#I'm getting a little out of my comfort zone with this one as I don't draw couples often

[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.26 - The Final Chapter

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: Smuttttt, happy endings, hope-core

Announcement: We made it y'all.... here's the final epilogue/final chapter. I'm so serious about you guys submitting writing prompts and little messages. Times are tough out here and I need more clone content hehe. So please don't be a stranger, I see all of your messages and I'll be getting around to writing them now that I've finished this hunk of a fic haha.

Enjoy babes and may the force by with you.

16k words below....

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The fire popped and crackled as Crosshair added another log to the roaring hearth. 

With the rain pattering outside, and the delicious warmth radiating from the fireplace, you stretched like a loth cat in the pile of exotic furs Hunter and Crosshair had collected over the months here on Zyphor. You twisted and mewled feeling every tight muscle relax as you settled back down in your comfort spot. 

With the help of your alphas,  you had created a permanent nest in the center of your oversized domicile. 

Located just a few minutes outside of the little developing clone village, deep in the uncharted parts of the forest planet, Tech had designed a perfect home for you and your pack. 

With one central space for all of your to share with a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and of course your favorite thing on the planet, the huge nest full of luxurious furs absolutely covered in all of your combined scents. The main communal space then broke off into six smaller domiciles, each your own private quarters. 

There was even one for Echo when he’d visit from Teth. 

Tech made sure everything was planned accordingly in this little settlement. 

Wrecker and Hunter had worked tirelessly collecting materials and utilizing the construction droids to build your home relatively quickly. You used collected rainwater to plumb the home, and wood from the forest to keep you warm. 

It was lovely. 

Growing up on Coruscant, you were thrilled to experience real rain. When the synthetic weather centers had scheduled a rainstorm it was always your favorite, but now you had it everyday. It was calming and peaceful here. 

You were over the moons. The boys explained how the rain was also a comfort to them. Thats all they knew in their short youth. To have it now daily pattering against your shelter, you all felt very at home. 

Tech even invented a hydro electric water mill to power the settlement. The intricate grid system with back up generators kept you all illuminated and warm. 

You still couldn’t believe this was your every day life… Zyphor was a dream. 

You even requested a garden and a green house which the boys set up instantly. Of course Tech made sure the internal growing system was immaculate. Creating an extremely viable growing zone for some of the warmer dryer species of fruits. 

You had never gardened before and it was entertaining to watch your seedlings mature. Your job on the homestead was to study gardening and farming practices. 

You were put in charge of the produce production for your little pack. So far you were killing it. With your background in the sciences, you found it to be quite enjoyable and easy to grasp and pretty methodical. 

Snapping back to the present, you studied Crosshair as he used the iron poker to adjust a few logs before carefully placing the new ones on top to feed the flame. You smiled seeing how his lean figure was beginning to fill out more as he was able to eat more and destress. Though, his body seemed to become even more muscular from all the hard manual labor they had been doing. 

He looked healthy. 

It made your heart flutter. 

Crosshair had been assigned to learning how to hunt and track game with Hunter. Their whole lives, they had only been trained to track targets for their missions, but luckily they were able to apply that knowledge and experience to their growing hunting skills. 

They were an unstoppable team. With Hunter’s abilities and Crosshair’s sharpshooting, you knew you’d never go hungry. 

And that being said, it was discovered that Wrecker is a remarkable cook. Once he stepped into the kitchen the first night to cook up the kill, you all learned he had a natural talent for taste and preparations. 

He has managed to keep you all satisfied and filled with yummy dishes night after night. Though he groans about lacking his usual snacks, he does enjoy the fruit you had gathered and even slimmed down a bit too. He looked more fit than you had ever seen, and he even carried a certain glow about him now realizing his passions for food. 

Wrecker also was in charge of the shaak ranch. His gentle demeanor was very appealing to the imported animals. He built the corral where the animals resided munching on grass during the day. You even made Wrecker his own sunhat which he wears proudly as he shepherds the animals during the day. 

He looked just like a ranch hand… a sexy ranch hand. 

That thought stirred something devious and lusty inside you. You sighed happily, allowing your thoughts to drift to Hunter. He too had filled out a bit from de-stressing. Hunter had taken to the three orbak you also keep with the shaak. Those monstrous creatures seemed to like him too as he utilized them for his hunting trips with Crosshair. Their muscular hooves legs seemed to carry the two alphas effortlessly for hours on end. 

You giggled when remembering when they were trying to figure out how to ride them the first few times. Crosshair had complained the whole time, nearly getting bucked off while Hunter took to it like a natural. You joked that he could talk to them to Crosshair’s chagrin. 

Crosshair has since ceased his complaining and muted it down to an annoyed grunt every time the animal acts on its own accord. 

You smiled at the memories. 

The you had to stifle your laughter remembering when Rex and the boys brought in a shipment of tip-yip chicks. They were bestowed upon you and put in your charge to take care of and raise for eggs and meat. On one particularly rainy day, one had escaped your coop, and you were forced to chase it down following it all the way to the barn where you had tripped and landed face first in a pile of thick mud with a loud splat. 

You could still hear your boys howling with laughter as you sat up wiping your eyes trying to see where that damn bird went. 

…Tip Yip had never tasted so good…

You bit your tongue forcing down the giggle. 

Then that leaves Tech. 

The man had never been so thrilled to be involved in a project in his entire life. Planning an entire village with the details all the way down to the wiring of each domicile had the man busy and mentally stimulated. You loved watching the way the gears were turning in his very brilliant head. Even preparing for weather disasters and all the variables none of you had considered. 

It was fascinating to watch. 

On the top of his list of completed projects was your packs home, the shaak barn, the orbak stables, your high tech green house and garden, the hydro-electric mill, and then finally the small medical clinic and research lab. 

With the help of the boys on Teth, they managed to set up an entire fully operational research facility with everything you could possibly need. Everything was down to your specific requests and that is where you spent most of your time these days… 

“I can feel you thinking.” Crosshair closed the metal grate separating you from the blazing fire. 

You rolled over to face him, “You know what I’m thinking about.” You burrowed into the plush fur beneath you.

“Research?” He raised an exasperated brow. 

“Mhmm.” You smiled sweetly. 

“Darling, I appreciate what you’re doing more than you could ever know.” He knelt down next to you running his fingers over your jaw, “But you don’t need to stress. It will happen when it happens. You need to relax and spend more time here with us.” He gestured to the lovely home. 

“And on your cock?” You smirked as he laid down beside you, naked as you. 

He hummed, “Yes, and other things.” He chuckled into your neck where he kissed his mark on your skin. You shuttered. 

“Rex is supposed to be coming today with the last ingredient I need for the serum. I can’t stop thinking about it and running variables in my head.” You sighed nuzzling his neck. 

“Then I’m not doing my job correctly.” He pushed you onto your back and used his warm hards to spread your already messy thighs. 

He purred seeing the mess he had already made of you. You absolutely dripped with his cum and were still full with it, dripping languidly. He hummed and gathered up the cum that had spilled from you and pushed it back inside of you making you cry out at the sudden intrusion. 

You puffy cunt fluttered at the familiar feeling of his long fingers soothing your insides. You clenched around him making him groan as he slowly and deliberately massaged that special spot inside you that made you whine pathetically and sprawl out for him even more, begging him to play with you. 

Crosshair was always pleased by this reaction. You could feel the approval through the bond. 

He loved making an absolute mess of you especially with the help of his twin. The three of you had something special and you quickly realized they shared a desire to experiment with your body in ways you didn’t even consider. 

“The rain is picking up.” He said softly leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. 

You turned your head to face the window noticing the droplets coming down harder, “Hunter’s going to be soggy by the time he gets back.” 

Crosshair let out a breathy laugh, “I’m sure he’s on his way back. I want you one more time before I’m forced to share you.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully knowing he has absolutely no problem sharing, but you got the picture. 

You ran your fingers over his tight muscular stomach as he settled down between your legs on his haunches. You felt the heat of his hard cock resting against your leaking opening and felt your mouth water. He leaned forwards, letting out a happy huff before cradling your head and shoulder blades lovingly. 

He wanted it soft and sweet… your body warmed. 

With a little playful nip on your part, it made him smirk before leaning forwards and breaching your walls with his stiffened cock. 

You both let out a content sigh being locked together again. The sensation of becoming one was comforting. 

You took solace being under your mates. You knew you were safest in their arms and that feeling never got old.

Crosshair even let a whimper slip out as he slid against your walls feeling your warmth and tightness. The man couldn’t get enough. He’d happy die here just like this, if he got to feel you one last time. 

You fiercely clung to him as he made love to you. He pushed inside rhythmically rubbing your scalp and shoulders lovingly with his work hardened fingers. You grabbed at him as the pleasure spiked and you were beginning to feel yourself twitch around him. 

You couldn’t help but grasp at his growing hair. With a firm hand, you fisted his silky silver strands at his nape making him hum as you tugged deliciously. He shuddered as you mewled into his skin. 

Lost in the essence of Crosshair, you didn’t even hear the front door open. 

“So while I’m getting soaked out in the rain, you two are staying nice and comfortable inside?” Hunter’s playful tone made both you and Crosshair stop your love making to look up at the man standing in the door way. 

He flopped down a dead nexu the size of tech on the kitchen counter with a wet splat. Hunter shook out his hair like a corellian hound letting the water fly everywhere.  

“Just taking care of our girl, vod.” Crosshair continued his lazy thrusts looking up at his older batch-mate, “If you dry off you’re welcome to join us.” His drawl was lust riddled. So much for not wanting to share, you smirked. 

Hunter didn’t have to be told twice. He set down firepuncher on the riffle rack by the front door and yanked off his sloshy boots tossing them into the mud room. 

You giggled watching him trot and disappear into his quarters leaving a wet sock print trail across the floor. 

Crosshair shook his head playfully before resuming your previous activities. His pace picked up and his hand in your hair tugged you back, forcing your chin up where he met your lips with a searing passionate kiss. His hips made a sharp thrust making you cry out into him. His body moved smoothly against yours wringing out the pleasure he so desperately wanted from you, and you melted into his movements, rolling against him in sync meeting him thrust for thrust. 

“Fuck, little one.” He broke the kiss to breathe and nip at your ear. 

“Cross!” You whined feeling yourself starting to tire with your impending orgasm. 

“I can feel you’re close,” He used a hand to help you roll your hips into him, “C’mon omega, cum for me.” 

You knew he was using your designation against you. He knew you’d die before wanting to let him down. Thankfully for your alpha, you were right on the crest and his words pushed you right over the edge. 

You moaned out a broken cry as you writhed against the furs. 

Crosshair smirked before leaning forwards to burry his nose in your neck before spilling inside you with a reserved grunt. 

The sniper stilled, keeping himself buried inside your warmth as he felt you start to come down from the aftershocks with little adorable twitches. He sweetly pushed your hair from your face and pressed little kisses to your nose and forehead. 

Just then Hunter returned, naked as the day he was decanted. 

Even the damp hair made him look fresh out of the tube. You peered over Crosshair to watch him  approach, where he knelt down onto the furs and crawled over to the two of you. 

Immediately you sensed something different through the bond. His lust was stronger than usual and you could tell by the darkened look in his eyes that he was still coming down from the high of the hunt… you could almost taste his adrenaline on your tongue.

You felt your body begin to react on instinct as you bared your neck and his mark to him. Crosshair sat up to pull out of you making a devious sound as he watched the flood of cum pour out of you. You squirmed at the sudden emptiness wishing for him to have stayed. 

You let out a pitiful whine as Hunter practically shoved Crosshair out of the his way before seizing your ankle in his grip and dragged you towards him until you were settled against his lap. 

“Don’t break her.” Crosshair recovered and flopped over into the pile of cushions to watch. 

You squealed liking the way Hunter man handled you, and reminded you of his superior strength.  You continued to bare your neck and arch your back showing him your belly as an offering of submission. 

Hunter scented your arousal making him give you a mischievous smirk. 

You blushed realizing how obvious the change in your scent was. You sighed, you couldn’t hide anything from the tracker. He had all your scents memorized down to the fine details. 

Crosshair flopped over to the side pulling a blanket over his lap and settled into the cushions. They had proven very necessary during the group sessions, and you were more than happy to have such a massive and plush nest to call your own. You looked over at the sniper and bit your lip, you still loved knowing he was always watching you. It made your heart flutter as he gave you a heated smile. 

Hunter gained your attention again by pushing both of your knees up to your chest roughly and putting your ruined cum-covered pussy on full display for him. You could feel Crosshair oozing out of you and down the crack of your ass as Hunter pushed your legs further up. 

You chewed your bottom lip as he looked at you. He loved you like this. Already lost to the lust, soft and pliant. You were always more bendable after your first round anyways. 

Hunter liked to put you in some unique positions now that you all had more time to explore one another. But this time it seemed that he wanted you close. 

He wanted the passion that Crosshair had charged the air with. 

In an instant, he had you up and bent over at the waist with your face pushed into the furs. 

He pressed your spine downwards putting you in a perfect presenting position making you cry out. 

You heard him making an approving grunt as he looked at your perfect trembling form before wasting no more time before he surged forwards and breached your opening before sliding all the way flush until he was nudged up against your cervix. 

You cried out pushing against him, but he pinned you down firmly. 

His thrusts were near animalistic as he rutted into you. Your hands flailed against his thighs trying to find purchase but he didn’t let up. His hands firmly grabbed onto your hips pulling you back onto him like you were nothing more than a toy. 

You squealed as he continued to push against your cervix like he was trying to knot you through sheer will. 

As you tried to sit up, he shoved you back down again and barked out an order to stay still. You whimpered and willed yourself to relax into his punishing pace as he took you. 

Briefly, you heard Crosshair’s dark chuckle from over on the couch as you were forced into submission.

Fuck, you loved when Hunter finally let go of his responsible self and let the inner wolf emerge. Whatever the Kaminoans enhanced him with definitely had a darker wild side. Tech speculated this after the incident on Crait. But now that you’ve had more quality time with the ex-sargent, you knew he had quite the hunter/prey kink. 

You saw the way his eyes had dilated when Crosshair had told him about the chase through the woods on Naboo. The way you could feel his insides stirring and his lust for the chase trickle through the bond. 

You knew exactly what to do in order to get Hunter to fuck you like an animal, and thats exactly what you wanted. 

The arm pinning your shoulders to the floor suddenly lifted and a rough hand was snapped around the back of your neck where he yanked you up and forced you into a deep arch as he brought your ear closer to his mouth. 

Your arms scrambled at the air trying to find something to support you on, but Hunter held you in his grasp like a limp tooka. 

“M’perfect little’mega.” His words were slurred as he lowly rumbled into your ear. You felt his fangs brush up against your ear and you moaned at the sensation, “Could mate you all over again and breed this little cunt.” 

You gasped at his words and brought your arms up and behind you to grapple at his body to support yourself. 

“Pump you full till your round with my pups.” He growled making you absolutely vibrate. It didn’t take long for your inner omega to come to life and purr against your alpha. 

He hummed in delight, “You like that ‘mega?” He slithered a hand down between your legs to find your clit and start rubbing little circles that made you clench down on him. 

You’ve never heard any of them mention pups before. Well aside from Crosshair but that was because of external circumstances. 

This was different, you could feel Hunter’s want to breed you through the bond. It was as strong as your connection, and you knew in this moment thats what his inner alpha craved. The man wanted to be a father, he wanted you in a way that comforted your omega and you absolutely melted into him. 

You nodded vigorously making him smile wolfishly as he resume his lethal pounding. 

You moaned and cried out taking everything Hunter was giving you, before he released your neck and you fell forwards onto your hands as he then lifted and bent one of his legs for support to reach even deeper inside of you. You clenched down around him twitching and fighting against the overstimulation as he kept playing with your clit. 

You weakly lifted your head and looked at Crosshair with bleary eyes which he returned with a heady smirk. 

Hunter leaned down whispering, “Your next heat, you’re mine… I’m going to fuck a pup into you, little one, just like this.” He thrusted roughly making you yelp. 

You felt yourself nearing your orgasm, and suddenly your forearms gave out before you collapsed into the furs and screamed as you came. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as pure ecstasy overtook your entire body. 

That sensation must have traveled through the bond because Hunter came with a loud grunt after you, filling your pussy to the absolute brim. With a small push of his hips, your combined cum oozed out the sides around his cock making him push small little thrusts inside you despite both of your overstimulation. 

When Hunter dismounted you, you collapsed into a boneless heap with a deflated huff. 

Crosshair tossed a clean towel at his brother and watched as Hunter nudged you over onto your back where he cleaned you up diligently before throwing the used towel somewhere to the side. 

“I’m going to start the fresher.” Hunter sounded half delirious as he stood up on wobbly feet before setting his course for the bathroom. 

You only had a moment alone before Crosshair was at your side to give you some much needed cuddles. 

You could almost feel his mischievous little smile as you blinked your eyes open to look up at him. 

“What?” You asked closing your eyes again. 

You felt his hand slide over the top of your rib before lightly cupping the side of your breast before squeezing lightly. 

“Nothing.”

You heard his smile making you crack an eye open at him suspiciously. 

He rolled his eyes playfully, “I felt you through the bond, ad’ika… You want Hunter to breed you.” 

You squirmed, “Don’t say it like that.” 

He chuckled, “Okay fine, you want Hunter to knock you up?” 

You gasped and feigned offense, “Crosshair…”

“He’s starting to give me ideas.” His fingers pinched your nipple making you arch your back before traveling south where he lightly tickled over your belly. 

“Stop triggering my instincts.” You fussed and pouted. 

His fingers went back to your tit to play with your nipple again, “You like when I trigger your instincts.” He smiled wolfishly. 

You huffed letting him continue his onslaught onto your sensitive tits as he bent down to kiss and suck on them making you mewl and press even further into his attentions. 

“Personally, I want a girl, mesh’la.” He released your poor nipple and looked up at you with a mischievous glint. 

You felt your heart accelerate and your breathing shallow. Crosshair wanted a girl? You had to fight back the giddy grin as you looked up at him. Your mind instantly went to thinking about a little platinum blonde, fiery girl running around and clinging to your mate calling him daddy. 

You literally felt your pussy flutter wanting to make that daydream a reality right this minute. 

Then your thoughts went to a sweet and pouty brunette with Hunter’s soft eyes. Her dark wavy hair cascading down her shoulders, and that signature cross-arm scowl her father always sports.

You had to take a deep breath and shake your head forcing the inner omega out of your field of thoughts. 

His mischievous smile widened realizing that your instincts had been in fact triggered. 

You scowled at him and smacked his shoulder making him laugh. 

“I told you to stop it!” You smirked pushing him back as you sat up. 

“I can’t help it ad’ika.” He purred, “Your eyes get all dilated and cute.” 

You huffed. 

Hunter returned crawling back into the nest before he bent down to pluck you up into his arms before carrying you into the steaming wash room. 

“He plays, but his words are true.” Hunter said lowly as he opened the fresher door sitting you down gently on the warm stone floor. 

“You heard all that?” You smirked. 

He just tapped his ears making you smile and roll your eyes. 

“Is it true?” He asked with hopeful raised brows, “You want pups?” 

He couldn’t help the hand that drifted to your belly as you both stood under the stream of hot water. 

Your entire body flushed at the touch. 

“I-I… u-uhh yeah… yeah I think I do.” You struggled to speak and meet his soft grey brown eyes, “I like that idea.” 

Hunter’s face lit up. He smiled brining you into a searing kiss. You moaned leaning into him letting your hands wanter all over his broad shoulders and back. 

Hunter broke the kiss to press his forehead against yours before placing a gentle forehead kiss on your skin. 

He grabbed the sponge and some soap before lathering you up and beginning his little routine of cleaning you off. You turned obediently leaning against him as he brought the sponge over your front being careful of your tender neck before dragging it down over your love bitten breasts. You bit your tongue as he brushed over your sensitive nipples. 

“Of course we’d have to talk to the others. But I’m confident Crosshair is on board.” Hunter drawled nuzzling your neck affectionately. 

“How would that even work?” You giggled as he practically tickled your sides with the sponge and he cleaned, “Three of you would have to abstain for probably month in order to line up my fertility cycle.” You mused thinking about all the medical windows you’d have to ensure pregnancy. 

“Alright, little miss doctor brain. I can hear you overthinking” Hunter chuckled, “We’ll talk about it and see how everyone feels.” 

You turned to face your mate, “Are you planning on knocking me up first, since you’re the oldest?” You poked fun at him. 

“Oh, I’m definitely pulling rank in this situation.” He smirked dragging the sponge over your back and ass. 

You hummed a laugh letting him finish up his scrubbing routine before turning to wash himself with the clean scented soap. 

You sat under the stream of water enjoying the warmth as you watched Hunter finish up his hygiene routine. 

Then you both heard a noise enter the bathroom. 

“Hurry up!” Crosshair barked turning on the faucet to throw water on his face, “I’m covered in dried cum, and you two are going to use up all the hot water.” 

You giggled turning to the ex-sergeant. Hunter just shrugged with a smile before rinsing off the soap and shutting off the fresher. 

You opened the door to find Crosshair standing here with his arms crossed as you toweled off with Hunter. 

“Finally.” He drawled before stepping inside and resuming the water flow. 

“Rex is coming today with more supplies,” You reminded, “I need to go to the lab to finish a few more things before they arrive.” 

“Hmm I don’t know mesh’la I think you’re technically still under Crosshair’s charge for the next few hours and it seems to be most imperative that you remain here with us. Right Cross?” Hunter shook out his hair making you squeal as droplets hit your skin. 

“Affirmative.” Crosshair replied from inside the fresher. 

You crossed your arms, “Guys, I need to finish this if you even want to consider having pups, you know.” 

That got them. 

Silence. 

Hunter sighed and relented, “Fine, but at midnight, you’re mine mesh’la.” 

“Yes sir.” You mock saluted before skipping out of the fresher to find your clothes. 

Fishing around inside your drawers, you pull out a sweater one of the omegas in the village had knitted for you along with a pair of modified uniform pants. 

You pulled the articles of clothing on and made sure to towel dry your hair the best you could knowing Tech would fuss about you catching a cold in the rain. 

Then came the holster that Hunter made you swear you’d never leave the house without and the pistol you still had from the GAR days. 

Just as you were about to re-enter the living room, Gonky waddled in hooting and hollering about incoming air vessels. 

“Friends?” Hunter asked grabbing his blaster. 

Gonky honked. 

“It’s Rex!” You were elated. 

You jogged to the mud room to yank on your boots along with your rain coat and the matching hat from the hook on the wall. 

“Do you think Echo is with him?” You wondered out loud. 

Hunter meandered into the kitchen tugging at the fresh nexu to start cleaning the meat, “I’m sure mesh’la, Echo wouldn’t miss coming to say hi.” 

Your excitement peaked and you practically kicked the door open to skip down the steps to trudge through the mud to get to the base camp. 

On your way down the hill, you passed by the shaak barn where Wrecker and Tech were busy assembling the new fence. 

“Hi Wrek! Hi Tech!” You hollered and gave them a wave before continuing on down towards the village. 

“Darling, aren’t you supposed to be inside with Cross?” Tech squinted through his goggles watching you cross the property. 

“Rex is here!” You replied with a smile, “He has the last ingredient for the serum!” 

“Okay, but just stay out of the rain you’ll catch a c-“ Tech began but you cut him off. 

“I know! I know!” You yelled out as you got further away, “I promise to stay dry!” 

You knew Tech wanted to discuss this topic further, blah, blah, blah, you didn’t care. You were excited for so many reasons. For one, you haven’t seen them in weeks, and second, you were receiving the shipment of a recovered serum made by Nala Se. The substance was a vile of microscopic DNA repairing robots who could deliver the serum you created to the clones in mass numbers. This would solve everything. You couldn’t be more elated. 

Before you knew it, you heard four sets of footsteps trailing behind you and you knew it was your alphas being diligent with guarding you. You giggled knowing Tech was probably already fussing about ways to keep you out of the rain as he approached. 

Once you reached the growing village, you scampered down the steps reaching the center of town where the new space ports were being set up. 

With a few other clones, you all gathered waiting to see the ships descend from the cloudy skies. 

You felt the presence of your alphas surround you, as Tech wrapped you in a second rain cloak that had a massive hood. You smiled up at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He was satisfied with this level of rain protection and returned to his post at your side. 

“They’re incoming now.” Hunter must have heard the engines. 

Before you knew it, two cargo ships pushed through the clouds and descended gracefully down towards the town. 

Bolts emerged from his domicile along with his little mate who was a few months pregnant. They waved to you and you waved back as he clearly had almost as much excitement as you. 

When the first ship touched down, the loading deck lowered down and more clones excited the vessel. You searched every one of them until you spotted a familiar face. 

“Rex!” You sprinted forwards dodging the strangers before you threw yourself at your old captain. He smiled before embracing you. 

“Good to see you kid.” He mumbled., 

You squeezed him extra hard, “Where have you been! It’s been weeks!” 

A gruff voice replied, “Looking for this.” 

You looked up from Rex’s chest before turning to find Wolfee standing there holding a glowing blue vile in his fingers. 

“Commander!” You said warmly, allowing him to pull you into a hug too. 

You heard a disapproving growl behind you knowing it was one of your boys. 

Wolfee chuckled, “They still treating you alright?” 

You smiled, “Yes, Wolffe.” 

“Good.” He smiled warmly. 

“I’m never going to get used to seeing that.” Bolts said walking up and clapping his old commander on the back. 

Soon, Stunner and Grim emerged surrounding you like rowdy pups. 

“Seeing what?” Grim asked playfully messing with you. 

“Commander smiling.” Bolts joked. 

Wolffe scowled making Rex chuckle. 

“Much better.” Bolts nodded. 

“Commander.” Hunter walked up greeting the commander. 

“Sergent.” Wolffe politely nodded. 

You shook your head, even after everything you all went through these knuckle heads were still butting heads. 

“Crosshair.” He nodded to the sniper. 

“Wolffe.” Crosshair gave him a nod which only meant one thing from the sniper… a sign of respect. 

A nearly impossible exclusive club to be in by the way. 

Wolffe handed him the blue vile you’ve been waiting months for. 

“I hear tiny!” Echo’s voice came from the ship. 

Your pack mate walked down the loading dock making a beeline for you. 

“You’re not allowed to leave us anymore.” You whined jumping up to hug him. 

“Well someone has to retrieve rare medical specimens around here.” He joked. 

You shook your head and shoved him lightly. 

He then looked at you more seriously, “I have another surprise for you.” 

You quirked a brow, “What?” 

You were suddenly taken off your feet in a flurry of pink fluff. 

You landed with a thud and looked up to see a squealing familiar face. 

“Layla?!” 

“Y/N!” She screamed and the two of you rolled around on the floor much to Tech’s chagrin. 

“Is that the medic from Coruscant?” Crosshair asked with a scrutinizing look. 

Echo nodded. 

“Where have you been?” She squeaked and demanded. 

“It’s a long story.” You shook your head, “How the hell did you find Rex?” 

“Echo found me.” She said, “He still had Fives’ secured line. He pulled me out of Coruscant a week ago.” 

You sat up bringing her up with you. 

“Hi boys.” She waved at your mates. 

They grunted in response. 

Then she narrowed her eyes before looking down at you. She straddled you and began sniffing around your face clearly looking for something. 

“Layla…” Echo sighed. 

He leaned forwards practically nuzzling your neck before he reached a hand inside your sweater collar and yanked the fabric back to see not one but two bite scars. She gasped, “You’re mated?!” 

You nodded, “Mhmm.” 

She screamed again making Hunter flinch. 

“Oh my gods! How long? When? Where?” The she smirked, “Was it good?” 

You could have died on the spot. You suddenly felt like you were back in 79’s being grilled about your sex life in front of Hunter in that damn booth. 

“Layla!” You whimpered wanting to disappear into the floor with so many of your friends staring back at you.

“It was wasn’t it?” She raised a brow waggling them playfully. 

“I like her.” Grim said. 

Echo clapped him on the back, “Join the club.” 

“Okay, as heart warming as this all is, I want to get my mate out of the cold.” Hunter said bending down to help you up to your feet. 

“Well there’s one more thing.” Layla said suddenly getting serious, “We weren’t sure what to do and knew you’d probably be the best chance.” 

Your interest was peaked, “What is it?” 

Everyone turned to face the ship and down came a few clones pushing what looked like a metal slab towards you. 

When you approached it you quickly realized it was a slab of carbonite. 

“What?” You whispered dragging your fingers over the cold material. 

Upon closer inspection to realized there was a human frozen inside, and not any human, a clone. 

“Who is this?” You asked looking up. 

Rex then stepped forwards and lowered his eyes, “It’s Kix.” 

Your eyes filled with alarm as you looked back at the slab. 

Layla continued, “I’m just a nurse, I wasn’t sure what would be the best method for something like this.” 

You nodded, “Smart. I can treat him up at the lab. Can someone take him there? I need to do this as soon as possible.” 

The two clones continued to push the carbonite slab through the town being guided by Bolts. 

“How long are you all staying?” You asked urgently. 

“We have supplies to off load which will take a few days, and were working on a new lead with an imperial clone prison were hoping to attack but that intel could take months to verify.” Rex replied. 

You nodded, “Good. I’m hoping to have the serum done in the next few days and I want you all here to receive the dose.” 

Rex nodded, “I look forward to it.

You gave him a curt smile, “Let me look after Kix and then I’ll let you all know about the cure.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Take care of him, kid.” 

“You know I will.” You looked to your friend, “I’ll need your help.”

“Of course.” Layla smiled following your lead. 

Crosshair handed you the vile before trailing after you towards the lab outside of town. 

~

“Alright I’ll need everyone waiting to help me get him into the med pod once he’s thawed out.” You instructed. 

Crosshair, Layla, Echo, Tech, and Rex stood around you and the slab of carbonite while the others waited just outside the medical cabin. 

You knelt down to start punching in the right code to start the thawing process and stood back up to watch as the shipping slab started to glow an eerie red. 

You waited with baited breath as Layla reached over for your hand as you watched the carbonite slowly melt away. 

Slowly, Kix’s hand started to flex before the rest of him was revealed. Once the process was complete Layla let go of you to lean forward and help the boys raise their brother up out of the slab and onto the med pod bed. 

“H-Hello?” Kix’s worried voice quivered into the air, “I-I can’t see.” 

“It’s carbonite sickness. Don’t worry Kix, you’ll be okay in a bit.” You replied softly. 

“Tiny?” He asked trying to locate the source of your voice. 

You leaned forwards and pressed your wrist to his nose to let him scent you, “Right here, Kix.” 

He crinkled his nose, “You smell funny.” 

“I’ll explain that when you get your site back. Echo’s here and Rex.” You responded softly. 

“And Layla.” She purred. 

That got Kix’s attention. 

You giggled stepping away from the med pod. 

Rex pulled you aside letting the others wrap him in knitted blankets and wool sweaters. 

“He seems fine, but do you think the chip was activated?” Rex’s expression was slightly hesitant. 

“I think he was already frozen when the order was given. But I’ll remove it as soon as he’s stable for good measure.” You nodded in Kix’s direction. 

Rex was satisfied with this. 

“How long do you think he’ll take to see again?” The captain asked looking a little frazzled. 

You placed a hand on is forearm in a calming gesture, “Just a couple hours. Maybe even faster with your special genetics. He’ll be fine Rex.” 

Rex nodded. You couldn’t imagine what the poor captain was going through. His last man. 

Well technically no, with Echo being the last domino, but regardless Kix was one of the oldest friend to everyone. You were happy you at least had one member from your first pack left and standing. 

Kix was getting comfortable as Layla combed through his hair with her nails and Echo tucked him in with the blankets. Echo knew a thing or two about being on ice. He was handling all of this like a champ which made you proud of your friend. You felt tears welling up in your eyes with all the sudden emotion.

“When will the serum be ready?” Rex asked gaining your attention again. 

You quickly wiped away the wetness on your cheek, “Uhh. Any day now. That vile is the last ingredient. I’ll have you all on a natural biological clock before you have to ship out.” 

Rex sighed looking at the bundle of 501st curling up with one another comforting Kix. 

You looked at your captain, “You’re not leaving?” You felt a spark of hope. 

“I-I thought my vision was clear… Save as many of our brother as I can. Then I might consider settling down.” 

“You’re human too Rex. And you all are much more than soldiers. I understand wanting to help the others, but you’ve been in this fight longer than most of them. Can’t you let Wolffe and Howzer handle the day to day operations for a little and you can slow down just a bit?” You gestured to Kix, “He’s going to need his captain. He’s waking up in an entirely different world. It’s going to take some adjusting, familiar faces are necessary.” You were trying to give him an out. It was an out he seemed to need. 

Processing your words he nodded, “I guess there’s no harm in delaying my departure…” 

You squealed and tackled him in the biggest hug you could muster. He grunted before welcoming you into him. 

“I promise you’ll like it here.” You said into his armor, “Wrecker can cook up a mean shaak roast, ooo! You can stay with us! I have to find you a sweater!” 

He chuckled, “No offense, but I know what you and your mates get up to. I’d rather get some sleep without hearing all that.” 

You slapped him playfully. 

He smiled. 

“I’m still finding you a sweater.” You poked his arm through a gap in the plastoid before returning back to your mates. 

Tech turned to look down at you along with his twin.

“I’m going to stay and work on this,” You held up the vile, “I’ll be back at the house later, okay?” 

“Dinner.” Crosshair pointed his toothpick at you, “or Hunter will worry.” 

“I know…” You nodded before turning to your private  research lab. 

“Do you need assistance?” Tech asked following behind you closely. 

“I’m alright, love. But thank you.” You smiled up at him. He had been paramount in your research helping you bounce ideas off of him when you felt most overwhelmed. You wouldn’t have been able to get this far so quickly without him and his massive brain. 

“Im proud of you, cyare.” He cupped your jaw affectionately, “I find myself more and more in love with you every day. You’re brilliant, darling.” 

You flustered looking down at his green henley covered chest, “…alpha…” 

He closed the distance and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look up at his deep inquisitive eyes, “I should have realized sooner.” He was referring to when you first joined their squad during the war, “I didn’t know you had such a beautiful mind locked away up here.” He tapped your skull, “The GAR could have never appreciated it in its entirely, but we can.” 

Your heart stuttered as his words melted your insides. 

“I’m incredibly thankful you decided to enlist. I never told you that. While we may not have had a choice in our servitude, you joining us made everyday a little better. Enjoyable even.” Tech rubbed your skin with his thumb. 

“Tech…” You sighed leaning into his touch, “I’m so happy I was placed with you. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” 

His mouth quirked up into a half smile. 

“Go on.” He released you to let you tinker in your lab, “Save our entire population from accelerated aging.” He waved around playfully. 

He turned to leave, “If it works out, you could probably sell it on the black market for an exorbitant price and get a second greenhouse.” 

That made you laugh. 

“Don’t forget dinner!” He called after you leaving you alone. 

You nodded and turned to roll up your sweater sleeves and get to work. 

You took a deep breath, you could do this. 

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the blue vile and walked over to the workstation to sit down and pul out your data pad that you plugged into the dna synthesizer machine. 

One of the slots popped open and you slipped the blue vile inside before closing the compartment and hearing the machine whirl to life. 

You have the internal droid instructions to take a small sample to test and opened up your notes to start documenting your findings. 

This process might take a while… 

You settled in and began documenting your data. 

~

Well it’s certainly past dinner. 

Hunter sighed grabbing a big bowl of nexu stew and a spoon, “Hey Wreck can you grab a few blankets and another bowl of soup?” 

“Yeah!” He hopped up following the instructions and together they bundled up before taking it outside to the medical lodge. 

“Is she pulling an all-nighter again?” Wrecker asked. 

“Nope.” Hunter decided. 

Wrecker quirked a brow before shaking the expression off and pushing open the lodge door. 

Inside, Layla and Echo lay in the medical pod bed, sleeping awkwardly as Kix snuggled between them. Echo was practically bent over the side of the bed while Layla lay upside down with her feet hanging off the side of the cot.

Hunter gestured for Wrecker to cover them in blankets to keep them all warm and he set down the bowl of soup for Kix to eat when he wakes up. 

Hunter continued onwards pushing open the glass door to find you slumped over your desk with your face in your data pad dead asleep. 

He shook his head with a smile before folding a blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders. He knew you were uncomfortable in that position but he couldn’t bring himself to wake you. 

He set the bowl on the desk before flopping down on the lounger on the wall across the lab. 

Just as he settled down as well, the giant machine on your desk hissed and beeped causing you to gasp and sit up suddenly. 

You blinked rapidly forcing yourself awake unaware of your visitor. 

You stood up letting the blanket fall off of you as you leaned over to read the report. 

With a bit of eye rubbing and forced concentration, you suddenly shrieked with joy causing the entire lodge to wake up. 

“I did it!” You jumped up and down, “I did it!” 

Hunter cleared his throat making you spin around to face him a bit shocked at his ability to sneak around still. 

“Hunter!” You put. Hand over your heart, “You scared me.” 

“You missed dinner.” He smiled sweetly. 

“I-oh… sorry.” You looked at the clock seeing it was getting close to midnight. 

“It’s alright mesh’la.” He tilted his chin to the beeping machine, “Have you got what you’re looking for?” 

Your excitement was evident as you nodded and grabbed your data pad to read the results. It was a success. The machine was able to replicate exactly the recipe Nala Se had created. You were vibrating with excitement. 

“I did it, alpha.”  You heard the machine putz and pop out a vile of clear liquid. You picked it up inspecting it, “This will cure the rapid aging.” 

Hunter looked at you with hope and about five other amazed emotiones. 

You chewed your lip as he stood up towering over you. 

You set the vile down on the desk knowing exactly what that look meant… 

It was his night after all…

~

“I’ll volunteer.” Rex said pragmatically. Ever the leader. 

“Me too.” Wolffe nodded. 

“Are you certain you wish to be the first?” Tech examined the vials of synthesized serum. 

“We aren’t sure what the side effects may be.” You looked back over Nala Se’s notes. There was nothing about side effects listed in her notes so you were a bit hesitant. You weren’t sure if this was going to be painful for them.

Firs thing this morning, they had nearly busted down the lodge door after hearing the news of your success. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Rex crossed his arms, “You need to test it on one of us, and we’re here, offering.” 

You nodded. 

“I just want you to be prepared for the fact that none of us know how this is going to react. It might hurt.” You explained. 

“We’ve been through worse.” Wolffe said gruffly. 

You sighed, “Okay.” 

Just then, the door to the lodge opened and in came Howzer. He looked sharp. Clean shaven, hair washed and damp from the rain, along with his all black civvies. 

You had to calm your heart a bit. His presence still made you a little nervous despite your silent understanding. You hadn’t said a word to him since Teth. It was awkward to say the least. 

“You need another lab rat?” He asked rolling up his sleeves. 

“Captain.” You nodded formally. 

He just raised a brow before settling in next to Wolffe. He clearly wasn’t prepared for your formality. 

“We don’t know the side effects.” You disclosed. 

“Fine with me.” He nodded. 

You finally relented with a sigh before turning to grab the vials and loaded one into your injector gun. 

“Who’s first?” You asked. 

Rex stepped forwards rolling up the sweater he borrowed from Tech. 

You sterilized the skin on his arm before pressing the gun forwards and pulling the trigger injecting him with the serum. The man didn’t even flinch or make a sound as the vial emptied. 

You pressed a tissue to the wound before emptying out the cartridge before loading in the second. 

Wolffe then stepped forwards pulling off his vambrace to reveal the sleeve of his blacks. He yanked the fabric back giving you access to his caramel skin. You cleaned the sight before repeating the action. 

Once you got to Howzer, he tugged up the sleeve silently understanding the process. 

As you neared him, you could feel his burning gaze upon you. 

It was alarming to remember how intense he was. He reminded you of Wolffe in a lot of ways. Younger, but still, the energy was so similar. Howzer was an intense man too. One of the reasons why you had gravitated towards Howzer all those moons ago. He was a good alpha, and a fantastic lover. The memory of his touch made you heat slightly. You prayed your cheeks didn’t redden being this close to him. You noticed the familiar tattoos on his forearm that made you shiver. 

You remembered mouthing at that skin in the throws of your heats. The taste of his skin suddenly recollected to the front of your mind. 

It was like he knew exactly what you were thinking of and you noticed the sly smirk he tried to disguise on his lip. 

You forced yourself to take a breath willing yourself to calm. 

His scent was far too familiar, too intimate…

Pressing the gun to his forearm, you swallowed thickly ignoring his piercing gaze. You remained professional until you handed him the tissue to clean the bead of blood. 

You heard him inhale deeply trying to catch a glimpse of your scent, but he scrunched his nose clearly not liking the smell. It had been altered after all. 

And you knew how much he liked you smelling like him… 

You dared to look up at him, and his distaste quickly morphed into a much softer gaze. 

“Y/N…” He whispered, but you ignored him. 

You turned back to the table to set down the injector and pull off your gloves. 

“Okay, everyone stay here so I can observe your vitals. I have to check on Kix.” You said giving them a polite smile before leaving them. 

You let out the breath you had been holding before walking over to Kix’s medical pod. He was still sleeping. Poor guy. You were certain his exhaustion was from the carbonite sickness, his body had been through quite the ordeal. 

You all still had no idea how he even ended up in that situation but that was for later. 

Right now, you needed to scan his vitals again. 

Layla heard you enter the room and raised her head from the cot. She must have been folded over the side of the mattress with her arms folded as a pillow for some time now. 

“Hey.” She croaked waking up. 

“Hey.” You smiled grabbing the scanner on the side table, “Has he woken at all?” 

She huffed, “Once last night. But then he conked out again.” 

You approached the other side off the bed where you brushed back his hair to tilt his head to the side to place the scanner on his neck. 

When the scanner beeped, you looked at the readings, “He’s in perfect health. I’m hoping he wakes up soon.” 

Layla hummed before standing to stretch, “I need to wash up and change. Where can I do that?” 

“We have a shower here in the clinic, but you’re welcome to go back to our place. Just let one of the boys know. They get a little  territorial over the bathroom.” 

Layla huffed a laugh before nodding to grab her duffle. 

She was walking to the in-clinic bathroom when she suddenly called out for you. 

“What?” You shuffled into the main exam room to find Layla scanning Rex. 

“I think they’re feeling a bit drowsy.” Layla said helping Rex lay down. 

You checked the data pad as Wolffe and Howzer both slumped over. Their readings were all ok.

Layla was right they were just drowsy. 

You ordered a few medical droids to keep a constant reading on them as they got comfortable. Layla quickly helped you throw some blankets on them before leaving them all to their little cat nap. 

“I got Kix, you get cleaned up and comfortable.” You ordered to Layla who nodded and continued on to the ensuite bathroom. 

You took a brief moment to run your fingers carefully over Howzer’s forehead feeling the warmth of his skin. You shuddered as your fingers felt the firmness of his cheekbones and defined jaw. His eyes remained peacefully closed as he slept, and you helped tilt his head back onto the pillow to keep him comfortable. 

Your heart ached with fondness for the alpha, at one point you had believed he was the one for you. You couldn’t help but be greedy and lean down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. With a shudder, you stood back up and pushed his hair from his face. 

The clone looked peaceful, no scowl, no stress, and no worries. He looked almost boyish in this state. 

You couldn’t help the saddened smile that crept up on your lip. It pained you to know that he was probably still hurt. 

You whispered, “I’m sorry Howz… I didn’t think all of this would have gone the way it has. The force works in mysterious ways.” You continued to play with his hair, “You took such good care of me and your men. I’ll never forget my time with you on Ryloth. You’re a good alpha Howz, and a good man.” 

You sighed and pulled the hand woven blanket up to his chin, tucking him in and making sure he stays warm. 

Then you turned to return back to your work.

~~~

A few hours later, the boys had all come baring gifts of comfort. They fed you, gave you enough time to quickly change and shower while they watched Kix, before you returned to curl up on the lounger Wrecker dragged inside. Tech held you closely, giving you little pets on your head as you rested against his warm beating chest. 

Layla also had curled up on another cot the boys dragged in next to Echo as everyone got some much needed rest. 

Tech was the only one still awake as he kept dutiful watch from the lounger letting you, his little omega, get some much needed sleep. 

On the other side of the room, he heard Kix shift a little in his sleep. Tech pushed back his goggles, before perking up to observe the reg. 

Then in an instantaneous flash, Kix sat up ram rod straight, and screaming, “Dooku! It was Dooku!” 

Everyone in the room jolted awake violently reaching for their weapons. 

Kix screamed and groaned as the lights seemed to agitate him. He tried standing up, but knocked over a med droid, and a few items on the table. 

You shot up trying to rush over to him before he destroyed the whole lab. 

“Ahh!” He cried out, “Get away!” He punched the droid sending the unit flying into the wall. 

“Kix!” You tried to get his attention but he seemed to be manic. He wasn’t hearing you.

“Y/N, be careful.” Tech stood to try and put himself between you and the agitated soldier. 

“Kix!” Layla and Echo chimed in raising their hands trying to calm him. 

“Brother!” Echo stepped forwards taking the brunt of his hits and forced him into a tight embrace, “Vod!”

“I-I swear I just wanted to help!” Kix whimpered, “I wanted to help Fives!”

Echo suddenly shuddered, “Kix, you’re okay. You’re safe. Look around.” 

Kix heaved trying to ground himself. He burrowed into Echo’s front, scenting his familiar brother. 

The medic was finally starting to calm down as he blinked rapidly trying to adjust to the lights. He then bristled as a soft hand scratched against his back making him turn to look at Layla who was standing next to him a little moon eyed and startled. 

You checked the time seeing it was three past midnight. 

The two got him settled back in before you checked his vitals one last time to confirm he was indeed okay. 

“Where am I?” He asked looking a bit dazed. 

Echo pulled one of the colorful blankets over Kix’s legs. 

“You’re on Zyphor. We have a settlement here with just us, and a few clones.” You said. 

“W-what happened?” He asked pulling the blanket up. 

“It’s been over a year, Kix,” Echo began, “We just found you in carbonite, we were hoping you might be able to fill us in on a few things.” 

Kix looked to you, noticing how close Tech was to you and he squinted his eyes suspiciously. 

He then looked to his brother, “I-I tried to warn everyone. I tried to tell Skywalker. I confirmed Five’s theory and ran tests on the inhibitor chips inside Tup’s head. But, when I told the long necks… I was suddenly moved to a different location. I remember seeing Dooku, and then it was nothing…” He shook his head trying to put the pieces together. 

“I don’t want to distress you any further Kix, but I feel like you should know.” Echo cleaner his throat trying to fight off his own emotions, “But Fives, was killed. Palpatine told him everything, it sent him into a frenzy and then he was killed by the guard.” 

Kix’s face morphed into deep sadness, “Fives is dead?” 

Echo’s expression fell and he nodded solemnly. 

“I didn’t warn Skywalker.” Kix shook his head, “I should have gone straight to him instead of the long necks.” 

“They were in on it.” You sighed, “They helped to create the entire war for Palpatine.” 

Kix leaned back into the bed looking up at the ceiling, “W-where is everyone else?” 

“The Jedi were executed.” Echo filled him in, “And then the entire 501st company went down in a ship crash when they turned on Rex and Soka.” 

“Everyone?” Kix was in disbelief. 

Echo nodded. 

“Kriff.” Kix rubbed at his eyes. 

You all remained there in slightly uncomfortable silence as Kix processed everything. 

Tech guided you back into his side and you nuzzled into him. 

Kix groaned, “And that! Someone explain that!” He gestured to you and Tech, “I thought you were being tailed by Commander Wolffe or the 99 Sergeant! You were practically fucking in the hangar bay last I saw you!” 

Tech growled possessively. 

“Oh man.” Echo chuckled, “You’ve missed a lot.” 

“I wasn’t quick enough to the draw.” Wolffe emerged into the doorway looking tussled from sleep. His famous scowl was only emphasized by his sleepiness and his ruffled hair.

“Neither was I.” Howzer stepped up next to Wolffe rubbing his eyes. You felt your stomach flip. Maker above. Having all these alphas in this space was making you antsy. 

Tech was nearly vibrating trying to remain civil as he held a protective grasp on you. 

“Captain Howzer?” Kix was disbelief, “I haven’t seen you since you were in my tent on Ryloth.”

Howzer chuckled, “Yeah it’s been a while vod. How ya feeling?” 

“Like shit.” Kix laughed. 

Layla held up a water cup forcing him to drink something. He looked at her with mesmerized eyes. She smiled sweetly as offered him some more which he gladly gulped down. 

Kix swallowed and turned back to you, “Last time I saw you, you had just gone into heat because of Sergeant grumps.” He joked. 

You sighed, “Kix, there’s something else-“ 

“What’s going on in here?” Hunter and Crosshair walked past Wolffe and Howzer giving the both of them a terse look. 

Ugh the damn bond. Probably felt Tech fuming through it. 

“Tiny, was just explaining to everyone why she’s mated to Tech.” Echo drawled. 

Hunter and Crosshair both raised a brow. 

“Well, not just myself. But also my batch mates.” Tech replied for clarification. 

Crosshair saddled up to your other side sandwiching you between himself and his twin. 

You smiled awkwardly at Kix as you watched him go slack jaw. 

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“H-how is that even possible?” He was trying to recall all his knowledge on the lupine genders and behavior patterns he was forced to study as a cadet. 

Wolffe nodded in their direction, “That little omega is a rare variant of our sub-species who can have an unlimited amount of alpha partners. Empire found out, captured her, and my entire garrison, then they imprisoned us in a breeding facility with the sniper, and tried to clone her to create a few army with all of us and our offspring. Rex and the boys came to our rescue. Blew up the base and brought us here.” 

Wolffe’s casual tone had Kix absolutely flabbergasted. It was like he was recounting a mission report with his level headedness. 

“Who tried to breed you?” Kix was properly enraged. 

“The Empire.” You squeaked feeling the heat rising in your face. 

“The Empire…” He repeated like that was common knowledge. 

“The Chancellor over threw the senate and the republic and created the galactic empire.” Echo explained. 

“What. The. Fuck.” Kix shook his head. You were sure he had a million questions swirling around in his head. 

“But that doesn’t explain that you’re mated?” He pointed at you again. 

“Well that happened during a drug induced haze that made me bite Crosshair which in turn he bit me back.” You replied, “Then the others happened shortly after that.” 

“You were in a relationship this whole time?” He was aghast, “I thought you were with Howzer?” 

Hunter and Crosshair snarled.

“Well, not really…” You tried to placate your mates, “That didn’t happen until we got stranded on Mimban after the GAR sent us to Kasssyyykk. We crash-landed and all went into heat and rut… obviously you can put together the pieces there. I hadn’t seen Howzer in over eight standard months at that point.” 

Howzer nodded in the doorway. 

You looked to Echo, “Why am I constantly having to explain my sexual history in front of my former commanding officer?” 

Echo laughed as Hunter quirked his head in the direction of the ARC Trooper.

Tech chimed in, “I’d like to point out that I have upheld my banishment of speaking on this topic.” 

You have his hand a squeeze and a smile. 

“I think you kids need to let those two catch up.” Rex’s groggy voice came from behind Wolffe, “They haven’t seen each other in ages and I’m sure theres some details not everyone needs to hear for the millionth time.” 

Rex always had a knack for settling people straight. At this point he was pro, with having to wrangle Fives and Echo all those years. 

“Of course Captain.” Layla winked at Rex before sauntering out of the treatment room. Rex watched her leave with a smirk. 

Wolffe and Howzer turned to return to their med pods, while your mates stuck around. 

“You alright?” Hunter checked in on you. 

You nodded, “I can take care of him. You guys get your sleep. Take Echo with you. He needs his real bed.” 

Echo grunted in agreement. 

“Comm us if you need anything.” Crosshair pressed a kiss to your head before leaving with his brothers. 

Hunter and Tech also gave you a kiss before leaving you alone with your longest friend. 

You sighed and crossed your arms looking at Kix like he was a cadet all wrapped up in a pink and green blanket. 

He patted the bed next to him which you happily trotted over and plopped down next to him.

“So…” He looked down at you, “Did you end up fucking Wolffe?” 

“No!” Wolffe yelled from the other room. 

You giggled and shoved Kix playfully, “No.” 

“So like how does that work?” He snickered, “Do they like run a train on you or something?” 

“Oh my gods Kix!” You screeched, you were certain the other men in the room next door heard him, “You’re worse than Echo.” 

He giggled, “C’mon I’ve been frozen for over a year, give a guy something good.” 

“No they don’t run a train on me.” You were horrified at that verbiage. 

“No judgement tiny,” He raise his brows, “The 501st ran trains all the time. Sometimes with more than one omega.” 

Now it was your turn to gawk. 

“Stop telling her these things!” Rex chastised from the other room. 

“Oh please, like you didn’t join!” Kix teased. You heard nothing from the other room, “And I’m sure the Captain and Commander had their own fun too.” Kix continued, “I heard a lot of things about Wolffe’s men back in the day…” He whispered and you shook your head. 

You thought you were going to pass out. Absolutely no way, the cheshire style grin that appeared on your face. How absolutely insane. Echo never told you about that…

“Do I want to ask about Echo’s involvement?” You whispered. 

“No!” Rex admonished. 

You looked at Kix who just replied with a telling smirk. 

“Ewugh, bleh.” You shook your head. 

“Anyways. Not the first time a clone had shared a woman.” He nudged you, “You look good though. You’re not as scrawny as you used to be. All healthy and glowing and shit.” 

“Echo trained me in hand to hand. Then working here on the farm I think has bulked me up a little.” You replied sheepishly. 

“Looks good on you, Tiny.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Okay, so how do you manage all of them? 

“We have a schedule.” 

He smirked, “Do those schedules ever overlap?” 

You bit your lip and nodded. You had a flashback to the day before with Hunter and Crosshair which made you shiver slightly.

He nodded slyly. It made you giggle. It was nice talking to him again. It was like talking with Echo. There was such a natural flow and you had alway felt comfortable with Kix. With him being a medic, he had that special personality about him that made you instantly feel safe in his care. 

“… so they do run trains…” 

“Kix!” You grabbed a pillow and smacked him with it. 

He howled with laughter and let you smack him. 

“Hey if you ever want another alpha you know where to look!” Wolffe hollered from the other room. 

“We’re pros at trains according to Kix!” Howzer chimed in. 

“Shut up!” You yelled back. 

You heard Rex groan and shift in his blankets clearly grossed out by this entire conversation. 

You sat and chatted with Kix for the remainder of the night filling him in on every life detail and you too listened to him as he wanted all the details that lead up to this very moment. You couldn’t blame him, you’d want the play by play too if you were in his position. 

When morning finally comes, you make to excuse yourself to let Kix rest, and when you enter the main treatment room, Howzer gently tugs you side with a gentle hold on your wrist. You flinch slightly realizing he had gripped over Wrecker’s mark making you shudder. 

“Sorry.” He withdrew realizing what he had done. Clearly he wasn’t used to that. 

“It’s alright.” You rubbed at the mark, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just wanted to talk.” Howzer said trying to soften his expression as much as possible, “I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get you alone without your mates around.”

You huffed, “Howzer-“ 

“I’m not trying to upset you.” He interrupted. 

You relented and sat down on the cot next to him. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m not angry with you.” He began, “Confused? Yes. Shocked? Absolutely…. And jealous… I didn’t know how to react. When I saw you on Teth I thought it was going to be like old times. Like you were still mine. I wondered how the hell you ended up on Teth. I didn’t even know you got reassigned to the 99’s.” 

Your body tensed at his words of ownership. It didn’t feel right now that you knew for a fact you belonged to your mates. 

“I didn’t know. And I’m sorry for lashing out. You don’t deserve that. You’re a very special woman, and frankly I should have proposed a bond to you back on Ryloth but I was afraid something might happen to me and you’d bear the consequences.” 

Your heart raced rapidly hearing those words. A bond with Howzer? You had to take a breath, you hadn’t realized how attached he had been. He had come to you on those particularly difficult nights for comfort, but you always thought you were supposed to remain friends after you both agreed on the terms of your relationship. Well, more like friends with benefits. He was in command of an entire garrison and yourself. You were his working medic while under his command. You knew nothing more could have come of it, but he was a very impressive alpha. A strong one too. You couldn’t blame yourself for having those feelings about the captain. 

“I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” He looked at you endearingly, “I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad they make you happy. While I don’t entirely understand it, I guess it’s not for me to understand. I just want to make sure you’re good.” 

He was a damn good alpha. You sighed and looked back at him, “Thank you, Howzer. I didn’t want to upset you either, it was making me so anxious. I never wanted to hurt you and I felt like I had.” 

“Not you darling. I was also a little put off by Crosshair after the events with the empire. The empire had interrogated me as well before he came to Ryloth. They wanted to know everything about you. I only told them limited details but I was worried you were in danger. Then the sniper showed up and tore apart the base on his mission to retrieve you.” 

“He was heavily under the programming of the inhibitor chips, he also thought I was dead. He was suffering a lot.” 

“He thought you were dead?” 

“It’s a long story.” You shuddered recounting the emptiness from the severed bond. 

“Well that would make sense.” Howzer huffed out a short laugh, “I’d tear apart the base too.” 

You smiled taking his hand in yours. 

“Are we okay?” You asked sincerely, “I can’t stand thinking you hate me.” 

“I could never hate you, little dove.” However ran his thumb over your hand, “But if you ever need a fifth…” 

You rolled your eyes playfully before standing up. 

“I’ll let you know.” You joked making him smile. 

~~~

When the morning light bleed through the curtains and warmed your nose, you blinked your eyes open and stretched like a loth cat, only to be obstructed. You mewled feeling Tech’s heavy arm pinning you to his front. You tried to flip around to face him but he shifted, pushing you nearly under him as he sighed in his sleep. 

Deciding there was no point in trying to fight the heavy alpha. You snuggled into him, enjoying his warmth as he nearly suffocated you in his scent. 

You were in heaven. The fur pelts of your nest kept you toasty warm as the last of the fire crackled out. You scooted further back pressing as close as possible to your tall alpha. He groaned waking up lightly. His hand brushed up against your front, cupping your breast. You giggled sleepily as he squeezed and massaged you. 

“You’re up early, darling.” His raspy voice made you squirm. 

“I have a big day, alpha.” You replied rolling over to face him.

His eyes were still closed as he lightly dragged his fingers over your back leisurely. You pressed kisses to his chest and he rumbled happily. You rubbed your cheeks against his skin leaving your scent on him making you purr. 

“Oh yeah? What is on your schedule today?” He asked reaching for his goggles. 

You kissed further down making him breathe a little faster. 

“Well…” Your tone was teasing, “I was thinking…” You dragged your nail down his abs to his muscular thigh you saw his hardened cock twitch at the scrape of your nail, “I was thinking, I would blow my alpha, and then eat some breakfast, and then go to the lab to check in on the serum. Then maybe cure the entire clone population of accelerated aging.” You shrugged playfully. 

Tech’s big eyes blinked behind his goggles as he watched you descent to settle between his legs. 

“Sound good alpha?” You asked teasing your nails around the base of his cock making him break out in goosebumps. 

“Seems like a reasonable plan.” He nodded trying to thrust his hips into your grasp. 

You took mercy on him and grasped his hardened cock in your hand and gave him a few slow stokes making him swallow. 

While, Tech and Cross are usually pretty dominant with you, in the mornings Tech was particularly softer with you. He usually let you do whatever you wanted which made your insides melt. 

You continued to stroke him watching the way he was beginning to pant the longer you stimulated him. 

You bit your lip as you swiped the pre come dripping from his flushed tip. Tech sucked in air at the feeling of your hand, but his noises escalated when you leaned down to lick the tip and he bit back a groan. 

You smiled mischievously before sticking out your tongue and giving him a long lick from base to tip. Tech trusted upwards making you smile before fulling engulfing him in your mouth. He huffed at the intense warmth surrounding him. 

“Darling.” He bit out as his hand instinctually flew to your hair, “Fuck.” 

You gently bobbed your head taking him even deeper making Tech squirm on the fur pelts. You applied some more suction as you pushed yourself even deeper. His salty taste made your toes curl. His hand gently massaged your scalp as he softly guided you up and down his length at the speed he needed. 

You moaned around his length making him shudder. Kriff he looked so damn good. His entire body flexed and showed off his lean muscles. 

Tech’s hips stuttered slightly and you doubled down, massaging his length with your tongue. He let a tiny whimper slip before he twitched and spilled his cum into your throat. You swallowed diligently as he sagged down into the nest trying to catch his breath. 

“Mega…” He slurred trying to recover from the orgasm. You smiled and sat back up on your heels before giving his abs one last kiss before standing. 

“Where are you going?” He asked pushing his hair back. 

“I told you.” You giggled, “I’m going to make some breakfast then head to the clinic.” 

“I fear that I would be a bad alpha if I allowed you to leave without repaying the favor.” He said sitting up and coving his lap with a blanket. 

You smiled grabbing your robe and pulling it on, “It’s alright alpha, I’m too distracted anyways.” 

He relented and relaxed back into the fur. 

You skipped into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Turning on the shower water, you stepped inside to scrub down. 

~~~

Wrecker and the others were awake and in the kitchen by the time you left the bathroom. 

The smell of eggs and meat made your mouth water. You saddled up next to Hunter, sitting in his lap as Wrecker placed your plate in front of you. You thanked him and grabbed your spork to dig in. 

Hunter wrapped you in his strong arms and nuzzled his mark on your neck no doubt leaving his scent behind. 

Tech finally rose up out of the nest to dress declaring this plans for fence repair today.

Hunter nipped you playfully making you squeal. 

By the time you finished your meal, the boys had cleaned up and were starting to get ready for their day. Hunter deposited you on the floor where Crosshair and him fussed about getting you dressed for the weather. The can’t stand the idea of you getting a cold.

They tied your rain hat over your head and pulled your jacket on before giving you a little pat on the ass before following you outside. 

They detoured off towards the stables while you continued on the little winding path towards the half buried domicile in the hill. You could see some lights on inside which let you know at least someone was awake this morning. 

You were hoping that Kix was back to normal…

The sound of the front door swooshing open momentarily held your attention before you looked up to see one of the most disturbing sights you have ever seen in your short lifespan… 

Layla was straddling Kix, while Echo’s pale naked body nestled up behind Layla and all three of them had not an article of clothing in sight. 

All three heads of Kix, Layla, and Echo whipped around to look at you as both alpha’s froze mid thrust while Layla balked in the direction in which you stood. Kix’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat and his cheeks were flushed while Layla was trying her best to cover up with the sheets and Echo joust stood there un-phased if not a little annoyed to be interrupted. 

You closed your eyes let out a horrified scream and turned on your heel to run out of the lab. 

“Wait!” Layla screamed after you but it was no use you kept screaming as you ran back towards the stables. 

It wasn’t long before Crosshair and Hunter ran up to you, blasters in hand, looking worried. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

You shook your head and flung yourself into Hunter’s chest, “I just walked in on Layla, Kix… and Echo.” 

There was a moment of silence before you heard Crosshair’s chuckle. Images of Echo’s pale ass flashed into your mind’s eye. You cringed. 

“I think you woke up the whole settlement.” Hunter shimmied you both around to see curious heads popping out of their homes. 

You giggled, “Whoops.” 

Crosshair shrugged, “Didn’t know Echo still had it in him.” 

You slapped his arm, “Cross… I’ve been traumatized and you’re joking about it?” 

“At least Kix is fine.” He pointed out.

That was true at least. 

You wish you could erase the past five minutes from your memory however.

Hunter chuckled, “You’re fine mesh’la. Let’s give them twenty minutes then go back.” 

The three of you walked towards the stables where you could at least play with the barn tookas while you waited for them to finish.

What a fucking morning…

~~~

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

The three of them stood anxiously by your lab door like kicked puppies. 

You refused to turn around. You couldn’t even look without picturing that. 

“It never happened.” You waved them off, “I’m just glad you’re back to normal, Kix.” 

“B-But-“ He started but Echo just gestured for him to return back to the other room. 

“Trust me. This is the better option.” The Arc trooper tried to console his friend. 

You were too busy with your work anyways. 

Howzer, Rex and Wolffe all came back normal once they dealt with their quick bit of drowsiness. When they woke up, they felt absolutely fine and have no shown any signs of side effects. When you checked their DNA once again, you saw the alterations and how they were now practically identical to natural born human males. Their accelerated aging had been totally reversed… 

The comparison however was remarkable, the ways the Kaminoan’s altered their genetic structures to prevent disease, and recover from injury quicker, amongst other things. It was a scientific marvel. You could stare at their genomes for hours. You wondered how much of that genetic data you could replicate for yourself and others. 

You heard another beep go off letting you know the synthesizer was finished with another batch of vials, while your assistant medical droids packaged them up neatly in crates getting them ready for use. 

You picked up a single vile looking at it and thinking of what Hunter said earlier. You sighed. It would be nice to just be normal and start a family. You know your alphas would make amazing fathers. Protective, loving, smart, and brave. All the qualities you could want. As you held the blue vile, you decided this one was for Hunter and you slipped it into your pocket. 

“Need any help?” Kix returned standing in your doorway awkwardly. 

You looked up and raised a brow. 

“I feel bad…” he admitted. 

You softened your gaze, “It’s alright Kix, if you want to help me start organizing for distribution I’d appreciate it.” 

He waddled inside plopping down next to the droids trying to understand the science behind all of this. 

“So… how much did you see?” He asked sheepishly. 

You grumbled, “Too much.” 

“Sorry.” He chewed his lip. 

You both locked eyes and stared feeling the awkwardness before you both burst out into hysterical laughter. 

“You were literally frozen in carbonite and the first thing you do coming out is have a threesome?!” You were howling with laughter feeling the tears running down your eyes. 

“Listen… Listen!” He waves his hands around, “I woke up from the worst situation I’ve ever been in and my dream omega is right there! Give a guy some credit!” 

He wiped away tears under his eyes. 

“Kix!” You screamed flopping onto your back. 

“Ahh!” He tried to calm down, “it wasn’t the first time…” 

You looked at him again with owlish eyes, “What?” 

“Well after Sarge wiped the floor with you after Crait, we had to bring Layla back to Coruscant… and well… we did it in the med-bay stock room.” He clamped his mouth shut anticipating your reaction. 

“No fucking way.” Your brows raised and your jaw dropped, “ She didn’t tell me that!” 

“She didn’t tell you what?” Hunter sauntered into the room crossing his arms and raising a playful brow. 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear.” You rolled your eyes playfully. 

“What’s the fun in that?” He leaned against the entry door. 

“Hi Sarge.” Kix nodded in Hunter’s direction. 

“Long time no see.” Hunter smirked. 

Kix cleared his throat, “I’m feeling a strange urge to yell at you for mating my best friend and little sister, but I’m going to settle for telling you that you better keep those boys in line and take good care of her alright?” 

You giggled at Kix’s sudden protectiveness. 

Hunter just smiled, “Don’t have to worry about us doc, she’s the one keeping us all in line.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

Hunter then looked to you, “Wanna grab some chow? Wrek made some shaak roast.” 

Your mouth instantly watered, “I want to, but I have all these…” You looked at the cases of synthesized cure. 

Kix stood up waving his arms around, “Don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough creating it, Layla and I can distribute it. We're not strangers to injector guns.” 

That was true. 

“Okay.” You smiled, “Give me three more.” 

Kix handed you three more which you stashed in your pocket along with the other vile with your sergeant’s name on it. 

You grabbed your injector gun and let Hunter walk you back to the house. 

“So, the cure is ready for distribution?” Hunter held the door open for you and let you step inside. 

You kicked off your boots with an excited grin, “Yup.” 

“I feel like there’s something else…” He raised a brow,” 

“Well…” You suddenly got a little shy, “I was thinking… after you’re all cured, I thought we might talk about maybe… trying for a pup?” 

Hunter stared at you, trying to catch his breath. You were positive his heart was racing as quickly as yours was. The look of hope and excitement on his face made your insides tingle. 

“A-are you sure?” He reached out grabbing your shoulders. 

You chewed your lips and stared up into his grey eyes, “Well, now that I have other medics here… I wasn’t exactly looking forwards to making Tech take a crash course in labor an delivery…” 

“He would have learned everything you would have needed.” Hunter smiled. 

“I know…” You giggled, “But, I wanted to ask you… I can tell you’ve been thinking about it more recently. And I think you’d make an amazing father.” 

“I-“ Hunter was at a loss for words, “Really?” His eyes lit up. 

“Yeah, Hunter, I do.” You smiled, “I want to ask the other three too when the time is right… not entirely sure how Cross is going to feel about it.” 

Hunter grumbled, “Probably wont be all that thrilled.” 

“Well he’ll be outnumbered.” You winked at him. 

Hunter smiled leaned forwards to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“What are you two talking about?” Wrecker stepped out of the kitchen wearing his apron and oven mitts. 

“Oh… nothing…” Your sing-song voice made him raise a brow suspiciously. 

~ Nine months later ~

“Kix get the FUCK away from my mate!” Crosshair screamed over Wrecker’s shoulder as the giant held him firmly in place despite his wriggling. 

“It’s okay, Tiny, just breathe!” Echo looked like he was going to faint from the side of the room. What a sport.  

“Fuuuucccck!” You screamed baring down leaning into the urge to push. 

“That’s it.” Kix and Layla encouraged from the foot of the bed, “Keep pushing!”

Hunter held your hand while Tech kept a cooling cloth on your forehead as you panted and screamed with every contraction. 

“Where are the drugs?!” You demanded. 

The medical droid quickly started distributing the pain medications. 

“You’re almost there.” Layla said pushing your legs a little further up, “You got this babe.” 

You turned to look at Hunter who looked just as woozy as Echo, “I’m going to fucking kill you.” 

He cringed with guilt. The poor alpha just gave you his best remorseful eyes as he lovingly held your trembling hand. 

Another painful contraction hit and you knew it was go time. 

“Move!” You threw everyone off of you. 

“What is she doing?!” Echo was distraught watching you roll onto your side, and get back up on your hands and knees in a kneeling position. 

“Get her back on her back!” He was about to lose it. 

“Relax Echo, it’s a natural response to the birthing instincts.” Tech explained helping hunter to rub your back, “Gravity helps the pup slide out easier.” Tech was clearly fascinated with the entire process. As the clones themselves weren’t born naturally, he had done hours of endless research to prepare for this moment and all the moments after, “She’s just doing what her body is telling her to do.” 

Echo covered his mouth anxiously barely able to watch as you bared down gritting your teeth together and let out a primal growl. 

“Layla.” You panted. She was at your side instantly, “I can’t do it.” You wavered. The baby should have been here by now, you were certain, “I-I can’t…” 

“You can.” She knelt down gettin glower so you could make eye contact. She looked to all of the alphas and gave them a stern look that let them know immediately to back the fuck off. 

Hunter and the others retreated giving you space. Including Kix, who was still monitoring vitals from across the room. 

“Look at me.” Layla growled. 

You looked at her with a dazed expression. You were exhausted. The labor had been going on all night and you barely had a moment to rest in between painful contractions. You just wanted this over and done with. 

“I’m tired.” You whimpered. 

“I know.” Her tone was stern, “But you and Hunter have wanted this pup for so long… Look at him.” 

You looked up seeing his guilty and worried expression before turning back to your friend. 

“You’re going to deliver this fucking pup and your alphas are going to take care of you two.” She pointed to Hunter, “Don’t let your alpha down.” You whimpered at that. 

Suddenly you were filled with the primal need to please your alpha. The instincts were beginning to override the pain and exhaustion. 

Layla nodded her head seeing the change and look of determination in your eyes, “So… we’ll do it together…” You looked at her confused for a second before he stood up, grabbing a loose sheet from the neighboring bed before climbing into yours. He knotted one end and then the other before handing it to you, “Think you can lay on your back for me?” 

You nodded before lazily rolling back onto your back. You didn’t necessarily feel like being in this position, but you were trusting Layla. 

Luckily the drugs were starting to kick in and you were able to focus on whatever the hell she was cooking up. 

You took one end of the knotted sheet and held on as she sat facing you mirroring your straddled position. 

“Ready?” She asked. 

You nodded. 

When she began to pull on the sheet you mimicked her, pulling as hard as you could. 

Fuck… you felt something. 

She pulled again and you grunted feeling your abdominals begin to contract as you bared down. 

“It’s working.” Kix said stepping forwards. 

“One more time.” Layla said, “I can see the pup’s head.” 

The excitement in the room was palpable. Even Crosshair had calmed down while the others watched in horrified fascination. 

You pulled on the sheet once more and felt something like pressure. 

“The pup’s head is out. You just have the shoulders, Y/N. C’mon atta girl.” Layla was excited. 

You growled again pulling on the sheet before there was more pressure than a rush… Then you were suddenly… empty…. 

Layla dropped the sheet to catch the pup while Kix tended to you. 

Hunter watched with bated breath as anticipatory silence over took the room. 

Layla rubbed the pup’s chest slightly before a piercing cry broke the quiet. You audibly sighed in relief as the pup cried out to the world. 

“Atta girl.” Echo rushed to your side while Layla cleaned your new born pup. 

Hunter remained fixed on the spot unsure of what he was even seeing. It seemed like he was in shock that he was now a father… The tiny little pup was flailing around and Hunter was zeroed in on its little heart beat. Even the scent was a perfect mixture of the two of you.

Layla returned back to you to place the babe on your chest, “It’s a girl.” 

“A girl?” You were in disbelief. You clutched the pup. She felt so small you couldn’t believe it. 

You snuggled your baby, rubbing your scent into her skin as he cried. 

“Hunter.” 

Everyone cleared a path for the ex-sergeant to near. He hesitated for just a moment before forcing his legs to carry himself over to you. 

He knelt down at your side pressing a kiss to your forehead. You could smell the worry on him still, and the vibration of awe through the bond. 

“Our daughter.” You smiled tiredly up at him. 

He looked down at you lovingly, absolutely blown away that you had just created this life inside you. He reached out his finger and watched with amazement when she wrapped her little hand around his with a death grip. 

He gasped feeling her strength. You smiled watching him scent her. 

Suddenly everything was perfect and right in the world, and the twelve hours of labour suddenly didn’t feel so bad watching Hunter hesitantly pick up the little bundle of pup into his big burly arms as he cradled your daughter so perfectly. She was so safe in his protective arms. You could feel the bond forming within your mate already the longer he gazed upon her. 

“Awh!” Wrecker wiped a tear away, “I want one…” 

You huffed a laugh.. 

“Well you’re going to have to wait a while,” Tech gave you a knowing look. He was referencing the fact you had all decided to go with age order on this matter. 

“Alright, keep your paws off of her… at least 6 weeks before we can clear her.” Kix reminded picking up the cup of cool water to bring to your lips. 

“Awh!” Both Wrecker and Crosshair groaned. 

Layla shook her head. 

“Tiny!” Rex’s voice suddenly cut in as he pushed through the door along with Howzer, Wolffe, Grim, Bolts, Stunner, and pretty much every other clone you’ve come to know, “Is she okay?” Rex demanded. They all stuffed themselves into the room eager to see. 

“Yes, Captain, she’s alright.” Kix responded. 

Rex nodded before walking over to you where he patted you on the shoulder. 

You watched as Hunter fussed over the little one while your other mates grappled for a peek. Even Crosshair seemed smitten. You could feel the icy need to protect her with his life snap into place and you knew your baby girl was in good hands. 

“Made a good one, kid.” Rex praised you. 

“Thanks Captain.” You chewed an ice chip. 

“She’s beautiful.” Wrecked mused. 

“It’s a girl?” Rex asked with wide eyes. 

“Mhmm.” You smiled, “She has Hunter’s eyes.” 

“Watch her have super hearing too.” Kix laughed. 

“I didn’t even consider that might be passed down genetically.” You mulled. 

“Well someone has an army of uncles to watch over her.” Bolts giggled watching as your daughter stretched a hand up into the sky almost grabbing for her father. Hunter instinctually brought her up to his chest and tucked her into his neck. 

“He’s a natural.” You smiled. 

“You both are.” Layla replied with a smile. She grabbed onto Kix’s hand as everyone seemed to have their eyes on Hunter. 

Yeah you were… 

You looked at your family with pure adoration. Your mates never taking their eyes off the precious cargo that Hunter Clutched protectively. 

Even when they carried you back home to your nest, they never left you and the baby alone for a second. Everything was perfect. 

You were happy, safe, and content. 

The war was long behind you and the Empire no longer existed to you all. 

You could watch your daughter grow up in peace, surrounded by those who love her. 

She’d never know war, violence, and cruelty. You wished the 501st could have been here to get to live this, but you knew you all carried them within you everywhere you went. The refugees on Zyphor honored them everyday by choosing to be happy and free. 

And that was all you needed. 

You were happy… and free. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

@iamburdened

(There was someone else I was supposed to tag but I can't find your message anywhere ahhhh I'll add you as soon as I can find you)

[fireboos99]

I literally do not have anything smart to say here, this drawing literally only happened because my siblings were telling me I should post my brainrot doodles on here, and my anxiety-ridden ass couldn't do it, and decided the only solution was to spend days (read: the entire latter end of April) working on a proper drawing because "if I'm going to post anything on tumblr, it better be a full-ass drawing"

[disdaidal]

I don't want to brag or sound too optimistic about it, but after three weeks of training at a private college, I think my lessons with this one particular immigrant student (who has serious motivational problems lemme tell ya) are finally starting to get through and there's been improvement.

Only slight improvement so far but I have spotted some, so maybe not all hope is lost yet.

Remains to be seen I guess.

[thunderboltfire]

oof, at least we're out of the sketch stage!

[byanyan]

ㅤat this point, they're beyond wasted and vibing out to music that's too loud with several substances on standby for when the buzz starts wearing off. happy new year!!

[sschmendrick]

I shouldn't have seen that scheduled post now I'm thinking about them like I haven't been thinking about them for the past week, month

[ghostlyheart]

Happy Valentines Day!! 💝 I hope you spend the day being haunted by someone you love 👻 (or if you're like me, just eating a lot of heart-shaped candy)

Poll:

[moe-broey]

Oh. Huh.

[always-just-red]

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.  

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”  

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.  

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters: part one

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part one word count: 19.3k

part one warnings: swearing, blood and all sorts of other vampire-y things, semi graphic descriptions/depictions of violence, I don't know anything about publishing and wrote about it anyway, not quite as much in this part, but I want to forewarn you that while there is still nothing explicit, we do get a little ~sexier~ than most stllmnstr fics

note/disclaimer: I have been itching to write an enha vampire fic for ages because hello? the material is RIGHT THERE!! this is a story I'm super excited about, and it's definitely gotten me out of my comfort zone. in order to help build this world, I did draw from some outside sources. primarily, a lot of the vampire lore and some plot elements are inspired by the dark moon webtoon series. I did also pull some things from twilight and other well-known vampire myths. lastly, there is a section with "poetry" in it. these "poems" are translated lyrics from still monster, chaconne, and lucifer by enhypen. some are in their original form and some I altered slightly. everything else is straight from yours truly! as always, happy reading ♡

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

The last sip of your coffee tastes bitter on your tongue. Acidic, like it was left to brew too long. Or maybe not long enough. Your limited knowledge of coffee extends to its effects on your alertness and little else. 

Taste has always been an afterthought, something of little consequence. Besides, some bitterness is to be expected when you take your coffee black. 

Suppressing the small wince that always follows your final sip, you set the reusable thermos down on your desk. Next to your open notebook and favorite ballpoint pen, it settles in nicely with your other class essentials. 

Call it poetic or romantic or unbearably pretentious, but you actually do prefer to take your notes by hand. Partly because it feels more fitting for a literature major and mostly because your laptop is on its last leg and between tuition and rent, you don’t exactly have the funds to shell out for a new one. 

Frowning at the bitter taste that still lingers on your tongue, you feel another pang of regret for forgetting to pack your water bottle this morning. But no matter. Today is a day for optimism. The bitterness now only means that your imminent victory will taste that much sweeter in comparison. 

Because today is the last day of the fall semester of your third year. Which means that this is the last morning you’ll be sitting here in this lecture hall in the minutes preceding 9 am. 

Which means that today is the day of your professor’s long awaited announcement. You still remember the day, nearly four months ago, when he first told the entire room of undermotivated, overcaffeinated students about it. 

A publishing opportunity. A real, actual publishing opportunity. Something most literature students would sell their soul for. 

Because Professor Kim, while a rather mediocre professor who prefers to dish out criticism and bite back praise, has an excellent eye for great writing. So much so that nearly twenty years ago, he founded his very own publishing house. 

Known by the name New Haven Publishing, it’s a small operation that deals mostly in short pieces that are marketed more for niche literary circles than mass public appeal. Being published by New Haven may not be a straight shot to the New York Times’ Best Sellers List, but it’s still professional publishing. 

And a week into classes, he announced that for the first time ever, he would be choosing one of you to not only intern at New Haven the following semester, but also to publish an original piece of short fiction with them. 

You’ve been fantasizing about it for months now. You can already imagine it. A piece of your very own, marketed and edited by professionals. Published and complete with Professor Kim’s stamp of approval. 

It’s what you’ve been craving ever since you decided to switch paths and pursue literature studies at the end of your first semester. It’s everything you’re sure you need. Validation that your writing is good, that your words are worth reading. 

Hell, maybe it will even earn you the approval of your parents. 

And, perhaps most satisfying of all, you will have officially beaten Lee Heeseng once and for all. You don’t want to speak poorly of the rest of your classmates and their writing abilities, but this has always been a competition between you and him. 

Or, at least, it has been for you. 

It’s the last day of the semester, and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if Heeseung still had a hard time remembering that the internship was even happening. Then again, you wouldn’t exactly be shocked if he couldn't remember your name, either.  

And if you were hard pressed to choose only one thing, that would probably be what annoys you the most about him. Not the way his hair is alway somehow perfectly mussed. Not the way his writing is painfully beautiful and poetic that you swell green with envy just thinking about it. 

No, the root cause of your infinite ire when it comes to Lee Heeseung is how damn aloof he is. Like his classmates and professors and even his greatest rival aren’t worth the effort of remembering. 

And it’s not like it’s because he’s got some kind of crazy social life outside of academics. Other than mandatory discussion groups, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so much as talk to anyone. 

But that’s just the way he is, you suppose. 

Perfect Heeseung with his perfect hair and his perfect writing and perfect attendance record doesn’t need anyone but himself—

Wait. 

Perfect attendance record. 

Glancing at the clock mounted high above the front door of the lecture hall, you can hardly believe what you’re seeing. 

8:59. 

There’s no way. There’s no fucking way that the universe is rooting for you this hard, that the stars are aligning this perfectly. 

Despite your doubts, the second hand continues its onward march. You suppress the sudden urge to bounce your leg in a matching rhythm. 

He has five seconds. 

Four. Three. Two. One. 

And it’s official. A ridiculous amount of pent up tension drains from your shoulders as your spine straightens. You can’t believe it was that easy. 

A semester of agonizing over every word, every sentence, every assignment you handed in for this class. A semester of panicking over missed buses and waking up way too early just to make sure you always beat the clock. 

But today is the day where everything comes to a head. 

And Lee Heeseung is officially late. 

Professor Kim, at the beginning of the semester, had only two pieces of advice to offer his students that were suddenly all gunning for a shot at being published:

One: “Don’t make me read awful writing.”

And two: “Don’t be late to class. I have zero tolerance for tardiness.”

Heeseung has just broken a cardinal rule. One row down, nine seats to the left from where you sit. It’s the place that would usually be filled with an annoyingly broad set of shoulders and distractingly sharp jawline. In fact, Heeseung usually beats you here most days. Not that you’re keeping track, of course. And not that it matters. 

Because this morning, this fateful morning, that particular seat, his seat, is glaringly, gloriously empty. 

Your eyes flicker over to it again without your permission. But you can’t help it. You’re so antsy now, teeming with self-satisfied excitement. It’s almost unbelievable actually. A golden stroke of luck that he chose today, of all days, to be late.

In fact, you think the more you stare at the empty seat, Lee Heeseung is such a reliable presence that the entire lecture hall suddenly seems a bit off kilter. Tilted too far in some precarious state of imbalance. 

Your smugness is still there, yes, but now there’s also a heavy feeling beginning to settle at the bottom of your gut. Why on earth is Lee Heeseung late?

You’re so distracted by his absence, the endless loop of possibilities and explanations running through your mind, that you almost miss the second abnormality of the morning. 

Because now the clock reads 9:04, and Heeseung isn’t the only one missing. 

All at once, your attention is on the podium at the front of the lecture hall. It’s empty, too. And Professor Kim may be a hardass, but he’s no hypocrite. Never once throughout this entire semester has he ever begun a class even a millisecond late.

Frowning, you pull out your phone to confirm that the clock on the wall is not playing tricks on you. Maybe there was a power outage or something, and maintenance hasn’t had time to correct it yet. 

But your phone screen lights up, and 9:05 is the time that stares back at you. 

Glancing around, no one else seems too particularly bothered by this. There are a few titters, a few annoyed grumbles that sound like hypocrite and double standard where they reach your ears. 

But still, the clock ticks forward. 

The minute hand has fallen another two notches when the front door finally opens, Professor Kim striding in unhurried. Despite his lateness, his steps are steady, even. There’s nothing frantic or apologetic about the way he sets his briefcase down next to the podium, pulling out his laptop and a small stack of notes before clearing his throat. 

As the students around you fall silent, class begins as it always does. Other than the time, nothing is out of the ordinary. 

But your spirits are still high, and you figure you can cut your professor some slack. Maybe he ran into a bad bit of traffic or spilled coffee all over his shirt. Maybe he’s too embarrassed to draw more attention to his error and has decided that not acknowledging it at all is the best course of action. 

Oh, well. It’s no use ruminating on it now. Settling back into your seat, you do your best to focus your attention on the front of the room and not that damn empty chair. But the distraction isn’t necessary for long. 

The clock is just striking 9:12 when a second late arrival draws the eyes of the class to the front door of the lecture hall. Like your professor, Heeseung maintains a certain air of composedness as he makes his way towards his seat wordlessly. 

There’s a moment, a fraction of a second, where Professor Kim pauses, letting a sentence drift into silence. 

Twelve minutes late. It’s a rookie mistake. For a fleeting moment, you almost feel bad for him. Because surely Professor Kim is about to make an example of him. No one walks into his lectures late and leaves unscathed. 

Wincing, you remember a handful of weeks ago when a poor girl that sits a few rows behind you arrived late. Not only had Professor Kim stopped the entire flow of his lecture to draw attention to her tardiness, he had also assigned her an extra short story for homework. One on the merits of punctuality.

But the ebb in the lecture begins to flow again, the moment passing as soon as it comes. Heeseung settles into his chair. Your professor resumes his sentence. 

For the remainder of the class, you do your best to pay attention, but you’re having trouble finding a point. It’s not like he can assign homework or an exam or a discussion on the last day of the semester. 

Like you, most of your peers are fully zoned out, just waiting for him to get to what everyone has been dying to know for months. 

Who’s interning at New Haven? Who’s getting published?

But distractions in this class have never been hard to come by. More than once, you find your wandering gaze drifting to the back of Heeseung’s head. Usually, you’d be bitterly admiring how soft his hair looks. But today, there’s only one question that plays in your mind as you stare. 

What on earth happened that made perfect Lee Heeseung late?

Your thoughts are only interrupted by the sudden shuffle of small movement around you as everyone sits up a bit straighter in their seats. 

“Ah,” Professor Kim glances at the time. “That wraps up our semester, then. As promised, I would like to announce the student who will be interning with New Haven Publishing this upcoming semester. And, of course, the student that will have the opportunity to publish an original piece with us.”

He pauses for a moment, looking down at his notes. You wonder if the people sitting close to you can hear the way your heart pounds in your chest. 

Please be me. Please be me. Please be me. 

The rushing in your ears is so loud that you almost miss it. But not quite. Because the sound of your own name is something you’d recognize anywhere. 

Because it was your name that he said. Not anyone else’s. Not Heeseung’s.

You. You did it. 

You’re officially going to be interning with New Haven. You’re going to be published. 

When he asks you to stay a minute after class to discuss the details, it’s all you can do to nod. Butterflies are still scattered in your stomach. 

As the rest of the students begin to file out, you pack up your materials with hands that shake slightly. It doesn’t feel real. It feels too good to be true. You poured your everything into this all semester long, and now it’s actually happening. 

Your mind is a mess, and an erratic movement almost sends your empty thermos flying. Luckily, you snap out of it long enough to  catch it before it hits the ground. With everything packed back into your bag, you make your way down to the podium on slightly unsteady feet. 

A handful of passing classmates congratulate you on their way out, and you smile in return. 

You’ve almost made it to the front of the lecture hall when a body blocks your path. It takes a moment for your brain to register the identity of the offender. And once it does, it spits his name with venom. Heeseung. 

Oblivious and self-centered as always, he nearly knocks you over. Rolling your eyes, you move to step around him. Apparently whatever gift he was given for writing doesn’t extend to his spatial awareness or consideration for others. 

But as you lean to the left, he follows the movement, still in your path. Your gaze snaps up, eyebrows raised when you find him already looking at you. 

Oh. So it’s not a spatial awareness problem, then. He’s in your way on purpose. 

As always, his expression is infuriatingly blank. You can’t get any sort of read on him, and it unnerves you. Irritates you. Here he is, blocking your path, and the only thing he has to offer you is an empty, silent stare.

You could just say excuse me, force your way around him, and be done with it. You should. The semester is over, your professor’s decision is made, and you have no stake left in this game. 

But you’ve been biting back snarky comments and masking irritated expressions with mild indifference for months. The nerve he has to block you. The utter gall of it all. To physically stand in your way when he’s been your metaphorical obstacle to success all semester. 

When every time you look at him, you still remember that one sunny afternoon, early in the semester. The time you tried, actually tried to be his friend. When he waved you off like a buzzing fly that was nothing more than a nuisance. 

You inhale, weighing your options. His head tilts slightly at the movement, and it’s your last straw. 

There’s poison in your voice when you bite, “Oh, what? Now that I’ve proved myself, you can spare some time out of your day to talk to me?”

Heeseung’s eyes widen, lips parting slightly. It’s the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, and he’s wasting it on shock. As if he can’t quite comprehend why the girl he’s been giving headaches for months might not want to stop and have a friendly chat with him. Not that you imagine he’d even be capable of that if you tried. 

Already, you regret your comment. In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have said anything. You’d be just as detached and cold and aloof as he was on that day you hate to think about. You still remember it like it was yesterday. Without your permission, the memory floats front and center to your mind. 

It was warmer, then. The last clutches of summer were still holding on tight. Sunlight was bright in the sky, and it felt like a good time to breach the barrier of your comfort zone. 

Class had just ended. Usually, Heeseung was one of the first to leave. You had to pack up abnormally quickly just to catch him in the quad right outside the lecture hall. 

But you did catch up to him.

And in a voice braver than you felt, you asked, “Hey, it’s Heeseung, right?” 

You’d been brighter, then. Still full of an energy you haven’t been able to muster since midterms. Not yet burdened by the weight of assignments and rejection, your disposition was as sunny as the sky above. 

Heeseung hadn’t bothered to dignify your question with an actual answer, but he had at least stopped walking, and that seemed like an invitation at the time. Now, with the power of hindsight, you wince. You should have spared yourself the regret.

You remember watching as he pulled out his earbuds, tucking them back into his pocket before turning his attention to you. Or at least half of it. Even then, you never felt like he was truly looking at you, hearing you. His mind always seemed off in the distance, preoccupied somewhere you could never quite reach. 

You recall being nervous, heat in your cheeks as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes tracked the movement like a cat tracks a ray of sunlight. Lazily, intently. With an energy you weren’t quite sure what to do with. 

Instead, you had stuttered, “I, uh, I wanted to tell you that I thought your analysis today was brilliant.” The worst part is that it really was a brilliant analysis. Although you’d never admit that today, and much less to his face. 

Instead, you cringe just thinking about it. You should have taken his blank stare as a sign. You should have just let the one-sided conversation die there. With at least a little dignity and some of your pride left to spare. 

But you hadn’t. 

“I never thought about the use of sunlight as a metaphor for life. I mean, now that you’ve pointed it out, it seems kind of obvious.” The memory of your nervous giggles settle like rocks in your stomach. “Anyway, I feel like I’m rambling, but if you ever want to get together and look through assignments or review each other’s analyses, I’d love to—”

You’d heard his voice before, of course. In class discussions and presentations. But never this close. And never directed at you. 

He kept it short, his interruption, his response to your shaky offer. 

“I’m busy.”

And that was it. Two words. Two fucking words. And not even an explanation or an I’m sorry or a sheepish expression to go along with them. 

With that, you’d watched, a bit helplessly, as he pulled his earbuds out of his pocket, put them back into his ears and turned away from you before you could realize just how thoroughly you’d been rejected. 

With a sudden haze in the air and hope dying in your heart, your friendly smile slipped into confused dismay as you watched him track a steady path across the quad. 

If your cheekbones felt warm before, you were sure they must have been aflame by then. After all, it was your body’s natural response to the crushing weight of the embarrassment and thoroughly bruised ego he’d left you there standing with. 

Fine then, you’d resolved after walking as quickly as you could in the opposite direction, sending a prayer to the heavens that no one from your class had just witnessed the most mortifying interaction you’ve ever had. If Lee Heeseung wanted nothing to do with you, the feeling could be mutual. 

In fact, it was probably for the best. You were vying for that internship and if the past class discussions were anything to go by, Heeseung would be your only real competition. If he was too busy for you, then you would just have to be too busy for him. 

Too busy perfecting every assignment and acing every exam. Too busy drowning in dictionaries and thesauruses and reference materials to make sure everything you submitted was perfect — no, scratch that — better than perfect. 

Too busy to attempt another conversation or interaction or do anything but nod along politely whenever he did make an unfortunately great point in class. 

So, no. Heeseung doesn’t get to dictate your time or attention or conversation now that you’ve actually been awarded with a publishing opportunity, now that all of your efforts and dedication and late nights have paid off. 

If Lee Heeseung wants a bit of your attention on today of all days, at this moment of all moments, then you’re just going to have to be too busy to entertain him. 

Standing in front of you, still blocking your path to the podium, Heeseung has the nerve to look confused. As if you have no reason to give him the cold shoulder. As if you’re the one being unreasonable here. 

His brow furrows further. “What?” It’s the third word he’s ever spoken directly to you. It makes your blood boil. “No, I…” he trails off. You can practically see the gears running in his mind, like this wasn’t the conversation he expected to be having. Like he has no idea how to navigate it now. “I was just going to say that you should maybe reconsider.”

Your voice is ice when you ask, “Reconsider what?” 

“Well…” He’s treading in dangerous territory, and he seems to realize it too. “The internship,” he clarifies, and it’s the second most insulting thing he’s ever said to your face. 

You screw your eyes shut. Cold and detached. Blank and aloof. All the things you should be. But you’ve always run a little hot. And end of the semester exhaustion finds you more willing to throw caution to the wind. 

“You have got to be fucking with me.” Eyes reopening, you’re met with that same expression of mild shock. Brows raised, lips parted. And god, he even looks good like that. “Yeah, right. Let me guess, so you can do the internship and publish a piece of your own? If all you came over to do is insult me, then save your breath.”

“What?” He still looks so damn confused. “No, I—”

You don’t want to hear it. “I have nothing to say to you.” If he won’t get out of your way, you’ll just have to go through him. The shoulder check is maybe slightly more intense than it needs to be as you shove your way past him. He barely stumbles back an inch. It makes you want to rip your hair out. “Besides,” you add, not bothering to turn back to look at him. “I’m busy.”

It’s a dig at him, yes, but it’s also true. You are. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and Lee Heeseung is not about to ruin it for you. 

To your unending gratitude, he doesn’t try to intercept you again. Your path to the front of the lecture hall is clear, and Professor Kim is just tucking his laptop back into his briefcase when you reach the podium. 

Ultimately, it’s a watered down version of the million times you’ve imagined this moment in your head. Even coming on the tail end of the most annoying interaction you’ve had in months. Professor Kim congratulates you again, and hands you a printed schedule of when you’ll be expected at the publishing office for the first time. 

There are also submission dates. Deadlines for you to submit drafts of the piece that you’ll be publishing. You take it all in with a beam and enthusiastic nods, mishap with Heeseung from minutes ago all but forgotten. 

That is, until Professor Kim’s gaze lands somewhere over your shoulder after he tells you he’ll also send you a follow-up email with all the information you need. 

You watch as his expression shifts, something uneasy, distrustful entering his gaze as he looks beyond you. “Something I can help you with, Mr. Lee?”

Following his gaze, you turn to look behind you. The lecture hall is empty, students cleared out from the class that dismissed nearly five minutes ago. All except for one, that is. 

Gone is the shock from Heeseung’s delicately sharp features. Instead, he wears his mask of indifference again, betraying no emotion. You must be imagining the way it looks almost strained this time, as if he’s forcing his expression into neutrality instead of it there of its own accord. 

Wordlessly, his gaze shifts to you. 

And now it’s your turn to be confused, but you won’t let it last long. At least not outwardly. You’re quick to match his gaze with nothing but pure ire, venom dripping seeping from every inch of your glare. 

Is he seriously still trying to ruin this for you? So much for being busy. 

“No, sir.” Heeseung shakes his head. He’s addressing your professor, but he’s still looking at you. A muscle ticks in his jaw, betrays a hint of tension. “I was just on my way out.”

True to his word, he begins a steady descent towards the front door. 

Your professor clears his throat, turns his attention back to you, resuming the wrap-up of your conversation. 

You’re extra grateful for that follow-up email now, given the way movement in your periphery distracts you from Professor Kim’s last few statements. Instead, your focus hones in on the even footsteps that carry Heeseung to the door, allow him to slip through it silently. 

It must be a trick of the light, must be a figment of your overworked, over irritated imagination. But you swear you see him linger there, just on the other side of the small glass window carved into the door. 

Professor Kim says his parting words, and you thank him one final time. If there’s an unnatural quickness in your footsteps as you turn to leave, you tell yourself that it’s because you’re excited to get started on your draft, not because you have the sneaking suspicion Heeseung is still standing just on the other side of the door. 

But you swear that’s his silhouette you see as you draw closer, shrouded in shadows but distinct all the same. You’re debating the merits of shouting at him or maybe accidentally shoulder checking him again as you pull open the door handle, a little more roughly than you intend. 

But the only thing that greets you on the other side of the door is a nearly empty hallway, save for the pair of students bent over a laptop a few paces away. You ignore their twin expressions of shock as you let the door fall closed behind you, much more calmly than you opened it. 

…..

The blank expanse of your notebook stares at you accusingly. 

You’d stare back, if that would somehow make words appear on the page. Sighing, you reach for your long forgotten cup of tea sitting on your desk. Taking a slow sip, you realize it’s gone cold. 

That just makes you double down on your frustration. How long have you been sitting here, waiting for inspiration to strike? 

People always talk about the merits of a change in scenery, but ever since you started your first semester of university three years ago, your favorite place to write has always been here, at the small, simple desk that sits in the corner of your bedroom. 

Back then, writing was a hobby. Something to do when the last of your biochemistry homework was finished. A way to release pent-up stress and tension from long days in the university lab and long hours feeling like you were drowning between all of the extra study sessions, TA workshops, and office hours. 

At first, it had been worth it. You maintained high grades and high spirits. Mostly because of the small sprinkles of support your parents showered you with. 

Every little You got this! that lit up your phone screen on dreary afternoons and We believe in you! that made your evening lectures a little more bearable felt like tokens of your parents’ affection. Something tangible to show for the care they held for you. 

Most of all, you cherished the We’re proud of you messages. You can’t remember the last time you received one. 

And it’s not like they were mad, exactly, when you told them you wanted to change majors. They did their best to be supportive in the ways that they knew how. 

For your father, that was concern. “Are you sure? Literature? What do the job prospects after graduation look like?”

And for your mother, that was letting you know that she thought you were capable of more. Of better. “It’s not that literature is bad, sweetie. It’s just… Well, you’ve always been such a smart girl…”

You get it; you really do. All the questions and prodding comments that felt like criticism were wrapped in nothing but love. But that didn’t do much to soften the sting. 

In the end, it was this desk that made you follow through with your change in major. Slumped in your hand-me-down chair late one Friday night, half finished lab report sitting untouched in your bag, the threat of tears burning at the corners of your eyes, all you wanted to do was write.  

To put into words the feelings and emotions and fantasies and frustrations that you could never seem to express otherwise. To commit a piece of your soul to paper and wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was someone else out there who would read it and find a sense of solidarity, of common ground. 

You submitted your official change request the next morning. You never regretted it once. 

But your parents still make comments, still share their concerns. And for the last three years, you haven’t had anything to show for it except for empty promises. But now, you have something. A real something. 

Publishing a story of your own is the exact validation that you need that your choice was the right one. And it’s the proof you need to assuage your parents’ fears, to show them that pursuing literature was the right call. That you can carve out a life for yourself with it. 

You’ve fantasized about this for years. For the chance to have your voice heard, your words read. There are a million half-baked thoughts and partially written drafts scattered in your notebooks and digital documents and on the corners of takeout napkins that have been lying in wait for a moment just like this. 

But no matter how hard you stare at the page in front of you, the words just won’t come. The more old drafts you scour, the more amateur your writing feels. The more you feel like maybe Heeseung should have won the internship over you. 

It’s a miserable cycle your brain works itself into. The less you write, the more you criticize, the more you wonder. 

What if he hadn’t been late that morning? What if Professor Kim was hoping to choose him instead? What if the reason he didn’t say anything when Heeseung finally arrived in class was because he was so disappointed that his first choice wasn’t an option anymore?

Groaning out loud to an empty room, your head falls on your desk with a muted thud. 

It’s there, facedown on your desk, where an idea strikes you. If you can’t manifest a draft out of thin air, maybe you just need some parameters. A general guide to get the creative juices flowing. 

Lifting your head back up, you push your notebook to the side and reach for your laptop. Opening a web browser, you navigate to New Haven Publishing House’s homepage. 

It’s a simple website, reflective of its simple namesake. Chin in one hand, you click the link that reads Recently Published. 

The list that pops up is modest. Unlike a larger, more corporate publishing house, your professor’s self-made enterprise is churning out new releases at a slower rate and smaller volume. 

Perusing the titles and descriptions, you note that the vast majority of the works are short form fiction. There are very few full length novels. The majority is made up of essay and poetry collections, short stories, and memoirs. 

Scanning the list again, a title close to the top catches your eye. 

The Thirst for Revenge: An Analysis of Contemporary Vampire Activity. It was published less than a month ago. 

Your cursor hovers over the link, brow furrowing. It strikes you as odd that something so… archaic would be published so recently. 

Professor Kim has always come across as a discerning man. Someone that prides himself on his well curated taste. 

But vampires… that’s hardly a headline worthy topic these days. 

While most people still practice caution walking down dark alleyways at night and some even go so far as to carry charms infused with garlic cloves, monsters of the night are by and large a thing of the past.

The entire species of bloodthirsty, ravaging immortals were hunted to near extinction almost two hundred years ago. Those that survived relocated to remote areas. Some adapted to life in the countryside by learning to enjoy the taste of animal blood. Others found humans willing to donate small portions of their own blood intermittently. You won’t pretend to understand, but you suppose it’s preferable to the alternative.  

Some still hunted in the traditional way, of course, but vampire attacks on humans are few are far between these days. After all, vampires, as a means of survival, have all but forsaken major urban areas. Population density spells demise for their species. 

You’d have to confirm through research, but if you remember correctly, the last recorded vampire-related death in your city was nearly two hundred years ago. 

Without bothering to click on the link, you continue scrolling down. Honestly, it was probably just a fluke. After all, who knows? Maybe there’s some niche circle out there that enjoys analyzing vampire literature, regardless of how outdated it is. 

The next title seems a bit more promising. Shadowless Nights. The brief description marks it as a short story published half a year ago. 

You click on it, take a sip of room temperature tea while the page loads. 

Night was my favorite time of day, the first line reads. 

I loved the stillness of it all, the all encompassing serenity. With the moon in the sky and stars in my eyes, every moment felt like a secret between me and the universe. Something we alone shared. 

I whispered secrets to the earth and held hers in return. My days felt like dreams. Distant, blurry, faded. It was only then, in the distinct stillness of midnight, that I truly came alive. 

Interesting, you think. It’s a bit more melodramatic than you expected, but maybe your professor prefers a poetic touch. 

In the night, I earned peace. And in the night, I learned fear. 

It came slowly at first, that sinking feeling of dread. The horrible suspicion that made the hair on the back of my neck feel sharp, the air in my throat feel shallow. 

But if I have learned anything of monsters, it is that they revel in that fear. That sickeningly overt reminder of mortality, of humanity. The way I couldn’t help the racing of my pulse, the darting of my eyes. 

He enjoyed it, toying with me from the shadows. Watching me become desperate, watching me become weak. 

But it paled in comparison, I’m sure, with what came next. Every story has its climax, and every beginning has its end. For him, it was the sweet, clean taste of my blood. 

Wait. Another vampire story? One was strange enough, but for the last two published works at New Haven to be vampire related doesn’t feel like a coincidence. Especially since the more you read, the more you realize it’s not as much of a story as it is thinly veiled anti-vampire rhetoric. 

The dramatized descriptions of a weak, innocent female lead being victimized by a faceless, bloodthirsty monster. It just feels… strange. Outdated. Irrelevant, even. 

Clicking back to the list, you scan over the next five entries. All of them are more or less the same. Some are more metaphorical than others, abstract in their rhetoric, but the topic is always the same. And the conclusion always affirms the immense, inevitable, irredeemable blight that vampirism is to the world. 

It’s just bizarre. Especially considering that Professor Kim never once had you analyze any anti-vampire propaganda throughout the entire semester. In fact, you were never assigned to read anything vampire related at all. 

If this type of literature is so central to his professional career, it doesn't make sense to you that he wouldn’t incorporate it into his class. Especially considering the fact that he was awarding an internship at New Haven to one of the students. 

You take another long sip of cold tea. Well… you could try to come up with something that aligns with the current profile of New Haven’s recently published works. It’s not like you’ve ever written anything related to vampires. Maybe you just need to think of it as a writing exercise, a challenge of sorts. Producing a piece that feels relevant and fresh even if the central topic is a bit out of style. 

According to the revision schedule Professor Kim gave you, your first draft issue in a week and a half. The same day that you’re set to go to New Haven for the first time and tour the office you’ll be interning at once winter break is over. It’s an ambitious timeline, but he did specify that he’s looking more for a solid concept than a well polished draft. But something in you wants to have more than just a concept. You want his approval, to impress him. 

So you have a week and a half to come up with a draft that will catch his attention, that will convince him that you were the right choice for this opportunity. Not anyone else in your class. Not Heeseung. You. 

A concept that will excite New Haven Publishing House’s usual reader base, that will maybe actually earn you some commercial success. 

A story that will prove to your parents that literature was the right choice for you. That your words do matter, that you can make a name for yourself with your writing. 

Well, you think, suppressing an internal groan, it looks like you have your work cut out for you. 

…..

Despite your admitted lack of vampiric knowledge, once you have your topic, the words start to flow. You’re not sure if it’s your best work. You’re not even sure if it’s good. But it feels a hell of a lot better than staring at a blank page for hours. 

This afternoon finds you in the corner of your favorite coffee shop. Mostly because they offer half priced lattes on Wednesdays. As you make a dent in yours, the pen in your other hand continues to fly over the pages of your notebook, occasionally stopping to scratch out a word or rewrite a sentence. 

The bare bones are there. Just like in the handful of stories you perused on New Haven’s website, your plot features a young woman. It’s a historic setting, mostly because you still can’t quite bring yourself to write vampires into the modern day when the reality is so starkly different. 

And it’s not a vampire story. At least not at first glance. Instead, you weave an enduring metaphor to symbolize a parasitic relationship between two lovers.

The woman in your draft is young, full of life and energy and optimism. And she dreams. Vivid, brilliant dreams that she clings to in order to escape the harshness of her reality as a lower class woman in the countryside. 

Her husband, however, is a brute. Older than her and with a decidedly less sunny disposition. When he learns that his health is failing, he discovers that he can heal himself temporarily by stealing these dreams from her. 

So, no. It’s not overtly about vampires. But it does fall into step with some of the more abstract anti-vampire tropes you came across in your preliminary research. 

Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh. 

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer. 

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity. 

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional. 

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes. 

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice. 

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips. 

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim. 

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete,  well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features. 

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday. 

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task. 

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed. 

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening. 

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door. 

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in. 

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day. 

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips. 

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance. 

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person. 

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you. 

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?” 

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe. 

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came. 

Heeseung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it. 

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches. 

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost. 

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you. 

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway. 

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to. 

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes. 

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego. 

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.” 

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now. 

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly. 

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life. 

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heeseung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all. 

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

Sensing your disdain, Heeseung doesn’t respond. Instead, he accepts the notebook you reluctantly hand him with an outstretched hand and an open palm. The transfer between the two of you is gentle. You have the distinct sense that he’ll treat your work with care, in more than one way. 

Still, something in your heart seizes at the thought of letting your work be read. Of letting him be the one to read it. 

In return, he offers you a notebook of his own. Bound in brown, aged leather, it’s certainly much more refined than yours. Of course. 

He hands it to you still closed. Staring down at the cover, you ask, “What page?” It feels intrusive to start flipping through his writing uninvited. 

“There’s a bookmark.” Heeseung nods his chin towards the small piece of paper sticking out of the top edge that you missed at first glance. 

And then the transfer is complete. A piece of your heart is spread open on his desk, and a piece of his soul is in your hands. 

Ignoring the way your fingers tremble with a slight shake, you delicately open his notebook to the bookmarked page, letting it fall open on the desk in front of you. 

At first glance, the writing strikes you as odd. The paragraphs are strange lengths, ending at random junctures instead of extending all the way to the margins. And then it hits you. They’re not paragraphs. They’re stanzas. 

Poetry. Lee Heeseung writes poetry. 

You sneak a sidelong glance at him out of your periphery. He’s already engrossed in the pages of your notebook, pausing occasionally to jot a note down on a scrap piece of paper. His brow is furrowed, and there’s a tension in his jawline that only makes it sharper. 

Still, the image of his profile is shrouded in a distinct sort of softness. The kind of effortless beauty that feels like it should be reserved for intimate moments in the dead of night, secrets passed between lovers. It’s wasted under the fluorescent lights and patchy, beige walls of an underfunded classroom, but you waste another minute staring at him all the same. 

For a fleeting moment, it’s not hard to imagine those hands, those long, delicate fingers maintaining an even grip on a ballpoint pen to write something as romantic as poetry. 

Shaking your head, you clear the errant thoughts. Instead, you turn your focus back to the page in front of you and begin with the first poem. Forcing your eyes to focus, you read. 

As if nothing happened,

She looks at me

With shadowless eyes.

But it is me who has been 

Forgiven and reborn countless times.

You inhale. Exhale. Short and succinct with a distinct twinge of tragedy. That was… not what you were expecting. Pushing forward, you move onto the next entry. 

Even the stars in the universe

Will close their eyes one day.

Underneath their watchful gaze,

All of these moments are precious.

For memory, for regret,

I will carve them

Into the repetition of the moment.

Again, you pause, taking a moment to breathe. It’s so… melancholy, so poignant in its evocation of pain, of regret. While you’ve been familiar with Heeseung’s ability to analyze the hell out of a novella, this was not something you thought you’d find in his repertoire. And the more you read on, the more you realize these aren’t flukes. This is his identity as a writer, or at least a significant part of it. 

The world that abandoned us

Slowly turns to ash. 

But I don’t feel the pain. 

I only feel the cold.

My god. You nearly close the notebook on instinct. Without your permission, your eyes flick ove to the desk next to you. The broad set of shoulders that fill the seat. What has this boy been through? Why is he letting you read this? 

Heeseung looks up. Not at you, but the movement is enough to startle you out of your staring. Returning your eyes to his notebook, you read the last entry on the page. 

A shaded castle with no sun

The thick scent of dying roses never fades. 

In a broken mirror, I see myself. 

And my reflection whispers, “Monster.”

The breath you release is long. Audible. You’re overcome with the urge to run your fingers over his words, to feel the indents his pen made as he carved pain into the page. His writing is gorgeous. It’s beautifully, tragically haunting. Of that much, you’re certain. But you have no idea what to do with that information. 

His words feel too raw, too terribly intimate. Like something that was never meant for your eyes. You can’t understand what on earth possibly possessed him to let — no — to encourage you to read these. 

You can’t fathom any kind of feedback you could offer him. These feel like pieces of his soul, not something to be commodified or commented on in a writing workshop. Discussed in the cold, unfeeling walls of an old classroom.

Despite the discomfort that lingers with each passing stanza, his writing has an almost addictive quality. Over and over, you find yourself rereading each brief poem. You’re searching for meaning, for clarity, for something hidden between the lines that you missed on your first handful of reads. 

Thirty minutes pass in a trance, and Heeseung, true to his word, is the one to break the silence when your half hour is up. 

Mind still reeling, you realize with a sinking feeling that you have absolutely no feedback to give him at all. 

Instead, you turn to face him. Throwing a meaningful glance at where your notebook still lies open on the desk in front of him. Doing your best to not look too hopeful, you ask, “Well?”

For a moment, Heeseung just looks at you, an unreadable expression on his face. Tension pulls at his temple, his jaw. Frustration seeps from beneath his skin, and you can’t tell where it’s directed. 

“Oh, come on,” you prod when his silence extends even longer. “I know you’re dying to spill the gory details of how grossly incompetent I am and how horrifically amateur my writing is, so don’t—”

Heeseung wastes no fanfare. “This is awful.”

Your lips flatten. “Or just cut right to the chase.”

He’s quick to clarify. “But not for any of the reasons you just listed. I mean, sure, there are some craft issues here, but even those seem like a result of your concept.”

“What’s wrong with my concept?” The edge of defensiveness in your voice escapes without your permission. 

Heeseung just levels you with a look. Returning his gaze to your notebook, he reads from your draft verbatim, “...Stashing away the light from her life. Tucking it into his back pocket like extra change just for the satisfaction of temporary happiness. It was never love that bound him to her, but the promise of a never ending fountain of life. Of wishes and thoughts and hopes and dreams that he could use to sustain himself as long as he subjected himself to the numbing pleasure of existing at her side.” 

He raises an eyebrow, turns back to you. “I mean, really, ____? I’ve read some nauseatingly vitriolic vampire pieces in my life, and this just about has all of them beat. Besides, the whole vampire thing just feels so… irrelevant. Do people still read this stuff anymore?”

Your first instinct is to defend yourself, your work, even if his thoughts mirror your own. Before you can, Heeseung is pressing on. You don’t have the space to get a word in sideways. “I mean, what happened to the writing from that piece you presented back in September? I don’t remember all the details, but there was something about watching birds land on water and connecting it to the feeling of belonging but never truly fitting in.” He looks at you again. There’s more emotion, more glittering life in his eyes than you’ve ever seen from him before. “That was a fresh take and a well done metaphor.”

Your mind is reeling. It’s far too much information to take in all at once. But something stands out amongst the rest. Because that almost sounded like— 

“Was that a compliment?” It seems unlikely, but you can’t find another way to take his words. “You paid attention to my presentation?” 

You liked it? You don’t ask that question out loud, but the needier parts of you crave his answer anyway.

“Yeah, of course I did. Peer review was a mandatory component of the course.” Heeseung’s cheekbones remain the same, even, honey-tinted tone, but you swear you see a flash of embarrassment in the way he averts his gaze. 

“Well, yeah.” It’s not a justification that holds much weight in your mind. “But you don’t exactly seem like the type to really pay attention to other people’s stuff. Especially if you think it’s not worth your time.”

“I just told you your presentation was good, didn’t I?”

You arch a brow. “Yeah, right after you finished calling my draft horrific.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “I didn’t say it was horrific…”

“Oh, please. Spare us both the semantics. That’s what you meant.” You’re not sure why your mind always goes back to that day in the quad, but you find yourself still sore from his rejection, his new assertion of your work poking at old wounds. Picking at poorly healed scabs. “And it’s not like you were jumping for joy at the chance to review my work back then, either.”

Heeseung’s brow furrows. You can practically see the gears turning in his mind. You’re not sure if it makes you feel better or worse, the fact that he doesn’t seem to remember that day at all. 

In the end, you decide to spare him the effort of empty recollection. With a sigh, you spill your shame. At least this time around, you’re the only two that will bear witness. “That one day in class. Back at the beginning of the semester. We had to present our analysis of that one short story. You remember, the one about planting seeds in bad soil.” Heeseung nods, but there’s no spark of realization. Not yet. 

Continuing, it only pains you slightly to admit, “Your analysis was brilliant, and I gushed about it in front of the whole class. Laid it on thick with the compliments. And then after class, I stopped you in the quad.” Something flickers over Heeseung’s features. A memory tugging at the back of his mind. “When I asked if you wanted to review each other’s pieces for the next assignment, you completely brushed me off.”

Brow still pulled downwards, Heeseung is thinking back to that day, too. But it doesn't seem to hold the same awful, leaden weight in his mind. “I didn’t brush you off,” he argues. “I think I said I was busy.”

It takes a lot of willpower not to let your jaw drop open. “That’s brushing someone off!” Your voice is too loud for the near empty classroom, for your close proximity. “Like literally the textbook definition. Everyone knows that ‘I’m busy’ is code for ‘leave me the hell alone.’”

Almost imperceptibly, Heeseung’s features soften as he watches yours strain. The fluorescent light bulbs that fill the room suddenly don’t seem quite as harsh when he says, “Well, that's not what I meant. I was busy.”

It’s hardly a satisfying answer. But you suppose it makes little difference. If he wants to stick to his story, you’ll continue to feign indifference. “Whatever. It’s not like it matters now anyway.”

And then your mind is back on his poems. His beautiful, tragic, gorgeously phrased stanzas scribbled in his handwriting. Fragments of vulnerability that he handed to you without hesitation. 

It’s like comparing apples to oranges in a way, but there is no doubt in your mind that between the two of you, the writing he brought tonight is better. Better than your story, better than most things you’ve ever written, probably. The imagery is evocative, striking in a way you’ve never quite been able to achieve no matter how many seminars and workshops and lectures you attend. 

Not for the first time, your brain dangles a dangerous thought in a place where you can’t avoid it. What if Professor Kim chose wrong? What if Heeseung hadn’t been late to class that day? Would you be sitting here with a mediocre draft and a raging inferiority complex?

You’ll never know, not really, but you find yourself asking anyway, “Why were you late to class that day?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you could take them back. It’s not like his answer will change anything. And it’s invasive. Far too personal to ask someone you barely know. That up until thirty minutes ago, you actively avoided. 

But maybe the universe is on your side for once. Maybe you got ridiculously lucky and he didn’t hear you, despite the fact that it’s dead silent in this classroom. Maybe—

“What?”

Or not.

Well, you’re committed now. “The last day of class. When the winner for the publishing opportunity was announced,” you clarify. “You were late. Honestly,” you add with a wry smile, “you’d probably be the one writing overdramatic vampire slander right now if you hadn’t been.”

It’s a self-deprecating joke. It might land poorly, but you’re hoping it will lighten the atmosphere. 

A dark shadow crosses Heeseung’s features. “Trust me, ___. You winning had nothing to do with me being late that day.”

If he thinks flattery will get him anywhere, he’s wrong. You can feel your frustrations bubbling in your throat, clawing at your mind. You won. You beat him. So why doesn’t it feel like it? Why doesn’t it feel like anything you do is ever good enough?

“C’mon, Heeseung.” He doesn’t deserve your anger. At least, not now. But he gets it anyway. Insecurities and inferiority and frustration all wrapped in rage. “You were practically a shoe-in, and everyone knows it.”

He’s just as insistent. Leaning towards you slightly, he looks anything but aloof now. “No I wasn’t. Professor Kim chose you to intern with him. He read both of our submissions all semester and chose you to publish with his firm. I told you, your writing is good. Really good.” Glancing down at your notebook, he adds, “Even if this one is a bit… uninspired.”

A compliment and a slight. His version of the truth, wrapped up in a bow and delivered right to your waiting ears. You don’t know whether to be furious or overjoyed. Maybe it would be best to feel absolutely nothing at all. It scares you, just how much weight his opinion holds. 

But approval from him has its way of feeling like a long sought victory, and now the air feels fraught with something delicate, fragile. Precarious, even. 

It’s early evening in a threadbare classroom. The most neutral territory imaginable. But it’s the two of you, alone, secluded. And suddenly, that frightens you. 

“Right.” You won’t tell him ‘thank you’ for the compliment or ‘go fuck yourself’ for the criticism. Both options feel like you would be revealing too much. 

Instead, you take a glance at the clock. It’s not late, but it’s an excuse. “I should probably get going.”

Heeseung exhales. Leans back in his seat. “Of course,” he concedes easily, reaching to hand you your notebook.

You do the same with his, almost sad to watch his poetry pass from your hands to his. It’s odd, the way his words already feel like something you’ll miss. 

You realize then that he hasn’t asked you for your opinion on his work. For your advice on how to make it better. In all honesty, you’re relieved. You haven’t the slightest idea what you would say. 

So instead, you busy yourself with repacking your tote bag. In your haste, you knock your pen off of your desk. The sound it makes as it strikes the thinning carpet can’t be loud, but it feels thunderous in your ears. 

As you reach to pick it up, Heeseung does the same. There’s a moment, fleeting but unmistakable, when the skin of his hand brushes against yours. 

Instantly, Heeseung recoils as if you’ve burned him. His hand is back in his own space at a speed so fast you nearly miss it. 

It was an accident, a tiny blip with no real consequences, but the way he’s looking at you with those damn eyes makes you feel like you should be apologizing. 

“Sorry.” The severity of his reaction stings like rejection. It’s not like he’s exactly your favorite person either, but at least you have the common decency to not look repulsed at the thought of touching him. At the accidental brushing of your hands. 

Heeseung frowns. Shakes his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts. “No, I…” he trails off, letting his words hang in the air for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he concludes, but it feels disingenuous. And he doesn’t bother to elaborate. Looking over your shoulder, he reads the clock on the wall. “It’s getting kind of late. Where are you parked? I can walk you to your car.”

His hands are busy putting his notebook back in his back. It’s a considerate offer, but coming on the tail end of everything else, it doesn’t hold much weight with you. His words don’t match his actions, and you decide you’d be a fool to take them at face value. 

“Don’t bother. I’m walking home, not driving.”

Heeseung freezes, hand still inside his bag. He’s not looking at you, but you feel the weight of his attention all the same. “Do you need someone to walk with you?”

The way he phrases the question makes you feel like a burden. He’s asking if you need someone to walk with you, not offering because he wants to. A subtle difference maybe, but the last thing you want is to feel like you owe him any favors. 

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” He does look at you now, concern painted across his features. “It’s getting dark earlier these days, and—”

His words are wasted on you. You’re already halfway to the door. “I’m sure.” But before you leave, you decide one more hit to your pride can’t worsen the damage that’s already been done. At least this time, it will be by your doing. Standing under the doorframe, you turn back to him. “Thank you for your feedback. It was good to hear an honest opinion.”

Your words sink into the air. Linger for a moment. 

Heeseung nods. Something in his jaw tightens. “You know, if you do decide to change topics, I’d be happy to read whatever you write.”

It almost sounds like another compliment. Or maybe another insult. Either way, you’re sure that even if you figure it out, you’ll still have no idea what to do with it. You nod, only once, and then your back is turned again before you can linger too long on any of it. 

But his words, the sweet ones this time, replay in your mind the entire walk home. 

Maybe if you weren’t so distracted by the ghosts of compliments, you’d have noticed the pair of quiet, even footsteps that trailed after you in the distance. That only retreated once the front door to your apartment was pulled shut and locked tight behind you. 

Then again, maybe not. Heeseung has always had a knack for going undetected. 

…..

You wake up the next morning with Heeseung’s words replaying in your mind. 

Awful. Irrelevant. And of course your favorite, ‘nauseatingly vitriolic vampire piece.’

In the faded glow of morning light, you groan out loud to your empty bedroom. The worst part of it all is that he’s not even wrong. But it’s Saturday morning, and your first draft is due on Wednesday. The thought of starting a new story from scratch and writing it to completion within that time frame is enough to make you want to curl into a ball and screw your eyes shut until you can pretend the world outside your bedroom is nothing but a figment of your imagination. 

So no, you don’t think you can start over entirely. But maybe, just maybe, you can rework things. Tweak the narrative to feel less cliche, less outdated. More true to you. 

Part of you wants to abandon the vampire concept entirely, convinced it’s what’s holding you down. The other part is hesitant to do so based on New Haven’s list of recently published works. 

And while Heeseung’s criticism was the confirmation you needed that your story needs reworking, it’s not like he gave you any ideas as to what you should change. What direction you should take.

Nauseatingly vitriolic vampire piece. That seemed to be Heeseung’s biggest problem with your draft. Not that it alluded to vampirism. No, you think he disliked that it was a tired and rehashed propaganda piece on the inherent evilness of vampires. 

Everyone knows that vampires were monsters. Writing about it, no matter how many metaphors and symbolic phrases you wrap it up in, just isn’t interesting. 

That’s the route you’ll take, then, you decide. You don’t have to invent a new concept out of thin air. You just need to find a way to bring something new to the table. Something worth reading. Climbing out of bed, you switch your pajamas for clothes more acceptable in public. 

And then you make your way to the university library. 

Just as you suspected, it’s essentially empty. Between long rows of meticulously shelved books, vacant study rooms, and community computers, the only other person you see is the librarian that greets you as you arrive. Even her eyebrows raise in mild shock to see someone else during the break, and on a weekend at that.

Heading to the second floor, the first section you peruse through is historical records. But between old newspapers, reports, and journals, the content itself is quite cut and dry. Detached descriptions of vampire attacks that only contain details of the date, time, and death toll aren’t exactly riveting. And you don’t think they’ll do much for your feeble draft. 

Before long, you move away from the nonfiction section. Navigating to supernatural fiction on the third floor, you start browsing titles. Vampire stories make up a rather small portion of the texts, and from what you can tell, the vast majority align with what you found on New Haven’s website. 

From Demons of the Dark to Left in Cold Blood, you doubt that most of what you find will offer any kind of new perspective. But on your third, slightly desperate scouring of the shelf, you make a discovery. 

It’s a small, nondescript book. The muted tones and faded lettering on the spine go easily undetected amongst the much flashier copies of anti-vampire propaganda it’s nestled between. 

Pulling the book out from the shelf with a delicate touch, you flip the cover face-up in your hand. 

Sacred Monsters: A Collection of Essays on the Origins of Immortality

It piques your interest. At the very least, it seems different from all the other novels. 

Book in hand, you make your way to a nearby desk. Once you’re settled in, you pull out your notebook, opening to a new page with the intention of taking notes. 

The book you lay on the desk next to your notebook seems like it’s lived a long life, the old scent of dust and aged paper and time all contained within its pages. Flipping open the front cover, you look for an author or publication date. But there’s nothing there, not even a title page or a table of contents. 

Glossing over the slight oddity, you decide the beginning is as good a place as any to start. 

The Taste of Blood, is the title at the top of the page. 

And the first sentence begins:

It is neither sweet nor particularly savory. There is no distinct aroma, no compelling flavor profile, nothing that appeals to the eye or excites the taste buds. The only merit is the fact that it is necessary. For even those blessed with immortality know what it means to survive. And even those cursed to live forever know what it means to die. 

Frowning, you flip back to the cover, as if that will provide any clarity for the strange passage you just read. But nothing is different. Nothing new stands out. Just the same, faded title. No author or indication of any kind of publication date. 

Intrigued, you turn back and resume where you left off. 

Some are said to enjoy the act. The purity of release, of giving in to the instincts that can be convinced into domesticity but never fully silenced. I have never found such relief. The ghost of my humanity has always been stronger than the voice of the monster, even as he screams with unbounded ferocity. 

Without it, I feel incomplete. With it, I feel irredeemable. Even now, I dodge the truth, omit the profane. I have seen many moons, enjoyed their silver glow. I have stolen the very same pleasure from countless others. And yet, I struggle to call it by name. I cannot reconcile the battles waged in my bones, the war fought in my mind. 

There is no winner in either. All that remains in the taste of it. Lingering on my breath. Haunting my waking dreams. That which I cannot name. 

The taste of blood. 

In my fervor, it soothes like honey. In my regret, it turns to ash. 

And still, nothing changes. And still, nothing remains the same.

-- Anonymous

Well, if you were looking for something different, you found it. Because what the absolute fuck are you reading? If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it were written from the perspective of a vampire. 

Then again, shelved in the fiction section, you suppose it’s plausible. Actual vampires may have housed little room in their consciousness for anything outside of bloodlust, but it is an interesting idea to think of vampires as conflicted. Haunted by the brutality of their innate instincts. 

You’re not exactly sure how or if this will be able to influence your own story for the better, but something about it makes you want to keep reading. 

Alone, tucked amongst the dusty shelves of a neglected section of the library, you lose yourself between the pages of the mysterious book. 

As the title indicated, it’s a collection of essays. Most are quite short, around the same length as the first one you read. And none are claimed by an author. All are signed off with the same boldface type that spells Anonymous. There are subtle differences in the writing though, stylistic choices that make you think that more than one person wrote these essays. 

Despite that, they’re all woven together by a common thread. The first essay, as you discover, was not a fluke. Every single one is written in first person from the perspective of a vampire. 

The writing is compelling, humorous in places and deeply upsetting in others. It seems odd to you, just how much humanity is captured within the pages, within each turn of phrase. 

You feel inclined to root for the narrator in some stories and abjectly horrified by them in others. But never once does the writing make you think that vampires are incapable of self-actualization, of reflection, of morality. 

In all honesty, aside from Heeseung’s poems, it’s the most interesting thing you’ve read in ages. So much so that by the time you realize you’ve finished the last essay, the winter sun is teeming dangerously close to the horizon, and the library is nearing its closing hours. 

The notebook page you intended to use for notes, to jot down points of inspiration, is still woefully blank. But as you make your way back to the front of the library, the small, strange book comes along with you. 

Stopping at the front desk to formally check it out, the librarian frowns when she enters the number from the spine into the system. She clicks around on her computer for a moment longer before handing the book back to you. 

“I’m sorry, but the book isn’t coming up in our system for some reason. Would you mind writing down your student ID number for me? I’ll have to enter the information manually.”

You oblige her request, tucking the book into your bag before you leave. 

It’s chilly outside, the cold clutches of winter gaining a full grasp on the crisp, frigid air. After a long day in a stuffy library, the freezing air is almost soothing. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you turn towards the direction that will take you home. 

You’ve barely taken five steps when a voice calls your name from behind. Pausing, you turn to find the source of the sound. 

“Heeseung?” But there’s no mistaking it. That is most definitely Lee Heeseung, currently jogging towards you on the otherwise empty sidewalk in front of the university library. 

He catches up to you easily, no sign of perspiration or even a hint of breathlessness when he asks, “What are you doing walking alone at night?” As if you’re the strange one in this situation.

You give him a once over. The loose jeans and dark winter coat he wears are nothing special, but he wears them well regardless. You suppress the urge to sigh. “I could ask you the same.”

“Fair enough.” His tone is too light, too casual. Like he’s forcing it. Like he’s hiding something. “Are you headed home? I’ll walk you there.”

And if you weren’t suspicious before, you sure as hell are now. Why on earth would he want to walk you home? “I’m fine, thanks.” You turn away from him, heading in the direction of your apartment and hoping he’ll take the hint. 

Your wish goes ungranted. He matches your pace easily, even as you try to quicken it. “It’s after dark, ___. And there are a lot of…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “strange people out at night these days. I’m not letting you walk home alone.”

Lips tight, you don’t bother looking at him. The idea of Heeseung letting you do anything makes you want to throw things. “I’ll be fine.”

But he’s persistent. He’s all smiles and a strange amount of desperate when he says, “Either you let me walk you back or I’ll just follow you at a weird distance, which will be far more uncomfortable for both of us.”

That makes you stop in your tracks. And now you do turn to look at him. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Heeseung nods, “Exactly. So—”

You arch an unimpressed brow, crossing your arms over your chest. “It sounds like you’re the strange person at night I need to stay away from.”

Heeseung sighs, matches your eye. A strand of hair falls into his eyes, and he pushes it away with long fingers. “Are you gonna start walking or are we gonna stand here and argue a little longer?”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“What a great night to find out.”

You stare at him a moment longer, lips tight. You don’t want to be the one to give in, to hand him any kind of victory, no matter how small. 

But it is getting late. The walk from campus to your apartment is never one that’s made you uneasy, but it never hurts to have someone at your side. Besides, you think he was serious about following you. He’s made it clear that he’ll be tagging along one way or another. 

“Fine,” you huff, arms still crossed over your chest. “But only because the streetlight a few blocks away is out.”

Heeseung inclines his head, a minute acknowledgement. There’s a hint of movement at the corner of his lips. “Naturally.”

You resume walking, and he falls into your pace with a practiced ease, hands in his pocket, eyes on the stars. It’s a cloudless evening. The sky above you feels vast, immense as the last rays of daylight lie to rest on the distant horizon. 

With a slight shiver, you pull your jacket tighter around your body. Heeseung notices the movement. Parts his lips as if he wants to say something. Changes his mind. Closes them. 

You’ve just reached the far edge of campus when he breaks the steady silence. 

“How’s your draft coming?”

“It’s…” You trail off, not sure how well honesty will serve you here. It feels vulnerable, like a blatant weakness to admit that you’ve got nothing. But something about cold air and the vast expanse of night has you wanting to tell the truth. “Not great.”

Heeseung lets your response settle. Turns it over in his mind a few times. You’ve noticed that about him. He’s careful with his responses. Weighs his words before breathing them to life. “Still looking for inspiration?”

“I don’t know if it’s inspiration I need.” It’s easier to talk to him like this, when your eyes have something to focus on, when your body has the constant repetition of steps to occupy part of your mind. Without little distractions like these, Heeseung has a way of becoming all consuming. “I feel like I backed myself into a corner with the vampire concept. I’m not sure if there's really anything there to explore that won’t feel outdated and irrelevant.” 

“Mm,” Heeseung muses. It’s noncommittal, neither an agreement nor an argument. “Maybe. You said it yourself; vampires are nothing but bloodlust. Riled completely by instinct. Nothing left of their humanity.”

Frowning, your footsteps almost falter. “I didn’t say that.”

“Forgive me.” If there’s a tinge of bitterness in his tone, you suppose it must be because of the cold. The fact that he’s wasting his Saturday night walking you home. “Heavily implied it.”

“Honestly, the only reason I even wrote that story was because there were a lot of similar ones on New Haven’s list of recently published works.” Your reasoning feels almost stupid when you admit it aloud like this. You’ve always prided yourself on your originality, your commitment to staying true to yourself as a writer. But when push comes to shove, you let your desire to impress your professor get in the way of that. “I wanted something that would align with their usual publications.” 

You’ve admitted a weakness, a poorly made choice. You’re expecting ire, more of that haughty contempt. But Heeseung’s mind is going in an entirely different direction.

He’s not questioning your abilities, not even alluding to them at all when he asks, “What do you think of vampires, then?”

His question catches you off guard. Why on earth would he care about that? “What’s it to you?”

“My bad. We can just walk in awkward silence if you prefer.”

It takes a ridiculous amount of your energy to swallow the laugh that bubbles in your throat. Since when did Heeseung crack jokes? Since when did you have to fight the urge to giggle at them like a schoolgirl with a crush? You suddenly find yourself grateful for the cover of night, the way shadows make the heat on your cheeks undetectable. 

But his question still lingers. Ruminating on it, your mind flickers to the small, odd book currently sitting at the bottom of your bag. 

Sacred Monsters. 

It feels like a strange combination of words, two concepts that shouldn’t fit together. 

“I think it’s more complicated than that,” you breathe. You don’t know if it could possibly be true, the idea that creatures of the night have a high level of consciousness, the ability to moralize, to feel conflicted. But it certainly makes for a more interesting story. 

“I mean, vampires had to have some level of base cognition, right?” You’ll never know for sure, but the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. “They were hunted to near extinction, but they put up a good fight. They hid. They fled. They tried blending in as humans. Some resorted to drinking animal blood. I guess there’s no way of knowing, but that doesn’t feel like pure biology or an evolutionary response alone. It feels like… something a human would do.”

“Wouldn’t that be worse?” Heeseung’s voice is low. If the faint hum of faraway traffic were any louder, you might not hear him at all. “For them to know what it means to be alive and still make the choice to take that away from someone else? To exist as a parasite.”

“It would certainly be tragic.” The words of the first essay come back to you. 

For even those blessed with immortality know what it means to survive. And even those cursed to live forever know what it means to die.

“It’s a fatal flaw, a cruel design. They need blood to survive. The very thing that their bodies used to create on their own. It’s parasitic, yes, but that doesn’t make it animal instinct. I can’t imagine the horror of having to experience that with the burden of human consciousness.” 

You feel the weight of Heeseung’s gaze on the side of your face. “It’s still evil, is it not?”

His words feel heavy, weighted under moonlight. Though you can’t imagine why, you have the distinct sense that your answer is important to him. 

“Like I said, I think it’s more complicated than that. Taking someone’s life is evil, yes, but that was never unique to vampires. Is a vampire that chooses animal blood still evil just because they’re a vampire? Is a human that chooses to kill another absolved of their crime just by virtue of being human?”

Your words settle into the space between you. 

“That,” Heeseung finally breathes, “would make a much better story than the one I read last night.”

This time, you do laugh, a light airy thing. It feels easy, lighthearted as some of the tension drains from the atmosphere.

“Unfortunately, I’m not so sure Professor Kim would agree. Based on everything New Haven publishes, he seems to have some weird anti-vampire vendetta.”

As you round the corner, your apartment comes into view. Nodding toward the staircase that leads to your front door, you tell him, “This is me, by the way.”

Heeseung glances at the stairs, then back at you. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. “When is your draft due?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groan. “Wednesday.”

“Mm,” he winces, an offer of understanding. “What time?”

“I’m supposed to be at New Haven by three, so—”

“What?” Heeseung cuts you off, expression suddenly tense, voice suddenly sharp. “You’re going to the publishing office?”

“Yeah.” You nod slowly, unsure why that would possibly warrant such a strong reaction. “I’m dropping off my first draft and getting a tour. The internship starts right when spring semester does, so he told me I could come in person to familiarize myself with the space first.”

“Right.” Heeseung nods. The tension in his jaw doesn’t relax.

It’s all so strange. He always seems to be speaking in riddles, dealing with invisible problems you can’t detect. 

You’re tired and confused, and the moon that hangs above you doesn’t feel like a remedy for either of those things. In fact, it might be making things worse. 

Because despite the way you feel like you’ll never quite understand him, bathed in the shimmering glow of moonlight, Heeseung looks… 

He looks like all the things you’ve been trying to avoid calling him for the duration of the semester. Ethereal. Beautiful. Maybe even kind, at least when he wants to be. 

After all, you’re standing at the base of your staircase with company, and it wasn’t due to any insistence on your end. 

The silence lingers. A string somewhere is pulled taught. 

You’re standing still, and you’re still a little breathless when you tell him, “I should go.” You don’t want to. You’re not sure why. 

Again, Heeseung only nods. 

The movement sends shadows dancing over his features. The bridge of his nose. The plane of his cheek. The line of his jaw. Things you’ve never let yourself linger on. Things you’re having a hard time looking away from now. 

 But he’s seen you home safe and sound, and even nights under the stars have their inevitable end. 

It occurs to you then that you have no idea how he plans to get home, or even how far away he lives. 

After he walked you home,it’s the least you could do to offer, “Do you live far? I could help you pay for a cab or something if—”

Heeseung shakes his head. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It won’t take me long. Besides, I like to walk at night.”

“Okay.” It feels strange, trading these bits of kindness. You’re craving some normalcy, something unwavering. So with a final wave and a small goodnight, you climb the stairs to your door. 

You couldn’t say for sure if his eyes follow you on the way up. You feel the heat of them, the weight of a steady gaze on your spine. But it’s a fickle sensation and you’ve been wrong before. And you can’t quite bring yourself to turn around and look. 

The door closes behind you. Surrounded by the stillness of an empty apartment, you release a long held exhale. It drains out of you audibly. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath. 

…..

Dawn breaks Wednesday morning and carries with it a certain kind of dread. 

Despite your efforts, and there have been many, your draft remains far too close to its original state for your satisfaction. No matter how many times you pour over Sacred Monsters, you can never quite seem to find a way to make your submission more interesting while also staying true to New Haven’s general themes. 

If anything, the book has been a distraction. Long hours that you could have spent editing or revising or rewriting were instead dedicated to detailed web searches with a variety of keywords and spellings that never seemed to bear any fruit. 

It doesn’t matter which search engine you use. It doesn’t matter which database you browse. Other than the copy sitting on your desk, Sacred Monsters doesn’t seem to exist. 

But the annoying, wonderful, awful thing about time is that it passes. Time doesn’t care that you haven’t found it in yourself to produce a draft you’re proud of. Time doesn’t relent just because you always feel like it’s slipping through your fingers. 

And Wednesday morning turns to Wednesday afternoon with the same steady predictability as always. 

You’d like to think that you know the area around your university quite well, but New Haven’s main office is in an entirely different part of the city. You’ll have to leave now if you want to catch the bus with a little cushion of time to spare. The last thing you want to do is be late to your first day. Especially since the draft tucked neatly into your bag isn’t one you can hand over with confidence. 

To your relief, the bus is relatively empty. You tuck yourself into a seat and thank your lucky stars that you missed the afternoon rush. 

Popping your headphones in, you’re searching for something to fill the time. There’s the draft sitting in your bag, of course, but the last thing you want to do is spend the next thirty minutes agonizing over it. For now, it will just have to be the mess of mediocrity that it is. 

Instead, you reach for your phone. Maybe some mindless scrolling will be what you need to put your nerves at ease. 

But when the app loads, the first post you see doesn’t have you giggling or rolling your eyes or scrolling on without a thought at all. Instead, your spine straightens, shoulders suddenly tense. 

Because the words you’re reading are not something you ever expected to see in your lifetime. 

Three dead in suspected vampire attack, the latest headline from your local news reporting channel reads. 

Clicking on the article, the details are hazy, but that does little to lessen the grip of fear that makes a sudden grab at your throat. Fragments of sentences capture your attention as you scan the page. 

Three bodies found near the river…

Bite marks on their necks…

No trace of recent animal activity in the area…

Eyes widening with every new piece of information, fear claws at your throat. 

Bodies completely drained of blood.

Two hundred years. Two hundred years of the belief that vampires have all but been eradicated. Shattered in one fell swoop. 

And in your city, of all places. At the river. Somewhere you’ve been. Somewhere you wouldn’t think twice about going. It’s not particularly close to your apartment or university, but it’s not exactly far enough away for comfort.

You shudder, suddenly grateful that Heeseung was there to walk you home last night. Not that he would be able to do much if you did stumble across the path of a vampire, but—”

Oh god. Oh god. 

Heeseung. 

You have no idea if he made it home safe after parting ways with you and you have no way of checking. He hadn’t made any indication as to where he lived before saying goodnight. For all you know, he could have been heading in the direction of the river. He could have been at the river. Right when the attacks occurred. 

Doubling down on your phone, you scour the article for any information you can find on the victims. Objectively, it’s probably a good thing that they’re described only vaguely. Probably an intentional choice to protect the privacy of grieving friends and families. 

But ‘three victims, two men and one woman, all in their early twenties’ does very, very little to assuage your terror. In fact, it only heightens it. 

Blood pounding in your ears and dread pooling in your stomach, thirty minutes passes in the blink of an eye, you nearly miss your stop. But as you get off of the bus, you’re spiraling. Should you even be here? It feels wrong, leaving such a terrifying loose end untied. 

But then you think it through a little further. Even if you got back on the bus, rode it all the way to the stop by your apartment, you have no idea where you’d go from there. You may have shared insults and confidence and a moment under the moonlight with Heeseung, but you don’t know anything about him. Where he lives, where to reach him, where he could possibly be right now. 

But Professor Kim might. You’re sure that student information is strictly confidential, but if you explain the situation to him, he might be understanding, might just be willing to bend the rules a bit for you. 

So with a heaviness in your heart and fire in your footsteps, you double check the address of New Haven’s office and start walking away from the bus stop. Your surroundings are not a primary area of your focus, but it does strike you as odd how deserted the whole area seems. 

Other than a few residential looking buildings, the street you walk is mostly empty lots. Abandoned houses. Not the kind of place you would consider ideal for any business. 

Despite the cold morning sunshine, the afternoon has brought a cover of clouds. Squinting towards the distance, you wonder if you should have brought your umbrella, just in case. It almost looks as if it’s going to rain. 

When you do finally find the building, you have to stop to double check the address. Not only is there no signage, but New Haven’s supposed headquarters looks just as run down as all of the other buildings in the area. 

Frowning, you reread your email. The address does match the faded numbers next to the front door, and Professor Kim seems too meticulous to make a mistake like an incorrect address. Then again, he also seems too well off to run his publishing company out of a decrepit building far away from any of the city’s major business centers. 

But you won’t bother worrying about it now. Even your dreary first draft feels like an afterthought at this point. Who cares if the building’s not what you expected, if the location isn’t ideal? Right now, you need to focus on finding Heeseung, on making sure he’s okay. 

Because the alternative…

No, you refuse to let yourself spiral there either. But the pressure of grief borrowed from the future is already pressing firmly against the backs of your eyelids, blurring your surroundings. 

As you approach the front door, you notice a small, faded placard. 

New Haven. Well, at least that confirms that you’re in the right spot. Even if it is a bit odd that they left off Publishing. 

Standing at the door, you hesitate. Should you knock? Just walk in? You take a sidelong glance at the window, scanning for any sign of movement. But there’s nothing there. In fact, it looks as if the lights are off. 

Dark, quiet, desolate. Strange, yes, but not something you’ll waste time ruminating on now. 

You knock once. Twice. The sound echoes; the only response is the whistling of the wind.

Deep in the pit of your stomach, a sense of unease begins to build. It feels off, like something is wrong. Senses on high alert, you force the feeling aside. You need a way to find Heeseung, to make sure he’s okay. Besides, the lingering unease is probably just the anxiety of not knowing if he’s safe. 

Steeling your resolve, you reach for the door handle, twisting it tentatively. It opens slowly, the hinges groaning in protest. As if the building itself doesn’t want you there. Stepping inside does little to shake the feeling. Dark and devoid of any decoration, the interior is nearly as gloomy as the sunless sky outside. 

And even the layout of the building is strange. The front door opens to a long, dark hallway with no lights on. It’s eerily quiet. Too quiet. Too empty. You weren’t expecting a welcoming party by any means, but it’s hard to imagine anyone, much less Professor Kim, even being here. 

“Hello?” You call, clutching your bag a little closer to your body, suppressing the shudder that licks at the base of your spine. “Professor Kim?” You wait a moment, but sustained silence is the only response. 

Forcing your footsteps forward, you tread tentatively down the hallway. After all, you didn’t come this far just to turn around. Especially now that Professor Kim might be your only way of finding Heeseung. 

Taking slow steps down the dark hallway, you pass two doors, both of them pulled shut. The end of the hall opens into a larger room, still empty of any furnishings. It certainly doesn’t look like a publishing house. It doesn't look like much at all. At the very least, there’s a bit more visibility here, faint traces of faded daylight streaming in through the half drawn blinds on the other side of the room. 

Turning to your left, you see another door. This one is also pulled shut, but there’s a name placard on the front. Drawing closer, you read your professor’s name. It still doesn't feel right. Ducking down slightly, you check the gap between the bottom of the door and the hardwood floor for any sign of light, of movement. But it’s just as dark, just as quiet as the rest of the strange building. 

As you stand back up to your full height, you raise a hand to knock. Just before your knuckles make contact with the door, you see it. An odd array of crimson stains near the handle. Peering closer, your brow furrows in a combination of disgust and confusion. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think it looked like blood. 

But that doesn’t make any sense. None of this does. You won’t pretend to know Professor Kim, but he’s never shown up to a lecture with so much as a hair out of place. Why on earth would he run his publishing company out of a building that’s nearly falling apart? Why would there be strange, suspicious looking stains on the door to his office? Why would it be empty at the time he asked you to come present your draft and tour your future internship location?

You have no idea what to do. Opening the door to his office and letting yourself in would feel like an inappropriate invasion of privacy, but you’re at a loss. This entire thing is so strange. 

Before you can decide how to proceed, you hear something. A faint noise, barely there, but distinct from the wind that still whistles outside. It’s disjointed, arrhythmic like the sound of hushed voices. Overlapping. Arguing, maybe. 

Inclining your head, your brow creases further. It sounds like it’s coming from your professor’s office, but how could it be? The noises are too muffled, too distant to be coming from right in front of you. 

You lean closer. Deciding you’re past the point of maintaining decorum, you press your ear to the door, careful to avoid any of the suspicious looking stains. 

For a moment, you hear nothing. Half convinced the voices were nothing but a figment of your overactive imagination, you almost pull away. 

But then you hear them again. Still muffled, still indecipherable, but undoubtedly louder than before. Which means they must be coming from behind the door. The voices pause, suspend you in silence once again. 

And then you hear another noise, different this time. Less like a voice and more like movement. Scuffling, maybe. Feet dragging against the floor. It’s punctuated by a strange gurgling noise. Something wet and thick and throaty. The kind of sound that makes you wince in a subconscious reaction. 

And then a sudden thump has your bones jolting beneath your skin, everything muscle in your body tensing as you suppress an uninvited gasp. Because that didn’t sound far away. It was loud, too loud to be anywhere but right on the other side of the door. 

Mild unease is quick to transform into sheer panic as you stagger backwards on shaky footsteps. You need to leave. You need to leave now. 

You’ll find another way to get ahold of Heeseung, to make sure he’s okay. And maybe there’s a rational explanation for all of this. Maybe this is an old New Haven office and Professor Kim forgot to send you the new address. Maybe there’s an email in your inbox now, and he’s apologizing for the oversight and rescheduling your draft meeting. Maybe he’s—

The sound of the front door you walked in through minutes ago slamming shut kills the train of thought. This time, you can’t bite down the noise that crawls up your throat. 

It’s stupid, from a logical perspective. A fatal flaw of human nature that your first instinct is to scream. To alert whatever danger surely lurks nearby of your exact location, the precise depth of your fear. 

But the terror that leaves your lips is muffled. It comes from behind, the palm that covers your mouth. The outline of a body that presses into your back, forces you into submission with a hand around your wrist.  

You thrash against the ironclad grip to no avail. Dig your heels into the ground but find little purchase in the hardwood floor as you’re dragged backwards, every nerve in your body singing with terror as you’re forced into a dark room. Even with your elbows flailing and head jerking, the grip on you remains steady, firm. 

In the end, it’s a bite that frees you. The hand that covers your mouth drops away as soon as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your captor’s fingers. There’s a muffled grunt of pain in your ear as you spin on your heel. 

Again, it’s stupid. You should be running, sprinting in the opposite direction, but everything in you is begging to know. To gain some sense of control over the situation. Eyes still adjusting to the dark and blinded by fear, you turn to find—

“Heeseung?” Your mind is spinning a million miles a minute. There are too many thoughts, too many emotions to keep up with. Relief. Fear. Confusion.

Relief, because he’s okay and he’s here, but—

“What are you doing?” You have a million questions that demand answers. “Why are you here? Why did you grab me like th—”

“Are you okay?” Heeseung takes a step closer to you, reaches his hands out as if to grab you again. Thinking better of it, he lets them fall back to his side with a slight shake of his head. There’s terror in his eyes too when he clarifies, “You’re not hurt?”

“No, I…” What the hell is going on? “I’m fine, but—”

A flash of relief makes itself apparent on Heeseung’s features before they’re morphing again, regaining all the urgency, the fear that was there before. He’s serious, gravely so when he tells you, “We have to get out of here.”

“Okay,” you stumble forward as he reaches for your wrist again, intent on tugging you behind him. “But I don’t understand. What’s—”

“I’ll explain everything later.” He’s frantic, you realize. Desperate. And so terribly afraid. Emotions you’ve never seen him wear. Not in the cool, calm mask of indifference he had in class. Not in the faint flickers of vulnerability from stolen moments under moonlight. This is different. This is so much worse. “But we have to go. Now.”

With that much command in his voice, that much fear in his eyes, you’re putty in his hands. But in the end, it makes little difference. The door to the room he’s dragged you into opens with a resounding bang before the two of you can make your escape. The sound is so loud, so frightening that you feel reverberations in your marrow as the door collides with the room’s interior wall, no doubt leaving a sizable dent.

And standing there, shrouded by the gray tones of sunless winter daylight, your professor blocks the room’s only exit. 

Instinctively, you take a step closer to Heeseung. He does the same, pulling you towards him, behind him, until half of your body is covered by his. Peering over his shoulder, the sight that greets you is one that will haunt waking nightmares for a long time to come. 

Professor Kim, who always prided himself on maintaining a neat, clean appearance couldn’t be further from that now. His clothes are ripped, hanging from his body at odd angles, adding an element of disfigured monstrosity to his silhouette. 

And his eyes. His eyes. Bloodshot and so wide they must hurt, they dart around the room, narrow in on you and Heeseung like he doesn’t see humans. Only targets. Enemies. Prey. Mouth open and snarling, you swear you see a glint in his mouth, the shape of a tooth far too long and pointed to belong to any normal person. 

But even those things you could force yourself to forget. 

What horrifies you the most is the blood. Even in the shadows, the unnaturally potent shade of crimson is unmistakable. It stains him, covers him, drips from him. Seeps from his clothes and his skin and his mouth. 

Panic clawing at your throat, you suppress the urge to vomit. 

“Get behind me,” Heeseung whispers, low. “Now.”

But a split second of averted attention is all your professor needs. Professor Kim, lover of literature, beacon of taste, a role model you’ve looked up to since the first time you stepped foot in his class a handful of months ago, pinches a tiny object between his long, bony, blood-covered fingers. And then he throws it. 

With startling precision, it whistles through the air, races through a hazy cloud of confusion and panic before it strikes its target true. 

It doesn’t hurt, not really. The hand that flies to the side of your neck is instinct, more than anything. But the fingers that linger on your pulse point don’t find the smooth expanse of your unblemished throat that they usually would. 

Because there’s something there now. An object lodged just beneath your jaw. Delicately, you draw your hand back in front of your face. There’s no blood on your fingers, but that doesn’t stop them from shaking. 

As you look over Heeseung’s shoulder, the world starts to blur around the edges. Darken, as if your eyes are closing of their own volition, against your will. You see him retreat, the terrible ghost of your professor. In the dark, he looks almost forlorn. Regretful. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung whispers. He doesn’t see the way your professor spins on his heel, runs in the opposite direction. His attention is trained fully on the space beneath your jaw. “Fuck.”

“Heeseung?” Your voice sounds strange to your own ears. Distant, muffled as if you’re submerged beneath water. You have so many questions. 

But it’s suddenly so cold. And you’re so tired. Wouldn’t it be nice to just lay down? Rest for a moment? Surely that couldn’t hurt anything. 

Your legs are wobbly beneath you, and you would collapse to the floor in an ungraceful heap if it weren’t for the two hands on your waist, supporting your weight. 

“I’m here,” he tells you. Cold. When did it get so cold? Your eyes try to focus on Heeseung, but your vision is swimming. You wonder if he would be warm. “I’m right here. Just… fuck.”

Gently, he eases you both to the ground. The floor is hard beneath you, but it feels like a reprieve. You’re tired of holding the weight of your body upright. Your blinking is becoming slow, lethargic. Your head is suddenly far too heavy for your neck. 

Slowly, Heeseung removes his hands from your waist, relocates them to either side of your jaw. With the care of someone well versed in patience, he delicately maneuvers your head to the side, exposing the length of your neck. 

Whatever he finds there must be displeasing. You can’t imagine why. You can’t think much of anything. The world has taken on a sort of dreamlike quality in which everything feels loose, fluid and unburdened by the laws of any physics. 

“Fuck,” he whispers for the fourth time. The curse scatters over your cheekbone like a kiss. 

Pulling back slightly, he meets your half-closed eyes. “I’m sorry.” It sounds like a prayer. “This might…” he swallows, something in his resolve wavering. “This might hurt.”

Pain. You can barely conceptualize the sensation. It feels like a distant memory. 

And then he’s tilting your head to the side again. His face draws closer, overcomes the last of your remaining senses, demands the full attention of what’s left of your consciousness. 

You think he might kiss you. Whatever desire remains in you almost wishes he would. 

Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting slightly as your eyelashes fan against the tops of your cheeks. 

But his mouth never finds yours. Instead, you feel the soft caress of his lips against the side of your neck, a fleeting touch against the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. Inhibitions whittled to nothing, you shudder against the sensation, release the airy ghost of a sigh.

He was wrong, you think. With his mouth on your neck, pain is the last thing you feel. 

You feel his lips part against your skin, chasing away some of the cold that has only seeped deeper into bones, into the very essence of your being. 

And then you feel it. Whatever capacity for sensation that remains all focuses on the sudden flash of agony as his teeth pierce the skin of your throat. 

The tiny moan that escapes your lips is pitiful. Your ability to think, to rationalize, feels like something that’s dangling in front of you, just out of reach. Your body is too heavy, too weak to respond to the flash of searing pain as your skin is pierced deeper. 

He can’t speak, but you feel the shallow vibration of a hum against your neck. Soothing, calming. His hand that doesn’t bear the weight of your head moves to push a stray strand of hair from your forehead. It’s gentle, reverent. In complete opposition to the war he wages against your neck. 

Mouth still full of you, a groan escapes him. It’s heady, throaty, and you feel it travel the length of your spine, settle in the pit of your stomach. Sensation is the only thing tethering you to this world, and you can’t quite tell if this is pleasure or pain. 

He pulls back, the absence of his steady heat leaving your jaw vulnerable to the chill in the air. 

“Hold on,” you hear. You can’t pinpoint where the noise comes from. Sound surrounds you, washes over you in a strange uniformity. You feel the ground fall away, something warm and solid behind your shoulders and under your knees.“We’ll be there soon.”

Floating, you think. You must be floating. It’s hard to tell. Moments are bleeding into one another too quickly for you to keep up. 

Eyes closed, body molten, you relax into the steady grip that carries you. 

And the last thing you hear before reality loses its hold is the fervent, whispered sound of your name. 

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

CONTINUED IN PART 2 (which can be found on my masterlist!)

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: THANK YOUUUUU for reading!!! this is pretty different from what I usually write plot wise, so I hope it made for a good read. vampire heeseung and this oc are near and dear to me, and I'm excited to continue their story. the rest of this fic is fully plotted and partially written. I'm actively continuing to work on it, and hearing your thoughts/theories/screaming/feedback/etc. is great motivation! as always, I love know what you're thinking. ♡

[earthchica]

Funny How Time Flies

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you are a shy, introverted person who wants to break out of your shell and experience fun at least once in your life. During a mutual friend's group trip, you meet Terry and have the best sex with him. Once the fun is over, will you and Terry stay in touch?

warnings: explicit smut (18+), light use of daddy, foul language, dirty talking, dom/sub, oral (f), pussy slaps, fingering, unprotected sex, nicknames (beautiful, baby, baby girl), words: (3k)

note: hey, I'm working on another mini-series, but this one is sweet, wholesome, and freaky! let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts. please enjoy!

series masterlist

You’ve been shy and introverted your entire life, often feeling tired of this loneliness. Your daily routine typically consists of working, exercising, and returning home, which leaves little opportunity for social interaction or adventure.

While you go out when you want to, most of your time is spent at home with your loving dog. Despite that, you know something is missing—particularly, a boyfriend and a more vibrant social life.

The anxiety stemming from your shyness made it difficult for you to step outside your comfort zone. You want to seek more experiences beyond the walls of your home and be more outgoing.

When your friends Sasha and Maya invited you on a group trip, you accepted. They were surprised but happy and reassured you that you wouldn’t feel left out or awkward during the trip.

Sasha, in particular, couldn’t contain her excitement, as explained by her boyfriend, Bryce. He was bringing his old marine friend, Terry Richmond.

You met the girls at the airport and greeted them with hugs. Sasha explained that Bryce and Cameron needed to find Terry, which made you feel nervous. She told you a little about him, but ultimately, you would have to form your own opinion about him.

"Oh, here they come! Finally,” Sasha replied, gesturing towards three tall, fit men in the distance.

Bryce was a tall, dark-skinned man, while Cam was kind of brown-skinned since he was lighter than Bryce. Then your eyes led to him. Who must be Terry?

At that moment, you felt an undeniable spark of love at first sight. Terry was slightly taller than Bryce and Cam and had a lighter skin tone.

He was so handsome, with good hands, good lips, and, good god, a nice body!!! He was fine, and you wanna intertwine him.

"Good, made it back on time and found big dawg," Bryce nudged Terry on the arm, laughed, and then moved over to Sasha.

"Yeah, bro was at the wrong damn gate/terminal," Cam said, walking over to Maya and greeted her with a kiss on the forehead.

"My fault; it's been a minute since I've been at the damn airport; y'all know I don't travel a lot," Terry chuckled lightly as he caught you staring, prompting you to look away.

"Well, we're glad you found him. Now...um, Terry, I want you to meet someone," Maya said with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows curiously and she motioned towards you and introduced you to Terry by using your name.

“Hey, there!” He said, giving a polite wave, and you just stared at him. Everyone looked at you, awaiting your response, but nothing came out until Sasha nudged you.

“Hi,” you said, waving back with a small mile. You held his gaze for a moment, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach, before shyly turning your eyes away.

The flight to Cancun, Mexico, is currently boarding for its scheduled departure at 1 PM. Passengers are advised to have their boarding passes and identification ready and to proceed to the gate promptly.

"Okay, that's us. Who's ready to get Lit?" Maya clapped her hands, easing the awkwardness and creating a more hype vibe.

Sasha wrapped her arm around your shoulders playfully, giving you a knowing look through her sunglasses.

"Look at you, drooling all over Terry already; I told you he would be your type," She teased, and you playfully hit her arm.

Soon enough, you were all on the plane, and of course, you were sitting next to Terry. He was talking to you, but you felt so nervous that your responses were short.

You both had a lot in common: you were single, didn’t get out much, and were on this trip to have fun. You couldn’t believe that a handsome man like Terry wanted to talk to you despite your shyness.

Terry was eager to talk to you from the moment he first saw you. He felt a strong connection and wanted to get to know you better. He was really glad he decided to go on this trip because your sweet and shy nature made him want to break you out of your shell.

“You're kind of the shy and quiet type, huh?! I like that; some people say I'm reserved, so I guess I can relate,"

"You don't seem like it; you seem like an outgoing person." You look at him for a second. His captivating hazel-green eyes burn into yours, causing a flutter in your chest.

"Well, I sometimes can be both; I'm a little reserved when I don't know the person, but if I know you, I'm more open, I guess," Terry explained, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"What makes me so different?" You asked in a playful tone, building some confidence.

Terry laughs and smirks, "I guess you're that special!"

You felt like your heart exploded the way he looked at you, obviously attracted to you. You just nodded, looking away, trying to hide your smile.

“Hey....come on, I was just getting used to hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Terry said, leaning in, and your breath hitched.

You and Terry chatted throughout the entire plane ride. Although you were still a bit shy, you found yourself being more talkative than before, which felt positive.

Perhaps Terry was just what you needed for this trip. Once your group arrived at the stunning villa, you marveled at its beautiful interior.

“Alright,” Maya announced, her enthusiasm infectious as she gathered everyone to discuss the week's activities. She carefully ensured everyone felt included and excited about them.

Maya suggested you all chill and settle into our bedrooms for the afternoon. You began rolling your heavy suitcase down the hall, its wheels clicking softly against the floor.

“Do you need a hand?” Terry asked, approaching with a friendly smile and ready to help you with your suitcase.

"Yeah, thanks." You said with a small smile, walking to your bedroom door and walking in.

"You can put it right there, " You said, pointing at the chair before you and indicating that he should place it there. Terry glanced at you curiously as if he were too nervous to ask a question.

A moment of silent communication passes between you. Terry stepped forward, closing the distance, and you felt your heart race.

You instinctively wanted to shy away, but you fought against the urge, reminding yourself to be brave.

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but I would love to take you on a date tonight. I am drawn to you and want to crack your shy shell and see what’s inside. Of course, only if you want me to," He expressed with a hopeful smile.

“I would love that, Terry,” You said with a smile. Terry smiled back, gave you his number, and set the date plans.

He walked out, winking at you as he left the bedroom. You bit your lip and excitedly squealed, jumping dramatically onto the comfortable bed.

-

You told the girls about the date, and they were so excited that they went upstairs to your bedroom to help you out.

“I don’t think I can do this; it's been so long since i've been on a date, and all together, I'm shy as fuck” You said, getting your nerves up.

“Babe, it’s fine. You need this, and Terry is an amazing guy. We wouldn't have brought him on this trip if we didn't know he would be perfect for you.” Sasha says, ease your anxiety a lot more.

“Sasha is right; just have fun and let go, but not too much; you might get dicknotized,” Maya smiles playfully as she hands you a sexy yellow dress that catches the light beautifully.

"This will look amazing on you," She added, her eyes sparkling excitedly. As you slipped into the dress, your nerves faded, replaced by a sense of pride.

Maya's perfume filled the room as she sprayed on you; it had a familiar and comforting aroma.

Sasha, the fashionista, was styling your box braids and applying your makeup while you looked in the mirror.

"Remember," She said, glancing over her shoulder, "confidence is key. Just be yourself."

After saying bye to Sasha and Maya, you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. You were walking downstairs and Terry stood there at the bottom, clearly waiting for you.

His eyes widened, taking in every detail. You couldn't help but giggle at his look of awe. He seemed captivated by your radiant beauty, his gaze lingering on your elegant curves.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Terry said. You smiled and looked him over, noticing he was wearing a black button-up shirt and shorts.

"Thank you. Um..you look beautif-I mean handsome!" You cursed at yourself in your mind, feeling totally embarrassed, and Terry found it cute.

"Thanks! Are you ready?" Terry asked, holding his arm out with a smile and you happily accepted.

Both of you walk leisurely down the path, arm in arm while listening to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore accompanies you as you make your way to the charming ocean-view restaurant that overlooks the sparkling waters.

You and Terry walk inside, and the warm glow of the intimate setting welcomes you. You find a cozy table for two awaiting your arrival. Moments later, a friendly waiter approaches, ready to take your drink orders.

While waiting, Terry struck up a conversation that flowed effortlessly. His warm smile and engaging demeanor made it easy to share about yourself. With every exchanged joke and smile, you found yourself becoming more comfortable, as if he had a talent for bringing out the best in people.

His smooth charm was evident; he made you feel special and understood, gently encouraging you to step out of your shy little shell and embrace the moment because the air between you crackled with sexual tension, growing palpable by the minute.

The waiter approached your table, balancing a tray of drinks that shimmered in the dim light. He set them down before you with a polite smile. After taking your food orders, he left you both.

Terry, his eyes sparkling, leaned in closer, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“While we wait, how about we play a game of ‘Would you rather?’” Terry proposed, the excitement in his voice making the suggestion feel inviting.

"Okay," You replied, intrigued and ready to dive into the game.

“Okay, would you rather…” Terry started, propping his chin on his hand as he contemplated the question.

“Would you rather live deep in the ocean or explore the vastness of space?”

You paused for a moment, considering the options carefully. “Hmm, that’s a tough choice. But I think I would choose space,” You finally replied.

“Mmm, interesting! What makes you lean toward space?” Terry inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I have always been interested in space and astronomy. If I could, I would be an astronaut, and the experience would be exciting,” You said, taking a sip of your wine.

"Wow, I would love to learn more about that, but it's your turn," Terry said, his eyes lighting up with curiosity and a warm smile spreading across his face. The "Would You Rather" game had been going for a while and had taken a slightly naughty turn.

Before long, the waiter arrives with both of your meals, setting them down on the table with a flourish. As the delightful aromas fill the air, you take a moment to appreciate the dishes before returning to Terry.

Intrigued by the connection you two are building, you changed the subject wanting to know about Terry's interests and experiences, eager to learn more about his passions.

Terry paused mid-sentence, his gaze falling on your necklace, which had come unhooked. With a gentle smile, he leaned in close and secured the clasp.

You found yourself momentarily lost in the warmth of his touch, savoring the soft caress against your dark brown skin, a delightful contrast that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

Terry pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips, and effortlessly transitioned back into talking as if nothing had happened. You couldn't help but notice his subtle game; it was working on you like a charm.

Your desire was intense, and your craving seemed to deepen with every word he spoke. You were utterly captivated, wanting him more than ever before.

After dinner, you both walk silently side by side on the beach. Your hands nearly touch until Terry grabs yours and holds it, making you smile.

You slowly look up at him, and you find that his eyes are already fixed on you.

"What?" You asked.

"Just admiring how gorgeous you are," Terry stopped you from walking by wrapping his arms around your plump waist.

You touched his chest, thinking you both would finally kiss. But Terry was teasing you again. He lifted you slightly, catching you off guard and causing you to drop your purse and heels.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing, Terry?” You gasped, struggling to escape his firm hold on you.

“Let’s get in the water; I bet it’s cold,” He said, trying to pull you closer.

“No, Terry!” You squealed, quickly breaking free from his grasp and running away from him with your tongue sticking out.

“Hey!” he yelled, chasing after you. When he finally caught you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and started tickling you.

You bounced up and down with laughter, trying to escape his grip. Just as Terry was about to say something, he accidentally tripped over something in the sand. Both of you fell together. You looked at him, and he looked at you.

You both laughed as Terry rolled off of you, pulling you onto his chest and kissing the top of your head, making your heart flutter. He eventually helped you out of the sand and retrieved your purse and heels.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, surprising him with the suddenness of your action. As you pulled back, a shy smile crept onto your face, and you turned your gaze to the side, feeling excitement and nervousness.

In an instant, Terry reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes searched yours, a blend of sweetness and warmth reflected in them.

Then, without breaking his gaze, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he kissed you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You let out a muffled moan, feeling his hands gliding over your ass with a gentle yet teasing touch. Your breath caught in your throat, pulling away while feeling him firmly grasping it.

"Do you wanna continue this back at the villa?" Terry asked, his eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you.

"Yes," you said, nodding firmly as you still held the gaze. Your voice remained steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you—excitement, desire, and a hint of nervousness mingled together.

-

Once stepped into the bedroom, Terry pressed you against the solid door. His lips met yours in a passionate, rough kiss, feeling an electric spark hit and made your heart race.

"I've been waiting to take this dress off you since I saw you in it," He murmured in your ear, running his hands down the bodice of your yellow dress.

"And it's just driving me wild," He whispered, which made you shiver.

"Well, take it off if you're brave enough," You spoke boldly, which made him smirk.

You gasped as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed. You still couldn't get over the fact that he was so strong to pick you up, which was a turn-on for you.

He picked you down as both of you stood at the edge of the bed; he was kissing your neck, and his lips peppered on your dark-brown skin, pausing here and there to suck on the sensitive flesh.

His hand reached behind your back to find the zipper of your dress, pushing it down to your feet. You step out of it, and his hands touch your exposed breasts.

As you stood there, a wave of insecurity washed over you, causing you to shy away slightly. Just when you thought about retreating and hiding yourself, Terry stopped you. His gaze was steady and inviting, searching your eyes.

"You're beautiful, baby. Don't hide from me!" He whispers genuinely, making you feel warm inside. You kiss him as his hands grip your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, pulling away and popping his black button-up shirt open. You admired his abs and slid your fingers down his chest.

Terry shivered slightly at your touch; you had the same effect on him as he had on you. Both of you practically ripped each other's clothes. You gently laid yourself down as Terry hovered above you.

You pulled him down for another kiss as he cupped your right breast in his hand while his lips moved away from yours. His tongue dragged across the dark area of your areola.

"Such nice big tits, so good to suck," Terry growls and grabs both of your breasts with his hand, squeezing and sucking them, causing you to whimper.

"How does that feel, baby?" He asked, pulling away from sucking your nipples as his right hand traveled down to your wet folds, and circled them.

A loud moan escaped your lips, felt him push two fingers inside of you, prompting you to cover your mouth to avoid being heard by the others.

"Nah, baby girl, none of that. You have no idea how desperate I want to hear you moan for me. If you don’t let yourself make any sounds, I’ll have to find a way to draw them out."

"Yes-yes....ohhhh....It-it feels good....ahh......so good," You moaned, feeling him moved below and rested between your plump legs, glancing up at you. He spread them wide, getting a good look at your pussy.

"Mmmm, a pretty girl with a pretty pussy" He said before placing his hands on your legs and dragging his tongue between your wet folds.

"Yes....fuck....ahh fuck" You moaned, arching your back and grabbing your breasts as he repeated the action with more pressure, his tongue sliding against your bundle of nerves.

"Mmm, tastes so damn good, girl" His hands were holding your wide hips as he continued to suck and lick you dry, drawing desperate soft moans from your mouth. 

Terry buried deeper between your plump legs, which was driving you crazy. The pleasure you were feeling going through your body was so overwhelming.

"Ahh fuck, Terry fucking eat this pussy, mutherfucka" You moaned, and your fingers gently caressed his head, relishing the closeness of him.

Terry chuckles. "Mmm, there you go, keep talking nasty to me, baby. I see I'm bringing the best out of you, the freak in you," He said before resuming devouring your pussy.

Another loud moan escaped your lips as the pleasure built within you, clenching around his fingers while you felt yourself getting close.

"Are you gonna cum, beautiful?" He asked, moving up to look into your eyes and began to finger fuck you fast.

"Yes, Terry, oh shit.....fuck-fuck don't stop fuck." You cried, suddenly cumming hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

"Yeah, that's it, baby girl. Fucking cum for Daddy," Terry said, still fingering you and then smacking your pussy as wet gushing came out of you, causing you to cry.

"Shit, look at that, baby. And I did all that with my tongue and fingers; I can't wait to see how your pussy takes my dick" He said with a chuckle, licking his fingers, and you watched him coming down from your intense high.

You kissed him, slightly tasting yourself as he cupped your breast in his hand while your hand slid down his chest to his throbbing dick; you got a good look at it and gasped at it.

"Like what you see?" Terry whispered in your ear.

"Yes, it's so big," You moaned, moving your hand up and down his length as you kissed him again but deeply. A very deep moan came from his mouth when you got a little faster.

"Fuck, girl, I need you…" Terry said with a slight moan, which made you smile. He moved on top of you and slowly entered your folds, causing you to go bananas.

You were loving the fullness of his thickness inside of you as he began thrusting, drawing soft moans from you. Terry asked, looking down at you to see if it was good, but you nodded.

"Come on, baby. Don't get shy on me again; tell me how it feels?" He asked, his hands on your waist sliding down to grasp your wide hips, pulling you closer so he could bury himself deeper.

"Yes, Terry fuck me, fuck it feels good!" You moaned, wrapping your plump legs around his waist tighter, allowing a new, delicious angle that you both liked.

Your moans became louder and more frequent as his thrusts came faster but still as gently and passionately as ever.

"That's it, girl....let everyone know i'm fucking this pussy good, You like it, you like how I am fucking you" Terry moaned while his rhythm never stopped looking down at you with so much desire and lust;

"Oh yes, Daddy fuck me, it feels so good," You cried, looking up at him as he lifted your legs to his shoulders and pounding into you faster and harder but much more profound.

"Take that fucking dick like a good girl;" Terry growled, tightening his grip on your legs.

"....fuck are you about to cum, baby?" Terry moaned, feeling the warmth of your walls, clenched around him.

"Oh....yes, fuckfuckfuck..I'm-I'm cumming-" You moaned, digging your nails deep into his arms and scratching down.

"Fucking let it go, baby."

"AHHH!!" You screamed, coming hard again and Terry wasn't too far behind, cursing, pulling out; your legs immediately fell to his waist as his hot cum spurted all over your belly, making you slightly giggle.

"Shit," Terry cursed, lowered himself, and propped up on his left arm as his head buried in your neck.

He entirely collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. You slid your hand up and down his sweaty back while he gave you small, lazy kisses on your face and neck.

Terry rolls off you, and both of you calm down from your high. You bite your lip and turn to prop yourself up to look at him.

"That was—" You couldn't decide what word to use. It was beyond amazing, it was...

"Mind-blowing, yeah," He agreed, looking at you and lifting himself up to kiss you.

"Up for another round in the shower?"He asked, pulling away and caressing your hip.

"Yes!" Both of you smirked at each other and got out of bed to walk to the bathroom; Terry made you cum two more times that night.

[caramelcal]

Hi, I love your story!! I wanted to know if you can do a when theo is jealous and leave hickey to fem reader. If your not comfortable that’s fine thank you 🤭.

LOVEBITES AND POTIONS

word count: 1.4k

a/n: hiya lovely! thank you for sending a request<3

warnings: fem!reader, no house specified. jealous!theo. boyfriend!theo, playful allegations of cheating/going on dates with others. hickeys.

"Hey, y/n!" A voice called out from behind you, halting you in your movements.

It was a Friday, and you had just left your last class of the day, ready to relax over the weekend with your boyfriend, Theo. That's where you were heading right now; to his dorm.

Well, until someone called out from you.

"I'm glad I caught up with you," The voice said as you turned around, eyes catching onto Zacharias, a Hufflepuff boy in your year, and your potions partner.

"Hi, Zacharias," You gave the boy a pleasant smile, trying to be as nice as possible. You held your books in your hands in front of your chest, looking at the boy who seemed a little out of breath.

"Hi, um-" He started, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes cast away from you for a second, "I wanted to talk to you about our potions project."

You looked at him with a small smile, urging him to go on as he took a deep breath. Tons of students bustled around the two of you, loud, excited to get off to their dorms or hang out with their friends, and although you wanted nothing more than to run to Theo's dorm, you were patient with the boy in front of you.

He seemed nervous.

"Well, I was thinking we could get a headstart on our project, maybe tomorrow in the library?" He proposed, his eyes looking pretty much everywhere but your face, "I mean, I really need a good grade on this project, and I know that you like to..."

Zacharias continued, but you zoned out a little as your eyes caught on to a particular group of Slytherin boys. They all joked about, pushing each other, and just acting generally boisterous. Not a single one of them wore their robes, all claiming to be far too cool for them, their ties loosened and white sleeves rolled up.

Your eyes caught onto the familiar tall figure of your boyfriend as he laughed, his blue eyes catching onto yours as you smiled, getting a smile in return. His friends all started to notice you too, riling Theodore up as boys do when they saw the look in his eyes.

"Y/n?" A hand gently brushed against your shoulder, drawing your attention back towards Zacharias, his eyebrows slightly drawn, and a slight redness in his cheeks.

"That sounds like a good idea, Zacharias," His face brightened a little, "but I can't do tomorrow, I have plans with my boyfriend, sorry."

"Oh."

"We can start on Sunday though? How does that sound?"

A small smile makes its way back onto Zacharias' lips as he nods, "Yeah, that sounds good."

Before you can respond, however, to work out times or anything, you hear a call from behind you, "Y/n! C'mon! We don't have all day!"

Your head whips around, hearing Draco shout after you to get you to hurry up, only to realise all of the Slytherin boys are staring at you, waiting for you to come with them. With a smile, you turn back around and say your goodbyes to Zacharias, before practically skipping over to the boys.

Your eyes don't move from the tall blue-eyed boy, your arms thrown over his shoulders as you reach up and peck him on the cheek. His eyes don't quite meet yours, focusing on something behind you as his hands snake possessively around your waist, a kiss being placed on your forehead.

Then, you're whisked away to the Slytherin common room, and soon enough, Theodore's dorm. The door shuts behind your boyfriend as you place your books down on his bedside table, and he wastes little time pulling your robe away from your neck and down your shoulders, slipping it off your body.

"I missed you," You spoke quietly as you turned around in your boyfriend's hold, your hands going over his shoulders and curling into the hair on the nape of his neck.

Your head is on his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne and cigarettes, eyes closing at the comfort it brings you.

Theo hummed in response, pulling back a little as he picked you up with ease, placing you down on his bed as he sat beside you, facing you.

His lips soon find yours, his hand sitting around the back of your neck, keeping your lips firmly on his as his thumb caresses your hair away from the side of your neck. His free hand pulls at your tie, then unbuttons the top two buttons of your shirt, moving the fabric to free the side of your neck.

Then, his lips latch onto your neck, near your jaw, and the second you feel him suck and his teeth lightly graze over the skin, you know exactly what he's trying to do.

"Theo, lower. Those marks are going to be visible above my uniform."

Yet, he doesn't stop. In fact, he seems even more eager to mark up the side of your neck when he hears those words tumble from your lips.

"Theo."

He pulled away a little, but you could still feel his soft breaths against the bare skin of your neck. You looked down at him with a quizzical look.

"Why are you doing it so high?"

He avoided the question, his hands pushing your hair back once more as his eyes cast back down to the skin of your neck, "You excited about your date with your little boyfriend?"

"I didn't realise we'd planned a date this weekend."

"I'm talking about your other boyfriend," He quipped back sarcastically, before his lips made contact with another spot on your neck, littering what you can guarantee are going to be countless dark bruises along your neck.

Your eyebrows furrow at this remark as you try to piece together what Theodore could possibly be talking about. What other plans did you even have?

"Are you talking about Zacharias? He's just helping me with our potions project," You informed your boyfriend, your hand coming up to grab at the strands of his soft hair once more.

"Tell him to leave it, I'm better at potions anyway. I'll help you," Theodore bargained, without his mouth moving away from your neck.

He wasn't wrong. Theodore was brilliant at potions, but regardless of that, it was your and Zacharias' project, not you and Theodore's.

"Wait," A subtle smirk came to your lips as you began to piece together what was happening, your hand pushing Theo away from your neck, "Are you jealous, Theo?"

You held him in such a way that he was unable to attach his lips to your neck to continue his attack, your head tilting a little as you waited for a response.

Theodore rolled his eyes in response, mumbling, "No."

"Are you sure?" You pouted a little, raising an eyebrow at the way his eyes were cast to the side, not looking you in the eyes. His hair was a little messed up, and a small pout had made its way to his lips, too. He crossed his arms over his chest, almost comically, as if he was a child in a huff.

"That puff has nothing on me," He mumbled cockily, making you laugh softly as you moved your hands from holding him back. Not skipping a beat, Theo latched his lips back onto your skin, on the opposite side now.

"Stop," You laughed a little, "Snape's going to have a heart attack if he sees these."

You had absolutely no doubt that these were going to be a pain in the ass to hide. Even with your hair down, it was going to be a real struggle. With how many Theodore had left too, you knew the chances of you being able to cover them with makeup was going to be difficult, too.

"Hope the puff does, too," Theodore mumbled almost childishly.

"Don't be jealous, Theo," You spoke softly, your hand coming up to play with his hair once more, your other hand rubbing his back, "You know I'm yours."

"You're right," Theodore responded, pulling away from the last hickey he made, then pressing a soft kiss against your neck, now littered with marks, then your jaw, then your lips. Finally pulling back, his blue eyes meet yours, a smile coming to his face as he surveys his work, then your face, "All mine."

[ddejavvu]

Tyler Owens x Shy!Reader giving each other a good luck kiss before a tornado chase🩵🌪️

Spotlight - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You're relieved that Tyler won't be gone for days, crossing state lines to chase this twister, but that comes with a downside: it's local. That means that, though the tornado's path isn't projected near your home, you're still on high-alert as anxiety convinces you that something will change and your house will be torn down plank by plank and blown away into oblivion.

"I'll be back for dinner," Tyler vows, grinning at you with the thrill of the chase already gleaming in his eyes and smile, "You just sit pretty 'til I'm back, darlin', and we can go out tonight. Get somethin' real nice, then we can go dancin' afterwards. In our own little corner, I promise." He tugs you close, miming how things will go only hours from now, knowing your tendency to be shy in large crowds.

The roaring of tires on gravel lets you know that Tyler's crew has arrived, and you've mostly conquered your nerves surrounding them. They're lovely people, if only a little intense, but you still feel sometimes like a complete outsider. Still, you wave sweetly to them, and a chorus of greetings floats your way over the open Arkansas air.

"Alright," Tyler pats once, twice against your hip, "That's my cue. If I don't get goin' soon, Boone's gonna start throwing shit at me."

"I'll protect you," You shrug, drinking in the last of his embrace- logically, the last of it for only a few hours. Irrationally- the last of it you might ever get. You shake away a shuddery feeling in your chest as Tyler laughs at your joke, squeezing you tighter around the waist.

"That's right, you're my little protector, aren't you? 'Gonna get those big ol' muscles out and show 'em all who's boss?"

Flexing your biceps does absolutely nothing to show them off like it does when Tyler does it, and you can feel the fondness in his ear-to-ear grin.

"Alright, darlin'." He lets go of your waist and suddenly the handprints on your sides are cold, terribly so, as a mild wind blows through your front yard, "Stay safe in here, m'kay? The storm's projected to go east but you know the drill; keep weather alerts on and hole up in the cellar if anything changes. Love you," He squeezes your hand in lieu of a kiss, something you're decidedly uncomfortable with in public, but when he turns to walk away, you act on impulse and grab his wrist.

"Ty-" You gasp, almost as shocked at your actions as he is when he turns to raise a questioning brow at you.

"Hm?"

"Uh- I," You stammer, his eyes like spotlights showcasing your awkward stance before you realize that words are failing, and the only thing you can do is kiss him.

You surge forwards, tugging him along to meet you in the middle as you lean up to press your lips to his. He's surprised if the way that his eyes go wide is any indication, and you feel like you're stealing his breath when his chest tightens up. It takes him barely a second to melt into it, but it's a second that feels like an eternity as your brain and heart race in tandem.

There's cheering, whooping, shouting, and a slew of other reactions from his crew that you'll lay awake embarrassed about later tonight, but for now you kiss Tyler Owens like it's the last time you'll see him- because it might be.

The words, 'Good luck,' are whispered softly against his lips when you part from them, and his eyes are hazy before he blinks away the cloudy daze he's trapped in. He stares down at you, equal parts bewildered and head-over-heels, and his grin is less cocky, more sappy now as he watches you.

"That was one hell of a kiss," He remarks, smoothing his tongue between the seam of his lips and catching your chapstick, "I don't even think I wanna go out now. Tornado be damned, the real fun's right here."

"Go," You push against his chest, and your laughter comes easy despite having just stepped so far out of your comfort zone, "Go and be back for dinner and dancing!"

"Yes ma'am!" Tyler calls, walking backwards towards his own truck as his crew splits in half to fill both vehicles equally, "I love you!"

He says it like it's an inside joke, like it's something he's informing you of for the first time instead of something you'd just pressed against his mouth.

You grin back, lazy and sure even amongst the watchful eyes of his crew, "I love you too, Ty."

[court-jobi]

Meal Prep

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's works or the lovely art found here))

Pairing: Bakugo x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 5k

Rating: M | 18+ (begone, minor extras- it's too spicy for you, Kacchan says so)

Warnings: hand-holding sexy times, first time!Bakugou/reader, food and commitment as a love language, FEELINGS, accidental quirk use, pet names, piv smut, established relationship, wrap it up, this is fantasy

Summary:

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together.  And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

A/N: It's spice, yall. Someone needs to rein their quirk in, and I'm not naming names (Katsuki Bakugou)

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

When Bakugou turned to his side -feeling the hand at his lower back- and went to lift you up on the counter for some kisses, something just... came over you. 

Your moves were tame at first- rubbing his chest and shoulders at the moment’s reprieve. Just giving yourself sweetly into it. Now with his hands on you, he got really hard really fast, and made some quip about you getting fresh between shared ravishments of love. 

Sure, you were biting at his lips longer than usual. Sure, you were hanging onto him in a manner far more codependent than you'd ever claim to be. By the look in his eye, he wasn't ever gonna be caught complaining, though. You’ve  been stared at and longed after across any room you're in just as wantonly, and he's the first to second your opinion when it matters. He calls you every night he's away for missions, and stays his need to sleep just to be able talk to you while your time zones are flip-flopped. 

Although, it was rather hungry of you to be so enamored by him today: where even the simplest conversation about the prices of strawberries going up made you fall slack into him. 

He asks what brought this on~ 

"Just love having you here,” you surmised, “I– like not doing these things alone." 

You’d made the economical offer to cook together and split the bills. Since your diets were fairly similar anyway, you might as well buy in bulk. He was in an indulgent headspace tonight, since he’d been laying on the pet names thick all day; this, his rare day off. Yours is tomorrow, but you were fortunate enough to get off at a decent hour to get the grocery shopping done early- with him. 

– only Bakugou enforced a strict habit of insisting on taking care of the receipt at the store, but never letting you settle up your half. The ‘slip of the mind’ he suffered from the first time was no longer an accident, but a routine.

Now, two stacks of four portioned meals each lay side by side prepped in the fridge. Some additional protein packs top your stash to keep on hand between long night drives; small and compact, they help fuel you mid-mission so you don’t have another repeat of a blood sugar drop while enroute with a squad of heavyweight heroes making a cross-city trek. Bakugou preferred to pick out treats as a surprise in those meal kits. Trivial as gift giving goes, but it offers some enrichment to your otherwise predictable menu. You haven’t seen what he’d snuck in the cart underneath that bag of string beans this time, and just saw their packed away presence in the fridge, teasing you.

But back at the sink where he’d begun to wash up, you ignored their mystery. Now, you just wanted to show him how much he was appreciated.

Yes, something switched in your brain: making meals together, sharing cleanup duties, counting these little moments as blessings and feeling like life’s weight wasn't all just on you put you in a mood. You both might not have necessarily gotten too fresh before today, but this wasn’t simply a domestic dance with lust.

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s sharp and fast to stop you from doing something stupid, and was the loudest voice in the room when your top 20 ranking was announced across the agency conference table. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together. 

And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you.

He wanted to show you he loved you; down to the grind of meal prepping on a Sunday night. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

Your adoring man nuzzles and talks to your neck, "Gettin' sappy again, angel."

He is down bad for you: no matter how sassy he makes the observation sound– that scratchy, rumble tone doesn’t help with your dizzying brain at all.

You offer up your neck a little, scratching along the base of his spine for full, soothing effect.

"Whass’wrong with that?" 

Bakugou simply purrs back happily.

"Cuz if you start saying shit like that, I'mma start sayin' shit. Shit I won't be able to stop spewing once I start."

"Maybe I don't want you to stop."

He senses your heart peeking through your words. Your eyes carry the message loud and clear, too, though they’re having a hard time staying open from the headrush. 

Lifting his heavy head, Bakugou studies you thoughtfully, before stepping into this soft side of yours.

"You don't want me to stop." 

Of course you don’t, so you shake your head.

"You want me to stay." 

Through a smile, you give your shy agreement. 

Even more vulnerable, Bakugou’s rare touch of a smile makes its appearance,

"You want me to stay forever? Make sure my lady's fed and happy?”

"Yes," you sink into him, happier than ever. 

"Looks like I'm staying then. Already made you dinner. Whaddya want me to do next?" 

"Hmm– kiss me?" 

Bakugou leans in to grant you your simple wish- but fully laps at your mouth instead. He means to entice, draw things out, make you want him that much more while giving himself nothing but torture at the same time. He’s used to making himself sweat; at least this was the fun simmer that didn’t burn.

The blonde moans low in his chest when you brush his cheek’s scar with your thumb. 

"Whaddya want, pretty girl,” Bakugou scoops you in close, memorizing this hot look of need you’re having right in the middle of chores, “What, y’want me to kiss you forever too?" 

Fixed on his lips -currently teased between his teeth- you give a rare curse that contrasted your sugar sweet demeanor, 

“Hell yes--" 

Kisses smash between you as sloppily as you want while he pulls you off the counter, over to the couch, and plops you on his lap, where you adjust to a squat over him and followed his persistent pull for you to sit. 

Pink lovemarks all over your neck, Bakugou’s rough attentions drive his hands to go just about anywhere he wants in a need-driven frenzy. Whether to warm you up or keep himself from perspiring too much? Who's to say.

Suddenly as he growled out his pleasure at your hips fitting up upon his lap, Bakugou fisted your  shirt in each palm– he tugs you deliciously tight as you kiss the daylights out of him.

Through his satisfied chuckles, he thought all was good until he started feeling some pops muffling in his hands. 

Bakugou knows what's coming– it's the speed of this onset that freaks him out-

His senses shout at him lightning quick, so it's a miracle that Bakugou immediately threw his hands out, shooting off hot sparks with palms out towards the coffee table- spooking you into a yelp. 

The panic settled just as soon as it came– you stared at each other after the round of pops stopped. 

Somehow, you were never afraid he’d ever sweat to the point of harming you, so you rolled with it as if he didn’t just almost blow you to bits. Must just be excited. 

Cheeky, you  thumbed to your bedroom before mimicking a Dynamight-style ‘stressball’ in your palm.

"Need your gloves?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, "Fuck.... Fine."

As if a little coverage on his hands was going to be the end of the world. 

"I could make a condom joke instead, so be grateful!~" 

A pruned hand smacked your thigh in protest. “Har. Har.”

As you dismounted him (since you knew he was just gonna be pouty and sulk until he could touch you again), you pulled him up by his neckline so that he followed hungrily behind you and didn't cause a stink over it. In your room, you dug in his designated helmet for his gloves, which he roughly handled and donned while you rounded his strong set of shoulders and kissed him through it across the bits of skin you could reach.

"Can't believe I gotta put these fuckin’- things on- every time I get hot and fuckin' bothered-” 

"We'll figure that out, honey. Hey,” you pull him up to your sightline, “You still got me?”

Gloved but no less handsome as ever, Bakugou looks far too dazed to try his hand at driving your bike. Better he crash here, with you. He grabs you close; his answer.

“-- then there’s no complaints here. It’ll work; for now."

He moans kind of high and happy into your kisses on his mouth again. The sound ripples in you, coaxing more love out from your needy fingers and gentle kneading and soft layers that he’s mad he couldn't reciprocate anymore. He voiced this displeasure when he tugged up on your thighs and tipped you onto the bed. Setting a knee between your thighs and capturing a hand in his to pin you, Bakugou firmed up his brows, 

"Well, maybe I wanna feel you BACK, huh?"

"I get that, Katsu-honey~ we'll-- work on it. Learning curve." 

One thing the Hero World would be fast to assume about Katsuki Bakugou is that he'd take whatever he wanted from someone making eyes at him; that he'd be dominant and mean and addictive and that one might regret pushing his buttons in the bedroom, because it would be far too much. ‘Better not test him, he’d be too rough.’ But you hardly think this way, as you have him here:

Here, you look up to him, lovesick and shy, pulling him down because he feels too far away. And tempered as he is when he's in deep, Bakugou reads you and quickly responds in kind. He does kneel over and meets your lips, but freezes like steel as he tries to figure out how to be close but not crush you, despite your yanking for it.

"Katsuki~~"

"I'm not dropping ninety-five kilos a’ dead weight on you, dummy,” he chortled, “Not gonna happen."

"But I want you~~"

"Oh, you want me, huh? Needy girl..." Pets caressing down your cheek, you cup your Katsuki’s arm instead as it trails gingerly down the neck, stopping at your collar, until you force it down its path more towards your chest, and lower. 

His touch carries very little pressure. Rather, you see him just watching his own movements in a haze- "Pretty, pretty girl."

A thought crosses your mind and you feel confident; if you voice it, he’ll answer you honestly. 

"Have you never dated anyone before, ‘Dynamight’?"

Without an immediate defense, you're happy to see he’s still letting you guide his hand to slide under your shirt collar and sift along your bra line. 

Unphased, he answers a gentle -but surprising- ‘no’.

"No high school crushes?" you press, flattered.

"Tch, I went to UA. When would I have had time for that?" Bakugou slides your strap and shirt more to the side as he explores, then kisses the shoulder.

Breathy, you challenge after your happy hums. “Kirishima did..."

He only gave a bemused scoff.

“And look where that got him. Is he anywhere close to being #1?" asks the #5 ranked Pro Hero.

"No,"

Bakugou’s gloved palms have successfully reached your breasts, pulling the rest up and off with confidence now, eyeing over your skin deliciously. 

"Guess who is?"

"Y-you~"

"Damn right." Bakugou licks and teases around the space your nipple would lie under the cup, "And y’know how I did it?"

Sights locked onto him, pulling other side down to sift your underclothes up to his gloved hand's touch.

"I'm a fast learner. That's how you get to be the best. Learn fast, do it right. Gets you results at the top of the board. I'm damn good at learning something I want; 'specially when that something's you."

You can’t keep quiet now. Not at this, your forever favorite Pro Hero undressing you with eyes and hands, 

"Ugh God..."

His hands pawed at every bit of you.

"Name's Katsuki, Angel Eyes. But I'll answer to that if you want~"

Your sexy laugh turned to a moan as he sucked hard at your neck to please you, then worked on getting himself fully topless to match. Once laid back with a delightful little jiggle of everything wonderful, Bakugo's sight lay fixed on you, hands running everywhere he could reach now. 

For once, he looked a little scattered, unsure what to do next besides pet you and breathe.

You teased a leg up his, and tried prying his hard shell open again, "There's no wrong way to play, y'know~"

"Heh?"

"You look like you're working-" you rubbed your own tits, a handful each, "-trying to figure out your next move. But really, there's no bad option. It's just me."

Understanding, he nodded, but still looked conflicted.

"And I don't bite, promise~" you tried for levity, finally making him chuckle a little and bring life to his smirk.

"Y'might as well, looking at me like that."

"What, this?" you kneaded and pushed your tits together.

"Fuck, me..."

"S'what I'm saying."

Then in a sweet move, Bakugou pulls you up to cradle you by your jawline and kisses you lovingly, then holds your foreheads in place while he takes a couple practiced inhales. 

Beneath you, you see how excited he is, but also how tense his core has become. It ever so barely trembles.

A muted string of a confession leaves him, 

"I talk big shit... but... never done this part." –this part being sex, you now gather- "Sue me if I'm tryna do right by you. I- feels like my heart's literally goin’ a mile a minute here, what the hell..."

"Mine too~" you run a soothing drag of your nails up his arms before smoothing up and over to his waist, "You are doing right by me, though~ just go with what feels right. I just want you, Kats."

"Yeah?"

"I want you,” you assure him with charged-up love and desire for him, “-so bad."

That was seemingly all he needed to clear his head because he fell right down to you, crawling beside you and scooping you up into his arms where he could trail his hand all up the expanse of your back. Somewhere in there, he slipped off your pants and took the chance to feel all up and down your legs with greedy chuckles.

He'd moan what a gorgeous sight and gentle thing you were, his mouth leaving no limb untouched or unpraised. He's also high on the attention you gave him right back, especially when you tipped him onto his back and kissed along the lines of his chest. Bruises and dips mark up his otherwise perfect skin, but you're pleased to have your Katsuki enjoying this if his sighs are any indication of his arousal. 

Bakugou quirks a brow as he settles back, preparing for you to mount and have your way with him. Consent is king and he doesn't wanna force you to be in a position you don't want.

“Y’want me here?” he asks with hands supporting your waist. “Show me how it's done?”

The sight below you has you ready to pass out on the spot. He’s handsome and horny and all yours.

"Ready when you are~" 

The line between Dynamight and the man behind the title is blurred as he settles into a cocky smirk. He's proud and never one to shy away from attention- not even this, so it seems. 

Bakugou chips his chin up at you with his full support. 

"Atta girl~" 

You whimper when you grind on top of him at first: not simply at how hot the first pass is for you after so long, but how wrecked Bakugou looks as he exhales with force. It's an effort to will himself still, and you love the look of it on him. 

Pride surges in you as you sway yourself over him, checking him over and making sure he's comfortable. 

“You got me?”

His sights open again, to you in all your glory. Any edge he carries in his waking hours is gone as he's let comfort and ease take the wheel over his nervous system. 

Bakugou is pretty damn adorable this way, but you'd only ever say so when he's fully confident- not out on a limb trying something this new with you for the first time. Here, you'd build up his confidence and see how he rises to the challenge. But you’ll go slow, above all else.

Fingers find renewed life as he squeezes you,

“I got you,” he says in wonder, getting there, “I gotcha." 

But right before you lifted up to let him shove his waistline down, he stopped you from sitting with a hard hand at your tummy. In a quick switch, he's cursing nervously about needing to wrap it up. 

Before he could toss you off, you brought his face back to you with a tender hand, keeping him from getting up altogether and bolting for his bag slung somewhere in the kitchen. 

"I'm covered on that front, hon,” you stifle any laughing at his earnest pursuit, “Planned a bit ahead- got in with the nurse a few months back."

Bakugou stills, but then his confusion and concern give way to something deeper. He’s looking at you, awed. 

"You're on it-?"

"Mhm. I'm all set, baby. There's no one else, just– just you. I won't stop ya if you'd feel better with one on, just wanted you to know. " 

Fondness for the hero-turned-friend-turned-lover made you rake your fingers through that mess of blond hair you daydream of petting and bringing out a groan from him all by yourself, 

"However you want me: inside or out~"

Recognition heats him up more, "You sexy, fuckin' girl..."

Catching you back in his arms, Bakugou falls in love all over again. He’s sinking into you sideways, hiking your leg up and over his hip and just holding you close– your man is all in for this the moment he's submerged in you.

"FUUUUUuuuuuck yehehehess…”

You're overwhelmed and giddy and full, and find that it's not just you who's laughing by the time you make eye contact. It's thrilling and perfect that you're here -doing it- and you’re obsessed with how close you two are in this moment that it makes your relief palpable and light-hearted. 

After heated kisses to get him to actually start moving, you're turning every laugh into a love-filled moan: a sound that Bakugo chases with everything in him. 

Eventually the momentum is like a run, fueling him with the more he hears, and is soon tipping you back to settle on top himself-- in charge and letting you take backseat. By how you gawk up at the show of strength, it’s more than alright with you~

"Oh my God, yes sir!!" you squeal seeing him in charge.

"Yeah? Like this, pretty girl?” Bakugou is in his element, despite having just joined the party moments ago, “Y’like your ‘Backpack’ on top, makin sure you don't move a fuckin’ muscle?"

Each huff and moan he makes glues your sights to the spot- head dipping to where you are slamming together, which only makes him ramp it up even more to give you a show.

‘Yeah yeah yeah-- oh FUCK, why haven't I gotten my head out of my ass sooner, you are FUCKING incredible!--’

The sounds Bakugou’s making are passionate and raw, even more so as you're close and you tell him so through near tears. You’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast for you- but then why wouldn't you when the sight of the love of your life is rocking your world off its hinges and sending you into the best headspin?

"Do it baby, do it do it do it~" he growls the freedom deliciously to you– so you will your hand to let go of the comforter and start rubbing your clit wildly to get you over the edge, till you're bucking up and siezing through relieved sobs. 

Bakugou almost damn near chokes on his own shock at the feel, yet only slows a little bit while he holds you down, holds you through it. Once you’re reaching up for his shoulders again -your cue that you're ok and settled - he dives down to your level for some hard kisses as a reward.

Somehow he breaks from the haze of you deliriously giggling for him soon enough, gasping out  desperate lines that nearly made your heart explode– all while going right back to fighting like mad to go over the edge like you did.

“Fuck, I love you.. fuck, I love you, fuck fuck fuck–”

The closer he gets, the hand pinning yours to the bed starts to burn– which takes your attention.

From watching him fuck you to check your joined wrists is more urgent: Bakugou’s forearm is trembling and visibly sweating all down to the cuff absorbing the rest.

Pretty much sobered you right up by the incoming pain, you're surprised, but you fake it in your bliss and rush him along anyway, until he cries out and shudders into your neck as he finishes– kissing it lightly in thanks muttering all sorts of nonsense you couldn't make out once he sinks onto you- spent.

“Fun, right baby?”

Bakugou’s grunting at every little move of his body.

“S’... M’dizzy,” he rasps, “S’it always dizzy?”

Under a spell yourself, unearth some spare sass n’ sweetness from your back pocket, 

“When it's good,” you give your valid opinion, your free hand making your mark along his arm to settle him down, “when they listen to what you need, n’ when they can provide- even before any clothes come off. I find it best that way, that is…”

Bakugou’s head lolls to the side, pressing a kiss to the tender space just in front of your ear.

“That it is…”

Your palm is pulsing. Hot. But still, you let him find rest, wondering more if he was ok since he was never EVER this gushy, but as his release turned into relieved laughs, Bakugou bridged over you to blow your hair back with a playful gust of his lips and gave you some more indulgent kisses. Sweet as ever, you kissed him back and pressed into his thumb working over your still joined hands.

"You like me~" you taunted.

"huh?~~”

"Y’said you loved me..."

Katsuki giggled, "Shuddup, dummy."

This prompted your tug to free your hand again, hissing when he released and revealed your palm: tinged with an onset of a blister, splotchy with heat–

"THE FUCK??!!” Bakugou noticed the damage himself, “DAMMIT, why didn't you SAY I was cooking you alive??" 

At his apology ridden eyes, you didn't want this hiccup to stall the moment you'd just shared. Flexing each of your hands easily, you shook off any look of pain and beamed up at him instead. 

"You weren't! It just got a lil hot~" he looked at your face again, confused as to why you're not upset at his repeat offense, "BBQ, amiright?" 

Your no-longer sweetheart growls down at you, textbook Bakugou BiteTM.  "NOT. funny." 

You laughed at the nature of it all. 

"I'm ok, baby. Whew... Oh my God~"

Your relief is something fuzzy and delighted to you, but knowing how your darling Katsuki gets in his own head about how fiery his quirk can be, you give him a little wink to quell any fears. 

It works, as your assurances always do. He admires your sated bones and lays another sloppy smooch on you. A silent promise; he’ll take a look at your hand in a bit. 

In moving up your body to reach his shirt to wipe himself with, he slipped out, still hot and heavy (given that he came already) and undeniably turned on- even in this state. You cringed at the mess hitting the cooler air. Hearing your complaint, Bakugou pecked your cheek and nuzzled you back adoringly. 

"Love you, angel.”

"I love you too~" your easy reply passes your lips wistfully.

A dry ache in his chest, he made to rise and see about getting you two a little more comfortable, feeling that same wetness too and grumbled about washing his damn hands, but you stopped him with a little whine.

"Stay~~" 

Crimson eyes softening to yours, the boyish charm returns to Bakugou’s otherwise stoic demeanor. It's a sign he’s clearly plagued in an afterglow buzz.

"Cmon, lemme clean us up. I need the fan on." 

Even colder? Darn his body temp. "Nnng.." 

He gets up anyway, but promises his return with a chip to your chin, "I'll stay, gorgeous. Told you so. I'll stay as long as you want tonight." 

When he came back with the wet washcloth, he coaxed you to stand on your own and go take care of yourself, too. The top sheet is changed and re-tucked in before you got back– mismatched from what remained on the bed before, but you didn't really care. 

He’s made himself comfortable in the bed, only slipping on his boxers you can barely catch the edge of from the sheet in his lap. It’s only made you fold all over again- proof that your boyfriend knows where you keep your spare sheets in the first place. 

You slipped on a fresh pair of panties in your pit stop, but went hunting for your loose shirt again, not bothering with anything under. This got Bakugo's attention seems,

"What, you cold?"

"Little bit~"

"M’over here, then," he patted his chest, you joined him, only to have him sneak his arm under your shirt and tease your tits again, "Don't see why you need this shitty thing while I'm around, just gettin' in my way.."

Giggling and sinking into him, you couldn't fault him. He did have to stay gloved for so long earlier. You laid a kiss straight on his cheek while he had his fill of you.

"Happy girl?" he sings down to you.

Happy girl indeed. "Mhm~ Happy Murder God?"

"Heh-yeah,” Bakugou schooled his breaths to sync to you, “I could get used to this."

"We'll figure out the glove thing."

"...M'sorry for almost toasting you.”

“Eh- I can handle a little snap-crackle-pop.”

Bakugou snorts, tapping out the jingle beat for ‘rice crispies’ on your shoulder. All's forgiven on that front. 

“Really shoulda thrown those in the washer," he grimaced above you, looking over at the door where he set them back with his riding gear. 

"We'll get it later," You snuggled down in his arms, happy to take his leftover heat. “Washer’s all yours~”

"Yeah. Yours is better than mine anyway,” Bakugou leans his head fully back onto your propped up pillows. A contented sigh forces the rest of his muscles to lax. “--piece of crap rattles like it's about to blow up. Yer dishwasher’s better too.”

As he chatters away, he played with the ends of your hair absently. 

“I thought you were my dishwasher?”

Bakugou pauses his twirls, “Oi, I never said I was signing up for that! I was bein’ nice.”

“Yes, you were~” you kissed his neck to force his rising growl down. Works every time. You're back to snuggling in his arms with a contented sigh. “I’ll do them next time.”

“If you’re fast enough, slowpoke, then sure.”

You can barely make out your washer thrumming in the next room as well as the even more distant smooth jazz channel streaming from the living room, but remembered your earlier mindset and just hugged him tighter.

This, you'd certainly miss when he went home tonight. Feeling this close, this warm together, having shared something really special and intimate that you couldn't take back for the life of you. It might make things even worse when it comes to your attachment to him– you two are pushing it at the agency with minimal touches unless there's something really scary that forces his walls down in order to comfort you- or vice versa. After all, your affinity for one another is no one’s business but your own… but you typically are satisfied by his more public ties to you in all the ways that matter- mostly to others in your circle and strangers who he threatens to kick if they keep starin’ at you.

But here, Katsuki holding you is second nature. His true nature. He tells you he cares with every returned text, knowing look, and tender touch he keeps limited in shared company- with you as the sole recipient. 

You can only wish this could be your life everyday. Where you can maybe even start your own agency down the line somewhere; Japan’s first true power couple who can take names like none other. Launch yourselves higher and higher, work yourselves out of a job, and take a retirement in whatever way looks best for you–

When you get quiet in your thoughts, he even knows your 'hiding' tell. Your pillow tilts down to try and get your attention, finally demanding your eyes with a question laced with clear thinking,

"You meant stay stay,” Bakugou asked gently, “-didn't you. Not just- for the night.” 

You softened… nodding ever so much. Leaving room, in case he didn't agree.

What you wouldn't give for him to be your meal prep partner till you both retire from hero work- and then some.

Either nothing went through his mind, or one singular anthem bounced around in there, because all Bakugou did to your little melting expression was kiss you softly, turning you back into the bed, and flopping solidly on top of your chest.

"...gimme 30 minutes. Then let's go get my shit. I call the front room work table."

You're over the moon, and your jaw drops on its own. He’s so ready- barely even thought it through! Or maybe… he was always thinking of it, and was waiting on you.

With that excitement flooding you, you peppered his hair full of kisses until he groaned for you to stop– only after the first ten...

[sugoi-writes]

Hi, i have a proposition for you...

Alastor catching himself bleating whenever reader touches him 👀

(i just find it so adorable when he squeaks like a little fawn when Rosie pulls him in that one scene and the theory that he does that only when he's happy and with a person he feels comfortable with)

Gdhdhd I had discovered this a while back, and the idea THRILLS me. To no fucking end! I hope this is okay and worth the wait! (Two Fics in one week? HUH?)

No warnings for this one! Just cute cute fluff (I'm doing my best! ;w; gdhdhdhd)

A Bleating Heart - Alastor x GN! Reader

You were reading your book in Alastor's armchair, taking in the heat that radiated from the mint green flames of the fireplace. When you heard a groan to your rear, you paused. You looked behind you, only to see Alastor tossing and turning onto his side. You couldn't help your frown, watching as Alastor's brows furrowed. The Radio Demon was frustrated, his cheek smashed into his pillow aggressively. 

"...everything alright, dear?" You ask softly, recalling that he was 'laying down' to get rid of his headache. Though you knew that Alastor wasn't one for sleep, you kept quiet and content all the same. But when he shook his head, pointing directly to it, you understood perfectly. 

" 'Antlers still bothering you, huh...? Headache?" 

Alastor hummed lowly, turning over and laying face down into his bed. While he was muffled by a pillow, you could barely make out what he said:

" I loathe shedding... It hasn't even begun, and-- oh, they itch-- to no end..." 

"And I assume that doesn't help your headache either?" 

Alastor grumbled, unable to be upset at your gentle pestering. You doted on him like his mother, a quality he would never admit to loving about you," ...Not a lick, dear..." 

You innocently stand from the armchair, walking over to Alastor's bedside," Would... Would it helped if you laid your head in my lap?" 

Alastor raises his head up slightly, eyes narrowed," I hardly see how that could help in this predicament..." You sigh, gently rolling Alastor over onto his back before sitting in the space he used to occupy. Begrudgingly, he did not stop you, but his eyes followed you cautiously. 

"Just trust me... Okay?" 

Alastor's expression soured. Trust is a hard-earned thing to receive from him. The Radio Demon, in all his glory, was slow to make acquaintances, and slower to give out trust. But, he relented, allowing you to sit beside him comfortably. When you patted your lap expectantly, Alastor complied. Due to his antlers, he awkwardly laid sideways on his bed, knees rising and coming together as his head finally met your lap. Thankfully, you would not be disemboweled by his accursed antlers tonight. 

When you smiled down to him, Alastor simply closed his eyes, unable to look your way without feeling embarrassed. This was well outside of his comfort zone. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable while his body did everything to antagonize him. He felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, despite your plush thighs cradling his head.

However, when he felt your hand brush against his hair, scratching gently, his throat ran dry. All nerves and stiffeness became lesser; like the rest of his senses, they became dulled. 

The touch was... Foreign, soft... But not unwelcome. It was soothing, even. When you continued to touch, your hands working in subtle circles against his scalp, he couldn't help the quiet, pleased hum that left him. 

" 'Feels good, my buck?" 

Alastor cracked one eye open, his smile wavering,"...please don't make me say it out loud," Alastor said quietly, a chuckle rising in his throat. You shrugged, not minding his shyness. 

"Hmm, it would be so much cuter if you did, though~" 

When your hand moved to an antler, scratching gently at the base, a full-body tremor ran through his neck down to his hooves. His knees knocked together, a quiet, animalistic noise tumbling out of him. You blink a few times, surprised by the noise, and decided to repeat the action. When a meek, content bleat hit your ears, your eyes nearly doubled in size. You were beaming down at Alastor, a large, giddy inhale expanding your chest. Your heart throbbed at the subconscious gesture. 

Meanwhile, Alastor's eyes were slammed shut, much tighter than before. His heart was racing with anxiety, his palms suddenly feeling clammy. 

Why. Why now, of all times, could he not keep his pathetic little ticks at bay? Of course he found comfort in your company, but-- 

...Maybe he should have used his words, after all. 

"Alastor, was that...?" 

"If you value your life, you will never speak of this again." 

You throw your free hand up defensively, a coy smile on your face," Oh sure, sure... Of course. Whatever you say, Alastor." When a second hand joined the other, lightly scratching at the base of his other antler, that small, high pitched bleat bounced right out of him. 

"Mmm... Yes... Yes, not a word, mon ange... Not a single word... but this-- this is fine for now..." 

You chuckle, increasing the pressure you applied as Alastor melted into your touch. 

"If you continue to be this adorable, I would never speak again, if it meant you stayed like this forever~" Alastor's hands folded together, laying on his chest. Soon enough his knees fell apart, creating a wide 'v'. He looks to you with both eyes as his brow twitches. 

"And what fun would that be? I rather enjoy our conversations, cher." You nearly snorted, surprised that Alastor didn't realize you were joking. 

You laugh, your shoulders shaking with an effort to be quiet as Alastor's legs finally gave out, hanging lazily off of the bed. When your hands moved higher up his antlers, you noticed his legs swinging back and forth idly. You wondered if he noticed, or if this was yet another subconscious action. 

" Fine, fine... I promise to keep talking~ but only if I get to keep spoiling you like this." 

Alastor feels his heart squeeze at the notion, a warmth spreading across his cheeks and ears. He refused to confirm or deny your request with words, instead shimmying his shoulders to sink further into your lap. An open-mouthed sigh was your only response as you lightly dragged your nails across one of his points, his hands untangling from one another. His body almost felt like liquefied, completely and utterly relaxed, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on his bed. And for once, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it while in someone else's presence. 

He felt safe... Immensely so. But he would never profess to that to you so soon. 

For now, he was content with you playing with his hair, scratching his irritable antlers while he listened to you speak. Quite frankly, it wouldn't take long for Alastor's mind to shut down, his body losing the fight to slumber. When you noticed his breathing toggle to a steady, silent repetition, you resigned yourself to being a pillow. If you were honest, you would sooner die again than move from that spot. You would only permit that once Alastor woke up again, head clear and eyes soft... You wondered how he would look waking up, the adorable thought alone making you feel a surge of glee.

You didn't mind the sensation of pins and needles settling in your legs, knowing that this was a rare moment. Why interrupt something so fleeting? So precious?

You couldn't help but watch as Alastor laid in your lap, unmoving and completely slack. You decided you wouldn't tell him about how he lost his smile while he slept. In the rarest of moments, his lips were agape, formed into a flat, horizontal line. You'd tuck that secret into the back of your mind for safe keeping... A fond memory you'd hang on to for the rest of your afterlife. (A secret almost as precious as his quiet snores, which started when you played with his hair again.) You almost squeaked when Alastor bleated again, much softer than when he was awake. Yes, it would be best if you never mentioned it... Alastor would die from sheer embarrassment alone, you think.

You let out a tired yawn, your mind wandering. Honestly? If you were really, truly in Hell... Well, this was a pretty splendid way to spend it, wasn't it? Why seek forgiveness and redemption, when your entire world was in your lap? And with that thought in mind, you decided to get some sleep, your head resting against the cool wood of Alastor's headboard. 

[martian-astro10]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 6

Moon in 10th gives you a sassy (in a good way) father in law. Also, your spouse can be the best in their field. After marriage, you can be closer to your partner's family than your own. If you don't have a good relationship with your parents, then your partner's family will fill that void. (I know a gay guy with this placement and his husband was disowned by his family when he came out but my friend's family treat him as their own son. They have a really sweet relationship. I love this placement)

Rahu will either take away everything or give the best results related to the things of the house it's in. It really depends on it's dispositor. For ex- if rahu is in 5th, it can either give you a partner who is intelligent, creative, energetic, has a lot of hobbies, or it can give you a partner who drinks a lot, parties a lot, sleeps around, etc. it can also either give you a lot of kids or none at all.

Mercury in 9th gives you an intelligent spouse, they can also be a multilingual person. If you're a woman then your partner can have a little, teeny tiny tendency to mansplain, it's honestly like, they're so proud of their knowledge that they just wanna show how much they know, it can be a little annoying sometimes but nothing too serious. (I know a guy with this and his wife is so cute, she looks like a child every time she talks about her interests, you can tell how much she enjoys sharing her experiences and knowledge, it's kinda cute actually)

Venus in 7th is that placement that completely changes you after marriage, especially your fashion sense. it's because it aspects your 1st house, so definitely a huge change in personality, you can also get a glow up after marriage. Also, it can give a rich partner, kinda like a crazy rich Asians type situation. (I know a girl with this placement and she was so innocent before marriage, she wouldn't even wear revealing clothes and stuff but then after marriage, her mother in law basically threw out all her old clothes and got her new ones, I met her recently and BRO, she looked so different, so beautiful and she was wearing clothes that actually suit her body type and skin color. Also her mother in law is COOL AS FUCK, every time I look at her, I'm like, yeah, this is who I aspire to be like in the future) last point, you'll have a very loving marriage

Jupiter in 2nd is THAT placement. so many celebrities who are married to rich business men have this. I feel like this is one of the placements that just makes you very materialistic, like money is very important for you all, so you should marry someone who is just as materialistic. (I know people with this placement who don't get lonely or offended even when their spouses are workaholics, both you and your spouse think that money should take priority over any other matter) I'll be honest, your married life can be a little dry, but not if Jupiter is in a good sign

Sun in 9th is OFC another good placement. I haven't really seen this mentioned anywhere but this is like THE foreign spouse placement. all the people I know who have this, married someone who was not from their country. You'll also travel a lot after marriage. It gives you a really charming partner, like they can charm the pants off you. Also, the sexual tension is HIGH, Especially if sun is in Aries. There's also a high chance that you're an introvert but your spouse is not, so they can help you get out of your comfort zone

Saturn in 3rd can be such a calm and mature placement, it's like, you know how many men don't talk about the problems they face in a relationship, and then they start acting shitty and wait for the woman to break up. With this placement you get a responsible partner, someone who is willing to talk and meet halfway but you have got to match their energy yk. if you have a weak Mercury in d1, then this placement is not nice, cuz your communication skills are shit and they are TOO mature, so the moment you play games with them, they'll leave you. So work on yourself, is what I would say.

For ketu also, if the dispositor is well placed then you achieve balance in that area, but if not, then you feel detached. ( I know 2 people with ketu in 7th, one is so against marriage and she has extremely high standards, which tbh, are not even practical but the other one has high achievable standards. The funny thing is that the first one has always dated guys who were not good to her and the other has had zero dating experience cuz she's waiting for the right guy. So the detachment sometimes refers to "wrong attachment".

You all are not gonna like this but Jupiter in 7th is one of the STRONGEST indicators of getting married a lot of times. Jupiter in 1st as well, it's not that strong but chances are high. (Halley berrey, Jennifer Lopez, angelina jolie and Scarlett Johansson have it)

To end it on a good note, if you have mars in 5th, just know I'm jealous of you, cuz if there's one thing that you're not gonna lack in your marriage, it's sex. You guys will be those parents who kiss each other even you've been married for 35 years, you do that and then your kids go "ewww, you guys are so cringy" and run away. (Just make sure that mars is not conjunct or aspected by Saturn or rahu, Saturn gives no sex, rahu gives painful sex)

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