#But its hard to build a following from scratch

[kissingmilfs]

ʚɞ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 | 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ʚɞ

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞.

𝟏𝟖+ 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 & 𝒎𝒆𝒏 𝒅𝒏𝒊

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

an incessant blaring sound interrupts your nighttime routine. at first, you assume its from the apartment building next to yours. but then the smell of smoke slowly infiltrates any crevice and vent it can seep through. the noises of people frantically exiting the building doesn’t quell the alarm. you feel horrible for thinking what a major inconvenience this is. half of your hair is set with curlers. you grab your purse, keys and phone and follow the crowd down the stairs safely.

once you’re in the night air, you thank whatever gods may exist, it wasn’t your building effected. firefighters flutter in and out of the apartment units sharing an alley with yours. the flames appear somewhat tamed. neighbors mindlessly chatter—speculating what could have caused the fire. EMTs already set up a barricade but it doesn’t stop human curiosity. folks pressing tightly on the wooden barricades and incessantly pestering cops, firefighters or EMTs for any update.

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

thirty minutes later, the flames have succumbed to the efforts of the firefighters. a lingering smell of smoke sits in the air. mud and water mix with the black ash on the building. you see familiar faces crying and holding each other. the firefighters did their best but half of the building got hit the hardest. guilt washes over you. here you felt inconvenienced by the alarm but people have lost most of their belongings and most likely have to start from scratch.

unexpectedly the crowd erupts with a thunderous clap and cheering. it takes no time to realize everyone is commending the firefighters for their hard work. you witness the civil servants peeling off their helmets one by one. it’s clear all of them are exhausted. then some women start dog whistling. with an arched eyebrow, you locate the firefighter causing all the chaos.

the woman stands over 6 feet. she already removed the top layer of the suit which dangles off one shoulder. the moonlight and street lights reflect off her brown skin glistening with sweat. you can hear the gulp of women, straight and queer, as the firefighter curls her fingers underneath her fitted and soaked white t-shirt. she brings the hem of her shirt to her face—wiping off sweat and lingering ash. the entirety of her abs are on display. without even straining you see a drop of sweat rolling down her stomach.

a few women start fanning themselves. you even witness one pushing her cleavage up for prominent display. you hear through the chaos someone announcing residents in your building are allowed to enter again. sighing your relief, you start following the crowd. someone grabs your elbow—trying to get your attention.

swiftly turning around, you’re met face to face with the firefighter causing the lustful gazes and audible desires. with the distance closed—you’re able to see the faded scars on her face and the beginning wrinkles on the corners of her eyes. something about her, her face, those intense grey eyes stirs familiarity in your core. she presents you with a crooked smile.

“don’t recognize me, stranger?” her voice emerges as if from the squashed flames themselves.

you narrow your eyes and let them inspect those features. her fluffy and long eyelashes. her silken black hair that frames her face. the richness of her skin tone provoking you to kiss every inch.

you gasp with recognition. “sevika?”

sevika lets out the tiniest chuckle and nods. her hand on your elbow remains. it sends warmth and comfort throughout your arm. now that you’ve placed the face—you cannot believe you did not connect the dots sooner. yes, she’s aged but she’s still sevika. maybe not your sevika but still the sevika you grew up with.

the same sevika who fiercely protected you and let you crawl into her bottom bunk. the same sevika who beat up the boys for touching you the wrong way. then wiping your tears away moments later. especially the same sevika that took you to the overlook and shared your first kiss with. your guardian angel you never stopped thinking about or hoping turned out okay.

“you’re a firefighter now?”

“well i’ve been one for ten years but yeah.” sevika hold on your elbow shifts, you almost cry, but she only moves her hand underneath it.

your eyes continue searching sevika’s. “i thought you might’ve moved away or…”

sevika knowingly crooks a smile. “or jail?” you cringe but sevika laughs. “yeah, well i came too close a few times. but must’ve had my own guardian angel or something because the last time i got arrested—the judge told me enough was enough. she sent me to some reform program. i ended up liking the firefighter gig so…permanently fighting fires.”

“i’m so proud of you, sev. really.”

“thanks, kid.” sevika takes one step back then inconspicuously checks you out. “maybe not a kid anymore. you’ve filled out well.” she reaches out with her free hand and lifts some hair away from your ears. “and you’ve grown into your ears.”

an instantaneous blush spreads on your cheeks and you swat sevika’s hand away. your fingers reach to situate your hair but sevika catches them. you watch as sevika brings your hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. the feel of those full lips sends signals all over your skin. it’s almost the same effect she unwillingly provoked on all those women. refraining from retracting your hand, you keep your eyes locked on sevika.

she only smiles. her lips spreading across your knuckles. dammit. sevika fully knows the effect she’s having on you. she drinks it in eagerly despite your limited reactions.

“you hurt or anything? you didn’t live in that building, right?”

you shake your head in response to both questions. sevika smiles again. “oh, good. not a damsel in distress anymore. i get off in an hour. you’ll still be up?”

blinking away your visible confusion, you think over her question. “um, probably, yeah? why?”

a laugh rumbles in sevika’s chest but it never escapes her lips. “because i wanna come over, pretty girl. it’s been so long. can you blame me for wanting to make up for lost time?”

“oh. no, i mean, yes.” you groan—feeling like that helpless teenager that always needed sevika around. “yes, you can come over. i’ll be up. im apartment 8C—ring the buzzer and i’ll come get you.”

sevika hums her acknowledgment then releases her hold from your hand and elbow. yet her touch doesn’t cease and she reaches for a few strands of hair. “it’s kinda unfair, ya know?”

“what’s unfair?”

“you’re outside in a robe and hair half done but still the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺ ༻❁༺

placing a kettle on the stove, you reach for two mugs and a container of all your special teas. sevika won’t know, but you never offer anyone your good teas. tonight feels special though. you can feel those grey eyes boring into your back. in the hour and a half window sevika allotted you—you showered, finished with the curlers in your hair, and found a pair of your cutest pajamas. the ruffles on the hem of the shorts barely grazed the crease meeting your butt and thighs. maybe overly ambitious?

when you had greeted sevika at the front door—you could tell her eyes didn’t know what to take in first. in sevika’s mind you were the picture of femininity. pink cotton pajamas hugging your curves sinfully. the cute little bow on the camisole teasing her eyes. she hadn’t expected her heart to momentarily stop at witnessing a fray strand you missed in your curler set. and the way you smelled? a mixture of strawberries and coconut with the faintest dash of something earthy.

sevika’s always found hyperfemininity attractive in the women she dated and slept with. but it was something about you…you wore it effortlessly and without second thought. it was apart of you.

she took in your apartment but eventually found herself staring at you as you prepared the tea.

“need any help, pretty girl?”

the words linger in the air before settling into your skin. when did she get so comfortable with petnames? the kettle whistles pulling you away from the lustful thoughts. “i’m good, thanks. do you still take a heap of sugar and milk in your tea?”

sevika barks out a laughter and you cannot help looking over your shoulder to witness the melodic sound. “i guess some things don’t change. yeah, you know what i like.”

squashing your nerves, you carefully pack some tea herbs into a tiny meshed infuser. once they’re packed—you steadily pour water over them in the mugs. normally you’d watch the tea steep, darkening the water, but instead you carry the mugs over to sevika. placing them down carefully on the thrifted mahogany coffee table, you rush back into the kitchen grabbing a pint of milk, brown sugar and some shortbread cookies.

there’s a sudden warmth that appears behind you. before you can properly investigate a calloused yet familiar hand gently rests on your waist.

“you sure you don’t need help with that…sugar?”

you’re hopeless against the drawl of sevika’s words. the end of her sentence hitting with a double entendres. you cannot place a time sevika’s petnamed you, sugar. she awakens another level of curiosity and arousal within you. if only you could see the look on sevika’s face. the knowing smirk of her affect on you. her pupils dilating and darkening in a way you’ve never been privy to.

you cannot help the racing of your heart. or closing your eyes. you don’t even notice you’re leaning back into sevika’s comfortable warmth until her hand shifts towards the front of your hip. as if she’s catching you and relaying the same message: i miss you.

“yes, you can carry the sugar, sev.” the words somehow manage to crawl out after the long pause between question.

sevika barely grunts her response before reaching underneath your arm. she purposely leans forward. her hips now pressed against your butt. you feel the encompassing safety of her broad shoulders brushing on your neck. you find yourself holding your breath until she pulls away. her prosthetic arm, this one different than the one from the fire earlier, smoothly retrieves the sugar jar.

then she steps back, as if, nothing happened and walks nonchalantly back to the couch. she might as well have whistled with the cockiness oozing off of her. you shakily inhale, one, two, three, then exhale, four five six. jitters remain nonetheless.

you find sevika on the love seat and taking up space at that. yes, you technically have room to sit. but you’d be forced to sit directly underneath her. despite the presence of another sofa, you are both aware that is not how this dance flows.

as sevika already suspected, you delicately lower yourself in the couch cushion next to her. your thighs have no space besides pressed tightly against hers. you cannot tell if you’re hallucinating or can actually feel the warmth through her jeans. not wanting to address the obvious silence you begin prepping the teas. a crap ton of sugar and then enough milk the color turns almost a sandy color.

sevika intently watches your actions. your fingers moving with remembered fluidity. she likes the color you polished your nails. finding herself wondering how they’d juxtapose against the pinkness of your spread pussy. sevika cannot deny the intense arousal building within her. it came the second she spotted your face. it dwelled and grew with her longing to hold you and whisper how much she missed you.

every second spent in your presence reminded sevika why she never lasted long in previous relationships. it took her some therapy and time alone to realize she unintentionally looked for you in every kiss, every hug, every fuck. no one ever came close to the calming water you poured on her raging fire. she could not leave the apartment without, at least, holding your face and kissing you tenderly then passionately.

“i learned to make chai. authentic chai.” your carefully plucked words barely relieves the tension.

sevika tips her head a little. “you did? why?”

you blush and hand sevika her tea. the answer feels rather obvious. “you said whenever we got outta there—you’d make me your amma’s chai.” you stop there. you cannot bring yourself to finish. but you know sevika can deduce and fill in the rest.

“did it help?”

“help with what?”

“help you feel closer to me.”

the words linger between the two of you. sevika’s expertly laid her intentions out with a few words. the bait flops in your hands—far too easy to deny or resist.

you turn your head—finally meeting sevika’s gaze for the first time since she entered the apartment. you expected another cocky smirk. instead you’re met with rounded eyes of vulnerability. they almost pool sevika’s desperation. even if you had planned on lying, on denying the obvious, everything vanished. reflected back at you was the same fifteen year old girl you fell in love with.

“no. no, it didn’t. nothing did.” you whisper out the words. almost believing if you speak the truth you’ll awaken from a beautiful dream.

sevika rests her mug on the coffee table. mindful of the coaster present. you focus on the action but within seconds her hand, no longer on the mug, cups your face. it emanates the lingering warmth from her mug. even without thinking, you reach for her prosthetic arm rested on her lap. you settle it on your other cheek. the balance of cold metal and warm flesh somehow feels symbolic. or maybe you’re searching for too much meaning in reuniting with an old friend…lover?

the magnetic pull draws you both closer until your lips are slotted together. moving in synchronization as if 15 years haven’t passed. as if you didn’t only share one kiss. all the longing and aching over pours into the kiss. your heart somehow thumps rapidly yet feels calm and steady within its cavity. when sevika tenderly swipes her tongue against your plump bottom lip—you know in that instance you’d do anything she wanted.

you graciously part your lips with a whimper. you feel sevika hesitate before she parts your lips by an inch.

“you always sound like that, pretty girl?” sevika barely murmurs the question on your lips.

too impatient to answer or decipher what sevika means, you take the inch of space back and unite your lips once again. sevika laughs into the kiss and indulges the neediness. she is just as desperate, maybe even more. her hands ever so slightly tighten their hold on your face. a tiny whimper escapes once again as sevika tangles her tongue with yours. she responds with a eager grumble of her own.

sevika, testing the waters, pretends to pull away. your lips, without hesitation, chase after hers. you both do this dance until sevika manages to guide you into her lap. any hesitancy dissolves. you are reunited with an old flame and you’re desperate to kindle it and let it burn and consume you. straddling sevika’s hips, panting into the kiss, sevika presses one hand on your lower back—keeping you firmly in place.

letting your body make the decisions, not wrapped in the cloud of lingering doubt, you nip on sevika’s lower lip. sucking flesh between your lips as your tongue strokes the inner softness of her lip. you relish the feeing of sevika’s hand gripping your back. the little groan she emits. her shifting underneath—as if you’re already getting her hot and bothered (you are).

her grip still firm on your lower back—sevika tips her head back on the couch. her eyes remain closed as she processes the weight of her actions and of you in her lap. your own lips tingle as you analyze sevika’s face. a smile stretches on yours as you notice her thoroughly kissed and swollen lips. you’re already itching for another kiss. instead, patient as ever, your fingers work to remove the curlers from your hair. it’s no point in pretending you and sevika are not having sex tonight. curlers and sex don’t necessarily pair.

sevika eyes barely manage open as she feels the shift in her lap. she watches in intense fascination as you free your hair. there are varying curl patterns since some curlers where in place longer than others. your fingers delicate despite the slight panting on your chest. your nipples already pert in attention. you do not catch sevika’s gaze until you’re almost done.

she smiles without hesitation the second your eyes meet. her hands begin wandering up your sides. in the wake your camisole rides up with the action. goosebumps populate your skin. your fingers almost tremble pulling the last bobby pin. sevika drags you closer the second the final curl falls. your hair creates a curtain of privacy.

sevika rakes her eyes over the exposed skin and how your camisole rests underneath your breasts. “can i take this off, pretty girl?”

an immediate nod comes from you. “please, yes.”

sevika moans. she moans at your eagerness and how willing you are to trust her. the surprise only lasts momentarily as sevika’s peeling off the tiny fabric. you watch her lips fall apart with a flux of emotions on her face. once the shirt is freed from your hair—sevika opens her mouth to ask for permission.

your hand cradles the back of sevika’s neck and draw her closer to one nipple. “you don’t have to ask permission, sev. i want what you want.”

sevika moans again with the permission. you effortlessly taking control of what you want—turns sevika on more than she’s ready to admit. nonetheless her lips circle around your nipple. her tongue darts around the bud. it earns her the response of you bucking your hips and pushing her closer to your breast. she gladly obliges.

her lips suction your nipple with a little more pressure. a hand comes to cup the neglected breast. palming and kneading with expertise. her large hand encompasses in a way you don’t think any lover has before. her teeth carefully experiment with nibbling on your nipple. you whine in response.

your hips move on their own accord. the combined sensation of teeth, tongue, lips and her hands leaves you desperate and wanting. you relish in the feeling of her jean crotch providing the perfect friction to your needy grinding. sevika groans into your nipple once she connects the dots.

her lips move from your nipple. a string of saliva leaving a connection. she lifts her eyes to yours. a sound traps in your throat seeing the pure need in sevika’s eyes.

hushed and rushed words tumble from sevika’s lips. “i need to make you feel good, baby. please. please can i taste you?”

you are positive sevika’s never had such desperation in her words. because you know no one in their right mind could deny her. but with you…she’s uncertain. the years of yearning bubbling over into this precise moment. you capture her lips in response. trying to say; yes take everything, all you need and want, drink and fill yourself.

with grace of a ballerina—sevika turns the tides and she’s standing with you in her arms, bridal style. you don’t even have the opportunity to be thrown off guard. she moves around your apartment as if she’s walked in this space numerous times. sevika locates your room without instruction.

she lowers you on the bed like a delicate flower. you’re tempted to protest but you give her the grace. you both deserve a tender reunion. sevika hastily steps out of her jeans. she stands before you in her navy boxers and a black shirt. your breathing matches hers with built up tension and anticipation. sevika moves closer to the bed and you begin crawling backwards.

she catches your ankle, shaking her head. “not yet, baby.”

sevika kneels at the edge of the bed on the floor. understanding without her saying much, you position yourself where she placed you before. sevika nuzzles her cheek against the inside of your knee. your fingers find solace in her strands. your nails softly scratching at her scalp. with your soothing yet tingling touch sevika begins her journey of kisses up your thighs. interchangeably switching sides until her lips meet the hem of your shorts.

sevika’s eyes travel the length of your body and her lips spread into a smile as you lift your hips. chuckling lowly, sevika parts with enough space to remove your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. she loses her breathing at the sight of you bare before her. the tussles of hair on your mound travel down to your lips. sevika gently widens your thighs. her action reveals how drenched you are. she can hear the slick separating between your folds. her mouth salivates at the sight and sound.

her hands massage at your thighs eliciting a trembling moan from you. you whimper, looping one leg on sevika’s shoulder. digging the heel of your foot into her shoulder blade to draw her near.

“don’t make me beg, sev. come on…”

sevika groans and circles her arms around your thighs, tugging you closer off the edge of the bed. “i’m sorry, princess. i don’t mean to make you wait. let me fix that.”

she presses a chaste kiss on your clit. you’re about to admonish her for teasing but your words are caught in your throat. sevika roughly drags her tongue up the length of your cunt. she moans deeply as your taste floods her mouth. now paired with your scent, sevika knows she will never get enough. her fingers firmly grip into your thighs and she feasts.

her tongue expertly explores every single inch it can reach. she starts with the languid yet pressured licks. each lick causes you to buck into her mouth. too unaware you could potentially bust her upper lip. not that sevika cares either. she switches her methods and uses the tip of her tongue to tease circles on your clit. she basks in the heavy moan you release as she focuses on your clit. your hips move in faint circles meeting each stroke of her tongue. one hand remains in sevika’s hair—softly caressing her hair or on occasion tugging on the silk-like strands.

sevika whimpers into your cunt as you play with her hair. her whimpers vibrate on your clit in such a sensual way. it produces a high pitched whine that you’ve never heard from yourself. even sevika briefly paused to fully appreciate the noise that graced her ears. nonetheless she returns to worshiping your clit. as she sucks it between her pursed lips, her own hand snakes down into her boxers.

not at all surprised with the pool of her own arousal. her calloused fingers rub an immediate circle around her clit. she’s so wet and sensitive she can barely feel the roughness embedded on her fingertips. but that’s not the stimulation she’s seeking. the second sevika’s tongue dips inside your cunt—her two fingers push past her entrance. you and sevika simultaneously groan. sevika allows you the opportunity to arch off the bed and grind down on her tongue. the warm and wet muscle teasing that special, squishy spot inside of you. her own fingers knuckles deep inside herself.

sevika almost cries into your pussy with the overwhelming sensations. riding her own fingers while you ride her tongue. through the haze in her eyes sevika witnesses the beauty of you chasing your desires. she wants you to topple over on her tongue continuously. if she could, she’d put brush to canvas and honor this moment forever. it only instills in sevika she must never depart from your life again.

your fingers tug sevika’s hair. sevika replies with a whimper and somehow understands the frantic look in your eyes. her lips return to your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure. she witnesses your eyes rolling towards the back of your head. her own hips speeding up in hopes of climaxing with you. sevika’s tongue dashes across your clit occasionally intent on seeing you lose control with the added stimulation.

“seeeev!” your back arches off the bed and your thighs squeeze her head in place.

those manicured nails sevika adores so much scrape over her scalp. she moans with the stinging sensation. her fingers make squelching noises as she works them rapidly. you’re too lost in the heights of your climax. unable to register sevika is fucking herself as her mouth sends black spots over your vision.

sevika, relentlessly, obliges after hearing a pleading whimper. her lips leave a departing kiss on your clit before pulling away. but sevika continues grinding on her fingers. she bites into your thigh as she chases her own release. it takes everything in you to prop up on your elbows. your eyes watch in widened excitement.

she catches your gaze and you forget how to breathe. the unadulterated need and yearning in those grey eyes set you off for another round. sevika seems to read your thoughts before they even form. she carefully retracts her fingers then climbs on the bed. sevika helps guide you towards the center of the mattress.

“you flexible, pretty girl?” sevika questions. her soaked fingers teasingly run through your folds.

“depends. why?”

sevika smiles too wide for it being such a loaded question. she spreads your legs wider then hovers a little above you. you instinctively press your hand into the shell of her lower back. urging the woman to apply more of her weight. sevika happily follows the non-verbal instruction. she sighs at the feeling of your body.

her intentions soon become clear as sevika presses her swollen and perturbed clit on your mound. you let out a shaky gasp at the sensation. sevika reaches underneath your knee and lifts your leg on her shoulder. a guttural moan escapes you from the unexpected stretch.

“fuck, i’m sorry, baby. too much? i can stop.” sevika is already attempting to lower the leg.

without hesitation you grab sevika’s wrist and shake your head. “no, please. i need to see you come. please…use me.”

sevika bucks her hips with the unexpected words you bestow on her. she leaves the leg on her shoulder. her works to find the perfect rhythm and fluidity to grind her clit down. she eventually settles on moving her hips up and down. it allows both your clits to feel stimulated when she drags down. her prosthetic fingers dig into your thighs as her hips work in momentum. once you’ve grown accustomed to sevika’s pacing—you lift your hips to meet her halfway.

you almost drool at the sight of sevika’s head thrown back in ecstasy. the rhythmic bumping of your clits. the sensitivity it invokes—one you’re bound to chase for the rest of your life. sevika lets out the tiniest mewl. it sounds so unlike her, you almost question, if it came from you. yet her eyes are half hooded and eyebrows scrunched as if in concentration. a thin layer of sweat shines on her face. she’s majestic.

sevika attempts to focus her gaze on you. a pleading tone laced into her words. “baby…baby…gonna…pl-please…”

you refrain from the shit eating grin wanting to overtake your face. “asking me to come, sevi-baby?”

biting her lip, sevika nods shamelessly, needing the permission. craving the permission from her most special girl. “please…”

“you’re perfect, sevika. i’ve missed you. go ahead, beautiful. come for me. let me see you…”

sevika turns her head into the propped leg on her shoulder and messily kisses the tender flesh. you continue meeting her hips despite sevika forgoing any sort of rhythmic pacing. she whispers incoherent love rambles and gratitude. a moan trapped in sevika’s throat gives away her platitude. she slams her hips into you, as if, coming inside of you.

her body tenses above you right before moans bubble from her lips. eventually her tension alleviates to waves of trembling. you remove your leg from her shoulder and instantly sevika collapses atop of you. her legs slotted with yours. you feel just how wet this ordeal made her.

sevika nuzzles her nose into neck. your fingers trace nonsensical shapes over her back. overtime your hearts sync as you listen to each others breathing.

“my pretty girl…it’ll be until death do us part before we are separated again.” sevika whispers the promise into your neck.

an exhausted yet satiated smile tickles your cheeks. “is that a marriage proposal, sevika?”

sevika cheekily nips the sensitive skin of your neck. “and a promise, sugar.”

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | quirkless!reader, prohero!dynamight, arranged marriage au.

a.n; fare warning, THIS IS A MONSTER<3 lol

Fuckin' Marry Me Series | First Part | Second Part |

The gentle sound of the scribble your pen makes over the paper, right where it requires your formal signature, is heard louder than you expected in that tense silence. Well, it isn't a bad silence, but more like an anxious one. One that has Bakugou, who is sitting right next to you, literally shaking his right leg up and down continuously, even though you already told him you would do this.

And what does ‘this’ mean? It means you agreed to marry Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki. To help him finally be free from his own mother's clutches.

You had a hard time believing in the whole story he told you when he knocked on your door last Sunday morning –almost tearing down the door actually– after his father died. Even though you had agreed that same day, you asked him for a few days to clear your head a bit. He accepted, respecting your space even at work, which was weird.

A normal day at work always starts with a banter with this same man right at the entrance of the company and it follows until you enter the elevator. Everyone is already used to it, so they ignore both of you. It mostly ends when you have to get off on the floor where your office is, which is one under the one where all heroes keep their hero costumes and get changed. Of course, sometimes the banter would continue if you were assigned to work with Hero Dynamight through the earbuds that connected you at a distance.

That Monday morning though, was different. Weird for everyone who looked at both of you in shock. The moment you stood in front of the other right outside the company, everyone was waiting for it to happen, yet found themselves opening their eyes wide in surprise as you and Bakugou simply bowed slightly in hello and walked towards the building in complete silence. It followed inside the elevator, where he willingly stood next to you –you always stood on each side of it to avoid even accidentally touching. Nobody could believe their eyes. Especially when it was your moment to walk out on your floor and he said, “See ya’ around”, and you turned your head towards him and slightly smiled, murmuring a timidly, “You too. Take care outside.”

That day you weren't assigned to work with him, nor the two days after –in which these same actions and words were repeated by both of you every morning– yet you could feel the whispers and gossip around about this neutral ground between you two. Your boss even called you to his office to ask if everything was okay.

You internally laughed at the situation. It was so normal for you to fight with Bakugou that everyone found it weird and worrisome if you didn't. It was actually hilarious.

Wednesday shift had you entering the office at 5 p.m. and would have you leaving at almost 3 a.m. –if the hero assigned to you didn't get caught in a villain fight around that time. So when you were about to take the elevator and its door opened, you almost bumped into a freshly showered and already leaving Bakugou Katsuki.

“Oh, hey…”

“Hey,” he answered back. Both of you took a step out of the elevator, standing right in front of each other. One of his hands flew to the back of his head, scratching it and making small droplets of his still wet hair fall as he spoke, “I was, ummm, gonna talk to you today… but, umm, your shift…”

“Oh yeah, it's night shift today,” you nodded, hands holding the strap of your bag, trying to look casual and not let the nerves be shown. “Yours finished?”

“Yeah, tomorrow's night shift for me.”

“I know, I'm with you tomorrow,” you smiled.

His eyebrows pulled up, nodding in acceptance, “Cool.”

Yours frown, tilting your head a bit to the side, “Is it? Since when?” Now that you think about it, all that neutral ground between you two was very weird. New, but weird.

He rolled his eyes, hands hiding inside the pockets of his jacket.

“Since I'm trynna marry y–”

“Shhhh! Shut it, not here!” He smirked arrogantly. Ah, there's the comeback of the old annoying Bakugou.

“I–...”

“KATSUKI!” 

A screeching yell made the hairs of your arms stand in alert, completely unexpected for you. Yet for the man in front of you was a sound he was very familiar with. He grunted, his mood completely changing into anger as he turned around towards the yell.

“The fuck are you doing here, old hag?”

Oh. His mother.

You have seen her at a distance before, never actually got to meet her personally or even hear her voice –you were glad about that last particular fact though, she sounded awful.

You didn't miss to recognize the position Bakugou had you at the moment when he turned around and covered your small form behind his massive body from his mother to even acknowledge your presence there. You're grateful for his surprising and kind of sensitive tact. He's giving you an out from that, what you know for sure was going to be, a quite tense moment.

“I fucking told you, you need to hurry! I’m not fucking waiting for you any longer!” She yelled again, not caring at all about the place she was nor the people around in the lobby.

Bakugou looked to the side, taking a very deep breath before pinching his nose. His hand then hung loosely on the side of his body, but he kept opening and closing his hand in a fist. Oh wow, he was really holding himself back.

You didn't know what possessed you to do what you did or why, but you acted before thinking.

Your hand flew towards his, holding his trembling fist tightly. You knew it took him by surprise, but he hid it well by standing straighter, body still hiding you behind him. You knew for a fact that his face didn’t show any emotion other than anger, so nothing was amiss. His arm flexed behind him, bringing yours with his, as his hand opened and held yours tightly back.

This had been the very first time you willingly touched him. The first time you actually ever touched him at all. And your eyes couldn't leave the sight of his big hand fully surrounding yours, making you feel smaller than ever. I mean, you had eyes, he was a freaking hulk next to you. But the warm feeling of it enclosing yours securely made you feel safe, protected. It also felt calloused, a hand that was used every day to bring down bad guys and protect a whole nation, if not the world. Yet the warmth in it made your whole body tingle.

Fuck. What was this?

“I fuckin’ told you not to come in the first place,” he didn't need to yell, his voice sounded loud and clear even at the distance.

“HURRY THE FUCK UP!”

You tightened your hold on his hand, just to ground him in support. He sighed, returning the gesture to thank you before saying in his mother's direction, “I'm fuckin’ going, you pain in the ass”, and walked towards her, letting go of your hand.

His mother simply turned and walked in front of him outside of the building. She never realized you had been there the whole time.

The moment had been so stressful, and if that was what Bakugou had to deal with every day since he was born, damn. You actually felt sorry for him.

Thanks to the glass walls of the lobby you could watch the Bakugous walk towards the expensive car waiting for them outside. They were clearly shit-talking to each other the whole way, until before they got inside the car, his mother actually slapped the back of his head strongly. Twice.

A rising rage traveled up your body, hands closing in fists. What the fuck?! Who the fuck did she think she was? Why the hell did she need to fucking hit him like that, twice? Why the hell did she do it at all? Fuck, you were starting to believe in everything Bakugou told you about her.

“You get it now, don't you?” Izuku's voice from behind you made you jump a bit in surprise.

You cleared your throat, looking elsewhere and breathing deeply, trying to clear your head. 

“I don't–”

Izuku's hand raised, making you go silent. “Before you come up with a clever excuse, let me remind you that Kacchan and I have been friends since diapers… and we talk to each other.”

His eyeing made you gulp, but his words were clear enough, “You know then.”

He nodded, hand detaining the elevator’s doors so you both could enter, him after you. “He came to my apartment right after and told me all that happened. I was at the funeral too.”

He didn't need to explain anymore, it was more than clear he was talking about last Sunday when Bakugou asked you to marry him. You knew his father had died sometime Saturday afternoon and that the funeral was held that same night. Bakugou had come to your apartment right after his father had been cremated.

“I know you two fight like cats and dogs all the time, but he's not that bad once you give him a chance. And by what you just saw, I know you understand now why he's always on the defensive.”

You sigh. Damn it, you do. Growing up in an environment like that made you think it was actually a miracle Bakugou turned out the way he did.

“I also know that you agreed to marry him to help him be finally free from his mother,” he confirmed out loud once the doors of the elevator closed and it was just the two of you in there.

“Any advice?”

He chuckled, turning his whole body and looking directly at you, “Be open-minded. Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything.”

You rolled your eyes. Ugh, you were feeling the stress already.

The elevator signaled that you had arrived at your floor, so you sighed, nodding in his way as an answer and walking outside. But before the doors closed, Izuku held them for a bit longer to talk again.

“Also… Be smarter.”

“Than him?” You asked confused.

“Than her.”

And with that, he let the doors close, a smile plastered on his face that told on all the mischief his eyes shined with.

This little… cheeky bastard.

The audacity.

You made a mental note to punch Izuku the next time you bumped into him. On purpose.

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn't get that image of Bakugou being abused by his own mother out of your head. Because yes, it was fucking abuse. And in fucking public! How many times had this happened already? And why the fuck no one had ever said or done anything against it? Even when he was a kid?!

It was outrageous.

And the fact that Bakugou held himself back, because you knew he did, not only because she was his mother but also because she was a woman –and you could bet she fucking used that at her advantage– only spoke about the kind of man he was.

Bakugou Katsuki is a good man.

You took your cell phone out and searched for his contact number, your fingers flying over the keyboard.

You: Make the appointment for this Friday.

His reply didn't take long.

Bakugou K.: Done.

You took a deep breath. The decision was made. And you were not going to back out from it. Or so you hoped.

Another notification made your phone ring and it was another text message.

Bakugou K.: Thank you.

The beginning of a smile threatened to break out from your mouth as you re-read that message several times. Until the loud pip-ing that alerted a villain attack completely distracted you, or more like, brought you back to reality.

The rest of the days went faster than you expected.

The shift on Wednesday ended on time, miraculously. So at exactly 3 a.m. you were turning off your computer and putting your stuff back in your bag. You had several notifications on your phone but didn't feel like giving them your attention at that moment, choosing to concentrate on clearing your space and going back home. You let out several yawns when you got inside the elevator, holding yourself on the handrail, sleep having you on the verge of passing out tired of the stressful days. For some reason, villains chose that week to be more active than usual, which demanded more of your focus and being in constant alert mode.

When the doors finally opened on the lobby floor, you walked towards the check-in clock to mark the end of your shift. You bowed goodbye to the receptionist and walked towards the entrance of the company. For a moment, you entertained your mind with the idea of taking a taxi to get home faster. But damn it, that was expensive, and you were not going to waste money like that. And even if you wanted to, you couldn't.

You sighed, covering your neck as best as you could with your coat once you crossed the doors, and began your walk in the direction you needed to go. It was a very chilly night, but because it was Spring, you didn't expect such cold weather.

You were thinking about how you'd have to resist this coldness until you got home when you looked up and recognized Bakugou's obviously expensive car and him resting against it, arms crossed over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“You didn't check your messages, short-legs?”

You denied, head shaking, “I finished the shift and packed everything. Wanted to leave as soon as possible…”

He snorted, shaking his head, “Get in. I'll take you home.”

“Oh, it's okay. I can walk…”

He frowned, “The fuck you think I would be here for then? Get in the car, dumbass.”

“Geez. Okay! No need to get grumpy, asshole.”

You rounded his car towards the passenger seat and climbed in. He followed and got on the driver's side.

The inside was warm, as the heater had been on. You smiled gladly, rubbing your freezing-cold hands to warm them up faster.

“Can't believe you were planning to walk home. Are you stupid?”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back, but Izuku's words invaded your mind.

“…Kacchan's mouth sometimes opens before he thinks and his words don't mean what he actually intended, but his actions speak louder than anything…”

You thought for a moment, and it was actually easier than you thought to figure it out. Bakugou wasn't actually trying to insult you. He was worried that you would walk home that early in the morning, when the sun wasn't even out yet, in that weather.

Oh. That changed the perspective entirely.

“Yeah, actually,” you chuckled, hands still rubbing to heat them up. “I can't afford a taxi, and the subway isn't open yet.”

He turned on the car, but his attention was on you, “What you mean you can't afford a stupid taxi? Isn't your pay–…”

You denied, body relaxing a bit over the seat thanks to the warmth as he drove smoothly. You liked warm things. Spring was your favorite season because of it.

“Contrary to common belief, Quirk & Training Specialists don't gain much.”

“What?! Why? I mean… Most of the time is thanks to your area that we heroes are fuckin’ alive.”

“Awww. Thank you for admitting it! Now, would you admit that publicly?”

“Of fuckin’ course I would!”

You smiled, “Well, you would be the first one. Tell me, do you think other heroes would willingly admit that their wins sometimes belong to a ghost that tells them what to do or where to go through their earbuds?”

Your words made him close his mouth. Aha. Touché.

You chuckled, “It's okay, Bakugou. It's my job.”

“Now that I think about it, your name is nowhere to be seen in my reports. It's not even fuckin’ mentioned as a sidekick or something.”

“That's because I'm not a sidekick. I'm just a quirkless person who is observant enough to point you the best way to go. I'm not that important…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher what he meant. He didn't mean to insult you, what he was trying to say is, “don't say that about yourself”.

Wow. Izuku was so right about that advice. You made a mental note to thank him the next time you saw him. After punching him, of course.

The rest of the car ride was silent. But not uncomfortable. The gentle sound of the heater turned on was relaxing enough to even doze you a bit, warm and content.

Bakugou didn't speak until he parked right in front of your apartment building. You immediately noticed you had probably slept the rest of the way.

“I'm sorry, I think I fell asleep.”

“You think?” He chuckled, face looking your way. You snorted back, finding his teasing funny. His crooked smile made tingles run up your arms. Or was it the heater? Yes, that probably was it, the heater.

You cleared your throat and looked down at your seat belt and untied it –wait. You didn't remember putting it on. Did he… Did he put it on you when you fell asleep? Oh, my. You gulped, feeling the tingles run all over your body again. Fuck. You needed to leave that small space you shared with this man, like… now.

But before you did, you looked back at him one more time.

“Thank you… for driving me home,” you pulled a rebellious strand of hair behind your ear and smiled. You were indeed grateful that you actually didn't have to freeze on your way home, so you bowed slightly too.

You were about to open the door when he spoke.

“Wait,” you turned back at him and watched curiously as he opened the compartment, taking out a small folder.

He pushed it in your direction and looked expectantly at you. You took it, a bit doubtful, not quite understanding what it meant.

“I said I would sign a contract if that's what you wanted. It's just a draft, but I put some items in there that I want you to check. You can add some yourself. And if we both agree, we can sign it.”

Oh. “Oh, okay… I'll check it out and let you know.”

He nodded in response and you finally got out of the car and ran through the shocking cold towards your building. Inside the elevator, you pressed the folder over your chest. This felt way more real than what you felt earlier when you made the final decision and texted him.

But something tasted a bit… bitter. Was this something you had to do on your own? Like, the marriage was between the both of you. And while it wasn’t one out of a loving relationship, it was still something that included both. This contract thing felt like something you needed to sit down and review together.

You decided then.

Your hand searched for your phone in your bag, and ignoring all the notifications, you directly made the call.

Not one ring later, he picked up the call.

“Are you o–...”

“Did you leave?” You interrupted him before he could say anything else.

“No, I'm still down here.”

“Umm, are you tired? Cause if you are we can definitely leave it for tomorrow, or better said later, but I slept through the car ride so I'm not that tired anymore, but if you think–”

“Cut the fuckin’ rambling. Go to the point, short-legs.”

You sighed, fingers sliding through your hair and pulling it back. “If you want, he can revise this now. I think it's better if we do it together.”

You heard the intake of a deep breath, a relieved one, before he said, “Yeah… Okay. I'm on my way up.” The sound of the car's door closing confirmed he was on his way.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated and then ended the call.

It took you both three hours and just one heated discussion to come to terms with each of the items. Both satisfied with the consensual agreements, you brought out your laptop and rewrote it. You printed two copies, one for each, that you both signed. That's how the contract was ready and done. Now the next and final step would be the marriage in front of a judge. That Friday. In one day.

“We need two witnesses,” you reminded him, to which he grunted.

“Right, I forgot about that.”

“Well, we already know who you are picking…”

He pulled up an eyebrow, looking in your direction, “Huh? And who am I picking, know-it-all?”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “Izuku.”

He tched, not admitting it out loud, but it was obvious you were right.

You chose to let it be and not cause any banter, mostly because you definitely felt more tired than a few hours back.

“Smart-ass. Then who are you picking, mmh?”

You shrugged, “I don't know. I was thinking Mina,” his groan made you chuckle, “but I think Jirou would keep a low profile better.”

“Yeah, good thinking.” You nodded in agreement. You loved Mina, and you knew he did too, but she couldn't keep things down sometimes. And one of the items was to keep a low profile throughout the whole marriage thing. Bakugou hated the press and paparazzi, and you weren't a fan of them either. Even though you had never been the center of attention of them, you actually preferred to keep it that way. On the low and as invisible as possible.

Thursday went very quiet and chill, which was very surprising considering it was Dynamight's shift. Sometimes, villains made you think they had a particular masochistic side and loved appearing whenever Pro Hero Dynamight was around. Some of them even loved to provoke him on purpose so he would yell all those obscenities towards them. And they enjoyed it. Freaks.

But not that Thursday. It had been a very peaceful one. It even found you chatting with Bakugou through the earbuds.

“So what now, ya’ gonna fuckin’ tell me Endeavor is better than All Might?”

“Oh, shut up, you All Might-obsessed-freak! I will admit All Might was huge, but you can't deny Endeavor stood his ground and made big stuff too.”

“Like fuckin’ what?”

“The fight with the nomu–”

“HA! Please! That was child's play. All Might took down AFO.”

“Yeah. But it was Deku who won against him in the end, not him. And All Might only fought twice against AFO. Endeavor killed a powerful nomu.”

“You are so fuckin’ blind!”

“You are the blind one!”

“How could you say Endeavor is better than All Might?!”

“I did not say that!”

“Wait– then what did y–?”

“I just said, Endeavor was N° 1 too. He was a Hero too. He deserves a bit of recognition.”

You could hear Bakugou’s snort, “So you like them complicated and misunderstood…”

Bakugou’s malice in his teasing was palpable, yet you always had an answer for him.

“Well… What does that say about you?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!”

If you had been paying attention to your surroundings, you would have noticed all your co-workers smiling at your cute banter with Bakugou. Yet you were so invested in it, you didn't notice.

Conversations that also led to getting to know each other a little bit more also happened.

“I like orange. You?”

The question took you by surprise after almost half an hour of silence from both ends. Yet, it didn't surprise you at all his preference in color. It was kind of obvious.

“Figures. It doesn't surprise me at all–”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Mine is purple.”

“Why?”

“Ummm, I don't know. I always pictured that if I had become a Hero, my costume would be purple. I decided that even before I knew if I had a Quirk or not.”

You had said it in a conversational tone, never intended to make him feel some type of way. Yet, he still asked, “And is still your favorite, even after–”

“–after I found out I am quirkless? Yes. Why wouldn't it be?”

“Mmmh,” was his simple answer.

The shift ended peacefully and on time, which both of you were grateful for, considering what the following day was.

When the shift was over, you waited a considerate couple of minutes. Minutes it would take the heroes to come back from their shift to the company. Then, you got inside the elevator but instead of going down, you went one floor up.

Your phone rang with a notification.

Bakugou K.: You asked her yet?

You rolled your eyes. So impatient.

You: No, I'm about to. I'm on your floor.

Bakugou K.: Slow ass.

You still wanted to punch him, sometimes.

You put your phone back inside your bag as you walked towards the girls’ wing of the floor, completely avoiding even looking at the boys' wing way. You knocked two times before Ochako opened the door slightly to look who it was.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!”

“Y/N!”

“Hi!”

“Hello, Y/N.”

“HI BABY!!” 

All the girls present that shift greeted you cheerfully, especially Mina. You greeted back while entering the room and closing the door behind you.

You chatted with all of them here and there as they got changed, not an ounce of shyness between all of you. You were friends with almost all of them, having already worked with the majority of the girls and hung out with them many times. You knew almost all about them. Their sleep faces, their ugly cries, their drunk personalities. All of it. And they knew you too. That's why you didn't need to be subtle at all when you said, “I actually need to speak with Jirou for a moment”. Everyone understood and took it nicely as they hurried a bit their way into their clothes and grabbed their stuff before leaving you two alone. 

All of them knew you and Jirou had a special friendship, a close one. She was the one you always went to when you really needed to confide in someone with something deep within you. The same thing was for Jirou. You were actually the first one of all to know when Denki confessed his feelings to her, and even talked her through her own ‘secret’ feelings for him.

“What's up, buddy?” She straddled one of the benches and sat, patting the place in front of her for you to follow.

You sat in front of her crossing your legs under you, your bag actually forgotten on the floor down the bench.

“I'm going to tell you something, but I need you to keep an open mind and listen to it all before you say anything.”

She jerked her head back a bit, already feeling confused, “You're scaring me already.”

“You have no idea…” You sighed and began the tell-tale.

Her eyes kept opening wider and wider with each thing you told her about what had been happening with you and Bakugou these last days.

What it felt like probably an hour later, you finished with, “So, that's why… we are going to get married tomorrow.”

Jirou fastly stood up, almost jumping a few steps back, and pointed a finger at you.

“That's it! That's why you have been so civil to each other! I knew something was up with– WAIT,” oh yeah, you thought she hadn't quite listened to what you just said. But then it came, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! Y/N!! YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING.”

You shook your head, “No, I'm not.” The calmness and firm tone in which you answered made her sidetrack tons in her own reaction, as she sat back down in front of you and took your hands in hers.

“Honey, it isn't your obligation to do any of this. You know that, right?”

You smiled, the clear worry in Jirou's eyes warming your little heart. You had such a good friend.

“I do. But I want to do this. For him.” You were sincere, and you knew Jirou could see it in your eyes too.

“Even though you don’t like each other??”

“Even though we don’t like each other.”

You repeated, but your tone was decisive. Jirou looked at you silently for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

“Okay… Whatever you choose, I'm here for and with you.” Your arms immediately surrounded her neck in a hug. She returned it gladly, patting your back in reassurance. “And if he hurts you, just tell me. I'll make him pay.”

You laughed amusingly. “I know you will. But this isn't the only thing I'm here for.”

She groaned, “There's more?! I don't know how much my heart can take...”

“Well, will it survive if I ask you to be my witness tomorrow?”

Jirou's eyes filled with tears before it was her turn to surround your neck in a tight hug.

“I'll take that as a yes,” you both giggled, hugging each other tight.

Twenty minutes later you were both leaving the building of the company and you walked her towards the motorcycle parking lot where she had hers.

“I'll text you the location in the morning.”

“Alright, I can't wait for it!” She said excitedly, but then, she looked more intently at you. “I just want to say, this thing you're doing is beyond heroic. You're literally being a Hero right now.”

Her words touched something inside you that made you want to cry like a baby. Something so deep it made you feel like floating away with the harsh galloping your heart made against your chest. It didn't make sense, yet it actually did.

You gulped looking down at your feet, strongly holding back the cry that threatened to be released right in your throat.

“You need a ride back home?” She asked, completely ignoring –for your sake and out of respect– your glassy eyes.

“I'll take her home,” Bakugou's voice in the distance surprised both of you, yet you had been expecting something like this to happen. Something told you he would be waiting you after his shift.

Jirou looked at you waiting for your approval, and when you nodded, she put on her helmet and turned on her bike. You walked towards where Bakugou was standing with Jirou riding next to you, and when she was next to him, she said, “You better take care of my friend, or I'll come for your ass, don't care you're my friend too.”

Bakugou snorted, “I know you will, Ears.” He smiled, pulling down her face shield to annoy her. She punched him friendly on the shoulder before waving and driving away.

“She said yes then.”

You both began walking towards what you thought he had parked his car. “Yep. What did Izuku say?”

He rolled his eyes, “You know he said yes.”

You smiled, “I know, I was just being friendly and asked.”

“Smart-ass.”

“I am really going to punch you again, don't tempt me.”

“Yeah… If that one punch could be considered a punch, it would be ‘again’.”

“Oh, so you do want me to…”

You tried to reach his shoulder, but this time he was fast enough to dodge it expertly. “You really are slow, huh?” He mocked walking backwards and smirking.

“You want slow, asshole…”

He laughed, turning around and running away as you ran towards him trying to catch him.

He was a stupidly fast idiot.

So now, it is Friday, and you sit right next to Bakugou Katsuki. Both of you are in front of a judge who is officially marrying you. Jirou sits on your left, while Izuku sits on Bakugou's right. And you have just finished writing your signature where the bride's one goes. Bakugou has already signed his. It isn't until you put the pen down on the table that Bakugou stops bouncing his leg and breathes in deep.

You want to laugh, finding his nerves quite funny. But you get it. This means more than just marriage to him.

It's freedom.

And you can't even imagine how nerve-racking that must feel for him. After all these years that he had to follow his mother's command and will just so he could follow his own dream, now he would be free.

That in itself brings you such a happy feeling for him.

If anyone would have ever told you that you would be doing this for none other than Bakugou-annoying ass-Katsuki, you would have sent them to a psychiatrist. Immediately.

Fate is a strange thing.

After the turn for the witnesses to sign, the judge says boringly, “By the authority vested in me by the government of Tokyo, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

He doesn't even wait nor expect the newlyweds to kiss or exchange rings as he closes the book and gives Bakugou the previous enrollment you both signed.

And that is it. You are officially married to Bakugou Katsuki.

“Who are you with on today's shift? What time are you out?”

His questions make you come back to reality after a quiet drive toward the company in his car, which you spend looking at the golden ring that now adorns your left hand. When you look up, the shining of the golden ring on his left hand catches your attention as he circles the steering wheel so the car turns on a corner, the company appearing in your view in the distance.

“Umm, I'm with Izuku. If everything goes well, at 3 a.m.”

“Okay. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Bakugou, it’s okay, I can walk home,” you insist for the nth time.

“Bullshit–”

“–Besides, you have morning patrol tomorrow,” you continue, completely ignoring his dirty mouth, “You can’t interrupt your sleep like this every time I have this shift. You need to be awake for your job.”

He grunts, muttering something that you can’t quite decipher what he said. You roll your eyes, thinking he acts like a petulant child sometimes.

A moment later, Bakugou enters the parking lot with his car, to which you look confused at him. Why is he entering the company on his day off?

He answers even before you can articulate your words, “I need to pick up some unfinished reports I have to turn in tomorrow.”

You pull up an eyebrow, untying the seatbelt and getting out of his car once he finally parks, “Wow. Dynamight is lacking on his paperwork?”

“Shut up, short-legs.”

You snort at his lighthearted insult as you walk together inside the company. But right when you both cross the big doors, Bakugou stops and looks at you. You frown confused, he then motions down with his head and you see his hand open, waiting. Oh, right.

Item n°2: Act like we are in a real relationship. The lawyers for the companies always investigate deeper into each hero, so that their status and validation of mental sanity are correlated.

You put your hand over his, both closing on each other, its warmth making those damn tingles run up your arm. But neither of you says anything as you walk through the lobby of the company holding hands.

Everyone who looks opens their eyes wide, one of the receptionists even spills her coffee drink out of shock. You hold yourself from laughing. Another of the receptionists looks you up and down, a clear disgusted expression on her face. Ops. Well, it’s not like you liked her either.

However, both you and Bakugou walk with your heads held high. You know how shocking and out of character the image of you both holding hands like a couple looks. And fast, everything happened so fast. You can already hear the gossip about whatever this is that you might have with Bakugou is way too fast. But you haven’t done everything you did for them. It is for him. As surprising as that sounds, even for you.

He walks with you towards the clock where you have to mark your entrance, never dropping your hand as you do. Then, you walk together to the elevator waiting for it to arrive. As you wait and look down at your shoes, you feel before you actually see his other hand moving, fingers brushing against your ear when he tugs a strand of your hair that had been over your face. Surprised, you look up at him but still smile in thanks.

Bakugou retracts his hand quickly and puts it inside the pocket of his jacket, looking back at the elevator. You would tease him for the little blush his cheeks are showing, but you decide it’s not the moment, considering how all eyes are on you two.

When it arrives and you get in, standing very close to each other while watching how everyone tries to peep inside to see if you’re still holding hands or if anything else happens between you two, you both jolt a bit when a wild and hurried Izuku suddenly enters the elevator, jacket half off and hair disheveled. He also looks in surprise at you two, eyes traveling down at your connected hands. A shit-eating grin appears on his face as the doors of the elevator close.

“Shut up.”

Bakugou and you speak at the same time.

Izuku snorts, hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Wasn’t going to say anything…”

“I sense a ‘but’...” You roll your eyes, and Bakugou hums in agreement.

The greenette smiles wider, “But I understand now why everyone was looking like they saw All Might in person.”

Bakugou insults him, just because he always wants to have the final say, making Izuku laugh out loud amused. You decide to ignore both of them until the elevator arrives at your floor.

“Don’t blow up the elevator,” you warn them both after Izuku answers back at Bakugou, just to spite him. Your hand gives Bakugou one last squeeze in goodbye before walking out, “I’m with you today, Izuku.”

“Oh, cool! I’ll get connected in a bit.” You nod in his direction and look at Bakugou one last time, smiling and waving.

The doors close and you don’t get to see him smile back at you.

The shift, as always with Pro Hero Deku, is not calm or chill. It’s hectic and dangerous, and it keeps demanding all your focus and senses on alert.

“You know, sometimes I believe you have a magnet for trouble stuck up in your ass…” you hear Izuku spill the drink he must have been probably about to swallow. You chuckle devilishly. Wow, two times in a day you make someone spill their drink, that must be a record.

“Damn. Not twenty-four hours of being married to him, and you are already influenced.”

“Oh, shut it,” you both laugh amicably.

Again, the pip-ing of alert sounds in your computer. You sigh, “Deku, another threat five streets down where you’re at now.”

“On my way!”

“See? A magnet in your ass…” Izuku laughs.

You both don’t get to chat about another thing that is not your job again for the rest of the shift.

At exactly 3:10 a.m. you let out a tired sigh, stretching your arms above you and moving your body from side to side as gentle cracks sound from your backbone. After Deku pushes a villain inside a police car and looks at it drive away for a moment, his yawn that you hear through the earbuds passed on to you as you involuntarily copy the action.

“That was the last one. I’m going back,” you agree with him as you press the option on the system that notifies everyone on the shift that your hero is coming back to headquarters.

“Done.”

“Thanks, Y/N, great work today!”

“You did it all, buddy.”

“Oh, no! None of us heroes could do it without you. All of you, really.”

You frown, a bit surprised. I mean, Izuku is always polite and thanks you after every shift, but today feels different. Like he is purposely saying that, as if he knew someone important was listening to their connection.

“You are… welcome?” You actually don’t know what to say. He simply chuckles.

By orders from your area, you can't leave until Deku’s entered the company back again, so you use that time to finish gathering your things and closing the system.

“I'm back. Wait for me, Y/N. I'll take you home,” not longer than five minutes later Izuku says through the earbuds.

“Oh. You don't have–”

“Kacchan asked me to.”

His words shut you up. But he doesn't wait for your answer as he finally disconnects the communication. 

And you're left there, frozen for a moment, assimilating his words. Bakugou asked Izuku to take you home. He asked his best friend to take care of you, even when he knew Izuku would do it or offer on his own. Izuku always rode you home when you had night shifts together. Bakugou surely knows that. Then, why even mention it to his friend? Why personally ask Izuku to help you? Because… Bakugou didn't enter the company only for his unfinished paperwork. He did it to talk to Izuku. Was this… Bakugou taking care of you because you were married? Or because he wanted to?

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: Sex. Minors DNI. Also, barely proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 3.8k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 1, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Sorry it has taken me a while to get this part out. But I think you’ll like it. *fingers crossed* FULL TAGLIST TO FOLLOW. Sorry, I'm in a rush today. This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part 4.5 | Part Five | Masterlist

A fancy hotel takeout sits untouched on your kitchen counter, the smell of roasted garlic filling the small space. You glance at the clock—6:47 PM.

Yoongi promised to take you to dinner, but given the circumstances, a quiet night in felt more appropriate. Safer for him. After all, the media has been relentless since the Dispatch scandal dropped close to midnight like Cinderella’s kitten heel at the ball.

You’re kind of pissed, actually. Scratch that—you’re furious. Just when it felt like you finally had Yoongi—finally had the chance to explore whatever this was between you—this bullshit had to rear its ugly head. A photo of his kind of ex leaving his building was enough to set the internet on fire, and now it felt like the flames were creeping dangerously close to your life.

You’ve talked to him once today, and even that conversation was clipped. A text from him at 5 let you know he was about to leave HYBE and swing by his place first. “Be there by 7,” he’d said.

You stare at the pristine takeout containers, willing yourself not to spiral. You’re not that person anymore. You’re not the insecure girl who lets her emotions run wild over things she can’t control. You’ve done too much good work to let this unravel you.

“You’re fine. You’re fucking fine,” you mutter under your breath, pacing the kitchen.

Your phone vibrates on the counter. Namjoon. Always coming to your rescue at the right time.

“Hello?”

“You doin’ okay?” Namjoon asks, his voice calm but laced with concern.

“Define okay,” you quip, though your voice wavers slightly. “It’s been a lot.”

“I figured,” Namjoon says gently. “That’s why I’m calling. Just wanted to check in. Yoongi’s been swamped today, and I know how this stuff can mess with your head.”

You exhale slowly, grateful for the concern but also acutely aware of the simmering emotions just beneath the surface. “I’m trying, Joon. Really, I am. It’s just… exhausting. The waiting, the overthinking, the noise. I just want to know where I stand with him, you know?”

“He’ll tell you,” Namjoon assures you, his voice steady. “Just… don’t let the noise get to you.”

You swallow hard, his words striking a chord. “Thanks, Joon. Really.”

“Anytime,” he says warmly. “And hey, take it easy on him tonight, okay? He’s under a lot of pressure, but trust me, you’re his priority.”

“Will do, dad,” you tease, and for the first time all day, you feel a flicker of lightness.

“Bye.”

You set the phone down, Namjoon’s words lingering in your mind as you glance at the clock again. 

You think about Yoongi and the kind of pressure he must be feeling now. You can take care of him tonight. He deserves it.

You’re rearranging the pillows on the couch, trying not to glance at the clock again for the hundredth time. It’s not even about tidying the place anymore. It’s about occupying your hands, distracting yourself from the swirling mix of emotions in your chest.

Then, the doorbell rings.

7:01pm. 

You take a breath, smoothing your sweater. Calm. Casual. You’re fine.

You open the door.

And there he is. Yoongi stands in the dim light of the hallway, a dark jacket zipped up to his collarbone, a black mask shading his face, somehow directing the focus on the exhaustion in his eyes. But what caught your attention is his hair—slicked back with a little sprout of inky locks on top.

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking bashful at the heat in your gaze.

Christ. He looks good. Criminally.

He steps in. “Hi,” he says softly, his voice carrying that calm rasp you’ve missed.

Your heart clenches. “Hi,” you reply, your tone quieter than intended. You clear your throat, stepping back to let him in. “Come in.”

He steps inside, pausing in the entryway as he glances around. 

You then notice the bouquet in his hand—gorgeous white roses and baby’s breath wrapped in brown paper. 

He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes flick over your face. Something in your expression must’ve softened, because he quickly averts his gaze.

“I brought these,” he says, holding them out a little awkwardly.

Your chest tightens, a strange warmth spreading through you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

When you reach out to take the bouquet, your fingers graze his, and the contact lingers for just a second too long. Impulsively, your free hand rises to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s too much for whatever the hell this is between you, but the moment feels too honest to stop yourself.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

Yoongi freezes under your touch, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, as if the tension in his shoulders breaks all at once, he leans into your palm, just a fraction, and the smallest, most heartbreaking smile tugs at his lips as his eyes flutter close.

“I am now.”

You head to the kitchen, busying yourself with a vase to give the flowers the best chance to survive. You do not have a green thumb, so you pray to the gods the beautiful arrangement does not wither overnight.

“Hungry?” you ask, not turning around. “I bought chicken, shrimp fried rice, and some random banchan.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Yoongi replies, his voice closer than you expect. You glance back to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You place the vase on the counter and fold your arms. “So,” you start, forcing lightness into your tone. “Survived the day?”

“Barely,” he admits, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. “Had to dodge more cameras than usual. Sat in meetings for a couple of hours. Si-hyuk personally called Sung Kyung’s agency. They assured me that they will investigate thoroughly. I couldn’t eat. I get home and there’s still press camping out. So yeah, shit day and I almost didn’t make it out alive.”

“That’s the longest response I’ve ever gotten from you.” You tease. “You really must be stressed out.”

Yoongi chuckles and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been hanging over you both all day melts away. 

You go around the counter and stand facing him where he’s sitting on your bar stool. He parts his legs and you immediately take that space, crowding him a bit more by placing your hands tentatively on his shoulder.

His eyes, warm like molten chocolate, meet yours. “How about you?”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “I’m fine,” you say, though the tightness in your chest betrays you. “I mean, it’s not like this is new territory for you, right?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Yoongi says quietly. “And I don’t like that you’re sort of affected by it.”

“I can handle it,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel, projecting strength since he looks a little broken right now.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line, like he’s not entirely convinced. 

“I kinda knew what I was getting into when I knocked in your studio yesterday,” you say softly. “And I’d do it again. For you.”

His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face at your admission before it softens into something else. Something deeper. “For me?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Yeah. For you.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then he straightens up from his slouch, taking one of your hands from his shoulder, pressing his lips softly against your pulse point.

“Dinner first,” he says. 

“Then what?” you challenge.

Yoongi just grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

As you sip the last of your drink, you steel yourself to ask the question that’s been bugging you all day. “So,” you say finally, broaching the topic. “Sung Kyung.”

Yoongi pauses mid-bite, his eyes flicking to yours. He sets his chopsticks down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “What about her?”

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “Namjoon told me you’re co-parenting. But I need to hear where you two… stand?”

Yoongi exhales slowly. “Yeah, we’re co-parenting. That’s it. I don’t have any intention of getting back together with her. At all.” His voice is calm but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I want Haneul to know his biological mom, but she and I—we’re done. That’s been over.”

Relief washes over you, but before you can fully settle into it, you notice the shift in his expression. His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart briefly to the table before returning to yours.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly, the words heavy with hesitation.

Fuck. You don’t like the sound of it, but you ask anyway. “What is it?”

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “A few weeks ago… she kissed me.”

Your stomach twists, and the room feels suddenly colder. “What?”

“I put a stop to it immediately,” he says quickly, his tone insistent. “I told her it couldn’t happen again, that if she wanted to keep seeing Han, she had to respect that boundary. And she has. She knows where we stand.”

You don’t respond right away, staring down at your plate as you try to process his words. 

Oh my god. This is so fucked up. You knew Sung Kyung’s reappearance wasn’t as harmless as it seemed, but hearing it confirmed still stings.

“I just thought…” you start, but the words trail off.

Yoongi’s voice is soft but steady. “You have every right to be upset.”

“Do I?” You think out loud. “We’re not…” You nod slowly, pushing your chair back. “I… need a minute.”

When you get to your bathroom, you release a long steadying breath. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the counter tightly. Fuck. You’re okay. This is–

A knock sounds at the door, startling you.

Yoongi’s voice is muffled as he says your name, but it’s gentle as can be. “Can I come in?”

You glance at the lock and realize, too late, that you forgot to turn it. The door creaks open, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and something softer.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him and his arms immediately slide around your waist. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, and you meet his gaze through the mirror.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You lean back against him, the tension in your shoulders easing but just slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“That’s fair,” he presses his lips to your temple. 

“But I need you to know–” presses another on your cheek.

“That I don’t want anyone else–” presses the last where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Just you.”

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice, and when your eyes meet again in the mirror, the tenderness there leaves you so breathless.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you turn in his arms, your hands sliding up to his face as you pull him down for a kiss. His fingers tighten on your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

You walk back to your bed, lips fused with his, your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. The urgency between you grows as you push him down onto the mattress, his back hitting the sheets with a quiet thud. You follow immediately, straddling him, your body molding against his as you capture his lips again. The kiss is deep, consuming, his hands gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

You stay like that for a while, tongues teasing, breaths mingling, drunk in the taste of each other. Then, a sharp pull of his lower lip between your teeth has him groaning into your mouth.

You’re driven by lust, and something else. A possessive demon seems to be overriding your better judgment, thinking you’ve been timid with your feelings for long enough. No woman, not Sung Kyung, even if he is Han’s mom, can take what you and Yoongi have been building up to for so damn long.

“You’re in your head,” Yoongi says, nudging his nose against yours.

“Did she kiss you like this, huh?” The words leave you before you can stop them. Your lips return to his, sucking greedily, staking your claim.

Yoongi’s breath shudders as you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, baby.” His voice is rough, lips pink and swollen.

Your fingers slide under his shirt, pushing the fabric up and over his head, tossing it aside before your hands explore the newly exposed skin. He’s warm, toned beneath your touch, and the way his muscles tense under your fingertips only spurs you further. You lean down, lips dragging along his jawline, open-mouthed kisses trailing down his throat. He tastes sweet, salty, and entirely intoxicating.

“Did you fuck anyone else when I left?” you mumble against his skin, your teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

His breath hitches, “No, shit. No.”

“Good boy.” You hum in satisfaction, your lips venturing lower, your tongue flicking against the hollow of his throat. He groans, head pressing back into the pillow.

“Baby, you’re making me lose my shit right now,” he grits out, his voice strained, desperate. His hands now get braver, sliding underneath your top to fondle your tits. 

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe you’re too turned on to think straight. Or maybe—maybe this is exactly what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him again.

Your hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of his hard length through his trousers, feeling the way he twitches under your palm. 

“You’re mine, okay?” you whisper, nipping at his bottom plush as your fingers give his dick a squeeze.

He exhales a shaky laugh, his lips curving under yours. “Yours.”

He lets you revel in your greed for a few moments, allowing you to do whatever you pleased as you lose yourself in the heat building between you.

He ruts up towards your hand, grunting slightly. Honestly, he’s so hard, it’d be a mercy to release him from the confines of his jeans. So you do, helping him unbutton, unzip, and undress, until his cock springs free and flops on his stomach.

What a pretty dick. Literally lickable—solid, girthy, veiny, a bead of white pooling at the slit. You take him in your mouth, tracing the tip with your tongue, the taste of pre-cum coating your throat. You let drool cascade down his length, slick fingers pumping his shaft while your mouth suctions his mushroom head.

His hand goes to the back of your neck, guiding you in a bit more. “Mmm… that’s it, baby.” 

Yoongi moans your name as you go faster. You feel him twitching inside your mouth. He’s so hard but you don’t want him to cum yet. You pop him off to lap at the base, before your tongue travels upward to trace the thick veins on the underside of his cock. 

Jaw slack, his eyes are dark, dark as he observes you while propped up on his elbows. “Come up,” he says when you reluctantly pull away. “Wanna eat you out.”

Your clothes are yanked off your body as you take his place on the cushions, not a single piece of fabric now separating your skin. He takes you by the hip and adjusts your position so he can get his face close to your mound. Before you can mentally prepare yourself, he shoves his hot tongue against your folds, locating your clit in 0.001 seconds and you know you’ll be careening off a cliff in no time.

“I—Yoongi, that’s… shit that’s nice.” You can’t help it. It does feel nice.

You reach for the little ponytail on his head, gripping it for dear life. He hums against your bud when you pull, the vibrations only driving you more insane.

“You taste so good baby,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“I can eat you out for days, make you cum,” he vows, delirious just like you are. “Over and over… my favorite fuckin’ snack.” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi…”

He feasts, and feasts, and soon enough, you’re shuddering in ecstasy, hips bucking in the process, as he slurps all you give him. He wears your cum like a gloss as he comes up for air, a lazy but proud smile on his face.

You reach for the drawer on your nightstand and pull out a new, sealed, and unopened box of condoms shoving it on his chest. He holds it in one hand, nose scrunching as he suppresses a laugh.

“Someone prepared…”

You shrug as he plucks one and unwraps it quickly, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re too cute for me.”

“Shut uppp.”

He rolls the condom on his dick, propping one hand by the side of your face as he uses the other to rub his blunt tip against your entrance. Your pussy is drenched and he slips right in and bottoms out with a grunt against your ear. He’s thick and big against your walls.

A smack against your ass cheeks makes you clench. “Ah, shit.” And another one lands before he soothes it with a gentle massage. 

You’re going crazy but you need him deeper. Sensing your needs, Yoongi pushes the back of your knees higher and snaps his hips with more force, pounding your pussy as your bed creaks against the wall. Your lids are heavy but you keep your eyes open long enough to see how fucked out he looks, cheeks flushed pink with a coat of sheen on his forehead, teeth caging his lower lip.

“You’re so hot. I wanna ride you,” you declare, stuttering a bit from his thrusts.

“Yeah?” He pants, slows the roll of his hips, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you nod, he slips off with a wince and you feel your juices trickle down your skin. You reverse positions, mattress dipping as you shift your knees on each side of his hips. 

“Do your thing, baby,” he urges, lacing his fingers behind his head, elbows bent outward in a relaxed pose.

Your smile is watery as you use his tip to prod against your clit one or twice before you sink him inside your wet heat. You moan in unison when you're fully seated, the feeling of him snug and warm and so full inside you driving you mad.

You tip your head back, palms planted against his chest as you swivel your hips in a slow dance. 

You look down on him, hair cascading over your shoulder, and you think how much you like this view. And how you won't mind this view everyday, actually. Seems the possessive streak from earlier still has not satiated. 

“Shit—you’re so hot like this.” 

You rock against him, clit stimulated deliciously as you ride his cock. He’s got a cocky little grin as you use him. You throw your ass back, and he has a front row seat and VIP access to your bouncing tits, his tongue slack on the side of his lips. He cups your tits with both hands, the wet pads of his thumbs rubbing against your nipples.

“My turn,” he grabs hold of your waist and thrusts upward so roughly your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He pistons into you, finger digging on your skin to keep you in place and a long moan rips from your throat when he jerks up particularly hard.

Your hands slip to his shoulder as your body bounces by the force of his movements, tits sliding against his chest. His thighs must be burning and when he slightly lets up, you dip your head, shamelessly to lick the side of his face, moaning his name against his ear. 

“Baby—” you beg, not really saying what you need, but he knows.

He uses a sweaty hand to guide a tit in his mouth, suckling at it with a bit of teeth. 

Not a moment later, he’s fucking you again from below, deeper, faster, and when rapidly presses into your sweet spot, you’re a goner.

“I’m close, Yoongi. So close…”

“Me too, baby,” his voice is rough as he lets go of your bruised nipple, brows furrowed in concentration like he is fully intent to give you the orgasm of your life. He pushes into your depth relentlessly, 

White hot heat is blooming inside you, and you feel his cock throb, abs tightening, before he spills his seed in the condom, groaning with his eyes shut to savor the intensity of his release. It’s the pure unadulterated pleasure painted on his face and his deep delicious moan that tips you over the edge, too, clenching against his solidness as you slip into the sinful pleasure of your orgasm.

Chest to chest, you rest your full weight against him, softening dick still nestled inside you. You press your lips against his neck, feeling the vibrations of his throaty chuckle. Then he asks, “Was it good?”

“So good.”

“Mm.” He hums, nosing the side of your face so you’d look at him. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

“Which one?”

“That you, uh, despite everything, you’d do it again, for me.”

You start to feel a bit shy, but then you remember you’re literally naked. On top of him. And he is still inside you. The point of bashfulness is long past. It’s time for the truth. “Yeah.”

“Bold of you, no?”

“Dumb, too.”

He pushes an errant hair behind your ear, eyes still glazed from the sex, but fond. “You know I really like you, right? If it isn’t painfully obvious.”

“Me too, Yoongi. Since Stan. Maybe even earlier.”

“Will you be my girl, then?”

Yoongi watches you carefully, waiting for your response. The earnest curve of his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, the way his fingers still rest on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away—it’s all so achingly real.

You study him for a moment, letting yourself take it in. Everything about him—his caring nature, his tenderness, his immense love for Han, his ability to drive you absolutely insane and still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The outside world is still in chaos. The scandal, the noise, the questions that neither of you have all the answers to yet. But here, in your little apartment, wrapped in the warmth of him, none of that feels as important as this.

“I will,” you finally say, voice steady.

His breath catches, just for a second. Then, his lips spread into the softest, gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, almost like he’s making sure he heard you right.

You nod, “Yeah.”

Your lips meet for a gentle kiss that feels like a promise and the rest of the world falls away. For now, no matter what comes next, it’s the two of you—finally honest, finally sure, and finally together.

:]

A/N: YASSSS. Our babies have finally figured it out. How do you feel right now? Would love to hear your comments! 

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! Xo

P.S. Am gunning for 1,000 followers before Yoongi’s birthday. :) I think I’ll get there with your help. Feel free to reblog the story if you like, and that can help more people find our lovely L&L couple.

Love you!~

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

[riniwe]

ears and tails — JING YUAN

as one of the head alchemist of the alchemy commission, you were often sought by the higher-ups, especially jing yuan. and like most days, instead of the vidyadhara physician, he has called for you in his office instead…

you thought it was just another silly game he was playing, however, by the looks of it, with lion ears and tail that swayed side by side behind him, it was definitely not. you sighed, brows furrowed due to the added stress from the general’s rare clumsiness. “i know your schedule and work is already packed as it is… but seriously?”

he could only let out a small giggle as he looked up at you from his position— sat on the floor with both his hands on his thighs— like a child being scolded by their parents. “you understand how hard it is as a general,” he said and cheekily smiled. so he still has it on him to cheekily smiled about his situation, where he ended up drinking the potion beside the coffee an attendee brought him.

why was there even a potion beside it?

probably from an expedition. you simply rolled your eyes and didn’t think hard about it. you understood him well, so you don’t think you can scold him like this… but maybe you can scold him another way.

—

“p-please… my dove… ‘s too much,” he gasped, his tail wrapped around your leg as you bounced up and down on his cock, angled perfectly on your prostrate.

you had forced him to wear binds on his wrist behind his back and a cock ring, edging him while your hole squeezed around him. your hands were placed on his chest, stabilizing yourself as your eyes rolled back from the pleasure whenever his cock would hit the spot.

you didn’t care for his pleasure, simply yours. your teeth had crushed the skin on your bottom lip from all the biting in an attempt to silence the moans and whimpers you two would let out, but now it’s nearly impossible to hold back from the pleasure at all.

“want to touch… want to cum,” he begged, eyes swelling with tears as he looked up at you. you glare down, mouth agape as drool escaped your lips. he’s been begging the entire time, but the cock ring has barely been on for ten.

well, it’s just the cock ring… you’ll be a dear then. after all, he’s been twitching inside for a while and you can’t help yourself from wanting to be filled. so, you halt your movements and lift your hips, his cock slipping out, making him whimper.

“if you cum, i’m putting it back on.” you threatened before pulling the ring out. once you did, a loud moan escaped him. fortunately he didn’t cum.

he doesn’t think he can bear the consequences.

you immediately slammed yourselves down on him, walls clenching and that alone made him spill all over your insides, making you moan. “crap..!” he hissed, the binds snapping in two. your eyes widen and you were about to speak when his tail moved to your waist and both his hands lifted you up, slipping you from his cock and manhandling you on your back against his desk.

“jing yuan-“ you tried to say, but he immediately slammed into you, going at it like a wild animal in heat. you couldn’t say anything further, just moans and whimpers. your nails scratched the desk, afraid of holding onto jing yuan and hurting him. you’ll have to trim your nails after this.

his hips snapped against yours and soon, you were feeling that delicious build up of pleasure in your stomach. “‘m cummin’! jing- ah! yuan! i’m cumminggg!…” you moaned out.

“mghh… me too. i’m close,” he groaned and your legs wrapped around him, his hands moving to place themselves on each side of your body, nuzzling his head on your neck.

soon, you two were cumming. his cock spilled another loads of seed inside you and your cock spurted out cum on yours and jing yuan’s stomach, creating a mess. you two panted, trying to catch each other’s breath before jing yuan lifted his body and pulled his cock out, the cum following after and dripping out your loose hole. the sight was enough to give him another hard on, his tail making its way on your thigh.

however, you stop him, your feet pressing against his cock. “calm your monster down, this was supposed to be a punishment,” you grunted and attempted to stand up, only for your legs to give out. jing yuan hastily caught you in his arms, a giggle escaping his lips.

“right… i’m sorry, my dove. i got a little needy,” he said, his hands wrapping around you. you rolled your eyes at that and nuzzled your head on his chest.

“can you use your tail to fuck me next time?”

“…pardon… me?”

[biteyoubiteme]

I've got you

taehyun x fem!reader warnings: 🔞!!! established relationship, clit play, strength kink, no protection, creampie, prob forgot some sorry wc: 2.5k an: this was requested by the lovely @luvsicktyun ily you always know what I need to write next >< I hope you like it :)) not proofread forgive me pls pls pls [m.list]

Your hand was steady on the wall, cold and firm as you shook your head, “No, I can't let go,” taehyun had heard the persistent denial to never release the barrier the second you had held on. Legs trembling and arms wide as soon as you stepped on the ice. You hadn't even fallen but the stumble after hitting one little dip had been enough to scare you into place now. 

“I've got you,” his voice was a smooth balm of reassurance over your twisted fear and yet you held your ground. “This was a horrible idea, you proved your point, it is more than just skating around and chasing a puck, its precision,” it had been the word taehyun had brought up in defense of your mindless teasing. 

And it wasn't as if you didn't appreciate the sport. You had spent countless hours sitting right up in the bleachers a few steps away. Watching Tae as he went around the rink for practice. The loud ring of the coach's whistle making it past your headphones time and time again pulling your gaze up from your book like a direct call to catch sight of your boyfriend.  You knew the sport was hard, knew it took skill, and work outside and on the ice but it hadn’t hit you until that very second that even the basics would feel this difficult. 

“You didn't even fall,” he was giggling at you, dimple on his cheek a single point for you to focus your pout on. 

“Don't laugh,” but it was hard not to feel your own chuckle bubbling up to follow his. 

“I'm not,” his lips sealing as he tried and failed to rid himself of his smile. “You just hate that you're not instantly good at something, come on just one more try, I won't even let go,” he had kept one hand close to you the entire time the two of you had been out on the empty rink. Even your almost fall had been guarded by the faint heat coming from Taehyun'spalm waiting at your waist. Now with him crowding your back, guiding you with his gentle hold on your hands there was little excuse as to why you shouldn't let him lead you. 

“Okay…” there was still the faint fragility hidden in your voice as you let go of the wall, lined with the scratched plexiglass meant to protect those sitting around the bleachers from a flying puck. You had never wanted to venture out this far onto the ice, waiting right out of the gate once practice was over was fine enough. But Taehyun had talked about taking you out to learn to skate even before the two of you started to date officially. Even that first night when the two of you had met, your confession of never having even been in a building holding a rink still fresh between the two of you when he let the words fall, I could teach you to skate. He had been just as captivating then, head slightly tilted as if tuning out the rest of the room, his sole focus on you as he blinked, eyes falling to your mouth only long enough for you to notice the butterflies blooming in your belly. 

You had made a promise that night in agreement, flippantly and now regrettably as you felt your left foot slip out from under you. But Taehyun did not let you fall, his hold unmoving as he righted your movements before you could reach for the wall for comfort again. The two of you shouldn't have even been on the ice, the extra skates left on the counter, cleaned, and pulling the two of you to the ice without a second thought. But your skirt did not provide any cover if you fell, the ice unforgiving enough to leave half the team with bruises from their ankles to their chin, although taehyun reminds you that they get the injuries from playing not skating around the rink a few times.

“See one foot after the other, just glide,” taehyun keeps his stance wide enough so that he can demonstrate what foot should go next, the perfect mirror as he pushes off helping you finally make it even just a few feet from where you had entered on the ice. “Look at that, you're a natural, sweetheart,” but you're still holding onto his hands in a way that tells him he won't be able to pry you free. 

It had taken a bit of convincing to even have you slip the skates on, him getting down to one knee, patting his thigh as the final say-so. You had obliged, letting him tie the skates on tight enough to keep your ankles secured and help you wattle out to the ice. And once you got the hang of the easy motions without feeling as if you were going to fall, Taehyun switched to skating backward in front of you. His hands in yours, warm thumbs brushing over your knuckles as a silent reminder that he wouldn't let you fall if he could help it. 

But you were doing better, confidence built after the single lap you had made around half in his arms and half just like this but taehyun was loosening his grip, “you've got it, I know you can do it, sweetheart,” his encouragement giving you enough strength to finally let go. For a second it feels like you will fall, stomach turning for as long as it takes you to stabilize yourself, arms wide on either side of you as you look up at taehyun and his proud grin. 

“I did it!” your voice is dipped in disbelief, even if you're hardly moving, standing there frozen in the middle of the rink. And it's worth the slight fear when Taehyun is looking at you like that, caught there with his smile, his happiness funneling into you. It had taken a lot to get you to find your footing, gliding in the same strokes that he had shown you. 

You're skating was not perfect, Taehyun watched the way you didn't push off until you were done letting the ice drift you to a stop like a little baby deer on a lake iced over for the winter. Your face heated from the blood rushing to warm your features, your fingers numb and trying to find heat in Taehyun's grasp when the two of you finally started to make it back off the ice.

It started innocently, your foot resting right on his thigh as he helped to undo the tight laces he had done up, his hand staying right on your calf finger lightly tracing patterns on your skin like he had all day to spend right there in the locker room. You were leaning back on your hands looking down at him when he tilted his chin, “You know I always hated how we had to drive all the way home after a game before I could finally fuck you,” 

There was a stutter in your breathing, your knees only slightly pulling in together like the anticipation of his next move made you react without a second thought. The sight of the movement was right on the edge of his vision, his grin loose enough to tell you his intentions with the comment. He let his fingers slip up your leg, finding the warm skin on your thigh even more enticing when it's just under your skirt. “I told you we can always pull over,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper. 

“Hum,” he shrugged as if he was taking in the suggestion for review, fingers going higher and higher, right until you could just feel the ghost of his touch warm against your panties, “but I know myself, I need space to make sure I have room to get my girl off just right,” it's the last thing he says before you're gasping, the pad of his thumb pressed right over your clothed clit, rubbing soft circles just to watch the way your brows scrunch in a soft pout, knees pulling in to trap his hand right in place.

“Tae-” You didn't want him to stop, but your eyes instantly flicked to the door behind him, the two of you shouldn't have even been here this late, any of the roaming staff could walk in to find you falling apart right here with only his fingers. 

“Worried? We only have the one door in and if we block it the only thing we would have to be mindful of is the noise,” he says it right on the edge of your whine, the sound rising in your throat the second he picked up a faster pace on your clit, fingers slipping along the wetness building up. “But you'll be quiet, won't you sweetheart?” 

You nodded, chin dipping enough so that he knew you would comply with anything that he said especially when he wastouching you like this. It was enough so that he pulled the two of you up, hands all over you, desperately pulling you closer for a kiss. Fervent as if it was the first time, stumbling as you threaded your fingers through his hair. Taehyun pressed you against the door, hips locking you in place as he pressed sloppy kisses down your neck. “You're already so hard for me,” voice pierced through with a bit of teasing, his hand running down the curve of your ass to hook your thigh in his grasp, hiking your leg up to open you wide enough to grind his hard bulge right against your soaked panties. 

The vibration of his humming response was pressed right to your pulse point, “I can't help it,”  the words less of a confession and more of a statement, because he had made it clear time and time again how easy it was to pull a reaction from him when it came to you. Hard after nothing but a single thought and there on his knees he had the smallest glimpse of the white fabric outlining your cunt, there was no going back now, not when you were grinding back chasing the friction of him. 

It was easy for him to slip his free hand down between the two of you, pushing your panties aside and soaking in the way your body trembled at the brush of his warm fingers back on your clit. All talk of being quiet fell from your mind the second he started to drag his fingers through your slick folds, your soft moan echoing in the empty locker room. “Tell me you need me just as bad,” his kisses leading from your jaw right back to your mouth, your response caught right on the edge of his mouth, “please… I need you,” 

You whimpered when he pulled his hand away from the slow circles he had been tracing against your clit, his hand fumbling with the button of his jeans, zipping the zipper down to tug himself free from the fabric. Your arms wrap around his neck, your breathing shallow as you watch him pump slow strokes along his cock, flush and already leaking pre-cum. The sight alone made you clench around nothing, aching to have him as close as you could possibly get him. His fingers on your thigh dug into your skin as he muttered, “Jump,” 

It was a simple enough command, his hold unwavering just as it had been on the ice, his hands cupping your ass as you leaned your back against the door behind you now effectively pinned in place by taehyun. He had always been strong, bands of muscle lining his arms, no strain of effort written across his brow, not when he was focused on lifting you just right so that he could run the tip of his cock between your slick folds, relishing in your soft mewls as he just barely breached your entrance. 

The room is a chorus of both of your moans as he lowers you on his cock, your body sinking all the way down, the back of your knees fitting perfectly against the pit of his elbows, fingers digging into your ass in a near bruising hold. The angle pushing him in deep enough to make your lashes flutter, arms tightening, nails scratching along his scalp as you tug his hair. He leaned in close, capturing your mouth only to find himself groaning against your lips as he found the perfect steady pace to rock his hips to. 

He wouldn't care if anyone did hear the two of you, not when he was this lost in the feeling of your cunt squeezing him enough to make his mind lose itself to the feeling, hips having a mind of their own as he picks up his pace. “You feel so fucking perfect,” the words swallowed in the mix of your kisses, his mouth hot as he leans to press his face into the crook of your neck, the sounds of your bodies meeting coating the air. 

You could feel the build up of your orgasm in your stomach, every stroke of his hips snapping against yours tightening the ball of your sanity until it was ready to burst. “I'm close Tae- I'm so-” you were gasping, his cock twitching as his thrust turned sloppy at your words. He was always so in tune with your body, knowing you were close, knowing it was him thatwas bringing you closer to the edge was enough to carry him right to that cliff with you. 

“I've got you, sweetheart,” his open-mouthed kisses leading right up to your ear, “I need to feel you finish on my cock, please,” it was the ribbon of desperation tied around the final word that pushed you over the edge, back arching as you let your head roll, your moans leaving you as if he knew the exact way to pull them free. Your fluttering cunt triggered his orgasm, his hips jerking, husky moans now drawn out and rumbling in his chest as he spills ropes of his cum into you without care. Every slow drag of his cock only made you tremble from the sensitivity as he let the two of you ride out your high. 

You knew the second he tried to put you down your legs would feel wobbly, your arms tightening around him as if mentally preparing yourself for the struggle. “Careful I might topple over if you put me down,” 

His chuckle was followed by a peppering of kisses along your cheek, his softening cock pulling out of you before he helped you put one leg to the ground, moving your panties back into place so that the mess he had made of you wouldn'tspill. “I could just carry you all the way to the car,” he let you lean on him, your knees just as weak as you knew they would be, thighs shaking as he softly kissed the edge of your smile, “lay you down in the backseat and see how much more room there is to ruin you back there than in the front,” 

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[buckyalpine]

Winter soldier x reader ft sex pollen

Unhinged winter soldier with sex pollen. This is wildly inappropriate (with some fluff?...) but I thought of it so you must all suffer with me. Imagine Hydra filling the room with sex pollen immediately after Buck is wiped, sending him out at in his most feral state in hopes that the winter soldier will lose control and give into the urges they've forced into him. They need him to breed another super soldier since they were unable to replicate the serum in his veins.

As soon as the dust fills the room, his pupils dilate, his tac suit far too hot, his veins pumping so hard they feel like they're going to burst. The straps holding him down release and his chest is heaving, trying to calm down the primal needs hes feeling, pain prickling his skin the longer he stays in the room. He grunts, striding out of the room and into the night, chasing a craving he has to get out.

He moves without a soul detecting him, until a sweet scent catches his attention. Floral, natural, innocent. Fertile. He's suddenly hyper focused on the thing his body is screaming for, following the unsuspecting woman, his teeth grinding through the pain. She enters a building and he observes each window before seeing a lights turn on, her nude silhouette appearing through the curtains.

It takes no effort for him to climb up the fire escape, easily prying the locked window open only to be met with the sound of the shower running. Her scent permeates all his senses and he nearly strips off all his clothes then and there, the pollen causing lust that makes his bones ache. The water shuts off and hes waiting like a predator waiting for its prey, sitting perfectly still while the door clicks open. She gasps and freezes in place and he sight alone makes him growl.

Pathetic little bunny.

"Who-who are you" she whispers, clutching her towel tightly together though it's not like she didn't know. Tears fill her eyes seeing the deadly soldier people spoke about, unsure if he even existed, the very rumor now sitting on her bed. He doesn't anything, groaning at the feeling of his arousal steadily dripping from his cock, palming his erection.

"Please-don't" She shakes her head, seeing his hardness pressing against his pants, his large presence suffocating because she knows there's no where to run. He slips his mask off, revealing his dangerously handsome face, his eyes wild with lust and need.

"But I have to" He grits out, stalking over to her and grabbing her by the waist, burying his nose in her freshly washed hair, deeply groaning at the scent of her bodywash, "mne eto nuzhno, zayka" [I need this, bunny]

"No-I-I'll do anything-" She trembles, squeezing her eyes shut feeling his warm wet tongue lick up her neck as his mismatched hands rip her towel away, pulling her hips flush against his cock. The rough material of his tactical hear scratches her soft skin, making her whimper when when he bites her shoulder.

"takoy myagkiy krolik" [such a soft bunny] He throws her like a doll, her ass bouncing off the mattress, flat on her back back while he undoes his pants, pulling his cock out. She squeezes her legs shut, shaking her head, his fat bobbing length taunting her as he pumps himself while crawling onto the bed.

"It hurts bunny" He groans, forcing her legs apart, her natural scent nearly causing pain as he stares at her pussy. Her button between her legs involuntarily twitches and he pinches it hard making her squeal, the sound causing a drop of precum to spill out.

His head is so focused on getting his release, he doesn't bother prepping her, shoving his cock into her tight cunt, grunting and forcing his length in when he feels resistance. He stars to fuck her hard, holding both wrists in his metal hand, keeping her pinned under him while he splits her open.

"Hurts-too much-to big-stop-" She gasps out her pained cries melting into muddled moans of pleasure, her own body betraying her, feeling her own warmth wetting his cock making it easier for him to slip in and out. "Oh god-soldat-stop-don't-

"You're wet" He hisses, almost accusatorily, pounding her harder, faster until the bed shakes and scratches the floor, the serum pumping in his veins making his cock sensitive.

"I need this-I need it" Sweat beads at his forehead, his balls feeling heavier than usual, the pollen causing his body to produce more semen than he naturally would.

"YA chuvstvuyu zapakh, kakoy ty mokryy, zayka" [I can smell how wet you are bunny] His balls throb painfully, his cock ready to burst as his thrusts become more erratic. He snarled against her neck as pleasure starts to lick up his spine, the bruising grip on her wrists tightening as he starts to pump her full of his load without warning.

She whimpers feeling shame for the delicious stretch of his cock, her cunt fluttering, swollen from his abusive pace. She finds herself flipped over with her ass in the air, her face pressed against the sheets, his cock rock hard again, prodding at her puffy folds.

"Not done-need more" he growls lowly, stripping his clothes off, his body heat dialed to 100. His crotch is covered in cum, a mix of his and hers, the smell of her driving him insane as he grabs her hips and slams her to meet his thrusts again. He has more power at this angle, fucking her like a mad man, groaning with his head thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of his head, only focused on pleasuring his cock.

"Ty shlyukha Zimnego soldata, ty voz'mesh' to, chto ya tebe dayu" [You're the winter soldier's whore, you'll take what I give you] He's at his most unhinged, grunting and groaning, fucking her like an animal, her muffled screams only causing his cock to swell more. "Make me feel good, make it go away bunny"

"Soldat please stop-too big" she begs and he fucks her harder, making her moan, pulling another orgasm out of her body even if she fought against it. His thighs meet the back of hers, rolling and rocking his hips, hitting her cervix until her sweet juices squirt out of her, obscene sounds of skin on skin filling he room. "SOLDAT"

"I have to breed you bunny" He shakes his head, unwilling to leave until he's sure she's pregnant with his child, forcing every bit of his cum into her. "My fertile little bunny" He nips your skin, running his hands over her tummy, imaging it firm and round with his baby growing inside. He loved the thought of such an unsuspecting, sweet angel carrying the child of he soldier, all of his cum making a mess in her pussy.

By the last round, the pollen has started to dissipate and the cloud is lifting. He pants, still rutting into her pussy, something tugging at his conscious, shaking his head when the lusty animalistic haze weavers.

"T-tell me your name" He rasps, his heart beating wildly, loosening his grip on her. She whimpers from pain and to her surprise, he slowly down, still grinding himself in, burying her face into her neck. "zayka, pozhaluysta" [bunny, please]

"Y/n" she whispers, unsure of why she told him, her voice catching in her throat when his lips press against her skin. She's limp in his hold, the smell of sex permeating the room, the sheets soaked with his cum, but nothing more full than her cunt.

"Y/n" He moans, his body trembling as he nears the end of his final release, stilling till he's milked himself dry, her soft body worn under him. Something is wrong, he can feel it, the emotionless control he had before, slipping from his grasp. He yearns to hold the woman in his arms but he can't .Something stops him.

His movements are robotic as he pulls away and slips his clothes back on, memories unfamiliar to him flashing through his mind.

He wasn't the soldier.

He was-

Her soft snores pull her from his spiral, looking up to seeing her sleeping form, fucked out from the way he'd ruined her. He frowns at the unfamiliar feeling of concern he's experiencing, pulling the covers over her body.

"Thank you bunny" He whispers, making her whine in her sleep, calling for the soldier.

"I'm-

He shakes his head, his previously wild replaced with those of a young man from Brooklyn.

"B-Bucky"

-

[wendichester]

can you do one where like one day Sam and Dean are on a hunt and are hunting hellhounds and Dean and the reader have always been flirty with one and other and have a little fling going on and they are in a abandoned town and they are walking around and here hellhounds and run and are shotting at them and then dean gets tackled by one and the reader shoots at the hellhound but then she gets tackled and scratched by one and cries out and Dean goes and he picks her up and carrys her into a abandon store and Sam follows. like this is kinda like season 5 episode 10 when jo gets bit by one can you like base it off that please I love your writing sorry this is so long

｡𖦹°‧ abandon all hope,

summary. getting surrounded by hellhounds is never a fun experience. especially when they get you good.

pairing. dean winchester x reader ft. sammy genre. angsty

wordcount. 710

warnings. blood, fighting, just a mess really

The town is dead. Silent. Nothing but the sound of wind whistling through shattered windows and the crunch of gravel beneath your boots. You grip your shotgun tighter, every nerve in your body wired, on edge. Dean walks a few steps ahead, his own weapon at the ready, casting you a sideways glance with that signature smirk.

“You scared, sweetheart?” he teases, voice low and gravelly in the thick night air.

You roll your eyes, though your stomach flutters anyway. “Please. I can handle a few oversized mutts.”

Dean chuckles, but the humor doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You both know what’s out there. Hellhounds are fast, brutal, and invisible unless you’ve got the right kind of sight. Right now, all you can rely on are your ears and instincts.

Sam, a few feet away, grips his own weapon, scanning the darkened street. “Stay sharp. They could be anywhere.”

The three of you press on, weaving through the abandoned town. Streetlights flicker weakly, casting eerie shadows on crumbling brick buildings. Then, just as you turn a corner—

A low, guttural growl vibrates through the air.

You freeze.

The hair on the back of your neck stands up.

Dean barely has time to curse before the sound of claws scraping pavement erupts behind you. You don’t hesitate—you fire a round blindly in the direction of the noise. Sam does the same. The hounds snarl, circling, fast and unseen.

“Run!” Dean shouts.

You don’t need to be told twice. The three of you bolt, feet pounding against cracked pavement. The hellhounds are right behind you, their growls echoing in your ears, impossibly close. You reach the old town square, darting between rusted-out cars, desperate to find some kind of cover. But the hounds are relentless.

Then Dean is yanked back.

You hear his strangled shout before you even see him go down. A hellhound has tackled him, its claws raking across his chest. His shotgun clatters to the ground. He grits his teeth, straining against the weight, struggling to push the beast off.

“Dean!”

You don’t hesitate. Raising your weapon, you aim just past his shoulder and fire. The hellhound howls in pain, its weight lifting just enough for Dean to shove it off. He scrambles up, but before relief can settle, you hear it.

Another growl.

Too late.

A force slams into you like a freight train. You hit the pavement hard, the wind knocked out of you, your gun flying from your grasp. Claws dig into your side, hot pain slicing through you. You scream, thrashing against the weight, trying to push it off, but the pressure is unbearable.

And then, just as suddenly as it came, the weight is gone.

You barely register the gunshot ringing in your ears before strong arms lift you. You feel the heat of Dean’s body against yours, the way his breath comes in short, panicked gasps as he carries you into the nearest building—an old, abandoned storefront.

“Sam, close the damn door!” Dean barks.

Sam shoves a shelf against the entrance, barricading it. Outside, the hounds snarl, claws scraping against the door. The barrier won’t hold for long.

Dean sets you down carefully on the dusty floor. His hands are everywhere, checking your wounds, brushing hair out of your face. His expression is tight, jaw clenched.

“Lemme see,” he mutters.

You hiss as he pulls up your shirt, revealing the long, jagged gashes down your side. Blood seeps into your clothes, warm and sticky.

“Shit,” he breathes.

Sam kneels beside you, pulling supplies from his bag. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

You blink up at Dean, swallowing through the pain. “Told you I wasn’t scared.”

Dean lets out a choked laugh, but his eyes are filled with something deeper—raw fear. “Yeah, yeah. Real badass. Now shut up and let us fix you.”

His hands are steady as he presses a cloth against your side, but you can feel the slight tremble beneath his grip. You reach up, brushing a shaky hand against his jaw.

“Dean,” you murmur, voice softer now.

His eyes flick to yours, something unspoken passing between you. The usual teasing, the flirty back-and-forth—it’s gone. This is different. This is real.

He swallows hard, then nods.

“I got you, sweetheart.” 

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[onlinesuzie]

☆ hooking up with hamzah ☆

words: 3.1k

genre: heavy smut, dom hamzah

summary: You are invited to a small party at Mandy's apartment but when you are introduced to Hamzah, you realise he's the boy you had the most insane hook up with and now obviously you can't resist the chance of hooking up again.

notes: i gotta be real, i gotta ring the police after this cause damn this is most insane thing i've ever written.

♡

You were sitting in your living room, half-watching TV when your phone buzzed with a message. It was from Mandy, one of your close friends.

"hey my love! i’m having this little party thing at my place this saturday, please please please can you come! martin’s bringing a friend… ;)"

You smiled at the message, feeling extremely excited. You hadn’t seen Mandy and her boyfriend, Martin, in a while, and the idea of a relaxed evening with friends sounded perfect. You quickly typed back your reply.

"i’m free!! i can’t wait to see you"

When Saturday arrived, you spent a little extra time getting ready, choosing an outfit that made you feel extra good. As you arrived at Mandy’s apartment, the familiar hum of music and chatter greeted you from inside. You knocked, and a moment later, Mandy opened the door with a wide grin.

"You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. The apartment was slightly hot from the people moving around and laughing loudly, it was filled with chatter and the slight smell of alcohol.

Martin was in the kitchen, mixing drinks. When he saw you, he waved. "Hey! come here and get a drink!" he said, motioning for you to come over. You exchanged a few waves and hugs of the people you knew, catching up on life since the last time you’d all hung out.

Mandy appeared beside you, practically bouncing around, probably already tipsy. "Oh, yes! I need to introduce you to Martin's friend!" she said, her eyes disappearing with how smiley she was. Without waiting for your response, she started grabbed your hand, leading you through the room.

As you followed her, you wondered who this friend could be. Mandy stopped near the living room, turning to you with a smile. "This is Hamzah," she said, gesturing to a man standing nearby. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized him immediately. It was Hamzah—the guy you had hooked up with a few weeks ago.

His eyes widened slightly as he recognized you, and for a moment, there was a silent exchange between the two of you. He gulped slightly but finally breaking the silence with a small, amused smile.

"Hey," he said, his voice soft, with just a hint of teasing. "Nice to see you.. again." the last word quiet enough for only the both of you to hear.

You felt your cheeks heat up, but you managed a smile. "Yeah, you too."

Mandy, oblivious to the history between you two, grinned. "I’ll leave you to get to know each other!" she said before disappearing back into the crowd.

Once she was gone, you and Hamzah exchanged an awkward laugh. "This is... unexpected," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You nodded, feeling the same awkwardness. "Yeah, definitely unexpected."

Despite the initial feeling, the conversation quickly found its rhythm. You and Hamzah started talking, easing into a comfortable banter. The more you talked, the more you remembered why you’d been drawn to him that night a few weeks ago. There was a spark between you, a feeling that was hard to ignore.

As the night went on, that spark began to intensify. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking, the way his voice dropped a little lower when he spoke just to you. You especially noticed the way he slowly swiped his tongue along his bottom lip when he looked you up and down. It was like there was a tension building pull between the two of you, something that had been there all night, just waiting to be released.

At some point, you found yourself standing close to him near the hallway, the rest of the party fading into the background. The air between you was tense, and you could tell by the way he was looking at you that he felt it too.

"Do you want to... go somewhere more private?" he asked, leaning in close to whisper in your ear.

Your heart raced at his suggestion, but you nodded, a shy smile on your lips. Without another word, you led him down the hall, toward the bathroom at the end. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, the small space suddenly feeling even smaller.

The moment the door clicked shut, the tension between you snapped. Hamzah stepped forward, his eyelids heavy and warmth grew within you, his hand brushing against your cheek as he leaned in. His lips found yours in a rough and sloppy kiss, the familiarity of it sending a rush of adrenaline through you.

As kiss got deeper, it was becoming more intense as the memories of that night came flooding back. His hands snaking their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded by placing your hands on his chest , your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, the rest of the party forgotten. The thrill of being so close to him again, in this unexpected situation, was intoxicating.

Eventually, the sound of laughter from the party brought you back to reality. You pulled back slightly, both of you breathing heavily.

Hamzah smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek. "That was... so hot," he said.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of excitement and satisfaction. "Yeah, but I need more of you Hamzah."

He chuckled, pressing a quick, playful kiss to your lips before stepping back.

You and Hamzah linger in the bathroom for a moment longer, catching your breath, exchanging a few soft laughs as the reality of what just happened sinks in. There’s a shared look between you. The party outside feels like a distant hum, irrelevant to the little world you’ve just created together.

Finally, you straighten your clothes, both of you taking a moment to collect yourselves. Hamzah glances at you, his smile soft and a little teasing. “Ready to head back out?” he asks, his voice low.

You nod, still feeling the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Opening the bathroom door, you slip back into the hallway. The noise of the party floods your senses once again, but it’s as if there’s an invisible bubble around the two of you—nothing else seems to matter. You share a quick, private smile with Hamzah before heading back into the main room.

The two of you rejoin the party, and while you try to blend back in, you can’t help but notice the lingering gazes between you. There’s a silent communication in every glance, every touch. It’s not long before Hamzah leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “Want to get out of here?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself nodding without hesitation. The idea of continuing, of seeing where it could go, is too tempting to resist. Together, you make your way to the door, weaving through the crowd.

As you approach Mandy and Martin, who are chatting with a couple of other guests, you gently tap Mandy on the shoulder. She turns around, her face lighting up with a smile when she sees you. “You’re heading out?” she asks, her eyes flickering between you and Hamzah.

“Yeah, I think we’re going to call it a night,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual. But there’s no hiding the way Hamzah’s hand finds yours, fingers intertwining as he steps up beside you.

Mandy’s smile widens, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Well, it was great seeing you both! Don’t be weird, okay?” She pulls you into a quick hug, and then one for Hamzah, who exchanges a nod with Martin.

Martin gives you a thumbs-up and a wink as he notices your linked hands. “Take care, guys,” he says, clearly amused but in a friendly, supportive way.

You and Hamzah say your final goodbyes before slipping out of the apartment together. The night air is cool and refreshing after the warmth of the party. Hamzah leads you to his car parked a little way down the street, his hand still firmly in yours.

As you reach his car, he gets into the driver’s seat, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The quiet of the car is almost deafening, filled only with the sound of your breathing and the faint hum of the engine when Hamzah starts it. His hand rests on the steering wheel, the other on the gearshift, but you can feel his eyes on you, stealing glances as if he’s trying to gauge your thoughts.

You turn to look at him, your gaze meeting his in the dim light of the car’s interior. The tension is strong now, thickening the air between you. The memory of his touch in the bathroom, the way he made you feel weeks prior, is all too fresh. And by the way his eyes darken when they lock with yours, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and rough, almost hesitant. It’s a simple question, but the weight behind it is heavy.

“I’m more than okay,” you reply, your voice soft but steady. There’s a slight quiver of excitement in your tone, something he doesn’t miss.

A small smile tugs at his lips, and his hand finally leaves the gearshift, sliding over to rest on your thigh. The touch is gentle at first, but you can feel the warmth of his palm through your clothes, the heat spreading like a slow burn. He squeezes lightly, his fingers flexing against your skin, and it takes everything in you not to shiver under his touch.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. There’s something deeper in his gaze now, not just desire but a hint of vulnerability, as if he needs reassurance that this isn’t just a fleeting moment.

You nod, feeling a surge of affection for him. “I’m sure, Hamzah.”

That’s all it takes for the tension to snap. He leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that starts slow, as if he’s savoring the moment. But it quickly deepens, his hand tightening on your thigh as he pulls you closer, the kiss becoming more intense.

You can feel the heat building between you, the way his touch becomes more needy, the way his breathing quickens. Your hands find their way to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you lose track of time, of everything except the feel of him against you.

Finally, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, his voice rough with need.

You nod again, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling. He shifts the car into gear, his hand returning to your thigh as he drives, this time with more urgency, as if he can’t get you to his place fast enough.

His thumb strokes your skin absently, and every touch sends a jolt of electricity through you. It’s almost unbearable, this tension that’s coiled tight between you, ready to snap the moment you’re alone again. The city lights blur past as you drive, but you barely notice, too focused on the way his hand inches higher on your leg, teasing, testing you.

When you finally pull into his driveway, the tension reaches its peak. Hamzah cuts the engine and turns to you, his eyes blazing with desire and something deeper, something that makes your heart race even faster.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice a low, throaty whisper.

Instead of answering, you lean in and kiss him again, your hand sliding up the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It’s all the answer he needs. The kiss is hungry, desperate, as if you’ve both been holding back for too long. His hand on your thigh tightens, pulling you even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body radiating through the small space between you.

Breaking the kiss, Hamzah quickly gets out of the car, and you follow suit, both of you stumbling out. He takes your hand again, leading you toward the front door. The night is cool around you, but the heat between you both is undeniable, impossible to ignore.

The moment the door closes behind you, you know there’s no going back. The tension that’s been building all night finally has its outlet, and neither of you is going to hold back.

As you walked towards his place, you subtly moved closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his. You could feel the heat between you, and you knew tonight was going to be intense. Hamzah couldn't take his eyes off you, his gaze burning with desire as he took in your body.

You smiled to yourself, knowing the effect you had on him. Reaching his door, he fumbled with the keys, his hands shaking slightly as he struggled to focus. You placed your hand on his, a simple touch that sent a spark through him, as he guided the key into the lock.

The door swung open, and he stepped aside to let you enter first. You took a moment to glance back at him before stepping into the hallway. Hamzah followed close behind, his breath soft on the back of your neck, making your skin tingle.

You didn't turn on the main lights, opting for the softer glow of lamps instead. You turned to face him, your bodies now just inches apart.

Hamzah's eyes devoured you, taking in your every curve and the way your clothes hugged your body. You could see the desire and hunger in his eyes, which only further turned you on. Leaning forward, you pressed your body against his, feeling the hard planes of his chest and the stiffness of his cock through his pants.

His hands found your hips, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours in a passionate kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your tongue dueling with his as your hands roamed over his broad shoulders and down his back. You could feel his cock twitch against your stomach, and you knew he was just as desperate for release as you were.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your lips down his jaw and neck, nipping and sucking at his sensitive skin. He tilted his head back, a soft groan escaping his lips as you marked him with your mouth.

"I want you," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I need to feel you, all of you."

You smiled at his desperation. This wasn't the first time you had hooked up, but it was clear that Hamzah was still just as obsessed with your body as he had been the first time. And you loved having this effect on him.

Guiding him towards the bedroom, you pushed him gently onto the edge of the bed. He sat there, watching you with dark, wanting eyes as you slowly began to undress. You removed your shirt, teasing him by covering your breasts with your arms, before finally revealing them.

His breath hitched as your breasts were exposed, his eyes glued to you as you slowly unbuttoned your jeans. Sliding them down your legs, you stepped out of them, now wearing nothing but your underwear. Hamzah's cock twitched in his pants, straining against the fabric as he got a full view of your body.

Kneeling before him, you placed soft kisses up his thighs, your hands roaming over his hard chest as you undid his belt. With slow, deliberate movements, you unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper, reaching inside to wrap your hand around his throbbing cock.

He hissed at the feeling of your soft hand on his hard length, his hips bucking slightly as you began to stroke him. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before taking him into your warm, wet mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as you sucked him deeply, your tongue swirling and teasing.

"Fuck, that feels so good," he murmured, his hips thrusting gently as you took your time, exploring every inch of him with your mouth. You moaned softly, the vibrations sending shivers through him.

Pulling off his cock, you stood up and finished undressing, revealing your naked body. Hamzah's eyes feasted on your every curve, his mouth hanging open slightly as he took in your perfection.

"You look even hotter like this Hamzah," you whispered, pushing him back onto the bed and climbing on top of him. You straddled his waist, your pussy hovering just above his cock as you leaned down to kiss him deeply.

He kissed you back hungrily, his hands grasping your ass as he pulled you against him. You aligned yourself with his cock, feeling the head press against you. Slowly, you sank down, sitting down on his length as you threw your head back in pleasure.

Hamzah groaned, his eyes rolling back as he filled you completely. You rode him slowly at first, savoring the feeling of him stretching you wide.

"Your body is so fucking perfect," he muttered, his eyes taking in the sight of your naked skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. "I could worship this body forever."

His words sent a rush of heat between your legs, and you increased your pace, riding him harder as you clenched around his cock. He thrust up to meet your movements, his hips slamming into yours as he filled you completely.

The bed creaked with the force of both of you, your moans and groans filling the room as you drove each other wild. Hamzah's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he pounded into you.

"Cum for me," he growled, his voice husky and full of need. "Let me feel you cum around my cock."

His dirty words sent you over the edge, and you cried out as your orgasm washed over you. You clenched around his cock, enjoying the wave after wave of pleasure crashing through your body.

Feeling you tighten around him, Hamzah let out a moan, his cock twitching as he filled you with him. You collapsed against him, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you felt his warm release deep inside you.

For several moments, you lay there, your bodies entangled and your hearts pounding. Eventually, you rolled off him, a lazy smile on your face as you snuggled into his side.

"That was incredible," he whispered, his voice full of satisfaction as he played with your hair. "I can't get enough of you."

You smiled, knowing that this wouldn't be the last time you'd hook up. Hamzah was obsessed, and you were more than happy to give him more.

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾.⠀( the base violence necessary for change , 9.3k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this third chapter, there's a lot going on. mentions of death, injuries, prostitution, blood, fights, and a brief suicidal thought at the end. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀third chapter out! i'm so sorry thta it took me another full day to post a new chapter. i haven't even watched act 3 yet because i lit have no time, but i managed to finish this. it is very sad. i'm sorry about that too. but next chapter will be slightly more relaxed, with less drama, i promise. happy sunday 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

It's hard to know what your last breath will be, but sometimes you can feel the moment lurking, like a shadow looming over you, icy and heavy. Crouched on that rooftop, the air had a strange edge to it, as if each breath cut inside. The mist rising from the streets scratched at your throat, but it wasn't just mist. It was the weight of the inevitable.

You paused, frowning, as the usual swaying of the wooden sign of Benzo's caused your gaze to wander towards the entrance of the shop. And before you could comprehend what was happening, the scream came as a jolt, tearing through the silence of the night. It was as if the sound pierced your skin, sinking into your flesh, clinging to your bones. The kind of scream you can't help but hear, a gasp ripped from a throat. A hopeless, desperate voice that forces you to imagine the pain behind it. One last breath, and a body slumped to the ground.

And then, you caught a glimpse of him. A blurred figure, moving with a ferocity that seemed unnatural, unloading a punch on another uniformed officer, the glare of his gaze utterly animalistic. You cowered over the edge of the building, struggling not to look away, and flinched at the brutality of the pounding. The Enforcers all looked the same, with the metal mask and the blue cap, but the creature that had attacked them was familiar. It seemed less human with every movement, a mass of disfigured flesh and purplish meandering veins, but the curve of its chin, the soft wave of its hair... you had been so close to its face that you had come to memorise it.

Deckard. You recognised the sharp turn of his movements, accentuated in that state. You had felt his violence in your own skin, you knew it. Altered into a violent beast, he still retained some of that cruel strength, no doubt hindered by the way his body had grown and deformed. You saw him ignore the authoritative warning of a third Enforcer, and approach her at superhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, the police collapsed at his feet, like a drunk by a tavern door. Her blood spilled down the wall of the tent, sloshing everywhere, and you followed it with your eyes as it slid between the stones, thick, after Deckard had torn her flesh to the bone.

The force of his attack hit you like a shot in your chest, and you clutched at the concrete beneath your hands as if you could somehow anchor yourself to the past. There was silence in the weathered street. You could only hear your ragged breathing, quickening under your skin, and Deckard's silent footsteps as he disappeared. Night had fallen on Zaun like a blanket on your bed, and you felt it on your shoulders, suffocating you. You looked down again, where the rickety bodies of the agents lay like broken dolls on the pavement, their stiff fingers still gripping their pistols, and you could faintly distinguish the movement of someone approaching them in the shadows.

Measuring his pace, as if calculating every step he took, a fourth Enforcer approached the bodies of the fallen agents, his service gun in his hand, and he hesitated. For a moment you wanted to say something to him, to warn him perhaps, that there was a beast loose in the darkness, tell him to run away while he could, but a movement in the dusk stopped you. He was not alone. Behind him, shoulder to shoulder at the entrance to the shop, two frozen figures watched the scene. You felt a knot in your chest as you recognised them: Vander and Benzo. Their stances looked sharp, like a taut bow about to shoot an arrow, ready to defend themselves if necessary.

You leaned forward, caught between the urge to descend and the helplessness of knowing you could do nothing from up there, but something stopped you. You saw something dancing in the fog, the soft walk of a distorted silhouette slowly approaching from the other side of the street. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, a shiver that was not only cold, but that also contained more than just that, the fear locked in your ribcage, rising up to feel it pulsing in your throat.

And then, the glow of embers in the night: a kaleidoscope of shadows and flames, pierced by a scar, so different from its twin that they looked like the eyes of two different people. The face, sharp, pale, and an imperturbable pace, so sure of himself that the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

‘Silco?’ Benzo, hesitant, confused at first, turned rabid as he brandished the old silver candlestick in the direction of the unknown man. ‘You animal,’ he said, coming closer, stumbling, ’go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of.’

You couldn't see the venomous smile that tugged at Silco's thin lips, but you did hear the desperate tone torn from Vander's throat as he raised his hands towards his friend, cuffed, useless, trying to prevent the inevitable, ‘Benzo, stay back!’

‘You never did know when to walk away,’ Silco's voice, velvety, echoed down the street, emptying the silence, and your heart stopped inside your chest as Benzo tried to pounce on him.

The motion was too fast for the human eye. One instant, Benzo had raged forward, steadfast, defying the impassive man of mist. The next, Deckard's raw strength had brought Benzo down in a bundle of violet swirls, the body of the one who had cared for you since you were a child lying lifeless on the ground. The creaking of his bones echoed wet and dry at the same time, like tree branches snapping under too much weight, the blood surging beneath his shoulders, as if fleeing from the veins it was ceasing to flow through.

From the rooftop, it all seemed painfully distant. You brought a trembling hand to your mouth, a scream dying in your throat, watching Deckard keep his hand on Benzo's neck. His crooked fingers seemed to tingle from feeling the violence of death again, waiting, hovering over Benzo to check that he was gone, and you heard Vander's torn whimper, his legs buckling under his weight, under the weight of loss.

‘Stubborn to the end,’ muttered Silco, relishing each word with reverence.

But then the Enforcer left standing dropped his arms, defeated, betrayed, half-face covered by the mask they wore so as not to breathe Zaun's toxic air, and questioned Silco angrily, ‘What the hell have you done? This wasn't the deal!’

The echo of his words expanded, vibrating inside your head as if searching for a place to linger, and you stood still, watching from the shadows as that chilling scene unfolded, kneeling on the edge of the building, utterly overwhelmed.

‘Deal's changed.’

Silco's words reverberated on the cobblestone floor of the poorly lit street, ringing in your ears, as you tried to clear your mind. You took a breath of air, which cut, cold, down your throat, and looked down. You could still hear his voice, ominously calm and low, and the clink of coins clattering on the floor. A deal. Between the topside and the underground. You frowned, realising that there were no fire stairs on that front, and accentuated your frown as you tried to understand why someone from Zaun would want to ally himself with an Enforcer, of all people.

Before you could even try to slide down the wall, however, leaping from window to window as you had done in the past, you heard Deckard's heavy footsteps on the cobblestone floor, and you raised your head. He was slowly approaching Vander, with no sign of a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop, letting out a low growl as the beast finally took up a position in front of him. His arm swung once like the pendulum of an old clock, and the punch blew against Vander's face with a low, muffled thud, causing him to stagger under its weight.

Your throat closed as you watched him anchor his legs to the ground to keep from falling. You saw him drop his shoulders, defeated, as if he had forgotten his own strength, and he stood just as still as you did whilst Deckard shoved his hand through Vander's hair, grabbing him violently and pulling him to the ground. You watched him, because you were unable to do anything else, as if fear had slid liquid across your skin until it solidified around your ankles, the monstrous creature dragging Vander across the ground. 

It was the certainty. Vander, who had picked you up off the street at your weakest moment, who had taught you how to defend yourself, who had shown you the resilience that characterised him like a class while learning how to make Powder's favourite juice, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self by a punch. What could you have done to stop it? To stand between Vander and the one who had abused you as much as he had wanted? To face Deckard's vicious eyes once more, risking losing him all the same?

It wouldn't have helped.

You watched them walk, Silco's figure turning away from the chaos of shadows and death he left behind him, while Deckard followed close behind, gripping Vander's hair with a bruising strength. Your fingers itched. You had braided that hair many times, elaborate and funny designs as you grew up, but those hands were treating it cruelly, a monster freed of any kind of sentience. And it hurt. Watching them disappear into the fog, the Enforcer staggering down the street to the other side, it stung like an open wound. You bit your cheek, holding back the tears that threatened to slide down your skin, and felt the blood on your tongue like a foul aftertaste.

And then you heard it. The cry, choked and broken, that pierced your chest like a sharp knife. You stood up, waking the legs that had felt numb against the concrete edge of the rooftop, and moved on instinct, ignoring the insignificant discomfort of your ankle every time you leaned on it.

It was Vi. You slid across the roof, your feet seeking support on the nearest window ledge, hanging on to it to climb down to the next, and continued descending. You followed the heartbreaking sound of Vi's voice, drowning out her own sobs, and swallowed all the emotions you didn't want to feel, focused on finding your girlfriend. The polish of your nails peeled as you buried your fingers in joints between bricks, clinging to them to keep from falling to the ground, and you closed your eyes tightly before you took the last leap, placing most of your weight on your good foot as you landed on the ground.

You rose to your feet, a shiver running through your skin, as you heard the piercing cry of frustration, and turned to face it with a jolt. It had come from Benzo's shop. Had she been there all that time? You frowned, restless, and turned towards the massacre, clenching your jaw and staring straight ahead. You had to get Vi out of there. That was your priority. You couldn't afford to look at the ground, to collapse. Every breath you took, the air sounded slightly ragged, as if you were about to scream but held back, and you clenched your hands into fists as you dodged the bodies sprawled on the floor.

Your first step into Benzo's shop was hesitant, like an unconfident fawn's. You didn't want to think that it was the first time you would enter the place knowing that its owner would never come back to wait for you behind the counter, but the certainty came back to you again and again, as if brought by the tide. There was almost no light, the little oil lamps that were scattered around the shelves were off, as if they held a mourning you had not yet faced, and the darkness brought with it a feeling of coldness that dug into your bones.

‘Vi,’ you whispered, your choked voice faintly spilling across the room. ‘Vi!’ you repeated, louder.

You heard your name, low, dazed, almost vanishing into thin air, and tried to follow it. It was the storage room. She had been locked in the storeroom.

‘Wait!’ you said, rushing to the counter, ‘I'll get you out!’

You tried to piece together what had happened, your hand searching in the gloom for the spare key Benzo always kept in the wooden drawers. It was in Vi's nature to have tried to fix everything herself. It was inherent in her, to carry as much of the burden as possible so that her siblings —and even you, if you got into trouble— wouldn't have to suffer the consequences. You didn't know how she could have warned the Enforcers, but you knew they had come to Benzo's shop for her. You knew it as clearly as you knew you would have done the same for her if it had happened.

But if Vander had shown up, it was also because he had discovered her. And if he had been wearing the handcuffs, it had been him who had locked her in the storeroom. To stop her from doing another stupid thing. Maybe Vander wasn't her biological father, but a strained smile tugged at your lips at the thought that they were more alike than they allowed themselves to think they were.

When your fingertips brushed against the metal frame of the key, you grabbed onto it, running the few meters between the countertop and the door behind which Vi stood. Your hands trembled as you slid it into its lock, holding your breath as you tried a second time, and you turned it on its axis twice, as you had done so many times in the past, pulling the heavy door off its hinges so that you could wrap your arms around Vi's body.

She clung to you tightly, choking her sobs in the crook of your neck, and the silence grew heavy around you, empty of hope. You felt Vi's hands squeeze your shirt, squeezing your body against hers, her warm tears sliding down your skin. You looked up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh between your lips, and ran your hand up her back until it was tangled in her hair. Her shoulders shook under your touch to the rhythm of her own sobs, and you stayed still beside her for as long as she needed, allowing her to collapse.

‘Did you see what happened?’ you finally murmured against her hair, as her breathing slowly regulated.

‘Not much,’ she replied, her voice broken by tears, pulling away from you to rub her hands across her face. ‘Did you?’

‘It was Benzo...’ you began, and you hated the way you faltered before continuing. ‘They killed Benzo. And the Enforcers, some of them...’

‘And Vander?’

‘He's alive,’ you said, sliding your hand down his arm. ‘They took him.’

And your breath hitched as you realised.

He was alive. They had taken him, but he was still alive. Your mind was scrambling, trying to plan an impulse that came to you like a tug at your heart, watching the tears glisten on Vi's freckled cheeks. You couldn't let her lose someone else. Piltover had taken enough from her. Vander was still alive, you told yourself. He was still breathing, his chest was rising and falling, even if he hadn't had the strength to rise and confront them. He was alive, and you still had a chance to fight for him.

Your face took on a more worried tinge, ‘We need to find out where they've taken him.’

Vi looked up at you, her unfocused eyes darting across your face, but she nodded.

‘I know where,’ muttered a voice behind you. You turned abruptly, brow furrowed in distrust, and felt the pain wither against your ribcage. Ekko.

Little Ekko, never as small as he looked at that moment, his shoulders slumped forward and his crystallised gaze fixed on you. You took a step forward, ready to take him in your arms, but it was he who crossed the distance between you, taking refuge in your embrace. The pained expression on his face melted into tears as you snaked your hands around his back, and your own lump in your throat threatened to unravel as you felt him cry against your chest.

‘They killed him,’ he murmured, over and over against your skin, choking back his own tears.

‘I know, kid,’ you replied, unable to understand what you were supposed to do at that moment. You felt the warmth of unshed drops in your own eyes, and fought against them, burying your face in his hair as you felt one slide down your cheek. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry.’

‘We'll get them, Ekko,’ Vi promised, resting one hand on your back, stroking you comfortingly, and another on the boy's shoulder.

He parted slowly, rubbing his hand over his cheeks as Vi had done a few minutes before, and looked at the two of you, trying to gather the energy to speak. You couldn't stop to think what it must have felt like, watching Benzo die like that and still finding the strength to follow the perpetrators, the murderers, just so you could have a glimmer of hope of getting Vander back. He had been very brave.

‘It should be quick,’ you said, cradling his face in your hand, the pain shining in your gaze. ‘An hour and a half, maybe, tops two hours.’ You slid your gaze slightly to Vi, who was watching you with her brows furrowed in a helpless gesture, and added, ‘If we're not back then, please, go to my Mom's, yeah?’

Your mother would know what to do. She always did. She would take care of Ekko.

‘But...,’ he stammered, and you decided to ignore the way his chin began to tremble again, new tears gathering in his almond-shaped dark eyes.

‘No buts, Ekko,’ you replied, interrupting him gently. You took a breath of air, tangling your fingers in his short pale hair, pulling him to your body, and held him tightly in your arms. ‘I need you to be safe, please,’ you implored.

‘I don't want to lose you,’ he murmured against the fabric of your shirt, and you felt every movement of his lips, your own face struggling not to cry. 

You looked up, blinking back tears, sighing the lump in your throat, ‘You won't,’ you told him, stroking his white curls, ‘you have my word. I'll come back in one piece.’

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your hands on his shoulders, and slid your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the strands of tears that had leaked from his eyes, trying to muster the courage to flash a crooked smile. It wasn't easy, but you couldn't afford to look weak. Not in front of him, not when he needed you more than ever.

‘Besides,’ you whispered, unbuttoning your waistcoat, holding the pocket watch between your fingers, resting it against his chest in a graceful motion, ‘who's going to look after my watch while I'm gone?’

‘Are you going to let me keep it?’ he asked, cupping it in his two hands as if it were a treasure. He slid his fingertips over the silver curve of its circumference, over the twelve chipped numbers you had drawn above it - all Roman numerals - and looked up at you.

‘Forever,’ you promised, nodding solemnly.

He pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you melted into his embrace with closed eyes, memorising every detail. Vi joined in a sigh, wrapping her strong arms around you, and for a moment you remained buried under your own skin, wishing that it was all a nightmare and that when you opened your eyes, the rapid breathing, tears and screams were just part of yet another of your childish games.

Reality was far crueler than a kid's imagination.

You felt Vi's hand intertwined with yours like a shackle pulling you back to consciousness, the faint discomfort of your ankle keeping you sane as she led you to The Last Drop. You hadn't exchanged a word since you had left Ekko in the same room of broken glass you had fled from that morning, hidden in the rafters of the ceiling, and both of remained trapped in your minds, thoughts running at too much speed.

It was difficult to face such a situation. As inhabitants of Zaun, loss was part of your DNA. You came into the world crying for the loss of your future, a future that had been taken from you at the founding of the city, and you mourned the violence that you would inevitably encounter, ever-present in the streets of the underground. Vi had endured the death of her biological parents, as had Powder and the rest of the Vander children, and you had been born without knowing who your father was, growing up surrounded by brutality.

You didn't know what your girlfriend was thinking, but you tried to remember if you'd ever spent enough time in the docks to have been able to investigate the large building that loomed over the water, as if it were floating. Ekko had claimed to see the man of mist and Deckard disappear within its tall brick walls, but had refused to come any closer. You had left a soft kiss on his forehead as a farewell, and in a glance you and Vi had known what to do.

Vander had trained you for such a moment. He had spent years teaching you how to defend yourselves, practising boxing with you, training you to take care of your own. You had always assumed it would be complicated, any fight was. But as much as Vander had been a proponent of using violence, in his past, you had also learned peace. It was clear that Silco would not accept a dialogue, a bargain of any kind. He had negotiated with that Enforcer for Vander. Vander had been his target.

The importance of acting was to do it right. And if you sneaked in and out, as you'd done so many times before to get some food, you'd all sleep on the top floor of The Last Drop that night, listening to Vander's snoring, the sheets moving every time Powder rolled over in her bed, and Vi's body warm against yours.

The bar was dead silent when you slipped in through the back door, and you assumed Vander would have closed up before he went to find Vi. You waited a few moments for her as she went inside to fetch the gauntlets Vander always kept hanging over the counter, and slipped down the stairs to the small room in the basement of the building when she returned with a shake of her head. Someone had taken them.

‘Vi?’ uttered Claggor, turning to you as she opened the door. He added your name, avoiding the hint of a question. You tried to force a smile as you realised that they had always assumed that if one of you was there, the other would appear shortly after.

Vi came down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the two boys, and slid her eyes around the room, searching for the gauntlets, ‘Where are the...?’

You sat on one of the steps, listening to the soft thump of Powder's body as she pounced on her older sister, and pulled your trousers up to your knee, untying your laces at full speed. Whenever Vi was set on something, she acted on instinct and with great speed. You didn't know if she would look for something more —except perhaps other weapons— but you delegated finding them to her. You had little time to slow down the way your ankle was going to worsen its condition irremediably in the remainder of the night.

Nor did you have much more strength than she did to explain what had happened.

You pulled off the bandages you carried in your pocket, resting them on the old wood of the stairs, as you heard Vi's quickened breathing echo through the room, pulling your injured foot up a step to remove your boot. You looked up when you heard Mylo protest, ‘Hey, those are Vander's,’ he said, grabbing Vi by the wrist. ‘Slow down. What is going on?’

‘Benzo's dead,’ she muttered, and you closed your eyes for a moment, before continuing to untie the tight knot in your shoes. 

‘Dead?’ Claggor repeated, and you wondered if you were better off waiting outside. You removed your sock, shook your head, took a breath of air, and picked up the bandages, placing your foot on the knee of your other leg.

‘They took Vander.’

‘Who took Vander?’ added Claggor, as you began to wrap the bandage around your ankle, taut, inflexible on your skin, tense enough so that when you came back your joints wouldn't resent it. You did it angrily, trying to bury all the emotions you had managed to control so far.

‘I don't know,’ you heard Vi reply, and her voice sounded slightly closer as she turned to include you in the conversation, ’we're gonna help him.’

‘We're going with you,’ Mylo replied, almost as if he was hurt that it hadn't occurred to you earlier.

You put your sock back on when the bandages felt like a second skin over your foot, and tied your boots tightly. A bloody sprain wasn't going to stop you from rescuing Vander. It wasn't going to stop you from bringing him back, safely, home. You weren't going to let it. You looked up, sighing, and tried to intervene.

‘Whatever killed Benzo...’ you said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘It was nothing like I've ever seen,’ Vi continued, and her voice trembled as much as yours. ‘It tore him apart.’

You saw the way her shoulders tensed before even the first sob slipped from her mouth, but you didn't have a chance to approach her before her brothers, who embraced her warmly, all united by stubbornness and impotence. Vi put her hands to her face, covering the obstinate tears she did not want to let fall down her cheeks, and you knew she had come to the same conclusion as you. They were both going to want to go with you, and you were going to need their help, no matter how much Vi wanted to keep them safe.

‘You're not doing this alone,’ Claggor stated, determined.

‘He's our father too,’ Mylo added, his hand tracing circles on Vi's back. ’Do we know where they took him?’

‘Ekko followed them,’ you interjected, clearing your throat as Vi stowed what her brothers had left on the table in one of the backpacks you always left lying around. ‘The old cannery next to the docks. He said...’

You looked up from the backpack, calming yourself once you realised it had been the boys who had taken the gauntlets, but the muscles in your back tensed again as you noticed Powder standing in front of you, a look of determination on her face, and a suitcase in her hands. Of course she wanted to go with you too.

Vi turned to you as she heard you hesitate, and exhaled an exhausted sigh at the sight of her sister.

‘I need you to sit this one out, Powder,’ she asked, approaching her.

‘What?’ her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and your heart crumpled in your chest. Ekko had been easier to convince because he had seen what had happened. He was shocked, willing to wait for you to return. But Powder had always followed his sister's example, longing for a chance to show her worth and to stop being treated like a child.

‘You're not coming,’ and Powder's expression was worse than if she'd received a slap in the face.

‘I'm not afraid,’ she replied, desperate within the quietness of her response.

You couldn't intervene on this occasion. Nor were Mylo and Claggor going to. It went beyond their sense of responsibility, this was a blood sister fight to see which of the two would get their way. And the older one always had the upper hand.

‘It's too dangerous,’ Vi added, and you didn't have to see the gleam in her eye to know that she needed Powder to listen to her, to understand why she was asking so much of her.

‘But families stick together,’ Powder continued, accentuating his frown, ’you said it yourself.’

‘I know what I said...’

‘I want to fight,’ she announced, and the freckles creased on her cheeks as she looked up, raging, at Vi. ‘I can help.’

‘You're not ready,’ Vi replied, and her sharp tone cut over Powder's determination, shattering what hope remained. You saw how Vi held her breath for a moment, regretting her choice of words, and tried to correct them in a whisper. ‘You're all I have left,’ she said, resting the palm of her hand against Powder's cheek. ‘I can't lose you.’

‘Here,’ you uttered, in a soft, conciliatory tone, approaching them with one of the flares you had in a box under the stairs. It was a blue smoke one, a symbol you had talked about more than once with Powder, making jokes about the colour of her hair.

Vi took it gently from your hands, handing it to her little sister, ‘If they come for you, take this and run,’ she whispered, her gaze locked on Powder's pale pink eyes. ‘Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you.’

Eyes shining, you almost couldn't hear the last words, a gentle ‘I promise’ murmured against Powder's face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her sister's, memorising the warmth of her body before parting. You turned, beckoning Mylo and Claggor up the stairs, and you followed, leaving the sisters a few more seconds together.

The mood seemed somewhat subdued, Mylo's mouth closed in an altogether uncharacteristic muteness, and you peeled back your lips to make some comment to cheer them. The words died in your throat when you reached the landing, suddenly surrounded by Claggor's arms, and you held your breath in surprise.

‘I'm sorry,’ he said, and Mylo repeated it, both of them hugging you.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of weakness, and let out a choked sob against Claggor's shoulder, still feeling the lump in your throat.

‘It's not your fault,’ you murmured back, ’it's not.’

‘It's not yours either,’ Vi uttered, and you turned your face towards her, who had just appeared through the door.

You tried to curl your lips into a grateful smile, your eyelids quivering to keep from shedding a tear, ‘I know.’

But it wasn't true, because you could never find out what would have happened if you had come down from that rooftop before Silco appeared, if you had warned the Enforcers of Deckard's presence. It was already in the past, you had lost your opportunity. Maybe, if you had confronted them while Vander and Benzo were still conscious, everything would be fine. Maybe your presence would had led them to fight back. And that was something Vi didn't know either.

You trailed behind, but kept pace as Vi led you through the crooked streets of Zaun, turning corners and ignoring drunken men, towards the city borders. The docks were not a highly desirable place, though one to which Madam sent many prostitutes on the days of disembarkation. Most traders transacted goods with the topside, and its bright and shiny harbours, but those who dealt in coal and alcohol had to make a stop at the Lanes, and the black market in its streets.

That building, however, looked even darker in the moonlight, the mist rising from the water creating a cloak of eerie mystery around it. You walked around its perimeter in a couple of minutes, trying to figure out which entrance was the most secluded but best accessible, and it was your keen eye that located an open window on the first floor. You climbed onto Claggor's shoulders, a rope at your shoulder, and clung tightly to one of the pipes, checking with a smirk that it would be able to support your weight.

Of the four of you, you were the best at climbing. You were elusive, small and slender for your age, even more so than the children of Zaun, no doubt a consequence of the fact that on many days your mother had been unable to offer you food to put in your mouth. The need to hide had made you learn to duck between the rooftops of the city, and though Vi was better at leaping from building to building, you were certainly the sneakiest of the bunch.

You even seemed to glide along the facades, you'd been told, clawing at bricks and picking out which spots on the wall were best to rest your limbs on, as you were doing at the moment. You panted as you managed to get your arm over the window sill, sliding your leg over so that you could slide into the building, and held your breath as you glanced down the dark corridor. No one seemed to be there. You grabbed the coiled rope you had slung over your shoulder and began to drag it down the window, waiting for Vi's two tugs before you crouched on the floor and braced your feet against the wall.

You held on, with the rope wrapped around your waist and tugging at it while the others climbed, and left it hidden under the window once everyone had climbed up. In case any guards found it, they wouldn't know where to start looking, and you doubted you would need it to escape. Vander was too heavy and too weakened to get out the way you had come in.

You scanned the corridors of the warehouse, rusty platforms stacked in a narrow space, and hurried to take up position behind Claggor, the four of you forming a line with Vi in front and Mylo last, slouching forward under the riveted iron pipe railings. Vi signalled to you when she realised that there was a poorly lit room on the upper floor, and you all hurried up the stairs, still crouching. 

When you reached the other side of the corridor, Vi leaned forward, peering quickly, and turned to you with a triumphant smile, voicelessly pronouncing that Vander was there. You rested a hand on Claggor's shoulder as you felt Mylo's on your waist, and you advanced at a rapid pace until you reached the room, where Vander sat, defeated, in a big iron chair, all his limbs imprisoned by metal straps, fastened by padlocks.

You saw him spit blood, his broad chest straining to breathe out a hoarse cough, and he whispered a soft ‘Vi,’ his unfocused eyes closing as he felt his eldest daughter's arms slipping around his shoulders in a hug. His tone became more urgent as he realised you were really there, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘We're breaking you out,’ Vi explained, as you picked up the backpack she had left on the ground.

You opened it, kneeling on the ground, and pulled out the lock-picking device you had built for Mylo. It didn't always work, but it was the best you had. ‘Mylo,’ you called, and tossed the gadget to him.

‘On it!’

You turned towards the door, rising to your feet to check that no one was coming in, your fingers tingling to check the time on a watch you no longer had, but you froze when you heard Vander's husky voice.

‘How... how did you get in?’ he said, stuttering hurriedly over the words that were building up in his mouth. ‘There's guards everywhere.’

Oh God. Of course it had been a trap. 

‘It was easy,’ you heard Vi reply, her tone losing its strength as the realisation dawned on her. ‘We found an open window and...’

You rushed over to the backpack, hastily pulling out the weapons that Claggor and Mylo had gathered, as you saw Claggor's figure hurrying to grab his favourite dagger, trying to release one of Vander's wrists from its prison. The man made eye contact with you, Vi stepping behind you to watch the door, and you held back a sob as you heard Vander again, ‘You have to get out. Now.’

No. You weren't going to leave him again. You weren't going to fail at the same task twice. There had to be time, you could do it. Silco's men probably hadn't even realised you were in yet, you had a chance, you could....

But you heard a clap reverberate through the warehouse, soft and dangerous, and your breath caught in your throat.

Silco.

‘Welcome,’ he murmured, his voice flowing like a river down its course, the sound of his rhythmic clapping coming hopelessly closer to you, ‘you have my congratulations,’ you tried to ignore it, to keep the memory of his tone from bringing back the vision of Benzo's body falling to the ground, but it came to you with the force of a storm, leaving you breathless, ‘but i'm afraid this will be a very short reunion.’

You refused to turn toward him, your hands instinctively gripping Vander's gauntlets, and Vi positioned herself at your side, shooting a defiant glare at the man of mist as she held out her arms for you to place Vander's weapons on her.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ he added, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, ‘Vander the coward fled town with his children. And they were never seen again.’

You finished knotting the second gauntlet to your girlfriend's wrist, the straps stiff but comfortable on her pale skin, and exchanged a glance with her. You were going to make it. You rested your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, and she gave you a fragile but sincere smile, real, just for you. Vi was the best at boxing. You took a quick glance back, your gaze hardening as you saw that Silco was surrounded by his followers, a bunch of buff men and women, all of them ready to fight. You sighed, determined. If there was anyone who could take on a man two heads taller, and visibly stronger, it was her.

You moved your hand up to the nape of her neck, stroking the lower part of her hair, and closed your eyes as you rested your forehead on his. It was a good-luck caress, a wish to go home, a temporary goodbye. She took a breath of air, parting from you reluctantly, as she always did, and positioned herself at your back. You saw the way Claggor's dagger broke from too much pressure, and heard Vi's first step toward the door.

‘Claggor, see if you can find another way out of here,’ you ordered him, rotating your shoulders. You saw him nod, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mylo wrestled with the device in the lock on Vander's right leg. Claggor nodded. Vander looked at you, concerned.

‘You don't have to do this,’ he said, but you knew he was talking to Vi.

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, determined, resolved.

Your priority was to get Vander out of there, to get everyone home safely. You ignored Vander's strangled gasp as Vi's quickened footsteps echoed over the metal lattice floor of the corridor, and you brought your hands to your head, grabbing the two long metal bobby pins you wore in your hair, both sharp and U-shaped. You crouched down next to Vander's other leg, and picked up the padlock. Inventions were your thing, you had to figure out how to open it.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a thud behind you, momentarily startled, but smiled as you saw Vi, exultant in the middle of the bridge, and in the floor the body of the giant tattooed man you had seen when you turned around. That was your girl. You inserted one of the hairpins into the lock hole, noticing how Vander relaxed minimally against the seat as he saw that his daughter was perfectly capable, and then turned the other, recreating the teeth of a key. You imagined the mechanism under the padlock's metal cover, turning its gears to loosen.

Everything was going to be all right.

‘Mylo,’ you heard Vander, and saw out of the corner of your eye that Mylo had slipped the device to the floor. ‘You can do this.’

You looked over at Claggor, your fingers struggling against the lock, and saw that he had found a crack in the wall. There were enough tools in the backpack for him to open a hole. Perfect. You took a breath of air, forcing your wrist to turn the downward facing bobby pin all the way around, and the locking bow opened with a soft snap. You removed the hairpins, withdrawing the lock, and Vander rested his leg on the ground.

‘We're gonna get you out,’ you murmured, crouching down next to Mylo. ‘Hey, Myls,’ you said, laying your hands on top of his, helping him move them nimbly, ‘big breath.’

You felt him inhaling briefly, closing his eyes to feel the gears of the device against his palm, and you exchanged a glance as the smooth sound was repeated, releasing Vander's other leg.

‘We got this,’ he whispered, more encouraged.

‘Of course we do,’ you replied, placing a hand on Vander's knee to pull yourself to your feet.

Vi's soft panting continued to echo off the walls of the warehouse, to the rhythm of the punches of her gauntlet-covered fists as they impacted against the bodies of Silco's minions, and you looked back once more. Vi was rising against a bare-chested man, her shoulders tense, turned so that she could deliver another blow.

You focused on the lock on Vander's wrist as Mylo did the same on the other side of the chair, holding your hairpins tightly, moving your hands as fast as you could. You listened to your heart pounding in your ears, for a moment drowning out all sound from outside, like every time you secluded yourself in your studio, until you heard the first howl.

It reverberated in your mind, emptying it of all thought, like a shadow stretching over you. Deckard. You turned, eyes widening in horror, the mass of flesh that was the boy who had once abused you looming over Vi, and for a moment your heart stopped in your chest. In the darkness, you were only able to make out the fluorescent violet color of his veins, Vi's light pink hair, facing each other. You had seen what Deckard was capable of. You weren't going to let Vi end up like Benzo and those Enforcers.

‘Mylo, hurry,’ Vander pleaded, as you twisted the hairpins urgently, releasing the lock as soon as it gave way.

You turned toward the backpack, watching in horror as Vi leapt toward Deckard, and grabbed the first thing you saw. A piece of pipe, thin and hard against your hand, long enough that you could strike without getting too close. It wasn't a sword, but it would have to do. You looked up, checking that Claggor had already begun removing bricks from the wall, and advanced toward the deck, ignoring the way Deckard had grabbed Vi by the neck.

‘Silco, let her go!’ shouted Vander, slamming his free hand on the armrest of his chair. ‘This is between you and me!’

‘You had your chance,’ Silco replied, not even flinching.

Vi coughed, a choked, desperate sound, followed by a scraped gasp in her throat, seeking oxygen, and you slid onto the metal walkway. Deckard was barely aware that you had moved behind him, too focused on snatching every last breath of air from your girlfriend's lungs, and he dropped her against the ground as you jumped, unloading the pipe against his skull with all the force you had.

Deckard grumbled, an anguished scream spilling from his mouth, and you let go of the pipe, running to Vi. You slung one of her arms over your shoulders, one of yours around her waist, and carried her back to the room where Vander was, panting, the pain in your ankle beginning to awaken. You gritted your teeth, leaving Vi on the floor, leaning against the wall, and charged over to the sliding iron door, doing your best to close it. When you felt the door slam as it hit the wall, blocking Deckard's access, you pushed past the latch, collapsing against the floor, your shoulder pressed up to the door, just in case.

“You did good,” Vander whispered, looking at you, at Vi, his gaze clouded with admiration.

You merely nodded, exhausted, as Claggor continued to throw bricks, opening a large hole in the wall. You felt light, despite your tiredness, and leaned your head against the door. Mylo was struggling with the last lock, but you knew he was going to make it. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a heartbeat, sighing, a moment of quiet before the first bang came. It echoed through the room, metallic and dry, and you felt it coursing through your body. Deckard was trying to reach you all.

You watched as Vi sat up, the one fist that still retained a gauntlet resting on the ground to stand, and tried to crawl to sit beside you, her chest rising and falling at full speed. There was only waiting, you knew. A slow, agonizing wait, until the boys were done with their part of the mission. You felt Vi lean her head on your shoulder, your bodies moving in time to Deckard's pounding, straining against the door to try and hold on as long as it took, and you clenched your jaw.

You were going to make it. A knock, a furtive glance at Mylo, and you heard the soft sound of the lock being released. You were going to make it. One punch, your shoulders tensed, and Vander was finally free. You. Were. Going. To. Make. It. One punch. A gentle squeeze on Vi's free hand. And Claggor finished tore a hole in the wall. You stood up, advancing forward, and then, just silence.

Suddenly, an explosion. You stopped, alert, your eyes wide, and turned to Vi. She had the same terrified expression on her face, one hand resting on the door to pull herself to her feet. You listened carefully over your ragged breathing, your ankle throbbing, your throat dry. Another explosion, closer this time. You turned to Vander, frowning, looking at him as if he could have some kind of answer. He extended his hand toward you, gesturing for Vi to hurry towards them.

A third explosion, and the world around you ceased to exist.

The crackling of the fire, soft and malleable in your ears, was what greeted you when you woke up. Your mouth felt dry, ragged, as if you had swallowed dust, but you opened it anyway, taking in a big breath of air. The oxygen burned your tongue, your eyes still closed, and you tried to move your hands, but you were unable to. You were caught.

The weight of certainty hovered over your ribcage, imprisoning it against the ground, and you moved your head on the cement beneath you, the ground warm against your forehead. You breathed in a second time, your respiration becoming more erratic, and then it hit you. Ashes. There were ashes everywhere, flames eating up the space in the room as if to make you disappear.

You opened your eyes, hearing a faint cough somewhere, and tried to focus your gaze on some point, but you saw only shadows and fire, dancing over you, coming closer, taunting you, and then going away again. You turned your head, looking for some familiar figure, Vander's comforting gaze in the darkness, Vi's soothing touch on your skin, but you were alone. You clenched your jaw, trying to fight against the stone that held you prisoner on the ground, but you found it impossible.

And then, a cry. In a déjà vu, you stirred again under your stone prison, turning toward the desperate sound of Vi's voice. You couldn't see her, but you knew she was there. Your chest was beginning to ache under the weight of the stone, each time managing to breathe less and less air, but you gritted your teeth, struggling, and managed to get a hand out. You mumbled your girlfriend's name, calling her name amidst the chaos, and sobbed when you got no response.

It seemed like the end. You felt dirty, drenched in sweat, stiff under the night of Zaun, and you were unable to perceive your legs, dumb under the stone. They were bricks, probably. Or the roof, perhaps. Snippets of the explosion came back to your memory, the dull sound against your ears, the brutality of the shockwave, and you looked straight ahead again. Vi was there, somewhere, and you had to get to her.

You fought against the cement block above you, trying to move it with your hips, with your arms, doing everything you could to get out of there, until you heard your name. In a wail, low and desperate, to your right. You turned, ignoring the laceration from the edge of the stone on your torso, and saw her. Her clear, frightened gaze, calling for you, the desperate gesture of her body. She was trapped under the metal door.

A growl, a large, dark silhouette in the smoke, and pounding. But you ignored them. You tried to turn a little more, struggling to reach Vi, your fingernails clawing at the ground and the ashes under your hand, dragging you towards her. Then the floor began to shake under your fingers, the ringing in your ears intensifying. The door imprisoning Vi flew off, and she crawled over to you, her hand outstretched in search of yours.

You stretched out your arm to reach for her, flinching as you heard a pained shout from Vander, extending your fingers, reaching out as far as you could for her, but before you could finally touch her fingers, a monstrous figure loomed over both of you, snarling, and grabbed Vi's body, leaping out of the building.

Your hand fell to the ground, defeated, and the walls that were left standing shook with the force of another explosion. You closed your eyes, stubborn, and shook yourself. You had to get to Vi. You had to find her, and Vander, and together you would search for Mylo and Claggor. You would return home. Nothing would have been in vain.

The flames crackled louder around you, almost warning you that getting up was a bad idea, but you ignored them. You weren't going to listen to them. You rested one hand on the ground, the other pulling the stone above you. You weren't strong enough to be able to lift it, but maybe you could wriggle out from under it. You were good at crawling, you could do it. You heard a cry of pain, distant but sharp against your chest, wholly yours. Your shoulder began to burn.

The first drop landed on your cheek. For a moment you thought it was blood, thick and dark against your skin, but then another fell on your chest, light and cool, and a next, and a next. Rain. It was raining. Water, cold and clear, that made the fire sizzle around you. You breathed a sigh of relief as you rested your shoulder on the ground, the dust and rain soothing the burns that threatened to sear your flesh, and leaned forward again. One arm in front of the other, ignoring the pain, pulling yourself back up as you fell to the ground, slowly and achingly moving forward.

Your legs wobbled as you tried to stand up. The bandages on your ankle were soaked in blood, which slid down from your thigh, staining everything in its path. Your torso was bruised, throbbing against your hand, and your ears were ringing. You leaned against the stone that had been above you, towering over it, and blinked, sliding your gaze around the room.

And then you saw them, Mylo and Claggor. Buried under the pieces of ceiling that had collapsed on top of you, motionless, drained of blood. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step toward them, a sob piercing your throat. There was nothing to be done, you knew. Still you knelt beside them, stroking Claggor's face, running your mangled fingers through Mylo's hair. You couldn't leave them. They were your family, you had to take care of them.

Powder's desperate scream echoed across the starry sky of Zaun, and your heart pulled forward in your ribs, your head turning toward the giant gap in the wall. Powder. She was supposed to be safe, in The Last Drop. She wasn't supposed to see any of this. She was supposed to wait for you to come back, in a couple of hours, and hold each other, perhaps commenting on it all as a successful anecdote. Mourning Benzo, honoring his memory.

Powder wasn't supposed to be there.

You rose to your feet once more, brow furrowed in concentration, gritting your teeth as you braced your injured leg on the floor, crawling, leaning against the walls to get out of there. You walked the metal corridors of the deserted building, of the cemetery of concrete and fire, descending the stairs one at a time, holding back the screams of pain that threatened to spill out of your mouth. You had to get to her, protect her, look for Vi, find Vander. Together you'd be okay. You always had been. You could make it through, with Ekko, with your mother's help. You would make it. You could fix it.

The night air greeted you like a slap in the face, the empty street echoing your footsteps. No one was there. You had heard Powder, you were sure. But she wasn't there. In a haze of light and shadow, you saw a body on the ground. Everything was gone, but there was another corpse right in front of you. You approached slowly, limping, gasping for breath, until you were able to recognize his face.

It was not Deckard, as you had wished. It was Vander's bruised and deformed face, turned into a monstrous beast, the violet blood spilled under his body. You put a hand to your mouth, falling to your knees beside him, collapsing. And the lump in your throat finally burst, a scream leaving your mouth, resting your forehead on his chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

You looked up, the loneliness caressing an uneasy shiver across your skin, and stared before you, seeing nothing.

Sometimes your last breath doesn't belong to you. It is stolen, ripped away by others with firm and merciless hands. One second, one heartbeat, one desperate look. One second, one heartbeat, and life leaves your eyes. Other times you hold your breath, the emptiness opening in your chest, deepening as you try to contain it. You tell yourself it's the end, that you need it to be. But it isn't. You end up breathing. You let the oxygen invade you again, even though it feels like a weight on your chest. You keep breathing, even though you wish you weren't.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky , @luvrluvrr , @ssqra , @darkmoonchic , @urlocalsabito , @spicetouched , @astrxwitch , @deadlynightshadebylana , @bachirastoe , @pickmmeup , @your-scarlett-world

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[woozisguitar]

I just saw the orpheus and hades and the post you reblogged, istg I have no idea what it is about but it got me sooo intrigued.

so, here come the request for the 200 followers event, seungcheol as hades, a trope done very mostly, but it's just one specific moment from the Greek mythology that you'd looove so much.

anon I hope you know you unleashed something in me and i cant thank you enough 😭 what a time to write this when im riding off my hadestown/ epic high giving you a little kiss on the forehead (with consent ofc!) okay so hades doesnt really have any major myths/ stories (other than the persephone lore) so i decided to do a small lore kinda thing! really hope you like it!!!!

(long a/n below so feel free to skip that!!! tl;dr: me talking about future projects tbh)

please note: this is NOT lore/ myth accurate. the original myth has a lot of concerning themes and I wanted to focus more on like the longing and yearning bit. this is definitely inspired but in no way accurate!

requests for 200 celebration post: closed

warnings: its based on greek mythology 😭 , being alone and sad, Demeter is a terrible mom, very very toxic, mentions of kidnapping, hints at manipulating/ lying, tbh this explores more of seungcheol as hades's character but it is still x persephone! reader, animal injury (nothing too much in detail tho!), swearing, lmk if I missed any!

hades! seungcheol who was bored and unimpressed when tasked with taking care of the underworld, while his brothers took over the sky and sea. he knew the underworld was a dark and lonely place, and being given the ‘duty’ to take care of such a place felt more like a punishment than a reward. still, he guarded his expressions and took over his new eternal job.

hades! seungcheol who was glad to be able to spend some time away from the dark underworld at mount olympus. being around well, alive people, made him feel better than being surrounded by dead corpses.

hades! seungcheol who was hurt as fuck when his brothers suggested that he should stay in the underworld full time, unless called upon, because his presence made everything ‘dark, gloomy and smell like death.’

hades! seungcheol who accepted his fate of being lonely for the rest of his long, immortal life. on one of his visits to a village that was epidemic to a disease, he found a small puppy whimpering in the corner. he didn't seem too hurt, but seungcheol decided to check if the pup had other injuries. when he approached, he realized this was no ordinary puppy but one who had 3 heads.

hades! seungcheol who took the puppy to the underworld, tended to its small scratches and wounds. the pup, after taking a liking to seungcheol, decided to stay around and for the first time in his life, he had someone who decided to stay willingly. he initially wanted to name it spot, because of a big spot in the middle of its back, but decided to name it cerberus. after all, this was the puppy of the king of the underworld.

hades! seungcheol who spent the rest of his time apart from work, playing and training cerberus and building his empire. when he was given the underworld, no one really knew what it was like. with absolute chaos and no authoritarian power in control, this place was a mess to fix. from making 3 sectors, elysium, a paradise for the good; tartarus, a black pit for the bad; and the asphodel meadows, which numbed the minds of the dead, after a decision is taken on a soul to deciding where a soul would belong, seungcheol had a lot of work to do if he wanted to establish himself as king.

hades! seungcheol constructed a systematic governing system for the underworld, after aeons of working hard, no idea about how much time had passed aboveground. and even after all these years, he felt an ache, a longing in his heart. all his siblings had found themselves partners, or decided to dedicate their time to duties, if they weren't too keen on a romantic partnership. all but seungcheol. he would stay up fantasizing about meeting someone someday and perhaps falling in love with them. the blurred face in his dreams haunted him on most nights, but when he woke up, all the signs and traces of this person disappeared, leaving seungcheol alone in his solitude.

hades! seungcheol who first saw you picking flowers in the fields outside olympus. he was summoned by zeus to discuss some things, not that he really cared. he knew his siblings well enough to know this was yet another temper tantrum. still, he was bored out of his mind in the underworld and decided to humor them this once. on his way to the palace, he saw you collecting flowers with other nymphs and was absolutely smitten by you. the way you were giggling with other nymphs, picking each flower with absolute precision, almost as if to ensure you wouldn't hurt it. seungcheol saw the way your eyes shone in the sunlight and the way the wind fluttered your hair. now, seungcheol wasn't one to fall for someone the first time he saw them. but you, you were different. the nymphs around you took notice of his presence and before they would alert him, he shadow traveled the rest of his way to the palace.

hades!seungcheol who for the love of all gods could not stop thinking about you. he did his ground research after reaching olympus. decades of staying away meant he missed a lot of new gods and events. he found that you were persephone, goddess of spring and daughter of demeter (yikes!). he also found that demeter was rather possessive of her daughter, not allowing her to wander too far or for any of the gods to interact with you without her permission first (double yikes!).

hades!seungcheol who had somehow convinced himself that the best person to ask for advice was his playboy of a brother, zeus. seungcheol saw zeus alone in the throne room, later in the evening, and decided to ask him at once. zeus saw him approach and his eyes lit up, “hades! how are you, my brother!” seungcheol internally cringed at the name zeus used. when he and his siblings took over the reign, they decided to use more god-like names. but seungcheol could never forget the soft murmur of his mother’s voice naming him seungcheol and the faint screams of her agony when his father ate him. seungcheol shook his head to get rid of the memories and walked up to his brother. “i’m well, zeus. how are you?” “i’m great! as great as the most powerful being in this universe could be, i suppose,” his booming laughter made seungcheol wince. such a prick. “so tell me, to what do i owe this pleasure?” seungcheol tightened his jaw, giving himself the last boost of confidence, and uttered, “i need your help in impressing a girl.” a devious grin took over zeus’s face. “well, you’ve come to the right person! and who is this pretty lady you’re planning to charm, my brother?” “persephone... goddess of spring,” seungcheol muttered, looking away. “persephone?? demeter’s daughter persephone?? oh, she’s going to turn you into wheat and feed you to her cattle,” zeus shook his head before his eyes lit up again. “well, there is one way, but it’s rather ... unethical.” when seungcheol motioned for him to continue, he said, “you could, you know, kidnap her and take her to the underworld. that's your realm after all.”

hades!seungcheol who wasn’t sure if he was mad at zeus for suggesting this or mad at himself for even considering it. he weighed the pros and cons before deciding to fuck it. he would deal with the aftermath later, yeah sure. he devised a totally foolproof, amazing plan where he would kidnap you from the fields you would often pick and plant flowers in during the early hours of the day so no one would notice him. curse his dramatics, he couldn’t help but ‘appear’ in front of you from the shadows, startling you. you jumped in fear when you saw a stranger appear from the shadow of the trees, but having heard his legends, you instantly knew this was hades, king of the underworld. he was wearing a black three-piece suit, his hair fixed to perfection. he looked slightly out of place in your field, but you were too scared to take notice. dropping in a small bow, you greeted him. “king hades, to what do i owe this visit?” hades cocked his head to the side and reminded you a bit of a lost puppy. “please, ditch the formalities. you know me?” you stood up straight and nodded at his question. “well, i’ve heard legends about you so…” you mumbled the last part, suddenly feeling flush. hades threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh before straightening up again. “very well then, persephone, goddess of spring, i fear i have to take you to the underworld with me. you see, i wish to have a garden in my home but with no sun or fertility down there, it’s hard to grow anything,” hades pouted and looked at you. “but surely the goddess of spring can pull some strings and help me out?” you contemplated his request for a moment. you knew your mother was very strict, never allowing you to leave this field or home without permission. maybe this was your one chance to see the world beyond by the grace of fates. you saw hades still pouting and looking at you with a silent request in his eyes. eh, i'll get mother to calm down when i come back, you thought to yourself. “alright, i’ll come with you, my lord.” “ah, very well then, let’s go,” hades snapped his fingers and a portal to the underworld opened with a chariot led by shadow-like horses. “and by the way, please call me seungcheol.”

hades!seungcheol who felt his heart beat right out of his chest with you seated next to him on his chariot, gazing at everything in fascination. seungcheol was a man who believed in romance, and the idea of even forming a friendship with you on the foundations of a lie made him feel more guilty than the worst sinner in the fields of punishment. when the two of you got off his chariot on the grounds of his palace, you took a minute to absorb everything around you. seungcheol, on the other hand, stared at the faint glow around you. this dark, gloomy palace felt so much lighter with you around. the thought of watching you planting and picking flowers made him feel a small ball of light in his chest, but the guilt of lying gnawed its way through. he was about to ask you if you’d like to see the rest of his palace when a loud, happy bark tore through the silence. seungcheol saw cerberus run towards you at full speed, knocking you to the ground with the sheer force of his happy zoomies. you giggled when the three-headed pup tried to lick your face all at the same time and you tried to pet all three heads at once. guess he wanted someone new too, huh. seungcheol smiled at the sight. “well, that's cerberus. come on, boy, let her breathe.” cerberus walked back, hopping between you and his owner, his happy barks filling the air. you let out a disbelieving laugh. “this good boy is the scary, guard of the underworld, hound of hades?” you said in a baby voice, petting cerberus, who let out a woof to agree in response. “come on now, let me show you the rest of the palace and the garden.” hades!seungcheol who felt restless throughout the tour while you looked around in awe. he felt pride in knowing that you were so amazed by something he spent aeons building from scratch. cerberus followed the two of you, letting out a happy bark every now and then. when you reached the garden, seungcheol couldn’t hold it in anymore. the guilt of lying was eating away at him in the worst possible way. “persephone, there's something i have to tell you,” he said as the three of you entered the garden. you nodded at him to continue, and he told you everything, from seeing you for the first time to zeus’s suggestion. “i-i really like you, persephone, and i know it's stupid because we don’t know each other, and i don’t know what i was thinking listening to my stupid brother, but i just couldn’t live without telling you the truth,” he finished slightly out of breath. you nodded, taking it all in. you knew all about how the gods would claim to love then leave, but seungcheol’s honesty made you want to give him a chance. plus, it’s not every day the king of the underworld ends up liking you. getting tired of the same field and flowers, you decided to give this a chance with seungcheol. you walked closer to him and whispered, “i would like you to call me y/n.”

hades!seungcheol who bid you farewell with a heavy heart. he told you that if you want to keep coming back, you’d have to eat the fruit of the underworld, pomegranate seeds. you smirked and took a handful, popping them in your mouth. after spending a few hours exploring his palace, you decided it was time to go back before your mother wrecked havoc on the world. you and seungcheol had an odd arrangement. on some days, you would come down to him and spend the early morning walking around his palace, and on other days, he would visit you late at night, and you would show him your field. giggling away in hiding, for the longest time the two of you didn’t feel completely alone in a room full of people. seungcheol made a point to attend all the stupid parties the gods hosted in hopes of catching you there. a sneaking look, a fleeting smile was enough to make both your hearts flutter. one night, seungcheol was on his way to see you, but when he knocked on your window, your mother demeter opened it. he saw you trying to hide behind her, tears stained on your cheeks. seungcheol felt an unexplainable urge to hurt whoever did this to his beloved, and the shadows around the room bent towards him. demeter felt the power surge but held her ground. “persephone, go to my room,” she said, giving her no chance to argue. with one last look at seungcheol, you walked out, leaving him alone with your mother. “what do you want from her?” demeter growled. “nothing wrong, i promise. i want to marry your daughter. i-i love her.” “don’t fucking lie to me, hades. i know the likes of you. all you dogs are the same,” she spat out. “you leave her the fuck alone. i don’t care what games you’re trying to play, but she will be no part of it.” “i’m not like them,” seungcheol whispered, “I really, really love her. you can ask her yourself. i never pressured her into doing anything and i never will. demeter, please, i’m not trying to play any games, i swear.” hades!seungcheol who, for the first time in his long life, went down on his knees to beg your mother. demeter watched as one of the big three, king of the underworld realm, begged on his knees. with distaste, she told him to follow. when she entered, she asked you, “did he ever try to do something to you? and don’t you dare try to cover for him because i will know,” she gave you a pointed look. you looked at seungcheol, who was already staring at you. “n-no. he never did anything i wasn’t comfortable with, i swear, mother, i lov-” demeter cut you off by showing her hand as if to say enough. she turned her back towards you, and seungcheol slowly approached, sneaking an arm around you. “very well then, since hades here,” she sneered, “claims to love you and you love him, i approve of this marriage.” equally wide smiles broke out on both yours and seungcheol’s faces. “but,” your mother continued, “you will spend only half of the year, six moon cycles, with him. after that, you will come back to me. you are, after all, the goddess of spring, and the aboveworld needs you more than the land of the dead,” she ended bitterly, almost like the word itself left a terrible taste in her mouth. you tried to argue how it was unfair, but she held her hand up. “it is this or nothing,” she said with a tone of finality. before you could try to reason with her, seungcheol spoke up in a low voice, “very well. i will take her as my bride, and she will stay with me for half of the year and with you for the other half.” demeter smirked and, with a sense of victory, turned around on her heel. “well, i’ll go inform my nymphs that we have a wedding to prepare for,” she said, leaving you alone with seungcheol.

hades!seungcheol who embraced you the second your mother left, holding you close to his chest as you sobbed. “why did you agree with her?” you asked in between sobs. seungcheol bent to your height, cupping your face, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “because, my love, i would rather have you in my arms for a moment than not have you in my life at all. my whole life, it-it has been very, very lonely. and then i met you, and it was almost as if you bloomed flowers all over my barren heart,” he giggled wetly, “i agreed with her because i knew she would never let me have you all to myself. you’re so amazing, my y/n, and the fact i will be able to share half a year with you in my arms is already a blessing for me. you will be my queen, the one who rules my kingdom alongside me. my persephone. my y/n. i don’t think i could give you up for anything this world and universe had to offer. i-i love you...” he ended, body shaking in sobs. you smiled at him in your equally teary, messy state and went on your tiptoes. you kissed him deeply, pouring all your emotions. you felt like your heart was about to explode with all the love you felt for him. when you pulled apart, out of breath, seungcheol leaned his forehead on yours. “i love you, my seungcheol,” you whispered, and the prettiest smile broke out on his tear-stricken face.

hades!seungcheol who, for the first time in his life, didn’t feel so utterly alone and hopeless. when you, his wife, was in the underworld, you consumed all his waking moments, trying to make up for lost time. and when you were aboveground, both he and cerberus waited for your return. over time, this arrangement felt easier, time would feel shorter, and he got demeter to agree to let him visit you for those six months above ground. whenever he held you in his arms, he felt content knowing that no matter how far you would go, you would always find your way back to him. forever, his queen, his y/n.

a/n: I am SO sorry for disappearing. work is killing my ass. so I have 2 plans. one is to complete all my reqs I still have a few (many) remaining and second is to one a long fic for my birthday. it is also based on a greek mythology epic (pretty much an orpheus x eurydice retelling starring jihoon) and that will hopefully be scheduled for my birthday (27th of this month) please let me know if you will be interested in the birthday fic or if I should do something else! also im closing my reqs for a bit I have a lot to catch up on. I want to post all the backlog fics before I take on new reqs but feel free to drop in a say a hi (or remind me to follow you im going on a follow spree after this!) or if you have any suggestions for the birthday event!! again so sorry for dropping I will try to stay more consistent!!!

[maldaptivedreamer]

Lonely Souls - Arcane

One lonely soul comforts another for a night.

content: Vi x reader, errors/mistakes, pit fighter Vi, alcoholism to cope, drunk Vi, vulnerable Vi, injured Vi, name calling, no sex but intimacy, reader bathes Vi, brief aggression from man at beginning, angst/comfort i think

wc: ~3.5k

a/n: Sooo, this is my first Arcane fic, but insanely excited. Don't know if this good but I have more I'm workin on. Can't believe arcane's over and idk wth I'm sposed to do now.

MINORS DNI NSFW 18+

Main Masterlist

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you massage your temple with two fingers, trying to ease the building headache.

“You frigid whore! Think you’re too good for me!?! For my money!?!” The man struggles helplessly in the unmoving arms of Wik. Wik grunts, his expression unreadable as he gazes at you.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you dismiss Wik with a wave of your hand. He silently turns and disappears, the beaded curtains rattling together behind him. The man’s hysterical screaming rings in your ears.

Sinking back into the plush cushions of the couch, you sigh and shut your eyes.

Click. Click. Click.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor interrupts your attempt to ease the strain in your eyes.

You frown and slowly raise your head to face her. With a raised eyebrow, you wait.

Babbette's large, crimson eyes are narrowed in concern. She takes a step toward you, lifting a slim hand. Rolling your eyes, you reluctantly lift your arm into her grip. Her long nails dig into your skin as she inspects the deep scratches marring its surface.

Her eyes darken briefly before she releases your arm, allowing you to pull it back. With a dry tone, you speak. “I’m fine… Guess, I should stick to my regulars, huh?”

Babbette doesn't entertain your joke. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, studying you carefully for a long moment before finally speaking up. “Any chance you wanna tell me why you’re here? You don’t have any clients today…” You ignore the knowing tone of her voice.

Maintaining steady eye contact, you shrug stoically. “No.”

Babbette gives you a meaingful look but nods in understanding, silently waving her cigarette at you as she turns to leave. "Go home. Don't come back unless you have a client," she warns you before disappearing between the beaded curtains.

You watch her leave, the clicking of her heels fading. The silence that follows is deafening, the sounds of the brothel beyond your room feeling far and distant.

Sighing deeply, you rub a harsh hand over your face. The adrenaline from the earlier altercation is wearing off, leaving you feeling drained and hollow.

You know why you're here. But admitting it, even to yourself, feels like a step you're not ready to take. It's easier to lose yourself in the brothel, in the false intimacy and fleeting connections. Anything to avoid facing the emptiness that awaits you at home.

Slowly, you rise from the cushions, your body protesting with every movement. The scratches on your arm burn as you reach for your coat.

Gritting your teeth, you step out into the grimy street. The smell of vomit and stale beer invades your nostrils and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. The pounding behind your eyes intensifies, throbbing in sync with the pulsing of neon lights.

With a huff, you wrap your coat tighter around your body. 

As you continue walking, the crowd thins and the darkness grows deeper. You feel a sense of relief at the quiet, your headache slowly easing.

Your home. Small. Dingy. But it's yours. 

You can feel the tension in your body simultaneously ease and worsen with each step you take. Swallowing hard, you try to push down the growing sense of loneliness in your stomach and the conflicting need to be alone.

The feeling of another person is overwhelming. It burns your skin. Makes you want to peel it back and run… But it can be freeing. Touching someone else, caring for someone else and tending to their needs brings you a deep sense of contentment. You crave, yearn for it, that connection with someone. A connection that you’ll never have.

That sense of loss is overwhelming and you feel a gasp bubbling in your throat. Stumbling into a wall as you choke on your breath, you allow the cool brick to ground you. Closing your eyes, you run a hand over the rough texture of brick. 

A sudden crash and slurred cursing from a nearby alley startles you. The tightness in your chest eases, replaced by a rush of adrenaline as your instincts kick in. As you cautiously approach the noise, your hand slips into the pocket of your skirt.

But as you round the corner, your posture relaxes and your hand falls limp at your side. You recognize the figure- drunk, off balance and stumbling, but familiar. 

Vi. Your heart clenches at the sight of her, drunk and alone.

She’s become one of your regulars. A client, the only client, that makes your job not feel like one. You’ve developed a certain… fondness for her. One you shouldn’t have. One that could get you into trouble… like today.

It's impossible to deny the growing affection you have for her. After all, the loneliness in her eyes is one you know intimately- in every lingering touch, every desperate grip on your skin, every breath consumed.

"Vi?" you call softly, stepping into the alley.

She twists, nearly losing her balance as she faces you. Her clouded blue eyes struggle to find you in the dim light and she squints as she tries to place you. Recognition dawns slowly.

“Princess, watchu doin’ here?” Her slurred words muddle together and you sigh, taking in her disheveled appearance. You can make out a fresh bruise on her cheekbone.

"I could ask you the same thing." Your reply is soft and you take careful steps closer, your heels echoing in the narrow alley. "You okay?"

Vi snorts. "’M doin’ jus’ peachy, princess." Her shoe catches on a pile of garbage and she stumbles.

You quickly step forward, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady her before she falls. As soon as your hands meet her skin, she collapses into you, her head burying itself in the crook of your neck. You grunt as she leans into you, your knees almost buckling beneath you. You can smell the cheap liquor on her breath, mixed with the scent of sweat and blood on her skin.

The smell of alcohol intensifies as she mumbles against your skin, her words barely decipherable. "'M tired, princess… So fuckin' tired."

Furrowing your brow with concern, you hold her close to you, supporting her weight as she leans on you. "Let's get you home." Your voice is tender. "Where are you staying, gorgeous?" You hate seeing her like this. You’ve only ever seen her hurting. You desperately wish you could take away all of her pain, all of her hurt.

She doesn't answer and you gently nudge her, coaxing her eyes to meet yours. Seeing that you have her attention, you repeat your question. “Vi, where’s your home?”

She shrugs and tightens her arm around you. With a vague wave of her hand, she responds, nearly losing her balance. "Dunno. Don't matter."

Your heart clenches at the lost look in her eyes. You know you shouldn't, but… "My place isn't far."

Vi's unfocused gaze finds yours, a flicker of surprise crossing her powder blue eyes before they darken in defense. Her voice is gruff and the clearest it’s been. “You don’t have to.”

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness in your chest. "I know I don't have to. I want to."

Vi stares at you for a long moment, her brows downturned in a frown.

With a nonchalant shrug of your shoulder, you attempt to give her an unconcerned glance. “You’ve got two options, gorgeous. A mediocre, semi-warm, semi-soft bed. Or a shitty alley.”

After a moment of contemplation, she nods and leans more of her weight against you. "Lead the way, princess."

The walk to your apartment is slow and unsteady. Vi stumbles more than once, and you have to pause frequently to readjust your grip on her. By the time you reach your door, you're both breathing heavily.

You fumble with your keys, struggling to keep Vi upright with one arm while unlocking the door with the other. Finally, you manage to get inside, kicking the door shut behind you.

Darkness greets you as you stagger into your apartment, wincing when your toe painfully collides with a sharp corner.

Vi chuckles at your soft curse, her breath hot against your neck. "Smooth, princess."

With groping hands, you search for the light switch amidst the darkness and roll your eyes. "Yeah and you’re just the epitome of smooth right now, gorgeous."

With gentle yet confident steps, you guide her further into your apartment. You can't help but feel a little self-conscious about the mess of your home, but you try to push those thoughts aside as you focus on helping Vi.

Entering your bedroom, she suddenly tenses up, her muscles tightening beneath your hands. "Wait," she slurs, trying to pull away. "I can't... I don't have any money on me."

A lump forms in your throat at her words. "Hey, no," you say softly yet firmly, facing her with empathy in your eyes. "This isn't about money, Vi. I'm just trying to help you."

She blinks at you, confusion clear in her bleary eyes. "But… why?"

Swallowing back your own emotions, you choose to ignore her question.

Vi grunts as you guide her to your small bed, her weight nearly pulling you both down. You manage to lower her onto the mattress, where she immediately flops onto her back with a groan.

"Shit, princess," she slurs, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Your place is nicer than mine."

You snort softly, moving to remove her boots. "Doubt that. It's a shithole, but it's home."

Vi props herself up on her elbows, watching you with glossy eyes and she repeats her question. "Why're you doin' this?" she asks, her voice small and uncertain.

You pause, looking up at her. Your throat tightens as you find yourself unable to look away at the raw vulnerability in her stare. "I… maybe I see a little bit of myself in you… and I- I care about you, Vi." You admit hoarsely, the words heavy with truth and emotion. You swallow hard, knowing that you are treading dangerous waters with your confession. Your voice comes out in a low whisper, almost apologetically. "Maybe more than I should."

She stares at you, her brow creasing in confusion and uncertainty. But before she can respond, you quickly rise to your feet, needing to create distance between you both. “The water is lukewarm at best, but there’s a shower through the door.” You offer awkwardly, gesturing towards the bathroom with a trembling hand. You try to compose yourself by smoothing down the wrinkles in your dress.

Turning to leave, you wince at the sound of your own footsteps echoing in the quiet room. Hesitating at the door, you spin back to face her with a soft look, hoping she can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Do- do you think that you’ll need help?” Your words hang heavy in the air.

The brothel was a world of its own, where the air was thick with desire and the walls were lined with secrets. While there was a slight sense of yearning with each lingering caress, every gentle brush of the other’s lips, this is different. This is far more vulnerable and intimate than lust. This would mean more.

You both know that this will change everything.

Vi's eyes soften, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. She swallows hard, her throat bobbing. "I... yeah. I think so." She admits, her voice rough.

You silently nod as you try to process the weight of the trust she's placing in you.

With careful tenderness, you help Vi to her feet and guide her towards the small bathroom. Her eyes remain downcast, refusing to meet yours.

Placing her on the toilet seat, you turn to the bathtub. The sound of rushing water fills the cramped space, bouncing off the tiled walls. Guiding Vi out of her jacket, her muscles tense under your touch but she doesn't pull away. You can see the pain etched on her face as she struggles to hide it.

Taking a deep breath, you fight to keep your expression neutral. Her delicate skin is marred with bruises - some still angry and inflamed, others fading into sickly greens and yellows. Small cuts line her arms, their edges crusted over with dried blood.

Setting aside her jacket, you carefully begin to unroll the bandages on her arms. Each strip reveals more damaged skin underneath. Your heart aches as you run your hands over the tender areas, trying to soothe away some of the hurt. Vi's eyes flutter closed, her tense body slowly relaxing under your gentle touch.

Moving on to the next arm, you continue to remove the bandages with careful precision.

As you step away from her, Vi's hand darts out to grab yours in a desperate hold. Meeting her gaze with a reassuring look, you press your lips to her bruised knuckles before gently laying her hand on her lap. Patting it softly, you slowly move towards the tub and turn off the water.

Licking your dry lips, you lower to your knees. Inhaling, your fingers hover over the bandages on her chest. Despite Vi's nod of approval, your fingers still hesitate as they reach for the bandages. She nods again and raises her arms with a wince.You peel away the gauze slowly.. Each layer falls away, exposing more of her skin. You keep your movements clinical, professional.

Not glancing at her chest, you watch her blue eyes. Searching for any sign of uncomfortability or hesitation.

Giving her a soft smile, you shove the bandages in a small pile and raise your hands to her pants. Your soft voice pierces the peaceful atmosphere. “Think you can help me out?”

Nodding, she grunts with effort as she rises from the toilet. Rising, you help her undo her pants and she steadies herself on your shoulders.

Stepping out her pants, she watches you glance at her from beneath your lashes. Vi feels a discomforting warmth at your care, your softness. Licking her dry lips, her voice comes out raspy in vulnerability that she tries to hide. “If I was sober, princess, I'd be taking you apart right now."

You send her a kind but perceptive look."I know, gorgeous." You murmur, helping her step into the tub. "Let's focus on taking care of you first."

Vi hisses as she sinks into the warm water, her muscles tensing before slowly relaxing. You grab a washcloth and begin to gently clean her wounds, careful not to aggravate the wounds that litter her skin. The washcloth quickly dirties and you grab another.

You bring the fresh cloth to her face and begin to wipe her face free of black grease. Vi watches you with heavy-lidded eyes. "I’m sorry." she slurs, her voice thick with exhaustion and lingering alcohol.

You pause, the washcloth hovering over the VI on her cheek, and meet her guilty eyes. "You have nothing to be sorry for Vi. Not to me."

She shakes her head, as she pulls away from your touch. Drawing her knees to her chest, she wraps her arms around them and turns to face the wall. "I-” Vi chokes out, but stops as sobs wrack through her body.

You can feel tears cloud your eyes and you envelop her in your arms. She quickly shoves her face into your neck and pulls you to her desperately. 

You ignore the material of your shirt sticking to your skin, the smell of sweat and alcohol that still lingers on her skin. Ignore the rim of the tub as it digs into your hips. Ignore the way her nails claw into your skin in anguish.

You hold Vi as she cries, her body shaking with each sob. Your fingers thread through her damp black hair, gently massaging her scalp in an attempt to soothe her. The water sloshes around her as she trembles, but you pay it no mind, focused solely on comforting the broken woman in your arms.

"Shh, I've got you, Vi. You're safe." You murmur softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I’m here."

Her sobs gradually subside, replaced by shaky breaths and occasional hiccups. She doesn't move from your embrace, her face still buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel her eyelashes flutter against your skin as she blinks away the last of her tears.

"I'm a mess." Vi’s voice is hoarse and muffled against your skin.

You release an understanding breath and speak dryly. “I don’t know anyone who isn’t, gorgeous.”

You part from her and cup her face gently, your thumb tracing the tattoo on her cheek. “Think you can stand, gorgeous.” You nudge your head at the darkened water. “Your skin’s gettin’ wrinkly and I think you need to rinse off again.”

Vi nods weakly, her eyes still red-rimmed and puffy. You help her to her feet, steadying her as she sways slightly. 

The water drains away, grime and blood swirling down. You turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature before guiding Vi under the spray.

You step into the shower and let her lean on you as you run your lathered hands across her skin. Vi stands still, allowing you to care for her.

You can feel how exhausted she is as she presses into you. Her hands loosely wrapped around your hips.

Humming, you tap her back and tenderly remove her face from your neck. Her long lashes brush her cheeks as she closes her eyes. Your soft fingers rub any remnants of grime and makeup from her face.

Vi leans into your touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips as you scrub the soap through her hair. She releases a hushed breath as your fingers comb over her head, savoring the feeling of your hands massaging gentle circles on her scalp. The warm water cascades over both of you, steam rising around your bodies. 

"Feels nice." She murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of running water.

Your lips twitch into a small smile as you continue your ministrations. "Good. You deserve to feel nice, Vi."

Her eyes flutter open at that, meeting yours with a mixture of vulnerability and uncertainty. You hold her gaze, your fingers still working through her hair.

"Do I?" she asks, her voice small and hesitant.

Your heart clenches at the doubt in her voice. "You do.” Smoothing your hands across her face, you push her head back and rinse her hair. “Wash yourself and then we’ll be all done, gorgeous.”

Vi nods slowly, her movements still unsteady as she begins to wash her intimate areas. You keep a supportive hand on her waist, ready to catch her if she stumbles. As she finishes, you turn off the water and reach for a towel.

Wrapping the towel around her, you help Vi step out of the shower. Exhaustion is evident in every line of her body and you dry her to the best of your ability. Your clothes and hair leave a trail of water as you guide her back to the bedroom, sitting her on the edge of the bed.

"Wait here," you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll get you something to wear."

You rummage through your drawers, pulling out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of soft shorts. When you turn back, Vi is slumped forward, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow.

Touching her shoulder, you gather the shirt in your arms and stretch the collar over her head. Vi lazily helps you put her arms through the shirt and you bend to drag the shorts up her legs.

Vi's eyelids flutter, her gaze unfocused as you finish dressing her. She mumbles something incoherent, her head lolling forward. You catch her gently, easing her back onto the bed.

"Easy there, gorgeous," you murmur, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead.

You maneuver her under the covers, tucking them around her body. Vi burrows into the pillow, her eyes already closed. You stand there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of her chest, feeling a wave of protectiveness wash over you.

Sighing softly, you turn to leave, but a hand shoots out from under the covers, grasping weakly at your wrist.

"Stay," Vi mumbles, her eyes cracking open just enough to meet yours. "Please."

Your heart stutters in your chest. You know you shouldn't. But the vulnerability in her gaze, the need in her voice, makes your resolve crumble.

"Okay." You whisper back. "Just let me change and I’ll be right-”

Her blue eyes shoot open and her grip grows tighter. “Please don’t leave.”

You waver and lick your lips in resignation, nodding. Gently untangling her grip on your hand, she watches you go to your dresser and pull out another pair of clothes.

She calms as you quickly change and climb into bed behind her.

Vi immediately turns and burrows into your chest, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You can feel her breath hot against your collarbone, her body trembling slightly.

"I've got you. I’m here," you murmur, running your fingers through her damp hair.

She nods against your chest. You can feel the tension slowly leaving her body as you continue to stroke her hair, humming softly under your breath.

The room falls silent save for the sound of your quiet humming and Vi's steadying breaths.

[miguelhugger2099]

Him and I (1/2)

Summary: You get thrown into another, another dimension while on a mission with Miguel. You end up meeting Miguel's variant where lingering feelings lie. Next Comic!Miguel x Reader x ATSV!Miguel, SMUT, PWP, Word Count: 6,808 CW: just a smidge of voyeurism

It was rough how you ended up here in another dimension and it wasn’t ideal either. Earlier, you were on a mission with Miguel and doing the usual of tracking and containing anomalies. However, this one was a little rough, giving both you and Miguel a hard time with how slippery it had been.  Arriving at the scene, Miguel quickly barked orders at you to scan the place to track and trace any possible disrupted canon events. While he went one way, you went the other and for a while, neither of you had been able to grab it. Until your watch pinged with a hologram of Miguel’s face calling to tell you he found the anomaly and was leading it towards you for some backup. Putting on your mask, you swung away on your webs to meet him halfway.

One thing led to another and both of you were hollering at each other different plans and strategies since this anomaly was somehow escaping every chance it got. Miguel grabbed on its neck and yanked it back which made it screech and slam him against a brick wall. He grunted and let go from the sheer force of it. The anomaly went head first for you to which you jumped on its back. Eventually, you held onto it and tried to use your watch to open a portal. The anomaly tried ripping you off it, scratching your watch and damaging the touch pad. Whatever number you tried putting in, was jumbled up and yet a portal opened up anyway. Time and space warped around you two, the wormhole trying to suck up anything. The anomaly then grabbed you and ripped you off its back, throwing you into the portal which shut right after you went through. So here you are, in a dimension that isn’t your New York, but it did look like a certain someone’s Nueva York. Tall buildings, hovercrafts and holographic billboards were plastered everywhere. You looked down at your watch and saw claw marks on the touchpad, small sparks of electricity fizzed out but it wasn’t too damaged, you decided. You weren’t glitching so you counted that as a win. You heard a familiar zip of web shooters being used from above. Tilting your head up, you saw the familiar red and mostly blue suit swinging by and ignoring you. You squinted at the figure leaving.

“Miguel…?” You whispered to yourself. Pushing the watch problem aside, you began following him, trying to catch up to him. “Miguel!” You called out through the whipping winds as you gained speed.

His figure thwipped around, seemingly trying to get you off his tail. You grew frustrated. Why was he just avoiding you? If he was here, that means the anomaly had gotten away and it’d be more work for both of you.

He then made a sharp turn around a tall building. You nearly passed it but you stopped yourself just in time to swivel your head around to see where he had gone. Your eyes honed in on his figure crawling up the side of the building and into an open window. With determination, you shot your web to the building and began crawling up. Once you made it to the damn near very top, you opened the window and crawled in. With your feet now planted on the floor, you took off your mask and looked around. It was a bedroom and a large one at that with a giant king sized bed and a giant set up where you assumed would display a holographic screen. You noted it was dark too with all the lights switched off and Miguel was nowhere to be seen. You were sure you saw him crawl in this room. You began walking around the room just to make sure, trying to find anything. When you didn’t–the lack of pictures was appalling– you made your way over to the bedroom door and took a peek outside of it. The hallways were just as dark, if not darker. You took a step out and squinted your eyes, hoping your vision would adjust to the lighting.

You heard a shift far in front of you and paused in your steps. You tried focusing on whatever was in front of you and that’s when you saw red eyes. You froze and held your breath while the eyes simply watched you, slightly moving as it seemingly saw you through the dark.

These eyes were familiar to you and so you dropped your guard. “Miguel…?” You called out again. “What the hell? I was right behind you! Did the anomaly throw you in here too?”

You tried approaching him but then backed up when he came closer as well, at a faster rate than you thought. Your gasped and your spider senses went haywire. With a bit of difficulty on your end, you looked up to see someone who wasn’t Miguel. Or you thought.

The man had Miguel’s scarlet orbs, but instead of brown hair he had dark red hair to match his eyes. Instead of brown skin, he had white skin. He had a similar face shape with the same sharp cheekbones and strong jawline but his face was a bit longer than that. You noticed a five o’clock shadow he might’ve been planning to shave off soon. His height was shorter than your Miguel but it was still tall enough to tower over you. His face was in a scowl, teeth bared and claws unsheathed, on guard for the danger that he decided you were. You took a glance down his chest, the spider emblem different than you remember–much sharper than your Miguel’s geometric shapes.

“Who…who are you?” You asked, taking a few steps back and this man following, his eyes never leaving yours. If you searched for a while longer, you would’ve seen a hint of disbelief and hidden fondness.

“Miguel O’Hara. Who are you?” He growled. You gulped flinching when your back hit the wall and his clawed hand struck the space by your head to cage you against him.

You stated your name with a shake of your voice. It seemed to anger him further.

“Don’t lie to me.” He grit his teeth, his lips curled to show his fangs.

“It–It’s not! I swear!” You insisted. “Listen, I can explain. I’m from another dimension. I–I’m part of this society full of other people like us—with spider powers. I got…blasted here by some villain when I was with you—or the variant you–but I’m not here to fight some more.” You sighed, hoping he could have some sense and maybe believe you.

Miguel’s eyes narrowed down at you to search and scan for just an ounce of lying in your tone but he found none. His facade cracked for a moment, almost melancholy and sad before hardening again. He separated from you, standing taller and retracting his talons back to his fingertips. You saw him hesitate to lift his hand up but he decided against it. “How did you get here?” He asked lowly.

You lifted your wrist to show your damaged watch. “It’s more or less a dimension hopping device,” You elaborated. Miguel attempted to slip it off your wrist but you stopped him. “I have to keep it on or else I’ll start glitching and–it hurts.” You laughed nervously a bit at the end. Miguel’s facial expression didn’t waver. He only held your wrist–gently at that– and turned it around to examine it.

“I can fix it.” He murmured nonchalantly with a raise of his reddish eyebrow. You sighed. Even in another dimension, Miguel is just as sure of himself. He looked up to meet your eyes, softer but still guarded. “If you’ll let me.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! Yes, please, of course. That’d be great. Thank you.” He let go of your hand and turned around to a space in his home where various inventions laid around and you followed suit with big eyes. “Woah… This is..cool.” You mumbled. Miguel looked over his shoulder as he walked, a ghost of a fond smile on his lips when you weren’t looking. Then suddenly, a bright yellow figure popped up. She was life sized with long white blonde hair in a side part with a white long dress.

“Welcome home, Miguel,” She placed her hands behind her back and gave him a dimpled smile. Her smile faltered when she saw you. “Is that–”

Miguel cut her off by introducing your name to her. “She’s from another dimension. That’s all, Lyla.” You couldn’t see Miguels face but you did see Lyla’s–which you were surprised at the stark difference. You saw her eyes glance at Miguel and then stand up a bit taller, her smile coming back. It was as if they had a mutual understanding.

“Of course, Miguel.” She closed her eyes and phased out again, leaving the two of you alone again. Miguel turned around to face you and gestured to a stool by a nearby table. You walked over and sat on it, Miguel grabbing another chair–and a toolbox it seemed–and placing himself beside you. He offered his hand and you gave it to him, your size difference being much clearer. Miguel took off his suit gloves which surprised you once more since your Miguel’s suit wasn’t necessarily standard fabric like this one. But since this one had claws too, the suit must also be made of some technology you’re not aware of.

Miguel took a look inside the damage the claws had done to the watch and began working on it silently. You took the time to notice his features and began comparing it to the other Miguel subconsciously.

The five o’clock shadow you had noticed before was also coming in red. It seemed like this version of Miguel leaned more into his Irish side. His hair was in a short side part, with his fringe falling on his forehead but he didn’t seem to pay any mind to it. The small glances he took at you made you see his eyes more clearly. They were the same red as your Miguel and equally as beautiful.

You pushed that thought away. It was strange to think that way about your boss’ variant, much less your boss himself. You admit he’s handsome–the two of them– and you could also tell that they knew that.

“Had enough staring?” He asked when you turn away to shake off your thoughts. If you didn’t know any better, it’d sound like he was teasing you.

“Have you?” You shot back. “I saw you staring too.”

“I was.” Miguel answered simply. He placed a screwdriver down, popping open the screen and examining it further. “Sorry about that. You…remind me of someone.”

The air had felt heavier. You had a gut feeling and you decided to see if you were right. “Did you know another me?”

Miguel nods, not looking up. “My own you, she passed,” He picks apart the device carefully, making sure to not damage it further. “Seeing you and sensing you…I was convinced you were some villain trying to haunt me. But I know now that it’s not true.” He says with little to no emotion. Maybe he was just hiding it under a facade. It wouldn’t be the first time you were on that end.

“I’m sorry,” You tried to apologize but he stood up, taking a piece of your watch with him.

“Nothing’s really damaged other than the screen. It shouldn’t be a problem to fix.” He says softly, and turns away to another side of the room. You purse your lips, deciding whether or not to play into his bad habits of closing off when he just opened up. You decided the former and asked another question.

“How long will it take?”

He pauses. “Do you hate it here already?”

“What?! No. No, of course not! I mean, I can't hate what I don’t know. Not to say I don’t know you. I know a Miguel just maybe you’re different. Which isn’t a bad thing but it’s just I can’t overstay–I need to go home because that would be invading your space.”

Miguel looks over at you and the corners of his lips are turned up. “I was joking.”

You stop your rambling and frown at him. “Your humor is bland.” Miguel laughs through his nose and shakes his head.

“You’re still the same…” He murmurs to himself. He shrugs off that thought, thinking it was disrespectful to the you that he once knew.

“It won’t take long,” He speaks to you. “I don’t have the exact materials as this but it’s still possible to make them. It should take a couple days. Maybe a little more or less a week.” He pulls up a holographic monitor and touches across the screen.

A week, you thought to yourself, at best. Miguel took another look around the damaged screen he’d plucked off your watch.

“Did I make this?” He looked over at you and you instinctively sat up straighter. “The other me.” He clarified.

“Well, yeah,” You shrugged on one side. “Made the blueprint and had Lyla help make it.”

“Lyla?” He hummed with a raise of his eyebrows. “Hm.” His jaw clenched, feeling a tinge of envy for his counterpart. He did dimensional travel and he had you around? It wasn’t fair. With a click of his tongue, he placed the screen back down and moved away from the table, opting out to type things you couldn’t see on another monitor.

You felt awkward sitting there with nothing to do so you stood up and looked around, keeping a respectful distance from Miguel and his things. You didn’t notice the way he stopped typing and admired you through the reflection of his monitor.

Same curve of your nose, shape of your jaw, same way your eyelashes fluttered. Miguel wished you were a ghost in that moment, maybe then he wouldn’t feel that agonizing itch to hold you again. “Do you…want a change of clothes?” He asked you, pulling you out of your bubble. “I have some of her things still here, lying around.” He offered, trying to appear nonchalant. You looked down at your spider suit. It was a bit dirtied from being thrown around so you could use a pair of comfortable clothes.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to ruin her things or anything.”

Miguel shook his head and made his way out, ushering you to follow him. “I insist. I’d rather her things be used than lying around anyway.” You two had walked into his bedroom again. He opened his bottom drawer and pulled out some shirt and sweatpants. He held onto them a little longer before inhaling and passing them to you.

You looked at the clothes, noting how he looked at them “I really don’t have to wear them–”

“Please.” Miguel insisted. You blinked once and licked your lips, giving him time to make sure before you took it in your hands. You held it close to your chest.

“Bathroom?” You asked. He pointed down the hall and you followed, closing the door behind you and leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts. He rummaged through his drawer to find his own set of comfortable clothes outside his suit. He thought to himself, thinking about you and trying to find any differences. Your nose bridge was different but the tip of it was the same. Your hair texture was the same but you had a slightly different hue.

He didn’t know whether or not he wanted to help you. On one hand, you were the ghost of his past–the figure that taunted him of his failures as Miguel and as Spider-Man. But on the other hand, he missed you. All he ever wanted was to see you again and he wanted to selfishly keep seeing you. He sat at the edge of his bed, battling with his inner thoughts until he heard you come back.

Miguel looked up and got the wind knocked out of his chest. They fit you perfectly like you bought these yourself. You smiled awkwardly at him, thinking it was weird for him to see you in his dead girlfriend's clothes but he just nodded.

“Looks like it fits.” He choked out.

“They do. Thanks, again.” You smiled wearily. One week. He’d enjoy you for one week and maybe–just maybe– ask if you can come back.

Miguel didn't like the fact you offered to stay in his penthouse while he did his Spider-Man duties. Even more so when he knew you didn’t like sitting still either and only offered out of politeness. He guessed that if you were anything like him now, a being with super powers, it meant you also felt a responsibility to do something and help people. So, he invited you to join his patrols.

You declined at first. “I’ve already crashed your universe–”

“Would it kill you to just join me without being so high and mighty?” He asked with a pointed look knowing you were too nice for your own good even in his universe. You sighed through your nose and reluctantly agreed, still feeling awkward around him despite his not so stubble attempts to make you comfortable. Which was strange considering your initial hostile encounter.

For the next few days, it seemed patrolling was a nice bonding time for you two. Surprisingly, you worked well together like he knew just how you worked and acted accordingly. He knew once you spotted a small crime going on, he’d let you get the first punch in since you were a bit competitive. While swinging, he figured out you liked to hang in the air for a moment longer before using your webs again ao he swung at a distance while you could do your flips and jumps. For the entire week, you had forgotten you were technically stranded here but that fact didn’t seem to bother you.

Along with that, Miguel worked on fixing your watch, creating a small wristband that would delay your glitching while he took the device. Eventually, he did fix it and turned it brand new again. You were incredibly grateful and he just smiled softly at you through his shaded glasses. You slipped it on and was prepared to head home when he stopped you and asked if you’d like to go on a final patrol with him. You fiddled with your watch, debating but you did feel a small part of you not wanting to leave him, strangely enough. So, you went.

It had been late by the time you came back to his penthouse, opting to crawl through the window of his bedroom. The night was hotter than expected, both of you leaning on the wall to catch your breaths after ripping off your masks.

“Made sure no one followed?” You asked with a heavy sigh. Miguel propped himself off the wall and leaned over to glance outside the window beside you, his hand placed next to your head and his hand subconsciously held your hip, making you freeze. He didn’t seem to notice even as you stared shamelessly up at him. Miguel’s eyes were focused and sharp, a stark contrast to the way he squinted under his sunglasses during the daytime. His arm by your head flexed as he moved to keep himself steady but the hand on your hip was warm and comforting that left your heart fluttering. Sure, he was handsome–but you couldn’t, right? Right?

Miguel’s eyes found yours again and for a moment was confused why you seemed so stiff. You looked up at him with beady and bashful eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He instinctively looked down at your lips and back to your eyes, his hand moving up to your waist. He hunched over you, caging you to the wall and making you feel the heat radiating off his body. You stared straight even as he closed in on you by your ear, your heart pounding in your chest and down to your abdomen.

“If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” He whispered by your ear, his thumbs by your waist caressed your hip bone, a subtle reminder of his sweetness underneath his rough exterior. Despite the short time spent together, he was sure you felt something for him after basically living with him. He was still at a distance but with your lack of reply, he took that as an answer and took a step back away from you.

Before he could, you grabbed onto his arms, keeping him in place and close to you. “No,” You said quickly. “No, don’t stop. Please.” You whispered, your heart hammering inside your chest.

Miguel came back to you, his arms securing himself around you, his own heartbeat increasing in speed. “Are you sure?” He asked softly.

You nodded. “Please.” You whispered again. Miguel took one arm off your waist to cup your cheek and tilt it up to face him. You felt heat crawl up to your cheeks meanwhile Miguel looked like he was about to take a bite of the forbidden fruit that was you. He was entranced and a little needy and eager to feel your lips on his again. Despite you being a different version of the one he knew–it was still you. Down to your hair, eyes and lips. Even the way your nose would scrunch in disgust and the way you walked and fiddled with your fingers. It was all still you. He wasn’t going to lose his chance.

So he kissed you.

He kissed you like a man starved, practically bending your back as he curled himself on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck to gain some stability while he pulled you close enough for you to go on your tiptoes. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss and his hand left your cheek to bend slightly to pick you up. You got the hint and wrapped your legs around him and Miguel pressed you up against the wall. His growing erection grinding slowly on your clothed heat, making the two of you moan.

Your fingers curled into his fiery hair just the way he liked and his hands grabbed at every piece of flesh he could squeeze in his palms. Miguel’s lips separated from yours, a string of saliva connecting the two of you until he brought his lips down to your neck. You leaned your head back on the wall while he worked his magic, licking and nipping at your flesh with care due to his fangs. You heard him moan, gripping you tighter as he tasted you and your breathing became heavier.

Miguel lifted you off the wall, hurrying towards his bedroom and plopping your body down on the plush, soft mattress. He took your thighs and separated them to see the wet patch seeping out your spider suit. You felt his talons gently probing your skin and his eyes met yours again as he paused.

You nodded once again and with new vigor, he took one clawed hand and slashed the bottom half of your suit apart along with your panties. You gasped.

“Miguel…!”

“I’ll get you ten shocking suits. Just let me have you.” He groaned and delved between your legs. He licked up a stripe and your breath hitched, your hands immediately finding his hair. Miguel felt himself strain in his own suit, bucking his hips pathetically against anything he could find while he ate you out. His tongue probed your entrance and his nose rubbed against your clit that made your arch your back and thrust yourself on his mouth. His fingers joined his mouth in pushing you to your limit, coaxing more moans and whimpers from your pouting lips.

You covered up your mouth with your hand, covering up your face in embarrassment. The sounds of Miguel slurping and licking up your essence made you so much more wet and weak. You squirm underneath his hands and Miguel growls, using his strength to keep your legs in place and apart while he indulges in the taste of you. His eyes are closed, salivating and devouring your juices with every lap of his tongue. His fingers spread your lips open, sliding one finger in and swirling his tongue in your pussy. You clench around his wet muscle and finger, feeling him smirk against you.

Miguel continues to ease his finger inside you, pumping it too slowly for your liking. You whined which made his cock twitch and you pleaded for more. Drunk on your sweetness, he complied and added a second finger, the stretch becoming evident. You arched your back off the bed and you felt Miguel's other hand caress your thigh comfortingly. His moans send vibrations to your clit and grind yourself desperately on him while squealing his name.

“Hmm–Fuck, Mi-ggy…” You whined, pressing your thighs around his head. You felt Miguel pause for a split second, the nickname you’ve given him had gone straight between his legs. He gained more confidence to please you, taking his fingers out to grab your breast and sucking on your clit. The sensation of him forcibly spreading you apart again and the combination of your nipple being tweaked pulled and his tongue made you feel shocks of electricity down your spine. You felt the pit of your abdomen growing with your upcoming climax and you started thrashing around as much as you could with Miguel holding you down.

“Miggy! Fuck–Don’t stop!” As if he would ever, now that he’s tasted your delectable pussy. He only continued the same pace that had you squirming and chasing you high. His fingers teasing your nipples after every swirl of his tongue and the bubble pops inside you.

You scream his name into the air and grip on the sheets beside you while screwing your eyes shut. You humped on his eager mouth, drinking in whatever you gave him with a satisfied hum. He pressed closer to make sure he could lap up as much as he could but still, drips of you slid down his chin and around his lips. You mewled when the high finished and you were left with a sensitive pussy that he still made sure to clean you up with his mouth.

With hazy eyes, you stared at him still between your legs, watching with a smirk as you collected yourself. Miguel swirled his tongue around his lips to clean himself off and even used his hands to scoop up the parts he couldn’t reach to lick it off spotlessly, not a single ounce of your cum going to waste. It made you burn in embarrassment but also gaining a weak pulse to your twitching pussy.

He kneeled over you, drinking in your naked body from the flyaways in your hair to the way your legs shook after just orgasming. His stare was intense and it made you want to hide yourself from just how long he’d been looking at you for. You didn’t know it, but Miguel felt a twinge of heartache in his chest. He missed you–the other you dearly– and it felt strange that in a way you’re still here but different. He felt afraid that this might’ve been on impulse. You look like her, sound like her, but yet you haven’t experienced things with him like her. The you in front of him was, in a way, a whole different woman.

“Miguel?” You gently pulled him out of his mind. Oh, how your eyes still send his heart racing when he looks at you. Your eyes held concern and worry in them. Was he regretting it? Should you stop? It was the opposite. One look at you and Miguel’s worries had faded.

It’s still you down to your core. The one he had truly fallen in love with. In every lifetime and in every universe, he was meant to be beside you. He leaned in to nuzzle against the softness of your neck and pressed a lingering kiss to your jaw. “Nothing,” He eased your worries. “You’re just simply gorgeous.” He murmured and you felt a blush crawl up your neck.

Miguel made his way down your neck to your chest where he continued to leave kisses in his wake. His head of red hair curled slightly from the sweat that had built up between the two of you and it tickled you on his way down. Your bashful state was cut short when he flicked your nipple with his tongue and it made you whimper. Your mind had gone up in the clouds once more when he began suckling on the bud, the nerves of it sending signals to your pussy, making you wet again.

Miguel took a moment to rid himself of his own suit and underwear, returning to please your tender breasts. His knee had gone in between your thighs to push one leg away and his hand delved down to rub your swollen clit. His fingers rubbed in small circles that made you melt and lean your head back while his mouth continued its attack on gently biting your now hardened nipples. Your hands ran through his hair which encouraged him further and you both moaned in unison.

Miguel pulled away from your tits, a small smirk on his lips as he saw the bitemark around your bud beginning to form. His hand left your sopping cunt and licked off the sweet nectar that was you with a hum of his voice. The sight left you shivering and he leaned back down to kiss you, making you taste yourself. You mewled as he forced his tongue inside to find yours in a heated dance. Your eyes rolled back and you pressed your chest up which made him groan when he felt your hard nipples graze his skin.

You felt a blunt poke at your entrance and Miguel pulled away just enough for his forehead to be above yours. He looked into your eyes, another check to see if this is what you wanted–what you both wanted. You nodded again, firmly this time, and he didn’t need another second.

Miguel pushed his fat cockhead between your lips to coat his length before entering it inside you. You winced and Miguel buried himself in your neck, his hand on your hip, caressing you and encouraging you to hold onto him. You wrapped your arms around him as he pushed further inside you, his size being nothing you’ve experienced. “I know, I know,” He shushed you, kissing your neck to distract you. “Such a pretty girl. You can take it, sweetheart.”

You whimpered at his praise, digging your nails in his back that left red crescents behind, a faint click sounding out that neither of you heard when you bumped your hand on his shoulder. “Miguel…” You moaned, spreading your legs further apart while he shook, sliding himself inside you.

Miguel moaned your name back, finally pushing himself to the hilt and his balls slapping your cunt with a wet smack from the combination of your weeping core and his spit. You wiggled your hips at the snug fit and tried to get used to his size but he stopped you, hissing and digging his nails in your flesh to anchor himself from cumming immediately. He kissed your cheeks to ease you while he gently pulled in and out in small strokes.

“More….harder…” You mewled, your walls finally used to his girth and clamping down on his throbbing cock to suck him in deeper. Miguel grabbed your hips and lifted it up with his inhumane strength and began moving, his cock glistening with your slick when he pulled out and hearing it squelch inside your wet cunt when he pushed back in. Your nails scratched at his chest and he grabbed one of your hands to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “You’re driving me crazy,” Miguel moaned. “This cunt’s just been waiting to be fucked, huh?” He huffed, slowly gaining speed. When you didn’t respond, he slammed into you and made you scream from his tip hitting your sweet spot. “Yes!” You sobbed, feeling his hands push your legs up to your chest and hammered himself in your pussy. You wrapped your arms around him while he pounded into you, hiding yourself in his neck. The bed creaked below you two, sheets shuffling from the force of Miguel ravaging your body. Miguel rested his arm above your head and held onto your thigh, making sure you were spread open while he adjusted his position to be more comfortable while pistoning his throbbing cock. He let out small grunts and moans, nipping at your neck and being careful with his fangs. With his dick hitting a different spot, you wrapped your legs around his waist to push him deeper. It seemed like even with him stretching your walls and splitting you apart, it was never enough–you wanted more. In the pit of your stomach, you knew you needed to have something more. His fucking was still mind-blowing, his talons gently poking your plush thighs and balls slapping rhythmically to the sounds of your whimpers and cries, which he adored. “So pretty, you sing so pretty for me,” He murmured, choking on his own pleasure as he felt you gushing around him just from the sheer ecstasy that coursed through your veins. “So tight and so warm—oh, god–” He groaned, picking up pace that had you squealing and clenching around him. “Lemme fill this pretty pussy, hm? Can I? Hm?” He moaned, trailing his wet lips down your chest to latch onto your nippled again, His tongue flicking the perky nub and pulling it between his teeth.

“Yes, yes, yes–God, yes–please!” You wailed, your hands scratching his shoulder blades and digging into his skin for purchase while you bucked in time with his thrusting. You eyes rolled back then closing them to focus on the way his cockhead was slamming into your sweet spot at just the pace you liked. You felt Miguel suck on your nipple, switching to the other side to give it equal amounts of attention. You shuttered and cried his name, finally feeling the dam break inside you. “Miguel!” Your vision going white and the euphoria of it washing over your body while you felt your pussy cum all over his length and squeezing him. Miguel let out a guttural groan deep from his throat when he felt you cum and clamp around him. Your cum slicked his cock and pelvis, and he then went faster to reach his own orgasm. You thrashed under him, feeling incredibly sensitive while he kept slapping against your pussy and pounding inside your walls. You moaned that you were just too sensitive, tears collecting at your eyes from overstimulation. He let go of your nipple and kissed you quickly to stop your whining. He lifted his head to watch you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto him tightly and whimpering. His eyes were bewitched with the scene of your tits bouncing, bite marks littered across the plump flesh. His eyes scanning down to see your slick making a mess between your legs after cumming, the way small strings connected to his person. But the sight of his massive cock sliding easily inside your pussy, your folds welcoming him by wrapping around him–he snapped from within and came hard. Miguel quickly grabbed the sheets so his talons could rip through them instead of you, his body curling as he let out a final groan and his cock spurted his seed in you. He continued to pump his load, feeling his cock soften and twitch out the rest of himself in strings of salty cum–a white ring forming on the base of his dick. He huffed, shaking as he made sure all of his cum stayed inside you. When he pulled out, a small white string connected from his tip to your pussy, slipping apart when he was far away enough. He watched the mess between your legs for a moment, breathing heavily as his seed oozed out of your folds and his heart began to beat a little bit faster.

Miguel carefully lifted himself off the bed to go to the bathroom and returned with a towel to clean between your legs. He carefully wiped your clean, being extra careful around your abused pussy. He watched you to make sure you weren’t in any discomfort, but you nearly fell asleep with how gentle he was. Miguel tossed the soiled towel into his hamper and slid back into bed with you. He brought you into his chest while he laid on his back, and he brought his covers up to your chin. You wrapped yourself around him and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand running up and down your arm soothingly.

For a while, neither of you spoke, a strange comforting silence in the air. That is, until Miguel broke it.

“Miggy?” He asked. You grunted, still half-asleep and barely conscious.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, thinking it was rude of you to call him something so casually. Miguel huffed and looked down at you, his other hand petting your hair back.

“No, no. I didn’t mind. It was cute,” He smiled even if you couldn’t see it. “Do you…think you could stay?” He asked hesitantly.

His question made you wake up, the tone had gone a little serious but you knew what he meant. “I can’t,” You whispered and you felt his chest deflate. You felt horrible but you knew better than to stay in a dimension that wasn’t yours. “But…maybe I could come back?” You offered.

Miguel stiffened and you heard his heart beating faster. “Really?” You nodded and snuggled against his chest.

“I can’t stay but it’s not against the rules to visit other dimensions.”

Miguel scoffed at the mention of rules but if he got to see you again then that’s all that matters. “Will you go in the morning?” He asked, hoping you’d say no.

“I think I’ll stay a while.” You murmured sleepily and Miguel grinned to himself, letting you sleep peacefully in his arms.

While you had fallen asleep in the comforting arms of your boss’ variant, you failed to notice the shutter of your watch clicking off from a call.

Miguel O’Hara, leader of the Spider Society and the one who had been looking for you all this time, was sitting alone in his office panting heavily. Sweat accumulated on his forehead and thighs, a hue of crimson across his cheeks as he let go of his softening cock. Splatters of his cum, drenched his hand and desk and he groaned realizing what he had done.

He hadn’t meant to spy on you and your intimacy with whoever you wanted. He wasn’t expecting to hear from you after losing you on a mission, much less moaning his name. At first, he was relieved that you were alive and was about to speak until you squealed his name so sweetly. Miguel froze, wondering if you somehow got home and didn’t tell him. Whatever you did on your time was yours, but you were calling out to him. Eventually he learned it wasn’t him, but a different version. He debated whether to click out or not but some sick and twisted emotion inside him reveled in the way you begged and writhed underneath his variant.

Miguel had phased his hardening cock out of his suit and began pumping it slowly in time with his variants thrusts. He focused solely on you rather than the man that looked nothing like him. Another sick thought in his head wished his variant looked more like him, so he could imagine himself fucking you properly. Miguel made sure he was muted as he grunted and cursed under his breath, muttering praises to you in Spanish he knew you couldn’t hear. He made sure to edge himself, wanting to cum when he heard you scream his name. He bursted a fat load onto himself and the desk as you cried out your orgasm, watching you throw your head back and clutch onto his variant while you shook violently around his cock.

He grit his teeth, jealousy brewing in his heart at how hard you came. He could do better.

Once his mind had cleared up, he blushed heavily, shame overcoming his previous desires and covered his face. Despite being alone, he felt someone watching–which was hypocritical given what he had done. Before he ended the call, he traced your coordinates to find where you had been stranded all this time. Tomorrow, he’d find you and get you back.

A/N: i'm a proud lover of all versions of miguel !!!!! please be patient for part 2 🙏

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 15

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 15

Word Count: 3499

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Do forgive me for the small chapter... *sigh*

|Masterlist| | |Chapter 14🔞| | |Chapter 16|

“Cariño, having fun?”

Shit.

“Sir?” You ask, feigning innocence.

“Don’t pretend, darling, it doesn’t suit you.” Doffy takes a step forward, towering over you in an intimidating manner. He has an unsettling grin on his lips and the usual glint in his red eyes. “You and my nephew? You can’t hide that pretty glow.” He purrs and you flush deeper. “Too bad that this time I didn’t get to hear any of your pretty noises…” 

Doflamingo keeps circling you as if you were prey. His eyes locked on your form, noticing any shiver, any tremble, any kind of movement that might give anything away. “Of course, we can remedy that, mi querida. Anytime you want.” He leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “You see, while my dear nephew might have advised you to keep quiet, pretending to be sneaky, I would prefer to hear you scream my name loud and clear so every guest knew what I was doing to you and how much you were enjoying it.”

You take a step back, your breath hitching in your throat as your hands clench into fists. “That’s utterly inappropriate, Sir.” Then you try to move forward to get away from his clutches, but he towers over you again. 

“That’s not what you want? Because I can figure out what it is.” Cocking his head to the side, he hums lightly, one finger pressed against his lips as if he’s in deep thought. “Is it power, then? Because I can make sure you’re in all the right circles, rubbing shoulders with anyone who matters.” 

You stiffen at the implication. He’s trying to fish for information again. You just have to keep steady, there’s nothing to hide. Nothing except the agonising rhythm of your heart, your anxiety clawing its way up your throat, scratching it and making it hard to speak. 

“No? Influence, then? I know all the right people. You’d never have to feel unnoticed again.” Raising your chin, you meet his gaze with defiance, showing more bravado than you actually possess. “Money? It has to be money. I can offer you a lifestyle beyond your wildest imagination: beach houses, penthouses, luxury cars, designer clothes… all yours.”

“I don’t want any of that, Doflamingo, Sir.” Your voice shakes a little and you curse under your breath. Doffy caught you at a vulnerable state and you’re still too addled for this to be a fair battle of wits. 

“So it’s just the thrill of it?” Doffy starts to circle you again, one of his fingers running along a strand of hair, and you hold your breath. “You are so hard to read, princesa, so, so hard. When I think I have you figured out, you sweep the rug from under me.” He tuts and stops, chin resting on his knuckles, a pensive expression on his face as he looks at you.

“Then there’s Vinsmoke Ichiji. I mean,” he scoffs, “I get why you left him, he’s an asshole. What I don’t get is why you were with him for four years. It just doesn’t add up. What did he give you? What did you gain from that relationship?”

Heartache? Trauma? Pain?

“And what do you want from Law?” Doflamingo almost growls, the smirk now gone, replaced by a frown as he leans down, his face mere inches from yours. “Because I know you weren’t together before this weekend. You weren’t dating.” He raises his hand to stop the words that are about to leave your lips - a weak denial, actually - and he continues. “Don’t deny it, princesa, once again, it doesn’t suit you. I investigated this, whatever you two have, and it happened this weekend. But I want to know why. What do you want from Law?”

You decide not to answer him. Your heart seems ready to jump out of your chest at a moment’s notice, and you’re more flustered now than you were after your little escapade with Law. 

“It’s okay, I’ll figure you out, one way or another. You won’t get what you want. I will find out just what makes you tick, and then you’ll fold. They all do.” Doffy’s words are menacing and ominous, sending a cold shiver down your spine. 

“I’m not hiding anything. I am who I am, and Law and I are together because we care about each other. I am not a puzzle waiting to be solved.” The words leave your lips through clenched teeth. Hard-edged, shaky and defiant, leaving you breathless with the effort of keeping steady. 

“Oh, cariño, but you are.” He caresses your cheek, making you hiss and step back. “I will solve you. Don’t worry.” His laugh follows him down the corridor until he disappears around the corner, a hand in the air waving goodbye as you try to catch your breath and calm your unsteady heart. 

-*-

You run into Law as you decide to go to the bathroom instead of heading towards the reception area. You’re so deep in your own head that you nearly stumble into him.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's going on?”

With a frustrated grunt, you tell him about your encounter with his uncle. “So now we know he knows, plus Ichiji is here, and I’m feeling more and more trapped, Law.” You sigh. “It’s like Doffy won’t relent until he breaks us apart.” Your trembling hands clutch the lapels of Law’s jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Law never wavers. His cool, controlled persona manages to calm your irrational fears and delusions as he brings you closer to him. Amber eyes piercing straight into your soul, keeping you tethered as your lack of control sends you spiralling further away from reality. 

“Sweetheart, you won’t lose me.” Law kisses your temple softly. “So what if Doffy knows we weren’t together before? Let him believe what he wants, we’re together now, and we’re leaving tomorrow. Nothing he says or does will keep us apart. Okay?”

You nod, and Law sighs, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. “I should’ve never brought you here. I’m sorry. I knew my uncle was… extra, and I still subjected you to this.”

“Don’t say that.” Your whisper almost gets lost in the confines of his vest, where you have your head buried. “If you hadn’t asked me to do this, ‘we’ might not have happened.”

Law’s chuckle is quite cocksure. “Trust me, sweetheart, ‘we’ would’ve happened. One way or another.” You blush as a smile finally creeps its way onto your lips. The warmth in your chest expanding and taking hold of you. He seems so certain of the possibility of you two as a couple, like nothing could ever stand in your way. It's heartwarming.

It would be so easy… just open your lips and say it: I love you. It’s not that hard. You’re not ripping out a piece of your soul, even if the last person you uttered those words to completely destroyed you. 

Law is special.

Just say it.

Say it.

Law cups your cheek and tilts your head so you can face him. “Let’s go back? Get this wedding over and done with so we can finally go home?” You nod, teetering between the lines of the bitter and the sweet. Your words seem trapped, lodged in your throat, held ransom by deep-seated trauma. And yet, you know that you’ve never loved like you love Law. And you know it’s a feeling that will only continue to expand and grow. 

But the words remain imprisoned.

-*-

The cake has been cut, the bouquet tossed and the remainder of the night seems to have cooled off all of Doffy’s and Ichiji’s attempts to disrupt your newfound peace. Just another hour or two before you and Law can retire to your room, and then this whole nightmare will be over. 

So the dream can finally begin. 

It might be silly, since you’re still at the beginning of the relationship, but perhaps because of the romantic vibe of the wedding, you can’t help but think about what your next steps will be. You’ll date, obviously, because you never properly did that; you’ll spend a lot of time together; and then… maybe you can think about living together. Give ‘domestic’ another chance. 

You and Law at at the table, resting your feet after standing in heels all day and he’s in the middle of promising you a very long massage once you’re back in your room. His lips hover over your ear as his fingers trace your thigh with a feather-light touch.

“I’m very good with anatomy, you know. I’m a doctor.” He teases, and you giggle, your eyes fixed on his. “I’ll start with your feet - I’m familiar with a lot of acupuncture pressure points, and some of them might bring you interesting sensations - then I’ll climb to your calves, knees…” His fingers trail up your thigh, his gaze mischievous. “Thigh… inner thigh…”

“And…?” You ask, breathless.

Law kisses your face, then your jawline as you turn, letting him catch your lips in a tender kiss. “And I can’t disclose the rest of my plan. I’ll keep it a surprise. I want to hear every little startled gasp that leaves your lips.”

A small chuckle makes your chest tremble. “You tease.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Baby 5 and Sai approaching. They’ve been making rounds to all tables, thanking guests for coming and bestowing little gifts to them as a thank you. Law notices her approaching too, and he leans back slightly, his hand leaving your thigh and with it an empty feeling. 

“Soon, sweetheart.”

“Dear cousin!” Baby 5 smiles as Sai holds out a wicker basket of small gifts. “Oh, honey, there aren’t any more of those little whiskey bottles. Could you grab more?” She bats her lashes, and Sai complies, leaving her to engage in small talk with you and Law while he retrieves the gift. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

She actually seems like she’s glowing from all the happiness. You nod excitedly while Law teases her, saying he’s attended better weddings. They banter a little, and you find yourself relaxing some more, hoping the night continues without any more hiccups. 

Except, as usual, things don’t go according to plan.

“Oh, I had no idea your girlfriend knew Sai’s groomsman, Ichiji! It all turned out perfectly after all, right?” She says your name and smiles. A pinch of dread twists in your stomach as she turns to the side and waves someone over. It’s Ichiji. 

You and Law immediately straighten up in your seats, your relaxed state long forgotten. His arm settles on the back of your chair protectively. 

“Ichiji, hi! I was just commenting on how remarkable it is that you two already knew each other. Doesn’t it make things easier?” Ichiji’s smirk reveals his canines, almost as if he’s a predator locking onto his prey, his intense gaze never leaving you. 

“Indeed. So remarkable. You know, Baby 5, we go waaaay back.” Ichiji’s stance speaks of provocation, and Law straightens further, his arm brushing your shoulders as you clutch your drink tighter, your jaw locking and legs bouncing restlessly. “Don’t we, Doll?”

Your breath hitches, and you don’t look back at him, but Baby 5 doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort. 

“Oh, how fun! You two must have some great stories to share, no? How’d you two meet?” Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you just will this moment to come to an end. Perhaps if you pray hard enough, Sai will come back with the gifts, and the bride and groom can go on their merry way.  

Even without looking, you can feel Ichiji’s smugness as he slowly sips his drink. “We met in college. Those days were wild… the stories we could tell…”

“I don’t think anybody wants to listen to that, Vinsmoke.” Law’s voice cuts as sharp as a knife, though he has perfect control over its tone. 

“Oh, come on, Trafalgar. I’m sure she didn’t share everything. Isn’t there anything you want to know about her wild days in college?” Memories come rushing back, and most of them are painful and demeaning. It seems that, even if there were some good moments at the start of your relationship with Ichiji, they were all drowned when he tainted everything with his manipulation and cruelty. 

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps, and Law’s hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blade. “She told me all I need to know. Even if she didn’t, there’s nothing you can say that will interest me.” Law’s words are delivered with more calm and ice than you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s also an undercurrent of danger pulsating beneath. His protective instincts are kicking in, and you can sense him itching to act on it.

Baby 5 keeps smiling, though it seems a little strained now that she senses some sort of tension between the three of you. “Wait… I don’t understand. Were you two…?” She trails off, her eyes darting from Ichiji’s smug look to Law’s protective stance, then to your cowering form. Her brows raise in slow realisation and Ichiji interjects.

“Yes. We were in love, once. Engaged to be married, even. Small world, indeed, isn’t that right, Doll?”

You squirm in your seat, and Baby 5’s expression shifts to horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze keeps darting between Law and yours. “I didn’t know! I never meant to make things awkward!” She laces her arm through Ichiji’s trying to drag him away from the scene, but he doesn’t budge. 

“What do you mean, awkward? Not at all! We were just planning our future together, laying the foundations for our dream life. We were even discussing kids, right?” You can’t help it, your gaze falls back on his as all the colour drains from your face. How dare he?

You can barely breathe. The air is stifling, the heat overwhelming and the memories don’t stop. The word ‘Doll’ resounds in your head over and over as do his lies and manipulations. The clenching of your chest at how he made you feel, the powerlessness you had and all the power he held over you.

It’s too much.

All colours start to blur together, the room spins as you try to catch your breath, anxiety kicking in. In a second Law is up on his feet, pulling you up by the hand and supporting your weight against him.

He pins Ichiji in his cold gaze and practically snarls, his control slipping. “I warned you to stay the fuck away, Vinsmoke.” 

Baby 5 looks mortified, she keeps trying to pull Ichiji but Law is already ushering you away from the table since you seem unable to do much more than stand. “Ichiji, let’s go, please. I didn’t know! I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on, Baby 5. Don’t worry, we were just reminiscing about the good times. No harm, no foul, right, Doll? I mean… she was mine first.” Your chest keeps tightening as the room becomes smaller, constricting, suffocating. Bringing your hand to your neck you try to claw for air.

Before leaving, Law’s towering frame seems to engulf Ichiji’s. In his gaze there’s an unspoken warning as he delivers his words with a calmness you would never be able to achieve. “You’re done here, Vinsmoke, but I am not done with you yet.”

The warning lingers in the air as Law steadies you, his hand on your waist, and leads you away from the table, away from Baby 5, away from Ichiji, and away from all the painful memories. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Focus on me.”

But you can’t. The room is spinning out of control, and Ichiji’s manic laugh is all you can seem to focus on. His words, his empty promises, his threats, and fake concern. It’s a whirlwind of dizzying thoughts, and you don’t know how to get out.

You can feel yourself fighting for air, gasping because nothing seems to fill up your lungs. And suddenly you’re swaying in Law’s arms. He’s taken you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as his arms ground you.

“You’re safe. I’m here. He’s gone.” His hand presses against the back of your head, pulling you to his chest so you can follow the beat of his own heart and try to steady your own. Slowly, you start to hear the soft music over Ichiji’s laughter. Law’s voice pulls you out, keeping you centred. “He’ll never touch you again. You were never his.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly feel yourself gaining ground. Your lungs are functioning again, and your heart beat is steadying. There’s nothing you can do to stop the tremble in your hands, though, so you just clutch Law’s jacket as tightly as you can, burying your face in him and inhaling his soothing scent, again and again. 

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

You’re such a mess. You’ve already lost count of how many times Law has had to bring you down from your panic. It’s a full-time job for him now, and you feel the need to say you’re sorry. Would he still want you if he knew how badly damaged you were? You might be in too deep now, but there’s always time for him to regret his decision.

You sniffle, and a whimper leaves your lips. Law keeps swaying you. 

“How about a little distraction, hm?” Ever the attentive man, Law senses that words alone won’t stabilise you. “Let’s play a game, sweetheart, okay?” He tilts your chin so you’ll have to focus on his eyes. 

“Game?” How foreign your voice sounds. Shaky, weak, trembling and fragile. 

“Yeah.” He smiles gently, placing a small peck on your nose, trying to coax a smile from your lips. You try to focus, the bad memories slowly slipping away. “I bet I can make you smile before the song ends.”

It’s such a silly notion that it manages to shake you back to your senses, though the trembling still hasn’t subsided. “Make me smile?”

“Sure. If I manage to make you smile three times before we end our dance, I win.”

Your brows furrow in concentration. “And what happens if you win?”

“Bragging rights.” You twitch the corner of your lip but it’s not quite a smile, so he continues. “Fine. You’ll have to admit that you like me way more than you let on.”

Yeah, you do. So much more.

The first smile fully curves your lips upwards as you let out a breathy laugh, and Law’s posture loses some of its stiffness. “That’s one.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Some of the tension begins to dissipate, and the weight pressing on your chest feels lighter. Your fingers are no longer clutching Law’s jacket for dear life. “Fair enough. What if I win?”

“Hmmm…” Law looks up, seemingly thinking of something to make you laugh again. Then a mischievous smirk fills his lips, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I’ll let you be on top.”

Your breath hitches, and even when you try to fight it, a laugh escapes your lips as a flush fills your cheeks. 

“Two.” Law pulls you closer, the intensity in his gaze returning. He sways you some more before kissing the top of your head and voicing his thoughts, “I’m not going to let him near you again, sweetheart. I’m sorry he ever did.”

You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach finally start to unravel. Law’s soothing words manage, once again, to ground you and to make you feel appreciated. The burning in your eyes and the tears that threatened to spill recede, and you feel more at ease. 

“I trust you, Law.”

Law smiles, and the music begins to fade in the background. “One more?” He playfully asks, and as you’re about to retort that he’s out of time, he dips you, suddenly and too low. A squeak leaves your lips at the surprise, followed by a heartfelt laugh. When you look into his eyes, he’s grinning. “Three.”

“You’re ridiculous, Law.” You chuckle as he pulls you upright. He looks utterly pleased with himself, smug and cocky. 

“Maybe, but I won.” The song has ended, but you’re still wrapped up in his arms. 

“You did.” A sigh leaves your lips. “Thank you.”

“So you’re feeling better?” His thumb caresses your cheek, his lips inches from yours. You hum in agreement to his question. “Good. My reward?”

You flush deeply, lost in the amber of his eyes. Your stomach twists and coils, and your heart thrums faster than ever. But it’s not an overwhelming, disturbing feeling. It’s freeing, uplifting, and so damn satisfying.

“I love you, Law.” The words seem weightless, a whisper that carries all of your emotion. Law receives them with a soft smile, his eyes shining brightly as he leans even closer, breaths mingling, making your lips tingle, anticipating his kiss. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Tag List:@rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @rainbow2312 @alexturnersgirl

|Chapter 16|

[night-raven-tattler]

What's your ideal type?

Summary: What would be the best traits for their potential partner to have?

Characters: Pomefiore dorm (Vil, Epel, Rook) xGN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings: none

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Vil's ideal type would be...

Someone who appreciates fashion. Vil is a person with very refined, particular taste. It's important for you to also appreciate his tastes, even if you don't know much about them, in order to stay by his side.

Someone who is open to criticism. Being on a personal mission to make himself and the world around him the best it can be, Vil works tirelessly to improve. And that energy extends to the people around him. If you are willing to pay attention to his wisdom and opinions, you are a person Vil can appreciate.

Someone who is proud to be his partner. The Queen of Pomefiore, Mr Schoenheit herself, deserved to be venerated... but Vil is not looking for someone to kiss the dirt he walks on. He knows his worth, but he just wants someone to be proud of being with him for being who he is, from his public persona to the little nerd who reads the latest potion studies.

Someone who can deal with his overwhelming life. Vil has high standards that are hard to meet, and combined with his hectic schedule and his diminished privacy, Vil knows he would have a very hard time to find someone strong enough to date him. But if you at least try to meet him in the middle and try to find a comfortable place for the both of you, he would surely reciprocate in kind.

『••✎••』

Epel's ideal type would be...

Someone he can be himself with. It's a known fact Epel has a hard time picking what parts of his genuine personality he can show to the world while following Vil's guidance, and the mask often slips. From slipping into his accent to scratching his hands while climbing trees, Epel would feel more comfortable if the mask fell with someone that likes to see those parts of him, too.

Someone who likes apples. Would you be surprised to know that the Harveston boy who pretty much breathes apples every day would think disliking apples is a deal breaker? You need to at least tolerate them. If you happen to have an apple allergy, you're on thin ice.

Someone he can be strong for. Epel has a very specific idea of what being a strong man means. While some of that image is not rooted in the best beliefs, Epel still thinks that partners are supposed to protect each other. If you're the only one being strong for him and treating him like a damsel in distress, it's gonna give his ego a huge hit.

Someone who waits for him to make the first move. An idea also rooted in what he thinks a strong man should be, Epel wants to prove his resolve in building a partnership by making the first move. It would take some time for him to do so, since he would need to deal with his whole "sappy romance is for losers" mentality first. But he'll appreciate you if you wait for him.

『••✎••』

Rook's ideal type would be...

Someone with a curious nature. Rook is in love with the whole known and unknown world, and wants to discover all of the world's beauties. And sometimes a hunter needs a right hand, following him closely and being part of the process. If you can be that for him, you'd get to see him at his most gleeful.

Someone who is open minded. A lover of beauty in all of its forms would need someone just as appreciative by his side. Even if you don't carry the same love he does, you can at least appreciate the things he does: trying to see the appeal of things he finds appealing would make his heart soar. After all, you're just trying to see a glimpse of the world through his eyes, non?

Someone who gives back the energy he gives to them. Rook's easily excitable nature can be off putting to some, and downright annoying to others. While he can deal with it, it can get exhausting. If you can respond to him with the same energy and try to meet him halfway, it would make his heart skip a beat.

Someone who can reign in his impulsive nature. Let's be honest, Rook is not known for his absolute patience. While he can monitor his targets until he gets what he wants, Rook can also jump into danger even if he is aware of the consequences. He needs you to grab his shoulder and look for alternatives, even if he would want you two to jump in together.

『••✎••』

[kenyummy]

Hi! I was going through your profile to read more of Spidey! Reader and I saw the ask of songs going for each character, and your comment about Reed and Spidey! Reader being parallels of Bruce and DC! Reader??

HELLO?? THATS SO COOL!!! I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR MORE IF YOU HAVE ANY OTHER IDEAS

IF NOT ITS OKAY I WAS JUST CURIOUS!! HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT

HII IM SO HAPPY YOU ASKED ABOUT THIS ARGHHHH i have so much to say

ok so yes! reed and spidey r gonna parallel bruce and spidey (or more accurately bruce and dc!reader) very hard as in that's what he could've had, ykwim???

in chapter 5, reed acknowledges spidey's intellect and treats them as if they're equals. spidey appreciates this immensely, feeling good that the literal smartest man in the world sees them as such. this is their dynamic. reed sees spidey as an equal, yet as somebody who needs to be nurtured. you're a genius, creating most of your web shooters and technology from scratch, yet needing help on some of the technicalities, which he's happy to provide.

spidey comes to reed when they need help. spidey isn't afraid that he'll make them look dumb. that he'll believe its a waste of time because he cares. he genuinely cares about spidey, maybe even past that of a mentor, and wants to see them succeed so bad because he knows just how incredibly brilliant you are, and he's so, so proud.

from the first moment you'd met him, still an awkward kid getting the hang of your new powers, with braces and that hormonal teen acne, begging to be let on his team because otherwise, j. jonah jameson would actually eat you alive.

bypassing the highest level of baxter building security protocols with ease and using some kind of inorganic webbing that was unlike anything hed ever seen. ever since that day, reed knew you were absolutely incredible, and wishes you'd see yourself as such.

(basically, your science dad lol)

now, here comes the parallel with dc!reader. bruce was the complete opposite of reed. he'd never had the time to see dc!reader. always busy. with this new robin, this new criminal, this new "addition to the family", bruce never gave you the time of day because he just couldn't.

he'd never noticed the things you made, the grades you topped, the things you tinkered with. he'd never seen it and probably never would've if you'd never been shot. he never saw how smart you were, and it made you feel inadequate. like no matter how many things you did, how many gadgets you made or how incredible your inventions really were; you were invisible.

you'd never come to him for help. you used to try, all that time ago, but he'd say he was too busy. always too busy. never free enough to look your way, let alone help you calculate the density needed for web shooters.

(in the end, you'd never be able to make those webs. ...not in that universe, anyway).

but eventually, he sees it. he sees you (you as in spidey haha). when you pull away, he feels the tug and soon you're too far to catch up.

maybe it's when you reveal that you're spidey. maybe it's when you babysit franklin and reed comes to pick him up. maybe he sees you and reed and sue all walking together through a night-time science convention when he's on patrol.

it doesn't matter when, he just sees it, and his heart sinks. you would wrap your arms around your science dad™ after he'd help you with one thing or another, unaware of the lingering eyes following your every move.

... just how much had he missed, he wonders. he'd never seen you hug somebody that tightly since you were a little kid. ... but you're not anymore, are you? right. he'd... he'd almost forgotten.

he never wanted you in the vigilante life. never wanted you in danger. but it consumed his life. every waking moment. always busy, too busy, always too busy for you. but now, he sees you; latching onto this older man (perhaps a similar age to him, maybe younger) and grinning up at him like you'd done it a hundred times before.

... you'd never hugged him, had you?

especially these days. your eyes are colder than ever, touch even more so. you slinked around the manor like you wanted nobody to find you and you'd escape conversations as soon as you possibly could when somebody tried to speak with you. (that part hurt dick the most).

you're so different than he remembers. (though, how could he say that? the last thing he remembers is when his boy, his jason was still young too. the last few memories he wanted to block out forever. too bad that included you, too).

god forbid you accidentally call reed dad one day, then he'd be really pissed off. especially because you stopped calling him dad (or any variant of it) for some reason. really, it was because you'd switched places with his actual kid, and you never ended up seeing him as a father, so it came unconsciously. though, he didn't know this. for all he knew, you just... given up on his one day, for that man.

who seemed... all too glad to give you the acknowledgement you wanted.

all in all, you and reed represent a very important concept that the fantastic four are literally in this story to represent. what could've been. it stirs longing, guilt, and especially in this story, a kind of obsession of "making it all better".

you once looked up to bruce, your father, so dearly, preening when he gave you a sliver of his attention. doesn't every child? you'd go back to this one day, he's sure. this time, though, he'll spend as much time with you as you want. you can go to science conventions with him, as much as he has little interest in that type of thing.

he can help you now that he sees you, so just forget that man, okay? he'll always be your dad.

tysm for the ask my love im gen so happy i got to talk about this teehee

[jimmyscanongf]

Imagine celebrating Jimmy’s birthday for the first time! He’s probably not a big birthday person because all his childhood birthdays have been awful (except the ones he celebrated with Curly’s family), so he’s not expecting much when you two get together. But then he gets a knock at his door at 12 am on the dot and he goes to yell at whoever the fuck is at his door and he sees you with pizza and a homemade cake. He still yells at you for waking him up (“This couldn’t have happened in the morning??”) but he does have the pizza and cake with you (and he may or may not tear up when he takes a bite of the cake but you pretend not to notice)

Mouthwashing Jimmy x GN!Reader fluff

Jimmy is in that state of complete and utter relaxation in his bed, closer to sleep than not, when the knock comes at his front door. Ripped so unceremoniously from his sweet hypnagogia, he is washed over with irritation, but remains lying with his eyes closed, cursing silently, hoping the interloper will get the hint, maybe check the time and fuck off -

No dice. After a minute, right as his body begins to relax once more, the knock comes again, somewhat more insistent this time. Jimmy's anger swells as he whips the sheets off him, storming out of bed and cursing out loud this time as he stomps barefooted to the door. He doesn't bother with the peephole, it's been scratched to shit on the outside long before he even moved in, so he turns the deadbolt, and with his hand on the doorknob the knock sounds again. "Jesus fuck, I'm here," he seethes, and yanks the door open with the most withering expression he can muster on his face. "What-"

"Happy Birthday, Jimmy!!"

It's you. Standing there, in a glittering cone shaped party hat, face gleaming with toothy ecstatic joy, a burst of vibrant colour against the muted and musty background of his apartment building hallway. A low expression of annoyance escapes his throat as he turns his face to the ceiling, praying to a deity he knew wasn't there for strength...

"Seriously...? I was fucking sleeping, this couldn't have possibly waited until the morning?" He blurts out angrily, but shame and regret tears through his chest when he watches your expression fall, your shoulders slump just that slight angle - he knows you're trying not to look as crestfallen as you feel. In your hands you clutch a pizza box with a round white grocery store cake in its clear plastic dome balanced on top. The icing echoes your words: "Happy Birthday Jimmy!" it reads in cursive, with little multicoloured heart shaped icing balloons and party streamer curlicues represented on the top.

He runs his hand over his weary face and pinches the bridge of his nose while he turns his head to the side, right as you begin to apologize in that small voice: "Oh, I'm sorry, Jim, I was just so excited... I figured you're usually up for at least another hour anyways and we've never-"

He sighs and wordlessly steps aside as he swings the door open, gesturing for you to enter the dark apartment. His face is turned to the floor, he's almost afraid to look at you, but still manages to meet your eyes, gazing up at you through his eyelashes beneath pinched eyebrows. And your expression softens again as you tentatively cross the threshold, a small smile, warm eyes. It hurts. It hurts because he's always waiting for the time when your eyes remain hard, brimming with pain. No matter how he fucks up, you always step willingly into his life. If only you would just turn your back on him, then at least he would know what the fuck to do.

But no. He's still following you blind, through life, into his apartment, into this impromptu birthday celebration, not knowing the boundaries until he inevitably crosses them. Your grace makes him all the more comfortable, just as it makes him want to bolt. He remains suspended exactly where he is, on a tightrope, in the air.

He flicks the lightswitch on as he closes and locks the door behind him, and meets you at his kitchen table where you've laid out the pizza box and the cake side by side.

"I wish I had gotten you a gift but... It was literally yesterday afternoon when Curly messaged me, 'so it's Jimmy's birthday tomorrow, what do you have planned?' and I was like, 'it's fucking Jimmy's birthday?! Tomorrow?!'" You turn to him, mirroring the incredulosity in your voice and expression that you must've had yesterday as you put your bag down on the floor - the bag you bring when you spend the night.

For a moment he doesn't respond, just looks at you as he feels the remorse creep uncomfortably up his throat. "I'm sorry," the apology comes out of his mouth, sticky like vomit. "For shouting at you." That's all he has in him.

You look up at him, a pinched smile on your lips. "Don't worry 'bout it. I woke you up, I would be pissed off too," you concede, reaching up to rest your hand on his arm. Then realization brightens your face: "Oh! I almost forgot!" You grin and reach up to the party hat on your head, moving to take it off but - there were two stacked atop each other, you lift the top one and release the elastic band from under your chin, and before Jimmy can even think, you sweep your arm out and place it on his head, snapping the elastic underneath his chin.

"OW! Fuck," he exclaims as his skin begins to sting, you cringe before him and hiss an apology through your teeth. He rubs at the tender line along his jaw, swallows down the barrage of curses that want to leave his lips. "At least these are more eye catching than the ones they provide on the Tulpar," he mutters, "been the same ones for years, we have to put them back when the party ends. I don't even wanna know how many years of strangers' hair grease is absorbed into those things."

"Your job only gets more glamorous the more you talk about it," you intone with irony as he scoffs, giving you a humourous side eye as he turns to lift the lid of the pizza box.

He feels a rush of simple pleasure, the greasy and savoury smell curling through the air, as he lays eyes on the pizza, laden with all his favourite toppings. "Wow," he drawls, "You remember." He pulls the chair out and takes a slice, drawing long strings of melted cheese out as he tilts his head to the sky, dropping the trails into his open mouth before he bites the tip of the slice.

"You order the same thing every time." You seat yourself beside him and take your own slice.

You eat in relative silence. Occasionally you share small talk, a tidbit from your day. Otherwise it's quiet. Jimmy likes that about being with you. Not having to be "on" all the time, not having to perform the constant babbling meaningless niceties that his every other failed relationship expected of him.

"...You know, I do wish you would open up more sometimes, Jim. I mean, when I think about it, it's kind of crazy that we've been together this long and I didn't even know when your birthday was until the day before. Had Curly not said anything to me, it would have just passed by."

He doesn't meet your eyes, just stares silently into the half eaten pizza, thinking, eyebrows drawn together.

"I'd have loved to do something a bit more special. I just kind of panicked, I was so short on time."

Jimmy feels so extraordinarily vulnerable as your words wrap around him. "Yeah, well, you've heard my sob story," he says, strained. "Doesn't take much to realize my birthday's always sucked." He gathers the strength to look you in the face, give you a smirk. "It's better not to expect anything, you know? Makes it easier for everyone."

It doesn't have the effect on you that he'd imagined. A look of poignant sadness crosses your eyes as you search him. It almost irks him, the last thing he wants is your fucking pity. He feels uncomfortable, pinned under your gaze.

"It doesn't have to suck anymore, you know? I want to help make it... not suck," you say simply, and he turns his eyes down to the table again. It was an option he had never considered. It had been nearly thirty years since he'd given up hope of having a nice birthday. He'd long since driven Curly away from celebrating, because he was never able to feel particularly celebratory, saddled with all the terrible memories, year after year after year of disappointment. Today was a sore day for him. But you have this strange tendency to make everything better. Maybe he could let you try.

"...I guess we can start by eating this cake," he yields. He turns his head when he hears you eject yourself from your seat, sees your beaming grin right before you wrap your arm around his shoulder and press a big kiss to his temple.

"Yes! I'll go get plates and forks. And a knife!" He watches you bounce around his kitchen from cupboard to drawer, before you return with the aforementioned supplies. You hold the knife out to him, gripping it by the blade between your fingers and thumb.

"You're the birthday boy, it's your cake. You gotta cut it," you state matter-of-factly. He snorts, drawing his lips together as he takes the knife, pushing the pizza box out of the way while he drags the cake container right in front of him. He takes the top off, it's deafening plastic ripping noise sounding out in the night as you take your seat next to him, putting his plate and fork next to the cake.

"Should I sing for you, Jimmy?" You tease with a smile.

"God, no. Please," he insists. "This... this is more than enough." He looks from the cake, to the pizza, to your fingers curled around the edge of the table, drumming expectantly. He lines up the knife and sinks it into the cake, cutting one slice, putting it on his plate. Cutting another, that he placed on yours. He watches you lift your plate gleefully and dig in.

He turns down to his own plate, takes a forkful and eats it, savouring the sweet and airy standard vanilla grocery store cake. 'It's good', he thinks, 'guess that's why they still manage to sell these things.'

Last time he got a "cake" from his own family, he had turned nine. It was a little cupcake, fresh out of the plastic wrapper, with a single candle unceremoniously stuck in at a lopsided angle. They'd stopped singing Happy Birthday for him a few years earlier. He blew out the candle and ate it down in three bites. Went to the kitchen to find that the other 5 that came in the box were already long eaten. Next year his dad figured since he hit double digits, he was old enough to not need a cake anymore.

He stares at the cake, its' white icing, the red heart shaped balloon piped onto the top (was it a design they offered or did you request them specifically for him?), the custard between its layers, the sliced off words, Happ Bi J, all of it swimming and wavering in his wet eyes. Was it as stupid as it felt to be so emotional over a grocery store cake?

It's been a long, long while since he'd let tears fall, and he certainly wasn't going to now. Still, he sniffles, thick and wet, and the sound is so obvious, he turns his head towards you and catches you just as you look away, nonchalantly slicing through the cake with your fork and eating the bite.

He puts his plate down on the table. "Hey," he says, quietly grabbing your attention. You look at him and hum in question, so very pointedly casual, even though he knows you know, and certainly you can see his gleaming blubbering eyes if you didn't.

'...Fuck it,' he thinks, and leans over to take you in a hug, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you close as he hides his face in your shoulder. He inhales, a shaky breath, no, he's still not going to cry, but he is going to bask in the warmth of your love as he rides through it.

"Thanks," he chokes out in an almost silent whisper against your shirt. "...I love you, y'know?"

Your arms move to embrace him, pulling him tight to you as your hand goes up to smooth and stroke his hair, to press his face into your shoulder as you lean your head into his, enclosing him in your warmth, your smell. He grasps at the fabric of your shirt as you turn to press a kiss to the crown of his head, to nuzzle into his hair as you caress his shoulder and back and the back of his head, the nape of his neck, and whisper softly in return: "I love you too, Jim."