#I mean I was never going to go on them myself (it’s far too late for me) but this is just awful

[f1-stuff]

You mentioned omegaverse in the surreal DC reblog where he’s commenting far too much on Charles’s smell lol and it made me wonder if you’ve ever considered writing omegaverse Charlos? Do you have any interest or not so much your thing?

Love your work <33333

Hello! ❤️ I didn't used to be into omegaverse very much tbh, but something clicked in the last couple years and I started to vibe with it a lot more. I actually did start to write an abo charlos fic, that's also a Victorian-era royalty arranged marriage situation (woo that's a mouthful 😂), but I haven't added much to it in a while...

The funny thing is that I find myself forgetting it's abo while writing bc there's so much else going on, and then I have to throw in a line about someone's scent asghfjlslsdk. But anyway, I'm gonna share a little more of it now just because I feel like it's been a while since I posted a fic or a snippet...

“Charles.”

Impatience has crept into his mother’s voice by the second utterance of his name, and yet Charles still takes the time to finish the page he’s reading before clapping the (dreadfully boring) book shut and looking up at her expectantly. As usual, she doesn’t look particularly amused by his stubbornness.

“Charles, I was thinking that perhaps you and I should stay away from the palace for an additional month or so.”

“What?” he frowns. “Why?”

“To rest,” she suggests. “It’s been a very tough week, and you still don’t look well-”

“Maman,” he sighs, rubbing his temple where a headache is starting to form. Of course, he won’t tell her that. “I feel fine. And I’m ready to go home. We already missed Uncle’s birthday. We are not missing Papa’s.”

His mother doesn’t reply. It’s not the first time she’s brought it up, and it won’t be the last, but Charles isn’t losing this particular argument. Not even if he has to escape back to the palace himself. A week away from his father in his poor condition is already too much to bear, let alone the prospect of more time apart.

Charles and his mother’s retreat to their country residence had been unavoidable. The ‘very tough week’ in question is Charles’ heat, which had been brought on early due to the stress he's been under, caused by his numerous advisors' renewed efforts as of late to convince him to sign the regency order. No doubt they’ll be hoping that now, weakened by five days of fever and delirium, he’ll feel further compelled to relinquish his power to a regent in the event of his father’s death before he’s come of age.

It’s never going to happen, and his mother doesn’t need to try to protect him by hiding him away for a month either. She, along with everyone in that damned palace, treats him delicately enough as it is. Ever since he’d presented around eleven years old, he’s been wrapped in cotton wool. But just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly capable of standing up for himself. In fact, he can’t wait to be free of the silly protective measures that were put in place almost seven years ago. The moment he’s crowned, he’s doing away with all of it.

“Really, Charles. I hope you’re not upset we had to come here. You know that it’s for your own safety-”

“Yes, maman, I know,” he interrupts, then sighs and aims a small smile her way to soften his exasperated tone. “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t need any more time to recover. It isn’t as though I do much more than this in the palace, anyway.”

Reading books, painting, playing piano and chess - there isn’t much more that he’s allowed to do. The other activities that his brothers partake in, like horse riding and archery, aren’t permitted for him, nevermind that he performed them just fine before he’d presented. That argument has never worked to convince anyone to grant him allowances because it’s not really about whether he’s capable.

“Well...if you’re certain.”

“I am,” he says, firmly. His mother nods.

Good. That’s settled, then. She speaks again before he has a chance to reopen his book.

“The other thing I’ve been meaning to discuss with you - your uncle has invited the Sainz siblings to come and stay at the palace. You met their two eldest when you were very young, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”

“No,” Charles confirms, intrigued. “Who are they?”

“Their father is a Spanish duke, and his son, Prince Carlos, is just a few years older than you. Unlikely that he will ever inherit the throne, but it is a distant possibility.”

Ah. So a marriage prospect, then. Charles bites back a sigh. From one prison to another.

“You should get to know him better,” his mother says, reading his expression.

“Why?” he asks, just to be difficult. He knows very well why.

“Because. Your Uncle Thierry thinks it’s a good idea.”

Well, if his uncle thinks it, then so it shall be.

Charles sinks further into his chair, grabbing the book he’d set aside and reopening it pointedly. His mother takes the hint. (The book may be a dull one, but at least it serves its purpose as a conversation ender superbly.)

****

“Monaco could be a very important chess piece in future conflicts,” Caco explains, leaning against the table to address his young cousin. “It is under the military protection of France, and having the force of France at our disposal could be instrumental in quelling potential unrest.”

Carlos Junior looks up at him from his seat at the desk, notes of skepticism in his expression. He doesn’t make an objection just yet - his cousin would not be telling him this unless it had come from his father directly.

Caco sets down a piece of paper in front of him. It’s a drawing of a young man who can’t be more than eighteen, his boyish features evident even in sketch form. The other thing that is undeniable is his beauty, a sense of mischief and innocence dancing in his eyes that has Carlos wondering if it’s a faithful representation.

“Is he this pretty in person?”

Caco simply gives him a look, not dignifying that with a response. “That is Prince Charles, heir apparent to the Monegasco throne, seventeen years old. In the next few weeks, you will study everything there is to know about him - his favorite novels, plays, composers. You will brush up on your French-”

“Wait, wait, cousin,” Carlos interjects, blinking in confusion. “What does a prince have to do with me?”

“That omega...” Carlos’ gaze shoots up to his cousin, brows raising. “...has everything to do with you.”

Ah. That changes things, indeed.

“As I was saying,” Caco continues, sighing. “In order to keep the prince safe, he’s been kept sheltered from his father’s court for years, ever since he was a boy. Thus, when he does make a rare public appearance, such as at the opera or ballet, his mere presence causes quite a stir.”

Carlos’ eyes return to the paper in front of him, his gaze tracing a path over the prince’s nose and settling at the elegant curve of his lips.

“You must win his favor before anyone else has the chance,” his cousin says. “The first visit in a few weeks’ time will be vital. We can afford no mistakes. But always remember, you are first and foremost a Sainz. Do not forget the reason behind all of this, no matter how ‘pretty’ his face.”

Carlos tries to bite back his smirk, but likely fails from the look his cousin sends him.

“Charm him, Carlos. Make him smile. God knows you are good at that. The rest will be up to fate.”

[crimson--freak]

Apparently the NHS isn’t going to prescribe puberty blockers to trans children anymore unless under “exceptional circumstances” or as part of a trial.

Go figure :/

[riseatlantisss]

The end we start from

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader/Tav Around 1,8 words Takes place after the events in Cazador's palace in act 3 (non-ascended Astarion, established relationship) Angst with a happy ending (and loooots of sex) <3

Astarion doesn’t feel good enough. you show him he’s everything.

TW : 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, very angry/angsty/rough sex, fingering, mature language, mentions of death and depression, mentions of blood

A/N : when i don’t work, i do two things: i take care of my dog and i play BG3. i don’t eat. i don’t sleep. i don’t socialize. i just play BG3. and I write stuff about *him*.

Astarion is many things. Quiet is not one of them. But lately, that’s all he’s been, and you’ve been worrying about him night and day. Tonight is no exception. You wake up in the middle of the night and realize two things : not only is Astarion’s side of the bed empty but the sheets and pillows are untouched, uncrumpled. His side hasn’t been slept in. This isn’t right. Of course, he doesn’t really need to sleep but he always, always lays next to you at night, spooning you, playing with your hair and whispering sweet I love yous in your ear until you fall asleep. His absence means something’s off. Unable to shake off the anxiety, you get up in one swift motion, determined to find him. No chance you’re falling back asleep now anyway.

Your bare feet hit the cold marble floor and you shiver as you make your way accros the bedroom in a hurry. You think of searching outside in case he went for a hunt, but it turns out you don’t have to look too far. There he is, silently leaning against the wall by the window, gazing into the pitch-black night of the Underdark. The light in the room is so dim that you couldn’t even spot him from your bed. You approach him and your heart breaks a little when you notice the lingering sadness in his crimson eyes, enhanced by the faint light of the burning candles next to him.

You want to ask him if he’s ok but it’s obvious he’s not so instead, you remain silent and close the space between the two of you, wrapping your arms around him and gently resting your head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask softly after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion averts his gaze and gives you a faint smile, nothing but a twist of lips.

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m just being selfish, as usual. Forgive me, y/n.”

You frown and stare at him incredulously. “You’re not selfish,” you say, surprised at how intensely he means it. “Why would you even say that?”

“I –” He pauses, rethinks his words. This does nothing to make you less worried. “I caused you great pain,” he finally says. “I put you in danger. Repeatedly, ever since we met. You could have died a hundred times and it would have been my own, entire fault.”

You look up to him and feel a lump form in your throat. You have never seen him look like this – grief in his eyes and etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m not dead, Astarion. I’m right here with you.” You say as you wrap your arms around his neck. He makes a sound somewhere near a sob and your arms tighten.

“But I did put you in danger and now you’re stuck with me for eternity, in the middle of nowhere, and you—" Again, he stops. He’s bad at this, at talking about emotions. But he fights through it because it’s you. And nothing can be left unsaid between the two of you. Not after everything that’s happened. “You deserve so much better. You deserve the world, and I can’t give it to you.” You’re not sure where this conversation is going but you don't want to find out. His lower lip quiver but he goes on, words spilling out of him like blood from a wound. “I can’t give it to you, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it. It’s killing me all over again.” You crumble under each one of his words. His lips are trembling now and you can’t stand it. You can’t but you can’t do him the dishonor of looking away either.

“Astarion, I chose this life.” Your hands flutter to his face, each one cupping a cold cheek, forcing him to look at you. Your heart is pounding, and you know he can feel it. “I had a choice; I could stay, or I could run, and I chose you. I’m not stuck here. I’m home.”

Astarion heaves a faltering breath in an attempt at composure. “Sometimes I think you would be happier without me. Better off.” He barely mouths the words, but you hear them all distinctively, nonetheless. “You should go and leave me here. Walk in the sun. Be happy and live your life.” You draw your hands away from his face and he steps back, speaking louder now.

“It won’t get any better in here,” he continues, gesturing urgently around the room. “It’ll always be cold and dark, I’ll always be a blood-thirsty monster. I belong to the shadows, and I’ll never be able to make you happy, so you might as well just leave.”

His words knock the air out of your lungs and, for a moment, you cannot breathe. You feel your pulse pounding in your veins and blood thrumming under your skin as your heartbreak turns into anger. That fucking idiot, you think, looking up at him through eyes blurred with tears.

“You don’t know what makes me happy. You don’t,” you shout, surprised by the vehemence in your voice. "And you certainly don't get to speak for me." Astarion looks at you in such confusion that you almost feel bad for a moment, but you continue.

“You – you make me happy, Astarion, gods you do. I would rather live an eternity in the Underdark with you than one more day in the fucking sun.” Your heart is clenching in your chest, and you can feel the heat pooling in your cheeks. “By no means would I be better off, let alone happier, without you. I can’t believe that you could even think –” You trail off and sigh in frustration. You can’t bring yourself to scream at him any longer because that’s all he’s ever known before you, screams and shouts and abuse, and you can’t do this to him. But that doesn’t leave you with many options to get through to him. Astarion opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t let him.

Without warning you grab his shirt to pull him close and your lips crash into his, knocking the breath out of both of you with the force that you collide with. It only fuels your rage because the moment his lips are on yours, you can’t help thinking that you almost lost this once and you can’t actually lose it. You won’t let that happen. So you kiss him harder. It’s rough and desperate and sloppy. It's harsh breath and biting teeth.

He turns you around and backs you against the wall. You take it rather hard, but you welcome the sting. Anything to shut him up about not being good enough for you. He crowds in closer, presses you even harder against the wall, shoving his knee between your thighs. His cold lips connect to your throat, making you eagerly tilt your head to give him access to your thrumming pulse dancing at your neck. You have absolutely no qualms about it. If he wants it, it’s his.

But he doesn’t take it. Instead, his mouth sucks and licks, making you squirm and rock your hips against him. You cling to him, grabbing his shoulders and sliding your hands down his shirt and to his back. He hoists you up like you weighed nothing and you wrap both legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his curly silver hair and pull him forward to feel that mouth on yours again. His tongue running over your lip makes you grind faster, searching for more, more, more. You moan when his hand reaches beneath your gown and through your damp underwear.

Firm, icy fingers are stroking you into madness. You make a sound that’s close to a whimper, but more like a groan, because damn it, you are so impatient now. You are clenching – aching to have him inside.

He is gasping at the feeling of your fluttering around him, and you must be gasping too, but you’re not sure; your head falls back and it feels like you’re breathing, but you could just as well be drowning.

You dig your nails hard into his back - you need to channel the anger into something. Maybe you’ll be the one drawing blood this time. You lean forward to rest your dizzy head on his shoulder and groan in anticipation. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes his hard, large cock into you, going steadily until he’s all the way in.

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You plead and he obeys.

He sets a pace that graces all the right spots, spurred on the increasingly desperate noises escaping your mouth. This is no effort at all for him, holding you up easily and fucking you hard with determination. But you can see it when you rest your forehead against his – the sheer weakness you feel is reflected right back at you and you know he needs this just as much as you do.

You are so close. You need to concentrate on breathing, just so you simply don’t die. Your lower back thuds against the wardrobe with your oh gods and fucks singing in tandem. The vampire trails open-mouthed kisses and little bites down your neck while maintaining the almost vicious pace in and out of you. Every stroke curls and loves and breaks you into submission. You forget to be angry because your release is in his hands and your body is desperately handing itself over to him.

Your thighs start to quiver around him, the sounds of wetness and the feeling of his own explosion of pleasure deep inside you taking you so high that eventually, you shatter into him. You’re so grateful for the strength holding you up, so you can fall apart.

Your repeatedly moan his name on your way back to consciousness, lips brushing softly against his pale skin.

Before you know what is happening, you break into a sob.

“Please…. Please don’t ever tell me to leave, ever again.” You try to articulate, your voice shaking uncontrollably.

He sinks down onto his knees, holding you in his lap and whispering, “Shh,” into your ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice is low and full of gravel. He never sounded so sweet. “I love you, always have and always will. And you’re not going anywhere.”

[corrodedbisexual]

@waning-croissant well... I had to.

"Nope. Outside of D&D, I am no hero," Eddie talks as he keeps walking, a step ahead of Steve. "I see danger and I just turn heel and run. Or at least that's what I've learned about myself this week."

Eddie's not even sure what he's saying anymore, he just knows that if he doesn't keep talking over the nightmarish ambience of this hellscape, he might actually go insane. Hearing his own voice, he can at least pretend like he's just narrating a game, and the rest is his overactive imagination. Not that he actually believes that, of course, it's just... irrationally comforting.

"Give yourself a break, man."

Steve reaches for him, but Eddie's body reacts on autopilot to an unexpected touch, practically slapping the boy's arm away. He's on a roll here, words still spilling right over the all-too-late pang of regret in his chest. It would have been nice to experience, that pat on the chest or squeeze on the shoulder, whatever Steve was going for, if it weren't for Eddie's perpetual skittishness.

"See? The only reason—"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"—I came in here was 'cause—"

"Eddie!"

Eddie's head snaps to Steve as he cuts off the rest of his semi-planned speech, which was suddenly inspired by the sight of Nancy Wheeler ahead of them. If he was the cowardly bard in the story, the least he could be useful for is cheer on the real hero of it. Give the courageous bat-biting paladin the motivation to keep fighting.

"Huh?"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth and listen?" Steve's brows are furrowed, but his tone isn't mean, and there's an amused smile playing on his lips. "You're almost worse than Dustin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie opens his mouth, lets his jaw hang for a second, and closes it again with a click of the teeth, as he processes the words he would have perceived as an insult, had he not been piecing together what the kid meant to Steve for the past several days. It was a bit of a revelation that their relationship ran far deeper than just some giant one-sided platonic crush on Dustin's part, like Eddie had mistakenly assumed throughout most of this year.

Steve takes a small step closer, the first one to invade Eddie's personal space for once, after Eddie's been doing it for the better part of their walk together. Unconsciously, like his body just decided that being tucked into Steve meant safety from the bloodthirsty bats, and the creepy vines, and that Vecna guy they could run into any minute.

"We all ran, all four of us. Just now, when we saw that giant swarm of bats in the distance, remember?" Steve speaks softly, waving his arm vaguely in the direction behind them. "Because sometimes, running and surviving is the only thing you can do."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. He just focuses on looking at the boy's eyes, like a normal person, and trying not stare at his lips moving. But then, when he pauses, Steve's eyes flicker down, and... huh. Huh. Wait, what?

"Of course you've been running. You couldn't have fought Vecna when he took Chrissy. Or Carver's crazy mob, or the entire police force of Hawkins," Steve keeps talking intently, looking into Eddie's eyes again like his gaze never wavered south. "Any more than we could fight that whole swarm. Because we'd definitely be dead now if we tried, no matter how metal you think I am," he adds with a tiny smug smile that's entirely Eddie's fault. "So there's a difference between being a coward, and acting stupid and reckless."

Steve pats his shoulder twice, then turns and keeps walking, and Eddie moves to follow him like on a tether, before his flustered brain even catches up.

"H-hey, I never said you were metal! I said what you did with that bat was metal," he grumbles, thankful for the darkness concealing his undoubtedly flushed face.

"I beg to differ," Steve turns around to tease, grinning, and pointedly tugs on his own collar. "You're the resident metalhead, and I'm wearing your vest, that does make me at least a little bit metal."

Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Harrington. Eddie's not sure what possessed him to throw that thing at the boy. At the time, he only thought of how he wouldn't survive the whole ordeal of Steve's hairy tits on display for much longer, but him in Eddie's clothes? Even worse.

"Fine," Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets, catching up to Steve in three quick strides. "Only a little bit though." He sneaks a glance at the boy; Steve's not looking back, once again on guard, surveying their surroundings with his flashlight, but the pleased smile makes its way to his face regardless.

"Doesn't matter why you jumped after us, Munson, you're here now. And don't try to act all modest when you've just saved a guy's ass. Which, by the way..." Steve turns his head to Eddie again. "Nice job with that oar. Too bad you hate jocks, you'd have made a fine hitter on the school baseball team."

Eddie gasps and grips his own chest in mock offense, even as warmth spreads up his neck and pools in the tips of his ears, thankfully hidden beneath his hair.

"How dare you, with these vile insinuations."

"I'm just saying," Steve shakes his head, laughing. "You're pretty... bat-ass, too, Eddie." He glances over again with a shit-eating grin. "Get it? Bat-ass?"

"Oh no, Steve Harrington is actually a dork with terrible puns," Eddie mumbles to himself and sighs, rolling his eyes up to the dark sky.

"Shut the fuck up, my puns are amazing." Steve elbows him in the ribs and chuckles. "You know what, I'm starting to understand why Henderson was obsessed with getting us to hang out."

What is that supposed to mean?

"He... he was?" Eddie gapes.

Another earthquake saves him from the mortifying ordeal of re-assessing the whole Munson doctrine, for the hundredth time this week. And as they hurry along to catch up with the girls, and Steve's hand grips his bicep whenever he falls behind, Eddie wonders if maybe he should just set fire to the doctrine and let it turn to ash.

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[angstywaifu]

Shower Masturbation - Bodhi Durran

Bodhi Durran x Reader Summary: Reader think's she's running late for patrol with Bodhi and rushes to his room. Instead of finding Bodhi ready and waiting for her like he normally would be, she instead finds her friend doing something else. Before she can walk away a single word leaves his lips that changes everything. warnings: nsfw 18+, m masturbation, fem reader, smut

Kinktober MasterList

I was running late. Again. Though I knew Bodhi wouldn’t be surprised. He’d probably be waiting for me as per usual. I rush around the corner, nearly barrelling into Xaden and Garrick who are leaning up against the wall.

”Late again Y/N?” Garrick muses as he smirks down at me.

I roll my eyes at him before moving past them. “You should be use to it by now Tavis,” I call over my shoulder as I continue to rush down the hallway towards Bodhi’s room.

I hear their laughter behind me, no doubt shaking their heads at me as I rush away. I slow my pace, coming to a stop outside Bodhi’s room. I raise my hand and knock on his door as I always do. If I knocked any other way Bodhi got annoyed because he couldn’t tell it was me outside. But after a few seconds I hear no Bodhi rushing to the door. I knock again in my familiar pattern. Still nothing. Maybe he was late as well? I turn the handle, finding the door unlocked. Meaning he’d most likely fallen asleep.

I push open the door, but the bed in the middle of the room is empty bar some of his flight gear strewn across the top. I close the door quietly behind me, walking further in the room. He’d definitely been here recently. Or had to be nearby. It was unlike him to leave his door unlocked if he wasn’t here. And my answer comes moments later, the sound of running water meeting my ears.

I turn my head towards his bathroom, the source of the noise of running water. My eyes going wide with what I see, freezing myself in place. The bathroom door is wide open. Giving me the perfect view of what the mirror catches. Bodhi. Water cascading down his bare back. One hand resting on the wall above his head, the other washing the remains of shampoo from his hair.

I can’t help but watch as the remnants of shampoo cascade down his back, travelling along the ridges of muscle before rolling over hard round ass cheeks. My mouth drops open at the sight. I shouldn’t be watching this. I can’t be watching this. But I am. I’m frozen to the spot as my eyes roam over the bare back of Bodhi. My closest friend Bodhi. Bodhi who I could not deny was attractive as hell. Bodhi who I often caught myself looking at if I let my mind wander too far before tearing my gaze from him.

And right now I should be tearing my gaze from him, and I almost succeed until he turns around. I swear my mouth hits the floor as my eyes now take in the front on view of Bodhi. His bowed head causing his black curls to drop over his forehead. Water cascading over his shoulders and a very sculpted chest I had never seen before due to Bodhi keeping his shirt on unlike the other boys in our friend group during training. He shifts his stance, legs spread wide showing me all of him. Including the very hard and rigid cock, stretching upwards towards his navel and almost reaching it.

The sight has me clamping my thighs together, pulling my bottom through my teeth as I take him all in. My eyes following the hand that reaches down and fists the base of his cock before sliding up and down at a controlled pace. Fuck.

His hand keeps working his length, up and down, his jaw ticking when his hips jut forward as he runs his thumb over the tip. He tips his head back, a guttural groan slipping from his lips as he picks up his pace. The sound sending a shiver down my spine, my teeth clamping shut to stop the moan that wants to escape my lips. But the rest of my body responds. Goosebumps forming under my flight leathers, my pussy aching and clenching around nothing at the sight before me. My fingers ghosting over the waistband of my pants, wanting to dip between them and give into the arousal taking over me as I watching Bodhi come undone. Desperately wanting to be the reason he comes undone. To feel those hands grasp onto me as he fucks me senseless.

I slowly step back, trying to snap out of my trance. To leave and pretend as if none of this happened. To pretend I didn’t stand here and watch my closest friend masturbate in the shower. I manage to turn and grasp the handle. And in the split second that I turn and grasp the handle, a single word leaves Bodhi’s lips. A single world that changes everything.

I’ve heard him say that word a thousand times. But never in the way it leaves his lips now. A sinful moan escapes his lips before he utters the word, barely above a whisper, but I hear it clear as day.

”Y/N”

My head whips around to see Bodhi starting right at me. His onyx eyes locking with me, captivating me under a spell. I can see the panic in his eyes at being caught. But slowly it changes, a slight confidence sneaking in as his eyes trail over me. At the hand lingering at the waistband of my pants. At the way I’ve squeezed my legs together. And how I’m still biting my bottom lip to hold in the moans and gasps that want to break free.

The corner of his mouth twitches into a smirk I rarely get to see, but love so much. He cocks his head to the side, resting it on the arm that now grips the top of the shower, his knuckles turning white. I can’t help but cast my gaze back to the hand that is now pumping his cock faster and faster. His hips now rocking back and forth into his hand. I can tell he’s close. The tip now looking angry and red, while the veins running up and down his length look ready to burst. I hear his breathing pick up as he nears his climax.

My name falls from Bodhi’s lips again, louder than before, but still with the same lust filled tone. I look up, meeting his gaze again. His eyes blown wide as his chest rises and falls quickly. Bodhi’s lips part as he lets out a series of guttural moans, his body tensing as he reaches his climax, pulling his bottom lip through his teeth as he continues to look at me.

Bodhi’s hand slows as he milks himself, his body relaxing as he comes down from his high. Not once do his eyes leave mine. Both locked in a trance over what has just happened. Over what I’ve just watched happened. He takes a step forward, breaking me from the spell his eyes have me under. My body finally reacting how it should have the moment I realised what was happening.

I tear open the door, a loud bang echoing down the hall causing Garrick and Xaden to turn their attention to me as I bolt down the hallway as Bodhi calls out to me from his room. Xaden opens his mouth to most likely ask what’s happened, but the door banging open a second time draws his attention back to Bodhi’s room, his eyes going wide. As I turn the corner I catch a glimpse of Bodhi standing outside his door with a towel barely covering his lower half as he calls out to me.

@violent-little-thing @softodettes @marrianena @idkimjusthere100 @strangeeaglepost @puttyly @kyl13sm1l3y @wildflowermooon @oliviajm21

[rotthepoet]

heyy, i’ve been reading a lot of ur stuff lately and it’s safe to say im obsessed. i was wondering if u could write 69 w the slytherin boys? only if ur comfortable but i feel like that would be really cool. ty!

POOKIE IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER I HAVE BEEN IN SUCH A SLUMP I’LL NEVER MAKE YOU WAIT WEEKS AGAIN THANK YOU MY LOVE!!!!!

Im sitting here wondering how i should write this?? Hmmm. Writing my thoughts as i think them dont mind me<3

Smut below the cut

Draco would like… maybe be the most gentle?? If i do say so myself, and I do. He’ll probably put the most thought into how its going to happen, when, why. He wanted a lovely date, treat you nice all night, be the perfect boyfriend… and expects a reward. Self indulgent bitch. Anyways! He leads you to bed, nice and slow, passionate make out sesh, you are living a dream! Then as you both finally get your clothes off, he’s kissing down your thighs, looking into your eyes and whispering soft praises before he lays on his back, and you(knowing the drill) go to straddle his face before he grips your thigh and smirks. “Other direction, darling.” And he cant help but laugh at how you blush. He lets you set the pace, matching your speed or slowness until you both finish <3

With Blaise, it just kinda happens naturally. No one had to go watch or read porn to think about it. You and him were getting freaky one night, a movie turning into wandering hands, turning into you on his lap with his tongue down your throat. The energy in the room just said 69, and you’d be a fool to ignore it. You’re on top, and the grip he has on your ass is fucking delicious. He’s so controlling over your body, pressing his face right up into your cunt, practically inhaling, while you can barely take his tip. If you take too long going down on him he might bite your thighs to speed things up ;)

Oh man, Mattheo Fucking Riddle. Bitch. He’s a power hungry hard dom with a knack for getting what he wants when he wants it. Oh man. You’re in for a ride- no. A rollercoaster. He’s on top of you, ravaging your dripping pussy while fucking his dick into the back of your throat. Its impossible to breathe with his heavy balls slapping your face, but it cant be much easier for him with your thighs wrapping around his head. If he’s in a good mood, he’ll let you have your way. Otherwise, he’s manhandling you into whatever position he wants. He might get you upside down if you arent careful.

Theodore and Mattheo are pretty similar. Them and Enzo are the like.. roughest of the group? That being rough without copious amounts of praise. You’re far less likely to have to work for your “good girl” with Theo, but sometimes he’s a tease. Anyways, Trust the moment your lips are around his tip he’s tugging your hair and bucking up into you while he feasts. It’s so messy and loud and he’s halfway sitting up because your hips keep running from all the stimulation:(

And Lorenzo. This fucking bitch. He’s wanting to 69 all the time. I mean he gets head. You get head. I get head? Everyone gets head! And it takes half the time because two birds with one stone. In my humble, Enzo hating, opinion… he’s not big on foreplay. I mean he’ll finger you and stretch you out because he’s not a total monster, but he’s way more excited to get into the main course than an appetizer. Much like Theo or Mattheo, he’ll set the pace with his hips. No time to play around he needs to be balls deep in you rn.

[bellarkeselection]

Walter to the Rescue

Gif not mine it belongs to @alphinias

After a ride in the woods late at night you wind up getting lost and to the readers surprise Cole actually answers your call.

Tag list - @cognacdelights

Kicking my horse in the belly to go faster with the wind running through my hair that I left completely loose. This wasn’t the first time I had taken one of the Walter family's horses to clear my head from a day of high school. It all could be a lot especially when everyone in this town knows you have a close family relationship with the Walter kids. Because it only results in half the school thinking you're sleeping with some of them. “Woah boy. Easy now.”

My horse begins making some noise in protest hearing some thunder off in the distance. I knew that horses could get spooked easy but I wasn't too worried about it. Alex had taught me how to keep your cool on them. Looking around at the treeline the leaves have already begun changing colors making it really beautiful. “Ah!” I screamed suddenly when lighting hit the ground in front of me and that caused my horse to whine and throw me off its back.

“Ow! No wait…” I called out to my horse but he was already far off into the treeline. Running a hand through my hair I sighed seeing that the sky was getting darker meaning there was a storm coming. Digging inside my jacket pocket I drew out my phone dialing the house phone getting no answer. “Seriously a house full of that many people and nobody hears the phone!”

I guess I couldn't blame them for not answering. That house is always loud and crazy no matter what time of day. Plus now that Jackie from New York had moved in things got more complicated. Tapping my knees in thought I tried to decide who would answer my call. Alex was busy with Jackie, Parker was probably outside playing with Benny. Will was working tonight selling houses. Jordan, Nathan, Lee, Isaac and Danny didn't drive. So that left me in the hands of the most popular guy in town who was known for hooking up with multiple girls Cole. Lifting my head up to the sky I felt heavy rain coming down where I scrambled to my feet but collapsed when I felt a sharp pain in my left ankle. “Shit!...guess he's my only choice now.”

It wasn't that I hated the guy. I just hated the reputation he had made for himself. The rain came pouring down where I grunted, forcing myself to stand up. I hopped over to the treeline to get some coverage from the storm. The wind was picking up, shaking everything so I dialed his number. “Pick up, pick up.”

“What's going on, Y/n?” His voice came through the phone.

“Don't make fun of me but I'm lost.” I stated.

He chuckled at me. “How did little woodlen girl get lost?”

“Cole, I'm not in the mood for teasing right now.” I spat back.

The former star football player still was laughing on the other end. “I’m sorry I just can’t believe girl who hunts with her father managed to get lost on our property. I mean I never thought I’d see the day from someone like you.”

“Cole, I am currently stuck out in a storm and called you for help so can you take this seriously please!” I raised my voice pulling the hood of my jacket over my head shivering when the wind blew harshly against me.

Finally to my surprise he came to his senses responding back to me. “Alright I’ll come get you.” He hung up the call and I was forced to listen and watch the storm get worse for an hour or so.

Burying my face into my knees my body was shaking from the cold and the fact that my clothes were soaked head to toe. I heard a vehicle engine getting closer in my direction and it pulled to a stop showing me it was Cole’s truck he was usually working on in the barn. The drivers door flung opened and quickly shut where I saw someone running towards me with a jacket in their hands. “Cole?”

“One knight in shining armor, woodland girl.” He declared dropping down on a knee, draping the jacket over my shoulders.

I glared up into his green eyes seeing his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. “Can you please call me by my actual name for once?”

“Maybe someday. Come on let's get out of the cold before we both get frost bite.” He offered me his hands tugging me to stand.

“Argh!” I winced, dropping down on my other knee after my injured ankle.

Cole was quick on his reflectances sweeping me up bridal style into his muscular arms. “Looks like you needed a better horse riding teacher than Alex huh?”

“Let’s not talk about it right now.” I said feeling embarrassed enough as is. He helped me into the passenger seat and we drove home. He carried me upstairs and sat me down on the edge of his bed in his bedroom.

He searched around in the closet grabbing himself a change of clothes. Then he tossed me one of his blue tea shirts and some shorts. “Here I can help you if you need it.”

“Turn around first.” I instructed him, blushing since I haven't even kissed anyone before. He did as told giving me the chance to slip my wet shirt for his and shrugging off my jeans until I thought about getting the shorts on. I pulled them up as much as I could before getting his attention. “Cole, I can’t get them up without standing on my foot.”

He looks over his shoulder coming back to me moving his hands down to the left side telling me. “Lift your foot for me.” I lifted my foot and he shrugged it up then helping me sit back down on the bed so I could do the same to my right leg without his assistance.

“Thanks, Cole.” I whispered where he stands in front of me letting silence fill the room. I avoided his gaze, not sure of what to say until I shut my eyes to ask the question. “So did you have to skip a hookup with Erin to come rescue me?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Why would you care if I did. You have a crush on me or something, woodland girl?”

“Y/n, you know my name so use it.” I corrected him. “And even if I did, you don't have relationships. I wouldn't want to be another girl tricked by The Cole Effect.”

He raised a brow at my words. “Oh yeah. What makes you think you'd just be another girl I hook up with?”

“Like I said everyone at school knows you don't do real boyfriend girlfriend relationships. You do hook ups and my mother saw it before I did but I refuse to let my feelings for you lead me down that path since you can't possibly feel the same way about me as I do you.” I accidentally admitted without realizing it to him.

Cole stared blankly at me. “You don't think I feel the same?”

“If you did, you have a funny way of showing it.” Shrugging my shoulders I lowered my gaze down from his green orbs.

Cole simply replied then closed the gap between us. “Is this enough of an effort for ya.” He cupped my face in his hands, crashing his lips down onto mine.

I gasped in shock and awe that the famous Cole Walter was kissing me. He was kissing me, the girl that wasn’t popular like he was. The girl that was just a friend of the family but still no one special. “Cole…I’ve never….never done anything like this.” I mumbled tugging on his blonde locks deepening the kiss. He moaned gently pushing me down onto the mattress and he climbed over top of me never breaking the heated kiss until we needed air.

“I’m not doing this to just have a hook up with you, Y/n. I’m not good with commitment but I do actually care about you.” He breathed out holding himself up by his hands on either side of me, blonde hair falling in front of his eyes and his eyes were focused on me.

Raising one hand up I tangled my fingers into his hair asking the question that was eating away at me now. “So what does that make us now, Cole Walter?”

“We can take this slow and figure it out as we go along, Y/n Woodland Girl L/n.” He smiled leaning down kissing me gently this time. I giggled wrapping my arms around his neck bringing him closer to me enjoying the kisses we shared.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[razorblade180]

Together again

Carmine:Mom? Can I ask an odd question?

Ruby:If an odd question is asked by an odd girl to her odd daughter, isn’t it just normal? *flips pancakes* All ears.

Carmine:Hypothetically, if I met you at my age, who would win in a fight?

Ruby:Hmmm good question. You’re fifteen so, you kick my ass. Even if I’m thinking about me in Beacon.

Carmine:Really?

Ruby:I was scrappy but very kick-able unfortunately. Your birthday is close so if we’re entertaining this seriously then I think my journey to Haven still wouldn’t be enough.

Carmine:And Atlas?

Ruby:I fear I kick your ass. I was really hitting my stride at that point. Plus I was pretty temperamental then. We might punch the spit out of each other for a bit.

Carmine:That’s interesting. Guess I’m not as far behind as I imagined.

Ruby:I wouldn’t compare your progress to mine. Life is pretty different from when I was your age.

Carmine:I can’t compare myself to my peers since they all suck! You might’ve saved the world a little too hard. Not many cream in the crop anymore.

Ruby:Ha! You overestimate me. Sure, I killed Salem in a pretty fantastic way, but I don’t think i curved the skill level of the world. There are plenty huntsmen that were underwhelming growing up. Then some of them are late bloomers.

Carmine:Do late bloomers survive?

Jaune:*walks in* I did. For the most part.

Carmine:You were a late bloomer?

Jaune:Yeah I sucked.

Ruby:*scrambling eggs* Don’t listen to him. Your father did not suck. He was painfully average for quite a while.

Jaune:That doesn’t sound any better.

Ruby:You were starting from scratch; it’s only natural. I’m not a fan of trail by fire but your father made every experience that for himself. Paid off in in the end.

Carmine:How did you keep up before that?

Jaune:Your mother was in love with me so she stuck to my side.

Ruby:*red* That is not the reason!

Jaune:I mean it kinda is.

Ruby:Carmine, as a leader and someone who influenced others to go with her, I wouldn’t leave them behind. That’s bad leadership and a recipe for disaster.

Jaune:She was mostly worried about something happening to me and being too far ahead meant potentially losing me, the person she loved.

Ruby:….*flips pancakes* It was a valid fear.

Jaune:*kisses her head* It was.

Carmine:Hmm, that makes sense. You would be more effective together.

Ruby:Am I sensing a bit of longing to have a team?

Carmine:Nah. Not really. They’d definitely make things more of a hassle. Although, I will admit aimless chatter around a campfire and meals makes me a little envious. The past two years at Beacon were pretty dull solo.

Ruby:Friendship feeds the soul. There’s people here in Vacou I know that will be happy to see your face around. Even of the conversations are awkward, make sure to greet them. I know Aero probably misses you~

Carmine:Heh, is that so? Guess that should be more first stop. *stands up* I’m heading out.

Ruby:Huh!? But breakfast! It’s almost all done.

Carmine:Yeah, but….it’s not dad’s breakfast soooooo.

Ruby:What’s wrong with my pancakes! They’re awesome!

Carmine:I never said they were bad. It’s just that compared to dad’s, I fear they’re painfully average.

The girl smiled as she slowly grabbed one anyways and held it with her mouth as she waved goodbye before leaving out the front door with an apple.

Ruby:…..

Jaune:And just like her mother, she is my number one defender.

Ruby:I put so much love into these!

Carmine, in the distance: I CAN TASTE IT!

Ruby:*squints* I don’t think that makes me feel better.

Jaune:There’s always lunchtime.

[of-cauldrons-and-inkpens]

You Missed My Heart: PART 2

PART 1 LINK      |      PART 2 LINK      |      PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.

Word Count: 11,305 

Author’s Note: I swear I re-wrote this three different times and all of them were drastically different. I checked for typos, but I’m posting this at four in the morning so there may be a few. 

Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel gets injured at one point; Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

I groaned as I opened my eyes. My face was pressed in the crook between where Miguel’s ribs and arms would normally meet. He had moved me there in the middle of the night when I had managed to drift too far away from him. I had tried to squirm and protest, but I ended up caving before he would let go. I knew he was stubborn enough to pin me there out of spite and it wasn’t worth it.

Miguel was still awake somehow. It was dark in the room, save for the faint light that drifted through the curtains. Whatever time it was, it was either too late or too early for him to be up.

“Go back to sleep.” Miguel said. His voice was stern but gentle. I slid my hands down and grabbed onto the edge of the blanket. I hauled it upward, pulling it over my head. He let out a low chuckle as he watched me try to disappear.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after three.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck against the blanket that covered the top of my head. “Get some sleep.” 

I glanced up at the gap between his chest and the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting his features in soft lines and shadows. He looked angelic. He was focusing on something in front of him, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows every so often. 

What was he doing?

I gently pulled down the blanket so that I could see what he was up to. 

Miguel was propped up on a pillow that leaned against the headboard. His eyes were focused on his hands, which were held out in front of him, spaced apart by about six inches, palm facing palm. Threads glistened between his fingers in the moonlight. His fingers were twisting and weaving new threads around the ones that lay between his fingers. The thin webs had been pulled from his spinnerets in his upper wrists. It was like watching someone play cat’s cradle.

One of his arms rested on my back. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it did hold me in place, only allowing me the bare minimum of space for my chest to move as I breathed.

“You should go to sleep, too.” I said. I turned my head back and buried my face in his chest. He smiled, continuing to work. 

“I’m not tired.”

I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were beautiful like this. His face looked peaceful. I was too tired to see if he was lying or not.

“Have you gotten any sleep yet? Any at all?” I asked. He shook his head. 

“I’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.” 

I nodded, too tired to argue with him. I started to say something, but the words slurred together until I fell silent. Sleep pulled me in, welcoming me warmly. 

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, never faltering in his work. 

Something clattered to the floor downstairs, ripping me from my dream.

I winced, feeling the sun burn my eyes as it streamed in through the window. I tried to push myself upward, but I was overtaken with a dull ache in all of my muscles. 

Fucking hell.

It felt like I had been in a car crash. Every part of my body hurt. But, the most noticeable ache was between my legs. I swallowed hard as I pushed myself upward. I needed aspirin. 

As I moved, I couldn’t help but notice a divot in the bed on Miguel’s side. It was lined with sheets that had been ripped through. The hole was a decent size; roughly the size of a fist and a couple of inches deep. 

It hadn’t been there last night. At least, I hadn’t seen it there.

I slid my right hand over to touch the edges of the divot. It was the perfect size to accommodate Miguel’s hand. But why was it there?

I winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my body. If he was in a decent mood, I could ask him about it. If not, it didn’t really matter.   

I leaned over and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. As I moved, a faint twinkle caught my eye. I flipped my hand over. In the middle of the night, Miguel had slipped something around my ring finger. It was a thin band that had been braided from webbing and then tied off on the front of my finger with a small knot. 

Huh.

I tapped my thumb against the material, expecting it to stick to my finger in the same way that the web had stuck to my ankle last night. But this one didn’t. It had been worn smooth by his fingertips. The material looked almost silver in the early morning light. When I pulled my hand into the shadows, it looked almost like braided moonstone. 

I wasn’t sure whether to feel violated by the fact that he had placed a wedding ring on me in the middle of the night, or impressed by the precision it had taken to make it. 

I turned my hand back and forth, inspecting the thing from all angles. If I had known him for any meaningful amount of time, it would have been a sweet and loving gesture. 

I groaned. It was a gift from the man who had basically kidnapped me from my home, but still, I needed to take whatever nice gestures I could get, no matter how presumptuous. 

I unscrewed the cap and dropped several pills into the palm of my hand. I pushed the first pill into my mouth. As I went to swallow, I couldn’t help but notice the faint numbness that lingered on my bottom lip. It was in the exact spot that his fangs had nipped, either on purpose or mistake.

That’s… weird.

I swallowed the pill and then leaned down to touch my thighs. Bright red marks covered my legs, showing off his handy-work. I quickly slid my fingers along the skin… only to meet the same result. 

The skin was numb. It was almost impossible to move the half centimeters of flesh that had been ever so gently nicked. He hadn’t bit me; not really. Just a graze was enough to do that. 

Jesus.

I winced as I downed the second pill. Then I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the dresser. I needed something to wear. But, I wasn’t wearing more lingerie. It already hurt to walk; I needed time to heal before I wore anything close to that again. I sighed as I stepped across the room, looking for something to wear. Miguel had laid his sweatshirt from last night on the dresser. I was sure that he had left it for me after my complaint last night. 

Maybe it was a peace offering. Or maybe the sex had been the peace offering and this was just him being nice.  

I quickly pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my hips and a good part of my thighs. I quickly snagged a pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on, as well.

Downstairs, something else clattered to the floor. What the hell was he doing?

As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed the boxes that had been piled up outside of the yellow door. I flipped open one of the cardboard tabs. Inside lay my things. At the bottom of the box, I noticed the sleeve of one of my sweaters. He had brought me my things, just as he had said he would. Did he ever go to sleep last night?

I padded down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen with every step. I figured that that was where he was. He didn’t seem like the kind to just linger around the house, looking for some kind of mindless activity to fill his time. He seemed too serious for that. 

I stepped into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. He was standing in front of the stove, pushing around eggs in a skillet. The downstairs was cold from the winter air but he was still wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He was a portrait of domesticity. 

I watched him closely as I stepped into the room.

“I made breakfast.” He said. 

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that the shattered plate had been picked out of the sink and had been thrown into the trash. He turned to meet my gaze. The dark circles under his eyes told me everything that I needed to know. 

“Miguel, you need to go back to bed.”

“I’ll be fine.” He frowned as he pushed the spatula around in the skillet. “I made coffee.”

“Thank you.” I made my way toward the coffee pot that rested on the counter beside him. As I did, his eyes never left the stove. I reached for one of the coffee cups that had been laid out for me. As I did, I glanced back at Miguel. God, he looked tired. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” I asked. 

He scoffed. “I sleep perfectly fine.” 

“Okay then.” I muttered. Guess that was a touchy subject for him. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the coffee pot. I filled the mug with the dark liquid. As I leaned forward to slide it back into its original spot, Miguel stepped to the side and pulled open the door to the fridge. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a container of creamer and handed it to me, then slinked back to the stove before the eggs had the chance to begin to brown. 

“Thank you.” I said. Warm light from the kitchen caught the ring, making it twinkle again. I considered asking him about it, but I decided not to. Surely he would bring it up if it was something that he wanted to talk about. 

A dark strand of hair fell across his forehead as he focused on the skillet. “Do you need any help?” I asked. 

He quickly shook his head. “What’s on your mind?” I wanted to get even a scrap of conversation from him; I needed some idea as to what he was thinking about. Maybe I should just leave him alone. Maybe he liked to exist in silence. I mean, if nothing else, he seemed used to it. 

“Work. How did you sleep?” He asked. 

“Okay, I guess.”  I added the creamer to my coffee and then returned the container to the spot where he had pulled it from. I carried my mug back to the counter, watching as he lifted the skillet off of the stovetop. I lifted the mug to my lips but then suddenly jerked it back. The glass was hot; it burned the skin of my lower lip everywhere except for the small spot in the center of my mouth. 

��Fuck!” I touched the skin and was met with a familiar numbness. 

Miguel dropped the skillet onto the stove and rushed forward. Within seconds he had cleared the area between the stove and the counter, moving so that he was standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, wasting no time to invade my personal space. “Sorry, I’m fine.” I said. I brushed my fingers along my lip, grazing the burned flesh and then the numbed skin. It felt weird and I didn’t like it. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I just burned myself.” He shook his head before reaching down and gently grabbing onto my chin. He pulled my head upward. My eyes met his for a moment before he turned his attention down to the mark on my mouth. 

“Move your hand.” He instructed. I did as I was told and dropped my hand down to the cold stone of the counter. 

“Miguel, I’m fine. I promise.” He didn’t believe me; I could tell from the deep line that had formed between his eyebrows.

“Open wide.” He instructed. His thumb slid across my lower lip. The touch was feather-light; almost too gentle, too caring. 

“Your face is red.” He remarked.

“This is demeaning.” The words slurred together as he inspected my mouth. 

“Is your lip numb?” His perfected vision could see the minute scrapes against my skin; tiny cuts that had been collateral damage in the excitement of the previous night. 

“A little bit.” He winced, but quickly fixed his expression before I could comment on it.

“It should wear off in a couple of hours. You weren’t actually bit so the effects shouldn’t be too bad. Just be careful not to hurt yourself.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

“What if you had bitten me?” I asked. He released my jaw from his hold. 

“That’s not something you need to worry about.” 

“But if it had… let’s say I’m someone else and you bit me, what would happen.” His face twitched. Something flickered behind his eyes as if he was considering it. His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“That’s not… no.” 

“Miguel, it’s a basic question. I barely know anything about you. If you’re planning on keeping me here, then I want to know-” he cut me off.

“And I said no. Damn it, why isn’t that enough for you? What are you wanting from me?” His voice was sharp and cold, like metal. Suddenly, the device on his wrist let out a low chirp. He glanced downward. 

He gave a low sigh. “I’ll get you a plate. You didn’t eat anything last night.” He turned and quickly began to mess with the thing on his wrist. 

I glanced down at the counter. A chorus of beeps came from his wrist as he worked. I gently slid my teeth against my bottom lip; the numbness was strangely fascinating. 

Without a word, Miguel sat the plate down in front of me. Steam drifted off the fresh eggs that covered the plate.

“Thank you.” He didn’t answer me. His eyes lingered on my face for a long moment before he leaned back against the countertop.

He rolled his hand around his wrist, moving his eyes between me and the device. “I have work to do today. But I restocked the fridge so there’s plenty for you to eat. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. The TV in the living room works, as does the stereo. Most of your books should be upstairs, so you should have plenty to occupy your time.”

“Thank you.” I said. I stabbed a bright yellow piece of egg with my fork. “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked. 

“Are you going to miss me?” He paused, waiting for a response. I nodded, partly because I knew it was the right answer and partly because I thought I would, even if just a little bit. He smiled, proud of my answer. “It shouldn’t be too long. Just a couple of things to correct, then I’ll be right back.” There was something about the way that he said the word ‘correct’ that made me wince. He meant kill; I thought of the blood on his face and knew what he meant when he said he fixed things. 

“Is there anything you think you’re going to do today?” Miguel asked. He wanted to know my plans for the day. Well, gee, Miguel, I’ll probably stay trapped here. 

Then something occurred to me. I was the only person here and I knew more of what was going on now. There was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to explore.

“Can I leave the house?” I asked.

“And where would you go?” It seemed ridiculous to him to even ask. Why would I ever want to leave when I could sit in an empty house all by myself and pretend I wasn’t his prisoner?

“Out.” I said. “Maybe walk around the block. Is there another block or does it stop after what I can see from the front stoop?” 

“There’s other blocks. But I don’t understand why you would want to leave the house.” 

“Fucking hell, Miguel.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I turned my attention to the plate. He ground his teeth together for a moment. He was choosing to ignore what I had said. 

“If you need something to occupy your time when I’m gone, I’ll get you a pet.” That doesn’t replace the fact that I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal, even if there was nobody in Nueva York anymore. I could still act as if things hadn’t changed. 

“Ah, a pet for your pet. Doesn’t that seem a bit redundant?” I muttered. That jab had been entirely intentional. 

It was true, though. I was a pet to him; maybe I received different forms of affection than the standard house cat, but the same rules seemed to apply. He would come and go as he needed; I was to stay where I had been placed, always ready and willing to entertain when he came back. 

He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He continued to poke at the device on his wrist. “I’m ignoring you.” I rolled my eyes as I continued to eat. 

“It isn’t fair to lock me inside of a house and never let me leave. You ever heard of cabin fever? I’m going to end up going insane in here.”

“I highly doubt that.” His hair bounced as he spoke. He was shaking his head at me while he messed with his device. 

“Miguel.”

“You’ll be fine.” He said it like it was the end of the discussion. Hell, it wasn’t even a discussion; he just kept saying no. 

“Come on!”

“Is there something you’re wanting to say to me?” His tone was harsh. 

“Yeah, you’re really pissing me off.”

“You’ll get over it. You always do.” 

“Just tell me why. If you think I’m going to run away then where would I even go? There’s nothing out there. So why?” 

“It’s for your own good. Just stay in the damn house.” I rolled my eyes as I took a sip of the cooled coffee. 

“You never fucking tell me anything and then you get pissy when I ask questions.”

“I am not being pissy.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. There was a long moment of silence between us. 

“Don’t call me pissy.” He muttered. He sounded more annoyed than actually angry. He almost sounded like an annoyed child. I had to fight back a laugh at how petulant he sounded.

A weird silence hung in the air. I began to eat, ignoring how he fixed his eyes on me. Though, any time I would look up to catch his stare, he would glance back down and fiddle with his wrist. 

"I really do believe that you could start to like it here. I think you just need time. Then, you'll start to warm up to me."

He brushed his hair off of his forehead and let out a low sigh. "You do love me. You just need time." He said the first part for me. He repeated the second part for himself.

I did love him, at least a little bit. Even if just for the fact that he looked so much like another version of himself; a sweeter version… a softer one. 

Maybe he was capable of being that way. Or, maybe he was too far gone. 

His eyes moved upward to meet mine and I felt a sudden wave of shame wash over me. 

"You look beautiful this morning." He said. 

“Miguel,” I asked. His features softened at the sound of his name. “Is there any chance that I’ll ever get to go home?” 

He winced. “If you go back to your timeline, one of two things could happen. Either time will find a way to correct itself and you will die or everything will collapse in on itself. If that happened, it would kill every single person you’ve ever known and billions more.” A bright light shone from his wrist. 

It was time for him to go. 

He let out a low sigh. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I can’t send you back to die. I won’t.” 

I guess that was my answer.

He stepped toward me. His face had softened. “I want you to be happy and safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I didn’t reply. He moved closer, stopping only once our bodies were almost touching. 

I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He leaned down, placing a finger under my chin. It was the gentlest touch he could manage, yet it was backed with unfathomable strength. He lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Be a good girl for me. Okay?” I nodded. He pushed a quick peck against my lips before he walked off, heading toward the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Once he vanished from sight, I heard him begin to speak into his device.

A pink and orange light enveloped the living room; it was so bright that I winced. The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Then, just like that, he was gone. 

I sighed to myself. Well, no time like the present. 

I pushed myself up, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed upstairs.

He would be gone for hours. There was no harm in exploring, especially since he wasn’t here to stop me. If he didn’t want to tell me anything, then I would have to find it out for myself. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. 

I stared at the yellow door upstairs. Not knowing what was inside was going to eat me alive. I knew it wasn’t an office; Miguel didn’t stay here long enough to do anything but drag me around and then try his idea of a romantic gesture. Maybe it was a storage room, but even then he was entirely too cagey about the whole thing. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person to have some kind of mindless hobby. 

Maybe he was living out the story of Bluebeard and there was something macabre inside. Maybe there was something perverse inside. 

It didn’t matter; I had to know. 

I pushed several of the boxes out of the way. I slid them several feet to the left. I could just move them back when I was done and he would never know. Stepping forward, I reached out and grabbed the door handle. Then, I gave a firm twist. 

It was locked.

Damn it. 

Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He’s the one who locked me up. He’s the one who said I couldn’t leave the house. He’s the one that did all of this in the first place. 

I couldn’t help but notice that the locks on my door and this door were different. This door was aimed at keeping other people out of the space; mine was aimed at locking me inside, like a princess in a tower. 

I needed some way to get the door open. I was sure that I would understand this all a little better if I could just figure out why he was so determined to keep this a secret from me. 

Then, I remembered my Miguel fighting with the floorboard in our bedroom. Before he embarked on his noble mission to defeat the squeaking sound, he had bought a case of beer and a new set of screwdrivers. If this version of him was so determined to make a perfect copy of my house, then he would have added the set.

I dashed to the hall closet and quickly pulled out the black plastic case that rested on the bottom shelf. Bingo! I plucked the screwdriver from the box and then walked over to the yellow door. I knew that with the old style of lock, I just needed to get the metal inside of the keyhole to move. If it moved, then the door would pop open with no issue. 

I slotted the screwdriver into place and then twisted hard. At first, it didn’t even flinch. Then, after a moment,  the lock groaned and then popped open. I quickly twisted the brass door handle and smiled as the door opened. I pushed the door open wide and then flipped the lightswitch. 

What the fuck?

The room was small. Every wall had been painted a soft yellow; it was a step up from the stark white that the original room had been. A small stuffed elephant lay in the middle of a crib that was pushed against the far wall. A framed ultrasound sat on the bookshelf. Little pieces of a life; of hopes and memories, all packed away to be forgotten.

None of this was from my timeline. In my universe, this was just his office. It was where Miguel would disappear to for most of the night after returning from work. After he died, I locked the door and pretended the room didn’t exist. When the men from Alchemax showed up to take the cardboard boxes filled with his work, I didn’t even have the courage to peek inside of the room. The room was the black hole in the house, eating away at any chance of sleep or happiness that I had. 

At least that was something this Miguel and I seemed to share.

I stepped into the small room, moving toward the bookshelf that rested against the far wall. The shelf was the only thing that looked familiar. 

A box rested on the bottom shelf. I quickly dipped down and pulled it free. I flipped the lid and discarded it onto the floor in front of me. The box was filled with small photos. Some were older than others, each faded and weathered to different degrees. I sunk down to the floor. I moved so that I was sitting criss cross. 

I reached inside of the box and pulled out one of the photos. The picture was weathered, but I could still make out a version of me staring up at him with an adoring gaze. She wore a wedding dress and he wore a suit. 

Jesus.

I sat the photo on the floor beside me and then reached into the box and fished out a small handful. I started to sift through them, viewing little pieces of Miguel’s life as I went. When I reached the last three photos, I stopped. They were pictures of Miguel holding a little girl. She was small and perfect, with his eyes and his smile. 

His child. 

I winced as I looked at the pictures. The last photo was of Miguel and I standing behind her. She was sitting in a small plastic highchair with a cake in front of her. On it, there was a glowing candle in the shape of a ‘1’. Miguel’s mouth was open in the process of saying something as I laughed. It was a moment that was frozen, giving him a small slice of time to keep when it all disappeared.

Fucking hell. I leaned forward and put the pictures back in the box. I didn’t want to look at this anymore. I felt my stomach flip as a wave of nausea overtook me.

However, as I leaned over, I spotted several more photos in the bottom of the box. But, I did know these pictures. I just hadn’t known that they had been taken. In two of the pictures, I was inside of the bookstore that I had worked at. They were pictures of me, taken in my universe. But, when did he take them? After my version of him died, I didn’t go back to work. I was lucky if I left bed most days. So these pictures were older than that. 

Suddenly, I became aware of the footfalls that came from the stairs. 

Miguel was home entirely too early. 

And I was still in the nursery. My head was still spinning from the pictures. I tried to make myself get up and frantically put the pictures back, but I couldn’t make my body move.

I heard him begin to make his way toward the bedroom. But, when he saw that the yellow door had been opened, he picked up his pace. 

I didn’t look back at him when he stepped into the doorway.

I didn’t want to meet his gaze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His voice was lined with rage. I stared at the wall. I could hear him swearing under his breath, his tone flickering between pissed to sad and then back again. I glanced back to look at him for a moment. His face was tight and his eyes burned red. 

“This was your office… I’m sorry, his office.” I lifted my hand upward to point at the wall with the small window. The window had been decorated with pink curtains. “His desk was against that wall.” I glanced to the side of the room and then pointed at the left wall. “He kept all of his boxes against the wall. I only ever went inside of the office once and that was when I heard him and my dad arguing about something. But I never… I never found out what it was.” The screaming had happened two days before Miguel died and I couldn’t help but wonder if the two things had been connected. 

“I just wanted to know what was in here. That’s all.” I said. "Are you planning on locking me in my room again?" I asked. 

"No."

The man stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost. His features softened as he watched me. He walked deeper into the room, moving so that he was standing over me. He sat down on the floor beside me. His large frame was only a foot away from me; close enough to touch, but not so close as to scare me. As he sat there, I was once again reminded of how his body had always dwarfed mine. His body was large enough to provide me with either the utmost care or utmost cruelty, depending on which Miguel I got. 

“You had a child?” I asked. 

He winced. “I did.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“No.” It was a sore spot for him. It was then that I noticed that he was focusing on the far wall, unable to meet my eyes. 

I was also a sore spot for him. 

I looked down at the floor as he began to speak again. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said. His face twitched. His eyes began to fade from red to brown. He was reliving all of his failures, past and present. 

“I understand.” I said. He let out a dry laugh. 

“But you don’t. You really fucking don’t. Do you know what it’s like to watch you die in every timeline? Every universe? Either before or after me, there you go. Either you burn to death or are crushed or get killed in a car crash or die in some freak fucking accident… and I’ve had to sit and watch.” 

He shook his head. Several dark strands of hair fell across his face. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done… horrible things.” I flinched at his words. I couldn’t tell if it was self awareness or just simple self hatred. “I just wanted a part of you that was entirely mine. A piece of you that I can love and… keep.”

He said the last part so casually. It was as if it was all just a part of the daily dysfunction of a man with a savior complex and the full power to act upon it. He had everything a man or god could ever want, except for the power of self control. 

What he had done was unfathomably wrong, but the smallest part of me could understand it. The only real difference between us was that he actually could do something about it; when I lost everything, I could only lay in bed and cry. 

However, there wasn’t enough money in any timeline to make me admit that to him. Telling him I understood his actions would only feed into the delusion that this was right… that this was inherently good. 

I nodded slowly as I took in his words. He leaned back against his arms. He pushed his hands against the hardwood as he looked around the room, as if reliving a memory. His face was crestfallen. 

My fingers brushed his. He flinched, but then gave into the touch. I slid my fingers on top of his, pinning his hand between my skin and the cold hardwood. He sat still for a moment, taking in the small crumb of affection. Then, he lifted his pinky, moving it so that it slipped on top of my ring finger. 

He glanced down at our hands. His eyes became fixed on the small ring; he was entranced at the fact that I hadn’t taken it off yet. 

Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. He closed his mouth, allowing for the silence to overwhelm us. 

We were both kind of pathetic. But, I felt especially so at how I still wanted some kind of closeness with him. 

I didn't want to be alone, even if the only option was with the crazy man. 

I glanced up. My eyes met his.

I leaned forward, moving so that my face was only inches away from his. The room was cold and I was sure that he could see the hard goosebumps that had formed on my skin. His eyes danced over my face before drifting down to my lips. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but it was as if it was stuck. Whatever words he wanted to say wouldn't come out. 

I filled the last inches of space between us. Slowly, I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moulded together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He let out a low groan.

He pulled his lips away from me, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

He lay his forehead against mine. Then he whispered something that was so faint, I couldn’t hear most of it. But, I could have sworn that the last words were a soft "I’m sorry."

The next few weeks, we existed as ghosts. He barely spoke to me. On the rare occasion that he was home during the daytime, I would often catch him staring at me with a weird mixture of adoration and sadness. He was gone until late most nights. I had taken to crawling onto the couch and falling asleep there most nights. The house was too empty; too quiet. He wouldn’t come back until late and would then, without fail, haul me back to the bedroom. I would awaken every morning to a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He would squeeze my shoulder gently, though he was always gone by the time I opened my eyes. 

My head lay against one of the pillows that I had dragged downstairs from the bed. I sighed as I turned over. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird to try and sleep when there was no noise coming from outside. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city lulling me to sleep. Now, I would toss and turn for hours until I would turn on the TV for some noise. 

I pulled one of the blankets higher up on my body. The house was freezing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall. 

Just after two.

Where was he? He usually came back around one or so. He was late. Time was ticking on and he was nowhere to be found. 

Damn it. I winced, realizing that I was actually worried about him. 

Suddenly, a bright light filled the first floor. I jerked upright, turning toward the kitchen. “Miguel?” I asked. I quickly pushed myself up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

"Miguel?" I repeated. I flipped on the light to the kitchen and saw him standing there. He was doubled over with one hand grasping the back of a chair. Blood dripped from his nose onto the faded tile below. 

"You need to go to bed." His voice was rough. I stepped deeper into the room, ignoring him. He let out a groan as he tried to pull on the back of his suit. He reached for something, but he couldn't grasp it. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. I stopped several feet in front of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood covered his bottom lip. His face was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. It was a gash that was slowly oozing dark blood. 

"Oh my God. Miguel!" I rushed forward, filling the distance. 

"It's not as bad as it looks. They’ll heal, they just need a bit of time.” He said. Blood ran down his jaw as he spoke. He looked bad; bad enough that, if he had been the other version of himself, we would have immediately been on the way to the hospital. 

There were several gashes that had managed to cut through his suit, exposing the skin beneath. 

Dear God, what the hell happened to him?

"Go away." He said. He waved his hand, motioning for me to do as I had been told. He leaned over the side of the counter. Bruises were blossoming on his tan skin, painting him in shades of blue and black. 

"Just let me help you. Are there any bandages in the house?" I asked.

"I don't need help."

"Miguel." 

"What?" His voice was harsh; his words lined with actual pain. 

"Stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you." I said. I walked over the lower cabinet and pulled out a hand towel. I stepped back toward him, hoping that he would soften.

Instead, he scowled at me. "Go to bed. You're just working yourself up over nothing."  

"This isn't nothing." 

He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm completely fine." His leg went out from under him. I tried to catch and steady him, but instead, we both tumbled to the ground below. 

I watched as several of the more superficial cuts on his body began to close. 

"Jesus, Miguel. What happened?" He shook his head as he pushed himself off of the floor. 

"It's nothing. That's why I didn't want you to see any of this." He paused. "What the hell are you even doing down here?" He grabbed onto the counter to steady himself. Part of me expected to see him break the counter under his fingers. 

I pushed myself off of the floor and rushed to his side. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"I'm going to clean up. Go to bed." He winced as he stepped away from the counter. Based on the way he winced as he touched his side, he probably had a cracked rib.

I couldn't imagine anything that was strong enough to do this to him. Unless it had been something, or several somethings, that were all exactly like him. 

"I'm going to help you." I said. I eyed one of the deeper bruises that covered the side of his jaw. He caught me staring at the dark mark. 

"They'll heal, I swear. I can heal relatively fast." He said. Fear tore through me. What if he was wrong? What if he was lying? He hadn't meant for me to see him coming home. He had fully intended on keeping this hidden from me, regardless of how badly he was hurt. "The worst ones are the cuts but even those will be fine in an hour or two."

I had already lost him once…

He glanced over at me. Fear swirled in my eyes as I watched him. Based on the way that his face twitched, I knew he could see it. 

He glanced down at the floor. Then, he leaned to the side and caught my arm in his gloved hand. His touch was gentle, but commanding.

"Come here." He instructed. I shifted toward him, moving until his chest was almost touching mine. I could hear his steady heartbeat and feel the warmth that was pouring off his skin. 

"I love you. I promise I'm okay." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"Just let me help you." I said. He sighed to himself, giving in to my attempt at kindness.

The downstairs bathroom was quiet. Miguel was perched on the edge of the tub, watching as I leaned over the edge of the basin.

I turned the metal handles to the tub. Warm water spurted into the bottom of the tub. I watched as it began to pool at the bottom. Outside, I could hear the thunder boom. Rain beat against the roof of the house, filling it with the soft sound of water hitting 

"This isn't necessary. You should go back to sleep." He said. He pressed the towel to his face. Most of the blood had stopped flowing. 

"I wasn't asleep." 

"Why not?"

"The house is creepy at night. It's too quiet. I'm used to actual sounds from the city and there just aren't any here."

"I'm sorry." 

"It's fine." 

Soon, the tub was filled three quarters of the way. I leaned over and quickly turned off the flow of water. I straightened my stance and then looked back at Miguel. He offered a soft smile. A bruise blossomed just below his eye, though it immediately began to fade away. 

"I was really worried about you." I admitted.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?" I didn't believe him. He looked rough. It was as if he had been dragged through hell. It hurt to look at him too long. 

"This is all… purely superficial. I'll be better soon." I crossed my arms. Worry and fear covered my face; it was impossible to hide. 

"Sweetheart, there's nothing to worry about." His voice was like warm honey. He lifted his hand upward and motioned for me to come to him. Without question, I did. 

One arm gently curled around my waist. The other drifted upward to ghost the side of my face.

"I'm okay. This all just…" he sighed. He leaned his face forward and gently touched his forehead to my stomach. Warm skin pressed into my shirt. I could feel him slowly inhale as he breathed me in. Then, he lifted his face, peering up at me in the dim room. "This is just how it is." His voice was no more than a whisper. 

"You look tired." He said. He noticed the dark circles under my eyes.

"You're one to talk." He let out a humorless laugh.

His fingers slid across my cheek, wiping away a dark droplet that had landed on my skin. The material on his fingers was smoother than I had imagined. 

"You don't have to take care of me."

"Well, you don't seem to have any sense of self preservation. So if I don't, I don't figure you'll take care of yourself." I said. He looked at my face for a long moment. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

"No, that's not it. I think you care about me." Pride bubbled in his voice. I rolled my eyes. 

"Strip and get in the tub."

"Yes, Ma'am." He taunted. He winced as he reached backward again, tugging at the neck of the suit. His usual gracefulness was gone. He groaned, pulling at the back of the suit to no avail. 

"Are you okay?" I asked. He winced again as he tried to grab onto something that wasn't there. 

"I got hit earlier and I think the thing broke. I can't get it to move." His fingers worked over the material but it was no use.

"Here. Let me get it." I said. He stooped downward, moving so that I could actually grab onto the back of the material. He awkwardly leaned over as I pulled at the metal on the back of the suit. It looked like there had once been a zipper, but the tiny handle had been busted. Below it were several small clasps that had been bent down to cover the path of the zipper. 

"They really did a number on you." I murmured. I pushed my thumb under one of the clasps. I bent it forward, moving it so that I could see the path of the zipper. I did the same for the other pieces of metal that had become deformed. Then, I pinched what remained of the head of the zipper. I pulled the zipper downward, hearing him sigh softly when I unzipped the material between his shoulder blades. His skin spread out between my fingers, warm and slightly wet from sweat.

"There you go." I said. I released him and stepped backward. He should be good to go now. 

I watched as he effortlessly peeled the suit off of his bruised body. The bruises were changing in color, some getting darker as others began to fade before my eyes. 

He pulled the suit off of his arms, then down his muscular torso. As he reached his hips, I looked away, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the skin tight material. 

My face turned bright red. I looked at the door behind us, waiting for him to climb into the water. "You're blushing." 

"No, I'm… just get in the water." I heard him chuckle as he stepped out of the material. He crudely folded the material and then tossed it across the floor. It landed in a pile beside my left foot. I rolled my eyes. 

"Sweetheart, you don't have to look away from me." He said. I heard the water move as he stepped into the tub. I turned around, watching as he sank into the bath. 

I watched a dark bruise on his bare collarbone fade into his skin before disappearing. It was as if it had never been there to begin with. 

He was always full of surprises.

Miguel leaned back against the cold metal of the tub. Outside, lightning shot across the sky. It filled the room with a sudden white light. 

“I’ll clean up the floor in a little bit.” He said. The tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were stained and slick. In the dim light, the droplets on the floor looked almost black.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go to bed after this.” I said. “And you’re actually going to sleep.” 

"That's what you think." He muttered. 

"Are you always this stubborn?” I asked. 

"Only for you, sweetheart." 

I grabbed a towel off of the counter and gently dabbed it against his cheek. His eyes focused hard on my face as I tried to tend to his fading wounds. He was attempting to read my features. I sat down beside the bathtub.

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked. It wasn’t a playful or light question. He could hear the weight in my voice as I cleaned his face. 

“You wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you.” It was such an honest comment that I could tell it pained him. If I knew what he did when he was away, then any chance of me loving him would vanish.

Maybe it was best that I didn’t know. 

"Are you in any pain?" I asked. He shook his head. 

Steam from the tub drifted upward, clinging to his strong chest in thick beads.  

"Why have you been ignoring me for the last week?" I asked. His face tensed.

"I haven't been."

I scoffed lightly as I gently wiped his face with a towel. "And you said I was bad at acting." 

"I've had a lot on my mind." He said. I nodded slowly. 

"You can talk to me." I said. He offered a faint smile. He couldn't, because it was most likely about me. 

"Are you mad at me?" I asked. He shook his head. 

"No, I promise." I looked down at the tile floor. I didn't know what to say to him. Something weird hung in the space between us.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the cold air. 

"Get in with me." He said. 

"What? No." I said. He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to refuse. 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Because you're wounded and I don't want to hurt you."

He let out a low laugh, almost as if he was mocking me. "Believe me, it's impossible for you to hurt me. Now be a good girl and get in the tub."

"You know I'm not your pet, right?" He smirked at my words. A pet was exactly what he considered me to be; maybe a darling pet that he seemed to have a steadfast devotion to, but a pet nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and began to stand up from where I had been perched. 

"Come on, sweetheart. Just get in with me. Please?" His voice was warm, much like his eyes. I sighed as I watched him. 

A nagging voice told me to just walk off. Just go to bed and ignore him. He was clearly fine. Everything that he said would happen, had actually happened. He was healing up perfectly fine. He didn't need to be babied; he was a kidnapper, not a stray cat that needed to be brought in from the rain. But still, I couldn't make myself leave the small bathroom. 

"Please?" He repeated. I groaned before I stepped back from the tub. I grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt and pulled it upward. I hauled it over my head and then discarded it onto the floor. My pajama bottoms and underwear followed close behind.

Stepping forward, I felt the cold air bite into my skin. I winced before casting a leg over the edge of the tub. I had picked the opposite side of the tub to where he was sitting, though something told me he had wanted me to climb on top of him. 

I sank into the water across from him. I lifted my hands to my chest and quickly crossed my arms in an attempt at maintaining some sense of modesty. Miguel's eyes traced over me, drinking me in. His gaze was so intense that it made me squirm. 

"Stop staring at me." I said. 

"You're beautiful." His voice was low and warm. I readjusted my arms to make sure I was covered. I wracked my brain, searching for something to say.

"So, what's the thing about this timeline?" I said.

"What do you mean 'thing'?" He asked. 

"What makes it different from my timeline? I mean, there's absolutely no way that everything is the same. And, even with all of the people gone, there's got to be something weird here."

"Firstly, ouch. Bold of you to assume that my work isn't perfect." He lifted his index finger as he playfully chided me. 

"What's the second thing?" I asked. 

"Secondly, aren't we enough of a 'thing'?" We were both here. That was weird, as far as timelines went. We were both alive and okay, regardless of how we had ended up here.

"Come on. Surely there's something weird here. Maybe they call tuna by some other weird name or maybe the movie Titanic doesn't exist here."

"Well, you're the only person here, so you can call tuna whatever you want. I may mock you if you choose something ridiculous, but that's entirely your choice. Also, I don't think that any movies have ever come out here." 

I watched his face as he spoke.

Goosebumps danced across my skin as I sat in the water. "I think I'm about to get out. The house is too cold to be in here." I said. 

He leaned forward and reached out his arms. In one smooth movement, he hauled me upward and he pulled me into his lap, making sure that my back was pressing into his chest. He leaned backwards, lifted his right thigh upward, and promptly placed me there. His other leg spread outward. His warm skin pressed into my back. I could feel the hard outline of muscles as I sat there. I squirmed.

"This isn't fair." I murmured. 

"Sure it is." 

"How do you figure?"

"I dragged you over here, fair and square." He smirked. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at the window. Rain beat down against the empty city. Clouds drifted across the sky, leaving several patches visible. 

"The stars are different here." I said. 

"Hmm?"

"The stars." I lifted my hand upward. I pointed toward the window to show him what I meant. "Pegasus is supposed to be right there. It's gone. The only one there is Andromeda."

Andromeda. The chained woman. 

The irony was not lost upon me. 

My ring was my chain; Miguel my warden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the ring off or to truly push him away.

He pressed another kiss against my back. This time, I could feel the stubble of his jaw scrape against my skin. 

"You're warm." I murmured. He smiled against my skin. 

"I'm glad." He gently sucked on the soft piece of skin. I gasped, feeling his fangs graze for a moment. Though, by the time the sound had left my lips, he had already pulled back. 

"Sorry." He said. He inspected his handiwork on my flesh, making sure that he had not broken the skin.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching him as he slid his fingers along the skin of my back. He was enjoying getting to touch me. He could still see the novelty in how new it was.

When he shifted under me, I felt the hard shape of his erection brush the back of my thigh.

Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder again. I leaned backward, moving until my back touched his chest. I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and soft. 

"What?" He asked. Without a word, I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, moving slowly and carefully. As he did, I felt a familiar want beginning to stir inside of me. Slowly, I pulled away from him. I then tried to move off of his leg and was mildly surprised when he didn't try to hold me down. Instead, I lifted my hips upward and began to rearrange myself in the water, moving so that one leg sat on either side of his hips. 

I slid my legs around his waist and then pushed myself closer to him. The bottom of the cast iron tub was slick beneath us. It was hard to arrange myself in the water, but somehow I managed. Miguel leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. As he did, I lifted my hands upward and grabbed his shoulders for leverage.

“Careful, careful.” Miguel said. He placed a hand on the curve of my back to make sure that I didn’t slip in the water. 

“Aww, so you can be nice.” 

I smiled as I slid my hands across his strong shoulders. I could feel all of the muscles flex under my fingertips. A soft smirk painted his lips. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't fair for one person to look this perfect.

But, looking at him, he looked like he was bone tired.

He leaned in for another kiss, but I bobbed backward. He already looked clean enough; I wanted to tell him to get out of the water and go to bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked hard at my face, searching for something in my features. But, before I could speak, he followed it up with another question. "Are you scared of me?" He asked. 

"What?" It caught me off guard.

"You heard me. Are you?" 

A little bit. 

"I don't think you would hurt me." I said. It wasn’t a lie.

“I would never hurt you.” His hands drifted to my face. Gently, his traced his fingers along the curve of my jaw, taking in every feature. “But, are you scared of me?” 

I knew exactly what he was referring to. The eyes, the fangs, even the sheer size of him was intimidating. But, under all of that, he was still just Miguel. Even if he wasn’t my version of him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. 

“No.” I said. He offered a faint smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me, but he seemed grateful that I would be willing to tell him what he wanted. 

“I love you.” He said. 

“I love you, too.” He smiled at my words. I knew that it would make him happy to hear them. They were only three little words, yet they seemed to mean everything to him. 

As I watched his face, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"You look tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You haven’t slept any of the other nights, either. I woke up to go to the bathroom around four and you were still awake. " I said. 

“Yes, I did sleep.”

“I saw you… Please just be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No, you never are.” He rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Why don’t you ever sleep?” I asked. Rain continued its assault on the roof, growing louder as the storm reached its peak.

“I usually can’t.” Thunder rolled so loud that I looked toward the window. 

“Bad dreams.” A dark tendril of hair fell across his forehead. I reached forward and gently brushed it out of the way. 

“About what?”

He shook his head before he pressed another kiss against my lips. That was his way of changing the conversation. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. His hand snaked between our naked bodies. Without hesitation, he grazed my clit with the pad of one of his fingers.

I gasped at the sudden touch. But, I didn’t move away. His index finger swirled over the bundle of nerves, forcing my toes to curl. I inched my body closer to him, begging for him not to stop. 

He rubbed faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to finishing. Miguel watched me with a burning intensity; his eyes were dark lust as he worked. I ground my hips against his fingers, feeling the pleasure beginning to grow in my lower stomach.

Suddenly, it overtook me. I gasped and almost fell forward from how suddenly a blinding warmth shot through me. Each touch was too much; it felt like I was on fire. Miguel caught me before I could tumble off of his body. He held me as I twitched on top of him, spasming from his gentle touches.

As I began to drift back down from the orgasm, I could feel his cock as it lay against his stomach. He was painfully hard. Every time I would bob a little too far forward in the water, I would brush into it, feeling just how desperate he was. 

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” I whispered.

“You don’t want to stay in here with me, sweetheart?” His voice was velvety and sweet; his little nickname for me was lined with lust.

“No, because I’m not on birth control. You’re going to end up knocking me up.” I said it partially as a joke. 

He didn’t laugh.

Oh.

“Miguel.”

“We have children in every universe.” He said it so softly and calmly that it was as if he was saying the sun was yellow and the sky was blue. It simply was the way of the universe; it was how things were and always would be. 

“We didn’t in mine.” I said.

“Because he died. Besides, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.” My face turned bright red. There was something in the way that he said the last part that raised a suspicion I hadn't had before.

“Were you ever watching?” I asked. 

“Not from outside of the window or anything like that, but I did catch… glimpses in your timeline.”

“Miguel!”

“I was working!” He defended himself. “I never watched went out of my way to watch you two when you were… intimate. The only times that I ever spied on you were when you were alone.”

“What do you mean when I was alone?” I remembered the photos of me that I had found in the box. 

“When he was at work and I thought something would happen to you; when I was worried about you.”

He was telling the truth, at least as far as I could tell. 

“Why didn’t you ever spy on him and I?” I asked. I expected him to say that he respected me too much to do that. Then again, he treated me like a pet, so it was rather questionable how much he respected me.

“Jealousy, mostly.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time, sweetheart. He had you and he was always working; he was always gone.” He said.

“You’re always gone, too.” He frowned at the statement. 

Maybe all of the versions of him truly were the same. Based on how he winced, he seemed to be considering that fact.

“He couldn’t protect you because he was never there.” He said.

“Nothing happened to me. There was nothing to protect me from.” 

“But there could have been.” He was obsessed with the idea that I was fragile. Which, I mean, compared to him, I was. But he still didn’t have to be this worried. 

He was haunted by the idea of me dying and obsessed with the idea of saving me. Maybe it was to make up for his past failures.

“I’ve lost you in countless timelines. I could never risk it.” He winced. “But, you’re here now and you’re safe. You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours.” He said. We belonged to each other, whenever or wherever we were. The notion both charmed and chilled me. But, one of those feelings quickly won over the other. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the previous orgasm.

“Do you want me?” I asked. I was hoping to sound sexy; I just sounded pathetic. 

“More than anything.” 

I leaned forward and gently grabbed his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips  upward so that I could have better access. I slid my hand up and down several times before I moved my body closer to him. As I moved, he held onto me, making sure that I didn’t slip in the tub. I carefully lined him up with my entrance, feeling another wave of want wash through me. I curled one arm around his shoulder. 

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded quickly as I clung to him.

I whimpered when he slid inside. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned as he sunk all the way in. I felt my body stretch, trying to accommodate him. 

After a moment, I pushed my legs into the tub and lifted myself upward. He curled one arm around my waist, watching me in wonder and awe as I slid down again, making us both groan. 

I lifted one hand off of his shoulder. His body had been through enough tonight. I didn't want to risk the one-in-a-million chance that I grabbed onto a sore spot. I gripped the cold edge of the tub to balance myself. But, just as suddenly as I had placed it there, it was pulled off. Miguel pulled my hand into his, lacing our fingers together. 

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I smiled, giving into his mouth. The kiss was brief; it was broken when I gasped against him mouth, feeling a warm pleasure begin to grow inside of me.

I bounced my hips, feeling him hit deep with every movement. I moaned. My stomach was beginning to tighten. 

He tightened his hold on my hand. One of his fingers brushed over the ring that I was still wearing.

I was his. I belonged to him. 

As if he could read my mind, he pressed his lips against mine again. 

When he pulled away, he said "Open your eyes."

I did as told. My eyes met his as I slid downward on his cock. Then, before my body could meet his, he thrusted upward, making me gasp.

"Keep looking at me." He said. I nodded as I lifted my hips upward. He groaned, quickly burying himself deep inside of me. He wanted to watch the way my face twitched with pleasure when he fucked me. He wanted to see what he did to me; what power he had over me.

I tightened my hold on his hand. If he was a normal man, I was sure I would have accidentally broken one of his fingers from how hard I was gripping him. 

I lifted my hips, then brought them down on him just as he slammed inside of me. We did it over and over again, forcing out gasps and moans from each other. 

“Miguel, I’m close! Don’t stop!” I moaned. I was so damn close. I could feel the tightening in my lower stomach every time he sheathed himself inside of me.

Then, all at once, I felt a wave of heat wash over me.

I gasped, clenching around him as I came undone. Pleasure coursed through my body, making my toes curl and my head fall back. Miguel pressed a kiss to the base of my throat as he hammered inside of me, not stopping his pace.

After a moment, he let out a low groan. He moaned my name and I was suddenly very aware of the warm fluid that filled me. It was leaking down my upper thighs and into the water around us.

The pleasure began to fade away. I gasped, trying to catch the breath that I had been holding. Miguel smiled and leaned back against the tub, his body tired and spent. A mixture of sweat and water glistened against his skin. 

It was around three in the morning. I could feel the exhaustion beginning to sink into my bones.

I moved to climb off of him, but just as he had last time, he held me in place. One hand held my hips in place, pinning me on top of him. I sighed, giving up any notion of fighting. It was useless; his grip was ironclad.

"Let me hold you... just for a little while." His voice was soft. His other hand drifted to the curve of my back. He pulled me forward, moving me until my chest lay against his. 

"I'm tired." I murmured. 

"I know, sweetheart."

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear his heart in my ear. Its strumming was low and steady. His skin was warm. "I missed you." he said. 

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me directly, or some distant memory of me. But I would take what I could get. 

"I missed you, too." 

He pressed a gentle kiss against my damp hair. Outside, lightning cut across the sky. 

@levisbebe @amplsblog​ @spider-biter​ @taleiak​ @ladyfairenvale​ (I tried to tag everyone who asked! I’m sorry if I missed you!)

[volturiprincess]

From the other side

Demetri Volturi x F newborn vampire

Warnings: Foul language, death, mentions of a Emetophobia, I bash on the Cullens here A/N: This was a request by @kpopgirlbtssvt, I got to say I enjoyed working on this. Its been a while since I worked on an actual long one-shot request but I hope the wait was worth it, and I might of changed some ideas on the request slightly (but still stayed on topic). Enjoy💙 Word Count: 4k+ (wow)

_____________________________

(He's just so gorgeous🥰)

“I think she’s waking up”

“How do you know?”

“Well you can see her eyeball moving Emmett, I'm no doctor but I think that is a sign she is waking up”

“Oh well sorry Mister Smartypants, didn't know I was in the presences of an expert”

“Focus, should we fetch Carlisle? He said he would be back soon but what if he’s already here?”

“I'll check, you stay here incase she starts moving around, wouldn't want her newborn instincts to kill Nessie”

“Fairpoint”

Why do I feel so strange? Where the hell am I? Maybe I should wake up, maybe the one with the southern accent could give me answers. I force myself to wake up and when I do everything seems so different. Everything seems so focused, enhanced, so…perfect. When has my vision ever been this good? I know I've been neglecting my glasses quite often but even with my glasses on I never had such good eyesight, I always thought I never needed them. I sit up slowly to check my surroundings. Crap! Where am I? What even happened to me? 

Flashback….

Just left my final class of the day, Anatomy is such a pain in the ass really. Why did I decide to take both Anatomy 1 and Genetics in the same semester? But I mean it's worth it, get the harder classes out of the way and then I can maybe squeeze in other classes I am interested in before graduating. I clinged my heavy textbooks to my chest tighter as I tiredly made my way to my small apartment. I got lucky that this place was cheap compared to living on campus, and the bonus to it is that my place is about 5 minutes away from campus. I heard the school bell ring signaling some class has ended, instantly I'm surrounded by a swarm of students like me. All of them either off to  their next class, or home, or even getting a late lunch. I was slightly pushed around until I managed to find an opening but not everything can go to plan. As I was trying to get to the opening someone shoved me a bit too hard and the books I was clutching flew out of my arms, I went along with them.

I heard a simple “My bad” and then I was met with silence. I hurriedly picked up my stuff and saw how people just looked but didn't help or offer a hand. Situations like this makes me want to just disappear. Just be able to get to point A to B without any mishaps. I composed myself mentally and continued my walk to my apartment. Considering it's only 5, it's already pitch black. I don't like walking alone at night, sure I’m a night owl, but I like to be alone in a safe space. As I'm walking I felt that weird feeling of being watched, it's like a sixth sense to me at this point, please tell me it's just my paranoia and not real. I do a quick scan and I'm met with no one but silence that makes an exception to the far off train horn. I hurried off trying to shake off that paranoia until I bumped into what I thought was a wall (ended up being a ‘human’)and then I was met with darkness.

Present…

I felt my eyes fill with tears but I soon noticed they would not fall, I tried blinking but nothing happened. I went to wipe my eyes with my hand instead but felt my hand move abnormally faster. Okay what the heck? I know I sometimes have my days where my reflexes kick in or not but I have never been able to move that fast. And as if on cue my throat felt so dry, I felt like I could drain the pacific and yet that would not be enough to satisfy the level of thirst I have. I tried swallowing but noticed that it didn't even help or even do anything.

“Carlisle should be here soon with something to subdue the thirst”

My gaze snaps to the man who is casually keeping guard at the door. The way he stood made me think he was maybe in the military or something. Why is he beautiful? His blonde locks styled perfectly and his eyes… Are they gold? I have never seen that type of eye color on someone before, I mean I have read a book where one of the characters had pirate gold eyes but in person that’s strange.

“Wh-wha- where am I?”

The way his gaze slowly met mine gave me the creeps, it was like from a scene of a horror movie, where if you spot something from a distance and then you blink, they are right in front of you, killing you.

“Carlisle will answer your questions”

“Why can't you?”

“I'm not in a position to be telling you stuff, all I'm here is to keep you calm since you are a newborn”

“A newborn?”

And then I was met with silence, he turned away from me so he was back to facing the wall like he was previously. 

“Could I at least get your name?”

“Jasper Whitlock, ma’am”

What feels like ages, another man walks in with a big guy. The first one seems like he is the one in charge around here, he seemed nice. He had a calm presence within, but the other guy seemed like he was ready to pick up a fight, probably the muscles around here. Now that I'm thinking about it more, am I in some sort of mafia? But these guys don't seem all that scary, maybe the big one and the Jasper guy. The calm one got closer to me and offered me a cup.

“Here drink this, it should help with the thirst”

I crabbed the cup hesitantly, hoping it wouldn't kill me, and drank it desperately. Finishing it in milliseconds, I did feel a small relief but I still had that feeling of an intense thirst. 

“We will give you more later but I think you deserve an explanation”

“You think”

He smiled gently but nodded “Well to start of you are not human anymore, you might of picked that up slightly since you have woken up”

Not human anymore? But what could I possibly be then? What have they done to me? Am I a monster now?

“You are now a newborn, a vampire to be exact”

That right there was the biggest mick drop of my life. What does he mean i'm a-a vampire? Those exist? I thought they were just myths, that they are just some made up thing that people build up over the years. But now I'm somehow one now? This shit can't be real, he probably has me on some drugs on something. Yeah that's right, probably drugged me and I'm trapped in some dream or something.

“I can see your in denial, there’s really no way to really explain it but you really are a vampire, that cup you drank from was filled with blood, deer blood to be exact”

Oh heck no. I drank blood? I never had a problem with blood, I mean I have a major in the medical field for a reason. Just can't get over vomiting, that's just a big phobia of mine, someone throws up and I'm literally about to faint. But enough of that.

“You gotta be joking here, vampires do not exist, there just myths”

“Well with all honesty here, I assure you I'm not joking, not with the times we are facing now”

“And what is that?”

“Well my family and I are in a bit of a dilemma, you see we have engaged another coven of vampires, and they are threatening to kill our family over a misunderstanding”

“Pardon my language, but what the fuck? What do you mean ‘another coven of vampires’ and a supposed death threat, there's more of you guys out there?”

The big guy chuckled slightly at my foul language and I heard him mumble a “Oh I like her, she’s way more funny than Bella”

“Yes well you see, our kind if basically spread out around the world, this other coven of vampires are living in Italy, but this coven is basically like our government, royalty you can say even, there more dangerous than us, they feed on human blood and they have gifts that can wipe out humanity in an instant”

Ok this other coven sounds scary, wipe out humanity? What the hell did this guy and his family do to anger them anyways, must be pretty serious.

“So let me guess this straight, you and your family have angered this powerful coven of vampires who can in your words wipe out humanity and…are doing what now?”

“Well we been gathering witness to help us avoid a fight with this coven”

“I see but what exactly did you do to anger this coven of powerful vampires then?”

“My son and his new wife had a baby”

“A baby? I'm sorry I don't see a problem here”

“Vampires cannot recreate, that's what I thought until my then human daughter-in-law got pregnant”

“Ok? Still not seeing a problem here”

“I guess an easier way to explain is as I said vampires cannot recreate, we are biologically not able to do such thing between two vampires, but between a vampire male and female human, it's possible but the problem here is the Volturi believe we have created an immortal child, which we didn't”

“I see so then why do they believe you created an immortal child? And also what is an immortal child?”

“An immortal child is a child what was turned into a vampire, there stuck as a child for eternity and cannot control their thirst or be calmed or even age, they are in modern terminology are illegal, and to answer the other question, apparently hybrids are not common and they did not know about them existing”

 The more he answers my questions, the more I think I am definitely dreaming, no way in hell is all of this real. Why am I even being roped into this? I was just some human who was just trying to be a Physician and now that dream is out the window because I'm apparently a vampire now. I need to wake up, this cannot be my life right now, I have so much to live for still. Sure I was quiet and not in some relationship but I still liked the life I had. 

“Now the real question here is, why or how am I even part of this?”

They were all quiet instantly and none of them were making eye contact with me. Ok weird… I mean even the big guys amused look was gone and that guy answering my questions with a small smile was also gone. Something here does not feel right. Someone burst into the room, which freaked me out a bit because this guy along with his buddy looked intimidating with all their leather and the intense red eyes. I felt a weird current roll down my body and then I heard gasps. The Jasper dude looked at me with wide eyes, well everyone was looking at me with the same wide eyes. 

“She’s gone!”

“No I don't think so Emmett, she’s gifted”

“What are the odds of finding one that is gifted”

“Not very likely”

Why are they all talking about me as if I wasn't there?

“Um i'm right here”

The ‘nice’ one spoke up first “Well it seems you have a gift miss, your invisible currently”

“Seriously?” I looked down and as he said I am indeed invisible. Maybe that weird current I felt earlier was me triggering this. Should I tell him this?

“How were you able to do that?”

“I don't know, I um felt a weird feeling run through me after those two over there came in”

“Vladimir and Stefan triggered it? Hmm it seems it came from fear then, interesting”

So those are their names, I wonder who is who. My wild guess is the platinum blonde is Vladimir and the dark haired one is Stefan. 

As if he knew I was talking about him, the platinum started to speak “So you were desperate enough for witnesses that you created a newborn? That’s low even for you Carlisle. At least she’s gifted but even then she probably has no combat skills so she won't be able to tear heads off if the time comes”

Ok y/n, let's think about becoming visible, I don't like how they're just staring at me like that, and also speaking smack about me either. Smoke started to surround me for a minute and when I looked at my hands to see I was now visible. Again I heard the gasp. 

“How did you do that?”

“I was just thinking about wanting to be visible”

“Well that’s good to know how your gift works”

“I guess”

Carlisle, it took him like thirty minutes to tell me his name, started to explain the situation more and even introduced me to the other members of his family. Jasper along with his friend taught me some basic combat skills in case a fight broke out with the confrontation. But the weird thing I discovered was when I met the infamous son, Edward, I was able to read his mind when he was reading mine, he gave me a funky look each time and tried to reduce his thoughts as much as he could. 

Funny enough but also traumatizing, he was always thinking about his honeymoon with his wife. I do not need to know how his child was conceived. When I met Alice a similar thing happened, she spaced out (which I found out she does when she has a vision) and I saw me with another figure, a man to be exact. The man in the vision was gorgeous, I never knew such a person could exist, he looked like a greek god. I think I might have another gift but I'm not sure I should tell Carlisle, there's just something off about why he won't tell me about how I became a vampire or what happened to me that night. 

—-------------------------------

Today is the day of the confrontation. Just last night I found out about vampires and now I might face death himself. And just today I found out werewolves or shifters exist, is everything in the books true then? I can feel my chest curl into itself and I feel myself internally hyperventilating. Can vampires do that? Well if they can that is exactly what is happening to me. I was placed between Vladimir and Stefan because apparently I should blend in and be more in the background then in front with the others. The Cullens think if the Volturi find out about me they might face a punishment of some sort.

But these two vampires are freaking me out slightly, they had an eye on me constantly, as if I were some criminal or something. With the confrontation I am fighting the urge to just disappear, I don't want part in this. It's not like I could be of help anyways, I can't really turn invisible on command, it just happens and turning visible doesn't always work when I want it to. The other gift I have, I still have no idea how it works or what it is exactly. 

Everyone is standing on guard waiting for the Volturi to arrive. I think the longer we wait the longer I feel my anxiety rise. I saw Vladimir move slightly, I followed his gaze to see a whole army of cloaked figures, they all moved in sync and let a smaller group move forward, those are definitely the kings with their guards. When they all stopped walking, they removed their cloaks and my eyes widened in shock. Why are they all really good looking? The big guy looks even more scary than Emmett, he’s basically towering over everyone. The other two I see are what I can assume are twins, they look alike except for the girl having blonde hair and the guy having brown hair. I heard the others say they are the most dangerous ones. I look at the kings, the only one who looks like he would kill everyone is the blonde one, he seems like the anger issues type of guy- err vampire. 

It seems I forgot to analyze another guard, he was slightly out of my view but how can anyone ignore his presence. I think this was the guy from Alice vision, in person he's more gorgeous. His lovely blonde hair styled to look like spikes, how his face is so symmetrical, he was indeed handcrafted by the gods.

I saw his gaze shift to meet mine, and oh dear gosh, a strong feeling overcame me. I don't even know what this feeling is, it's like an invisible string is trying to pull me toward him. I want to give in but I'm scared of what this is and I'm also scared that I might die right here. His focus was on me the whole time as the others spoke, there was even a point where he turned to the bored looking vampire to ask something which concluded with a nod from him. 

I don't even know what to center my fear right now, the fear from what is happening or the fear of this strange feeling I have with the breathtaking vampire. My attention on him was paused as I saw the blonde twin try to do something but that Bella girl used her shield, the blonde girl even looked at me but something odd happened. She clutched herself as if she was in agonizing pain and fell to her knees, my eyes widened slightly as her twin brother was at her side trying to somewhat resolve her pain.

Even the other Volturi members were shocked, the same twin boy turned his gaze to us and the anger that reflected his eyes was the most terrifying thing to witness. Out of his pure instincts he released a black smoke that also came out of my hands. I started to panic and the witnesses around me were also panicking, a bunch of them hissed for me to stop but I didn't know how or what was even happening.

A loud stop from the Volturi's side made everything go back to normal, the smoke was gone, the girl who was in pain stopped clutching herself and the boy's face was back to its resting form. Even the smoke I somehow had coming out of my hands had vanished. The king in the middle was the one who shouted stop from what I can tell.

“And who is this? She seems to have a very similar ability to one of my guards”

Carlisle who still had a confused looked form the earlier actions done by me “She’s part of Vladimir’s and Stefan’s coven”

The way the two vampires looked at Carlisle at the mention of their name would have left him buried six feet under. I could tell whatever plan the doctor had in mind was not planned. I mean even I was not aware of the plan to start off with, I was just told to stay quiet in the back and not turn invisible until they commanded me to. Vladimir not wanting to be thrown under the bridge or face any death just like me didn't let his voice be unheard 

“Still low of you Carlisle, he’s lying to you”

The look on the vampire king's face can be best described as if someone stabbed him in the back.

“Oh? Please do tell”

“She’s a newborn that Carlisle himself turned just recently”

“Oh my, bring her forward now”

I looked around the witness who was just staring at me as if I grew a second head. Carlisle gave me a look to go to them, so I walked toward the other coven, twiddling my fingers to try to calm my nerves down. So this is it then? This is how I die? As I got closer the elegant vampire kept his gaze on me, it almost looked like he was forcing himself to not go to me, like he was chained down. When I was a good ten feet away from them the tall muscular vampire one grabbed me. He had a strong hold on me, if I were human, painful bruises would indeed be forming at that instant. Again that handsome vampire looked like he was about to go to me but he stood his ground. The raven one came to me closer to introduce himself

“Hello dear, what is your name?”

“Y/n”

“Now do you mind offering me your hand?”

“My hand?”

He looked a bit impatient but smiled, a creepy smile but smiled nevertheless. “Well you see I have gift of being able to look at every thought and memory with just a touch”

“Oh, I see”

I offered my hand and was instantly reliving my every thought and memory as he said but as for my incidents with Edward, Alice, and the twins I could see his every thought and memory. I saw that he wanted Alice to be part of his coven, he was thinking of just forgiving the Cullens, I even saw memories of the handsome guard who I found out his name is Demetri. It just rolls out so naturally, it's as if I was born to say his name. Aro let go of my hand after a while with a bewildered look

“Interessante, I’m sorry for the troubles you been through, but it appears you have two gifts–”

Before he could continue, the sad looking vampire rested a hand on Aro’s shoulder and he turned to him to grab his hand like he did with me. With this case when I looked at the emotionless vampire I was able to see a red string that was connecting me and Demetri. It was the richests of red I have ever seen, come to think about it, it looks like his eyes. When he let go, Aro made one of the creepiest laughs I have ever heard to humankind, straight from a horror film. 

“It appears our own Demetri has found his mate”

If I could I would shiver at the mention of Demetri’s name. The mentioned name looked at the kings with anticipation, I mean I for sure wanted answers of what is going to happen.

“Felix you can let her go now, she’s no danger to us, on the contrary she’s going to join us”

I was let go by Felix “Join you? Why?”

“Well you see dear you are the mate to one of our guards, and we would hate for him to be miserable or lack on his missions if his mate is not kept safe, maybe with time you could join him in missions”

If I'm getting this straight, if I don't join then my ‘mate’, that’s a strong word to use, will be sad and won't be able to do his job correctly. Or I stay with the people who basically kidnapped me from the life I had, turned me into this bloodthirsty monster –currently I am still thirsty– and just threw me into a situation that I was nowhere prepared for. But again I don't even know Demetri, what if he’s cruel, what if he treats me like the Cullens? My thoughts started to spiral at a point where I was one with my mind and nothing around me existed anymore. If it weren't for the husky addicting voice I would have gone mental.

“Master? May I have a word with her?”

“Go ahead, she’s your mate after all”

I felt the warmth of his soft yet rough hands. I looked into his eyes and he gave me a small hesitant smile, oh I can get used to that. I need to see his real smile now.

“Hello cariño, I am Demetri, I am aware you know nothing about me neither do I about you, but I can promise you if you come with me and my coven, I will give you anything you want, give you a life humans can never come close to having, I will promise you an eternity of love and happiness”

So this is love? The way he speaks is straight from a romance novel. And the way his face glows makes it all more sincere and truthful, heck I just want to run away with him. I was about to say something to him when I heard them. The Cullens along with their witnesses whispering about me.

“A traitor”

“All that hard work to get her here for her just to abandon us”

“I knew there was something off about her”

“Carlisle do something”

“She can’t go”

“If she goes with them, then the Volturi have more power”

“She would be stupid to go with them”

“Indeed”

“She was a mistake”

I wanted to use that gift to disappear at that moment, I didn't ask to be placed in this situation to start off with. I was forced and manipulated. 

“You promise”

His hesitant smile turned genuine “I promise amore, forever and always”

Aro literally was beaming with anticipation for my decision, reminding me of a child waiting for the final decision of their parents to let them go to a sleepover at a friend's house. I nodded which caused Aro to clap with joy 

“Magnifico my dear” His attention turned to the vampires behind me “She will be coming with us, if you dare interfere, we will wipe you out without hesitation”

Ok that’s scary but I can tell he’s serious. I could see the blonde king with a proud smirk but Demetri pulled me into his side.

“Nobody will ever take you away from me from now on”

I gave him a weak smile as we walked off the snowy battleground. I didn't ask for this new life, but maybe it won't be so bad with him. 

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Remember that ask with a s/o who had a mech? That one with firefly.

(H:SR Short Fic) Firefly's S/O using a mech

I was going to do something more comical originally, but unfortunately for everyone I just saw Gundam Narrative, which means Firefly isn't allowed to have nice things. Warnings: Angst/No Comfort, just sad robot on robot action (in the beat the shit out of each other way) Word Count: 1.8k

Firefly sat upon the roof, enjoying the peace and quiet as she stared at the stars far above in the sky. However, it wasn't long before the sounds of footsteps approached from below. She turned to the source of the sound, her lips forming into a bright smile.

(Firefly) "S/O?"

(S/O) "Hey, sorry I'm late!"

S/O was panting as they joined her, Firefly moving a little to her left to make room. They sat down close, to the point their legs were constantly brushing against hers, but neither seemed to mind. Instead of looking back to the stars, Firefly's gaze remained on S/O's own smile.

(S/O) "I was just making some final adjustments to the Phenex! I think it'll be ready to fly with you by tomorrow night!"

Firefly's eyes widened at S/O's news, leaning closer into their shoulder.

(Firefly) "Really? That's great!"

S/O beamed at her reaction, nodding excitedly as one hand wrapped around hers.

(S/O) "Honestly, I'll probably end up falling a bunch of times, but I promise, we'll find the brightest stars we can together!"

Firefly's imagination started running wild with images of S/O comically flailing about in their own steel suit, making her giggle. She couldn't wait to actually see what happened.

She opened her mouth to say something, but the words never left as she noticed S/O looked up to the sky, with a much more somber expression despite their lighthearted quip.

(S/O) "...The brightest star, huh?"

(Firefly) "...S/O?"

S/O squeezed her hand tighter as they remained silent for a moment. They seemed to grow sadder with every second that passed.

(S/O) "Did...I ever tell you the reason I even began making the Phenex, Firefly?"

She tilted her head in confusion as her brows furrowed.

(Firefly) "No, you didn't. I assumed you just wanted to be with me whenever I donned SAM."

(S/O) "Well, it was that too, but..."

Firefly felt their thumb fidget against the top of her hand as they struggled to come up with an answer, in which she simply said nothing, giving them all the time they needed.

(S/O) "I wanted to go up into the stars myself, brave whatever awaited me out there, so I could find a way to defy your fate."

Their voice started to tremble as they spoke their reason aloud.

(Firefly) "S/O..."

Finally, they turned to face her, tears welling up in their eyes.

(S/O) "That's what I'll do with the Phenex. I'll become a bird and soar, so that way I can find a way for you to be reborn."

Firefly and S/O said nothing after that declaration, staring at each other before they sighed, letting go of her hand and resting it in their face.

(S/O) "Oh my god, that sounded way better in my head than it did out loud..."

Firefly was only stunned for a few more seconds before she burst into laughter, making S/O pout at her reaction.

(S/O) "H-Hey! I know it sounded bad but you don't have to laugh that much at it!"

Both her hands rested on her stomach as it began to hurt, her laughter barely stopping as she tried her best to reply.

(Firefly) "I-I-I'm sorry! I promise I'm not laughing at you!"

It took her a minute to finally calm herself down, S/O still grumbling under their breath as they waited. Firefly gently wiped their tears away with a finger before kissing them on the cheek.

(Firefly) "It's a sweet gesture, S/O...Thank you."

S/O smiled at Firefly, resting their head onto her shoulders and closing their eyes.

(S/O) "Do you mind if I sleep up here with you tonight? I...Don't want to be alone right now."

(Firefly) "I don't think there's anything more I'd want right now than having you with me."

...

...

Firefly sat alone on another starry night, but this time there would be no one to join her. Her hands rested on each other in her lap while she stared up at the night sky, waiting for her signal.

The planet she was on now was completely different from the one S/O and her shared their last night. Instead of warm city lights, there was nothing but ruins and debris below her.

It was here where the reports of a brilliant golden machine, leaving behind a blue trail around the cosmos was sighted. Many assumed that it was some kind of divine being, or an unexplained anomaly in the universe making itself known.

But Firefly knew the truth of what it was.

Or rather, who it was.

...

...

The last step of the process was to have S/O's mind sync up with the Phenex's system. It was an extremely risky process, as this technology was still experimental and not fully understood.

Apparently, it was something that allowed the person's mind to directly translate into the machine's movements and combat capabilities, which S/O accepted the risk without hesitation.

This would be the power they needed to give Firefly her life back.

And finally settling into the suit, S/O let their mind begin synchronizing with the Phenex.

With barely a second passing, their eyes widened as their body felt a shock of pain growing faster by the second.

Firefly saw S/O's vitals rapidly spiking up and down as the Phenex dropped to one knee, screaming all the while.

(Firefly) "S/O?!"

The golden mech started to twitch involuntarily, its shield-wings shooting out and lodging itself into the facility's walls. S/O's screams were eventually drowned out by the Phenex's metallic joints creaking, almost as if it were roaring.

In an instant, flames materialized around Firefly as she dashed towards S/O, moving to rip them out of their suit. However, as soon as she made contact with them, the machine's eyes flared red and blew her backwards.

Firefly was easily able to catch herself from crashing into the floor, immediately flipping to use the walls as a launch pad as the armor's thrusters activated and she rocketed back to S/O.

The Phenex's shield wings stabbed itself into the ground and made her armor crash straight into it, making her lose course as she spiraled out of control for only a second.

Not wasting time, the Phenex's shield wings flew back behind it, and the machine flew straight up, tearing a hole through it and sped away, eventually out of sight and into the atmosphere.

...

It had been months since the incident, and Firefly was determined to bring them back. If the Phenex was still flying, then that means S/O was still alive.

As if on cue, a blue streak cut across the night sky like a knife, catching her attention and making her heart race.

(Firefly) "..."

She wanted to call out their name, but knew that they couldn't hear her anymore. What she needed to do now was to stop the Phenex.

The wind blowing her hair back was strong since she was standing at the top of a skyscraper. She knew for a fact that the Phenex would be able to detect her no matter what, so might as well choose the location that'd start the closest to them.

It took her a few seconds to stand up from her spot, and she took a deep breath, frowning as her eyes traced the blue streak that flew in a straight line above her, towards the horizon.

One foot stepped in front of the other, letting her drop from the building's edge and fall toward the ground.

Without so much as blinking, the area around her ignited as the armor's thrusters kicked into full burst, the building behind her getting scorched in the process as she gracefully weaved through the city and into the sky after the Phenex.

As elements of her HUD began blinking into view, her eyes remained focused on the blue line of light suddenly veered to her right.

With a simple nudge of her body, the armor tilted and extra thrusters emerged from the skirts of her armor to gain faster speed, feeling her body and suit both begin to heat up.

The Phenex's trail dropped completely downwards onto the streets, trying to lose its pursuer as it began wildly darting in an unpredictable manner, before it eventually disappeared into a tunnel.

Firefly quickly followed it into the temple, still not saying a word as she kept an eye on her suit's motion trackers.

Before the radar could even register the movement, the Phenex suddenly burst from the tunnel's walls, debris scattering everywhere and threatening to crush her.

She simply frowned as one punch completely obliterated the stone that tried to crash into her, eyes still following the Phenex for a split second before it tried to escape behind her.

Firefly's other arm extended outward and managed to catch the leg of the machine, before diverting her strength to fling it into the wall directly behind her, letting the Phenex slam into the stone and temporarily disabling it.

She raised her arm to disable the machine's flight unit before realizing the shield wings it had just a second ago were missing.

Alarms were ringing as signatures were quickly approaching from her flanks, making her extend both arms to catch the shields before it threatened to bisect her, Firefly's teeth clenching from the impact.

The machine's eyes stared at Firefly's helmet, and for a brief moment, its red eyes flashed a blue color.

And though it was hazy, a voice spoke out to her from the corners of her mind. It may have been her imagining things, but that didn't stop Firefly's voice from crying out:

(Firefly) "S/O!"

Seemingly unaffected by Firefly's counter, the Phenex's eyes returned to its natural state before quickly dislodging itself from its position and rocketed out of the tunnel, both shields following after.

(Firefly) "Just hang on, S/O, please!"

Even though time was the last thing on her side, she prayed that she stayed strong, at least for long enough to catch the Phenex. Firefly truly had no idea if S/O was still inside that suit considering how long it had been, but at the very least, she would avenge them by destroying the machine.

Not to mention, this machine existed because of her. It was created solely to help her, yet it seemed to be dragging both her and S/O to Aeons know where.

But she didn't care about where it was taking them, only that she rescued the person who gave their life for her.

Firefly's armor crouched before taking off, denting the concrete below her as it was left scorched by all her thrusters activating, flying after the Phenex.

...

There were many researchers and travelers who spoke of seeing a red comet chasing after a blue one in the skies that night.

No one had any idea what it was, but everyone watched in a mixture of awe and confusion, watching as the comets eventually took off into space, off towards a destination unknown.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

I have a request... though you don't have to write it or anything... just since I saw a new post, I just decided to write this thought in my head. Again, you don't have to write it if you don't want to.

Anyway, hualian with m-reader, right BUT the m reader that they are with is a clone.

If you have read dear door then you know the doctor, he has the ability to make clones NOW give that to m-reader and send hualian and a manhunt to find the real m-reader.

They find him chained under a mountain, serving punishment for whatever reason you can think of, and the only person the real m-reader trusts is his clone. Slowly warming up to hualian through constant company and assurances from his clone...

...

..

.

Smut scene is asked but not required...

Clones?

HuaLian x M!reader

Wanted to write headcanons for the first half and write an actual story for the smut part. Also read some of dear door and now you've got me hooked 🖐️😔. I got as far as knowing he has clones but not how they work 😭 since the doctor was a demon though we makin reader a ghost. This was actually hard, sorry if this sucks y'all 😭

Ignore grammar mistakes

!!! Blowjobs, gagging, sex, foursome, clonecest, orgasms galore, covered in cum, practically a gang bang if I say so myself.

____________________________________

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng have a third lover, he's a little strange but they love him dearly.

They love your clone that is, not that they would know

Your clone says strange things sometimes.

"Oh, I would've loved this", "I wonder what I'm doing right now?"

You're right here what do you mean?

They've decided, maybe it's a weird quirk of yours.

So without your knowledge, your clone has gained the affections of two very strong and important men.

Hua Cheng has been gazing at 'you' lately. Recently he's been suspicious of something.

He caught you crying.

While usually he would've immediately comforted you, he had noticed you were calling your own name while sobbing into the pillows.

Xie Lian has also been studying 'you' lately.

You've never been a fan of the public and usually hide your face behind a different form. The day they took 'you' out on a date and you forgot to hide your face, the ghosts seemed very confused.

They kept their space that day.

It was unusual so Xie Lian went looking around trying to see what was going on.

"I could've sworn he had been killed...", "Haven't seen that face in years..."

But you had been here the whole time?

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng eventually talk to each other about it and find out they have similar suspicions.

They confront 'you' about it and you bust into tears in their arms immediately.

Through muffled sobs, your clone admits what he is. Just that, a clone .

He tells Xie Lian and Hua Cheng everything, and tells them that his real name is just ' Kèlóng' which means clone.

So if this is Kèlóng, and just a clone... Where are you?

It doesn't take long at all to find the real you, Xie Lian knew where you were most likely being kept.

The real you however isn't as, trusting, as Kèlóng is.

You also look different. Older, scarred, and irritated.

Kèlóng, looks younger and bubblier.

They do get you out of under that mountain though, and let you stay at Paradise Manor.

You only really agreed because Kèlóng said it was safe.

Xie Lian and Hua Cheng know you don't know them, and you technically aren't their lover but they can't help but love you anyways.

They're careful with you, and let Kèlóng do a lot of things since you only seem to trust him.

It takes a while for you to be comfortable in the presence, especially Xie Lian's since he's a god.

You don't hate them, you guess. They aren't mean and even though at first you had been scared like a feral cat who hisses and scratches they seemed to keep caring and loving you anyways.

So after some time you let them in.

Kèlóng is happy, his creator and lovers are getting along well. And maybe you'll become their lover too!

He predicts correctly.

Kèlóng made it a game to roam around in your form instead of his usual young looking self, so Xie Lian and Hua Cheng can't tell who's, who.

Eventually kisses, and affections start getting muddled between both of you.

And you? You didn't say anything because you enjoyed it.

Hua Cheng is the one who finds this out. He kissed you thinking it might be Kèlóng. When Kèlóng, in his normal look, and Xie Lian walk in though, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian figure it out.

Especially with the way you don't pause to stop. When Hua Cheng pulls back in embarrassment, and tries to apologize, you pull him back closer and continue making out with him.

That's when they decide to ask you to be their lover as well.

Of course you agreed.

🦊🪷

You are not a clone fucker, you never looked at your clone and thought, 'Yeah, I would fuck myself'. But this situation makes you think, you might be on the border edge of being considered clonecest?

The situation being, you gagging on your own clones cock that is. How did you get in this situation you ask? Hua Cheng and Xie Lian were curious. They wanted to see you, intimate with your clone and well... You looked at their stupid, handsome faces and said yes.

You weren't expecting to be gang banged! What the fuck?! You're brought back to be present when Hua Cheng's hips smack against your ass, forcing you to take Kèlóng's cock deeper down your throat.

You gargle, and Kèlóng is generous enough to pull out of your mouth. Since when was your dick this good? Since when was Hua Cheng's so big? This is ridiculous.

"How... How much longer are we going to do this?" Your voice is raspy now when you talk now. Hua Cheng has been arranging your guts for hours now and you swear the stupid ghost hasn't cum once.

Hua Cheng's chuckle vertebrates in his chest. "Gege hasn't even had a turn yet, why are you so impatient?" He runs his hand down your spine and then pulls your arms behind your back, forcing you to take him deeper. You whine loudly and huff through your nose.

You glance over to where Xie Lian sits. He's just watching, he always watches. It's embarrassing, his pretty eyes gazing at your face, soaking up everything they can. Kèlóng moves away from you and briefly you can hear your clone urge Xie Lian to take your mouth.

Xie Lian complies, you can tell when the bed dips in front of you and you're suddenly met with Xie Lian's cock. It's not like you hate this. They know you don't hate it. If you did, you wouldn't have lurched forward to deepthroat Xie Lian.

Xie Lian runs his fingers gently through your hair and slowly rolls his hips. Unlike your clone who so excitedly fucked your throat. It feels like you're floating right now, not having to think about anything. Your cloud palace is interrupted when Kèlóng fists your hair and pushes your head down on Xie Lian's dick.

Hua Cheng takes his chance to fuck you deeper, harder. He must be close. Xie Lian has also started rocking his hips faster. They fuck you in a way that keeps you full. Not one second do you not have a cock in you. Fuck it turns you on.

You feel someone grab your hand and put it in an 'o' position. Distantly you hear Kèlóng, "Let me use your hand Y/n, please please please" it's not like he wait for you approval. He's already got his, yours?, his dick thrusting into your hand as if you chose to jerk him off.

You're surrounded. By your lovers, by men, by cocks. You love it and soon your body racks with another orgasm. It's not long until the men around you cum either.

They choose to make it messy. Xie Lian pulls out and cums on your face, though it's obvious he was sheepish about it. Hua Cheng doesn't, he pulls out and shoots an abnormal amount of cum across your ass and lower back. Kèlóng, your own clone, cums into your hand and manages to get it in your hair.

You fall limo into the bed and pant softly. All of them are looking at you. To them you look good like this, covered in all their cum. This is where you were meant to be not under that mountain.

"why are you guys looking at me like that..?" You tilt your head.

They're definitely going to fuck you again. What God should you pray to?

[aothotties]

How they help you get over someone

| Eren | Armin | Reiner | Jean|

Word count: 1016

Warnings: Levi is in his 30s, car sex, mating press, pet names (mama), squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

“But i just feel so dumb, im literally so stupid” you huffed to your gym buddy, Levi as you spotted him.

He finished his set then sat up and turned towards you 

“Y/N, you're so young. You're going to make mistakes plus you're a girl. No ones mad at you for believing what he said to you and having sex with him” he said plainly 

You always vented to Levi when you were upset and he always found a way to give you great advice and help you through everything. Him being older made it easier to trust him because you felt like he was grown grown and had it all together

“I'm mad at myself. I feel like I'm too old to still fall for the same bullshit I fell for in highschool. Were you like me at my age?” you stated as tears threatened to spill from your eyes

“ I was worse” , he responded, “don't feel bad about it. Its a normal thing for you to be upset that he fucked you then never spoke to you again, youre not the problem. Any woman, no matter what age, would be upset about that. I mean there's some succubuses out there that just smash everyone and don't feel a thing, but most women aren't like that”

You couldn't lie, levi always reassured you and made you feel better about making regular human choices and never allowed you to beat yourself up for making mistakes

You both finished your workout and left the gym. He walked out next to you and made sure you were safe in the parking lot because it was late at night. You stopped at the car and he pulled you into a hug

“You'll be alright, mama. Don't be so hard on yourself” he said and you buried your face in his chest and began to cry 

Even though his words made you feel better you were still sad. He rubbed your back and let you get it all out and refused to let go until you finished crying

You pulled away and wiped your tears on your shirt

“Thank you, i really appreciate you, Levi” you said to him once you composed yourself

“Dont worry about it, i'm always here if you need me” he responded.

You stared up at him completely enamored. You had the strongest feelings for him and had them for a while. You tried sleeping with that other guy thinking it would help you get over him but it clearly didn't work. You just ended up sad and crying in his arms which strengthened your feelings. You were convinced Levi didn't feel the same and you were too sacred to say anything in fear that it would ruin the friendship you have

“Aye aren't you glad you asked me to be your gym partner”, he said trying to change the subject

“yeah , i guess” you laughed as you responded 

“You guess? You know you wanted to be like me, that's why you approached me and asked for my help” he nudged you a little bit as he teased 

“That definitely not the reason i approached you but yeah let's go with that” you told on yourself before you even had the chance to realize it

He looked down at you and smirked as he nodded, “ yeah i know”

He confirmed in that moment that he knew exactly how you felt about him and apparently he felt the same because he grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you towards his car

Levi drove a nice white tesla and you had been dying to see the inside 

He had you in the back seat folded completely in half as he pressed his weight onto you 

His dick was reaching so far inside you that your mind went blank. All you could do was moan his name while he fucked you at a steady pace.

Sweat rolled down his abs as he was sliding in and out of your dripping wet pussy. He was mesmerized by the way you were sucking him in. He was also taken aback at how good your body looked folded under him.

Sometimes at the gym he would make slick comments about your ass but you never realized it was his way of telling you he felt the same.

“Fuck Levi, r-right there. Im gonna cum baby” you whined as you grabbed his biceps 

His pace didn't change and he continued to fuck you all the way to your peak

“Mmhmm mama, cum for me” he said as he watched your face contort in pleasure

Your high flooded over you and you came hard all over his thick cock. You felt bad that you squirted on his perfectly clean seats but he couldn't care less. He wanted to see you cum for him over and over again and didn't care about what happened to his car.

He never let up and kept going until you came for him multiple times. Each time you came a mantra of praises left his lips. 

His pace became more erratic as he came close to his climax. You could feel his dick throbbing inside you as he was about to cum

“ gonna cum inside you mama, f-fill you up real good” he stated between deep grunts

He slammed into you hard one last time then you felt as his hot thick cum spilled inside you. He slid out and watched as it pooled out of you but he quickly pushed it back in with his fingers.

You both threw your clothes on and you stepped out of his car and wobbled as you tried to stand up straight. He laughed at you and shook his head. He put his arm around you and walked you to your car 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss on your forehead 

“Best cardio i've ever done” he stated as he opened the door for you 

You hopped in your car and deleted the other guy's number knowing damn well he did not match up to Levi in any way.

[todomochi-uwu]

Who. (2/?) J. Y & S. M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Other chapters: Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

Yunho kept checking the file in his hands, reading over and over the same words not being able to register anything, his head was all over the place, between the tiredness, the stress and his broken heart, concentrating was proving to be impossible.

“Careful, Jeong. If you think any harder your head might catch on fire.” Said Lee Minho entering the doctor’s launch with an empty coffee mug.

“Piss off, Minho.” He didn't turn his eyes from the paper, determined to make it work no matter how much it took.

Minho’s eyes focused on the taller man in front of him, his skin was paler than normal, a slight blue tint covered it; his eyes were sunk in their sockets, dark purple bags underneath them; lips dry and crusty; he looked thinner, he looked sick. Yunho and Minho weren’t by any means close, they had spent the entire med school fighting for the top spot in their class; Jeong Yunho had proved to be a real pain in the ass, managing to balance school, work, friends and a fucking three-way relationship while Lee Minho could barely sleep and see his, now, husband.

“Not that I care, Jeong but, are you okay?” Said Minho, leaning against the countertop and waiting for the coffee to be done.

Yunho tossed the folder on the table, completely done. He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, trying to calm the blinding headache he had been carrying around his entire shift. “I don’t think it’s any of your business, Lee.”

The cat-eyed doctor shrugged, not wanting to dig any further, he tried. He took his mug and made a beeline straight to the door, but he couldn’t help but look back at his school rival, and what he saw shocked him a bit. His shoulders were slumped, and shaking, his face in between his hands, and small but heavy sobs left his mouth. A suffering Yunho was something he had never expected to see, and while he thought it would bring him joy, it just made him feel weird. He would have to ask Jisung what was going on, he was friends with Mingi, and he would have to know.

______________________________________________________________

Mingi was not doing any better at work. He fell asleep on his desk, barely paid attention at meetings, and was hostile to his co-workers and possible clients. Jongho was done with attitude, he had been patient, as much as he could, and he tried to understand the situation, but it was becoming too much.

“Mingi, I am begging you, please go home, you cannot continue like this. Get some sleep, eat and come back when you are better.” Jongho said as softly as possible, not wanting to trigger another fight with the dirty blonde lawyer in front of him.

“Jongho, I’m okay. I would rather just be working, there’s nothing to do at home anyways.”

“Mingi…” He was interrupted.

“Jongho, I won't repeat myself, leave me alone.” He turned his chair away from the younger lawyer.

That was it. He was done.

Jongho slammed his hand against the desk, startling Mingi, “Listen to me, Mingi, I get that you are sad, okay? I get it. But you cannot come here and act like a fucking dick and expect everyone to be okay with it. We tried to be nice and give you a couple of weeks to recover, but so far, we have lost two important clients because of your attitude and you pissed off three more. I’m sorry she left, but I highly doubt she would come back if she saw the mess you’ve become. Yelling at people, turning work in late, getting drunk, fighting with Yunho, do you think she wants that? Because I highly doubt it.” He jabbed his finger into Mingi’s chest. “Get. Your. Shit. Together.” And with that he left the office, slamming the door on his way out.

Mingi sighed, taking off his tie. He closed his eyes trying to calm down, but it seemed impossible. Anxiety had been tormenting him for almost a month now, and it didn’t seem like it would stop any time soon. He misses you. A lot. He just didn’t know how to function without that missing piece. Nothing was working right now, his head was always a mess, always going back to that night, trying to remember every moment he neglected you; he was trying to balance out his pain and stress to not mess up his relationship with Yunho as well; while also trying to balance out work as to not get fired, or at least not to piss off Jongho even more, but nothing is working. He misses you, and without you, nothing in him works.

______________________________________________________________

Chan was in the kitchen bar working; his heavy and expensive headphones sat on the top of his head while he was nodding along to the rhythm of his last track. He kept replaying it to try and figure out what was missing, what he could change or fix, but he just couldn’t concentrate. Flashbacks kept showing up in his head, replaying again and again, memories of his college days, memories of the time he fell in love with his now roommate and failed to do something about it.

It was the winter semester; the campus was covered in snow and everyone found refuge inside the library. Chan was planning to go there and work on a paper that was due that same night, but once he saw the amount of people inside the building, he decided he wouldn’t be able to work there. And just as he was about to leave, he saw Hongjoong sitting on a couch in the corner, next to him was something that made the producer’s mouth dry. A woman so beautiful his eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing, his brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening, his feet moved on their own in that direction, he needed to talk to her, to know her name, to introduce himself. His friend got up as soon as he saw him, greeting him and introducing her. Y/n. That was her name, a name Chan would never be able to forget.

A friendship was established that day. You would start by hanging out with Hongjoong, going out to eat, watch a movie or to a party; but soon it became just the two of you. Hanging out at each other’s dorms, he showed you some of his music, and you showed him some of her stories; at first, he would walk you back to her room every night, but after some time you would stay over, “it’s easier” you said. One fateful night, Christopher finally made a move, giving you a quick peck on the lips while listening to your favourite artist’s latest album, the largest seconds of his life were right after, waiting for your reaction; you ended up fucking on top of his desk, pushing all his books, and cd’s to the floor.

That was the way the next months were spent, hanging out and finding any and every excuse to have sex, but never giving a title to what you were. Chan just assumed you weren’t ready for that kind of commitment, convincing himself he was fine with what you had, not admitting he was just too much of a coward to ask if you felt the same as him.

“I just don’t understand him, Jisung. One day he acts as if we were a couple, and the next he calls me his best friend. Friends don’t treat each other the way we do, friends don’t do what we do.”

“Maybe he isn’t ready for that kind of commitment, he would just rather stay as friends with benefits.” Jisung pat her on the back, trying to comfort her.

“But I don’t want to be just friends with benefits.” You pouted her lips.

“Hey, come on, don’t be sad. I'll tell you what, why don’t you come with me to Wooyoung’s party this Friday? You’ll have fun and forget, at least for a bit, about Chan.”

Christopher’s first mistake was introducing you to Jisung. The second one was allowing you to befriend him. And his last, but most fatal one was not going to that party. Why? Because Yunho and Mingi were there.

“Y/n, this my friend Mingi. Mingi, this is Y/n.” And just like that, it was over before it could even begin. That same night Mingi had introduced you to Yunho, and they both were heads over heels for you, they asked you to hang out the very next day and while at first you were confused as to how it would work, they won you over, pushing completely out the idea of Chan off your head.

He remembered the first time you talked about them, he thought you had just made out with one of them at the party, and while he wasn’t exactly happy about it, he could let it slide, no idea of what was about to come. Texts left unanswered; calls that went to voicemail; and long nights waiting for you to show up, but at some point, it became clear, that you were not just sleeping around with them, you were in love. That very same night he went out and got drunk out of his mind, only being able to get back home after Changbin and Minho found him trashed on a bench in front of their building. He blamed himself, if he hadn’t been so scared, if he had just tried, you would be his, and he promised himself that if that door ever opened again, he would be there. But as time went on, it became more apparent that would never happen… until now.

He kept repeating over and over to himself that you weren’t ready, that you still love them and that you were still mourning that relationship, but he couldn’t help himself, he wanted you.

The last month he had been in some kind of hell in heaven. When you first had shown up, he was pissed off beyond comprehension, how could they let this happen? How could they treat you like that? He had spent every second of his existence since he met you, loving and worshipping the ground you walk on and they had let you slip away? Unbelievable. But he couldn’t help but see the perks of all of this. He was the one to console you, to build you back up, and through the course of the weeks, you were better.

He would come back home to you cooking, greeting him the second he went in; you telling him about your day or a new show you were watching; you showed him your work and asked his opinion. Everything went back to how it was; it was even better. This is what he had been missing out all this time?

“Good morning, Channie.”

“Welcome back, Chan. I made some spaghetti; I hope you like it.”

“Hey, Chan. How was work?”

Oh, blissful domesticity. But everything was too good to be true. They would show up in the most subtle ways, in the middle of a conversation, in the notifications of your phone, even in the clothes you wore, they still smell like them; your ex-boyfriends were everywhere in his apartment, tormenting him. And, of course, he wasn’t blind, he could see it, your face still showed how heartbroken you were, and he could also hear it at night, small sobs escaped your mouth, whispering their names again and again.

Yunho…

Mingi…

Never his name.

______________________________________________________________

Jisung had just arrived home, his hands full of grocery bags balancing them while trying to open the door, and just as he was about to spill everything on the ground, a soft hand came to his rescue.

“Jesus, Sungie be careful.” The person behind him giggled.

“Y/n?” His eyebrows furrowed, confused, but he still leaned in and hugged you. “What are you doing here? How did you get in the building?”

“Oh, I live here now.”

“Mingi gave up his rent control apartment? Is he crazy?”

“Um… not exactly.” You scratched the back of your head.

“Okay, come inside and tell me what’s going on.”

…

“And that’s how I ended up living with Chan.” You took a small sip of the hot chocolate Jisung had prepared.

“Have you talked to them?”

You shook your head.

Jisung’s arms were folded against his chest, his eyes looking directly at yours, not sure what to say, “So it’s over between you and them?”

“I don’t know, Hannie. I love them, so much it hurts, but I don't think they feel the same way, they act as if I'm not even there, as if I'm not important to them.” You lay down on the kitchen table, controlling your breathing so you won't start crying.

“Well, that’s just not true.” He put his hand on top of your head, petting you, “Mingi can be an idiot sometimes and the same goes for Yunho, but they love you, baby. From the very first moment they met you, they have loved you, maybe they just lost their tracks for a moment, but they will come back to you.” He kissed you on the forehead, “and if for some reason they don’t, I will be there to help you pick up the pieces.”

______________________________________________________________

Minho arrived late at night, completely done with work and with stubborn patients who thought they knew more than him because they read an article on the internet. Jisung ran to the front door as soon as he heard the jiggling of the keys, ready to receive his grumpy husband. He accompanied him into the kitchen, where he served him a hot plate of his favourite food and told him about this day.

“I found the chips you like on sale so I bought a couple, I also bought the ingredients I was missing for that ramen you want to try, oh and I tried that juice I’ve been craving, but it wasn’t that good.” Minho couldn’t keep up with the number of things that came out of his husband’s mouth, but he was happy to listen. “Oh, oh my god I almost forgot, guess who I ran into?”

“Who?” He said while shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

“Y/n, she broke up with Mingi and Yunho, and she’s staying with Chan.”

Minho choked, coughing aggressively, not believing the words that came out of Jisung’s mouth. Everything made sense now, that’s why the puppy-like doctor had been so miserable the last couple of weeks. And why Chan had been avoiding him lately. He got up and headed towards the door, “Give me a second, love I’ll be right back.”

He made his way down the hall, he was in no mood to do this, but it had to be done. He had witnessed first-hand how completely devastated had Chan been after you had broken his heart (not that he thinks you did it on purpose), how hard it was to get him to shower, to go to work, how long it took him to go back to normal, and he feared it would happen again. He pounded on the door, not caring if the neighbours next door complained. The door opened harshly, a sleep-deprived Christopher on the door side, looking at him as if he had grown to heads.

“Min, it’s two in the morning, what the hell are you doing here?”

The doctor grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the wall next to the door, “You are going to explain to me exactly what you think you are doing.”

“I'm not doing anything. She’s my friend, I want to help her move…”

He interrupted, “What? Move on? Were you planning to be her saviour so she would fall in love with you? Bang Chan, she’s been engaged to them for almost a year now, they are just going through a rough patch…”

“They broke up.”

“They will get back together, it's more than obvious, they are in love.” He whispered yelling, he was worried, did Chan think he had a chance?

“They neglected her, Minho they took her for granted, I would…”

“Chan, listen to me, she’s not in love with you, whatever you two had it's over, it's been over for years, for Christ's sake.” He shook his shoulders, trying to get some sense into him.

“I know what I'm doing.”

“You clearly, don’t.” He pushed his friend back into his apartment and went back to his. His entire body ached, but anxiety filled his head, not letting him rest.

______________________________________________________________

“So, she finally dumped your ass, good for her honestly,” Minho said as he entered Yunho’s office. The latter one looked up at him, the look in his eyes completely dead. “Geez, you look like shit.”

“What do you want, Minho? I'm busy, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“I know where she is.”

“What?” Yunho looked at him with wide-open eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare lie to me about this.” He got up and grabbed Lee by the collar and shook him, “How the fuck do you know that?”

“Because I saw her.” Little white lie, but he technically did know where she was. He pushed him back, “I don’t like you, Yunho, at all. But I know what it's like to be in your shoes, so I’ll make you a deal, you get your shit together and I might just tell you where she is.”

______________________________________________________________

Yunho’s hands kept trembling, he had barely been able to drive home without crashing. He wanted to scream, to cry, to tell Mingi what Minho had told him, all at the same time, but he also thought, what would he say? How could he apologize? Would she take them back? He went into the house, Mingi was lying on the couch, a book in his hands and glasses sitting on his face, his eyebags and skin tone resembling his boyfriend’s, he turned to look at him, noticing how fidgety and dishevelled he looked.

“Are you okay? Did something happen at work?” He got up and approached Yunho, he grabbed his face in his hands and caressed his cheeks.

“Um…” he bit off some of the skin in his lip, not knowing how to deliver the news, his head couldn’t put the words together, not even able to process them. “Minho told me something today.”

“Ugh, that asshole. I don’t know how Jisung married that guy, he's such a nice guy and Minho is so…”

Yunho interrupted him, not able to hold it in any longer, “Minho says he knows where Y/n is staying.”

Mingi felt how the air left his body, all thoughts abandoning his mind in the same way, tears were quick to rush to his eyes, “What?”

“Yeah, he saw her and knows where she’s been staying.” He paused to order his next words, “And he said he will tell me if we manage to get our shit together.”

Mingi took him into his arms and squeezed him till he was out of breath, not being able to contain his happiness. Together they cried and smiled while the thought of everything going back to normal filled them, that was until something crossed their minds at the same time, would you even want them back?

______________________________________________________________

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@tunaasan @scuzmunkie

[strawberrystepmom]

shifting sands and the fingers they fall through | one

cw: non-graphic discussion of an injury reader has. trafalgar law x fisherman f!reader. | word count: 1.7k, reading time: approx. 6 min.

note: this is the first part of a series. each post will contain warnings that pertain to that particular chapter. | part: two, three, four; five, six

The late morning sun beats hot overhead but you remain cool enough tucked beneath your fishmongering stall, humming to yourself while pouring more ice into the chests behind you that contain everything you caught last night and this morning.

So far everything has gone the same way it does, well, every day. You wake up, you fish, you clean, you put them on ice, you sell what you can. This is the rhythm of your life, never up or down or out of tune, just the way you think you like it. It has been this way for at least a decade so there’s no sense in complaining about it now, even while you notice the tune your humming feels off key. It must be the lingering heat.

It’s technically autumn although you’d never know it. Island life is perpetually sundrenched, the waters that provide your shelter and food thanks to their contents never cooling quite enough to keep you from doing the job. There’s always demand regardless, whether it be from small fleets that dock near your sleepy seaside hometown or your fellow inhabitants. The work is never quite all the way done.

You go back to humming, fixing your pitch, only to be interrupted by footsteps approaching the front of your stall.

“Good morning, flounder is the catch of the day. The fish comes cleaned and I’ll even throw in deboning for free if you’d like.”

Your spiel goes unanswered which is rare. It’s usually recited back to you by any one of your regular buyers, a smile on their face mirroring your own. This draws you to turn around and face whoever is standing in front of the stall, one of the few in town run by a woman.

The man standing there is a stranger.

Every person on this island knows one another, the various small fishing villages dotting the coastline deeply interconnected. You were an outsider once too. Granted, you tried a lot harder to fit in than this man standing in front of you, his clothes vastly different from the breezy linen and cotton worn by everyone else. His face is firm, mouth set in a line with dark hair that brushes the tops of his eyebrows and narrowed golden eyes.

At least he’s a handsome stranger, you reason. You smile and roll your shoulders forward slightly and he remains as you found him. Unmoved.

“The flounder is fine and so are the bones.”

In an instant, your expression turns from pleasant to puzzled. He doesn’t react, simply keeping his hands folded over his chest wordlessly and expressionless. Clearly this guy isn’t interested in small talk and that’s fine, you get to work and pull a piece of parchment from beneath the counter and open the ice chest behind you to pull out your largest catch.

A fruit of the sea, caught and processed lovingly by your hands. Sometimes you catch yourself softly smiling down at the faces of all the fish you catch, perhaps as a means to honor them or at least say you’re sorry. Today though, you keep the subtle smile to yourself and get to work.

“It’ll be 350 Belly,” you mutter while plopping the flounder down on the paper, folding the edge of the paper over the tail. This mysterious man says nothing but his gaze is heavy and is clearly pinned to your movements, your left arm specifically.

“Your stitches look like shit.”

A loud exhalation followed by a humorless laugh is your initial response, pausing your work and then resuming it for a moment to avoid saying something snarky to a man who is about to pay you. You pause again, tilting your head to the side to look up at this stranger who apparently believes insults are appropriate.

“Thanks, I did them myself,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes, proud of your ability to do so covertly enough he won’t even be able to tell.

He absolutely notices it, alongside the range of emotion you’ve let show all over your face in such a short span of time, and shifts his weight from foot to foot while folding his arms over his chest. Law isn’t trying to be an asshole. If you insist on taking his concern that way, it makes no difference to him. The bottom line is that he can see clear as the sky overhead that this wound was not properly tended to.

“You need to see a doctor about that.”

Still narrowed eyes dart down to inspect the jagged wound that will undoubtedly leave a scar if it doesn’t get infected and kill you first. You shake your head and shrug, back to work wrapping his fish. The wound aches if you’re honest. Thankfully you’ve been able to stay busy enough to ignore it although it’s an angry, screaming red and makes itself impossible to completely tune out.

Sighing again, you finish wrapping the fish and slide it across the countertop to the man still appraising your arm from afar. You have work to do and this conversation is preventing it from getting done. Why is he wasting your time with a lecture?

“When you find one, let me know. We don’t have one on the island.”

Hopefully your tone is dismissive enough that he gets the picture. You still feel him looking at you, which is frustrating. Law raises his brows, eyes finally shifting from your arm back to your face.

“Today must be your lucky day because there’s one right in front of you.”

You laugh again. It’s a bit more genuine sounding than the first, a confused smile spreading across your face. This man, the one with the ominously tattooed knuckles, is a doctor?

“What?” He asks, face as impassive as it has remained since the moment he arrived at your little stall.

What is he doing here to begin with? Fishing islands are no strangers to a range of visitors, some more nefarious than others, but it’s a surprise that anyone shows up here. Maybe he’s just like you and he’s running to find himself. Or hiding, that’s always a possibility.

Either way, your sleepy little life could be about to get more interesting. Thrusting your arm outward in his direction and raising your eyebrows expectantly, you see how he’ll react. If he’s going to brag about it, you may as well put him to work after all.

“I wasn’t offering to look at it for you,” he clarifies while reaching out to wrap his hand around your wrist.

He finds it slightly annoying that instinct kicked in before he could stop it, his earnest desire to help people buried deep enough he can ignore it most of the time. The touch makes you a little skittish, defying your boldness in offering the opportunity to begin with.

“I told you we don’t have a doctor here. Where else am I gonna find one?”

Sighing, he tugs you gently toward him. You bend at the waist, leaning over the counter, wincing when his thumb brushes against the sorest part of the wound - the skin directly on the edges of it. It’s hot to the touch, eliciting an annoyed glance in your direction. The wound is bad but you did your best with what was on hand which was nothing but a huge needle and durable thread meant for mending sails.

“It’s going to get infected if it isn’t already.”

This should scare you more than it does but you shrug flippantly, preparing to pull your arm back before being stopped with a firm but strangely gentle thumb on the outside of it. The doctor, as you know him now, leans in closer and really glances at the damage done, shaking his head so quickly you’d miss it if you blinked.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under his gaze. This is far more attention than you’re used to even for being a somewhat attractive, single woman on an island mostly populated by men. Most of them are old and settled into their lives with wives or kids or partners or their own unconventionally formed families. Everyone just kind of sees you as friendly but odd, a reputation you’ve grown to appreciate.

So this, this attention, this heavy, searing pair of eyes belonging to not only a handsome stranger but a doctor no matter how bad his attitude may be, makes your face heat. You are ready to send him and his fish on their way, a stranger departing on the wind that brought him in.

“I’ll pop and re-do the stitches myself when I get home,” you assure him, even if it’s likely untrue. By the time you wrap up at the stall you will be too tired to do anything but drag yourself home, throw your dress over your head, and crash into bed to be up early enough to do it all in the morning.

Raising his eyebrows, he glowers down at you. “Make sure you clean it first.”

Nodding to indicate that you understand, you wait for his thumb to drop from your arm and pull it back as soon as he does. The wound aches even strongly now that it’s all you can focus on, painful enough that sweat prickles at your palms. All you want right now is for him to just go as quickly as he appeared so you can move on with your day.

“You got it, doc.”

Getting back to work, you quickly fold and wrap the fish up. Twine is tied into a bow to secure the parcel and it’s passed across the counter, your wide eyes gazing up at him. The way he meets them makes you shiver despite the warm, humid air of your home. Digging in his pocket he produces a few coins and places them down on the counter wordlessly, taking his bundle and turning his back to walk away.

“Hey,” you call, and he looks over his shoulder. “What’s your name?”

That never changing expression remains but his voice, deep as it is, sounds quite nearly amused.

“Law.”

Law, Law, Law. You commit it to memory, notoriously bad with names as you are. Then you start to attempt to recall if you’ve ever heard it before, maybe having heard it muttered amongst the fisherman who help you at night during flounder season.

Nothing rings a bell. By the time you are no longer lost in your own reverie, Law has long gone and you look down at the counter where shiny gold coins sit.

He left you 500 Belly, more than he had to.