybody.”

“You’re trying to lock it down already?” you tease. “It’s only our second date.”

“I don’t care.” Tenko’s expression is serious. “I don’t want another sidekick. You shouldn’t want another –”

He trails off, searching for the word. The word that follows naturally is ‘hero’, but you understand why he won’t use it. “I don’t want that,” you say. “You can lock me down. As long as I get to lock you down. It’s only fair.”

When you’ve had talks with guys about exclusivity in the past, they’ve looked vaguely annoyed. Tenko actually looks pleased with the thought. Not that that stops him from ribbing you about it. “You’re the one with seven siblings. You don’t like sharing?”

“I hate it.” you say, and he laughs. “You would, too, if you were me.”

Tenko smirks. He leans back from you without loosening his grip. “Go ahead, then,” he says. “Lock me down.”

He really shouldn’t challenge you like that. It gives you ideas. You lean in like you’re going to kiss him again, diverting at the last second to kiss the side of his neck, and Tenko’s complaints about how you don’t get to lock him down if you won’t even kiss him evaporate in seconds. You keep kissing him anyway. He wants you to lock him down? Fine. You’ll make sure everybody who looks at him knows that he belongs to somebody, even if they don’t know who that somebody is.

His neck is sensitive, and he’s not the quiet type. As high as his pain tolerance supposedly is, he’s almost absurdly sensitive to pleasure, and you like the idea of making him feel good a little too much. You know it’s working when Tenko’s grip on you changes, when he starts scrabbling for purchase on your back or your hip rather than holding tight, but even better than that is the unsteady sound of his breathing in your ear, the little noises he makes. You like it when guys are vocal. After one sound that crosses the line into a moan, you stop, and speak without lifting your mouth from his skin. “Locked down enough for you?”

“Fuck,” Tenko mumbles. You draw back to look at him and find his face flushed. “Maybe a little more –”

You kiss his mouth this time. You’re getting used to the taste of blood.

You don’t hear footsteps in the hallway or hear the door open, but you absolutely hear Kurogiri’s voice issuing from the doorway. “Shigaraki Tomura. It is nearly midnight.”

You pull away from Tenko, but not completely enough – there’s a rope of saliva stretching between your lips and his, which you deal with by leaning in to kiss him again. Tenko’s clearly embarrassed by Kurogiri’s presence, but that doesn’t stop him from kissing you back before he pulls away. “Knock next time,” he snaps at Kurogiri. “Are they here?”

“I will retrieve them shortly. Once the two of you are presentable.” Kurogiri apparently doesn’t trust the two of you not to go back to making out. He stands in the doorway, watching as you scramble out of Tenko’s lap and Tenko gets to his feet. “So the date went well?”

There’s that syntax shift again. “Shut up,” Tenko mutters. “Don’t act like you didn’t break my rule. You took her to Sensei. You’re lucky I don’t kill you.”

“If his orders contradict yours, my instructions are to follow his,” Kurogiri says. Tenko’s head snaps up. “I thought you were aware.”

“Now I am.” Tenko straightens his shirt and settles the hand over his face. He turns to face you and you wince. “What?”

You’ve seen the sketch of him from the USJ incident. It’s been all over the news for the past few weeks. “The hands for your neck – you might want them. There’s, um, evidence.”

“Evidence?” Tenko repeats, puzzled. Then his face turns red around the hand. He hurries to the far corner of the room and lifts a set of hands out, quickly securing them around his neck. “Can you see it now?”

You shake your head. “It is well hidden,” Kurogiri remarks. He looks to you. “Your disguise?”

You forgot about that. You collect the veil and crown off the end of the coffee table and secure both over your head. “I will retrieve the others,” Kurogiri says. “But first, the two of you.”

Warp gates open beneath your feet and Tenko’s, and when they close, you find yourselves in the bar again. Kurogiri himself vanishes, and Tenko settles into his usual seat. You stand there awkwardly. “Where do you want me to be?”

“Sit here.” Tenko taps the bar, and you scramble up. “Watch everybody. Keep an eye on the Stain fans. Act like you already know the plan. I should have told you already. I just –”

“You had other things to think about.” Your veil hides your face better than the hand hides Tenko’s – your face can flush until you’re practically glowing and no one will be able to see it unless they’re right up close. “How will I know if you want me to step in?”

“You’ll know when, if you need to. I trust you.” Tenko looks left, then right – then down at his hands. “Fuck. I can’t wear these. They’ll –”

“Here.” You hold out your hands for Tenko’s, and when he extends them, you peel the gloves off and tuck them away. With the model hands on and all ten fingers exposed, he’s different. You’re not sure how to quantify it, but you know it’s there, and it prompts a question. “Should I call you Shigaraki or Tomura?”

“Shigaraki,” he says, and you nod – but then, as the first warp gates begin to appear, he changes his mind. “Tomura. You’re different than they are. They should know from the start.”

So he’s planning to make your status distinct from the others, right from the beginning. You don’t know if that’s a good idea, but before you can protest or push back even slightly, the first of the allies Tenko’s gathered step through the portals, and you fall silent. Unless something goes horrendously wrong, you’re going to stay that way for the duration of the meeting.

The first two villains to arrive are also the youngest – the girl, Toga, and the boy who named himself Mustard, after the gas. Next up is the fire quirk-user, notable because of his patchwork skin and the staples holding the living tissue to the dead. You stare from behind the safety of your veil. You have no idea how his body is holding together. It shouldn’t be possible.

Next is a heteromorph, green-skinned and purple-haired, wearing a Stain mask. He must be the one Tenko – no, Tomura – said was hard to get a read on. The one you’re supposed to watch.

Magne arrives, followed shortly afterwards by a masked man – Compress, definitely, because the two men who arrive last are the murderers Kurogiri must have just broken out of prison. They scare you in a way the others don’t, and you’re so wary of them that you almost miss the arrival of the last villain. And you really shouldn’t miss his arrival. After all, he’s the only villain here who you’ve met before.

“Twice?” you say, startled, and Tomura looks up at you. Luckily, everyone else is still getting their bearings, and at least you said it quietly. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Tell me later,” he says, and then he faces the other villains.

You’re not sure what he’s going to say, where he’s going to start, but in spite of the hands and the crew of monsters he’s assembled, all you can see is your childhood friend when he speaks. He sounds like he always did, laying out the details of the story before the game begins. “The heroes have regained their confidence. Because they dealt with Stain, they think it’s all been solved. I know that at least a few of you have questioned the effectiveness of what the League’s done so far. So have I. So we’re going back to what worked last time. We’re going to attack UA.”

Your stomach lurches. No wonder Tenko didn’t tell you. He must have known you wouldn’t approve. “They’ve tightened up security since your last attack,” Toga pipes up. “I took a look around, like you said. Nobody noticed me, but the whole campus is locked up tight.”

“Good work,” Tomura says, and Toga grins. Her incisors are sharp. “Toga’s reconnaissance confirmed my conclusion: UA is impregnable for now, which is why we’re not attacking the school itself. They’re running a summer training camp at a remote location, with significantly less security. That’s where we’ll hit them.”

“Them,” the fire quirk-user repeats. “Not All Might.”

“Not yet. We need to level up before we take him on.” Tomura’s shoulders are tense. “Hitting the camp, threatening their precious students – if the heroes can’t even protect their own kind, they can’t claim to be capable of protecting everyone else. Besides, that’s not the only reason we’re going there. You all are a good start, but we’ll need more allies if we want to win.”

“Why do you need more?” Mustard asks. “You’ve got us. We’re not good enough?”

Based on the belligerence, this is a sore spot. If Tomura can’t navigate it, you’ll step in – but somewhere beneath the hands, Tomura’s still the kid who knew how to make everybody feel included. “We can’t fight a war on just one front,” he says. “You and the others will win the strategic battle by destroying UA’s sense of superiority. And while you’re doing that, Compress and Toga will collect what we need to win the PR battle as well.”

“Indeed,” Compress agrees. “Are there other students you’d like me to capture, Shigaraki? Or are you interested only in the victor from the Sports Festival?”

The explosion kid. You remember him – the one who was so batshit berserk that he had to be muzzled and chained to a pole for the award ceremony. Tomura wants him for the League? “Use your discretion,” Tomura says. “He’s the priority. If you see others who are better suited to us than to the heroes, take them, too.”

“And I’ll get the blood,” Toga chimes in. Everyone turns to stare at her. “My quirk lets me turn into the people whose blood I drink! I can make myself look like a student, and I can say anything I want.”

Like a living deepfake. You knew Tomura was smart, but this is verging on diabolical. “What about the rest of us, then?” Muscular asks. There’s a sharp smile on his face, and just like Tomura, he’s tense. “Are we supposed to just stand around?”

“There will be pro heroes present,” Tomura says. “Mustard will incapacitate the students, but the pros will be more difficult to handle.”

“Difficult? For me?” Muscular scoffs and takes a step forward. “Just because an underground hero handed you your ass doesn’t mean I’ll have a problem.”

“If Eraserhead cancels your quirk, you’ll be in the same spot as me,” Tomura says shortly. He gets to his feet. Not good. “If you think I’m that easy to defeat, try your luck.”

It looks like Muscular wants to. Tomura’s hands are open at his sides, rising slightly, and just like you did in the convenience store last year, you speak up. “Both of your records speak for themselves,” you say, and Muscular turns to stare at you. “Tomura recognizes that the pros pose a threat to the success of the plan. And he recognizes that you’re well-equipped to handle them. That’s why you’re here.”

It’s quiet for a second. Muscular doesn’t step back into line, and neither does Tomura – but neither of them make a move, and when Tomura speaks again, Muscular doesn’t interrupt. “If you haven’t been given a more specific assignment, your job is to sow chaos,” he says. “Dabi, Spinner, Magne, Muscular, Moonfish – deal with the pros. If you have the opportunity to kill them, do it, as slowly or as quickly as you’d like. If not, keep them out of the way.”

“What about the students?”

Moonfish sounds like he’s speaking through a mouthful of razors. It makes your skin crawl, but Tomura doesn’t flinch. “The focus needs to be on the heroes and their failings, not on a bunch of dead kids. If that happens, that’s all anyone will talk about,” Tomura says. “Hurt them. Don’t kill them. That goes for all of them – except one.”

“Which one?”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“No.” The green-skinned heteromorph speaks up for the first time. “Not him.”

Tomura turns towards him, incredulous, and the heteromorph keeps talking. “Stain spared his life. He recognized him as a true hero. I won’t subvert Stain’s will like that.”

A joke pops into your head – Stain’s not gonna fuck you – and you clench your jaw shut. “Stain’s will?” Tomura repeats. “Stain lost.”

“His ideas still live,” the heteromorph – Spinner, you think – says. “Are you following in Stain’s footsteps or not?”

You see Tomura’s shoulders tense again and realize that you’ve got approximately three seconds before he blows his top. “Stain and Tomura share a belief that hero society is rotten to the core,” you say. “The fact that the only examples of true heroes Stain could find are All Might and a fifteen-year-old illustrates the decay. Don’t you think?”

You’ve put Tomura and Stain on the same conceptual level, and you’ve put Spinner on the spot – and most importantly, you’ve contained Tomura for the time being. “I guess,” Spinner says after a second. “I still don’t think –”

“If you’re worried about following in Stain’s footsteps, follow them by killing false heroes,” Tomura interrupts. “There will be plenty to choose from at the training camp. Don’t concern yourself with Midoriya Izuku. Act as your ideals demand.”

Tomura glances around the room. “That goes for all of you. Use what methods you’d like. Act as you see fit, so long as those actions don’t imperil our common goal. Disrupt the camp, disable any pro heroes who get in your way, kill them if you want, and assist Toga and Compress in completing their objectives.”

It’s quiet. You can tell Tomura’s waiting for an argument, and when one doesn’t come right away, he picks one. “Does anyone have issues with their assigned role?”

“I have an issue,” the fire quirk-user says. Dabi, you think. The one Tomura said was an asshole, and when he points one finger at you, you decide you agree with Tomura’s assessment. “What’s your role? Who are you?”

“Yeah,” Muscular says. “What’s under that veil? And why do you talk so much?”

“She’s our medic,” Tomura says. “She’s trustworthy.”

“She’s hiding her face.”

“So am I,” Twice pipes up. “And Compress. Shigaraki, too. Besides, it’s good to have a medic! If the medic’s good.”

You owe Twice for having your back, even if he doesn’t know you. Dabi doesn’t look convinced. “What’s your name?” he repeats.

“You get her name when I get yours,” Tomura says. “My alliance with her existed before the League did. She’s trustworthy.”

Toga squints at you, then takes a few steps closer. “I like your costume,” she says. “You look like a bride.”

“I can’t see your face at all,” Magne says. “Hopefully it’s cuter than the veil is.”

“I hope so, too,” you say. Magne laughs.

Tomura doesn’t like that. You can tell. “Kurogiri, bring the maps,” he orders. A warp gate opens in the middle of the room, disgorging a map taped to a rolling whiteboard. “I don’t know your quirks as well as you do. We’ll devise this attack plan collectively.”

Tomura wasn’t in school long enough to learn what a pain in the ass group project are, but given that villains don’t like being bossed around, it’s not the worst strategy. You hang back, physically and verbally, steering clear of Dabi and Muscular and only stepping in when the temperature needs to be turned down. You’re the least powerful person in a room full of people who think nothing of throwing their weight around. In some ways, it’s just like being at home with your family.

Tomura asked you to watch, and you start piecing together an understanding of the group’s dynamic. The most stable individuals in the group are Kurogiri, Magne, and Compress, all by a long shot. The most easily dysregulated is Mustard, and while you think Dabi and Muscular can probably control themselves, you also think they’ll choose not to. You have a pretty good grasp on Twice from your previous meeting. Moonfish doesn’t say enough for you to be able to tell, but he also doesn’t start fights, and Toga’s a dark horse. So is Spinner.

Spinner’s hard for you to figure. He’s got no criminal record, but unlike Toga and Mustard, he’s old enough to have collected one. He’s probably the biggest Stain fan of the group, the only one who pushed back against Tomura on ideological grounds, but he’s also something of a team player. His role in the attack gets settled early, and he shifts to the outskirts of the group. After a few minutes psyching yourself up to do it, you slide down from the bar and join him.

He glances over at you, then double-takes. “You look like a ghost in that thing,” he says. “It works, though. I’d hide my face if my face mattered.”

“How do you mean?” you ask. “You’re joining the League of Villains. Your face is about to get pretty famous if you don’t cover it up.”

Spinner laughs, but there’s a rueful note to it. “I’m not exactly breaking hearts by turning to a life of crime. At least this way I’m doing something with my life.”

Weird and weirder. “What were you before this? If it’s okay for me to ask.”

“Only if it’s okay for me to ask how long you’ve known Shigaraki.”

You think about that. “Does ‘a long time’ count as an answer?”

“That depends. Is it months or years?” Spinner asks. You don’t know if you should answer that, and Spinner can tell. “I know I pissed him off earlier. You shut it down pretty fast. I figure either it’s your quirk or you just know him really well.”

“It’s not my quirk,” you say. You think back to the first time Tenko told you his new name. “Less than forever, more than a year.”

“I was a shut-in,” Spinner says, answering your question without responding to your answer to his. No wonder he’s got a record. It’s hard to get a record when you don’t leave your room. “That video of Stain’s is the first thing I ever saw that made sense. If you all have the same goal as Stain did, then I’m in the right spot.”

You nod. Someone is raising their voice in the group, and you key in – but it’s just one of the versions of Twice, getting excited about something. Spinner glances curiously at you. “You sure you don’t have an alias or something?”

You shake your head. You might be at a meeting of villains, wearing a disguise, listening to them plan to kidnap one high school student and traumatize the hell out of a few more, but picking out a name for yourself feels a little far. If Tomura thinks you need a name, he’ll probably give one to you.

The meeting breaks up two hours after midnight. You missed hearing the date the attack will take place, possibly on purpose, and when the group splits, leaving just you and Tomura and Kurogiri, you don’t ask what it was. Kurogiri pours drinks for you and Tomura. You sit down at the bar next to him, and he speaks without looking up from his glass. “What did you find out about Spinner?”

“He was a shut-in before. As long as you can tie your goals to Stain’s, he’ll follow along,” you say. Tomura nods. “How did the rest of it go?”

“I’m leaving some of the on-site planning to them. I’m not there to give orders, so they need to be able to adapt.” Tomura takes a sip of his drink. “Dabi’s a pain in the ass, like I thought, but I’m giving him temporary control of a Nomu to use during the fight. That should keep him quiet for now.”

He’s thought of everything. “You’re good at this stuff,” you say. “You barely needed me.”

Tomura looks up. “Yes, I do.”

It’s quiet for a little bit after that. You and Tomura drink, you staring down into your glass and Tomura staring at you, until you look up at the clock behind the bar and realize what time it is. “I have work in the morning. I have to go home.”

“Stay.” Tomura catches your sleeve with three fingers, but a small portal opens, depositing your bag a few feet away on the bar. “Kurogiri can take you to work from here.”

“I can’t show up in yesterday’s clothes. And I need to sleep. So do you.” You’re right, and Tomura knows it. He scowls anyway. He’s never happy when you leave, but right now he looks unhappier than usual. “What is it?’

“Once the attack happens, I can’t bring you back until things settle down.” Tomura’s looking unhappier by the second. “The brat can’t see you until I know he’s with us.”

“Oh,” you say. You wonder how long that will take. “That’s okay. I understand.”

“It’s not okay,” Tomura snaps. “It’s – take that thing off. I need to see you.”

You take it off quickly. “Kurogiri,” Tomura says. “Turn around.”

“I will return in five minutes.”

Kurogiri vanishes, and once he does, Tomura lowers the hand from his face, pries the other two from around his neck, and just like that, he’s Tenko again. “It’s not okay,” he repeats. “I need you with me. I feel different when you’re here.”

“Different than what?” you ask. He must think it’s a positive change, or he wouldn’t want you to stay. Tenko doesn’t answer. “Send Kurogiri to get me as soon as it’s safe, Ten. I’ll be waiting.”

You see his eyes light up ever so slightly, but it fades fast. “You’ll forget.”

Your heart aches, but this is something you can fix. “Let me show you something.”

The last forty-eight hours have been chaos, and you’ve spent most of it miserable, terrified, drunk, hungover, or making out with your childhood best friend on his couch. But somewhere in the middle of that, you managed to get into one of the two boxes you brought home from your parents’ purge and take something out. You couldn’t bring yourself to wear the locket, but you tucked it into your bag along with your disguise, and when you put your disguise away, you fish it out.

Tenko looks suspicious. “Who gave you that.”

“My parents, probably. That’s not the important part.” You close your eyes and struggle to come up with an explanation, one that doesn’t make you sound obsessed or insane or too invested in this, in him. “I found this in a box in my parents’ house. There was a lot of stuff in there about you and me.”

“Like what?”

“Pictures,” you say. “A birthday gift from you. The valentine you gave me. I put all that stuff in there when I was ten and taped it shut.”

“Why?”

“My parents were taking me to get my memory wiped the next day, so I really would forget.” You see Tenko’s eyes widen. “I hid that stuff from them, but I saved it for me. So even if the memory wipe worked, I could open it up and remember you again.”

You open the locket and hold it out for Tenko to inspect. You see his expression twist. “I never forgot about you,” you say. “When we saw each other again, that’s why I reacted that way. I always hoped you were alive. If I didn’t forget you in fifteen years, a few days or weeks or months isn’t going to make a difference.”

Tenko’s jaw is clenched. The tendons in his neck stand out, and his hands are curled into fists at his sides. You were trying to help, but it looks like you’ve made it worse. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have –”

Tenko seizes you and yanks you into his arms. “Shut up,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shoulder, or maybe your chest. “How am I supposed to let you leave now?”

“You have to. It’ll be okay,” you say. “I did promise not to go on any dates with heroes.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your arms are around Tenko, and you feel his shoulders shake. “That’s not funny.”

You know that particular note in his voice. It makes you feel better. “Don’t laugh, then.”

Tenko snorts, hugs you closer and tighter. Then he lets you go. “Next time you’ll stay,” he says.

“If I have the next day off, sure,” you say, and Tenko smiles slightly. “We never got to have sleepovers before.”

It’s true. You asked and so did he, but your parents said you were too young, even though neither of you would have been farther from home than right across the street. You see Kurogiri reappear out of the corner of your eye and know you’re out of time. “Be careful,” you say to Tenko. “Come find me as soon as it’s safe.”

“I will.” Tenko gets to his feet. “Turn around, Kurogiri.”

“Believe me, there’s nothing going on over there that I want to see.”

One of these days you’re going to ask Tenko why Kurogiri’s like that, why he seems like he’s two people in one. Not tonight. There isn’t time. You have time for one more kiss with Tenko, but that’s all – and the instant the two of you separate to take a breath, Kurogiri warps you away, dropping you back in your apartment. Your bag lands on the couch next to you. You still have the locket clenched in one hand. There are still a few drops of Tenko’s blood on your lips.

You lick them away, feeling twenty kinds of insane as you do it. Your mind is crowded with dozens of questions, thoughts, images, memories, all of them demanding to be addressed at once. You kick off your shoes, move your bag to the floor, and lie back on the couch. Your eyelids are heavy the instant you’re horizontal, and by the time it occurs to you that you should let go of the locket or at least put it somewhere safe, you’re fast asleep.

[kesujo]

Chapter 5: Dinner - Part 1

Previous chapter here.

“Parker?”

Not again. He was not ready to tolerate Jessica’s shenanigans again. Especially since it was around the same time a few days ago Jessica knocked on his door, barely clothed, and demanded they copulate in his apartment, continuing even after hearing Hunter returning home. Thankfully, it seemed that Hunter was still none the wiser, but Parker wasn’t one to push his luck.

“I accidentally made too much for dinner. If you haven’t already made your own, do you want to come over to eat some of it?”

It was an innocuous question, but Parker knew better than to judge her intentions based on the perceived implications of her words. “It’s OK, I had my own plans for dinner today already.”

“Oh, aw, that’s too bad. I guess Hunter and I will have a lot to talk about while eating all that food today.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. God, he hated how much power Jessica held over him. But, if Jessica ‘enjoyed’ their adulterous activities so much, she also had a huge incentive to never let Hunter find out, right? Accordingly, she would never do anything that endangered their marriage because Hunter finding out would take the ‘fun’ out of it, not to mention that Parker would lose a reason to obey Jessica. This should mean Parker was safe to go over and eat dinner with Jessica alone, the looming threat of Hunter being home at any moment ensuring Jessica kept her hands to herself.

Still, he felt uneasy about the ordeal. Just the thought of being anywhere alone with Jessica made him feel squeamish, much less a private place like their own residence. But, did he even have a choice? If Parker had learned anything from his recent ‘encounters’ with Jessica, it was that she was as unpredictable as she was reliable as she was smart. Seeing as Hunter somehow still had no idea of their debauchery, Parker found himself believing in the sentiment Jessica shared the other day more and more: obey Jessica, and Hunter would never find out.

Parker opened the door to see an innocently smiling Jessica. Thankfully, she was fully clothed this time, albeit with just a thin one-piece, but Parker couldn’t help but still feel a little hesitant. “I’ll come over, but—” he looked around briefly, ensuring no one else was within earshot before whispering, “—nothing else. OK?”

“Mmm, I wonder~” she gleefully sang, reaching out to pull Parker out of his apartment.

Parker dodged, causing Jessica to turn back around. “Promise me. Please.” He added the last word upon seeing Jessica pursing her lips.

“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, it’s just dinner,” Jessica said, her facial expression suddenly changing to a bemused one, looking at him as if he had said something ridiculous. “Come on! I hope you like Spaghetti Carbonara!”

Arriving at their apartment, Parker was relieved to indeed see a large pan filled to the brim with pasta. Seeing Parker noting the pan, Jessica chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I thought to just use the rest of the pasta we had left, but it turned out to be more than I bargained for. Hunter can eat a lot, but not that much. Hopefully it still turned out fine,” she said, rushing over to the stove and beginning to transfer the pasta onto one of the three large bowls next to the stove.

He offered to help, but Jessica just shooed him away, telling him to wait at the dining table. So he did just that, but not before catching a glimpse of what appeared to be Jessica’s nipples sticking out from her thin one-piece dress prominently. It was hardly a suspicious thing—a woman not wearing a bra in her own house wasn’t something all too unorthodox—but Parker couldn’t help but feel a little bit more anxious at the sight. Throughout the rest of the meal, this feeling only grew: when she bent down to place his bowl of pasta in front of him, Parker could almost swear he could see the exact shape of her ass in the corner of his eye, something he was ashamed to know a bit too intimately; when Jessica went to sit down opposite him, he could almost swear he caught a glimpse of the pink slit sitting between her legs, a dull glimmer reflecting from that area; the very act of her sitting down was also suspicious, Jessica taking a bit long to situate herself before digging in.

However, the meal went surprisingly normally, Jessica mostly talking about her recently starting to learn programming and software development. Despite Parker’s job being in the field, he didn’t divulge the fact to her, scared she would use that somehow to maneuver them into some other messed-up situation. He felt bad about not offering help to her, but decided he would feel even worse if Jessica used the knowledge to her advantage to coerce him into trickier situations. The worst-case scenario—Parker shuddered to even think about this—was that Jessica somehow become his boss. He knew how competent Jessica was, hearing Hunter bragging about her brief but immensely successful business career, and if she somehow maneuvered herself into a position above him, the last place Parker knew he could escape from Jessica to would be gone.

“It’s—oh!”

Parker flinched, Jessica momentarily losing control of her fork, a brown blur flying towards him and landing on his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Jessica scampered out of her chair, Parker peering down to notice a piece of pork landing squarely on his breast.

“It’s fine, I—”

In the fraction of a second Parker’s eyes moved from his upper body to Jessica’s face, he saw all that he needed to feel all the burgeoning hope that today would be a normal one draining out of his body.

“Here, I’ll—”

Jessica had grabbed the hem of her shirt in an attempt to wipe the stain off his shirt, and in doing so, inadvertently—or, rather, purposefully, Parker surmised—flashed her completely bare groin to him.

“It’s fine, Jess—I need to go home, I just remembered—”

“Noo, staay~” she pouted, something that caught Parker completely off-guard. The juxtaposition between her frankly adorable action and her state of almost complete undress was startling. But while he could feel his blood pumping faster, the growing comfort he was feeling at the normalcy of their interaction had now completely vanished, the on-edge feeling he always felt in Jessica’s presence returning.

“Jessica…”

“At least finish your food first~”

“I’m—I’m not going to sit around and let you get caught like this. At least put on some underwear or I’m leaving.”

“Oor, how about let’s play a game: if you win, I’ll put on some panties and pants or you can just leave or whatever you want, up to you. If I win, I get to have my way with you.”

By the way Jessica’s hand was nearing his growing tent, he could tell where this was going. He didn’t like it, but he knew he had no choice but to comply: in such a precarious situation, Jessica held all the power. Plus, if he were to trust Jessica to go through with her word, this would be the first time Parker had a chance to escape Jessica’s clutches. “Fine. What game?”

She didn’t respond at first, instead unbuckling the belt to Parker’s jeans. “Jess—” he started but was silenced by Jessica with a finger on his lips.

“We’re going to need this for the game,” she explained, in one motion pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles, his semi-erect member popping out of its confines. “I’m going to sit right here,” she started, patting his penis lovingly, “while we finish the meal. I win if you cum first, you win if I cum first or if none of us achieves orgasm by the time both of us are done.” Just when Parker thought Jessica couldn’t get more ridiculous, now this? “The rules of the game are that both of us must eat at reasonable rates and none can explicitly do anything to make the other cum faster. Sound good?”

Parker would’ve immediately dismissed the idea if Jessica didn’t introduce those last two rules. To Parker, they seemed to only hinder Jessica herself: if so, then why introduce them? After all, Parker’s win condition included none of them achieving orgasm, and if none of them were allowed to do anything to each other that advances that goal, wasn’t Parker all but guaranteed to win?

“Fine. But no cheating, alright?”

“I could say the same to you,” Jessica replied, bending down and grasping the base of his shaft with her dainty fingers. “We should prepare this first though, I think,” she said, motioning for Parker to shift his chair backwards to which he complied. Kneeling down, Jessica glanced at circumcised tip of Parker’s hardening dick, her head hovering just inches above the reproductive organ. She coalesced saliva in her mouth and dribbled it onto Parker’s shaft, him shuddering at the sudden feeling of the slightly viscous, warm liquid coating the tip of his sensitive organ. Jessica’s lips curled into a satisfied smile, using her hands that were barely able to cover half of the total surface area of Parker’s oblong object to smear the translucent bodily fluid all over it. Unable to help herself, after a few careful strokes, Jessica bent down and gave the nearly fully erect cock a lick from base to tip. That seemed to do the trick, Parker’s penis standing at full erection at the stimuli, and after a few more strokes for good measure, Jessica stood back up to grab her own bowl and placed it next to Parker’s before situating herself in front of Parker.

She carefully squatted down, Parker’s heartbeat increasing with every inch of space she covered until his tip made contact with her sopping wet entrance. “Mmm~” Jessica moaned deeply, closing her eyes and throwing her head back slightly, “Help me.”

He was trying to avoid watching it, but now had no choice but to look down, and sure enough, the mere sight of her bubble butt presented oh-so-nicely right in front of him caused his erection to grow. He could feel the heat emanating from Jessica’s wet cavern dripping onto his fully erect cock. “Shit,” he muttered to himself under his breath, steadying her waist with one hand while the other grabbed his shaft. When her core aligned with the swollen tip of his dick, he gently pulled down on the sexy seductress’s waist.

“Mmm, fuck~” Jessica moaned, drowning out Parker’s own moans, his cock slipping through her vaginal lips and into her damp sex. Parker’s intention was to let Jessica down his penis slowly, but Jessica had other plans—after steadying herself by leaning back against his chest, she pushed herself down so quickly a resonant wet slapping sound could be heard the moment their groins made contact. “Fuck!” Jessica half-moaned, half-screamed, her back arching and her head thrown back onto his shoulder. “Oh god, I forgot how fucking good your cock feels inside me…”

Parker didn’t dare speak, afraid he might let slip a similar sentence. Feeling Jessica’s scorching hot pussy soak his cock in her cum, feeling her walls gripping the length of his dick like a vice, her shapely butt pressed firmly against his groin, the warmth and the waves of pleasure shooting through his body, he suddenly feared he misjudged things. Albeit faint, he could already start to feel that tension starting to build up in his nether regions.

“This might be harder than I thought it would, fuck…” Jessica breathed out, her entire chest heaving with every breath, her arms pressed against the armrests of the chair as she tried to gain her bearings.

“I have to push the chair forward, so this doesn’t count, OK?”

Jessica nodded, understanding his intentions. Seeing her approval, he bent forward slightly, eliciting another beautifully melodic moan from Jessica, lifting the two slightly off the chair. Parker gritted his teeth, refusing to let a similar sound escape his own lips, and scooted forward, pushing the chair back to its original position before carefully sitting back down.

After a few breaths, Parker managed to calm himself down—not completely, but as much as he figured was possible—and reached forward to finish his bowl of pasta. Fearing Jessica would disqualify him if he ate too quickly, he made sure to finish at a steady pace, the task being made harder by the distance he had to carry the forkful of noodles. What made it worse was the fact that every time he brought the fork from his bowl to his mouth, in his peripheral vision, he caught a bird’s eye view of Jessica’s boobs and the stiff nub at the peaks. He tried to filter them out of his vision but found himself glancing at them in longer and longer intervals, only realizing he was doing so when a noodle slipped off Jessica’s fork and squarely onto the object of his marvel.

“You like what you see?”

Jessica’s teasing remark alerted him of her awareness of his distracted side-glances, a groan coming out of the frustrated and embarrassed man. “Shut up,” he told her, resuming his meal. It wasn’t only the matter of Jessica’s perky tits being visible in his peripheral vision; if it was, Parker wouldn’t be struggling nearly as much as he currently was. What was worse was the feeling of her somehow soft yet firm ass on his lap, her cushiony bottom caressing the sensitive skin around his painfully erect reproductive organ which was being much more proactively massaged by Jessica’s tight pussy filled to the brim by Parker’s veiny, bulging cock. Parker could swear that he felt Jessica very purposefully using her gluteus maximus to occasionally tighten her pussy, but he didn’t want to appear to be making an excuse.

Jessica smirked, ‘accidentally’ dropping a few more slim, nude-colored noodles onto the soft, fair skin of her boobs, this time so that it partially covered her areola. He could see it slowly losing its grip on her smooth skin, the noodle hugging her curves wonderfully, just barely dodging her prominent nipple. “Do you want to eat these off my tits?”

“I thought you said a rule was to not explicitly do anything to make the other cum faster.”

“I’m not. I’m just asking a few questions. Unless you’re being turned on by them? But that’s your imagination, not me, that’s doing the work, right?”

Parker pursed his lips, knowing he couldn’t argue. All he could do was quickly finish his portion, and when he finally set the empty bowl down on the table, in an attempt to distract himself from Jessica’s pussy attempting to milk out a meal of a different variety, directed his attention to Jessica’s quarter-full bowl. “Hey, aren’t you eating too slowly?”

“Hm? No, I normally eat slowly. Eating too fast can cause weight gain, you know.”

“You’re just saying that! You’re breaking the rules right now and using that as an excuse.”

“No, I’m serious! You can ask Hunter himself.”

Parker was about to answer but was cut off by the barely audible ding! of the elevator. A riptide of fear tore through his body, his limbs, his entire body entering a panicked state. “Jessica—”

Jessica, however, was unphased. “Don’t move.”

“Wha—what do you mean? What if it’s—”

“Shh, don’t move.”

Parker’s hands were already at Jessica’s waist, applying a steady upwards force on her, but Jessica stubbornly resisted by putting additional weight onto him. Parker grimaced, feeling her supple bottom dig deeper into his groin; however much pleasure came from it, the fear overpowered it. “Jessica, please—” he stopped upon hearing the sound of the door opening, but seeing the door to the apartment they were in still closed. The previously faint sounds of footsteps faded afterwards, the terror seizing his body released all at once with a long sigh. “Fuck, that—”

His body seized up again when the sounds of footsteps reemerged, this time noticeably heavier.

“Jessica, fuck, we have to—”

“No. I need to hear the door unlocking first.”

A torrent of thoughts entered Parker’s mind all at once: the angry expression Hunter would don upon seeing his wife sitting on his best friend’s dick, the hurt and betrayal in his eyes, Parker’s inability to explain away the situation, the subsequent argument between the three … his entire chest, all his internal organs in his upper body, felt like they were suddenly dropped, like he was on a rollercoaster except all the excitement was replaced with sheer terror.

For the longest few seconds of his life, they both remained frozen in place, the heavier footsteps also gradually fading away. It was only when silence returned to the quaint apartment that Parker fully released his breath. “Jessica you—”

“That was exciting, wasn’t it?”

Parker gawked at Jessica. Wasn’t Jessica doing what she did because she was confident the person in the hallway wasn’t Hunter? Was he to believe that Jessica was this willing to put her marriage on the line for additional ‘excitement’? But after his attention was eventually drawn back to Jessica’s womanhood gripping his dick in a noticeably tighter embrace than before, he realized that Jessica was being genuine. All of Parker’s doubts, all of Parker’s questions, regarding if Jessica was actually willing to do what she threatened to do so many times in their previous sessions … suffice it to say Parker was now incredibly grateful that he had just decided to obey Jessica. On the flip side, however, this meant Parker had even less reason to disobey the ‘adventurous’ woman.

“You are insane.”

“But it excited you too, didn’t it? You got bigger inside me.”

“No, you just got tighter!”

“Hm? Do you like it?”

Parker knew saying those words was a mistake, and now he was deeply regretting it. Now, in addition to the accelerated rate at which his orgasm was arriving due to the increased tightness of Jessica’s flower and the steady drip of her nectar onto Parker’s painfully erect cock which also found itself leaking out onto his crotch area, her sultry voice making suggestive remarks was the last thing he needed to win this ‘game’ of Jessica’s machinations.

“Do you like feeling my pussy clamp around your thick, veiny cock? Do you like the feeling of my hot, tight cunt trying to squeeze every last drop of semen out of you?”

“What are you doing? This is clearly cheating!”

“Hm? No, all I’m doing is asking you a few questions, I’m not doing anything to you.”

“But it’s—” Parker cut himself short.

Unfortunately, it was already too late. “What? Do you like it? Is it affecting you? Is your imagination running wild? Are you about to unload your viscous, white seed into my womb?” Parker could barely hold on—his eyes were already tightly shut, but that just made the audial impact of Jessica’s attacks more potent.

“J-Just eat your fucking meal.”

“I have been. You can see for yourself if you care to look.”

Parker took the bait, opening his eyes which took a second to lock onto the bowl Jessica had deliberately held just in front of her perky tits, giving him full view of the swollen buds proudly standing at the peaks of each of her twin mountains. Sure enough, Jessica’s bowl was noticeably emptier, but the intended effect had already taken place: just the glance at Jessica’s delicious milk jugs was enough to push forward his orgasm, only a strand of willpower holding the floodgates back.

“Mmm fuck, I’m pretty close too,” she noted, her breath growing stagnant evident in her tone. “God, your cock feels so fucking big inside me, I can’t believe my pussy can actually stretch so much…”

“Jessica, please just shut up and finish your meal,” Parker begged, almost able to feel the build up readying to leave his balls.

“I’m trying, but your cock is so fucking distracting,” she replied, her breath growing deeper, eventually turning into pants. “Oh, shit … fuck, god I just wanna feel your dick rip through my cervix with your hot, thick load.”

That was the tipping point. Parker grunted, a single rope of ejaculate shooting into the hole of hot-and-bothered hostess, Jessica yelping sharply in surprise. Pleasure rippled through her body, causing shaking involuntarily, which in turn caused a rippling effect that rendered Parker’s willpower inert, the floodgates bursting open. “Fuck,” he groaned loudly, his hips involuntarily thrusting deeply into the mewling woman’s womb.

“Oh fuck, it’s so hot~” A similar orgasm rippled through Jessica’s body as the moan echoed throughout the dining room. The synchronized blowing of loads caused their groins to collide over and over, Parker’s groin and Jessica’s ass equally drenched by the time their orgasms had subsided.

“A-Are you done yet?”

“Mm, almost,” she answered, still breathless, “Looks like I won though!”

“At least—”

They were interrupted by another step of footsteps, but this time, Jessica perked up. “That’s Hunter.”

Parker didn’t even question how she knew, biting his teeth as Jessica unsheathed herself, pulling up his pants and rushing after her to the bathroom down the hallway. She flicked the light and the fan on at the same time before closing the door behind him, just barely in time before the door to the apartment itself opened up. “Jessica? Oh wow, dinner smells delicious.”

Jessica had motioned Parker to stand in the middle of the bathroom and was in the middle of stripping Parker of his pants, his shirt already gone, before answering, “It’s on the table, I’m in the bathroom right now.”

“I’m starving, mind if I start eating?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

When Jessica’s attention turned back to Parker, or more specifically, the semi-erect penis in front of her, Parker hissed a question at her. “How did you know that was Hunter?”

“Oh, I created an app for myself to let me know when Hunter is nearby, but forgot about it until after we heard those first set of footsteps. I had intentionally left my phone where I was sitting across from you so that I could easily see it when I was sitting on you, but got so distracted by your cock that I momentarily forgot about it.” The words came out of her mouth with her complete attention on the penis hardening in front of her in response to her careful, full strokes.

Whereas a few days ago, the only saving grace was that if one of them happened to be too loud, there was a chance Hunter just wouldn’t be able to hear or that they would bullshit it away as something else, this time, they were a closed door away from him. Parker had tried to distance himself away from Jessica, or at least distance himself away from the door, but Jessica just followed all the way to the closed toilet at which Parker took a seat on. Jessica shamelessly stroked his penis, still slick with her own honey, gleefully watching it return to its full size.

“Hunter’s right there, what if he opens the door? Why not lock it?” Parker hissed, making sure his voice was lower than the admittedly noisy fan in the bathroom.

“He wouldn’t come in,” she replied simply, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss at his swollen tip. Parker gritted his teeth, his fists clenching, refusing to acknowledge the resulting injection of pleasure. “Just make sure to be quiet and he will be none the wiser.” Jessica then moved her hands to the base of his shaft and opened her mouth wide, swallowing the upper half of his cock whole. Parker nearly jumped, tearing his gaze away from the incredibly sexy sight. It was all he could do to resist the waves of pleasure now assaulting his body as Jessica’s lips rode up and down his sensitive sex organ, her tongue dancing masterfully around his cock, lapping up her own juices and reapplying the coating around his dick with another bodily fluid.

“But how am I—”

“Hey, Jess, did you invite Parker over for dinner?”

Hunter beat him to it, the inquiry petrifying every cell and nerve in his body.

Jessica, however, remained completely unphased.

She removed her mouth from his cock, licking her lips for good measure before responding, “Yeah, I made too much pasta so I invited him over. I think I might’ve messed up or maybe he ate too quickly, because right after finishing he voiced his need to throw up. I’m helping him in the bathroom right now.”

“Oh, shit, really? Hm, I’m eating it and it seems fine.”

Jessica made sure to keep her hands wrapped tightly around his dick, pumping it at a steady rate while continuing to converse with her husband. “He said it might’ve been what he ate for lunch or the snack he ate a few hours ago that might not have agreed with the spaghetti carbonara.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Take your time, Parker! Sorry to hear about that bud.”

Parker was never a particularly good actor. As a principle, he didn’t like lying and generally viewed himself as being bad at it. However, in this situation, it was almost literally do-or-die. “Th-Thanks,” he answered with his best queasy tone.

Thankfully, Hunter seemed to buy it. “It’s nice to see you two finally warming up to each other. Looks like moving here paid off after all.” Jessica gave the length of his shaft another lick from base to tip, ending with a passionate kiss with the bulging head of his now fully erect penis.

Fuck. No, this was all so wrong. Just hearing that from his best friend made Parker feel all the worse, Jessica’s sly, knowing smile directed at him not helping in the slightest. Just hearing that alone made him want to push Jessica away, pull his pants up, storm out, and reveal the truth to Hunter, but he just didn’t have the guts to do it. He valued his friendship with Hunter too much, especially since Parker barely had any friends he was as close with, not to mention the positive impact he saw first-hand Jessica had on Hunter’s life.

In college, Hunter severely lacked motivation. He was smart and friendly and very much a people-person, but whenever the question about his life’s ambition came up, Parker knew Hunter never had a good answer. When they were practicing for interviews in their final year at college, this was the single hardest question for Hunter, and it wasn’t until meeting the supremely-driven and uber-competent Jessica that his own competitive nature ignited. His position spoke for himself: in just a few years, Hunter managed to climb the corporate ladder of the hotel company he worked for so quickly, in just a few years, the married couple had become millionaires.

Would Hunter revert back to the borderline depressed person he was back in college if he divorced Jessica? Who else could reignite that competitive spark inside Hunter? Was there another woman in the world who could?

“Come,” Jessica whispered to him, releasing his cock and standing up. From the look on Jessica’s lit-up face, he knew nothing good could come of it: and sure enough, to his horror, Jessica placed her hands on the bathroom door, the only thing that stopped Hunter from learning of his wife’s adulterous activities, and leaned over. Jessica reached her hand behind, her legs spread apart to reveal the pink, wet folds otherwise hidden by her supple butt cheeks that were being framed nicely by the wispy oversized shirt she was wearing, her fingers spreading the folds apart to reveal her exposed entrance. Her head was turned backwards, her signature mischievous yet lustful smirk on her lips, her free hand making a beckoning motion to him. “Come and give me my reward.”

Next part here.

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 5: Is your blood authentic?

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 5: Is your blood authentic?

Wordcount: 6.1K

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, depiction of suicide, self harm, blades

Description: You make plans to finally ship out, getting ever closer to your fate.

A/N: Hope you enjoy my work!

[Prev chapter / Next Chapter]

Simon has been absolving his distance a lot faster than you can handle.

He did as he promised, tries to go slow and from the beginning, yet the history between the two of you prevent you from feeling like it's a true beginning. It feels like you're both hiding from it, the looming truth over either of you. He doesn't fully know what happened, he doesn't know why your pen pal ship ended.

Even when it had begun it was tense, more distant than you wanted. Yet you clutched onto those letters from him like lifeline, no matter how much it burnt to read them over and over again, to whisper his words out in the night like a prayer.

You had wet those papers with your tears, crushed them, tore them and taped them back together. You had held those papers tightly in your hands, much like how you hold the files on the man you're meant to detain.

"We have to be discreet, if he senses something is up, he could get spooked and skip" Price proposes. He's holding a fat cigar between his lips; the smoke makes you dizzy. When he had originally been gracious enough to ask if it was alright, you had been enough of a sucker to nod your head.

Simon stood beside you in a rigid stance. He had said nothing either, so who were you to deny the captain his bread and butter.

"It's a small-time, close-knit community but new residents aren't foreign, tourists even less so. If we pose as one of them, stay low, don't attract attention nobody should suspect as anything other than another group of careless tourists." You offer up your idea to the room. You wish he would open a window.

Captain Price takes another long drag from his cigar; he keeps the smoke in for so long you think he might actually choke on it before he let's it go. "Hm, not a bad idea, gives us the advantage" his eyes flicker to Simon taking note of his careful gaze towards the scattered plans on the table.

"Ghost?"

You don't know when he turned this quiet. Even when you were kids, he was never the most talkative person in the class, but he was never this brooding. He's honed his focus a lot more over the years, you wish you could say the same for yourself.

You really wish the captain would open his window. Not only is the smoke starting to smell bad, but the smoke is already hazing the already dimly lit office. Meeting this late in the evening hadn't been your ideal choice, but the captain is a busy man as he said.

"If they find us out, we could be overrun quicker than we could defend ourselves" Simon speaks up after a moment of thought, "we have no idea how many they actually have."

"It's a risk we'll have to take if we're meant to make any progress," Price says while still holding clear consideration for the lieutenant’s proposed dilemma. Simon was objectively right, if the collective were to get aggressive it's likely they wouldn't be able to fend them off. Still death was an unlikely scenario, it wouldn't be their first resort.

He doesn't seem keen on the idea either way. "Even with Spider's intel it's a lot of uncertainty, what they have brought is extensive but...not much in the same lane," he glances towards you. His eyes say nothing but his gesture seems almost apologetic. You don't get why.

Most of the intel you brought on the cult was extensive but only scraped the tip of the iceberg. The things you once knew about the cult could have been changed, and most of the things you had on paper got burned when you went into hiding. All you had now was the few official documents that still counted, and your memory that often times don't serve you all that well.

"Spider?" Price asks confused. Your stomach drops. It hadn't even registered in your brain that he had used the nickname in front of a superior. "You two made up then," he smiles.

What.

"We're fine," Simon interjects before you can cast that bewildered glance you so desperately want to, "civil."

"Works for me," Price shrugs his beard creasing in a weird way when he adjusts his smile. "Spider could work for a good callsign, should you ever consider joining up with us again," he proposes. He is getting way ahead of himself.

"Unlikely..." you whisper quietly in response, the word concealed behind a heavy exhale. "We'll need to make our move soon. We don't actually know whether he will be in one town or the other, and if he is how long will he be."

"I'll clear it with Laswell and with any luck we ship out in the evening, there's no use delaying" Price concludes with a nod "can't waste our talents away here when we're needed out there."

Johnny hasn't felt this anxious in a long time. It borders excitement, but he wouldn't dare call it that openly. The promise of actual direction, the promise of being able to do something worthwhile, plus an interesting new recruit with them left him buzzing with newfound energy.

It has him pacing back and forth in his room, still with energy in his muscles even after Simon had dragged him to the gym in an attempt at tiring him out. "Would you calm down," Simon grumbles at him when he continues to pace back and forth.

The mental checklist in Johnny's head kept getting disordered. He had already packed what he needed for mission; it was an indefinite stay so the restrictions on what he could bring was more lax than usual. He doubted they would get much free time between the work they needed to conduct, but he'd be damned if he didn't put in some time to relax with his sketchbook.

There was a lot to keep focus on, a lot to keep track of and with his brain already focused on the wrong things it was difficult to not get into a frustrated confusion. "Johnny," Simon calls out when he doesn't stop.

He still doesn't answer, and keeps walking back and forth between the duffel bag in front of the bed and the dresser in the other side of the room. He needed to recheck his clothes. Did he have enough socks?

"Johnny."

He did have his pen, right? Extras. He should get extras if there was still space. Who knows how long they'd be staying, until they had something more concrete on the target mayhaps, more likely until there was a more finalized outcome on the whole thing.

"MacTavish..."

He really hoped it wouldn't surpass Christmas. His mother would be furious if he didn't make it home, it's been too long since he was able to see her and the rest of the family again, and despite Simon's apprehensions he knew they'd all want to see him too now that they've finally warmed up to each other.

"Hey! MacTavish, come help me."

Like a chord snapping in his brain, he spins on his heel to come plop down to his knees Infront of the bed where Simon has been sitting impatiently. "What is it," he huffs out looking up into his partners eyes. They had a way of being so expressive even behind the mask and the eye black, it had taken him a long time to learn to read them properly.

"Hold it," Simon hands off a small roll of support bandages into his hands. Johnny gives him an unimpressed look. Simon had been struggling with pains in his wrist, which was ironic as that was usually where he ended up himself with excessive drawing.

"Ye should really change it...get this one washed" he scrunches his nose up pretending there was a smell to get the dramatic effect across.

"I'll do it before we go," Simon mumbles and stretches out his wrist so it pops. His mask twists when, as Johnny assumes, he pulls his face into a grimace. "What's on your mind love," he mumbles out afterwards.

"All of it," Johnny huffs nursing the roll in his hands.

"Out of the ordinary?"

"Yeah, just everything about them," he thinks back to you, back to the meeting. You had been an antsy thing ever since he met you. He had chalked it up to you being shy, but later on he realized that wasn't exactly the case. You weren't as much shy as you were just anxious 99 percent of the time.

"Been getting along with them?" Simon reaches out to grab the roll from him again.

"Let me..." he mumbles reaching out to take a hold of Simon's wrist instead. He begins wrapping it around just like how he wants.

"Yeah, I have," he continues. "Ah think anyway..."

"They're difficult," Simon characterizes you rather nonchalant.

"They're new," Johnny corrects him, "they just need a little time, a little push. I still remember what you were like when I first met you, cold bastard"

"I remember you to be a pain my arse" Simon scoffs and turns over his hand so it's easier to wrap the rest of it.

"Still am sir" He answers cheekily.

He finishes the last wrap around his wrist, sealing it with the two little clasps. He watches as Simon retracts his hand, flexing it and almost stretching it too much before he could stop him. He had been there a few times himself; he knew how restrictive it felt, but any rest would do. It would be hard to get more rest for it when they deployed very soon.

"I like them," Johnny perks up again. "They can be charming in their own way; ah don't even have to drag them to lunch anymore they come willingly."

Simon snorts quietly in response, huffing out amused.

"Ah think yer little talk helped them calm down a bit, they seem more relaxed around me and Garrick too. Still tense but..eh...relaxed. Not so much of a laugh that one, but ah think they just need a bit more time, they have a funny side ah can feel it," he says with a light-hearted smirk.

"Lot of hope coming from you, taking a real liking to them then?" Simon asks, little crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes indicating the smirk beneath his mask.

"Can't tell me ye haven't? Used to like 'em something fierce didn't ye?" Johnny turns a suggestive look, one that is only reciprocated by a groan from his partner. He slowly rises off the floor and back to his feet, his knees starting to throb from the harsh wooden panels.

"That was a long time ago," Simon reaches out for him, puts his hands on his hips to pull him closer.

"But you did. They are a cute one, I definitely see the appeal" Johnny lifts a suggestive eyebrow. Though he somehow doubted it would happen, it wouldn't be the first time they had shared a person, it wouldn't be last if it turned out like it always did. For a brief moment he allowed himself to indulge in a pointless fantasy.

"Careful, Johnny. You don't know them like I do."

"Yeah, well ah seem to have a lot of luck with dark, gloomy, emotionally constipated bastards," he says with a smirk on his face. Simon's hands squeeze the meat on his thighs.

"I don't think they're interested in us like that. Don't got half a mind to know what they've been through; they seem very determined to get the job over and done with quick."

Johnny scoffs at that. He had always found it amusing how Simon couldn't see what was right in front of him. He was right that you weren't showing the same interest that Johnny was looking for, but the subtle attention you put into the details of your surroundings was noticeable.

"Ye have no idea how they look at ye then," Johnny blows air out through his nose, "got ways to go in warming up to myself but ye...ye already got them locked in."

"Easy." Simon says his hands traveling up to grab Johnny's wrists. It gets his attention, gets him to pause. "Just..." Simons clears his throat, "Just go easy on them, we don't know how they'd even feel about that. It's hardly professional, and they don't seem enticed in anything that isn't."

"Bit stuck up then?" Johnny mentions cheekily.

His smile drops when Simon gives him a look. "I'll go easy Simon, jus' jokin' around..." he turns his smile warmer, more welcoming to ease the looming anxiety that's no doubt building in his partners chest.

Johnny brings his hands to Simon's shoulders. They glide over them, squeezing at pressure points he knows gets his partner to relax. He trails his hands up, letting them hold the sides of his neck.

He doesn't miss the way Simon's breath hitches. He smiles at it, only satisfied when Simon finally allows himself to close his eyes and release the air in his lungs through a deep sigh. It wouldn't be the first time they would have invited a third into their bed, though he can see how this would be different for Simon.

He's typically not this worked up over a person. Then again this would be the closest Simon had to family that was still left, and he hadn't even been in contact for years. While he had originally meant the suggestion as a joke to lighten the mood, Simon hadn't exactly said no. It got further questions to stir in his mind, he would make sure to get answers one way or another eventually.

"At the end of the day it's jus' a mission like any other," Johnny reassures him, "with them or not."

Simon stirs, leans forward to bury his face in Johnny's stomach. It makes him feel mushy inside. "I'll tell you eventually...everything." Simon mumbles against him.

"I know..." he let's out a soft breath of relief, his arms moving to encircle around Simon's head instead. He leans down to place a kiss on his scalp. "Whenever ye're ready, we've done this before" he reassures him.

By nightfall it's reaching freezing temperatures. None of the clothes on your body is yours, and its warmth feels superficial. The plane is different than what you're used to, not so much packed to the teeth as what you'd have thought. Laswell was already having your new place of residence prepared with everything you needed.

You had always known her to be a resourceful woman. There wasn't much you could ask of her that she wouldn't be able to get you, the only real question was whether she wanted to or not.

Gaz took your bag from you, throwing it with the rest under a couple of seats. He had clearly stopped questioning your lack of belongings, though he seemed to find it no less weird.

"You got everything?" he asks looking you over as if you were supposed to be hiding something beneath your fuzzy jacket. You nod your head, finding no energy to offer him a verbal response.

The rest had already settled in, with their own things tucked neatly away. You didn't miss a lot about the military, but there was something to be said about the clean order enforced.

You walk past Simon and Soap, sparing them half a glance. Their hands are pressed against each other, a sorry attempt at making their affection subtle. You take a seat besides the captain. He's got a beanie on, tucked into a coat looking just as fuzzy as your own.

His eyes are closed, head tilted back, his hands folded neatly in his lap as if he were in a meeting. "You got a problem spider?" he asks amused, sensing your stare. Your chest heats up, your neck too from the sudden rush of blood.

You can't decide whether you dislike the new nickname or not. It sounds weird coming from his mouth; it sounds weird coming from anyone but Simon. It had been something intimate once, then it died along with some old memories, only to be reawakened on the wrong tongue.

"No sir."

You rip your eyes away from him, you could admire his beard from afar. The spiking pain you've been ignoring starts to come back through your nerves when you start to feel something warm and smooth trickle in your palm. Masking your hand with your other, you unwrap the chain from your wrist and pry the little crucifix from your skin. You wipe the fresh blood on your cargos, taking a moment let yourself linger on it.

You're getting closer to the source now, closer than you've been in a long time. There was little chance to back out now, but you knew you still wanted to. The only thing to carry you forward back into the den of wolves were the pure hatred you held for it. You could do little from afar, you needed to get in real close if you were to set it ablaze one last time.

You could already see it in your mind. Another system set on fire, coated in oil and with a single lighter flame, you could burn it all down like you were taught to. You could bring down the hellfire on the right person this time.

"Oh, are ye religious?" the feint Scottish accent pulls you out of your fiery thoughts. You clutch the chain back into the little wound you've created. It stings beautifully.

"No."

Liar, liar, liar.

You tuck it back around your neck, hiding it beneath the layers that feel foreign on your skin. It's heavier than normal.

The chain rests comfortably beneath the military slacks that was just one size too big. Your heart is all the way up in your throat, pounding furiously against your ribcage. You had been ignoring the nausea for the last 10 minutes, but one encouraging clap on your back from a teammate had you bucking over and heaving for air.

You could still hear his mocking laugh at the sight.

When you had finally agreed to join up, you had expected it to be hard but not this excruciating. You'd had at least 10 thoughts of quitting this morning alone. Though you couldn't deny there was a sense of community among your teammates, you also couldn't seem to penetrate the invisible barrier that kept you from being apart of that community.

The sun is blaring atop the blue sky making it hard to see. Sweat dripples down your forehead, you no longer know whether it's from the heat of the sun, or from the drills you've been running the entire morning.

Everybody here had their own layer of cruelty to them. It could loud and brash like the group on base that you always made sure to avoid, or it could be quieter more calculated. Ones you had fallen for more than once before learning your lesson. You tiptoed around it, making yourself just good enough to qualify without standing out terribly much.

"You alright?"

You raise your head to look at her. About the only person you could rely on even a little here. You had joined up around the same time, through the same unconventional way. She had taken notice of you first, practically pushed her way through the crowd to introduce herself to you specifically. The weirdness of it in general was still throwing you off till this day.

"Thanks, Emma...yeah I'll live" you accept her outstretched hand offering support despite not truly needing it. At least she had always been nice, never demanding.

She claps her hand over your back, letting out the sweetest sunshine giggle you've ever heard. It makes you want to barf, yet you can't help but love it all the same. A nice cooling gust of winds pass the two of you, and her hand shoots up in a protective manner for her hair. She was still seeming to struggle with her new hairstyle, long black hair wound up in the tightest bun known to man. How her scalp isn't hurting constantly you have no idea.

"Don't worry, lunch will be here soon, can get some nutrition into you- "

A loud whistle interrupts her and sets everyone into motion. She quickly grabs onto your arm to pull you over in the forming line. You do your best to bite back on the hiss of pain, when her thumb presses down on the bruise beneath your long sleeves.

You straighten your back after she has practically shoved you into formation, eager to have you do it right on time. Her own version of a kind gesture after you came last three times in a row, and got pointed out even more than that.

One of your superiors starts walking down the line with someone else awfully familiar. You keep your eyes straight whenever your superior looks your way, but you manage to catch a glimpse of who he is. The man who got you into the whole thing in the first place. You hold back the excitement in your chest.

He stands tall, a true leader, blonde hair sleeked back and an expression on his face that would send any recruit running. It makes you smile. You had a lot to learn from him, and he had promised to teach you.

Your eyes dart to a furry companion he had brought. A big dog, you think. It looks a little too big to just be a dog, a little too wild for you to trust it wouldn't bite. It walks perfectly in line with him, it's tail swaying slowly behind it. Its coat is beautiful if it wasn't for the giant red cross painted across its head and down it's muzzle.

It has something uneasy stirring in your stomach. You force your gaze back up, catching yourself staring at him, he's staring back. He nods towards you, and sends you a smile that makes your legs feel like jelly.

His office is pristine. Not a single thing out of place, not a speck of dust to be found. It didn't get used often. He was always out travelling between places of God knows where, doing things that was to prepare for His grand plan. Or so he said anyway.

"Come in," he calls on you, your name sweet on his lips like the beckoning echo of weeping angels. He'd finally show you the way, like he had promised in the graveyard turned to ash. His elbows rest on his desk, his chin prepped on top of his folded hands as he regards you with a cold gaze.

You advance without falter in your step, coming to a stop at a more respectable distance. The same overgrown dog was resting in a corner of the room. Its black eyes follow you your every movement, as if just waiting for the command to strike at you.

"I'm not going to waste your time with menial formality," he slides an open convolute across the table, yet it's still too far away to read the small text. A formal invitation he clearly doesn't expect you to actually read.

"You'll be finishing your basic training soon, and what will happen to you next will be decided." He takes a moment to watch your reaction, but you remain stoic, giving him a simple nod in confirmation. "I've made a couple of deals to have you transferred directly under my care for my own initiative. All I need is for you to...agree to it," his tone turns leading, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Ofcourse, I'll agre-"

He speaks your name sternly, cutting you off before you can go on your rant about how you were practically ready to devote your life to this thing, whatever it was.

"I need to know that you'll be in it, truly in it. This new project is unconventional to what you've previously been exposed to. It will test your patience, your willpower, your faith. Do you believe you have the strength for it? Do you believe your blood is authentic? and will you be ready to spill it for the cause being run in His name?"

You nod fast. Too fast.

"Good, I didn't expect anything else from you. You'll be finishing your training here, I believe there may be others among your rank that would be inclined to join our cause as well, I expect you to find them and lead them towards the path."

He looks at you with an unrivalled determination, a fire roaring loud and hot inside him to drive him towards his goal. His expression doesn't leave much room for question or doubt, and before you can even comprehend what you're agreeing to, you take the first real step in.

"Don't worry, I have someone in mind, sir."

It's a little cabin in the distance. Laswell hadn't promised anything luxurious, you were there on "vacation," but you apparently couldn't afford something proper closer to the town itself. Still the sorry thing that tips over in hill in the distance made you want to turn around and walk the 30 minutes back to the plane.

You knew it was going to be an uncomfortable few weeks, if the ache in your body had anything to say for it. You had already declared snow your new mortal enemy in the first ten minutes of walking through the forest and sinking into the ground with each step.

There had already been the expectation and the preparations for a colder climate, but you hadn't expected to have snow up to your midthigh in some areas. Luckily it didn't go that deep near the dedicated paths. Some of them must be irregularly cleaned for tourists.

You've been walking at an irregular pace yourself, getting continuously passed by the others until Simon fell into step with you a few minutes ago. He blends in with his surroundings uncannily, each step he takes is thought out, quieter than the rest. You don't doubt that he's made an impeccable soldier, back in your own prime he'd likely have been able to take you down with minimal struggle, if size was something to go off of.

The fatigue was already starting to enter your legs, your brain fighting hard to not give into any brain fog. You could only hope you wouldn't catch a cold from the drastic change in environment. Price shouts out something you don't quite hear, but you know what he wanted to say. You're finally here.

It looks a lot bigger when you're this close. A one story that makes itself look better than it is by raising its roof higher, giving the illusion of more space when none of it is utilized. Soap and Gaz are getting agitated the more Price struggles with the keys.

Simon comes to a stop a few steps behind you. He's always back there, trekking behind everyone else. You'd be lying if you said it didn't make you a little antsy. Price utters a loud curse you haven't heard before when he finally gets the door to budge open.

The five of you seem to have pretty much the same idea of immediately throwing the heavy bags in a big pile on the floor. The fire is already going. Whoever you were renting this from atleast knew a little about hospitality.

"Finally," Gaz groans, stretching out his arms till they give off a nasty pop, going to do the same with his neck.

Soap is the first to go on a little exploration adventure through the living room you stepped into, the open kitchen at the end, and the smaller hallway connected to them both. You had been right, not as big as mistakenly advertised.

"Aye...no food though, going to have to do some shopping asap!" Soap shouts from the kitchen followed by a louder bang, likely having been the fridge door.

You internally thank yourself for packing an extra lunch you could eat as breakfast the morning after, should your stomach allow it.

"Really, this the best Laswell could scrounge up?" Gaz says frustratedly, "I saw at least four better options on the way to this isolated thing."

"Be grateful you get a roof over your head sergeant, it'll do" Price responds in a tone no less frustrated. He didn't seem to be any happier with the place than his subordinate. You couldn't really put fault on either of them, it was far from stellar only the necessities to remain inconspicuous. 

Simon acquires the keys from Price, promptly doing his own little surveillance to make sure all the doors and windows had proper locks on them, and that they were in fact locked. You weren't the only one skittish about this place.

"Alright round up everyone, for tonight you are ordered to rest. It's been a long day, I know some of you are weary from the flight," he gives you a pointed look that feels almost accusatory. Soap walks back to little circle you had unintentionally formed, dragging Simon with him by his sleeve on his way.

"We don't have a lot of space to deal with so, Garrick and I will be the taking the smaller room at the end of the hall, Ghost, Soap and Spider can share the bigger one, figure out sleeping arrangements amongst yourselves."

"Only two beds, shouldn't be a problem for you two to share" Gaz says in a joking tone, putting a hand on Soap's shoulder that gets almost immediately shaken off. You keep your eyes to the ground. It wasn't any of your business. You fear they take notice.

"You're grown adults, I expect you to be able to figure it out," Price says already laying the ground rules of don't disturb him today. "I will be turning in, I suggest you all do the same, the real work starts tomorrow."

"Yeah yeah" Simon grumbles in a lower voice than normal, putting a firm hand on Soap's back to steer him away from the conversation before it drags out. Wordlessly you follow them down the hall, keeping a greater distance, at least as much as the narrow way would allow.

"Better not be cramped" Soap grumbles turning the handle and using more force than necessary on the door. It was his lucky day. The room was a lot more spacious than you had imagine it to be, it almost makes you feel bad for the captain and the other sergeant that they didn't opt for this one.

Two beds, two dressers, a big mirror on top of one of them and large windows at the end of the room looking onto the snowy mountains. It was better than you'd had in over a year, you had little to complain about.

Mountains. The mountains. The idea strikes you like a quiet zap of electricity. If the cave systems were still accessible it would be a viable place to investigate. If you knew the cult well, and you did, they were likely going to put the old pathways to use again.

Soap says something you don't catch as he walks over and claims one of the beds for him and Simon. You walk and claim the other one by placing your duffel on top of it. It was going to be weird sleeping next to them, or opposite of them. You could only pray that you wouldn't be visibly weird about it

"Ah guess It won't be so bad," Soap let's out a relieved sigh, finally able to dispose of some of the heavier gear and clothes that kept him warm.

"As Price said, it'll do" Simon agrees with a quiet hum and nod of his head.

Soap starts to roam around the room, opening the closet doors, moving the curtains around, stifling his curiosity the practical way. "Well should do, we have enough space, plenty of closet space for each of us, a damn good scenery out the window, can almost excuse it for a small vacation."

"Going to be far from a vacation this," you chuckle quietly, slightly enthused by his own newfound excitement over your living space.

"We should keep the curtains closed; we're exposed like this" Simon ever so practical walks over tugging on the curtains. He leaves it halfway open to let some light in while the sun was still up. It wouldn't be long before it would descend again and cloak the woods in a thick darkness.

"What do ye reckon is in there?" Soap gestures towards the door behind you. He walks a little close as you turn around to inspect it yourself. You hadn't even noticed it when you first claimed your bed. It's awfully close too, perhaps you could move your bed a bit further away from it so it wouldn't bother you if anyone should go in there, or out of there.

"Don't know...more closet space?" it's meant as a joke but turned away from them you can't see their reactions. You place your hand on the handle. It's ice cold. Your eyebrow furrows. The rest of the room had been comfortably warm, not even chilly despite the icy temperatures outside.

You open the door towards you to take a look inside. You feel your blood run cold. Your body freezing in place. Your hand gripping the handle impossibly tighter.

It's a bathroom. Ugly tile floor, small toilet to the right, sink next to it, shower right in front. You could almost have missed the blood from how well it mixes in with the orange tiles. But it's hard to ignore the body.

Her dead eyes are staring you down. Her last accusatory yet sad words are still on her lips unspoken. Her body is still wet from the water, the blood pooling from her arm mixing in with the water on the floor too. Her naked body is still littered with scars from head to toe. Though the cut going from wrist down her forearm hadn't been meant to add to the collection.

It had been final.

Intentional.

You can feel the glint of metal in the corner of your eyes. You don't need to look down to your feet to know that the blade is there. You can feel the blood coating your own arms, tainting the door handle with your sin.

Do you feel it yet? The pressure?

The shadows pool around her, grasping at her skin, pulling at her flesh.

They'll know. They'll dig dig dig. They'll cast you out to the wolves.

You don't know what she wants with you now, what she wanted with you then. You can't remember, your brain a vast empty space, a mere echo of who she was. There's a chill in your bones, something lost and angry, wanting you to know and answer. You still haven't answered it.

You try to remember her name, her significance to you. A misplaced droplet of blood runs down her forehead. The red complimented her complexion well. It had been her favourite colour.

"Hey.....hey....you okay?" his voice is muffled, far away, in a different reality from yours. He's going to reach you eventually, they all are. They'll see it all eventually, they'll figure it out, distrust you for it, abandon you, punish you.

Soap places his hand on your shoulders and your reflexes fire like a gun. You grab his wrist hard, looking at him with an angered look that only lasts a second before you tuck far away. His eyes widen, guilty entering his features as he removes his hand and puts them up in defeat.

"Woaah, sorry didn't mean to scare ye," he starts off in a gentling tone "ye weren't answering, it's just a bathroom, right?"

"Oh fuck...yeah...I zoned out" you excuse it moving a few steps back. The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You look back into the bathroom. Orange tile, toilet, sink, shower. She's gone. Soap nods looking in himself, to your luck he seems to let your weird reaction go, yet you can still feel Simon's stare in the back of your neck. You don't turn around to meet it.

You bite your lip, keeping your eyes on the bathroom as if she would appear again. You almost wish that she would, because you know who she is, who she was to you. You've always known, as if you could ever forget it.

Her name had been Emma, and she was the first to die.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @islnd-vybz @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami

[tomblythismyhusband]

haunted [coriolanus snow x fem!reader] pt. 5

[summary]: coriolanus snow x fem!reader | After Coriolanus invites you to move in with him, you both having looming thoughts about the idea. Will this be a good thing?

[warnings]: this is an 18+ series!!! | mentions of choking, toxic!corio

[wc]: 1.2k

[note]: tysm for the overwhelming amount of requests for this series! i’ve got new ideas for this series so it’s definitely continuing!!! :)

**master list**

You believed him. You believed every dirty lying word that came from his mouth. You ate from the palm from his hand, agreeing with anything he said because he loved you.

After you made up with Coriolanus on that gloomy afternoon, he had instantly invited you to move in with him. You used to sleep over at his apartment all the time but now this was the next step up. A new chapter.

You felt giddy packing your things up and handing them one by one to the movers. Coriolanus was all yours now. You felt as if the sun was shining on everything he’d ever done. You know him now, all his haunted thoughts, guilty feelings. There was nothing standing between him loving you.

You taped up the last cardboard box of things and wiped your brow with a sigh. You didn’t realize exactly how much stuff you had until you had to move it.

“That should be the last of them.” You said to the burly moving guy who had been helping you all afternoon. He gave a grunt and picked up the box, walking out of your now empty bedroom. You gazed at the bare walls in slight sadness.

“This will be good.” You whispered to yourself. You could almost see it now, early morning breakfasts, late night sex, tender moments alone. Life with Coriolanus would be perfect. Simply perfect.

“Rosetta!” Coriolanus roared down the hall, summoning his maid. She was a sad old hag from the districts. He hated her presence most of the time, she was a constant reminder that district filth still roamed about the Capitol.

Rosetta came scurrying into Coriolanus’s bedroom, cheeks flushed and breathing rapidly. Pathetic.

“Rosetta, the movers for Y/n’s things should be here any moment. You will be the one to overlook the whole process.” He said in a bored tone. Rosetta fidgeted with her skirt. “But-“

Coriolanus’ eyes flashed her a warning look, sending a pang of fear throughout her body. “U-understood.” Rosetta nodded, bowing at her waist before exiting the bedroom.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes and let out a breath. He was tired of all the incompetent people around him. He deserved better. He glanced around his room. The thought of you now living here made him uneasy. Admittedly, he had only asked you to move in with him to distract you from thinking too much about the Lucy Gray situation. At least with you under his roof he could keep careful watch, make sure you don’t get any funny ideas of turning him in.

He could still see the fear in your face so clearly from the night before. The wide doe eyes, parted lips, pale face. Coriolanus hated to admit it but he loved seeing you that way. It reminded him of Lucy Gray.. how she looked before she ran. A fearful innocence that he craved. He liked that you were so naive. You didn’t seem to bat an eye at his words, because you so desperately wanted to see the good in him.

Coriolanus smiled to himself. You were his puppet, his doll. He was sure that if he’d asked you to marry him you would say yes in a heartbeat. All these things would come in handy when he was president. He could already see it now, him, dressed in the finest clothes, standing before Panem, while you, stood at his side respectfully, smiling towards the crowds shining your innocence.

He heard the sound of the front door creaking open, and heels clicking on the floor. Coriolanus sighed. You were here. He glanced at himself in the mirror, laid down a stray curl that never cooperated with the slick back look he had going on, and left the room.

“Corio!” You exclaimed when you saw his tall figure emerge from the hallway. He gave you a wry smile and opened his arms a bit. You took the invitation of an embrace grinning.

His hands were cold, sending shivers down your spine as you hugged. You felt his hand squeeze you tighter before his head dipped down next to your ear.

“Glad you’re here Y/n…” He whispered in a low tone. His voice sounded like music to your ears. He wanted you! He was glad!

Coriolanus let go of you and looked down at you with a look of adoration. His hand slid up your body till it reached your cheek, and cupped it. His thumb brushed against your cheekbones lightly making you feel woozy. You gave him a soft smile.

“Now you’ll never be out of my sight, darling.” Coriolanus murmured. You were surprised at the words. You wondered if he had meant them in a joking way and just had a problem with his tone. Coriolanus had always been one to use dry humor after all. Nevertheless you still grinned up at him, not wanting to ruin this moment you both had going on.

Finally you pulled away. Your gaze flicked to the maid carrying your bags down the hall with care. Your eyebrows furrowed when you noticed that the woman was taking your things in an entirely different direction than where Coriolanus’ bedroom was. You cocked your head at him.

“Why is she taking my stuff to one of your spare rooms?” You asked. Coriolanus stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Darling, you know I work late. Why would I want to wake you?” He gave her a small smile. “You can still sleep in my bed, but I thought it would be best to give you your own space.” You thought over his words and they all seemed to make sense.

“Well that’s…. very thoughtful Corio.. thank you.” You nodded. You grabbed his hand. It felt huge in your own. Sometimes you love the way his body engulfed you, until you remembered how thoes same hands had wrapped around your neck, blocking the air passage in your throat. Hands that had killed. You shook off this memory.

He didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. He was angry. He said he was sorry. He loves me.

“You know.. I’m excited to take this step with you Corio.” You said sweetly, gazing up at him. Coriolanus cocked a brow. “Excited?”

You gave him a nod. “I feel as if we’re… connecting you know? Getting closer.” Coriolanus’ stomach felt sick as he gave you a weak smile and nodded.

You had always been a dreamer when it came to him. Growing up in the Capitol, you were always told that status and marrying the powerful was everything. And Coriolanus? Not only had he been your friend for years but he also was extremely well liked in the Capitol. You were hopeful that moving in with him would eventually lead to… well- marriage.

Coriolanus dropped your hand and made a show of checking his watch. You pushed away the hurt that came from the action. He loved you. He’s just a busy man.

“I have a meeting to get to. Get settled in.” He murmured. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and left swiftly down the hall to grab his things before making his way out of the apartment. You watched him with a slight sadness you couldn’t explain.

You decided to take this as a sign to go see your room. As you walked down the hall you couldn’t help but notice the cold emptiness of the apartment. Especially with Coriolanus gone, life seemed to be sucked out of the place. Of course everything was clean and tidy, but it almost seemed like a museum. Not an ounce of love was in anything.

You sighed and entered your bedroom, and started to unpack your things, reassuring yourself over and over again that this was good. Coriolanus and you were fine. And you're just a stupid, stupid girl.

tagging: @merlieve

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirate’s Promise: 

This image would represent Sanji Fighting the Candies for the recipes.

A/N: Welcome guys! We are now on Chapter 7! This chapter is long! With both POVs from Sanji and Y/N, but there's also a few surprise guests at the end of the chapter.. Wink wink. As always thank you guys for following along! As always I have the chapters linked, chapter 8 will be worked on tonight! Now without further ado let's begin! 

Y/N is an established pirate and a formidable warrior, with the third highest bounty in the Straw Hat crew. She's not just another member; her strength and skills have earned her a respected spot among the crew.

Sanji, our favorite lovesick cook, falls head over heels for Y/N almost immediately. True to his nature, he tries every trick in the book to catch her attention, from cooking her favorite meals to showering her with compliments. On the other hand, Y/N may have a small crush on Sanji, but she’s cautious and focused on her goals as a pirate.

As the story progresses, that small crush gradually blossoms into something more profound, but their journey together won't be easy. With the chaos of the New World looming, the dangers they face will test their bond and loyalty to each other. Will their love be strong enough to survive the trials ahead, or will the perils of their pirate life tear them apart?

Get ready for an emotional rollercoaster filled with angst, action, and a dash of romance. I'm thrilled to take you on this adventure with Y/N, Sanji, and the rest of the Straw Hat crew!

Word Count: 7.3K

Sanji x Reader, Sanji X Y/N, One piece x reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7 (Here) ,

Chapter 7: A Test of Will 

Y/N POV

"Y/N… I… I can't believe you saved me back there," Sam says, his voice shaky as you both return to the hospital quarters. You can tell the fight against the King is still fresh in his mind, just as it is in yours. The sheer power the King wielded was unlike anything you'd ever faced. The punch he delivered to your midsection had left you on the brink of unconsciousness—astonishing in its force.

"Sam," you grunt as he begins to examine your injuries, checking to see if any other parts of your body were affected. "Like I said back there, you helped me when I was injured. You and John both saved me from the brink of death." A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the moment, the fear of losing everything. You smirk and add, "We’re friends now."

"The King was impressed with your tenacity and fire, Y/N," John finally speaks up, glancing out the window where the moonlight spills into the room. Two days had passed since you arrived on this all-male island, and the lack of a boat to return to Sabaody and rejoin your crew weighs heavily on your mind.

"I wasn’t going to let some man undermine me, John," you reply, your tone sharp. "Besides, the ass had it coming." You wince as Sam tightens the bandages around your wounds, his hands gentle but firm.

"Still, no one has come close to rattling him like you did," Sam admits, a mix of admiration and concern in his voice.

You nod, then turn to John with a question that's been nagging at you. "I do have a question, John, if I may?"

John nods, gesturing for you to continue.

"How did the King manage to divide the floor in two with just a punch? It wasn’t just brute strength—there was something more to it," you ask, replaying the moment in your mind.

John sighs, looking thoughtful as he begins to explain. "It's the technological advancements we have on this island. The King ensures everyone is equipped to handle any enemy that might challenge us. That punch wasn’t just the result of his natural power—it was amplified by a device he wears."

"A device?" you echo, intrigued.

John nods, stepping closer to you. "It’s a ring. When the King clenches his fist, the ring activates, creating a glove that can be manipulated depending on what the wearer desires. For the King, it enhances his strength exponentially, allowing him to cause damage to the ground or any object he targets."

Your eyes widen as you process this information. "So it’s like a weapon disguised as jewelry?"

"Exactly," John confirms. "The ring channels the island's advanced technology, and in the King's case, it gives him the strength of ten men. It’s what allowed him to split the floor with that punch and what makes him so formidable in battle."

"That explains a lot," you mutter, your mind racing with the possibilities. "But still, a device like that… it's almost cheating."

John chuckles softly. "Perhaps, but on this island, survival is the ultimate goal. The King uses every tool at his disposal to ensure he remains in power."

You lean back, processing everything. "Then I’ll need to find a way to counter it if I ever face him again."

Sam and John exchange glances, concern etched on their faces. "Y/N, be careful. The King doesn’t take kindly to those who oppose him," John warns.

You smirk, feeling a surge of determination. "I’m not planning to go down that easily. If the King thinks he can intimidate me with some fancy ring, he’s got another thing coming."

Sam smiles weakly as he finishes bandaging your wounds. "Just… don’t push yourself too hard, Y/N."

"Don’t worry, Sam," you reply, your voice firm. "I’ve got too much to lose to let this island keep me down. Now, what’s the plan to get back to Sabaody?"

John and Sam exchange another look before John speaks. "We’ll help you, Y/N. But first, you need to rest. You’ll need all your strength for what’s to come."

You nod, feeling the exhaustion creeping in. "Alright, but don’t let me sleep too long. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner I can get back to my crew."

As you settle into the bed, your mind drifts back to the King and the power he wielded. You’re not just fighting for yourself—you’re fighting for your crew, for your captain, and for the promise you made to them all.

Sanji’s POV…

"How many times do I have to tell you! Give me a ship! I have a promise I have to keep!" I barked, frustration boiling over as I glared at the “Candies.” Two days had passed, and every second felt like an eternity. Time was slipping away, and I had already endured the humiliation of losing to the "Sub" Queen Charlotte. The memory of that defeat stung worse than any physical blow. "Damn it! There's no time for me to goof around with you guys anymore!"

Charlotte smirked, her condescending tone only adding fuel to the fire. "Try a little harder, Candy boy."

Her words grated on my nerves. "So what if it’s an excuse! I'll come right out and say it!" I snapped back, turning away from them with my arms crossed in a huff. "If I don’t see some pretty girls, I’m gonna die. In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t my scene."

Charlotte and her entourage of “Candies” giggled, clearly enjoying my outburst.

Just as I was about to storm off, one of the Candies gasped, her voice trembling with excitement. "Wait! Is that…?"

I turned around, curious despite myself. "It is! Queen Iva has arrived!" she squealed, and suddenly, the entire group—including Charlotte—was shaking with admiration, tears of joy flowing from their eyes like rivers.

"Hey, what gives? Compose yourselves!" I shouted, bewildered by their reaction. This was getting ridiculous. But as I followed their gaze, I spotted a figure descending from a boat, surrounded by an aura of authority and flamboyance.

"Why do we care?" I asked, still not understanding the sudden shift in their behavior.

Charlotte turned around, her eyes wide with awe. "She’s the ruler of all Kamabakka Kingdom! Queen Emporio Ivankov!"

"Wait a minute, Ivankov?" I said, the name ringing a bell in my mind. Without hesitation, I made my way toward the sea where the boat had now docked. "That's the queen I read about in the papers. Talk about good timing. She was traveling with Luffy—she’s gotta know something!"

As the heels clicked against the ground, I looked up, stunned, as Ivankov descended the steps from her boat. "Ahh, home at last," she said, her voice carrying an air of familiarity with the island.

"Woahh, what a body!" I blurted out, admiring the woman before me, sighing in awe. But then I shook my head, pressing down the doubts that started creeping in. "No, I can’t. She’s totally someone else under all that hotness; otherwise, she wouldn’t be on this island in the first place!"

Ivankov’s sultry voice cut through my thoughts. "Hmmm, hey there, you got a name?" she asked, her tone dripping with flirtation.

I tried to stand tall, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Is there anything I can do for you... Candy boy?" she continued, her voice adding more fuel to the fire inside me.

"Yeah, I got a lot of questions, buddy," I stammered, trying to regain my composure. "Actually, the first one is—are you single?" As soon as the words left my mouth, I was stunned. "I can't believe I even asked that question!" I muttered, a blush creeping across my face. In a low voice, I quickly added, "I mean, it's about Luffy."

Ivankov’s eyes sparkled with interest. "What, Luffy? The cutie with the straw hat?" she responded, her tone playful yet curious.

"Yeah, that’s the one," I confirmed, trying to shake off the embarrassment of my earlier blunder. 

"Listen, I read in the papers that you were busting heads with him at Marineford," I said, trying to keep my cool despite the chaos around me. "What a lucky bastard that Luffy. Anyway, you might know how he’s doing! So, you mind filling me in on that?" I knelt down dramatically, extending my hand toward Ivankov. "Baby."

She reached for my hand, but just then, her nails extended, and she punctured her body with them. "How about now?" Ivankov said in a low voice as her real, more masculine form began to emerge.

"Awww man, and I saw it coming from a mile away too! Screw you!" I shouted, annoyed at myself for falling for it. "Now, tell me, how do you know Strawboy?" Ivankov demanded.

"We’re shipmates," I replied, still irritated.

"You’re part of his crew?!" Ivankov exclaimed, pulling out all the wanted posters of our crew members, flashing them one by one. "So, Strawboy is your captain?"

"Yeah, so?" I answered, trying to stay calm.

"And so, you’re friends with Pirate Hunter Zoro?" Ivankov asked, narrowing her eyes.

"HELL NO!!" I shot back, the mere thought infuriating me.

"What about Cat Burglar Nami?"

"NAMI, MY SWEET!" I shouted, my tone changing instantly, full of adoration.

"And what about Warrior Y/N?" Ivankov asked, holding up her poster.

I froze, staring at the poster of Y/N. Memories flooded back—her smile, her spirit, everything about her that made her special. I remembered the day she got her first wanted poster like it was yesterday.

Flashback

"You guys!" Y/N said, grinning and jumping up and down with excitement. I couldn’t help but smile back at her. Her expression, her smile—too beautiful to even put into words. That was one of the things I loved about her. Besides being a strong warrior and pirate, she carried herself with so much love and light.

"Check this out!" She pulled me out of my daze, waving her wanted poster in front of me. "It’s my wanted poster! They really need to get a better picture of me, though. Hey, Nami, mind telling me who took your picture? I need an updated one ‘cause this isn’t it." She laughed, her voice like music to my ears. Her bounty had gone from the original 20,000,000 to 50,000,000.

"What do you think, Sanji? How cool is this?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with pride.

I was lost in thought, still mesmerized by her.

"Hello? Candy boy?" Ivankov’s voice snapped me back to reality.

"Yeah, yeah, I do," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Ivankov held up another wanted poster. "So, this must be your wanted poster then?"

"FUCK NO! That hideous drawing is nothing like me!" I yelled, now enraged. 

Ivankov started pounding the images with her fists. "You’re not in any of these wanted posters, so you must be a fraud! How do I know your relation with Strawboy then?"

I slammed my fist on the newspaper she held. "What do I do to convince you? I already told you I am!" I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "Tell me what you know about Luffy now! Listen, the paper said you were there with him! So you must know what happened!"

Ivankov raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "So you admit this is you, then?"

"No, IT'S NOT!" I protested, falling to my knees in frustration. "I mean, kind of, but..." Bowing my head, gritting my teeth, I finally gave in. "I'm Sanji, but..." I choked and coughed, blood rising in my throat from the stress of the situation. "My, this seems like a problem area for you, doesn't it?" Ivankov said, clearly enjoying my torment.

Struggling, I finally admitted, "Yes, it's me. That hideous wanted poster drawing is me!"

Ivankov held up my wanted poster beside my face, scrutinizing it. "Sorry, but no match," she teased.

"BUT YOU STILL MADE ME SAY IT! I WAS FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE BACK THERE!" I shouted, furious that she forced me to admit it, only to mock me.

"Fine! I'll start swimming!" I turned around, ready to jump into the sea.

Ivankov gasped, clearly taken aback by my determination. "What dedication! You were telling the truth when you said you were a member of the Strawhat crew. I'll tell you everything I know about Strawboy, then."

"Finally," I said, smiling in relief.

"OR MAYBE NOT!" Ivankov suddenly exclaimed, and the candy men on the island burst into cheers, praising her cleverness.

"Damn it!" I cursed under my breath, my patience wearing thin. "Hey, Iva, since I'm a pirate, I've decided I'm gonna take your ship." I looked at her with fierce determination. "I challenge you to a duel!"

Y/N POV…

"Hey… Y/N, wake up." A soft hand shook me gently. Groaning, I turned my body, instinctively grabbing the object close, cuddling it. "Five more minutes, please," I whined, my voice muffled by sleep. Sam hesitated at first but then decided to let me cuddle him, his body stiffening slightly before relaxing into my embrace. His warmth sparked something inside him, and as he looked down, he smiled softly and pecked my forehead, enjoying the rare moment of closeness, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Suddenly, John barged in, his footsteps quick and urgent. "Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!" he called out, turning on the lights without warning. The abrupt brightness made me groan again, and as I turned, trying to get up, I was met with something hard. Blinking, I adjusted my eyes and saw Sam cuddled next to me, his hands securely on my waist. My face flushed as I realized the intimacy behind the act, and I scrambled to get up, causing Sam to tumble off the bed.

"Whoa, sorry, Sam!" I stammered, embarrassed, trying to help him up but failing to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks.

John, either oblivious or too focused on the news, hurriedly handed me a newspaper. "Y/N, I bring today’s newspaper! It appears something happened to your captain, Luffy!" he exclaimed.

"What?!" My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, yanking the paper from John’s hands. My eyes widened as I saw Luffy’s face plastered on the front page. "Luffy, what the hell is going on?" I murmured, frantically reading through the article, my mind swirling with worry.

Just as I was about to ask John more questions, two soldiers entered unannounced, their presence commanding immediate attention. Between them stood the King, his regal aura undeniable.

"Ahh, I see you are awake," the King said, his voice calm yet authoritative.

I quickly composed myself, standing tall despite the whirlwind of emotions inside me. "Your Majesty," I greeted, trying to mask my concern for Luffy with a respectful tone. "What brings you here?"

The King’s eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and intrigue as he replied, "I know who you are—Y/L/N, Y/N. You're part of the Straw Hat crew!"

My heart skipped a beat, but I stood firm. "Yes, I am. So what of it?"

The King chuckled, clearly entertained by my defiance. "I’m quite impressed. News traveled fast about what occurred in Sabaody, but I just couldn’t believe it was your crew that caused such a ruckus."

"We did it to save our friends," I said through gritted teeth, my mind still reeling as I glanced down at the newspaper, trying to piece together why Luffy had gone back to Marineford. The King noticed my focus on the paper and took a step forward.

"You’d like to know more about your captain, correct?" he said, his voice silky smooth. Sam and John immediately moved to shield me, but I pushed them aside, stepping forward to face the King head-on.

"What do you know about him?" I demanded, my voice unwavering despite the tension in the air.

The King smirked, leaning in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "Why don’t you come back to my quarters, and I’ll tell you everything I know," he whispered, his breath brushing against my ear as he slowly pushed my hair back, sending shivers down my spine. He leaned in even closer, his lips brushing against my neck as he added, "And come alone, if you will."

I stood tall, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him back slightly with a seductive smile. "At what time does Your Majesty request my presence?" I asked, my voice dripping with an allure that matched his own.

"Come by around 3 p.m.," he responded, his gaze lingering on me. "Don’t keep me waiting." With that, he turned and left the room, his soldiers following closely behind.

As soon as the door closed, Sam burst out, "You seriously aren’t considering it, right?!"

Jealousy flickered in his eyes, and I could see the concern in John’s expression as well. I sighed, knowing what had to be done. "I have no choice," I said, my voice steady. "But I’m not going in alone."

Both Sam and John looked at me, their confusion evident.

I smirked, a plan already forming in my mind. "Let’s give him an evening he’ll never forget," I said, my voice full of determination.

They leaned in, listening intently as I began to detail the plan, ensuring that this meeting would be on my terms, not his.

Sanji POV…

Grunting and panting, I felt the exhaustion settle in. "How is Iva so strong?!" I muttered to myself. The fight had barely started, and it was already proving to be a monumental challenge.

"Diable Jambe, Première Hachis!" I shouted, launching myself at Ivankov. My attack was blocked effortlessly, and before I knew it, I was back where I started, disoriented and struggling to regain my footing.

Ivankov, maintaining a calm demeanor, remarked, "You appear to be a sturdy fellow, but you could benefit from some discipline." With that, Ivankov moved in with fluid grace, launching a series of attacks. "Newkama Kenpo—44—Aesthetic Technique! Hair Removal Fist."

Each precise strike landed with crushing force, leaving me reeling. "Death Wink, Hell Wink, and Galaxy Wink!" Ivankov announced, each technique more powerful than the last, overwhelming me with their intensity. The final blow came, and the bell rang, signaling the end of the match. The winner was clearly Ivankov.

I lay on the ground, gasping for air, my energy spent. Ivankov walked over, a look of satisfaction on their face. "Very well, Mr. Curly Brows, I'll give you an update on Strawboy."

Confused and struggling to recover, I croaked, "So what made you change your mind all of a sudden?"

Ivankov smirked and tossed today’s newspaper in front of me. "Oh, please, there's no need to hide what the whole world already knows."

I flipped through the pages, my heart pounding as I searched for the headline. My eyes widened as I saw Luffy's face plastered on the front page—he was back in Marineford. "LUFFY, WHAT THE HELL?!" I shouted, my frustration and worry clear in my voice. 

Y/N POV…

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you glanced at John and Sam. They both wore expressions of concern mixed with resolve, a reflection of your own emotions. "Alright, everyone knows the plan, right?" you asked, trying to sound confident despite the uncertainty you felt.

John gave a nod. "Yeah, Y/N. We’re ready."

Sam hesitated, his gaze lingering on the outfit you wore—a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "You sure about this, Y/N? There’s gotta be another way."

You looked down at the outfit, your reflection showing a dangerous elegance. The dress, with its high slit and form-fitting design, hugged every curve while the bandages concealed the blade hidden within. Your hair was pulled back neatly, and the red lipstick added a bold touch. The heels elevated your stance, giving you an added edge. Instead of responding directly to Sam, you checked the newspaper one last time. Your eyes widened when you noticed Luffy’s left arm, which had a cryptic message: “3 D with an X over it” and “2 Y” written on it.

A smirk played on your lips. "Alright, Captain, if this is what you want, you can count on me."

John’s voice broke through your thoughts. "We’ve arrived, Y/N."

You turned to them, giving a reassuring smile. "Remember to stay in your stations and keep an eye out. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll handle the rest."

With that, you turned back to the grand entrance of the king’s quarters. The soldiers opened the gates with a ceremonious flourish, and you stepped through, taking a moment to appreciate the opulence of the space before you.

As you walked down the hall, your curiosity was piqued by the elaborate displays. Each section featured a glass case with various weapons and artifacts, their names proudly displayed beneath. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on each one, taking in the intricate designs and the history they represented.

Inner dialogue: "So this is the king’s quarters… It’s impressive, but I can’t get distracted. 

Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the hall, "Ahh, if it isn’t my guest of the evening, Y/N." The king’s voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous undertone. He approached you, a predatory smile on his lips. "Might I add you look rather ravishing today." He reached out and grabbed your hand, placing a kiss on it. You fought the urge to pull away, instead biting back your annoyance and forcing a smile.

"Your majesty," you began, trying to sound casual, "I couldn’t help but notice your impressive collection of weaponry. Might I ask why you’ve put them on display like this?"

The king’s smile faded slightly, and he repositioned himself, his eyes narrowing. "Why don’t I offer you a glass of wine first?" he suggested. "Then we can discuss it further."

He escorted you to the dining hall, where a grand chandelier hung above, casting a warm glow on the room. Soldiers were stationed at every exit, their eyes following your every move.

 Inner dialogue: "He’s thought of every little detail, hasn’t he? There’s no way out without a fight."

The king pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, maintaining your composure. He then took the seat next to you, much closer than you would have liked, the tension in the air thickening. He poured a glass of wine for each of you, handing you one. "To Y/N," he toasted, his smirk returning. "May tonight be an evening to never forget."

You smiled back, clinking your glass with his, but only pretended to take a sip. "Your majesty," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "mind telling me what you know about my captain?" You held his gaze, doing your best to appear confident, while subtly trying to seduce him for the information you needed.

The king chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I suppose so," he said. But just as you thought he might start talking, a soldier from the far right lunged at you. Reacting quickly, you threw your wine at him, blocking his attack and knocking him off balance.

In a flash, you were on your feet, taking down the soldiers one by one with precise strikes, your concealed blade flashing in the dim light. The king stood up, clapping slowly as the last soldier fell. "Bravo," he said, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and menace. "You never fail to amaze me."

You pulled out your blade, ready to strike, but before you could make a move, the king lifted his hands as if to surrender. Just as you hesitated, an electrical charge surged through your body, causing you to collapse to the floor, paralyzed. The king crouched down beside you, grabbing your face with a cruel smile. "Did you really think I’d just hand over information about your beloved captain? Ha!"

He slammed you harshly into the ground, pain radiating through your body. You tried to signal to Sam and John, but the king laughed. "Don’t bother. The windows are protected. Nothing can get past these walls."

Your breath quickened as you struggled to get up, but you soon realized Sam and John had been captured, their arms bound as they were forced to their knees. "Wait!" you gasped, struggling to hold yourself up as the king approached you with a knife pressed against your throat. He grabbed both your wrists with his other hand, binding you in place.

Gritting your teeth, you seethed, "Let them go. I’d rather die than see them harmed."

The king, not used to being defied, slammed your face into the table, and you fell back in pain. "Y/N!!" Sam yelled, trying to break free to help you.

The king ordered his soldiers to dispose of you, but as they moved to obey, you grabbed the king’s ankle, stopping them in their tracks. "Wait!" you breathed out, struggling to keep your head up. "I didn’t come here to fight… I came to ask if I can train with you and on your island."

The king raised an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. "Train with me? And why should I consider that?"

You forced yourself to speak through the pain, "If I’m going to protect my captain, if I’m going to be a warrior worthy of standing by his side, I need to get stronger. I need your training and your weaponry."

The king’s eyes narrowed, assessing you. After a moment, he spoke, "Training with me isn’t easy. Neither I nor my soldiers will go easy on you. You’ll endure more pain than you can imagine."

You nodded, determination in your eyes. "I understand. I’m ready for whatever it takes."

A slow smirk spread across the king’s face. "Very well. But under one condition—you will stay with me in the quarters. No exceptions."

Your breath hitched, and Sam looked at you with wide eyes. "Like hell she will—"

"I accept," you cut him off, your voice firm.

"What?!" Sam exclaimed, disbelief etched on his face.

"I accept," you repeated, your gaze locked on the king. "But only if you agree to make me stronger and allow me access to your weaponry."

The king crouched before you, his gaze shifting from your lips to your eyes. "You, my dear… have a deal." He sealed the agreement with a kiss, his lips pressing hard against yours before he knocked you down with a forceful push. "Training starts bright and early tomorrow," he announced before turning on his heel, leaving the room with his soldiers in tow.

Sam and John rushed to your side, concern written all over their faces. "Y/N, what did you agree to?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.

Gasping, you looked up at Sam and managed a weak smile. "In order for me to be a strong warrior for my captain, to protect him from every threat… I must get stronger." You coughed, the effort of speaking draining you. "When he sees me again after two years… I’ll be an even stronger warrior… and pirate… fit for the King of the Pirates!"

As the last of your strength left you, you collapsed into Sam’s arms, your injuries overwhelming you. Sam began to shake you gently, trying to keep you conscious. "Y/N, stay with me!"

Before you could respond, the king reappeared in the doorway, his presence commanding the room. "Oh, and before I forget," he said with a smirk, "you two will tend to her wounds and prepare yourselves as well. I won’t show mercy to any of you."

With those words, the king left, leaving you to realize that tonight truly was an evening you would never forget.

Sanji POV…

As I continued to examine the paper, the trees around me providing just enough shade, a smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. Luffy's message was clear as day. "Roger that, Captain," I muttered under my breath, lowering the paper with a sense of purpose.

Ivankov, who had been observing me closely, raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What’s that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. "Something interesting in the paper?"

I folded the paper and looked up at her, the smirk still firmly in place. "Just a little something that only a member of the crew would understand. Top secret, you know?"

Ivankov's curiosity deepened, her eyes narrowing. "Top secret, huh? Are you going to keep me in suspense?"

With a chuckle, I pushed myself off the tree, beginning to walk alongside her towards the castle. "Sorry, but it's crew business. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it."

Once we reached the dining room, a lavish meal awaited me, complete with a glass of wine. Ivankov watched me closely, still trying to piece things together. "You must have seen something in that paper. Mind sharing what it is?"

I took a sip of the wine, savoring the rich flavor before answering, "Like I said, it's top secret. But I’ll tell you this much—my Captain has a plan, and I’m all in."

Ivankov leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "So, what’s the plan?"

I couldn’t help but grin, enjoying the game. "Sorry, that’s classified. Only those who are truly part of the crew would get it."

Ivankov huffed, folding her arms. "You’re really going to keep me in the dark, huh? Fine, but don’t think you can tease me forever."

As I continued to eat, I noticed something different. My body felt… stronger, more energized. Each bite seemed to enhance my senses, sharpening my mind. I looked at the food on my plate, then back at Ivankov. "This food… what’s in it? It’s… different."

Ivankov's face lit up with pride. "Ah, you’ve noticed! That’s the power of Attack Cuisine. It’s a special recipe that enhances your body’s capabilities—makes you stronger, faster, more resilient. It’s the food of warriors!"

“Attack Cuisine?” I said, thinking to myself, this can help my crew, and even a little more a subtle blush creeps up as I think of all the ways this meal can make Y/N, Robin and Nami sexier than ever. "Teach me this recipe, Ivankov. I need to learn it."

Ivankov’s expression turned serious, shaking her head. "Sorry, but it’s not that simple. Attack Cuisine isn’t something you can just learn. You have to earn it."

I leaned forward, determination clear in my eyes. "Then tell me what I need to do to earn it."

Ivankov smiled, clearly impressed by my resolve. "Alright, I’ll make you a deal. If you can defeat the 99 masters of New Kama Kenpo, I’ll teach you the recipes for Attack Cuisine. 

My eyes widened at the challenge Ivankov laid before me. But as the initial shock wore off, a smirk tugged at my lips. The thought of what lay ahead was daunting, but it also excited me. "When this is all over," I thought to myself, "and I defeat those 99 masters, I'll become stronger than ever. I’ll become the world’s greatest chef, making meals fit for the King of the Pirates!"

With that resolve burning in my chest, I pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of my lighter. The familiar taste of smoke filled my lungs, and I exhaled slowly, letting the tension melt away. "Alright, let’s do this," I muttered to myself, determination coursing through me.

Ivankov led me to the training grounds, a sprawling arena where the first of the 99 masters awaited. 

She took a step forward, her smirk widening. "You ready, candy boy?" she taunted, her voice dripping with challenge.

I rolled my shoulders, loosening up and preparing for the fight ahead. "Born ready," I replied, the smirk never leaving my face. The cigarette hung lazily from my lips, a symbol of my calm in the face of the storm.

Meanwhile… Back in Sabaody and in the New World. Word got out of what Luffy did in Marineford. 

Sabaody… 

Trafalgar Law POV…

Trafalgar Law lay resting against Bepo, who was peacefully napping beside him. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of activity from Sabaody were the only sounds filling the air, creating a serene atmosphere. But that serenity was abruptly broken by the voices of his crew.

"What?? You don’t want to leave yet?" One of the Heart Pirates blurted out, his frustration evident. Penguin, unable to sit still, was pacing back and forth. "Let’s go to the New World! We’ve been sitting around here doing nothing! What are we waiting for?"

Law remained calm, his eyes half-lidded as he lazily watched Penguin. His cool demeanor never wavered. "Like I said, we’ll leave when it’s time. Have some patience. The One Piece isn’t going anywhere," he replied, his tone steady and authoritative.

"But Captain, Blackbeard's already taking down pirates to reach the One Piece first!" another crew member chimed in, a note of urgency in his voice.

"Yeah, and a bunch of rookies are heading over there to take Whitebeard’s place as an Emperor," added Shachi, his concern evident as he glanced at Law.

Law smirked, tilting his head slightly as he continued to rest against Bepo. "We’re better off letting them eliminate each other before we get there," he said, a calculating edge to his voice. "That’ll thin out the competition, don’t you think?"

The crew exchanged glances, knowing their captain’s strategic mind was always thinking several steps ahead. But Penguin, never one to pass up an opportunity for mischief, couldn’t resist teasing. He leaned closer to Law, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Are you sure it’s not also to catch a glimpse of Y/N?" he asked, his tone dripping with playful insinuation.

Law, usually so composed, visibly tensed. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks, betraying his emotions. "Don’t be ridiculous," he muttered, trying to keep his cool, but his voice betrayed him with a slight stammer.

"Oh, come on, Captain," Shachi joined in, grinning widely. "We all saw how you looked at Y/N before we left. You sure you’re not just hoping for another chance encounter?"

Penguin, still chuckling, added, "Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll be sure to give you some privacy when we run into Y/N again."

Before anyone could say more, Bepo, still deep in his nap, began to mumble, "I also have Y/N’s number…"

Law’s eyes widened in disbelief as he turned to stare at Bepo, who remained blissfully unaware in his sleep.

Penguin and Shachi both froze for a moment before they erupted. "What?!" they shouted in unison, glaring at Bepo. "You just decided to tell the Captain now?!"

Bepo’s ears twitched as he sleep-talked again, "S-Sorry…"

Penguin and Shachi threw their hands up in exasperation. "Don’t apologize while you’re sleeping!" they yelled, half-annoyed, half-amused.

The crew’s teasing atmosphere was momentarily disrupted, but as the laughter faded, Law’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N was up to now and when their paths would cross again. But for now, he had to maintain his composure—especially with his crew watching his every move. 

Somewhere in the New World… 

Captain Kidd stood at the helm of his ship, a newspaper clenched in his gloved hand. His eyes were narrowed, and his lips curled into a sneer as he scanned the bold headline.

"Strawhat Luffy… turns out the bastard’s still alive!" Kidd growled, the newspaper crinkling under his grip. "Rang the bell 16 times in Marineford… blah, blah, blah, so what the hell does this mean?" He looked up, his gaze sharp as he turned to his crew.

Killer, standing nearby, adjusted his mask before speaking up. "The 16 bells have a symbolic meaning, Captain. It’s a declaration of a new era. The end of one and the beginning of another."

Kidd scoffed, tossing the newspaper onto a nearby crate. "He comes out of Marineford pretty cocky, thinking he’s hot shit. Whitebeard’s era is already gone, and now he thinks he’s in charge of the next one?" Kidd’s voice dripped with disdain. "His bounty’s going up, and it’s only going to keep rising if he keeps pulling stunts like this."

He turned away from his crew, his mind clearly on something else, or rather, someone else. "Any news on my fiancée, Y/N?" Kidd asked, his tone almost casual, but there was a possessive edge to his words.

Killer, not missing a beat, quickly chimed in. "Captain, she hasn’t accepted yet. Besides, I’ve got my eyes set on her too." His voice was cool, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

Kidd’s gaze snapped back to Killer, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "She’ll agree, Killer. Even if I have to kidnap her to make her see reason," Kidd declared, his voice firm. The intensity in his tone left no room for doubt.

Killer tilted his head slightly, not backing down. "And what makes you so sure, Kidd? Y/N’s not someone who can be easily controlled, you know that. She’s got fire, and it’s that fire that draws us both to her."

Kidd smirked, a twisted sense of admiration in his expression. "Exactly. That fire is what makes her perfect. She’s not just some woman; she’s the only one who could keep up with me. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her…"

Flashback…

The bustling streets of Sabaody Archipelago were always filled with chaos and intrigue, a perfect breeding ground for pirates looking to make a name for themselves. It was here, in the heart of the lawless zone, that Kidd first caught sight of her—not in person, but on a wanted poster plastered against a weathered wall.

Kidd had been walking through Grove 20, eyes scanning the numerous bounty posters lining the street. Some caught his interest briefly, but nothing that truly stood out—until he saw yours. The image was slightly weathered, but the intensity in your eyes was unmistakable. The name underneath read Y/L/N, Y/N, with a bounty that was impressive for someone who wasn’t a captain (115,000,000). Your face, fierce and determined, piqued his curiosity instantly.

"Who the hell is this?" Kidd muttered under his breath, ripping the poster off the wall to get a better look. There was something about you, even in that static image, that intrigued him. A fire in your eyes, a promise of trouble, and a challenge—everything Kidd was drawn to.

He stuffed the poster into his coat, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I’ve gotta meet this woman," he thought to himself, already feeling the thrill of the chase. The poster didn’t do you justice; he needed to see you in action.

The opportunity came sooner than he expected. At the Human Auction House, Kidd had initially come for the spectacle, expecting to see the usual array of unfortunate souls. But when his eyes landed on you, standing on stage next to a mermaid, his world shifted. Your outfit, meant to highlight you as a prize, did nothing to disguise the raw strength and spirit radiating from you. His gaze lingered on the bruises marring your skin—evidence of your fight and resistance. The sight stirred something primal in him, a mix of anger and fierce protectiveness. The thought of you being paraded around like a trophy, shackled and vulnerable, ignited a burning desire within him.

When the auction began and you removed your chains, Kidd watched in awe as you fought back with a small blade, taking down Disco with precision and grit. The way you moved, the fire in your eyes, it was more than just talk and bravado. It was action, power, and defiance, and Kidd found himself captivated. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of admiration and a fierce, possessive urge.

When the cook from your crew, Sanji, rushed onto the stage to free you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close, Kidd’s initial reaction was a surge of rage and jealousy. He watched, fists clenched, as the scene unfolded. But when you were pushed towards Kidd, his control was tested. The closeness, the heat of your body against his—it took everything in him to restrain his instincts.

As you stumbled towards him, Kidd’s eyes darkened with a hunger that went beyond mere attraction. The sight of your disheveled state, the way you clung to Sanji and then to him, stoked a fierce, carnal desire within him. His mind was consumed with thoughts of claiming you, of feeling your body pressed against his in a way that spoke of raw, unfiltered need.

In a moment of primal intensity, Kidd’s gaze locked onto you as he leaned in, his tongue grazing your delicate skin. The touch was deliberate, teasing, and when you let out an involuntary moan, it fueled his desires even further. The soft, warm skin beneath his lips was intoxicating, each tremor of your body sending waves of pleasure through him. The warmth of your breath, the softness of your flesh, the vulnerability of your position—all combined to create a heady mix of lust and longing.

Kidd’s control was slipping, his thoughts dark and obsessive. He imagined pulling you close, feeling every curve of your body pressed against his, his hands roaming with a possessive grip. The thought of claiming you, of making you his in every sense, consumed him. He wanted to feel your skin against his, to taste every inch of you, and to dominate you in a way that left no room for doubt.

The fire in your eyes had ignited a blaze in his heart, one that burned with a fierce, unrestrained passion. In that moment, Kidd knew he would stop at nothing to possess you, not just as a trophy but as a partner in his most intimate desires. The need to have you, to make you his, was now an all-encompassing obsession.

Back to the present…

Kidd’s smirk widened as he recalled that moment, his gaze faraway yet intense. "She’s mine, Killer. She just doesn’t know it yet."

Killer, arms crossed and eyes hidden behind his mask, shifted his stance. The air between them was charged with unspoken tension. "You’re not the only one who sees her worth, Kidd. But if you think I’m just going to step aside, you’re mistaken. I’m just as determined to make her mine."

Kidd’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of challenge in his gaze. His voice dropped to a low, dangerous whisper. "Then it looks like we’ve got ourselves a little competition, don’t we?"

Killer’s tone was equally resolute, though his masked face revealed nothing. "Looks like it."

The two men stood in a silent stand-off, the weight of their rivalry hanging heavily in the air. Each knew the stakes of this competition were high, but neither was willing to concede. Y/N had become the center of a storm—a storm driven by the fierce desires of two of the New World’s most formidable pirates.

Kidd’s smirk remained, a dangerous promise of what was to come. "Let’s see who she chooses, then."

Killer’s eyes, though hidden, seemed to bore into Kidd with equal intensity. "Indeed. May the best man win."

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, the rivalry between the two men palpable. As they stood their ground, the realization set in that Y/N was about to become the focal point of their ruthless competition. Neither would relent, and both were prepared to do whatever it took to claim her, making their contest a matter of both pride and possession.

.

.

.

..Finally! Now, both Sanji and Y/N will start their training! Sanji’s flashback moment, my heart!!! had to add law, kidd, and killer back. I just love them. Also it adds to the plot lmfaooo. For the next chapter I will be bringing the crew back as the 2 years have finally arrived. We head back to Sabaody. There's going to be flashback scenes here. Along with a few guests coming in. I think for chapter 9-10 I will skip fishman island and add a few key notes for our beloved crew as well as a key moment that will shift both Sanji and Y/N. You guys don't want to miss this, cause we will be heading to punk hazard. Thank you guys for liking as well as following the blogs! Thank you for reblogging!. Chapter 8 is being worked on now as we speak!

[bettyfrommars]

Death Becomes Us

Part 5: The Baptism vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader

Summary: You venture into the Upside Down for the first time ever to go to a vampire bar called Sacrament, owned by an older vampire named Jareth (inspired by Jamie Campbell Bower & Eric Northman of True Blood), and end up being recognized by one of the employees. Hints to your past are revealed, and you end up with a new protector. wc: 6.8k

18+Only, mature content, vampire sex, vampire orgy,mention of being covered in blood, mention of someone dying in a car accident, mention of a dead body in a morgue, demobats, wielding a knife, visions of sex, vampire!Eddie.

Masterlist

A/N: A few things to keep in mind while you (hopefully) enjoy this chapter: the Upside Down is a place, but does not exist in the same way as in the show. Eddie's vampire origin story is different than the kas!Eddie origin story. All of the ST characters in this story are not acquainted in the same way they were in the show.

pls no minors beyond this point

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Part 5: The Baptism

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“Seatbelt?”

Windows open, music blaring, Eddie shifted gear on the GTO and motioned for you to strap in. You noticed that he wasn’t wearing his, but then again he had the immortality thing on his side.

“Mind telling me exactly where we are going?” You asked, clipping your lap belt and adjusting the strap.

“I told you,” Eddie cleared his throat. “A vampire bar.”

“But, I work at a vampire bar,” you added. “It’s not exactly new to me.”

Eddie barked a laugh, clamping his hand way up high on he steering wheel. “Those geeks who go to Main Vein are babies, they are all fairly new to the life. No self-respecting vampire with any real years under their belt would go in there.”

“So, you don’t have any self-respect, I assume?” You chided, being that Eddie had been a frequent flier at Main Vein.

Eddie shrugged. “I’m a baby vampire compared to most. I’m talking about vampires who were turned hundreds of years ago. Maybe even thousands in some cases,” he corrected.

A thought crossed your mind as you looked around at the polished and detailed interior of the vehicle you were in, eyeballing the guitar pick necklace dangling from the rear view mirror. “You’re not taking me somewhere in a stolen car, are you?”

Eddie licked his teeth. “Nah, Princess. This baby is all mine.”

The downtown area of Hawkins turned into suburban houses, and then opened up to a long highway flanked by thick forest as the muscle car zoomed along and you watched it all fly by from your window.

A corner of your brain flashed to a daydream just then. One where Eddie’s hand came over to grab your leg, squeezing it, and when you looked over, he’s licking his lips, eyes roaming your body. “Pull over,” you whisper to him, and he immediately obliges, peeling onto the side of the road, tires spitting up gravel, and whips it into park. Eager mouths meet in the middle, over the console, and his hand darts up to cup your breast and thumb your nipple over your shirt. You reach over to palm his erection, your pussy already throbbing and trickling between your legs. It isn’t long before you’re straddling his lap in the driver’s seat dry humping, bare breasts bouncing, begging him to bite you as his eyes go black.

“Did you hear what I said?” Eddie asked.

“No, I--” you swallowed to wet your dry mouth. “What was it?”

He rested the side of his hand on the dash to point in the direction of a green and white street arrow pointing down at a paved street that curved to the right. “It’s a little jarring at first if you’ve never been, but you’ll get used to it.”

Indeed, you’d never been to the Upside Down, but you had heard the stories, and forgot to exhale a breath stuck in your chest as Eddie fishtailed around the corner and a dust cloud enveloped the car. There loomed a big, white church with round windows and a large bell at the very top; it was enormous but also quaint, with flower baskets hanging from the porch and a well kept lawn. Up ahead, you could see a bridge; an old, covered wooden bridge at the end of a narrow, paved road, with a path leading directly to it, a crescent moon stamp in the dark blue sky.

“You ready?” Eddie asked, slowing down to hit the lip of the road with a bounce.

“Sure,” you replied, eyes ahead, getting closer to the bridge and further from the church.

You tried to fix your eyes when you realized the other end of the tunnel appeared to offer nothing but a pitch black void, and not a glimpse of the other side of the woods, as you would assume.

“What the---” you whispered the partial question to yourself just as the tires met the wobbly wood planks and you were under the shelter of the bridge, heading into a big, gaping nothing.

Eddie turned to get a glimpse of your face as you took in what it was like to go to the other side for the first time, and he tried not to smile, but lost the battle.

“Here we go, Princess,” Eddie mumbled, continuing to keep his foot on the gas without any aid of the break as the GTO met with the inky blackness.

Your our eyes closed reflexively at the way the car seemed to meet air and fall, gravity pulling it down, but only for a second or two before the wheels met with the ground again.

You opened your eyes to find that you were somehow on the same road, but it was also, very different. The grass on either side was dead and the dirt was dry; all of the surrounding trees were just bare limbs and jagged trunks jutting out of the earth. The sky was the color of a purple bruise, and you spotted a few large, odd-shaped birds soaring above.

“Demobats,” Eddie said on an exhale, following your line of sight, answering a question you hadn’t asked.

“Demobats.” You repeated the name as you watched a few loop lazily in the sky while Eddie followed the road and headed back toward the old church. “Do vampires turn into Demobats?”

“Damn, I wish,” Eddie snorted a laugh. “Now, that would be fun. But no, we don’t get to do any of the cool shapeshifting stuff of legends, and let me tell you, I felt robbed when I found that one out.”

Now, your focus was on the old church that you’d passed earlier, mouth slightly agape at the transformation. Matte black exterior instead of white, it loomed like bad news with bars over the round windows and a human skeleton hanging from the top rafters where the old bell used to be. Golden light filtered out from the double story building, and there was a large parking lot to the left filled with cars and motorcycles. A few enormous demobats perched along the roof; waiting and watching.

“The Demobats are a part of a hive mind, but they have free will,” Eddie continued filling you in on the set of Dracula that you had just landed in. “If a vampire bonds with one, the creature becomes a companion or protector.”

“Do you have one?” You asked right away, realizing you surely would’ve spotted a demobat hanging around the trailer park.

“Nah,” Eddie shrugged. “I’m not really a fan of them myself. Plus, it only works if you reside in the Upside Down, I think. Demobats don’t care much for humans.”

You were staring at the ones on the roof as they turned their heads to maintain eye contact with you. “That’s good to know,” you said under your breath.

The front door to the church opened as you passed it and you got a glimpse of the red light spilling out, and the crowd of bodies inside, loud music thumping in your chest.

Eddie waited for two tall, pale vampires with platinum hair in black trench coats to cross the parking lot in front of him before he continued in to park.

“Stay there,” he told you. You watched an abnormally tall and muscular, bald man with tattooed lines down his face get off the motorcycle a row ahead of you while Eddie came around to your door.

He opened it and extended his arm as if showcasing the parking lot. “Shall we?”

Although fascinated by this new peak into the odd world of vampires, the fact that this was not at all “on the way” to the trailer park made you a tad suspicious. What did vampire Eddie have planned for you?

The air was thick—humid without being warm or wet—and it smelled like burning firewood with a tang of metal. “Do you want to take my arm or hold my hand?” Eddie asked, running the tip of his tongue over his top lip, letting his eyes flick down your body. “It’s up to you, but we need to send a message that you are with me. It’s for your safety.”

“Arm is fine,” you swallowed, hooking your elbow with his, bare skin on the leather of his jacket. Behind the church was a dense thicket of forest, and the air looked like someone had just blown the fluffy bits off of a big dandelion. You palmed his bicep, feeling the bulge of muscle there, and he tucked your arm close, pinning it to his side.

From the few vampires you’d already seen in the parking lot and on the steps of the church, they were, indeed, physically much different than the vamps who occasionally popped into Main Vein. A group of guys rolled up on their motorcycles; long hair, earrings, bone jewelry, dressed in all black.

“I think that’s a human,” you noted, whispering to Eddie as you spotted the guy who worked in the produce section of the grocery story you frequented.

“Humans are welcome here, “ Eddie shrugged. “But it’s a huge risk because most of the vampires around these parts don’t follow Mainstreaming rules, they don’t like the peace pact that was made with Hawkins. They’d like it to go back the way it was: all of just hiding down here and coming out to feed in the shadows of night like feral animals.”

He squared his shoulders and stretched his neck as you both made it up the stairs. You passed a huddled group of three vampire women in latex outfits sprawled on the steps who seemed to hiss at you as you walked by.

There was a short line to get in the door, and a tall, dominatrix looking woman in a leather bustier with red hair and knee high stiletto boots was checking ID’s and apparently getting a read on people. You noticed her eyeball you a few times as you waited, zipped close to Eddie’s side.

She framed her hips with her hands and took an intimidating step toward Eddie; the two sized each other up with a serious lock of their eyes, but you noticed Eddie had a small smirk lifting up one side of his mouth.

“Edward,” she arched an eyebrow, the extremity of her heels making her just as tall as him.

“Maxine,” Eddie returned. You were so transfixed by the vampire woman in front of you, you barely noticed when Eddie slipped your arm down and took your hand in his. He squeezed it once, quietly reassuring you.

“Only Jareth calls me Maxine, you know this,” and then all of her attention went to you. “You can call me Max,” she said, looking you over from head to foot.

“She’s with me,” Eddie told her.

“I can see that,” Max inclined her head. “Welcome to Sacrament. What brings the two of you to our little corner of hell this evening?”

“She’s never been to a real vampire bar,” Eddie pumped his hand on yours again; it was smooth and cool, dotted in rough callouses. “Or to the Upside Down, for that matter.”

“A virgin, how sweet,” Max cooed sarcastically. “So, what is this? A date?”

“No!” You said it so fast, it made Max chuckle.

“Wait, what is that smell?” Max sniffed the air, got closer to you, and sniffed some more. She got so close, your noses were almost touching. “I can smell your blood, sweetheart, and damn does it make my mouth water.”

“Max—” Eddie warned.

“I know, I know,” she took a step back. “Okay fine, she’s yours. But I won’t be the only one who wants a taste, I hope you know.”

Eddie knew from the moment he met you that you were special. Not just because of the cotton candy electricity in your blood, but also the way you’d looked at him with those white eyes that first night out between the two trailers. You were human, but you were also something else, and he intended to find out what.

Max stepped back, allowing the two of you to continue on through the main door. Inside, the lighting was dim; all deep red and tangerine hues. From large speakers in the back, the song ‘In darkness you will feel alright’ by Horror Vacui filled the air. A long bar to the right, a few chairs and tables scattered around the middle of the room, and then a large dance floor where vampires writhed, some dancing at lightning speed, as if you were watching a video being fast-forwarded. There were two platforms on either side of the floor where dancers worked their bodies on a pole, slithering and spreading their legs wide. At the far back was a stage of some sort, and you could see a drum kit and a microphone.

You slipped your hand free of Eddie grasp, and he let you, but he stayed close; close enough that his arm was always brushing yours. “Drink?” He asked, shouting a bit over the music.

At the bar, you surprised Eddie by ordering straight whiskey, and then he ordered one of the synthetic blood substitutes called NuBlood. The vampire bartender stared at you with blank eyes for a long time as Eddie made the introductions; his name was Craven and he had long, black hair and a wash of dark tattoos over his chest and arms, exposed under the leather vest he wore.

“I see you brought a snack,” Craven flicked his eyes to you as he handed over the drinks. Vampires had the ability to retract their fangs, but Craven’s were out and long, cutting down into his bottom lip

“If that’s what you’d like to call it,” Eddie gave Craven a final nod and palmed both of the tumblers, determined to carry yours as well, and you followed him to a table.

Taking a sip of your whiskey, you chanced a longer look at Eddie. He had one elbow hooked behind the back of the chair, neck muscles tight as he grazed his full bottom lip with his teeth thoughtfully, his stare fixed somewhere in the distance. But then he looked at you and you lost your nerve, dropping your chin, lowering your glass.

You noticed a middle-aged man dress like an accountant in the middle of the dance floor grinding with one of the male vampires. The accountant had two sets of fang marks on his neck and the two seemed like they knew each other intimately.

“That’s a Fang Banger,” Eddie apparently knew exactly where your attention had gone, and now you were both trying to watch without making it obvious.

You’d heard the term before, but always had your questions to what exactly it meant.

Eddie continued. “Most of the humans who come here like to have sex with vampires and let them drink their blood,” he worked his jaw as he turned the glass in his hand. “And then of course there are humans who like to ingest vampire blood for it’s euphoric highs and healing benefits.”

You turned to face him. “Am I a Fang...Banger now that I drank your blood?”

“Not technically,” Eddie smirked, but shyly, gaze landing on his glass. “But if you’re interested I think I know a guy.”

For some reason, that little flirtatious moment gave you butterflies and you bit your lip, turning your attention back to the dancers on the floor.

“Didn’t you say you had to come here for work?” You were flustered to change the subject.

“I need to pick something up from a guy here,” he answered, ever so vaguely. “Finish these drinks first and then I’ll deal with it.”

That was when you saw him. Or, he saw you---you weren’t sure which happened first.

On the back stage, there suddenly stood a tall, blonde vampire with hair to his shoulders, slicked back from his face. His features were beautiful; perfect almost to the point of being surreal. Black shirt unbuttoned down to his navel, leather pants, fingers and wrists adorned in jewelry, and lips that were almost ruby red against his pale skin.

Max was on stage too, right next to him, talking as she continued to glance in your direction.

The tall blonde vampire’s gaze never strayed from you as he took in whatever information Max was giving him with a tilt of his head.

“Who is that guy on stage that keeps staring over here?” You tried not to look too obvious, leaning closer to Eddie.

Eddie grumbled. “That’s Jareth. This is his club.”

The vampire named Jareth had a very ancient, even otherworldly look about him. Confidence literally oozed from his perfect posture.

It wasn’t long before Jareth and Max were exiting the stage, and parting the crowd, headed in your direction. More like, the crowd parted for them; they were all in awe of his presence.

‘Aw shit, here we go,” Eddie said under his breath, fingering the rim of his glass.

“Well, well, well,” Jareth said with a velvet voice. He kept his arms to his side, and Max had hers folded across her chest. “What do we have here?” He had the lilt of an accent; British, perhaps?

With an air of reluctance, Eddie introduced you, and you followed his lead, getting to your feet, so that the two men would be eye to eye.

Jareth made his way around to your side of the table, sinking in as close as he could without breaching your personal bubble, and took your hand. “The pleasure is all mine,” he told you, bringing the back of your hand up to brush his lips against your knuckles, maintaining eye contact with you. His eyes were so blue, they were almost purple. You didn’t have to glance over to notice the way Eddie stiffened.

“You’re right, Max,” Jareth cooed. “She does smell good enough to eat.”

Eddie moved up closer to you, body flush against your arm. When Jareth finally released your hand, you turned to check in on Eddie, not realizing his mouth would be mere inches from your face, his hand snaking around the back of your hip.

“This is her first time,” Max reported with an air of amusement on her face.

“I’m glad we could be your first,” a smile warmed across Jareth’s face to show that his teeth were perfectly beautiful and white. “You’re just in time for The Baptism.”

You couldn’t have been more confused.

“That is,” Jareth continued, inclining his head at Eddie. “If it’s alright with your babysitter.”

“Only vampires can receive the Baptism,” Max added, smugly. “But you’re welcome to watch, sweetheart.”

In a flash, Jareth was face to face with you, right in your bubble this time, and you flinched a bit as his hand came up to cup your jaw, smoothing his thumb along the scar on your cheek. In a dreamy voice he said: “I do so love a girl who looks like she has stories to tell.”

Eddie seemed to be playing along for the sake of appearances, but you could hear him growl in reaction to the unwanted touch; you could feel it vibrating in his chest. You got the idea that Jareth knew exactly what he was doing by the way he winked at Eddie.

“You go with Max,” Jareth told you. “While Eddie and I finish up some business in my office.”

You gave Eddie a tentative look over your shoulder, wondering if this was a bad idea.

“I promise no harm will come to your little pet,” Max’s voice dripped with boredom and sarcasm. “And I won’t even take a nibble.”

You stayed close to Max, making your way through the sweaty crowd on the dance floor, checking over your shoulder only once to find that Eddie and Jareth were already nowhere to be found. Max’s shiny latex corset laced up with ribbon in the back, and on the exposed skin above was the top of some sort of large tattoo; it almost looked religious in nature like a Mother Mary motif. She led you down a wide stairway lit with red bulbs from above and the walls were painted black. You heard more music thudding below; you could even feel it in your feet.

“Watch your step,” Max warned as you took the final stair in to a hallway that was so dark you had to squint. Then there was another windowless door made of heavy metal, and it was guarded by that scary vampire with the bald head that you’d noticed in the parking lot.

He immediately stood up, flustered at Max’s presence.

Max patted his arm. “We’re just here to watch, Ronnie,” she told him, and he only glanced at you briefly before opening the airtight door with a loud clack and stepping out of the way.

Once you crossed the threshold, you’d be permanently separated from Eddie, and locked behind a bulletproof door. You only had a second to consider this before it clicked shut behind you.

In front of you now was a large room with a DJ spinning music inside a plexiglass box at the far end. The group of vampires who were already there were all too lost in their own world to notice or even care that someone had just come in. You continued to follow Max as you took in the fact that there were yoga mats and shower drains lined up along the floor.

“In here, sweet cheeks,” Max guided, opening another door and flicking a light on. The light was another deep red crimson color, so not much light at all, but you could see that there were three tiers that went up in elevation, and a row of chairs along each level, all facing a large picture window; the window faced the spacious room with the drains on the floor and the yoga mats.

She told you to take a seat, and you found one in the first row, lowering yourself into it with a noted level of hesitancy. In the seat next to you, Max patted your thigh. “It’s a guilty pleasure of mine to expose virgin eyes to the Baptism. I know you’ll love it.”

Again, you couldn’t tell if Max was being serious, or if she was still being flippantly sarcastic.

Over the speakers, an electronic female voice announced “2 minutes until The Baptism” and it was then you heard the rush of footsteps upstairs; vampires coming down to be a part of...whatever this was. The DJ behind the protected enclosure had green and black hair as the dark, pulsing music played, and a bit of fear hitched in your chest, mouth dropping open at the way the bodies flooded in through the doors. They were making out with each other and swarming in one large mass.

The energy down there was different than above. There was something more primal and… hungry. Perhaps a side of these monsters that they didn’t want to or couldn't let other humans see. You were too focused on the scene in front of you to notice the way Max kept glancing over, deeply amused by you.

The feminine, electronic voice began to countdown the seconds from 10, as the vampires danced and undressed each other, eyes black and fangs out. One of the women you recognized from the from steps earlier seemed to be looking directly at you, sneering, licking her pointed teeth, her short black hair spiky around her face.

“We can see them, but they can’t see us,” Max offered.

3...2...1

Your eyes followed the sound of the click: shower heads popped out from the ceiling. The mass of vampires tilted their heads back and opened their mouths, and then a red liquid you assumed was blood shot out of the sprinkler heads like water, raining down on everyone there, soaking them.

That was when the debauchery really started, and you realized what the yoga mats were for.

The blood shower worked them into a frenzy and they began to lick it off of each other, undressing each other as cocks and breasts were exposed, everyone reaching out to fondle their neighbor with unbridled enthusiasm. Some fell to their knees to orally please, and others were flat on the ground, a puzzle of fucked holes and faces, drinking the blood as they also used it for lubrication. Vampires had no fear of contracting STD’s or getting pregnant, so reasoned that it was all fair game. One of the vampires with long hair, wearing an enormous, lifelike, strap-on dildo, flicked her head back and a splash of blood flecked the window in front of you. A few continued to dance around, lost in the music and you had to look away from the fornication, bashful suddenly, but Max found your eyes.

“Have you ever done this?” You asked her. She was poised in her seat, legs crossed and fingers laced over her knee.

“No, never,” she admitted, to your surprise. “But I do so love to watch.”

While two naked vampires fucked doggy style on the floor right in front of your eyes, and the one on their hands and knees sucked another vampire off, you wondered if Eddie had ever done this. You wondered what it would feel like to see him standing out there, watching you, beckoning to you, while naked and covered in blood. The part of you that had ingested his crimson gift whispered that you would let him split you open right there in front of everyone, begging for his fangs sink into your throat.

It took all of your strength not to run into Eddie’s arms when you finally made it back up the stairs with Max. There were only 10 or 15 people on the main floor at that point, most of them human familiars, as the rest of the clientele were still downstairs breeding. The sprinklers were only on for five minutes or so, but it was enough to drench all of them as they fucked each other with insatiable hunger.

Eddie pushed off the bar when he saw you, eyes lighting up with wholesome relief.

“How was it?” He asked, taking note that Max was close behind you.

“Traumatizing,” you answered, even though a part of you had enjoyed it, but that was a part of you he didn’t need to know about.

“It was a pleasure to take your girlfriend’s Baptism virginity,” Max batted her eyes a few times.

Simultaneously, you and Eddie both:

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.”

“Whatever you say,” Max goaded, hands on her hips, waiting to see you both out. Craven was not too far behind her, both hands braced on the bar, staring you down with an intensity that seemed unnecessary at the time.

Eddie extended the crook of his elbow to you. “Let’s get you home.”

----------

“I know that girl,” Craven told Max once you and Eddie were long gone.

Max tilted her chin up, regarding him down the end of her nose. “I’m listening.”

“I read about her in an Unsolved Mysteries forum I belong to, it was a really odd story,” he wiped his hands on a towel as he talked. “At least, I’m pretty sure it’s her. That scar on her cheek, it’s unmistakable.”

Max gave a roll of her eyes. “Spit. It. Out. Craven. For fucks sake, I’m rotting internally over here.”

Jareth walked up beside Max, standing close, working his jaw.

Craven leaned forward, resting on his elbows. “There’s more than one story about her, both equally strange. First, supposedly, she was in a car accident, dead by the time the paramedics got there,” he paused for a beat.

Jareth looked out the bars of the front window just in time to see the taillights of Eddie’s GTO glow bright in the distance, on his way back to the crossing.

Craven spread his fingers on the bar as he explained, his face dire. “But, her body was stolen from the morgue, and it was never found.”

Max and Jareth exchanged a look. “So, she’s a ghoul? A zombie? What? I didn’t see any rotting flesh,” Max pushed. “She smells too good to be dead.”

Craven held his hand up. “Okay, but get this---apparently her grandfather ran a funeral home, and she lived there with her dad in the same house with all of the coffins and the embalming and whatnot. The rumors were that her dad, Dr. Wesley, was a complete nut job. He was some kind of genius, flew through medical school, became a surgeon.”

Max took a few steps closer, balancing her hip on one of the stools.

“But then his wife found out she had cancer and passed away 6 months later, when Eddie’s girl was just a teenager. After her mom died, her dad went off the rails. Became a real reclusive mad scientist, had some kind of laboratory in the basement where he brought road kill back to life and returned them to the woods.”

“That brings us back to her being in that car accident and disappearing from the morgue,” he paused for dramatic effect. “In the forum I belong to, a bunch of people suspected that he brought her back to life somehow, because---now listen to this---when he died a year after that, several witnesses said they saw her standing on the porch, clear as day.”

Max rolled her eyes. “If you’re fucking with us, I’m going to be very upset.”

Craven put his palms out as a sign of surrender. “Not fucking with you at all. But, I haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”

Jareth smoothed back his hair, waiting.

“In his will, Dr. Wesley left the house and all of his belongings to a woman by the name of “Dove”, and everything monetarily was handled through a third party. That was just a few months ago.” He took a sip of NuBlood and rolled his neck. “Jump ahead to a few weeks ago and, did you hear about that bus that got t-boned and then flipped over onto the train tracks, pinning all those kids inside?”

Max shook her head, but Jareth nodded slowly, eyes narrowing with his full attention, nostrils flaring slightly.

“And how somehow, miraculously, the bus was pushed off the tracks and out of danger just before the train came? And then the bus was flipped back onto it’s tires so that the kids could get out? Well, about ten of the kids described our new friend to a T, right down to that cheek scar.”

“Of course, no one believed the kids,” Craven shrugged. “And it wasn’t a vampire because it was still daylight out. But those of us who’ve been following this story think she’s reanimated, like Frankenstein’s monster, and somehow it gave her superhuman strength.”

“This is a stupid story,” Jareth intoned. “Of course this is all rubbish. Myth, legend, a ghost story for children.”

Max looked over at the door, as if you might be standing there.

“You mean, like vampires?” Craven offered with a lift of his eyebrow.

Max squinted, remembering how uneasy you had been earlier. “She doesn’t seem very strong to me.”

Craven brought a beer to a human at the end of the bar, and then continued when he came back. “We don’t think she understands her strength. I personally believe it has something to do with lightning. There was a lightning storm the night she died, and there was also lightning the day of the bus crash.”

“What would lightning have to do with it?” Max asked. Her curiosity was piqued, but she didn’t want to seem too eager. “That makes it sound so dramatic.”

“I have no clue,” Craven shrugged. “Maybe the electricity in the air makes her powers stronger, maybe she becomes some kind of lightning rod? I’m not sure, but I would like to find out.”

“She does smell different,” Max mused.

“There are people looking for her. Bad people,” Craven added.

“What kind of bad people?” Jareth smirked. “Certainly not worse than this lot.”

Craven wiped the bar with his rag. “People who think they know what she is, and want to study her. To harness a way to give humans insane strength without turning them into vampires? She’s not in Hawkins because it’s such a great town,” he snorted. “I think she’s trying to hide in plain sight. No one would think to look for her in a place like that.”

Max flicked her attention from Jareth to Craven. “Do you think Eddie knows? About her?”

Craven licked one of his fangs. “He has been known to do freelance bounty hunter work. I wouldn’t put it passed him. Maybe someone is paying him to be her watchdog until they can know for sure.”

“Interesting,” Max smoothed her lips. “I wonder if there’s some kind of reward out for her?”

“I can find out,” Craven wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.

“You two fiends will stay away from her,” Jareth spoke up, eyeballing both of them. “Until I figure out exactly what it is we’re dealing with.”

“Oh shit,” Max flashed an uncertain grin. “You’ve got a thing for little miss monster mash.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jareth frowned.

--------

On the way out of Sacrament in the GTO, rounding the corner along the sparse forest that would head you back toward the bridge, you and Eddie were painfully quiet. There was the soft hum of At Night by The Cure coming from the orange and green lights of the stereo, and you absently noticed a few demobats swooping down close.

The images from the Baptism were still flashing every time you blinked, and so you rested your head on your fist and kept your eyes open until they dried out.

“Thank you,” Eddie cleared his throat. “For, being cool about all of that tonight.”

He really hadn’t given you a choice. “Um, you’re welcome.”

Internally, Eddie was kicking himself for ever taking you to Sacrament, or the Upside Down in general. He should’ve known Jareth and Max would notice there was something different about you and take an invested interest. Jareth was a much older, stronger vampire, but Eddie wouldn’t let him get close to you without putting up a fight.

“Did you take care of whatever business you came to do?” You wondered allowed, assuming that he made some clandestine exchange with Jareth.

Eddie sighed. “Yep. It’s all good.”

You were about to be nosey and ask exactly what it was he went there to do, when something banged into the grille of the car, making Eddie curse and swerve, slamming the breaks on before the GTO careened into the dead forest.

“Fucking bats,” Eddie hissed, throwing the car into park with a grunt.

The erratic swerve made your adrenaline surge and sent a wave of heat over your flesh. Dust pooled up around the windows and you struggled to see what was out there in the misty, purple gloom. Out in the middle of the street, in the glow of one of the GTO headlights, face down and wings wide, tendrils spread out, was one of those big, spooky demobats you’d seen perched on the eaves of the church.

You noticed it’s wing twitch, and one of the octopus tendrils curled up slowly as if it was trying to move but couldn’t. It didn’t matter what kind of horrifying, killer beast this was---you hated to see any animal suffer and, before you knew it, your hand was on the door handle, cranking it open.

“Wait!” Eddie gripped your arm. With the door open a crack, you snapped a look at him over your shoulder. Eddie checked up through the front window to see if there were any more demobats close by. “What are you doing? Those things are dangerous.”

“It’s hurt, Eddie,” there was an unmistakable determination in your eyes. “I just want to move it out of the street. Maybe its just stunned.”

Eddie’s stare got hard. “That thing out there will eat your face off and not think twice about it.”

Eyes locked on each other, the both of you realized at the same time that your lips were close, noses only mere inches from touching. Eddie’s eyes flicked to your lips, and then back up again, taking in a sharp sip of air.

Be it the bleeding heart you’d inherited from your mother who was always taking in stray pets to nurture and raise as her own, or from watching your father try to save and resurrect every bit of road kill he stumbled across in that last decade of his life, but you couldn’t let it lay out there vulnerable and in pain. Eddie recognized this determination in your countenance, and released your arm.

On a frustrated exhale, he reached across your legs to open the glove box. “Just wait for me, okay?”

He pulled out a butterfly knife, flipping it open with a few deft flicks of his wrist.

“What’s that for?”

He made a stabbing gesture. “If it’s mortally wounded, I’ll have to put it out of it’s misery.”

You stepped out of the vehicle, waiting for Eddie to come around the front of the car and meet you there.

The demobat lifted another tentacle, making a shrill, squealing noise, and then went still again.

“We can’t take it home with us,” Eddie warned. “That is out of the question.”

You had no idea what you were doing. It was face down, but you knew the thing had a mouth of teeth and they seemed incredibly strong and fast.

“Just help me...move it off the road so it doesn’t get squished by another car.”

Eddie did not like this. This thing wasn’t a kitten or a turtle; it was more of the crocodile/shark variety with no real motivations outside of killing.

You knelt down next to it, Eddie positioned above you with the knife, ready to execute if it reared up and tried to bite you. The thing made a little, sad mew noise, and it compelled you to make the nurturing choice to run your fingers along the spine of its wing to comfort it.

“Shhhh,” you coaxed. “You’re going to be okay. We’re not going to hurt you.”

The demobat jerked at your touch, but was still too stunned to do any more than that.

“Okay, you grab one wing and I’ll grab the other---” but just as you said it, one of the slimy, jellyfish tentacles wrapped softly around your wrist.

Eddie bolted forward, thinking maybe he’d need to cut the fucker off, but you stopped him with your other hand. The tentacle gave you a little squeeze before slipping loose again, falling to the pavement with a smack.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Eddie huffed. You both pinched a fleshy wing at both ends and were just about to lift up when the demobat screeched louder than ever, flapping free of your grasp and up into the air.

It spun around mid-flight and shrieked like a siren, exposing the jagged teeth in its gapping maw, dripping with tendrils of saliva. The demobat did not look happy.

Eddie dove in front of you, his eyes black and his fangs out, ready for battle, but the bat only screeched again, this time with less heat, and turned to hobble away; one wing not working as well as the other.

Your shoulders sank and your forehead fell to Eddie’s arm, sighing with relief.

“Yeah,” Eddie watched the thing go as it flew low to the ground for a while before scooting higher up in the sky. “Please don’t ever do that again,” he mumbled to you around the fullness of his ejected fangs. He didn’t move though, because now your cheek was resting on his arm and your hand was on his lower back, and he wanted to turn and kiss you so bad. But then you moved and the moment was over.

Back in the car, as Eddie stuffed in behind the wheel, you clicked your seat belt on and said, “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“That makes two of us,” he returned, checking the sky for more low-flying creatures before he got back on the road.

Exiting the Upside Down through the old, covered bridge gave you a deep sense of relief. For the first time, you couldn’t wait to get back to your shitty trailer and your wholly ordinary life. Maybe you weren’t ordinary, but you really wanted to be, and the people and places of Hawkins were helping you to embrace that title more and more every second.

The two of you did not return to Hawkins alone.

Your secret companon flew low behind the GTO in the bridge, and then coasted high above in the sky once it was free from the Upside Down, reveling in the cool night air that did not burn her throat. The demobat you’d helped in the road kept pace with the roof of car as a shadow, following out of sight, and darting in through the trees when necessary.

She was your demobat now, and she wanted to keep you safe.

-----

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 5

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character

Author’s note: Enjoy lots of good ole’ fluff + emo Bruce falling head over heels for Marie.

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting

Chapter List

The Gotham skyline stretched out like a sprawling maze of steel and shadows. Batman stood on a rooftop, his cape flowing in the crisp night air, his gaze fixed on the city below. The search for leads on the Red Lotus case had turned cold, leaving him restless. The recent confrontation with Marie had left an awkward tension between them that they hadn’t addressed.

Marie, meanwhile, stood beside the bat-signal, her breath misting in the chill as she stared at the beacon’s light. Despite their recent clash, she knew she needed Batman tonight. Her shift in focus had led her to a new line of inquiry, and the Iceberg Lounge was the epicenter of tonight's investigation.

It was a seedy place, notorious for its dangerous clientele, and it was the kind of place that was unforgiving to anyone, let alone a cop. She had learned her lesson from her previous misadventure, and she wasn't about to walk into another trap unprepared.

A shadow detached itself from the darkness and landed beside her. Batman’s imposing figure was outlined against the city lights as he approached. Marie turned to him, trying to hide the nerves she felt.

“Thanks for coming,” Marie said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of apprehension. “I’m heading into the Iceberg Lounge. I’m looking for Oswald Cobblepot. This place isn’t exactly friendly to cops, so I could use some backup.”

Batman’s gaze, obscured by the cowl, bore into her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You need my help?”

Marie’s lips curved into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’m hoping to avoid another lecture. Remember last time?”

A ghost of a smile touched Batman’s lips, a rare, almost imperceptible hint of amusement. “I’ll do my best to keep my comments to myself.”

Marie’s eyebrow arched, her tone light but tinged with underlying tension. “All business tonight, huh?”

Batman’s voice was a low, rumbling growl. “If it means keeping you safe, then yes.”

Marie’s gaze softened, her eyes lingering on him as he stood next to the bat-signal. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Let’s hope tonight doesn’t turn into another mess.”

Batman nodded, his expression unreadable. “I’ll find a spot near the building to keep an eye on you. Use the earpiece if you need anything.” He said, tossing her a small piece of hardware.

With that, Batman melded back into the shadows, his form disappearing as he moved swiftly and silently across the rooftops. Marie watched him go, feeling the weight of their recent tension but also a flicker of reassurance.

Marie turned and made her way down the stairwell to the street. The chill of the night air hit her as she emerged, and she headed towards the Iceberg Lounge. The nightclub’s entrance loomed ahead, its heavy, ornate doors hinting at the chaos within.

As she approached, Marie’s attention was drawn to a group of shady figures lurking near the alleyway. Their eyes followed her with an unsettling intensity. Marie’s hand instinctively reached for her weapon as she passed the entrance.

"Be careful, looks like you're not alone out there." Batman's voice rang through the earpiece. Marie looked out into the darkness of the night, briefly nodding in response.

Inside, the Iceberg Lounge was a labyrinth of dim lighting and smoky haze. Marie’s gaze swept over the crowd, searching for Cobblepot. The music was loud, and the atmosphere was tense, with patrons watching her every move.

Marie finally spotted Oswald Cobblepot in a private booth, engaged in a heated conversation with two men. She approached cautiously, her heart pounding with a blend of anticipation and apprehension.

“Mr. Cobblepot,” she said loudly over the music, “I’m Detective Marie Manning. I need to speak with you about some recent investigations.”

Cobblepot looked up, his beady eyes assessing her with disdain. “A cop, huh? You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve showing up here.”

Marie’s tone was resolute. “I’m here for information. I know you’ve got answers about Falcone. This isn’t a negotiation.”

Cobblepot’s sneer widened, but he motioned for her to come closer. “Fine. Let’s talk. But not here. Too many ears.”

Marie followed Oswald Cobblepot to a more secluded area of the Iceberg Lounge, noticing his walk that looked more like a waddle. The dimly lit corner offered a modicum of privacy, though the lounge’s usual raucous atmosphere still hummed in the background. Marie cast a wary glance around, then focused on Cobblepot.

“Mr. Cobblepot,” she began, her tone firm yet measured, “I need to talk to you about the Red Lotus murders. I believe you might have some information that could help with the investigation.”

Cobblepot's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing with interest. “The Red Lotus, huh? That’s quite a mess. You think I’d be involved in something like that?”

Marie’s gaze was steady. “I’m not accusing you. I just need to know if you’ve heard anything—anything at all—that could point me in the right direction.”

Cobblepot chuckled darkly, his fingers drumming on the table. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely... I have heard whispers. There’s a certain element in Gotham that’s been trying to leverage the chaos caused by the Red Lotus murders. Some say they’re using it to cover their tracks or settle old scores.”

Marie’s eyes sharpened. “Who are they?”

Cobblepot leaned in, lowering his voice. “The whispers mention someone who’s been moving in and out of the city’s underbelly. They say this person has connections with some very powerful players. But who exactly? That’s the million-dollar question. I might be able to dig up more details if you’re willing to scratch my back a bit.”

Before Marie could respond, a loud crash erupted from the entrance of the lounge. The front door flew open, and a group of masked men burst in, their weapons gleaming under the neon lights. The patrons screamed and scrambled for cover, the room erupting into chaos.

Marie instinctively reached for her weapon, her heart racing as she took in the situation. Cobblepot’s face went pale, and he ducked behind the table, clearly terrified.

“Batman,” Marie said into her earpiece, her voice tight with urgency. “We’ve got an armed group attacking the lounge.”

Batman’s voice crackled through the earpiece, calm and commanding. “On my way. Stay safe and get out if it gets too dangerous.”

Marie quickly assessed the scene. The masked men were advancing with purpose, brandishing weapons and shouting orders. They seemed intent on clearing out the space.

She fought her way towards the nearest masked attacker, her movements precise and practiced. Her mind raced as she tried to make sense of the situation. The lounge was a storm of flying debris, shouting patrons, and the smell of smoke.

Amidst the chaos, Batman made his dramatic entrance, his silhouette cutting through the melee with a swift, imposing presence. He immediately began to neutralize the attackers, his actions synchronized with Marie’s as they worked together to fend off the masked men.

“Stay back,” Batman growled as he shielded Marie from an incoming attack, his eyes darting between her and an oncoming masked attacker. 

Relying on her kickboxing skills, Marie managed to subdue one of the attackers. She glanced at Batman, who was now dispatching the last of the intruders. Cobblepot had vanished, his opportunity to escape amidst the chaos.

With the immediate threat dealt with, Batman turned to Marie, his voice laced with concern. “Are you alright?” His eyes scanned her up and down, looking for injuries.

Marie, breathing heavily, nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. But Cobblepot got away.”

“Then what are we waiting here for?” Batman asked, turning quickly and heading out the back of the club. Marie followed. 

Marie and Batman emerged from the Iceberg Lounge, their breath misting in the chilly night air. They scoured the nearby alley.

“Dammit, he’s gone,” Marie muttered, frustration evident in her voice. She scanned the long alley, but it was empty. “He’s slippery as hell.”

Batman’s gaze was intense, his voice low but firm. “He’s got to be hiding somewhere nearby. He’s not going to risk crossing Falcone.”

Marie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I bet he set up that raid to get rid of me.”

Batman glanced at her, his expression unreadable behind the mask. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Marie nodded, trying to keep her frustration in check. “So what now? Do we just wait around hoping he shows up?”

Batman’s jaw tightened. “There’s a good chance he’s got a hideout or safehouse nearby. Knowing Cobblepot, he won’t be able to stay out of trouble for long.”

Marie leaned against the wall, shaking her head. “I don’t want this case dragging on forever. There haven’t been any new murders recently, which means the case is that much closer to going cold.”

Batman stepped closer, his voice softening slightly. “I know. We’ll figure this out. Cobblepot’s not the only player in this game, but he’s a start.”

Marie looked at him, a mix of gratitude and exhaustion in her eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate you sticking by me tonight, especially with everything that went down.”

Batman’s gaze was steady, his voice a low rumble. “Seems like you learned your lesson from last time." He hesitated, then added quietly, almost to himself, “You’ve made the nights a bit more bearable.”

Marie hesitated, then asked, “You think we’ll still be working together after the Red Lotus case is over? I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

His voice was gentle. “I’d like that”

Marie managed a small smile, her tone light. “Alright, let’s head out. I’ve got a date later, and I refuse to be late.”

Batman’s eyes met hers, “A date?”

Marie raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Is it really that surprising that someone wants to date me?”

Batman’s expression shifted back to its usual intensity. "No, just didn't expect it."

Marie shrugged playfully as she started walking towards the precinct. “Well, I’m full of surprises.”

She called over her shoulder, “I’ll bat-signal you if I need you.”

When she looked back, Batman had already vanished into the shadows, leaving the alley empty and silent.

—-------------------------------

Later that evening, Bruce Wayne and Marie enjoyed a quiet dinner at an upscale restaurant. The soft lighting and soothing music created a serene atmosphere, a welcome change from their usual intense interactions.

Marie and Bruce had been on several dates recently, each one drawing them closer. Tonight, they were relaxed and at ease, their conversation flowing effortlessly.

Marie leaned in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You wouldn’t believe the run-in I had with Oswald Cobblepot tonight,” she began, her tone animated. “It was something straight out of a crime novel.”

Bruce’s interest was immediately piqued. “Really? I’ve heard he’s quite the character."

Marie's expression became one of amused disbelief. “Oh, he’s every bit as eccentric as they say. I approached him about the Red Lotus case, and he was waddling around like a penguin—no joke. The resemblance is uncanny.”

Bruce leaned in, clearly captivated, even though he’d already known what happened. “And what did he do?”

Marie grinned, clearly enjoying recounting the encounter. “At first, he was all about playing it cool, acting like he was just a regular businessman. But the moment I mentioned the Red Lotus, his demeanor shifted. He got this calculating look in his eye. It was like he was deciding how much he could get away with telling me.”

Bruce’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What did he say?”

Marie’s smile widened as she remembered. “He dropped hints like he had some crucial info but played it super coy. It was like he was getting off on the power trip of making me chase him. Frustrating as hell, but kinda fascinating, too.”

Bruce nodded, clearly engrossed. “Sounds like a challenging encounter. I’m sure dealing with someone like Cobblepot requires a unique set of skills.”

“It does. Every day’s a new battle, but I love it. There’s something addictive about putting the pieces together and outsmarting the criminals.” Marie responded. I know exactly what you mean, Bruce thought.

Marie continued, her eyes meeting his. “It’s nice to be able to laugh about it now. I’m really glad we can unwind like this.”

Bruce’s gaze softened, a look of genuine admiration in his eyes. “I really am. It’s great to have a break from the noise and just enjoy a night out.”

As the evening went on, they chatted about everything, from old college memories to recent news, their laughter mixing with the gentle background music. It felt easy and natural, a welcome change from their usual high-stress interactions.

As they finished up their dinner, Bruce gave Marie a playful grin. “So, how about I show you around Wayne Manor?” he suggested. “Don’t worry, no fancy galas or over-the-top millionaires this time. Just me—if you can put up with me for a few more hours.”

“I’d love that.” Marie smiled.

The drive to Wayne Manor was peaceful, the city lights casting a soft glow on the darkened streets. When they arrived at the manor, Bruce led her inside, his demeanor gentle and inviting.

“This place,” Marie said, looking around at the grandeur of Wayne Manor, “it’s even more breathtaking when it’s empty. There’s something calming about it.”

Bruce nodded, his eyes reflecting a touch of nostalgia. “This place has always been a sanctuary for me,” he said softly. “As a child, it was alive with laughter and energy. Now it’s quieter, but it still holds so many memories.”

“Feel free to look around,” he added, though his mind was already drifting to the Batcave below, where he needed to check in to make sure Gotham was calm for the night.

"I'll be right back." Bruce said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

Marie moved through the rooms, her steps light and curious. She admired the grand architecture and the space, but one room particularly captivated her: a sitting room with floor-to-ceiling windows and oversized paintings. She stopped in front of a portrait of Bruce’s parents, their faces warm and kind. Bruce looked so much like his father.

As she stood there, lost in thought and unsure how much time had passed, she suddenly felt Bruce’s presence behind her. His hand gently caressed her lower back.

“They were lovely,” Marie said softly.

“They were,” Bruce replied, his voice low, “I think about them often.”

They stood together in a comfortable silence. After a moment, she spoke again. “You know, I love what I do because it’s a way to make a difference—so others don’t have to go through what we did as kids.”

Bruce took a moment before responding, his gaze softening. “I’m impressed by that. It’s rare to find someone who gets it the way you do.”

Marie looked up, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “You really think so?”

Bruce returned her smile, his eyes warm. “Definitely. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

As they stood in front of the painting, Marie leaned her head against Bruce’s chest, feeling a deep sense of contentment. The mansion’s tranquil atmosphere was a stark contrast to the bustling, noisy world they had navigated earlier.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Bruce murmured against her ear, his voice soft and sincere.

Marie lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes filled with warmth. “Me too. This place is incredible.”

He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against her cheeks. Marie’s breath caught in her throat, and before she could react, Bruce’s lips met hers in a tender, exploratory kiss. It was a soft, lingering touch that spoke volumes.

Marie responded instinctively, her hands reaching up to rest on Bruce’s shoulders. The kiss deepened, growing more passionate as the heat of their emotions took over. Bruce’s arms encircled her, pulling her closer. The outside world vanished, leaving just the two of them in this perfect, heated moment.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their faces flushed with the intensity of their emotions. Bruce’s eyes were filled with a mix of relief and longing. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted quietly.

Marie’s smile was radiant, her eyes reflecting a sense of joy and surprise. “I’m happy you did.”

Bruce chuckled softly, his gaze filled with affection.

Marie spoke up, “So, what’s next? Do we just stand here or...?”

Bruce’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “How about some ice cream? I’ve got a tub waiting in the kitchen.”

Marie’s eyes widened in playful excitement. “Ice cream sounds perfect.”

Grabbing her hand, Bruce excitedly led her to the large kitchen, where he retrieved a tub of ice cream from the freezer and grabbed two spoons. Marie perched herself on the counter, her legs swinging slightly as they dug into the ice cream.

Marie looked at him with a playful grin. “You know, I can practically feel this ice cream going straight to my hips.”

Bruce chuckled, leaning on his elbows over the counter beside her. “Your hips are magnificent.”

Marie laughed, playfully nudging him. “You’re just trying to flatter me to distract me from the extra calories.”

Bruce couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, his lips grazing hers in a tender kiss. Marie melted into the touch, the lingering sweetness of the ice cream mingling with the warmth of their embrace.

Their kisses grew deeper and more passionate, a perfect reflection of the emotions that had been building between them. Bruce’s hands gently traced the contours of Marie’s back, their connection intensifying as they lost themselves in each other. The ice cream tub sat forgotten, and began to melt as their attention shifted entirely to each other.

Just then, a soft rustling sound from outside the room interrupted their moment. Bruce’s eyes widened with a mix of surprise and amusement. He pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against Marie’s ear as he whispered with a playful grin, “That’s Alfred. My butler.”

Marie’s eyes widened in surprise, and she bit back a giggle. “Should we, um, move...?”

Before she could finish, the door to the kitchen creaked open. Alfred’s voice, filled with curiosity and mild surprise, floated into the room. “Master Bruce, I was just checking if you needed anything—oh!”

Alfred’s voice trailed off as he took in the sight before him: Bruce and Marie, entangled in each other’s arms with remnants of their ice cream adventure scattered around.

Bruce and Marie exchanged a sheepish glance. Bruce held up his ice cream spoon in a mock salute. “Just enjoying some late-night ice cream. Nothing to see here.”

Alfred’s expression softened into a knowing smile. “Ah, I see. Well, I hope you both are having a good time.”

Bruce turned to Marie, an affectionate smile on his face. “Alfred, this is my, uh, Marie,” he said, his tone uneven as he considered how to introduce her.

Alfred bowed his head slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Marie. I trust the ice cream is to your liking?”

“It’s delicious, Alfred, thank you,” Marie smiled.

As Alfred’s footsteps receded, Bruce turned back to Marie, his face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and affection. “Well, that was a bit of an interruption,” he said with a chuckle.

Marie’s cheeks flushed as she buried her head into Bruce’s chest.

Bruce’s smile widened as he rubbed his hand over her hair. “I promise there won’t be any more surprises.”

—-------------------------------

Marie was half-asleep in Bruce’s expansive, beautifully decorated living room. They were nestled on the grand sectional in front of the crackling fireplace, the warmth from the flames creating a cozy cocoon around them. Bruce’s strong arms were wrapped around her, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath her ear.

After hours of talking—sharing stories of their childhoods, their aspirations, and their fears—Marie’s voice was soft and drowsy. “Can I tell you something about my job that I’m not supposed to tell anyone?”

Bruce’s gaze was gentle as he looked down at her. “Of course.”

Marie shifted slightly, her head resting comfortably on his chest. “If I tell you this, you have to promise to keep it a secret. I haven’t shared it with anyone before.”

Bruce’s fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. The warmth of his hand against her cheek could have sent her to sleep right then. “You can trust me.”

Marie took a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Are you familiar with the Batman?”

A pang of guilt twisted in Bruce’s chest. He was acutely aware of the deception—the fact that he had been keeping his dual identity a secret from her while she was currently opening up about her partnership with his alter ego. It felt like an unfair imbalance.

“Bruce?” Marie’s voice brought him back to the moment.

“Sorry, yes, I’m familiar. The guy in the—what is it—leather who beats up bad guys?” He tried to keep his tone light, but his mind was racing.

Marie chuckled softly. “It’s not leather. It’s Kevlar.” She paused, then added with a touch of excitement, “I’ve been working with him for the past few months. Remember that murder case I told you about? He’s been helping me with it. We work together almost every night.”

Marie’s voice was barely a whisper as she fought to stay awake. “He has access to all these resources—more than I can even guess. We don’t talk much about anything personal, just the case. He has all these gadgets that give him direct access to police logs, 911 calls... the whole deal.”

She paused, struggling to stay conscious. “I can tell he cares about me, even if he’s not great at showing it. He really doesn’t want me to get hurt. Honestly, he’s been the best part of my job. He makes a difference in this city.” The final part of her sentence came out with a yawn.

Bruce’s heart ached with the weight of his unspoken truth. He was on the edge of revealing everything—the burden of keeping his secret, the tangled emotions he felt for her—but he hesitated. As Marie’s breathing grew deeper, her head resting more heavily against his chest, Bruce struggled with the internal conflict of wanting to be honest with her yet fearing the consequences.

His gaze softened as he looked down at her peaceful face. As he gently ran his fingers through her hair, he longed to share the truth, to lift the weight from his shoulders. But the moment felt too delicate, too perfect to risk shattering. The words remained lodged in his throat, unspoken and heavy.

Marie’s soft, even breaths were the only sound now, and Bruce found solace in the simple intimacy of the moment. With a heavy heart, he decided against confessing, choosing instead to hold her close and savor the comfort of her presence. He resolved to carry the burden a little longer, hoping that one day he’d find the right moment to reveal the truth.

The night wore on in quiet companionship, the warmth of the fire and Marie’s presence offering a brief respite from the tangled web of secrets and emotions that Bruce grappled with.

[pengweng-quack]

Bloodbound

Carlisle Cullen x Human!OC

Summary: Place Carlisle in the Edward situation of falling in love with a human, and see what happens

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Notes:

This is on Ao3 under the same title and username if you'd like to read it there (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54527830)

Posting (just like before) is random lol, hope you guys enjoy this story

Much much longer than Being a Witch with Vampires by the way, so we're in a long ride (or you are, because I already know the story)

Word Count: 2047 words

General warning: I used some religious references in this story so read with caution if you're not so keen into reading that

TW for this chapter: None

PM or Comment to be added on the taglist for this one!

Masterlist

Pulling over at Celine's house, Carlisle spotted her walking out of her front door, clad in a light blue top paired with a khaki skirt. Without hesitation, he hurried out of his car, eager to escort her to the passenger seat beside him.

“Why are there so many cars behind us?” Celine asked, looking behind them, where Rosalie and Emmett’s cars are behind his

“They heard that I asked you out on a date.” Carlisle answered, having prepared the answer in his mind already “Wanted to be in support. I got them to not follow us where I had planned to bring you though, I think you’d want the privacy.”

“That’s cute.” Celine said with a grin on her face. Carlisle moved faster, reaching for the seatbelt on her end and buckling it, the faintest of their skins touching sending electric shocks on his body

“It was a shock, receiving your call.” Celine said as Carlisle started driving, Rosalie and Emmett’s car getting smaller from his rear mirror “I mean, I’ve gotten hints that you were into me, both from your actions and to what everyone at the hospital told me, so like, I wasn’t shocked shocked but that doesn’t mean that I was like expecting you to ask me out or some—

“You’re cute.” Carlisle could only say, looking at her briefly before focusing his eyes on the road

“How long have you liked me anyways?” Celine asked curiously

“I wish I knew the answer to that, believe me.” Carlisle said, a fond smile growing on his face “I’ve just always…liked you in that way.”

He wanted to bare his soul, to confess that she held his entire being in her hands from the moment they met. That she had reminded him the long-forgotten sensation of having a heart. But he held back, a harsh reminder echoing in his mind that their date had been born of necessity, to protect her from the looming threat of a vampire like himself.

They were pulling up in a nearby bar, Carlisle couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that this wasn't how he had envisioned their first date. Nevertheless, he reminded himself that this moment, imperfect as it may be, was still a precious opportunity to get the chance to be with Celine. He got out of the car, making his way to her side to open the door for her.

“Always the gentleman.” Celine chuckled, following him in the bar and to the bar area so they were nearer to the bartender

"Of course, only the best behavior with the best girl." Carlisle flirted, sitting on the chair next to her "Know what you want?"

"Oh yeah, one Sangria please." Celine ordered to the bartender "You?"

"Just beer." Carlisle answered, thinking of how he'll make it look like he was drinking. He didn't especially like beer in general, having remembered his past when he was still human

"Oh, so the doctor does drink." Celine teased, admiring the doctor out of his coat

'He looked marvelous' She noted, the navy-blue polo shirt seemed to be tailored perfectly fit for him. Its snug fit hinted at the dedication he put into maintaining a healthy lifestyle, even amidst his demanding schedule. His biceps were subtly flexing as he reaches for his wallet, showing to Celine that even if he's older, his physique says otherwise.

"Open a tab under Cullen." Carlisle said to the bartender, giving him his card, as he gives their drinks to them

"I will admit, it has been a while since I've been on a date." Celine said, taking a sip of her Sangria "So, I apologize if I get a bit too awkward for your liking."

"Don't even think of it. I've been single myself for quite a while now." Carlisle replied, fake drinking his beer, the fizzy effect of his drink resting on his tongue. He carefully spat the beer back in the glass, disgusted with the feeling

"How long?" Celine asked

"Since I adopted Edward, Emmett, and Alice which is roughly 20 to 21 years ago, I think?" He lied effortlessly. He felt bad lying to her, knowing that she sincerely liked him enough to go out on a date with him

"Why'd you adopt if you're alone?" She asked again. Now Carlisle was caught off guard, what story will he say that won't sound creepy for her?

"It was an ex-girlfriend's request." He came up with, looking at Celine so she won't get suspicious. She had a gentle smile, nodding at him to continue

'Now I feel twice as bad' He thought. She was so genuine, listening to his story, when most of it was filled with nothing but lies

"Told me that if I wanted to propose, I would have to give her 3 children." He continued, fake drinking again as he thinks of what to add "I adopted them all at once, Edward technically being my oldest, followed by Emmett, then with Alice being my youngest. But they're all near each other's age, so sometimes I accidentally say that they're triplets."

"What happened?" Celine asked, genuine curiosity on her face

"Turned down the proposal. Said that I wasn't enough for her. Now, my sister helps me in taking care of them." He answered quietly, looking away from her in shame. Shame for making such a fabricated story to her.

"Do you regret doing it?" She asked quietly, her hand resting on his cheek and softly making her face him, almost flinching with how cold he was "Do you regret adopting them?"

"Oh no." Carlisle answered, her eyes captivating him "Among the thousands of things that I've done wrong in my life, they are the only things that I've done right."

"You must really love being a father then." Celine said. Carlisle noticed how her smile faltered for a bit, before making it wider again

"Of course, it makes me feel fulfilled." Carlisle answered, smiling back at her "How about you?"

"How about me?" Celine asked, ordering another glass of Sangria for her to drink, having finished the first one "I'm not a parent, I can't be really."

"Why'd you say so?" Carlisle asked, now curious. He watched Celine finish her second glass of Sangria before ordering another one, it was easy to figure out that she was stalling.

"You don't have to tell me; I'll understand if it isn't something you want to talk about."

"I really can't conceive kids. Got tested multiple times already, all results had the same answer, that I'm infertile." Celine revealed in a low tone, feeling ashamed of it

"Well, don't you think that makes us a perfect pair?" Carlisle asked her, not wanting her to think that having kids was something he still wanted "If you ever want to be a mom of some sort, obviously. You don't owe them in being their parent."

"I mean, what if you want to have kids of your own one day?" Celine asked back, nervousness lingering in her tone

As Carlisle observed Celine's vulnerability and anxiety during their conversation, he couldn't help but empathize with her underlying fears and insecurities.

He understood her reasoning in revealing personal information on their first date, recognizing her desire to prevent him from becoming too emotionally invested if she couldn't meet his expectations. Though the nervousness and anxiety lingering in her at the conversation of having children still made his heart break

"A child of my own isn't something that I would worry about." Carlisle answered her "I'm contented with my three children already. I think any more will just make me look like a womanizer, don't you think?"

"I think I like you a little deeper now." Celine blurted out, having just finished her third glass. She was turning red now, the alcohol taking effect on her “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—

"Alcohol talking now?" Carlisle teased her, feeling her lighten up from the deep discussion that they had

“Are you feeling alright? Do you want some water?” He asked again, not being able to help but worry for her reddened face

"Always the doctor. I’m just not really good with alcohol." Celine murmured; her eyes rested on him. She didn’t voice anything out but it was obvious that she wanted something

And Carlisle needed to give it to her.

“Everything alright?” Carlisle asked, looking at her with concern

"Dance with me?” She murmured quietly; an alluring twinkle in her eyes

"Of course." Carlisle answered lowly, willing to entertain her every request

'This was what Alice meant when she asked if I could deny her' He realized quietly, staring as she asks the bartender for a glass of water to soothe her temperature.

She stood up and pulled him to the dance floor, a particularly sexy song playing. Initially feeling awkward beside her, Carlisle couldn't shake the sensation that someone as extraordinary as her was merely taking pity on him.

But amidst the uncertainty, there was an undeniable sense of rightness, as if they were two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place to complete the picture.

Carlisle decided to let loose, following how Celine moved her body. He was wary to touch her, scared that he'll crave more of the temptation.

But Celine took over, gently coaxing his hands to rest on her waist. As she drew herself closer to him, her hands finding their place on his shoulders.

Her scent was intoxicating, she was intoxicating.

Soon, their bodies were close from touching. Carlisle's hands found a comfortable place on Celine's waist, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled her nearer to him.

In the intimacy of the moment, he could feel the magnetic pull between them, her eyes beckoning to him with unspoken desire, her every touch a silent invitation.

“May I?” Carlisle asked quietly, moving his face closer to hers. They felt alone right now, everything and everyone becoming a blur.

Celine didn’t answer by words, but her pulling him down and kissing him on the lips was an answer that was more than enough for him. Every fiber of his being screamed for restraint, urging him to resist the allure of his primal instincts.

But in the heat of the moment, her kiss felt too irresistible, too perfect to deny himself of.

With a sense of surrender, Carlisle allowed himself to be consumed by the passion that enveloped them, losing himself in the intoxicating rhythm of their kiss.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the connection they shared, a bond that transcended words and defied logic.

For in that moment, Carlisle sensed a flutter in his chest, his cheeks tingling with warmth, as the essence of his vampiric nature ebbed away. He felt remarkably human, enveloped in the tender emotions evoked by their kiss, granting him a precious taste of humanity after 359 years his of vampiric existence.

In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he was exactly where he was meant to be, and who he was meant to be with.

Carlisle pulled his hand from her waist, placing it softly on her cheek, pulling away from what had been his taste of temptation. A smile grew on his face, having just kissed the woman who had unexpectedly entered his life, bringing with her a sense of joy and fulfillment that he had never before experienced in his 382 years of existence

“Let’s go somewhere…private.” Celine whispered, looking at him with fake innocence in her eyes

“You’ve had something to drink.” Carlisle whispered back, resting his hands back on her waist out of habit “And as tempting as you are right now, I do not wish to bed you while you have alcohol in your system.”

“The alcohol leaves my body very quickly so I’ll feel like I didn’t drink before we get home.” She replied knowingly, looking at him, her eyes screaming nothing but desire

“Please indulge me in this.”

Carlisle knew what she wanted, and he wanted it too, but he could hear Edward and Rosalie in his head. They were screaming for him to stop, for him to be rational, for him to think. But he couldn’t, he wanted her.

He needed her.

And she wanted him too.

And what would that make him if he didn’t give her everything that she wants?