#both because if I don’t I might collapse and also because just walking five feet takes so much energy that I get so exhausted I feel like

[arecaceae175]

For Want Of Rest: Ch. 6

FAN JOY JULY!

Fic Summary: Five times Sky falls asleep somewhere that isn’t a bed plus one time they all do. Or, Sky struggles to manage his disabilities, then the chain has a conversation about accessibility and accommodations.

Fan Joy July! Each chapter is inspired a few amazing art pieces of Sleepy Sky <3. There are plenty more chapters and art inspirations to come :D

Chapter Summary: They eep. They also have a conversation about accommodations. 2.5k, fluff and hurt/comfort.

Happy July 35th everybody :/ Here it is :D. THIS IS HEADCANON GALOOOOORE hehehe. I gave everyone a Thing. Also featuring they/them wind so she/her legend isn’t lonely

Art pieces (Look at the arts before you read, it will enhance the experience hehe):

Facedown on the floor by @raycatzdraws Rest by @alis-art-stuff

I am so in love with both of these arts. Raycatzdraws is so so SO funny. Every position is hilarious and also SO in character. And alis-art-stuff's piece is a perfect fluffy companion. Looking at this art feels like a warm hug. Everyone is so comfy and happy!

Warnings: detailed descriptions of chronic pain, references to past ableism (with direct ableist quotes), subsequent internalized ableism. They discuss medical issues in this one but they don’t have many of the correct terms or understanding of health conditions, so obligatory please do not take this as medical advice :)

The last bokoblin crumbled to dust at his feet. Sky stumbled to the side, caught in the momentum of the swing of his sword.

"That's the last of them," Warriors said.

"Good fight. Any injuries?” Time asked, just as he did after every battle. No one spoke up, so he nodded in approval. “We should find somewhere nearby to rest.”

Very, very slowly, Sky lowered himself to the ground. His knees, hips, and back popped painfully, so stiff he could barely move them. Sky didn't bother holding back a grimace. Sky pushed his legs out behind him, laid his arms by his side, and collapsed face first in the grass. His entire body throbbed. Sky tried to breathe evenly through the wave of pain.

"Uh, Sky?"

"Here. Rest," Sky mumbled into the dirt. Grass got in his mouth. Removing it seemed like an insurmountable task. It wasn't like it tasted that bad, anyway.

A pause. "Anyone catch that?"

Sky groaned loudly as he turned his head to the side just enough to free his mouth. "Rest. Here." 

Hyrule frowned, glancing around from the top of the hill they were on. The grassy fields continued for miles. "Isn't this a little exposed?"

"Rest here."

Four shrugged. "We did just clear the monsters."

"See? Rest now." Sky wouldn't have been able to get up if he tried. Everything hurt and he was so tired he might cry.

"I'm so on it," Wind said. "I'm so with you." They dropped to their knees—Sky flinched, knowing how his knees would feel if he did that—then sat back on their heels. Wind's arms flopped backwards as they curled forward and shoved their face in the ground. Their forehead touched the ground, leaving their mouth free for complaining. Sky respected the commitment.

"We have been walking and fighting and walking and fighting and running all week. No more," Wind said.

Sky grunted his agreement. The heroes within his line of sigh all looked at him with a wince, eyebrows drawn together and eyes wide with concern. Sky belatedly realized his sound might have been more pitiful than he intended it to be.

"Yeah, that about does it." Legend put her last item away in her bag then flopped onto the grass next to Sky.

"You mind?" Legend asked. Sky made a noise he hoped was significantly less disturbing than before. It must have worked, because Legend laid down with her head on Sky's backside. Sky made a noise of surprise.

"What?" Legend said. "It's soft."

Any reply Sky would have made was cut off by Warriors dramatic sigh as he collapsed on the ground. His legs were bent underneath his body and he haphazardly threw his arms over his face, resulting in his scarf billowing over his head and covering his face completely.

"This is fine," Warriors said, muffled by the scarf.

Twilight laid down next to him and collected the end of Warriors' scarf to use as a pillow. Wild draped himself over Twilight's legs and dragged Hyrule down with him. Hyrule yelped in surprise but relented quickly enough. He stuck one foot into Legend's side as he got comfortable. Four laid on the grass in the most awkward position physically possible. Sky's joints throbbed in pain just looking at it. Sky couldn't see Time from his angle, but going by the loud thump, Time was now also on the ground.

Sky hummed happily and put his face back in the dirt. There was a nice little indentation right where his nose was, so he wasn't even suffocating. How convenient, he thought.

Sky's muscles were still tense from the battle adrenaline. As hard as he tried, he couldn't quite drift off to sleep. His body ached, every joint and every muscle throbbing in time with his heart. The longer he laid on his stomach, the more the fire-like pain in his back spread. He knew he would regret laying like this later, but he really, really didn’t want to move. 

"This is boring," Wind said.

The heroes burst into laughter. Sky chuckled quietly, with as much energy as he could muster.

“Let’s find shapes in the clouds!” Wild suggested. 

“Ooh! Yes! Everyone play!” Wind cheered. 

Sky sighed and tried to will his body to relax. The level of effort he was putting would have been comical—he couldn’t force himself to relax, that defeated the purpose—if he wasn’t so utterly worn down. Everything hurt and he really, really wanted to be asleep. Sharp pressure stung behind his eyes. Sky flopped an arm over them and breathed deeply, desperately trying not to cry. 

The voices of the other heroes sounded like they were underwater. Or, maybe Sky was underwater and they were above. That made more sense, he thought. He certainly felt like he was underwater, drowning as he was pulled down by invisible forces. And how could he fight an enemy he couldn’t see?

A hand touched his boot. Sky flinched, eyes flying open with a gasp. Legend was sitting up beside him; Sky hadn’t noticed the change in pressure when she moved. Legend flashed him an apologetic smile. 

“The sailor wants you to look at the clouds,” Legend said. “You’ve got about ten seconds before they drag you over there themself. Just a warning.”

“Over where?” Sky asked. His neck ached from the strain of looking sideways at Legend. 

In response, Legend tilted her head over her shoulders. The other heroes were gathered in a circle, laying on their backs with their heads together. Legend carefully pushed herself to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. Beneath her braces, her joints popped. She shook them out then went to the circle. 

Instead of taking the closest open spot, she deliberately stepped on Warriors’ chest. Her step was light enough that it wouldn’t hurt, and more than enough for Warriors to yelp and swat her away. Legend laughed as she let herself be tackled onto the ground. 

Just as Legend predicted, it was no more than ten seconds before Wind was hopping up from the circle and bounding over to Sky. They knelt next to Sky’s head with a wide smile. “Sky, come look at clouds with us!” 

Sky forced a smile even as tears gathered in his eyes. As soon as they started, he couldn’t stop. Tears flowed down his face as Sky choked on a sob, burying his face in his arms in shame. 

“Sky?” Wind’s voice was panicked. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

Sky sniffled and shook his head, ignoring the pinpricks of pain throughout his neck and shoulders. “No, I— I’m— it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong?” Wind asked again. 

“I don- I don’t know,” Sky cried. “I’m just…”

Wind’s hand landed on his back and they started rubbing comforting circles. Another sob forced its way out of Sky’s chest. 

“You should turn over,” Twilight said. Sky sniffed and looked up in surprise. Twilight was right next to him. They all were, Sky realized; the others had moved their circle over to Sky and were all trying very hard not to stare at him in concern. 

“Your back always hurts when you lay like that,” Twilight continued. 

A fresh wave of emotion forced more tears out of Sky’s eyes. “You— how?”

Twilight smiled sadly at him. “I noticed. You never said anything about it, though, so…” Twilight shrugged. 

“Here,” Wind said, voice determined. “Can I help?” 

Sky nodded and wiped his nose miserably. Wind put one hand beneath his shoulder and the other beneath his hip.

“Ready? Set, go!” 

With Wind’s added momentum, Sky turned over on the first try with minimal difficulty. As soon as he landed on his back, the pain intensified and the sound of blood rushing filled his ears. Sky’s breath hitched, then he forced himself to calm down and breathe through the pain as his joints released their tension. 

“Are you having regrets?” Legend asked in a teasing tone. Sky knew that was how she showed her concern, and the words warmed his heart. 

“Mmhmm,” Sky mumbled in reply. His voice wavered far more than he expected. 

The sharp pain receded, and Sky finally was able to take a full breath. He let his arms flop on the grass above his head. Sky let himself breathe and relax. 

“Sky?” Twilight asked, voice uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Sky’s eyes felt like sandpaper under his eyelids as he dragged them open. 

“We wanted to talk to you about… this,” Twilight continued. 

Sky’s face burned with shame. His ears pinned themselves against his head. He glanced at the other heroes, all clearly staring, then shoved his eyes closed again. 

This was it. They were going to tell him he was being too slow and he needed to be better. He needed to try harder . Somewhere in the logical part of his mind, Sky knew he was being unfair to them, but a lifetime of being told to just suck it up and do better and being far, far too slow clouded his judgment.

“I’m sorry. I can do better,” Sky said. 

“What?” Legend interjected harshly. “What are you on about?”

Sky sniffled and wiped his eyes to keep his tears at bay. He drew in a shaky breath before he continued. “I know I’ve been slow lately, but I’ll do better. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry.”

“No, Sky, that’s not what’s happening here,” Warriors said quickly. “We want to help.”

Sky’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. “You… what do you mean?”

“Back in your era, after you passed out, we talked to Zelda about it. We weren’t hiding this from you, but we haven’t had a chance to bring it up since.”

“...Oh. Um…”

Wind’s hand slipped into his and squeezed. Sky squeezed back, at a loss for words. 

“That was scary,” Wind said quietly. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Sky’s stomach flipped. “I’m sorry.”

Wind squeezed his hand again. “It’s not your fault! The only thing you should be sorry about is not telling us that could happen! How were we supposed to know you’d be okay?”

“Sailor,” Warriors admonished quietly. “Sky, there’s nothing wrong with needing extra help. We all do, sometimes. I… I may not have said it out loud before, but I have battlesickness. You know that, and I know any of you will help me calm down when I can’t remember where I am. Do you blame me for that?”

“Of course not!” Sky said. 

“You’ve helped me apply my scar gel before! And you always make tea when me or Twilight have cramps,” Wild said. 

“I have a blind side. I can’t see attacks,” Time said.

“My shoulder won’t grow right after a monster flung me around. I can’t move it all the way and it hurts, sometimes,” Wind said. 

“This isn’t like that,” Sky interrupted, clenching his free hand in frustration. “This isn’t from my adventure. It comes and goes with how bad it is, but I’ve always been this way.”

“You know my joints are terrible. That’s something you and I have in common,” Legend added. “The braces help, but I’m not always up for moving. You’ve never blamed me for that.”

“I’ve had migraines all my life,” Four said. “More after my adventures, just like you.”

“I have food allergies,” Hyrule said. “Those aren’t my fault and they’ve been here forever.”

“It… it doesn’t get better. I have to deal with this every day.” Sky’s voice had a hint of a whine to it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Everything hurts all the time. I’m so tired. I can’t even stand up without my body collapsing. It’s— it’s really, really hard,” Sky finished in a small voice. 

Wind squeezed his hand. The group was silent for a moment, only the sounds of crickets jumping through the grass. 

“Zelda told us some things she and Groose do to help,” Warriors said. “I’d like to hear what you do day to day to manage it, if you’re comfortable sharing.”

Sky blinked up at the clouds through teary eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“I always watch food being prepared, that helps my anxiety. I don’t like my face or neck being touched. When I’m panicking, breathing exercises and asking me to describe my surroundings are what help,” Warriors offered. 

After a beat, enough time for Sky to speak up if he wanted, Legend continued. “I stretch every morning and night. I have pain relief tea if I need it. Movement helps the inflammation stay down, but too much running or jumping makes things worse.”

“Oh,” Sky realized. “That’s— my knees are the same. If they stay straight or bent for too long they get hard to move.”

“There, see? Stuff like that,” Warriors encouraged. “What else do you know?”

“Um. When I passed out, that was from standing too quickly. Well, the portal makes everything feel worse, and I don’t usually fully pass out. When I sit up or stand up I have to move really slow or I feel bad for a while. I lean or sit as often as I can. I sleep as much as I can, but I’m still tired all the time, no matter how much I rest. Is that— is that okay?”

“You’re doing great, Sky. That’s exactly what we mean,” Twilight said. 

“Zelda mentioned the exhaustion too,” Warriors said. “She said stamina fruit helps…”

The Links stayed on the hill, resting and talking for the rest of the day. Time tired of talking quickly, but he listened with a smile on his face. Wind, Wild, and Hyrule pointed out exciting clouds during lapses in the conversation. The other heroes offered things about themselves they had learned and things that helped them, too, so Sky wasn’t the only one. They made sure he didn’t feel like a burden, and they made sure he felt loved. 

For once, Sky was not the first to fall asleep. Time and Wild hadn’t responded in a while, and Legend hadn’t opened her eyes for her last three comments. Sky could feel the fatigue tugging on his eyelids as he struggled to keep up with the conversation. After his third yawn in as many sentences, Warriors reached over Wind and ruffled Sky’s hair. 

“Get some sleep,” Warriors said with a fond chuckle. “I’ll wake everyone up in time to make camp before dusk.”

“Okay,” Sky said around another yawn. He sighed contentedly and drifted off more easily than he had in weeks. He felt light, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. The problems with his body may not be able to be solved, but Sky was confident they could be managed, especially with his family by his side. 

[gi4hao]

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ ˎˊ- their favorite thing to do with you

aka my take on what makes them express their love for you in a special way <3

reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

— seungcheol + nighttime cuddles

it’s one of the rare moments when he can fully let go of his responsibilities and turn his brain off so sign him up. he’ll speed run his entire shower routine just to get five more minutes of calm cuddle time before bed. big spoon, little spoon, it really depends on his mood; but he’ll always make sure you feel held and protected no matter what, and so will you.

— jeonghan + going for a walk

at first he didn’t notice how much it meant to him. but after some time spent away from you, he realized how much he missed your silly little walks. they don’t always have a purpose, and it’s what makes them so nice. you two just wandering around town, hand in hand and your arms swinging at a regular pace. it fills his heart with nothing but love, because he thinks the world always looks a little more beautiful when you’re with him <3

— joshua + making plans for the future

whether it’s planning an upcoming trip or something more distant (your wedding for example…), joshua loves talking about his future with you. he likes to picture you in his life forever, and to hear how you picture him in yours. sometimes it’s just sleepy late-night conversations, sometimes it’s the two of you cuddling in bed and creating pinterest boards on your phones. that way when one of you gets stressed about the future, you can remember you have a lifetime to figure things out together.

— jun + watching your favorite movies

especially at the beginning of the relationship! i feel like jun could ask you to make him a list of your favorite movies and offer to watch them together, because it’s a great way to get to know each other on a deeper level. and he’d be happy to make a list of his own as well! obviously many inside jokes would emerge from these movie nights, making you the kind of insufferable yet cute couple that can hold a full conversation with no one else understanding.

— hoshi + dancing in the kitchen

sometimes it starts with him slowly swinging from left to right as he hugs you from behind, leading to something rather tender. other times it’s him grabbing your arm and making you twirl on some catchy pop-rock song. it’s his own way of expressing how happy these small moments of domesticity make him. of course he’ll also throw some singing in there, and yes he will snatch the wooden spoon from your hands to turn it into a mic.

— wonwoo + taking pictures

there are two sides to that. the first one is when a particularly aesthetic situation occurs and you both take a bunch of pretty pictures. the second one is more personal, more spontaneous. it’s wonwoo sneaking snapshots of you doing mundane things like brushing your teeth or petting a stray cat. it’s also taking low quality selfies of the two of you doing nothing in bed (with you often wearing his clothes), or just during any moment you’ll want to remember and cherish forever.

— woozi + napping

ok let’s be real here: a busy man needs to optimize his time, which means that you will get dragged into bed with him so that he can collapse on top of you and sleep like a log. but what makes it fun are the moments when he shortly emerges from his slumber and changes his position like some sort of touch-starved zombie, frowning until he gets to trap you in his arms again. he loves to say you’re exaggerating when you tell him about it, but you’re absolutely not…

—dokyeom + day trips

he loves loves loves making memories with you, so he’ll gladly dedicate half of his weekend to go on various day trips with you! he’ll pack your lunches himself, make sure you don’t have to carry any bags throughout the day, and even carry you on his back if your feet start to hurt. your camera rolls are filled with pictures of these little trips, and he wouldn’t mind talking about them for hours to anyone who will listen. he might even make a little handmade scrapbook of these memories for your valentine’s day gift :3

— mingyu + grocery shopping

you always go to the same supermarket and the cashiers all think you’re their cutest clients because of how happy you look together. there’s just something about the way he pushes the cart while reading the grocery list out loud that makes you feel like the luckiest person on the planet. also, mingyu will always insist on buying you a little treat during every grocery trip. even when you’re not with him, he knows which ones are your favorite and he never ever gets it wrong.

— minghao + museum dates

it’s the epitome of peacefulness to him. holding your hand as you wander among the artworks, discussing them, sharing your thoughts and sometimes cracking jokes in each other’s ear. when he sees you getting closer to a painting or a sculpture, he’ll stay a few steps back to take a picture of you, a proud smile on his lips as he captures the moment. “again?” you ask when you catch him in the act. “you know you look too pretty to only take one,” he replies, leaving a kiss on your temple.

— seungkwan + skincare routine

you shared a face mask with him once and it’s become a regular occurrence ever since. of course seungkwan knows how to do his own skincare, but it’s so much better when you do it for him! head resting on your lap, you could make him wear your stupidest headband and he wouldn’t even complain. he likes how gentle you are when applying the products on his face, and he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever laid his eyes on.

— vernon + flea market

he likes everything about it. he likes that little game you have of pointing two remotely associated items and saying ‘us’. he likes to come up with backstories for the things that are being sold. and you like to remind him of that time he pointed at a trinket and asked “who even buys that?” right in front of the person who was about to get it (but he lets you laugh about it, because he just loves hearing your laugh). all in all, it’s a privileged moment where he gets to enjoy the beauty of simple things with his favorite person, and that’s all he’s ever wanted.

— dino + supporting your passions/hobbies

let me explain! obviously he loves it when you keep him company while he’s training or when you patiently listen to him ramble about it; so he’s really careful about reciprocating that energy as much as possible. that’s why he often comes to support you at your sports competitions, art shows, or just any kind of hobby you might have. he shows genuine interest and will always your biggest cheerleader no matter what, always pushing you to do your very best in what you love.

[nope-body]

Scratch what I said before about being fine, this fucking sucks.

Guess which idiot took their morning-only med (a stimulant) at night?

This one!

[badgirlcovenrep]

omg chenrich prompts? hell yeah!! Okay so how about immediately after the council meeting? Steph taking Alex to the hospital because u KNOW its steph who takes her to get treated

As is expected I got a little carried away 😁

So this is a bit of a mix between chenrich in the hospital and medical grade painkillers Alex lol

Hope you enjoy!

No one could have prepared them for that community meeting. Steph shook all over just to think of Jed luring Alex into the woods. Of him leaving her for dead in some awful mining hole.

It made her so furious. Even hearing him cry, blabbering like a sad shadow of the man she'd known (the man that was all a charismatic lie, showmanship, to hide the disgusting truth) her anger, her hurt was too fresh for the girl to gather any sort of sadness for him.

"I'm sorry, Ryan," Alex repeats, standing at the bar with them.

Ryan is staring, speechless, at his father's crying shadow.

"I'm so sorry-" she tries to take a step forward, but her feet falter, and Alex nearly topples over to the ground, grunting in pain as Steph jumps to hold her elbow and help steady her into the floor once again.

"Fuck, Alex, you need a doctor." Steph insists. But Alex is looking at Ryan with so much concern that she can't get her to move.

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ryan finally speaks, breaking out of whatever haze he'd been in to look back at her, "It's not your fault. I just- need a moment to process all this. Go with Steph, you're hurt."

Alex finally looks at her then, and Steph can feel herself plead with her eyes - because she might not know a lot about these sorts of injuries but she's smart enough to know - just by the way she's swaying back and forth on unsteady feet - they probably have another minute, at most, before Alex collapses.

"You did it." Steph mumbles, voice filling with unbridled pride as well as urgency, touching down Alex's arm to hold her cold hand, "You did it, ok? You can settle down now."

Her brown eyes are hazy, blinking back to Steph with rapidly heavying eyelids.

"Good. That's- That's good." Alex slurs back, the last reminiscent of adrenaline leaking out of her body in a heavy huff, "very, very good-"

Steph barely has a second to process what is happening before Alex's body gives out. By some miracle, she's able to flip her arms around her shoulders just fast enough to stop her from falling to the ground.

****

Pike helps her take Alex to the local hospital before going back to deal with Jed's arrest.

It's a small hospital and probably has about ten rooms, but given that these sorts of things (bad things) rarely ever happen in Haven Springs, they're quickly given a private room, and Alex is just conscient enough (before she passes out from the painkillers) to tell the staff she could stay.

Steph doesn't think she would have left either way. Not without knowing Alex was alright, but it's good to have permission to sit by her as she fluttered in and out of drug-induced, heavy sleep.

The doctor had given her the run-down of the other girl's injuries. Five broken ribs, stage two trauma to the head - probable concussion to be assessed once she was more awake - a punctured lung, internal bleeding all around the ribcage, and a bullet wound to the shoulder.

She was an absolute mess of scars. A walking, breathing miracle.

Steph had heard the doctor talking to the police when she stepped out to get some snacks at the vending machines. "She should be dead." He said, with such conviction and surprise, it made her stomach turn.

Steph felt that she could do nothing but sit by Alex's sleeping form, slowly realizing that she was absolutely screwed. Because she already liked this girl way too much - and God, what a roller-coaster of emotion she'd been put on the last month - but how could she not? When Alex just waltzed into everyone's lives like this determined, selfless little light? When she was so obviously a rare soul, made of so much sweetness, and softness, and strength, Steph doubted she'd ever come across someone like her again?

Looking at the circumstances from the other side now, it seemed as inevitable as any of it.

"I can feel you thinking." Alex's voice startles her out of her thoughts. Steph looks up to meet her tired brown eyes, looking so soft and vulnerable without her glasses and surrounded by clean hospital sheets, "You've been broody lately."

Steph giggles, choking on her own emotion, "Guess I'm still mad about Jed." It's not a lie. She is upset. But there was a lot more than that, more about how her insides swelled with emotion when Alex looked at her - but she leaves it the way it is.

"I forgave him." She shrugs. And Steph knows she did, she was there after all, but that didn't mean the drummer was quite as ready herself.

"Well, I didn't." And maybe that makes her childish - resentful - but she can't take the image of him pointing a gun at Alex out of her head. The image of him pulling the trigger, sending her off to what could very well have been death - "at least you made him cry like a baby."

"Jerk." Alex smiles, eyes squinting back at her in humorous indignation before they slowly turn more vulnerable as she adjusts herself on the mattress, patting the empty space beside her body, "Can you- come lie down with me?"

There's nothing, truly, that Steph would have liked more. She would take any chance of being closer to Alex (and of getting off the uncomfortable hospital chair) but she was also still afraid - still scared something might go wrong and they'd lose her. "Are you sure? You're hurt."

"Please?" Alex pleads, blinking back at her with honest-to-God puppy eyes, even if still a little glassed-over from the amount of Vicodin they were pumping into her veins. For the umpteenth time in the past few days, Steph has even more confirmation that she is screwed.

Because, honestly, there's nothing Alex couldn't get her to do with just a slow blink of her brown eyes.

So she gets up and climbs into bed with her. It's incredibly tight for two people, and they are instantly pressed together as Alex scoots over the pillow so they can look at each other, alone in this hospital room that smelled like industrial-grade detergent.

Alex reaches forward and takes her cheeks between her palms, so very close Steph can't help but catalog all the cuts and bruises covering her face.

"You're so pretty." The girl says, finally, and Steph can hear the tiny slur in her voice. She's probably still drunk on a shit ton of medicine, but it does nothing to stop the drummer from blushing profusely, "you're, really, really pretty. Have I told you that?"

"Hm- yeah you sorta- do that when you're on painkillers." Steph comments, and her eyes can't help but fall to Alex's mouth.

She has a tiny cut on her lower lip, and Steph's fingers itch to touch it. To feel her skin again, like that night on the roof, when she felt so warm and tingly, like a live wire of electricity that could swallow Steph whole. For now, she holds her distance.

"But it's true." Alex pouts, "and you're really hot when you're protective too."

Now that- that was different from anything she'd said before. And when she looks up, the girl realizes Alex's eyes have turned to stare at Steph's lips too.

"Yeah?" She asks, a little too cocky given the situation, but oh well, you can't blame her for the swell of pride that takes over her chest.

"Yeah." Alex teases back, "Thank you. For taking care of me. For being mad at Jed for me- even if you can't do anything about it." Her tone turns sincere, and her eyes flutter everywhere but Steph's face, Alex's dead giveaway that she was trying to hold something back.

"Oh please, I'll rip his mustache off." Steph jokes, because it's her default strategy when she doesn't quite know what to do, "You have lost your right to upstanding citizen facial hair, sir!"

"Fuck, Steph, don't make me laugh." Alex says as a few stolen giggles escape her lips, creating ripples across her shattered chest that made her hiss with pain.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Steph apologizes, and on instinct, she leans closer to run her hands over Alex's arm in reassurance, holding the weight of her body above Alex with her elbow.

From this angle, they were even closer, and Steph was staring at her from above, watching Alex smile at her, head on the pillow and a half-lidded, humorous expression on her face.

"Oh, this is nothing. Just a few cuts compared to my fighting days." She jokes, and Steph's heart is filled with so much concern, so much love for this girl she can't help but fluster with anger.

"Shut up. You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't take it seriously." Steph says, "you're like, seriously hurt, Alex, you could have died."

Steph wants to ask, but Alex's free hand reaches forward and pulls her closer, fist tightening around the collar of her button-up shirt, and suddenly they are so close her hand shakes with the itch to touch her, "See? Protective Steph is so hot."

"I know. I'm sorry." Alex has the decency to look reprimanded, smoothing one hand over Steph's shoulder in a simple act that sends calming waves over Steph's flushed skin, "I'm okay. I promise" she's being sincere, Steph knows she is by the way she frowns slightly in concern. However, there's a quiet, teasing smile spreading across her face.

And Steph honestly used to think she was smooth.

She made girls blush by the minute. Awoke the bisexuality in at least a few of her drunk makeouts on the way from California to here. She used to be a real flirt, ready for anything a pretty girl could throw her way. But sitting here, with her torso half hovering over Alex Chen's body, her tongue feels heavy, and her brain can't conjure a single thing to offer in response.

It's at least a relief that she doesn't say anything, because a second later, Alex is smiling at her with her coy, knowing little smirk, and pulling her in for a kiss.

Steph is far too focused on not crushing her further, very deliberately placing her hands on both sides of her head to better hold her weight, but she still feels the strong, dizzying zap of electricity as Alex's lips touch hers, her lungs filling with liquid, warm waves of emotion.

And maybe, Steph thinks, it'd be fine if she never breathed air again.

[siriusmydeer]

ooo okay so a James Potter x reader soulmate au where they feel each others pain, and she has a suspicion he's her soulmate but it's confirmed when he falls off his broom, and she hates him being her soulmate because he's in love with lily, but he says that lily doesn't matter anymore blah blah, and she says she first thought it was him when he fell of a bench in the great hall or something after confessing his love for lily in front of the entire school (1)

‘all along that they were soulmates but she tells him its really inconsiderate for being so obvious about his love for lily when he knew he had a soulmate and he feels really guilty and tries to make it up for her and yeah fluff ending please :)’

the painful soulmate

james potter x fem!reader

summary: in a world where you can feel your soulmates pain; your soulmate happens to think someone else is his soulmate

word count: 2.2k

warning: swearing, mentions of verbally abusing someone, mentions of beating people up, injuries; falling in the air, cracked ribs, tripping, face planting. joking name calling, kissing, angst, soulmate au, insinuation of unrequited love, fluff ending

by the age of 16 you and every other witch along with wizard were given a particular... gift. you wouldn’t consider it a gift, more like your worse fucking nightmare but you could squeal and pretend to be all dainty and excited about meeting your soulmate.

i mean why not give someone a choice on who they wanted to love? this wasn’t a game of spin the bottle this was forever.

being the only female in your friend group, made all the boys amongst you ridiculously pry into your privacy. wanting to know who they had to verbally torture considering they would scoop up the ‘precious little baby-girl’ of the group.

coming directly from the drama queen himself; sirius black. it’s not like they could beat up your partner because you would be able to feel his or her pain as-well.

you were sat in the marauders dorm absently playing with your fingers while looking at each of your mates, sirius and remus attempted to finish their plans on a new prank for the newest defence against the dark arts teacher, james sat at his desk table writing up ways to ask lily more dramatically than the last and peter had been figuring out his transfiguration homework from a few days prior.

“prongs, if you know she’s gonna say no, then why ask?” remus questioned not even looked at the sapphire-eyed boy. his only logic being, ‘well ill turn her no into a yes.’ as if coercion was the way to go.

the brunette sat at the table swiftly turning his head in the lyncanthropes direction, his spectacles almost falling down his nose from the quick snap of his head. “well, lily-pad has always said, ‘not in a million years!’ but that means after a million years she’d go out with me.” finishing his speech with a small grin.

the rest of the group on the other hand looked at him dumbfounded. eyebrows either scrunched or furrowed, “james m’afraid that’s not how it works.” you spoke, trying to ease his feelings as if your words could stop his incessant pining.

“well, i’ll just make it work!” turning around and continuing his list, speaking as if he was godric gryffindor coming up with the best idea of the century. “ten galleons she says no again.” sirius quickly whispers in peters direction, the dirty blonde haired boy doing a quick nod then looking back at his parchment.

“i heard that!”

the next time there was a ramble of soulmate talk, which by the way you were getting exhausted from. why did everyone have to have a soulmate? why couldn’t you pick from your own free will? it’s not even like you could have a bloody crush because there was already someone supposedly out there for you!

one free period, ONE! and it’s spent over peter narrowing down his options on all the gryffindor girls he might be paired with. “it’s definitely not marls, peter.” sirius’ pearl irises glanced at peter than over to remus who was trying to teach you how to play wizards chess.

“moony, not to be offensive, but this game sucks arse.” you shrugged, glaring at your queen piece that looked like it wanted to yell at you. as you were twisting around the wood of your pieces, james got up from the bench catching a glimpse of red among the ravenclaw students. instead tripping on the stone of the bench and face planting into the freshly cut grass.

you felt a soreness at the fronts of your calves and an immense discomfort on your face. you grimaced while rubbing your knees trying to soothe the random shoot of exertion through your veins to the point where you almost had the urge to groan.

james quickly scrambled to his feet trying to brush out his hair that had sprinkles of green all over the front, you completely ignored the fact that james’ fall broken by the stone of the bench had caused you to have a twinge of pain into your system.

“none of you saw that.” he panted with slight embarrassment, directing his message to sirius who had his hand clenched into a fist over his lips attempting to cover up the small chortles that were threatening to escape his lips.

“don’t worry, we saw nothing.” you confirmed with an amused grin, putting your two fingers over your lips like a seal.

he grinned back at you twice as hard, your heart starting more of an upbeat frequency that you started to notice as he sat beside you moving a piece that could ruin remus’ chance at winning.

“you slimy git! you’re helping her cheat, you little slag!” remus whined, trying to analyze the board again.

after your recovery, from absolutely nothing. you were sprawled on the scarlet-couch waiting for the rest of your friends to come back from detention. you dazed into a book remus had recently given to you, an icepack laying on your foot as you were almost hypnotized by the pride and prejudice book in your hands.

“oi, m’lady!” sirius abruptly shouted while returning to his common room. you jumped from the stentorian voice, that sunk into the now not-solemn and peaceful common room.

you turned your head seeing the bespectacled boy limp onto the other vermillion couch and rest his leg onto the plush of the pillow, meanwhile, the fawn and dirty blonde haired boys sat in the gryffindor-red love seats tired from their detention.

“what’s wrong with him?” you asked, referring to james’ leg that was propped under the pillow.

“we don’t know, we were walking and he just picked up his foot in agony. who knows maybe lily stubbed her toe.” sirius amused to the rest of the group. but your eyes widened in concern, but you had— there’s absolutely and completely no way. more than one person can stub their toe in one day, not just— just one person.

almost like you were in a daze or hypnotized, as stealth as possible you grabbed the maroon coloured blanket that was rested on the arm rest of the couch you spread it over your legs covering the foot; that you had injured previously that day.

what the fuck. no seriously, what the fuck. there wasn’t— there couldn’t even be— that wouldn’t work. it’s not possible. the butterflies, the flushed face, the nervous ticks— fuck.

over the course of the next few days, you were very careful. you could’ve been mary friggin’ poppins i mean you didn’t want him to get suspicious if you were both injured at the same time. you also did not want to know if he— the boy pining over lily fucking evans since first year was possibly— no there’s no way.

the following week there was a slytherin and gryffindor quidditch game. which also happened to be incredibly nerve wracking not only for you but between both houses, as much as slytherin wanted to seem nonchalant there act was simply not going to work. this determined who would be playing in the quidditch house cup, slytherins also happened to not play the fairest in quidditch so extra gryffindor training was keen.

well now that following week, was today. the game was fine, great even. gryffindor was in the lead and james was about to score a quaffle in the hoop, that was until slytherin beater decided to bat a bludger right into james torso causing him to collapse off his broom twenty five feet into the air with nothing to break his fall. at the reflect of the bludger on james ribs you already groaned hunched over into your seat catches the attention of both peter and sirius.

dumbledore did all the spells he could in such a swiftly manner before james skidded on the muddy grass of the pitch. by then you couldn’t even hold in the moans and groans from his affliction with the hard iron bludger and the fall from the air.

both peter and sirius’ eyes widened and shared a look before taking concern to your arching figure. “m’god i didn’t think it hurt that bad!” you groaned into your hands that could almost be seen as trembling from the agony that you were in as james’ team mates brought him down to the infirmary to check for injuries which he did in-fact have.

after sirius had brought you to your dorm, attempting to do a spell to rid you of most-but not all of your pain he raced to healers wing, seeing james on the verge of unconsciousness as madam pomfrey tried to whip up a potion in a fast manner to heal the boy.

i guess it was true— james was your soulmate. your soulmate in love with another woman that is.

a few hours later james was ordered to stay the night for observation, while both sirius and peter decided to catch up remus along with james up on the other ‘things’ more, or less, that occurred during the quidditch match.

him, and lily.... weren’t soulmates? he thought maybe one day they would’ve ended up together, at some point. not his very best friend being the one he’s ‘destined’ with. but he was desperate to speak with you, how did you know? did you even know? how bad did it hurt? he had so many questions scattered around his brain, until he saw your face that was close to a grimace from pain.

“hi.” you whispered, catching his attention.

“hey.” he whispered back hoarsely, gulping at the sudden tension in the room.

“so we’re—“ “you’re my—“ you both spoke at the same time, following an humourless more-so nervous chuckle, from the both of you.

“how long— did you even know?” james started, looking at your figure as if you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

you sat down nervously, cracking your knuckles as you were unsure where to start. “i thought— i started wondering, that day me and rem were playing chess and you fell.” you cleared your throat while speaking, avoiding eye contact entirely. “my knees started to hurt, but i didn’t even notice it. the day that you came into the common room limping, was when i suspected it.” you wrung your fingers together nervously, then looking into his irises.

“you knew? why didn’t you—“ his anger already starting to get the best of him, you knew that you were his soulmate. you were right in-front of him, but you never told him; he almost felt betrayed.

“i didn’t know! only suspected. but you have to understand, james. you were incessantly pinning after lily, you claimed you were ‘in love with her’. you’re making it seem like it was gonna be so easy for me to tell you that ‘guess what, james! the girl you love actually isn’t your soulmate and it’s your best friend you have no interest in!’ prongs, m’fraud s’not that easy.” you mocked, proving your correct argument to him based on his actions.

he took a shaky breath, analyzing basically his whole life in-front of him. even though he might’ve ‘loved’ lily, you were still more important to him. soulmate or not, he would always go to you first. he could barely stand to fight with you, he couldn’t loose you over some silly crush that he had.

“it doesn’t matter— lily— she doesn’t matter. y/n it’s you, soulmate, not soulmate, who cares! lily or not lily, you’ve always been my go-to, my number one, i mean you’ve always been the most important!” he said drastically while punctuating his words, and flailing his arms in the air to prove his point to you.

you sighed looking at him, almost unsure of his words. he looked at you expectantly before speaking again, “i’ll get on my knees right now and beg to you. with broken— well now bruised but priory broken ribs. not to mention my stubbed toe.” he chuckled at last second trying to humour you.

“oh my g— get up!” you snickered at him, james potter was on his knees fighting all the pride in his system right in-front of you where you were sat. his hands grasped both sides of your thighs trying to soothe you into you forgiving him.

at the sight of him right infront of you, with the best sirius black puppy dog eyes he could muster with a pouted lip you immediately gave in. “fine.” you sighed, “fine, fine, fine.” you giggled.

both of his hands encasing your cheeks, a small pout on your lips. “can i kiss you?” he asked, his elbows resting on your thighs. you looked at him pretending to ponder off in thought; shrugging while you spoke, “hmmm, maybe. i gues—“ he quickly cut you off, kissing your pouted lips in the middle of a sentence.

you kissed back, holding his face between your agile fingers. your right hand resting on his squared jaw and the other in his fluffy and borderline-sweaty hair. your lips slotting together, he could feel the mint taste from the gum you have chewed earlier bleed onto his tastebuds; you on the other hand, not such a memorable taste.

you quickly pulled away, a dramatic whine escaping from his throat. “you remember when you face planted into the dirt earlier?” you giggled while asking him. he looked at you confused; why would... you... be asking if he remembered himself falling?

“erm, yeah i can recall.”

“yeah your mouth tastes like dirt.”

taglist: @fathermarty @kittykylax @ronweasleyluvr @aspiringsloth20 @dear-luna @famdomhideout @hufflepogue

if your username is crossed out that means you gave me the wrong username or your settings for public display tags are off!

[aelingalathyniusrailme]

Gwynriel- when Gwyn confesses to Azriel about being in love with him but he thinks he isn't good enough for her so he runs away, but while he's gone Gwyn gets injured and then he confesses too

It's been a couple weeks since I got this one but I finally got around to it. I hope you enjoy it and please stick around for the ending it's my favorite part. also if anyone likes it and wants to send me more prompts my inbox is always open

‘hold me until we are all but dust’

“Azriel,” she held his hands in her own, gripping them as she looked into his eyes. “Azriel, I think-no I know you are my mate. And I know that you struggle with conveying your feelings so you don’t have to say it back, but I couldn’t live with myself if you didn’t know that,” She felt her eyes begin to water and she huffed out a laugh. “That I love you, and I didn’t think it would ever have been possible for me to feel this way after what had happened to me. And god did I want it, but only in my wildest dreams and fantasies did I think that even a fraction of how I feel now, was possible. But you, my shadowsinger, have exceeded any expectation I could have ever hoped for and I know there will never be anyone else who can make me feel as safe, has been my friend, challenges me, and infuriates me as much as you do.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed.

She delicately cupped his face in her palms, gently wiping a tear away. Gwyn whispered, “you idiot I love you.”

“Gwyn,” he said again. So rarely was he at a loss for words but it seemed he could say nothing more than her name. The words were there, screaming at him to be voiced, pleading, begging, and yet he could do nothing. He didn’t deserve her, in what world was this beautiful, spirited female allowed to love him. Everywhere Azriel went, he hurt and destroyed but he would not hurt her. Gwyn deserved to thrive, to grow, but he was all darkness, shadows, and endless voids. He was where light and warmth went to die. “Gwyn,” he said one last time and opened his mouth to voice every incoherent thought he had, in his mess of a mind. But once again no words came.

“Hey.” she forced him to look at her. “Hey. I am not asking for you to say anything back and when you are ready you will tell me but I just needed you to hear it. Ok?” she turned away from him but not before he caught the slight look of disappointment. She didn’t look back.

Azriel stood there minutes after Gwyn had left, stunned. He had hurt her, he had let her down and the thought of ever doing that again left him hollow and with an urge to break something.

Subconsciously he felt his shadows begin to wrap and weave around him, folding Azriel into his own darkness.

He opened his eyes to find himself at the gates of rosehall. The house was in a corner of the night court where few lived. Outside the limits of velaris, but far from the horrors of the court of nightmares. Azriel’s mother loved it but he knew sometimes she felt suffocated from the simplicities of what life had become. His mother craved adventure and excitement, the domestic life was one she still wasn’t fond of.

Az hadn’t been planning a visit but might as well see his mother since he was here. He knocked on the gates, the magic recognizing his own, and opened.

She was sitting on a rocking chair, knitting and quietly humming to herself. She was only a few centuries older than himself but illness caused her to look much older.

She sighed not looking at him. “What did you do?”

“Can’t I just want to see my beautiful mother every once in a while?”

She rolled her eyes seeing through his bullshit. “You do see me, sometimes I think you’re here too often. So I ask again, what did you do?” Maybe it was magic, some gift, maybe it was just mother’s intuition but somehow she always knew.

He kissed her on the head and began to make way to the room he kept in the house. “The sickness is finally getting to you, you’re making things up.”

She snorted, “Hunny you’ll know the day this thing beats me but it sure as hell won’t win without a fight.”

“Of course mom.”

“It’s alright I’ll get it out of you eventually.” She winked at him as he winnowed to his room. Azriel heard her mumble “won’t even use the damn stairs anymore.” and he chuckled softly.

Within seconds Azriel collapsed on his bed, closing his eyes to ignore the tug he felt within him. He wasn’t running, he was doing what was best for Gwyn. That’s a lie, the subtle hiss sent shivers up his spine. Azriel shut his shadows out too. She didn’t need him and he didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t sleep, when he slept he was drowning in nightmares. For five days he cared for his mother, catching up on the occurrences of each other's lives. Azriel was careful to avoid Gwyn in his recaps. And every day he could tell his mother was growing more and more concerned. He desperately wanted to be with her, he could feel the pull in every inch of his body but Azriel had always been stubborn, so he stayed with the knowledge that what he was doing was the right thing.

He felt his mother watching him, studying him until finally, she spoke. “Az is this extended visit about that girl.” she paused trying to think. “The redhead? For the love of god this stupid illness, I can’t remember her name, Gwyn? Was it?”

Azriel’s eyes flitted away giving her confirmation her guess was right. His mother sighed, grabbed her cane, and began to stand. He got up to help her only to be met by a dagger-eyed glare that said you help me and I cut your arms off. She was several inches shorter than him but as his stubborn mother hobbled over to him, she held out an arm for him to take. He took it without hesitation but the question remained on his lips.

“We are going for a walk.” she beat him to it.

They walked in silence, ever so often her arm clutching his tightly as if she were about to fall. Memories flashed of his mother before she was sick. When she could not stay still for more than a moment, even centuries-old and still she had carried a youthfulness with her that could not be replicated.

As if she could read his thoughts she raised her eyebrows, “I’m fine.”

“I would never suggest you weren’t.” Although they both knew she wasn’t fine, denial was bliss for those with limited days. His mother studied Azriel as he looked around at the plethora of roses covering the entirety of the gate.

“I hate them.” she scrunched her nose in disgust at the bright flowers as Az snorted.

“Then why don’t you do something about them.”

“They were here before me and they will be here long after me, what right do I have to disrupt them from their home?” She paused. “To the displeasure of my eyes and nose, I will not be moving them.”

They continued their leisurely walk until they finally reached a well. It was a considerable distance outside the boundaries of what was her home. She began to fill up the bucket with water from the well. It was a slow process for his mother's stubbornness forbade him from helping her. When she was finished she grabbed the pail and walked away from him leaving Azriel behind.

“Wait-”

She turned to face him. “Close your mouth, my dear, you wouldn’t want to swallow a fly,” and kept walking.

“Are we not-” he fumbled for his words. “Going to talk about her.”

“Well, I came out here for some fresh water.” She looked at him innocently. “Would you like to talk about her?” His damned mother played him. Her gaze softened.

“I may be sick but I know how to get my son to talk to me even when his own stubbornness refuses.”

He sighed. “I will never doubt you again.”

She sat down on a bench a few feet from the well and motioned for him to join her. “Now tell me what happened.”

He was quiet for a second before he spoke. “Gwyn, she, she told me she loved me.”

“And do you love her back?”

Without hesitation, Azriel responded softly. “Yeah, I do.”

“Then why are you here with me and not with her.” Azriel looked away. “Is this female your mate?” He nodded. “And you’re in love with her?” He nodded once again. “The female you have been looking for your entire life wants to be with you and you ran away?”

Azriel ran his fingers through his hair. “It is more complicated than that.” “Why?”

“Because- because I don’t deserve her. Gwyn, she’s full of this light and she has a spirit unlike anyone I have ever met and I know that I cannot give her what she needs.”

His mother appeared speechless for a moment before bursting out into a fit of laughter. He scowled at her. “You men are fools.” It was Azriel’s turn to be speechless. “Listen to me, is she worth it?”

“God yes.”

“Then it is not your place to decide what she needs. I have never been one to sugar coat and I won’t start now, there is a chance that this may crash and burn. But you have to decide if the possibility of pain and rejection is worth letting yourself be happy. Gwyn is telling you that she wants to take the leap with you and that regardless of whatever you may think, she believes you are worth it.”

Azriel stared straight ahead as his mother spoke. But she forced him to look at her. “Azriel, it’s not selfish to want to be happy. And this female makes you happy.”

At that moment Azriel felt a lurch in his chest. A tug stronger than any he’s felt. It was intense, it was dizzying, it took over every one of his senses. “Gwyn. it’s Gwyn she needs me.”

His mother gave him an incredulous look. “Then what the hell are you doing here? Go to her.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Azriel didn’t think, he just let his shadows wrap around him and instinct took over.

He opened his eyes and looked around. His eyes caught a flash of red, he bolted and found Gwyn laying on the ground limp. She was bleeding. No No No. Too much blood. His heart was a drum in his chest. Azriel, as gently as he could, lifted her into his arms. There was an arrow sticking out of her chest, just barely missing her heart. ��gwyn. Gwyn. GWYN.” Finally, her eyes opened slowly. Her lips were purple and her skin was a sickly shade of white. He ripped off his own coat and wrapped it around her.

“Az” she croaked and let out a groan of pain. “It seems the Illyrians don’t like me very much.” She whispered each word a struggle to speak. Her eyes drifting closed.

“Shhh don’t speak don’t speak. Gwyn, my love, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

“Take it out.” she huffed.

“If I do that you’ll bleed out and I need you to live.” In his mind, Azriel screamed for Rhys. Over and over he thought the words. Gwyn’s bleeding out I can’t move her, we’re deep in Illyrian territory please come quick.

Seconds passed and it took every inch of concentration for Gwyn to keep her eyes open. Azriel watched her internal struggle, knew the feeling of being on the edge, how it would be so easy just to close your eyes. To rest.

“Please Gwyn” his voice broke. “I need you to- I need you.”

He just barely heard the words. “Why?”

“Because-” Azriel took a deep breath. “You make every moment better. Because I have lived 500 years and yet you still find ways to surprise me. Because I have never known what it meant to love and be loved as fiercely and absolutely as we love each other. You never gave up on me, not once, because you are stubborn and determined and I could walk this world for millennia more and I know without a doubt in my mind I could never find anyone like you. Even if you weren’t my mate they would never and could never compare to you.” He took another breath. “And I know that I hurt you but I need you to live to be mad at me, live to scream at me for all the things we both know I did wrong, live to hurt me as I hurt you, I don’t care just please Gwyn. I need you to live.”

“Say it.” Azriel laughed a shaky, desperate, nervous laugh.

“You idiot, I love you.” He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to hers, and held her close to him. Azriel had never been religious but in that moment he begged and pleaded and prayed to the mother, to the cauldron, to whoever was up there watching that this was not the end. This couldn’t be the end.

[writeforfandoms]

Merry Go Round of Life

Find my masterlist

Okay. This is a Howl’s Moving Castle AU. It’s going to be a mix of both the book and the movie because I adore both of them equally and for different reasons. 

Also, no Din yet in this chapter. Sorry not sorry. 

This will end up as Din Djarin x f!reader. At some point down the line.

Warnings: Uh. None? Light swearing maybe?

Chapter one: In which a curse is laid

In the land of Concordia, things such as three-league boots existed. Witches and wizards wandered the land. And, if rumors are to be believed, the moving castle has once again started coming down the hills towards Kalevala. 

But you weren’t worried. Nobody had actually seen the wizard out and about. Nobody even knew his name, or spoke it. He was only ever the wizard of the moving castle. And nobody had a satisfying explanation for that, either. You’d stopped asking about him years ago. 

You didn’t have time to be gossiping about some wizard, anyhow. Your mother-in-law was retired, and both of your sisters had their own lives, leaving the shop to you. Not that you really minded - you’d been raised in this shop, knew it better than anywhere else. You were content with this. Your sisters visited (indeed, Omera still worked in town, having taken over the bakery when the previous owners retired), the shop was busy enough to keep you busy and fed, and things were… calm. Predictable. 

But really, you couldn’t complain. You were the youngest of three. You didn’t boast great beauty to match Omera, or great temper to match Cara. You were just… you. One of the best seamstresses in town, yes, but just you. And that was fine. That was… fine. 

On this particular morning, you were humming a little as you carefully measured fabric for a dress. This was about the time of year when you were flooded with custom requests for parties and celebrations, and you often ended up taking your work home with you. You had some help in the shop, a young lady to man the front desk and chat with customers, but she was still in training. And you didn’t mind taking work home. 

You tutted gently as you set two pieces of fabric together, checking the edges. “Very good,” you muttered to yourself. “You’ll be a handsome one indeed.” Chuckling at your own humor, you began to stitch the edges together. It wasn’t uncommon to find you chattering to yourself (and your sewing) as you worked. You got bored otherwise. The shop girl stayed out front, and you stayed in the back sewing unless you were needed to take measurements or consult. 

It didn’t take long for you to have the skirt portion of the dress done. At least, done enough for now. You gently set it aside and stretched, rolling your shoulders and cracking your neck before you pulled the fabric over again to make the next cuts. 

“At least the fabric is nice,” you murmured, gently running a hand along the rose-pink fabric to smooth it. “You’ll make a fine dress for the May Day dance.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Your own dress (if you had time for it this year) was already squirreled away in your bedroom, and had been ready for a while. You’d made sure Omera was taken care of, too. Cara was on her own - you didn’t even know if she’d be home for the festival this year. 

You heard the bell over the door of the shop ring, but paid it no mind. Someone would yell if they needed you. Humming again, you picked up your sewing scissors, the nice heavy pair, and started cutting fabric. 

“Hey, Vee.” You could hear the customer from where you sat, but you still didn’t move. Did you sometimes listen to gossip while you worked? Sure. Not your fault they were gossiping in your hearing range. “Have you seen the castle?”

A gasp as your assistant, Vee, caught on to the subject. “No! I haven’t been out to the edge of town.”

“The castle is right out there!” the customer told her in an excited murmur. “You can see it clearly, just over the hill outside of town.”

“So close?” Vee asked in a hushed tone. “What’s he doing?”

“Don’t know,” the customer replied. “Mother thinks he’s looking for someone.”

You snorted very quietly to yourself. He was a wizard. You doubted anyone in Kalevala would hold any interest for someone like him. Not that you’d actually met many (or any) wizards but you’d read plenty about them. And this place? Probably didn’t have anybody of interest to an actual wizard.

“Maybe he’ll come to the festivities,” Vee said dreamily.

“Maybe,” the customer hummed, sounding unconvinced. On this, you sided with her - you doubted seriously the wizard would show up to May Day. Ha! That would be a sight. 

“Silly girls, the both of them,” you murmured to the dress. “But they’re young, I suppose they’re allowed to be silly.” 

It wasn’t long after that when the customer left, and Vee went back to her tasks. You shook your head and refocused on your sewing. If you weren’t interrupted, you could have this dress done in another day. 

Vee left at her normal time, and you closed up the shop. Nobody else had interrupted you, and you let out a sigh of relief once things were locked up tight. You worked for another hour or so by candlelight in the shop, and then carried a couple little things upstairs to work on in your apartment. Your apartment wasn’t much - a bedroom, kitchen/living area combo, and simple bathroom situated above the shop. But it was yours, and you didn’t have to share with anyone.

As much as you loved your sisters, you had been more than ready to strangle them by the time they moved out. 

A glance at the calendar on the wall showed that you had exactly one week left until May Day. Plenty of time to finish the last two dresses, and any last-minute adjustments that came in. You stretched briefly and ambled into the kitchen to make some dinner. 

The week passed as expected. You got your last two gowns done. You fixed and rehemmed and tweaked dresses for other customers. You even dealt with the one near-hysterical woman who came in the day before May Day a wreck because her toddler had ripped off some of the fabric roses on her dress. (That one was not an easy fix, and you gently scolded the dress for giving in to some toddler.) 

May Day was always one of the biggest celebrations of the year, full of flowers and bright colors. You donned your dress, the “closed” sign already hung up in the shop window, and ventured out into the streets. 

Things got more crowded the closer you got to the center of town, and soon you were dodging folks out making merry. You didn’t stop to join any of them, intent on your goal: your sister’s bakery. You’d been craving one of the cream cakes for weeks, and you were determined to get one. 

A group of well-dressed young men stumbled out of a tavern in front of you, and one of them made a teasing comment that you only half paid attention to. You simply looked at him and then away, dismissing him and striding on. Honestly. Boys. 

Finally, you made it to the bakery and (more or less) gently pushed your way inside. Omera was at the counter, handling payments and handing over cakes as fast as she could. She paused for a moment when she saw you before she smiled widely and called your name.

“Do you have a minute?” you shouted back at her over the dull roar inside the shop.

“I can spare one,” she replied, ushering you along the counter until she could lift up a flap for you. Grabbing your hand, she pulled you into the back of the bakery, nabbing a cream cake with her free hand. 

“How many proposals have you had today?” you asked, teasing her gently. She was beautiful, and widowed a few years ago. 

“I stopped counting after five,” she replied primly. “Sit and eat that.”

Grinning, you took the cake and sat down. “The dress looks good on you.”

“You knew it would.” She obligingly twirled for you though, showing off the whole thing. You nodded to yourself. Some of your finest work, probably. You’d be disappointed if the day ended without Omera receiving at least a dozen proposals. “Your dress is a little more plain this year, sister.”

“Hmm.” You stuffed a bite of cake in your mouth to buy yourself a little time. Which might have backfired on you, as Omera raised an eyebrow at you. You grimaced, just a little, and she huffed.

“Are you content to run the shop alone, then?”

“Maybe,” you muttered. “I don’t know. I haven’t--it hasn’t come up, recently.” You shuffled a little where you sat, uncomfortable now. 

Omera softened a little. “You could have just as many proposals, if you wanted,” she reminded you, reaching over to tweak your ear gently. “You needn’t stay at the shop by yourself.” Her smile turned teasing. “I’d even take you on as an apprentice.”

“Apprentice!” you shot back, mock-outraged. “I have spent more than enough time in your kitchen to do better than that!”

“I seem to recall someone eating all the cookie batter one day and getting sick,” she shot back. The two of you collapsed into giggles for a few moments, until someone shouted for Omera. Then she sighed. “That would be the end of my break. I’ll come see you at the shop, okay?”

“Sure,” you agreed, standing and pulling her into a hug.

“Just think about it,” she whispered in your ear. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

You released her and made your way out of the bakery. More revellers filled the streets now, and your feet were trod on more than once as you made your way back home slowly. As night fell, bright blue and green fireworks shot into the air from outside of town, causing a great deal of commotion. Certainly they came from the wizard, but why nobody knew. You didn’t bother yourself overmuch with pondering, either. 

The week after May Day continued quietly. This was to be expected - hardly anyone would need anything except minor alterations and repairs so soon after a holiday. You’d given Vee two weeks off to spend with her family and her intended, and so you were stuck manning the store instead. 

The bell over the door tinkled and you looked up from a pair of socks you were repairing, and then paused. The woman who walked in was… odd. Very, very odd. For one thing, she was carrying a helmet propped against her hip, and she wore armor in blue and gray. Her hair was red and short, pulled back from her face. Her clothing under the armor was dark and nondescript - trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, essentially. 

You blinked at her, nonplussed for a moment, and then stood up straight behind the counter. “Can I help you?” 

“That remains to be seen.” She stepped closer to the counter, giving you a quick once-over. “You are the seamstress who made the dress for the baker? Omera, I believe her name is.”

You blinked again. “Yes.” It wasn’t unheard of for customers to refer to your other work, but it wasn’t exactly common, either.

She hummed acknowledgement of that and looked you over again. You had no idea what she was looking for, but she must not have found it, because she gave you a rather derisive look. “You’ll do.” She murmured something too low for you to hear, although it didn’t sound like Common to your ears, and flung one hand towards you, as if flinging water at you. Something cold dripped down your scalp, and you blinked rapidly at a feeling almost like vertigo. “There. That ought to do it.” She turned away sharply, and paused just before the door. “You won’t be able to tell anyone you’re under a curse, in case you were wondering.” And with that she was gone, out of the shop as quickly as she’d entered it.

[old-hyper-super-clover]

For the requests‚ what about a family trip to the beach with Purgatory Hall + the royals and MC? Like Simeon and Barbatos setting up a picnic table meanwhile MC and Luke play around in the sand searching for shiny or strange things to building a sand castle (everything also keeping Solomon and Diavolo far from the preparations for the picnic)‚ playing with water guns or swimming. And after eating maybe playing a match of volleyball sand, admiring the sunset till it's nigth time and before going back‚ playing with fireworks, do a little stargazing or something--

Feel free to ignore this and thanks in advance anyway~

FINALLY I've come to write something for this lovely request. It's packed with so many fun ideas that I kinda went overboard with it xD this means the story is so big I'll have to split it into two posts!

To Bisshitu: I wanted to thank you for your continuous support! I see you in my notifs a lot and I really appreciate it!! (ALSO I AM SO SORRY YOU'VE WAITED SO LONG I HOPE YOU WILL STILL ENJOY THIS CHAOS)

Literally just 13 idiots on a beach trip~

Part 1

MC was leaning against one of the walls in the giant entrance halls of the House of Lamentation. Standing next to them, Solomon handed MC an opened bag of spicy newt chips. "Want some?" He asked and MC gladly took a few while constantly watching the commotion that was going on in the rest of the hallway.

Who would've guessed that going on a vacation with the seven rulers of hell would involve the most panicked, loud and chaotic packing of bags to have ever existed?

Well, let's be real, MC did expect it, but maybe not to the degree that they were in amusement about now.

The oldest brother had called the others for a "luggage check" as he had been sceptical of his brothers' talents in packing reasonable items in an, likewise reasonable, amount of suitcases and bags.

And of course, the first one to show up had to present his luggage in the form of... nothing.

Yes, Beelzebub came up to Lucifer, only the remains of a sandwich in his hand (which didn't last longer than three more seconds), confused when Lucifer mustered him with an angered glance.

"Where's your luggage?" Lucifer asked, to which Beel only gave a shrug.

"We're going to the beach, right? Which means I'll only need my swimming trunks, and I wear those underneath my pants."

Now the confusion has wandered over to rest on Lucifer's face. "But... Won't you need clothes to change into, or at least pyjamas for the night?"

"Hm..." Beel scratched the back of his head while thinking about Lucifer's words. "Nah, I don't need those. I'm planning to stay at the beach all the time, so..." Then suddenly, he gasped as he remembered something. "Wait, I do have something else prepared to bring along!"

Beel reached into his pocket, and when he pulled out a hand-written list that unrolled itself, plonking onto the carpet and rolling all the way to Lucifer's feet, the avatar of Pride knew exactly what said list was going to be.

"There are a few food stands that I'd like to try out..." Beel announced, eyeing the paper. "First of all, there's one selling shaved ice, which I want to compare to the ice-cream from this other stand, but who's also selling parfaits of which I kind of want to try all twenty-five flavours... Also then there's of course-"

"Beel" Lucifer interrupted the avatar of Gluttony in a strict tone. "Go pack a proper bag."

"But-"

"Now."

Letting out a sigh, Lucifer watched as Beel left.

But little did he know, this had only been the beginning of the chaos...

Moments later, Lucifer has found himself explaining to Satan why taking 70 different books with him would be ridiculously much. Also Mammon had taken this opportunity to "lend" some of his brothers possessions, arguing that he "needed those for the beach". This had worked until his swift fingers touched Levi's limited edition Ruri-chan sunscreen.

So, as Lucifer was spam-calling Belphie to wake him up and finally have him start packing, a sudden argument could be heard from upstairs:

"... How dare you steal my precious Hana Ruri 'magical sun ray protective lotion for all blooming heroes of justice'?! This very sunscreen is an homage to the legendary beach episode where Azuki-tan got a sunburn and couldn't help Ruri-chan in the intense battle against the evil kelp-army that was threatening to overgrow the local reef-"

"OKAY OKAY, HERE'S YOUR STUPID CREAM NOW LEAVE ME ALONE"

"S-STUPID CREAM?!?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW PRECIOUS THIS ITEM IS TO A FAN LIKE-"

That was all Lucifer could understand as an awfully annoyed scream Mammon let out was drowning Levi's gibberish. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Lucifer knew this vacation was going to be one intense experience...

An hour later, the group found itself where this little story had started off. The Purgatory Hall crew had already arrived long ago, enjoying the chaos together with MC -- who, btw, had been the only one to pass Lucifer's vibe luggage check right away.

Slowly it felt like most of the brothers were ready to go, only Asmodeus was left in the judgemental glare of the avatar of Pride.

But Lucifer noticed they already were way behind the time they were supposed to meet Diavolo at his castle. So, to Asmo's luck, he let off of trying to see what's inside the pretty boy's suitcase and announced the group's departure.

In enthusiasm shared by almost everyone, they let out a big cheer:

"Off to the beach we go!"

Some of the demons had whined about wanting to visit the human world beach. But as those idiot boys literally couldn't be trusted to act responsibly (which is okay, we love them regardless), Diavolo offered to stay at the beach resort he created in the Devildom.

Looking over the endless ocean, surrounded by the equally large beach and glistening in an artificial sun's light, MC was wondering just how powerful the demon prince must be to have created all this. But they were left only little time to be in awe over the location, as their friends demanded their attention shortly after having arrived.

Without going into much detail -- the day was packed with lots and lots of fun. MC was running around the beach, playing and goofing around with their friends, only to take a collective rest and then go do something silly again. Only a few other demons were to be found at the resort, but those were some acquaintances of Diavolo's family, and the group seemed to have scared them off of the beach after, like, an hour or so. Hence, the whole beach served as their playground for whatever activity they wanted to do, until in the afternoon, most of them were about to collapse from exhaustion and hunger.

"That's right, we didn't really have a proper meal since coming here" Asmo noticed as several tummy grumbles undermined his statement.

"We DID bring a picnic basket..." Satan mumbled. "But some genius had to let Beel carry it."

The culprit gave an immediate pout. "I had to hurry, 'kay?!" Mammon huffed. "MC was already at the beach and I--" he stopped. "... U-uh... I mean..."

Gaining a round of sighs and shaking heads, his brothers however decided to let Mammon's... mammon-ness slide for once. Mostly because, approaching from the distance, Barbatos and Solomon were getting closer, their hands full with bags that seemed to be stuffed with food.

"Y-yoU BroUGhT S-nAcKs?!" Beelzebub was already on his feet running towards them but Barbatos' stare was actually enough to make him stop.

"Not before the dishes are prepared, Beelzebub" Barbatos explained calmly, but with this very weird hidden tone in his voice that gave everyone chills despite the scorching summer heat.

"We figured everyone must be starving by now, so Barbatos suggested we'd make a little picnic party with everyone" Solomon cheered, presenting the bags in his hands.

"That sounds lovely" Simeon could be heard among the general noise of approval. "Let me help you prepare everything, Barbatos."

The demon butler beamed him a smile, thanking the angel for his help.

Then, Solomon spoke up again, and every bit of joy vanished from all their faces: "Thank you, Simeon! With the three of us working together the food will be ready in no time!"

--------------

Barbatos was putting all kinds of spices into a bowl to create a delicious sauce. Right next to him, Simeon prepared mouth-watering sandwiches.

And behind their back, there was this chopping sound. Chop reaching their chop ears in an chop never- chop ending thread, over and chop over again...

Swallowing his tension, Simeon was fighting a frown. "He's only cutting the fruits..." He whispered. "You shouldn't be able to mess up a fruit salad..."

"I know" Barbatos mumbled back. "However I cannot fight this unease that urges me to check if he's really-" He was interrupted by a very unsettling "oops" coming from that certain sorcerer at the cutting board.

In honestly quicker than the blink of an eye Simeon and Barbatos were at Solomon's side, frantically scanning the table for whatever Solomon must've messed up. When all they found were slices of fruit that, well, might have been chopped a bit wonky, they gave Solomon a confused stare.

"I cut off too much of this poor Hellberry's pull" Solomon explained. "Oh well, I'll just cut around the stem and add it to the fruit salad like this."

Both Barbatos and Simeon couldn't help but stare for a moment longer, their brains not really comprehending NOT finding an abomination in Solomon's cooking.

"Can I help you two with anything?" The sorcerer then asked.

"U-uhm, no..." Simeon mumbled. "It's all fine, we just..."

"We wanted to see if there's anything we can help you with" Barbatos jumped in to continue.

"Thanks, but I'm fine. Actually I'm almost finished, so maybe I can help one of you afterw-"

"Nononononono...!" Simeon almost whined. "I-its fine! We're actually almost finished ourselves, so..."

Solomon looked back, raising an eyebrow. "Doesn't look like it to me..."

Suddenly, another voice joined the group.

"I agree! You two are likely just being humble again" Diavolo had walked up to their working station a moment ago, but neither of them seemed to have noticed in their stress. The prince continued: "That's why I decided to lend you a hand as well. This is a vacation for all of us, so I should not burden my loyal butler with all the work."

"That's a commendable attitude for royalty like yourself" Solomon cheered. "Well then, I think Simeon and Barbatos could use a hand."

Diavolo was already squeezing his quite broad body into the tiny cooking space, this certain over-excited sparkle in his eyes as he mustered the food.

Barbatos and Simeon on the other hand were exchanging glances, so immensely stressed that their thoughts were almost audible:

'Barbatos I don't think I can handle any more of this stress' Simeon stared.

'We shouldn't have let Solomon help in the first place, our kindness was foolish' Barbatos stared back.

'What do we do now Barbatos this is the only food we have left, they cannot ruin it'

Thankfully, the perfect butler was not planning to let their "help" threaten the food for any longer. "Young master, I highly appreciate that you thought of my well-being. Which is why I indeed have a request for you and Solomon."

Simeon almost barged in on a frightened impulse, but Barbatos continued before anyone could raise their voice. "There is dessert stored in our hotel's main storage. Would you be so kind and bring enough for our whole group?"

A little surprised, Diavolo agreed. He waited for Solomon to finish cutting the fruits, then they went off to the hotel.

Finally able to catch a breath, Simeon shot Barbatos a last glance. "That was easier than expected. Why didn't we let Solomon bring the desserts earlier?"

Back to mixing spices, Barbatos didn't look up at the question. "What desserts?" He simply asked.

"... Uhm..." Simeon was quite startled. "Are there... Are there no desserts in the storage room...?"

"Oh, I sure hope there are" Barbatos said. "Otherwise I will have some explaining to do..."

-------------

(To be continued...)

Find my summer event Masterlist and Rules for the requests here <3

[plush-rabbit]

An Indulgence for the Night

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Compress stans have finally been fed and I want comfort (I also wanna get a feel for him)

Atsuhiro lays in bed, a thick comforter on his body that traps heat and feels as if it weighs more than the world itself. His body is tired, exhausted beyond belief with eyes that droop and vision that grows hazy the longer he stays awake. And yet, he can’t force himself to fall asleep- no matter how long his eyes stay closed, they only reopen and he has to bite back a groan to keep you from waking up. 

It’s silent. The electricity that hums in the walls do nothing to calm him down, they make him wary and they’re too loud for him to concentrate on anything. Outside, nothing moves. The trees stand still, not a car flashes by with its headlights, there’s no squealing of tires that fill the night in a godforsaken screech- the world is on pause and he is unable to sleep because of it. 

He’s thought about waking you up, to seek a bit of comfort from you in hopes that it would lull him to sleep but you also need your rest- you’ve been out and about for so long and you’re tired- he won’t ruin your sleep just because his body and mind have decided to fight against each other. He’ll stay in the soft bed, grow warm and have muscles that ache to be stretched until sleep does finally consume him. He’s a grown man- he can handle a bit of restlessness. Even if it means doing it alone. 

The patience lasts for five minutes before he’s removed the too heavy blanket from his body and stretched his legs out in front of him. His hand drags down his face and he’s biting the bottom of his lip as the pink under his eyes leaks for a quick second. He shakes his head and binches the bridge of his nose, nails pressing into the thin skin and tosses his legs over the bed, leaning forward and holding onto the residual limb with a soft groan. His feet- decorated in geometrical print socks with neon colors that you once gave him- press flat against the floor and he paces around the room. He’s aware of what he's doing. You may be a sound sleeper, but with enough noise, you’re bound to wake up. He feels a tad guilty, lips pulled into a frown but he thinks this is better than shaking you awake. At least this way he can pretend that he didn’t mean to wake you up. He’s alway been a great pretender. 

His steps are dulled by the socks, the floors are new so they hardly creak under his weight and there’s a higher chance that he’s going to wake up the people below rather than you. His arm is beginning to ache- a dull pain that isn’t as strong as it once was and his movements are getting sluggish. Perhaps he'll fall asleep with the pacing before you even have a chance to wake up. It was selfish of him to do so anyways- he could have just held you by his side, it’s always been enough to make him grow at least a bit drowsy, to feel himself relax in your arms as you stroked his hair around your index. He just wanted an excuse to not be alone tonight. To not let the silence drown him. 

He stops midway, shoulder slumped forward and head in an acute angle, eyes that close and he can feel his body sway, and he’s sure that if he stays in this position, he’ll end up falling asleep but he’s also positive that if he were to move, he’d disturb the sleep that has begun to creep into his mind. There’s no real reason why he can’t fall asleep, no nightmares that threaten to reveal themselves once he’s vulnerable, no churning in his gut that warns him that something bad might be approaching; there are no worries that keep him awake. He is with you, he is in bed with you, your body draped in a shirt of his, nestled under the blanket where he should be and you both are safe- you’re alive and unharmed. There really is no reason for him to be awake. 

With a heavy head that has begun to ache, he walks back into bed, and lays above the covers, right arm near your body as his hand dances over the space between you and him and under the covers, he grabs your hand, running his thumb over the knuckles, dipping in the small spaces and there’s a tugging feeling gnawing at his chest, telling him to shake you awake and deal with the consequences later as he just wakes you up. There’s no reason to do it- the anxiety is at bay, and he supposes he’s just restive- he just needs something to quell the silence and fill it even if it’s your voice in a hushed manner. He wants to call you name and his mouth opens, turning his head to look at you and your sleeping expression that is content and he can’t bring himself to. You’re content and you indulge him enough with his own wishes- you at least deserve sleep that remains undisturbed. 

His hand lets go and even under the blanket, it isn’t as warm as it was. He reaches over and presses his lips against your temple, tilting his head until his nose is pressed against you in a soft tap. His breath fans across your face, a shuddering breath that leaves him feeling shaky and even as his body grows weary, he tilts his head, lips pressing against your sleeping face, and your brow twitches, aware of his movements and he can’t stop the soft kisses that cover your face. He kisses at your brow, shushing the little twitch and pecks under your eye, feeling your lashes brush against him in a butterfly kiss. He peppers you in kisses, leaving your face marked by his love, feverish and pressing deeper the more he continues, feverish as he breaths against your lips, eyes shut tight until color blooms. He shudders when he feels your breath and lets out a low whine when you brush against him, leg kicking out softly to touch at his. He’s sure that if he were to kiss you again, to let his lips brush against your skin or have his nose swipe against yours, you’d awake and you’d welcome him into your arms.

Atsuhiro remains still, eyes closed and breath heavy and deep, and he’s sure that sleep is just a touch away, that he can rest against you for a moment- for the night until sleep catches him in their clutches but the he hears you yawns, a soft whimper that starts in the back of your throat and he opens his eyes to watch as you roll on your back and curve over the bed, eyes shut tight until you drop unceremoniously onto the bed. You blink once. Then twice. And you turn your head to face him.

“Well hello, you,” you say in a weak voice, a hand coming up to rub at an eye that is still bleary with sleep.

“Did I wake you up?” He asks, smiling as you narrow your eyes in a playful manner.

“I don’t know-” a yawn interrupts you and makes your words so hollow- “were you trying to?” With another yawn you roll back to face him, inching closer to him with the blanket pulled tight in your hands.

“Would you like the truth or a lie?” His voice is hushed, lowered into a whisper as the sleep that he desperately craved, slips past him in wisps.

You hum and bury yourself deeper into the bed, raising the blanket so he could join you. He gladly takes the invitation and comes to rest near you, resting on his arm and raising a brow as he waits for your answer. “Humor me.” Your smile is coy, teasing as you lean up and brush your nose against him in a small kiss.

“Ah!” His smile brightens, immediately closing his mouth until his smile is stretched across his face. “That,” he says in a quiet voice, “I can do, my dear.” He legs jerks against you, knee pressed against yours, until he bends his leg and pushes himself against the softness of your thighs. “I’m always here to entertain, of course.”

You roll your eyes and he can feel his heart quicken. Every smile of yours turns him into someone who he once was as a child- someone who blushes furiously at the sign of attention from someone attractive, whose heart skips a beat when his hands meet yours and words start to slur and stutter until he can do nothing more than smile sheepishly at you. He’ll hold his hat in hand, fiddle with the brim and speak through the mask, face growing hot under and for once, he wished that he could drop the theatrics but you always stayed close to him, pecking him through the mask and letting you hands play with the edges as you held him. You gave him the chance to reveal himself to you, something intimate that left him teary eyed and looking away as if he were sharing something forbidden with you. He let you see all of him- to indulge you in moments that felt so intimate that he was sure his heart was going to stop, to collapse as you took his face in your hands and held him tenderly.

“Well,” he starts off slow, voice below a whisper in a gentle tone, “if I have to be honest- which I will be-” he winks at you and he takes great delight in your chuckle- “I just couldn’t sleep.” His eyes lower and focus on how your lips pout and open. “Nothing bad- just restless, I suppose.” 

You snort and he looks up at you, a silent warning as he raises his brows, lips curling into a lopsided smile. “You- restless? Well, color me surprised.” Your hand reaches under the covers and cups his face and he lets his close in a flutter. “And how long did it take for you to wake me up?”

He smiles and shakes his head softly. “I’ll have you know, I lasted much longer this time.” He opens his eyes and meets yours for a second before turning his head and pressing his nose against your palm. “I even paced around the room,” he mumbles into your hand, pressing a gentle kiss against the lines that decorate your palm.

“Oh you poor baby,” you pout, tapping your fingers against his face. He smiles against you and shakes his head.

 He takes a deep breath. “Alas, that’s how it is.” He pulls away from your hand. “I did want to wake you up,” he confesses, ears burning in shame. “I paced to get your attention. Kissed your face in your sleep and wished that you would wake up.” He can’t meet your eyes, keeps them focused on the thin line that your lips have formed into. “I-” he sighs and closes his eyes, letting the word hang in the air.

Your thumb strokes his cheekbone and the space between his brows knit together. He wants to open his eyes but he’s unable to face you without feeling a tad of shame. He lets out a shuddering breath when your hands slide down his face, and thumb presses in the middle of his lips, dragging down until they part and he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, swallowing nervously. In his chest, his heart pounds against him, painful and heavy, longing and yearning to kiss at your lips and let himself indulge in your touch for the moments that he is awake. He lets out a soft moan, letting his eyes close and lips remain parted when you run your hand through his hair, curving over the side of his head and feeling at the soft curls that decorate his head.

“You know, you can always wake me up when you’re restless,” you mutter, your fingers binding and scratching lightly at his head. “I don’t mind-” your motions are soft and controlled and he sighs in relief when you go to cup his face again- “not when it’s you, Atsu.”

He smiles softly, eyes closed and nods. “If I have to be honest, I think I’m finally starting to grow weary.” He opens his eyes only to shut them once a yawn pulls his mouth open and tears prick at his eyes. “Thank you.” He bows his head and inches himself close to you, leaning in to close the gap between the two of you. “I appreciate it very much.”

“I know you’d do the same. Because that’s who you are,” you reply, closing the gap.

And he would. He’d stay up for hours if it meant that you wouldn’t be alone. He’d do whatever you wanted if it meant that you would smile. He wants nothing more than to see you happy and right now as you kiss him and pull away to pepper kisses down his neck and against the lobe of his ear. Atsuhiro would cherish his moments with you, to keep himself against you and welcome your touch and return it eagerly as he felt you smile. You hold him with softness that can never be replicated, cusped in your hands and fingers threaded through his hair as he whines under your touch, letting out a breathless laugh. He’s grateful to have you here, pressed against him and mumbling good night to him as you push him onto his back and drape yourself on his chest, your hand drawing loose shapes on his chest that he is too tired to make out and he lets his eyes close as your hand falls flat against him, curling and pulling on his chest and he’s glad he got to kiss you before he fell asleep.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hello omg, can I request Sasha with a warrior S/O? Like reader came with Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt on their mission and during Reiner and Bertholdt’s reveal, she reveals herself too? UAUAUA it can be angst or whatever you prefer 🥺❤️

I gave the reader the Warhammer titan btw cause it’s my favorite akdkakfkd

Also, it’s a little long, but that’s just ‘cause I wrote out the whole warrior reveal in word form, and it’s longer than I remember lol

With You

(Sasha Braus x Reader)

AU: Canon, slightly divergent

Warnings: Gore/graphic description of injury, season 3 spoilers, slight season 4 spoilers

Genre: Angst

Summary: Following the battle at Utgard castle, Reiner stops to have a chat with Eren, and reveals that he, Bertholdt, and Sasha’s s/o are all titan shifters, right in front of Sasha.

Words: 3.9K

-------

You had no time to process what had happened. Ymir was a titan, Christa was Historia, and Zeke has finally made his appearance.

You sighed and leaned against the rope tethers of the pulley system, regaining your bearings on the platform as you were pulled up and over the wall. The battle of Utgard castle had been tough—and many secrets were uncovered.

So, Ymir was the titan that ate Marcel all those years ago... You recounted in your head, sighing as you held your face in your palms. And now Zeke is here. We must’ve been too long without any sign of progress. We’re in big trouble. If we get back without Annie and Eren, it’ll be all over for us. Magath is gonna—

“Y/n!” A cheery voice brought you out of your slump, and you looked over your shoulder to see Sasha standing behind you, an arm outstretched as an offering of help.

You smiled at the sight of your girlfriend, and you slowly rose from your spot on the makeshift elevator, taking her hand and pulling yourself up onto the wall. “Thanks, Sasha.”

As soon as you stood up straight, Sasha lunged at you and wrapped her arms around your shoulders, lifting her feet off of the ground as you leaned all of her body weight onto you.

“I’m so glad you’re okay...! I was so worried!” She buried her face in your neck as she spoke, and you wrapped your arms around her lower back, putting your hands on her butt as support so she could wrap her legs around your waist.

You giggled at her, cuddling closer into her embrace. “I’m alright, I’m okay. There’s no need to worry.”

“I know, but I heard that you and your squad got held up at Utgard castle overnight in the middle of a titan horde, and when we finally got there and saw the tower collapsed, I was so scared! I... I—!” She cried into your neck as you moved a hand to rub small circles on her back.

“I know, I know, but we’re okay now. We had a bit of...” You glanced to the left. Ymir lay unconscious and steaming in the stretcher, a distressed Historia leaning over her and brushing strands of brown locks out of her face. “Unexpected help.”

“Mhm...” She mumbled, leaning into you for support. You stayed like this in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s presence after so long of being separated.

“Hey, lovebirds!” A loud shout caught your attention, and both you and Sasha turned to the source; Connie. “Save that stuff for the dorms! We still have stuff to do!”

“Right...” Sasha muttered, climbing off of you and running towards Connie, helping him haul terrified soldiers over the wall.

You stared in admiration for only a brief moment before your attention turned to your comrades, Reiner and Bertholdt. Reiner’s arm was wrapped up in the torn cloth of Historia’s skirt, and Bertholdt was close by, the two of them standing in a solemn, heavy silence.

You approached them quietly, taking a seat next to Reiner. Neither of you said anything. The sudden appearance of the beast titan, or rather, Zeke, had shaken you all. You had been gone for years, and gave no sign of retrieving the Founding Titan. Not only that, but you had lost Marcel and Annie. No matter what, the situation wasn’t going to end smoothly for you three.

To the right, many of the Scouts had gathered around a blonde Garrison soldier. Hannes—his name popped into your mind, as Eren had mentioned him before, while in the 104th. He seemed to be disclosing something to the others, and they looked on with mixed expressions.

“Do you think this has something to do with Zeke?” You questioned. Reiner kept his face buried in his palm, and Bertholdt turned to you with a sigh.

“Most likely.” The tall man answered. “I mean, we saw him. He’s clearly here. He must be doing something with his spinal fluid. Speeding up the process, perhaps.” He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in anxiety, eyes wide. “We’re in deep shit.”

You didn’t respond to him verbally, offering only a huff in solemn agreement.

The group of soldiers disbanded, though many branched of into separate conversations of worry, wonder, and resentment. As they walked off, Reiner stood up suddenly, eyes still fixated on the ground.

“Eren.” He called out, drawing the attention of the shorter man. “We should talk. You got a moment?”

“Sure, I guess.” He sighed, walking over. You and Bertholdt shared confused and concerned looks. The two of you had long noticed that Reiner had gone a bit off the deep end since arriving at Paradis, so you were wary of what he might say or do next.

“Five years ago, we compromised Wall Maria and launched an attack on humanity.” He spoke, turning his back to Eren, hanging his head in defeat. You looked at Bertholdt, and he mirrored your emotion. Panic.

“I’m the Armored Titan. He’s the Colossal.” He pointed his thumb in your direction when he spoke. “And she’s the Warhammer.”

“What are you talking about? Why are you telling him?” Bertholdt chocked out quietly.

“Reiner!” You whispered sharply, venom dripping from your tone. The three of you had done such a careful job keeping your identities secret from the others, and Reiner just spilled all of it. There was no going back from this.

“We were on a mission.” He continued.

“Stop!” Bertholdt pleaded, but Reiner didn’t waver.

“Our goal was to ensure mankind’s extinction. But now, there’s no need for that. Eren,” He turned to face the shocked and confused boy to his side. “If you want the walls to remain standing, it’s simple. Just come with Bertholdt, Y/n, and me. Do you understand?”

A good look to your left proved that he did not, in fact, understand.

“Understand? What the hell is there to understand?!” He shouted, drawing the attention of a few soldiers. Mikasa stood protectively a short distance away, and Sasha, with her impeccable hearing, turned to face the scene as well. The two of you made eye contact, and your distress must have been evident even at such a distance, because her eyes widened, and she started to make her way over with concern and confusion.

“Listen to me.” To your and Bertholdt’s horror, Reiner kept speaking. “I need you to do exactly as I say. Look, I know this is sudden, but we have to go.”

“Right now?” He exclaimed. “Where would you take me?”

“I can’t tell you. Not yet.” Internally, you started to collect yourself. This wasn’t ending quietly. Bloodshed was dreadfully immanent. “Just think of it as our hometown.” Your eyes widened. He’s just gonna ask Eren? You thought, astounded. After all this, he really thinks Eren is just gonna follow us? What is he thinking?!

“Okay? So what’s it gonna be? Not a bad deal, right? The chance to avert a major crisis?”

“I’m not so sure...” He muttered. You were surprised he didn’t have a stronger reaction, especially for someone as fiery as him. Perhaps he was still in shock, or denial. Either way, they were teetering on the edge of battle, even if you and Bertholdt were the only ones to sense it.

“You guys!” Armin shouted, waving to capture the attention of you, Bertholdt, Reiner, and Eren. “Get a move on, we’re heading out!” Despite that, Sasha pushed right past him, closing in to the conversation, standing still now that she was in earshot. Mikasa was to her left, watching Eren with a dangerously protection glare.

Eren closed his eyes, taking in a deep sigh. It felt as if, for a moment, the world stood still. Damn it, he thought, I didn’t want to believe it...

A distant memory flashed through his head. When Annie had been found out, they had discussed the possibility of Reiner, Bertholdt, and Y/n also being shifters, but they didn’t have proof. Was it really so simple, though?

He opened his eyes and placed a firm hand on Reiner’s shoulder. “You’re just tired. That’s it, right? Help me out here Bertholdt, Y/n. Your nerves are shot. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“U-Uh, yeah.” Bertholdt fumbled. “It’s the battle fatigue talking!”

“Yeah!” You reaffirmed, luckily being able to exude more confidence than Bertholdt. “You’re just tired. After everything that just happened, I can’t blame you.” You laughed nervously, praying no one saw through your bluff.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Between your bluff, and his shock, Eren took the bait. “If you really were the Armored Titan, what’s the endgame here? We wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place. What’d you expect me to do? Say yes? Let myself be kidnapped just ‘cause you asked politely?” Somehow, you found yourself agreeing with Eren on that last one.

Despite Eren’s nonchalant response, a dead silence overtook the air, and Sasha found it as her cue to step forward.

“Y/n? What’s going on here?” She placed a hand on your shoulder, but as soon as she did, you looked back. She gasped at the sight. You looked petrified.

“Right. Not thinking straight, am I?” He finally gave up his ploy, wide-eyed and sweating bullets. “Barely know what I’m saying here. Must’ve gone off the deep end.”

Eren turned his back to the three of you. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Deafening silence and still air ensued. You did not move. The clouds cleared, and rays of sun shone down on the stone beneath your feet.

“That’s the problem.” Reiner shook. He chuckled, and shadows covered his face. You’d never seen him like this before.

“I’ve been here too long for my own good. Three years of this madness, surrounded by idiots. We were kids. What’d we know about anything?”

You couldn’t help but agree with Reiner on that one. You didn’t want to become a warrior, none of you did. If you knew the atrocities you had to commit in order to have the essence of a warrior, the idea would’ve never crossed your mind.

“Why did there have to be people like this.” He choked, tears pricking his eyes and mouth spread into a wide, ugly frown. “Why? Why did I let myself devolve into such a half-assed piece of shit?”

“It’s too late now.” He lifted his arm out of the cast makeshift cast, and held his arm up, showing the red and bloody bite mark. “Damned if I know what’s right anymore! Who cares? It is what it is. No choice but to face what I’ve done! As a warrior.”

His arm steamed, and shortly after, the skin closed up, blood drying and appearing as if he’d never been injured from the get-go.

“No road left but the one that leads to the end!” He screamed. Eren’s eyes widened as he gasped. He finally understood.

“Reiner! Right now? Here?” Bertholdt yelled back, prepared for anything, despite the beads of sweat that rolled down his face.

“We’re really doing this?!” You echoed, and Sasha looked on with a horrified expression.

“Yes. Right here, right now!” He commanded, marching towards Eren. “We settle this once and for all!”

Mikasa appeared out of nothing in a fraction of second, blades drawn and mind set on murder. She swung her blade at Reiner, who put up his hand defensively as the blade split his hand in half from his fingers all the way to his wrist. She spun around in an instant, and her blade cleanly slashed right across Bertholdt’s neck, who fell to the ground screaming and holding his throat.

He eyes were set on you, and an underhanded swing of her blade slashed a line right across your face. Blood immediately clouded your vision, and you groaned in pain as you were sure you had lost an eye.

She charged at you, determined to finish the job, but her sprint was interrupted by Sasha, who tackled Mikasa at full force, and the sword tumbled out of her grasp as Sasha pinned her down.

“Sasha!” She struggled. “Sasha, move! What are you doing?!” She tried to get up, but Sasha managed to overpower her momentarily, keeping her firmly on the ground.

“MIKASA STOP! PLEASE!” She pleaded at the top of her lungs. Rationally, she knew you were the enemy now, but she’d be damned if she let you die here, after everything the two of you had been through.

“Sasha, you can’t—!”

“I DON’T CARE!” She screamed. “YOU AREN’T GONNA HURT HER!”

Mikasa took quick advantage of Sasha’s emotional state and hurled her off, and she tumbled into a heap a few feet away. With little hesitation, Mikasa reequipped her blades.

But it was too late.

“Bertholdt! Y/n!” Reiner barked, lighting already manifesting around him.

The two of you looked at each other with horrified understanding, and prepared your own transformations.

Sparks of electricity surrounded you, and panic filled adrenaline exploded into flesh. Limbs shot out around you, plus the familiar hardened skin of the Armored, the skinless muscle of the Colossal, and the cloudy white body of your own titan.

Seconds passed, albeit one’s that felt like centuries, and you finally opened your eyes. You stood tall on top of the wall; 15 meters high. To your right, Reiner. And behind him was Bertholdt. Only half formed due to the space, and his lower body ceased to exist. Ribs shot out and dug into the stone, and powerful gusts of steam shot off of his body.

The terrified pawns on the wall stared up at you, mouths agape. But the shock didn’t last long.

The hurricane of steam that came off of Bertholdt started to throw things around, and those who didn’t make quick use of their ODM gear were sent flying. One of those figures, Eren, was quickly swept up by Reiner in the chaos.

It was no use, though. That’s why you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he bit his hand and sparks flew, his transformation queued by a guttural scream of rage.

“Damn you... YOU TRAITORS!”

The Attack Titan formed in Reiner’s hand, fist already drawn back and preparing a strike to Reiner.

In a fraction of a second, you formed a large hammer—your namesake weapon—from hardened titan skin, raising it into the air with a passionate battle cry.

The hammer struck Eren in his flank, and he flew abruptly to the left. You shot Reiner a look, and he looked down in understanding, drawing his arms back in preparation for a charge.

Eren had stood up by the time Reiner had started his charge, and immediately braced for impact—he didn’t have the time to move.

Reiner collided with Eren, and knocked him to the ground effortlessly, his greater size and weight being of good use.

The two wrestled on the ground, and you hesitated to intervene. After all, your weapon was powerful, but imprecise. You couldn’t risk accidentally hitting Reiner. Instead, you turned around, assessing the situation on the wall, where Bertholdt had been unceremoniously shackled.

It seemed no one was brave enough—or rather, stupid enough—to approach the colossal in it’s torrid state, and you didn’t know if you should be frustrated or grateful.

But, out of the corner of your eye, a figure swung. Your eyes widened slightly in amusement as ODM gear shot from tree to tree, approaching you at in impressive speed. Hmph. Guess someone is stupid enough after all. You thought.

You were about to swipe them away without a second thought, but you faltered at the sight of auburn brown hair, loosely tied into a familiar ponytail.

You must’ve gotten a little distracted by the sight, because you were suddenly brought back to attention by the figure landing on your shoulder, the hooks of their ODM gear digging into your shoulder, which you assumed were used as leverage mere seconds ago.

You turned your massive head to look at it, and you saw the figure gasp and tremble at the sight. Sometimes, you forgot how terrifying your titan was. But you perked up for a moment, brought out of your violent trance by a familiar face.

“Y/N!” It was Sasha. “Y/n, what is going on here?!”

You opened your mouth to respond, and it came out in a gravely, deep tone because of your titan form. “Sasha...?”

She released the grapples of her ODM to run up and hug your neck—the best she could, that is, with your immense size.

“Y/n! Come on! Why didn’t you tell me! This... this isn’t you... tell me there’s a reason!!!” She screamed.

Turning back to observe Eren and Reiner’s struggle, you sighed internally. It was just like her to get too emotional in a situation like this.

You turned back to Sasha with a sad look in your eyes. Carefully, you brought your hand up to pinch the hood of her Scout jacket, lifting her and placing her back down on top of the wall.

Slowly, you crouched down to her level, meeting her eye to eye despite the pain it caused you to see the heartbroken look in her eyes. Your hand curled around her back to support her, the only kind of pseudo-hug you could give at the moment. Your thumb gently made its way to the top of her head, and you moved it down slowly to caress her head. Tears streamed down her face, the internal conflict being far too much for her to bear.

But a sudden mass to your lower back brought you out of your intimate moment with her. Pain shot up through your body as you felt your back collide with the ground, and your eyes opened in horror. Eren had somehow managed to best Reiner in their scrimmage—and he was after you now.

You started to form the base of your hammer in your hands once again, but a forceful punch to your jaw stopped it’s formation out of the shock and pain.

Another fist made it’s way to your face—and another, and another, and another. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear noises. Roaring, growling, and, the loudest of them all, screaming. Though, in your state, you couldn’t discern if it was even you or not.

Eren delivered his last punch with a frightening roar of passion, and your neck twisted at an unnatural angle as your head snapped off the titan body with a horrid, bone-grinding sound.

Your battered body fell out of the nape of the titan, using what was left of your strength to emerge at the last second. It was all you had in you, though, and the last thing you heard was your own heavy breathing and distant shouting as your vision started to vade.

Eren stood up tall, towering over your unconscious body, raising his fists in the air with a triumphant roar of victory, the cheers of soldiers filling the air.

Filled with adrenaline and ego, he picked up your limp body in his hand, dangling your body over his already opened mouth.

He was going to eat the Warhammer—right here, right now.

That is, until a foreboding cracking noise brought his attention away from you. It took a few seconds for him to locate the source. The Colossal Titan.

It’s bones snapped and ground against one another, it’s massive body slowly shifting like a collapsing skyscraper. It twisted, turned, and groaned until it slowly lost it’s iron grip on the wall—and it was heading straight for Eren.

It’s body collided with Eren, and the force of the impact was comparable to that of an earthquake. Smoke rose from the ground as dirt was upended, trees crackling and snapping as chunks of rock flew up and around from the impact area.

The force of the impact sent you flying through the air. It didn’t take any hesitation, though, for your girlfriend to go flying through the air, catching your bloody body in her arms and wrapping herself around you to keep you safe as she hit the ground and slid against the dirt.

She groaned audibly from the pain, gritting her teeth in a feeble attempt to numb the painful sensations. But, her pain suddenly subsided when she laid eyes on you.

Your lower half had been all but obliterated. Your legs were completely crushed and squeezed out like an old container of toothpaste, and blood gushed from your stomach. She tried in vain to ignore the sight of your snapped bones twisting at odd angles and protruding through your skin.

Panicked, she brought an ear to your chest, desperately searching for that steady rhythm of life beating in your chest.

She had never taken a deeper sigh of relief than she did now, overjoyed at the slow heartbeat you clung onto. It was weak, yes, but you were still here. With her. That’s all that mattered.

Steam slowly rose from your stomach as your body attempted to heal your wounds. Even in a situation like this, your body managed to find the strength to start recovering.

She cradled your body to her chest, sobbing out in both relief and distress as you bled out onto her. Her clothes were already stained red, and her hands were sticky with morbid crimson, but she didn’t care. She held you close, as close as you could possibly be without her physically crushing you, catching her breath and calming herself to the sound of your shallow breaths.

It was a short-lived moment, though, as a dark shadow suddenly covered the ground, and Sasha froze with fear with you in her arms. By the shadow alone, it was impossible to tell if it was Eren or Reiner, and she didn’t want to check. She curled around you, crying quietly in preparation of getting crushed.

But it didn’t happen. A large finger instead placed itself on Sasha’s shoulder, pushing her out of the way to observe your injured state. Her body trembled fearfully as she turned to face it, and was met with the Armored Titan.

She wasn’t sure what to expect next, really. It could’ve crushed her like an ant and ran away with you, or worse, separated her and run off with just you.

She didn’t want to be apart from you. Even if it made her a terrible soldier, even if it made her treasonous, dishonorable, and irredeemable, she would stick with you, no matter whose side you were on. Right or wrong, she was staying with you.

Reiner hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t just bring a Paradis soldier back, it would be a huge problem down the line. But, his eyes glanced to you. He was certain that if he left Sasha there without you, you would never have forgiven him.

So, he cut his losses and gently scooped the two of you up in his hand, holding you and her close to his chest as he started running—god knows where to. She caught a glimpse of a Bertholdt in his other hand, as well as Ymir, still unconscious and strapped to her stretcher.

And Eren. Somehow, Reiner had the severely injured and incapacitated shifter quite literally in the palm of his hand.

Sasha knew that once people slowly started waking up, the fighting would only continue, but she savored this moment. Even if you were bleeding and hurt, your face looked peaceful. As odd as it sounded, she felt content with you in this moment.

As Reiner ran further and further from the wall, Sasha glanced over his shoulder, watching as the faces of her former comrades as they faded into the background.

I wish somebody cared for me the way Sasha cares about Y/n in this fic lmaooo

[morganaspendragonss]

give me all your love now

full credit for the idea goes to jamie ( @silvarafael ), i am just the person lucky enough to be trusted to write it. thank you for letting me, lovely, i hope i did it justice 💚

title from we might be dead by tomorrow by soko

ao3 | 2.6k | 2.12 fix-it of sorts

The fire is everywhere, and all TK can think is that they’re going to die here.

For all his training, for all his experience, panic still has him by the throat; he’s been trapped in fire plenty of times before, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been his house, never been his boyfriend in danger. Carlos’s terrified gaze locks onto his as they crouch on the bedroom floor, and TK has to force himself to focus because it’s not just his life on the line anymore — Carlos needs him to take charge.

He searches through the smoke for something, anything, that could help them, his eyes eventually alighting upon the window. 

“The window,” he says, coughing. “How far down do you think that drop is?”

Carlos frowns. “Um, I—twenty feet? Twenty-five?”

TK barely manages to suppress a wince; a twenty foot drop is no joke, and visions of all the different injuries they could receive flash through his mind, ranging from a few bruises to a broken neck. But the flames are getting ever closer and the smoke thicker, and he knows that there’s no other option.

Either they jump, or they die.

“Come on.” He grabs Carlos’s arm, one hand on his back to keep him low, and they stumble over to the window together. Carlos seizes a chair and slams it into the glass until it shatters, grunting with the exertion.

He takes a step backwards when it’s done, tossing the chair away and looking at TK nervously. TK understands that fear, but he refuses to let it show right now, not when Carlos is so obviously struggling as it is.

“Go on,” he says, “you go first. I’ll be right behind you, I promise.”

“Okay.” Carlos nods and turns to the window, and TK takes the opportunity to let his mask slip. He folds in on himself with a hand pressed against his chest, closing his eyes as he fights to take a breath. His vision is going hazy at the edges and he knows they need to get out as soon as possible—but he refuses to leave before Carlos does. 

As much as Carlos would protest, TK knows that he is the priority in this situation. He doesn’t care what happens to him, as long as Carlos gets out and lives.

Then hands are on his face, gently bringing his head up. TK meets Carlos’s eyes, aching at the raw pain in them—Carlos so rarely lets his worry and fear show openly like this, and TK knows that the same thoughts he’s been having are running through his boyfriend’s mind.

“If we don’t…” Carlos starts, shaking his head. “If we…”

His jaw clenches, eyes going wide, and TK puts his own palms on Carlos’s cheeks, steeling himself for what they both believe might be the last words they say to each other.

He keeps his voice as calm as possible when he says, “Hey. I love you too, okay? Now go!”

He pushes on Carlos’s arm for emphasis, and lets out a breath of relief when Carlos nods and turns back around, stepping to the window. His hands clench briefly at his sides before he seems to steady himself and climbs onto the sill. Carlos sends him one last backwards glance, and TK forces a smile, a fresh pain stabbing through his heart as he gets one in return.

Then Carlos is gone, disappearing through the window with a barely audible yell. TK waits a minute, praying that Carlos is unhurt—or, as unhurt as possible—then moves forward, reaching to haul himself up.

But, before he can, the bedroom door crashes open. TK whips around, his watering eyes taking a second to recognise the bodies in the doorway as his dad and Billy.

“TK!” his dad calls. “Follow us!”

He stumbles over, gratefully accepting the damp cloth from Billy. “Dad,” he croaks. “Carlos, he—” He gestures to the window, hoping the message gets across as another coughing fit almost sends him to his knees. He’s steadied—he doesn’t know who by—then almost dragged out of the room, only aware of a guiding hand on his back and the sounds of his home collapsing around them. Dimly, he registers another voice, another set of hands, but TK can only focus on putting one foot in front of the other, everything else blending into a distorted mess of sensations.

Fresh air, when it hits, is both a blessing and a curse. TK heaves, falling to the ground as he tries to take in lungfuls of clean oxygen, but his throat is raw and his chest tight, and black spots dance in his vision as he fails to breathe. He’s vaguely aware of shapes moving around him, of the searing heat still at his back, but the burning inside him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears overwhelms it all; panic settles deep within him, and TK begins to slip as the darkness only grows.

It feels like a blink, but when he comes back to himself, the scenery is completely changed. He’s no longer outside, rough tarmac under his palms, but flat on his back, staring up at what his clouded mind slowly comes to realise is the inside of an ambulance. 

TK sits bolt upright, ignoring the dizziness that washes over him, and bats clumsily at his face until he manages to dislodge the oxygen mask someone must have strapped on him. He blinks hard, trying to clear his vision, but someone steps in front of him before he has a chance to figure out what’s going on.

“That stays on, Strand,” Captain Vega admonishes, replacing the mask over his mouth and nose. TK squints up at her, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“Cap? What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” she says wryly, before appearing to reconsider. “Actually, no, it’s not. Next time we’re in an ambulance together, please try and make sure that it’s because you’re doing your job, and not because you’re the patient.”

It takes a second for her words to process, but when they do, it’s like a puzzle finally falling into place. TK’s eyes widen and he shoves at the gurney, attempting to drag his uncooperative body into a standing position. He fails fairly spectacularly, his frantic wriggles leading him to almost roll off the gurney and onto the floor — if it weren’t for Tommy catching him at the last second, he’d probably have a broken nose to add to his list of injuries. Whatever those injuries are, anyway.

“Woah, woah, woah!” she cries. “What do you think you’re doing?”

TK takes a moment to breathe, the exertion setting his aching lungs aflame, then looks up at Tommy through watering eyes. “Carlos,” he gasps, the single word taking all the air he has.

Tommy’s face softens and she glances out of the ambulance. “Paramedics are with him,” she says, and TK’s heart plummets when no further explanation is forthcoming. That means… Well, he knows what it means. 

It means that Carlos is hurt, badly, and Tommy doesn’t want to tell him.

He opens his mouth to argue, to plead, to do something, but before he can, his dad appears, switching out with Tommy in the ambulance. Other paramedics he thinks he vaguely recognises from calls jump in too, slamming the doors shut behind them. One of them tries to guide him back onto the gurney, but TK fights against them, panicking as the rig rumbles to life.

“No, I can’t leave. Carlos — I need to see him. Please. Please, I—”

“TK!” His dad is gripping onto his wrists, pinning them down, and TK is too weak to stop him. “You need to calm down, okay? You inhaled a dangerous amount of smoke back there; you have to focus on breathing for us.”

“But—Carlos—”

“Is already being transported.” His dad sighs, loosening his grip. “Son… He fell twenty feet. They wanted to get him to hospital as soon as possible.”

The information sinks in slowly, the guilt following much faster. TK slumps, a sudden, intense weariness overcoming his body even as his mind goes into overdrive with worry. He still itches to know how bad Carlos is, but his imagination fills in the gaps plenty, and TK feels sick with the knowledge that whatever happened, it’s on him.

Carlos fell twenty feet, and TK was the one to tell him to jump.

This is all his fault.

*

“You should not be out of bed.”

TK looks up from pulling on the shirt Paul had donated, scowling at his dad. “I’m fine,” he counters, though his lungs decide to betray him by sending him into a coughing fit.

“Want to try that one again?”

When he’s recovered, TK takes a couple of deep breaths, then looks his dad dead in the eyes. “Sure. I’m fine.”

His voice is raspy and talking grates at his throat, but no coughs follow this time, so TK considers his point firmly proven and continues getting dressed. He can feel his dad’s gaze burning holes in his head, but he ignores him, pushing himself up onto unsteady feet.

His dad shakes his head, but walks over and lets TK lean on him. It’s frustrating to need the support; TK is grateful for it, but it also means that he can’t go anywhere without his dad agreeing to move, which he knows he’s going to refuse to do.

“The doctors wanted to keep you overnight.”

“It’s not like I’m going to leave the hospital,” TK points out. 

“But you won’t be getting any rest either, and they specifically told you to do that.”

“What do you want me to do, Dad?” he demands. The outburst hurts, but TK swallows down the pain and focuses his gaze on his dad, setting his jaw. “I need to see him; I need to know that he’s going to be okay.”

“I know that, son,” his dad says, sighing. “But you can’t take care of him if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I’m barely hurt. You were there too; you heard them say that the smoke didn’t do any real damage.” TK looks down at his shoes, bitterness welling up in him and bleeding into his voice. “‘Lucky’ was the word they used. Wish I felt it.”

A brief silence falls, then his dad shifts, pulling TK’s arm over his shoulders. “Alright, then,” he says wearily. “Let’s go.”

The walk to Carlos’s room is both too short and too long. It feels as though it takes forever to get through the endless corridors, but, by the time they’re standing outside the door, TK hasn’t even begun to prepare himself for what’s waiting for him. His dad had given him the cliffnotes version—burns, a broken arm, a nasty head wound and probable concussion, a shattered kneecap that had needed surgery, and more bruised skin than not—but hearing and seeing are two very different things.

It’s only his dad at his side that gets him to take those final few steps into the room, his hands trembling as he nears Carlos’s side.

He looks… TK wants to pretend that he’s just sleeping, but there’s a slackness to his face that betrays the lie before he can even tell it. Carlos is a light sleeper—not a restless one, but if he were truly sleeping, he would have woken up at this point, roused by so many people being in the room. 

Andrea looks up at their entrance, immediately standing to give up her chair for him. TK goes to protest, but she sends him a stern look and he wilts, accepting the seat with a grateful nod. She rubs his shoulders gently, her gaze so kind and motherly that it almost breaks something in him.

“He’ll be okay,” she murmurs.

TK swallows, squeezing his eyes shut. Tears begin to slip down his cheeks, and he twists away when she reaches to wipe them away. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “This is all my fault.”

The frowns of everyone else in the room are practically audible, and TK burns with shame under the weight of all their gazes.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asks, his tone hard—though TK knows the anger isn’t directed at him. “You didn’t start the fire; this is the fault of that sick bastard who rigged your house.”

“Not the fire,” TK corrects quietly, opening his eyes but not daring to meet anyone’s gaze. “Carlos. Jumping out of the window was my plan. We didn’t know if or when help would come and I just… I guess I panicked because I couldn’t think of anything else, and I told him to do it. All I wanted was for him to get out safe, and now look where we are. If I’d just gone first, then—”

“Then, you’d be in the bed instead of Carlos, and the rest of us would be in exactly the same position,” Andrea interrupts. “You had no way of knowing what was going to happen, and I know you did the best you could. What matters is that you’re both alive; the rest we can figure out.”

TK shakes his head, wanting to argue, but all the fight has left him, replaced by an overwhelming guilt and sorrow. Andrea pulls him into her side as sobs wrack his body, the physical pain paling next to the open wound of seeing Carlos so still before him.

*

“Are you okay?”

TK sighs, wearily looking up at the sound of the hesitant voice from the bed. “Don’t ask me that, Carlos, please. Not now.”

Carlos purses his lips, but nods, understanding clear in his eyes. He’d woken up a day ago after sleeping for two, and to say he’d been struggling would be an understatement. The total loss of their home and all their possessions had hit him hard, and they’d spent much of that first day he was awake just holding each other, words irrelevant and unnecessary.

Today, though, has been different. The team has been trickling in and out, making attempts at light conversation and, when that’s failed, offering up reassurances and, several times, their homes if TK and Carlos need it.

TK appreciates it, but he’s glad for the quiet in this moment. It’s just the two of them, his dad taking a breather with Carlos’s parents in the cafeteria, and he feels he can finally let some of the exhaustion of the past few days show on his face.

Not all of it—he still has to keep up some sort of façade for Carlos’s sake—but it’s not as though Carlos can’t see through it anyway. They know each other too well for that.

“Hey, um, back there,” Carlos starts nervously, not needing to clarify what he means by ‘back there’, “just before I jumped. I thought… I thought we weren’t going to make it. And I just—I just couldn’t say it. I don’t know why. But it kills me that we could have died and I didn’t tell you that I love you, I—I’m sorry, TK.”

TK frowns, reaching to grasp at Carlos’s hand. “What are you talking about?” he says. “Carlos… I know you love me. You don’t need to say it for it to be true. I promise you, I know.”

“I know you do,” Carlos says. “I still should have said it.”

“Baby, no.” TK leans over and kisses Carlos’s palm, lips lingering for a long moment. “No. Don’t… Don’t think about it, okay? We’re alive, and we have the rest of our lives to say it; can we just enjoy that?”

Tears shine in Carlos’s eyes, but he manages a wobbly smile as he meets TK’s eyes. “We can try,” he allows. He sinks back into the pillows, squeezing TK’s hand as hard as he can. “I love you.”

TK smiles. “There we go,” he says softly. He kisses Carlos’s temple, resting their foreheads together and closing his eyes.

“I love you too.”

[lenle-g]

Oh absolutely! <3333

Scott, making his way up to their Father's desk ready to slide his completed mission report into the holo-records, has no idea that his astronaut brother is even home until he discovers a pale, John-shaped lump sprawled limply in the middle of their circle of sofas.

“What the…?” Scott’s breath catches, his eyes blow wide. His heart does a funny, sharp twisting thing in the middle of his chest that it's probably really not supposed to, and there's a beat or two of pure, unacceptable shock in which Scott's world just tunnels in on the presence of what is clearly blood smeared across John's lax, waxy face.

Big brother's chest attempts a hitched, stunted thing that can only be called breathing in the barest sense before Scott is sprinting across their living space and bellowing into the Comm watch at his wrist for help.

“virGIL?!?” Scott trips down the step and into the circle and, in an action his patella will regret later, crashes hard to his knees at his unconscious brother's side, yelling his head off for the most experienced medic in the family as he does so. “VIRGIL! GET IN HERE, NOW!"

The ‘on my way’ is instantaneous - Scott’s tone had clearly sparked a need for speed. No time to do anything but pull up the GPS location and run because there's a messy line of blood leaking from the astronaut’s nose, similar splotches of red pooling in his ears and an awful jagged slash scabbing across his forehead. John's breathing is light and shallow, his skin tone verging on grey and, perhaps most worryingly, he hasn’t responded at all to all the shouting Scott’s been doing and that’s just strikingly wrong. John's always first awake, first to respond - the young man has to be up and about in an instant if any of Thunderbird Five's alarms sound and so he’s trained to spring awake and into action at the slightest thing. They have to be careful not to walk past his room at night, for goodness sake, in case the sound of feet in the corridor wakes him.

This is not right.

Scott takes a sharp breath, the air like glass and his heart racing with terror as he reaches a fearful hand toward his sibling.

"John?" He tries, his fingers bumping against a hard chest. He lays his palm flat over his brother's heart and gives him a shake. "Hey Johnny, come on, wake up." John’s head lolls limply with the motion, and Scott feels a little sick at it, but gets no other obvious results.

"Ok.” He says aloud to himself, trying to think past the rising gorge of panic in his throat. He feels like a deer in headlights in a way he never would on a rescue. "Think Scott!" He slaps a palm against his own forehead, starting to get angry with himself now. "Patient non-responsive. What do you do?" Try and wake them up seems like the obvious answer, though that's failing so far.

Should he roll him into the recovery position, or should he not move him at all? Should he pinch his nose shut or might he choke? Should he...

"Come on John." Scott taps his brother's cheek softly, then a little harder, getting desperate to stir some kind of response now. Scott has to make a conscious effort to avoid getting blood on his fingers from the sheer amount of it that’s smeared across his brother’s face, still leaking sluggishly from John’s nose and spotted on the cushion that's supporting his head from where it's dripped from his ears. There's blood on the astronaut’s fingertips like he'd been trying to stem the flow before he'd passed out.

Hell. That’s not a sign of anything good.

A hundred horrifying scenarios come to mind. There’s so much that can go wrong living in space, and it can go wrong so quickly that you don’t even know you’re in danger until you’re dead. John could be dying right now in front of him and Scott doesn’t know what to...

"Scott! What's going…?" Virgil, skidding into the room with slippery socks against polished wood, trails off as he goes through a similar process of discovery shock to Scott’s, his eyes wide as saucers. “Jesus.” He says before he can stop himself. “What happened?” 

“I don’t know.” Scott can barely breathe around the anxiety. His whole mouth tastes like it's crammed full of fizzy static terror. He scoots around the back of the sofa, leaning over it to give Virgil, who's had the sense to grab a medkit from the wall, more room to work. “I just found him like this.” Scott explains, “How can I help?” He's kept his palm against his brother’s chest the whole time - the feeling of John's heart fluttering beneath his fingertips is the only thing keeping him from freaking out right now. 

Virgil’s knelt at John’s side, his fingers pressed to the pulse at his brother’s wrist. There's a deep, worried furrow between his thick eyebrow.

"Oxygen?" Scott suggests, loitering nervously, but Virgil shakes his head.

"Wait till the bleed stops. His BMP is a little fast. Help me roll him on his side so he's less likely to choke." Scott, complying, nearly kicks himself for not doing that earlier. It's hard to ignore how limp and silent their brother is as they do so - there's something incredibly unsettling about just how floppy he is - like a dead thing washed up on the beach.

Virgil distracts Scott by handing him a pair of latex gloves, snapping a pair on over his own fingers to match. He guides his brother's hand to pinch John's nose hard around the cartilage, clearly hoping it'll stem the bleed. Scott grimaces like he's just been asked to chop the man's leg off, but, to his credit, he holds on tight.

"What's brought this on then, hmm John?" Virgil asks, busy wrapping a pressure cuff around a limp forearm. "Some kind of sudden onset space-related injury?" He muses, inflating the cuff, honey brown eyes glued to the numbers, "Something must have gone wrong with re-entry.” 

He guesses, “A change in pressure in his head from being back on the planet could have ruptured something." 

And John's just been up here bleeding, alone, for who knows how long.

“Ah, his blood pressure is sky high.” Virgil reports the result grimly, noting them and his other readings down holographically at his wrist. "Barotrauma makes sense." It also means that this isn’t going to be a quick fix, John could be out of action for weeks. But what’s happened has happened and all they can do now is treat the symptoms. 

“Right. Let’s get him patched up. Astronauts typically lose ten to fourteen percent of their blood volume while up in space,” Virgil explains, ripping open a packet of steri-stips with his teeth and fumbling to peel one from its backing with his big fingers. “It usually takes a day or two home to regain it, so keep holding his nose while I patch up this cut. John can’t afford to lose much extra right now.”

Virgil pinches the gash together and works on sticking a neat, clean line of steri strips along it to try and keep it from bleeding.

"He's had long enough to get changed out of his spacesuit." Scott points out, he's been thinking about this while he watches his brother work. "But he didn’t flag anything up with us. It must have happened pretty suddenly." Only that doesn't quite add up because the angry red scrape at his temple that Virgil’s precautionarily sticking back together suggests some kind of earlier accident that they should have known about. “The way he’s hit his head looks like he collapsed, but there’s nothing hard to hit it on here.” There's anxious sweat, sticky around Scott's collar at the puzzle of it all. “Why wouldn’t he have called us?” His fingers ball into tight fists, his nails digging hard into his palms. Both rows of perfect teeth press hard against each other, grinding on his rising anger.

"I don't kn…" Virgil starts, but then stops, abruptly. Scott nearly drowns in a wave of terror that John's just died or something, but then he notices the same flutter of ginger lashes that his brother clearly has.

John’s coming round.

"John?" Scott prompts carefully, leaning further over the back of the sofa in a way that has Virgil worried that he's going to end up on top of them. "Hey, can you hear me, bro?" There's a pinched, pained scrunch appearing on their sibling’s forehead, tugging at the new plastic stitches. Slowly, the fluttering turns into blinking, but it takes a minute or two for hazy blue-green eyes to work out what focus is.

“John.” The relief in Virgil’s voice is almost palpable. “Do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?”

It seems a bit early for interrogation. John is blinking glassily at Virgil, his breathing a little hitched. He’s clearly just as confused to be there as the rest of them are. Scott lets up on pinching his nose and both hovering brothers are relieved to find the bleeding seems to have stopped.

“H-Happened?” John eventually asks, blearily. He’s... not sure. All John knows for sure is that he hurts very badly, all over. His head is pounding and the world seems distant and fuzzy like he’s viewing it through a veil of gauze. His brother’s voice sounds muffled and warped, like he’s listening from underwater. "I... I don’t know…" John's mouth shapes the words, though they taste coppery and strange and the vowels sound wet. One of his brother’s presses the hard plastic of an oxygen mask over his mouth and throbbing nose and that doesn't much help his comprehensibility either.

"It’s ok, I should have expected you’d be confused." Virgil smoothes a calming hand the size of a dinner plate gently over his brother's hair, the fine ginger strands slippery between his fingers. "Give it a minute or two, ok? It looks like you hit your head.”

While he waits, Virgil finds a sterile wipe and begins ever so gently cleaning rusty red from John’s skin. A horrific amount of colour leeches out into the fabric as he does so, the stain spreading through the wet fibres and creeping up toward his fingers. John sinks into silence again - staring blankly to the side, blinking lots like he's dizzy even though he’s lying down.

Last thing John really remembers clearly he’d been in the Space Elevator, making his way down from Thunderbird Five. It’d been a rougher ride than usual, but nothing that had screamed imminent danger. Though… if he thinks harder about it, he realises his head had started feeling floaty around halfway down, and there’d been that warning bleep on the 02 readings that he couldn’t explain. He remembers a brief, strange spill of red pressure readings onto his holoscreens, a warning error message, or several, but he would swear they hadn’t felt significant at the time. He’d just felt… floaty and distant. Which should have been a warning sign all of its own.

From the way his head is pounding now, John realises that the craft must have been depressuring around him without him even noticing. It’s a lucky thing that the Elevator is so fast from orbit to Earth. A cold, horrible realisation slithers up John’s spine that, had it been any slower at it, he probably would have died.

"I… the readings were wrong." John manages, though as he does so Virgil notices flecks of blood on his lips and teeth from where it's trickled down the back of his throat. “I think the Elevator was venting atmosphere and I didn’t…” He blinks again, slow and sluggish. “It felt off, but not… I didn’t think anything of it.” He adds. “I… My head hurts.” He squeezes both eyes shut again, his face noticeably growing paler.

“Hang in there J, I’ll give you something for the pain and to lower that BP in a sec,” Virgil promises, his voice considerately much quieter. He lays a palm against his brother’s forehead to feel the heat of it, and is relieved to find it warm but dry. No fever. “We’ll get Brains to check the Elevator over before anyone goes near it again,” Virgil promises, from somewhere above him. “Do you remember hitting your head?”

“I think… uh, I think I fell down the stairs.” The astronaut decides promptly without even opening his eyes, surprising neither of them. “I remember being at the top after getting changed in my room... but I’ve got no memory of anything after that…” 

Scott’s got an awful mental image of his brother dragging himself semi-consciously to the sofa before he passed out and feels sick about it.

“Jesus John...” Big brother echoes Virgil’s sentiment from earlier, then trails off, not knowing what else to say. Virgil clearly sees right through him, recognising Scott’s indecision and wallowing fear as something that really won’t help John right now, and shifts into his all-business-get-things-done-mode.

“Right.” The bigger man says, clear cut, “I want to get a brain scan to check everything’s all right in there.” He imagines there’ll be some cerebral swelling and he’ll have to go through all the cognitive and hearing tests, but John seems much more lucid now than he’d anticipated and that’s a good sign. “And we’re having a talk about your platelet count when you're conscious enough to process it." Virgil promises, narrowing his eyes at John, who, to his credit, at least has the decency to look sheepish about it. “If you’re feeling ill from re-entry… more ill than usual,” He corrects himself, “You need to let us know.” There’s a sigh and then Virgil’s voice goes a lot softer. “You shouldn’t feel like the world has to end before you stop working, John. You shouldn’t be working like this at all. If you’re going to live up in space for such long stints you need to…”

“Take the proper precautions. I know, I know.” John rubs a weak hand over his throbbing eyes. He clearly thinks now isn’t the time for a lecture either. “NASA trained, remember?”

“Oh, I remember.” Virgil isn’t letting this one go. “Sometimes you need to remember it too.” He adds, pointedly. “Right, let's get you to bed for now. I'll have to do some scans and a blood test and monitor your pulse and breathing, but I don't see any reason that can't happen in your own room - clean sheets, blackout blinds, the works." He knows the signs that John’s got a space-induced headache from a mile off, and this must be a particular cracker of one, no pun intended. “I'll have to get some saline and glucose in you to bring your levels up to something acceptable." He adds, apologetically, because that means an IV, which John hates, but really it can't be helped. “We'll have to sit with him in shifts.” His focus shifts to Scott. “If he throws up, check for blood and let me know.”

“I’m not gonna throw up.” John tells him, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Let’s go...” He shifts his bodyweight, his head wobbly and weak and, with both his brother’s diving to provide support, he makes to sit up. The world shutters abruptly into black and white static but, somehow, John remains sitting, waiting for it to pass.

“Hey Virg…” After a few moments, a weak hand curls its long fingers around his wrist, and Virgil finds his bloodied brother looking guiltily up at him. “I… Sorry about this.” There’re flecks of paint at his brother’s cuffs like he’d been interrupted while painting. He turns to his older brother and makes a note of the fear still there. “Scott, I… thankyou.” John breathes, in a rare, awkward moment of vulnerability. “I don’t…” He can’t actually imagine what might have happened if they’d not been there - if he’d been alone like he usually is.

“I’m just glad you’re ok.” Scott presses a warm hand to the back of his brother’s neck, “You sure scared me there, little bro, I thought...” He trails off, leaving Virgil to hum something agreeable in his place as he scoops a thick arm around John’s back.

“Right.” Virgil says again, focusing himself and his brother’s firmly away from the what-ifs, “Time to get you to bed.”

[queenshelby]

The Last Semester – Part Five

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 1,888

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

The Age Gap Issue

It has been ten days since you started dating Cillian and things were great, at least mostly.

Over the past ten days, you spent every single night at Cillian’s apartment, enjoying his company. Neither of you even thought about tuning it down, maintaining distance from each other or taking things slow. It was simply too perfect and there was so much you had to talk about. Then there was the sex. The most incredible sex. You couldn’t get enough of each other.

At university, Cillian managed to keep things professional during the group sessions and largely avoided one on one contact with you during classes. Of course, you had questions for him but, unlike the other students, you simply asked them when you were alone with him, often over a glass of wine or over dinner. The arrangement worked well and, thus far, you haven’t arisen any suspicions.

The deadline was near and secrets didn’t have to be secrets anymore for very long. Cillian’s involvement in your unit was going to come to an end in two weeks and the final assessments for the semester were taking place in as little as four weeks. After that, you could be together without having to hide it.

But there was still one thing that you haven’t quite managed to juggle just yet and this was the difference in age between you and Cillian.

While it didn’t bother you at all, you occasionally noticed that Cillian struggled with it, questioning the feelings he was developing for you.

There was one conversation in particular triggering Cillian’s doubts and that was when you brought up your younger step brothers who were 14 and 12, the same age as Cillian’s sons.

Cillian was rather reserved when it came to conversations about his sons Hendrix and Charlie but, the more he got to know you, the more he told you about them.

You loved that he did share these details with you but, at the same time, it made him realise how you were at totally different stages of your lives and that this might pose problems for the future.

As such, whilst Cillian and his ex-wife Laura had a good relationship with each other after having divorced five years ago, bringing a much younger woman into a step family dynamic at some point was possibly a bad idea.

The other issue that he thought might possibly arise is that you would likely want children yourself at some point. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to start all over again.

In addition to these warranted concerns, there were little things as well that made Cillian feel self-conscious about the difference in age and you couldn’t help but tease him about them.

The Grey Hair

For example, the night before Cillian was due to fly to Dublin to see his sons, he became rather self-conscious about his hair turning grey. It had been turning grey for quite some years but, when you met several weeks ago, he had just finished filming his TV show Peaky Blinders. This meant that his hair was short and coloured dark.

Over the period of six weeks, it grew out slowly, featuring some grey streaks which, this time around, he noticed much more than he ever did.

In addition, Cillian was featuring a few grey hairs on his chest as well and it was that evening, when you arrived at his apartment that you caught him coming out of the shower, his intimate parts covered by a white towel and his chest hair…Gone!

‘Whoa’ you said as you walked inside, noticing immediately that he had shaved his chest.

‘What?’ Cillian went on to ask before giving you a kiss.

‘Why did you do this?’ you pouted, running your hands over his bare chest. ‘I loved running my hands through it’ you said somewhat disappointed as you really enjoyed playing with the small amount of hair on his chest when you cuddled up against him.

‘Well…some have turned grey’ Cillian said somewhat reluctantly and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘As is expected at your age’ you giggled teasingly before realising what this was all about.

‘Yeah, that really makes me feel better’ Cillian laughed and you pressed your lips onto his for a passionate kiss.

‘I have no idea why you are so self-conscious about a few grey hairs Cilly’ you went on to say, slightly amused.

‘Because you are twenty years younger than me’ Cillian responded and you sighed.

‘Here we go again’ you chuckled before pushing him backwards to sit on the lounge while you stood in front of him.

‘Listen, there are a lot of women younger than me who are very attracted to you’ you said and Cillian recalled the Instagram posts you had showed him a few days ago, which made him shake his head.

‘Also, I really like your grey hair. It’s fucking sexy. You are fucking sexy’ you then went on to say.

‘I am just saying that you could be with someone your own age Y/N’ Cillian responded.

‘And why would I want that?’ you asked. ‘We connect perfectly and you are literally the first person I have ever met with whom I am never running out of conversation. You are intelligent, funny, kind and very handsome. In addition, the sex is fucking amazing. I don’t want anyone else and I want you to let this damn hair grow back’ you demanded all while you seductively unwrapped your dress and revealed your black lace lingerie.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian barely managed to say as you stood there in front of him.

‘I bought it today. For you’ you winked before walking over towards him, kissing him passionately and then unwrapping the towel around him like you were opening a present.

As he sat there in front of you, completely naked, you pulled a pillow from the lounge and put it onto the floor before kneeling down on it, right there in between his legs.

Your mouth opened and you leaned forward just enough to catch the head of his cock between your lips.

‘Fuck, yes’ Cillian swore and you sighed, your eyes fluttered at the feeling of him, fighting to open your mouth wider to take more of him in. He was hot, and you tasted the sweet savory drop of precum that leaked onto your tongue.

Watching Cillian like this was enchanting. You sucked harder, feeling him pulse against your lips and tongue. His eyes widened and he moaned. Oh, you would do almost anything to hear him make that sound. It was an incredible turn on for you. Your tongue swirled around him, flicking the crown and massaging under the head.

‘Oh god Y/N’ Cillian murmured, and he reached for you. You felt his fingers clench in your hair so little prickles of pain burned your scalp. You met his eyes as he pulled your face into his crotch, and his cock hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but you kept your eyes on his expression, and watched him fall apart above you.

‘Shit’ Cillian eventually jerked away, wrenching himself out of your mouth. A long trail of spit connected you, and eventually broke, slapping against your chest. You caught your breath.

‘I want you so fucking much’ he growled, his voice strained. He caught you under your arms and helped you to your feet before picking you up and carrying you to his bed.

‘Cillian, please I need you inside of me’ you whimpered and Cillian shoved you against the bed, your back facing him, and you shivered as you felt his hands squeezing at your ass and hips. He stood directly behind you, and you could feel the hair on his legs tickling the backs of your thighs.

‘You almost made me lose it there’ Cillian said as he unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the ground before quickly pulling down your lace panties.

‘I could tell you enjoyed it’ you grinned as Cillian moved one of your legs with his hands, bending your knees one at a time so you were crouched on the bed. He paused behind you, and you closed your eyes, listening to his ragged breathing, trying to stay calm.

Cillian’s finger traced your slit gently, and you gasped and let out a shaky moan as he dipped into your wetness.

‘So wet for me already’ Cillian smirked and you simply nodded. You couldn't talk. You could barely breathe.

Within seconds, you felt the head of his cock press against you, and then he grabbed your hips, and shoved it inside.

You cried out as he invaded your body. A hot flash of something went through you, and your arms buckled under you as you fell face first into the mattress.

You could hear Cillian behind you, grunting and swearing, holding your hips tightly, his nails biting into your skin. He pulled you back against him roughly, and another hot flash of pleasure shot through your body. You felt like you were going to explode any minute.

‘Y/N’ he growled, and shifted behind you, and then you felt his arm snake around your waist and up to your face. He pulled you up and held your chin firmly with his hand. You could feel his chest pressed against your back, like he was holding you tight against him in a hug as he continued to thrust into you.

‘Oh god Cillian yes’ you moaned as he was dropping his head and caught your neck with his teeth. He bit you gently, and then sucked hard at the bite, thrusting deeper and deeper into you in a way that you still couldn't understand.

‘Open your eyes’ he growled into your ear and your eyes flew open. Across from you was the mirror of the nightstand. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you took in the sight of Cillian buried inside your body, holding you close.

‘Cillian’ you moaned again as your whole body caught fire, and burned, and burned. You saw fireworks behind your eyes and your brain went all staticy.

It could have lasted an hour, or been just a moment in time, but the next thing you knew was that your legs began to shake violently and your walls began to clench around Cillian’s hard cock.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your juices squirted onto the wooden floor.

At the same time, Cillian reached his high as well, thrusting into you with several loud groans as he filled you with rope after rope of his warm cum.

‘Jesus that was amazing’ Cillian huffed just before he pulled out of you gently and you both collapsed on the bed together.

‘So, tell me again Cilly, why would I want to be with a younger guy?’ you giggled.

  Tag List (Cillian):

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@l0tsofpennies @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby

[one-real-imonkey]

Well then,

How about.....some Commander Fox hurt/comfort? Bonus points if it involves cuddles

Oooo.

I love the Corrie Guard and they deserved better. So much better.

Enjoy...

———

Fox’s head ached.

It wasn’t unusual, he woke up with them a lot, a perpetual headache because there was always more to do and he definitely wasn’t sleeping or eating enough. Being common didn’t change that he wanted to bury his face back into the pillow, pull the covers over his head and sleep some more. The nightmares had been horrific last night, not that he’d woken from them, but they haunted the edges of his memories. Nightmares when his head was like this weren’t unusual either, or at least very strange dreams.

What was unusual was that he didn’t remember the journey from the Chancellors office to his bed.

How tired had he been?

“You were out late vod. Have fun?”

Stone was leant over him, waggling his eyebrows, but his own only scrunched in confusion, before he gently shoved his vod aside so he could sit up.

“I was?”

He hadn’t meant to ask, but he had no memory of going out. If he’d been that tired, why would he have gone out. He remembered the headache that had been building in the chancellor’s office, if it had become the migraine he was suffering the after effects of now, why had he gone out.

Headaches were the worst, but a headache that erased the memories of an entire evening... that was concerning.

He couldn’t remember ever experiencing anything like it, but then, why would he remember amnesia?

“Looks like. How drunk did you get?”

“I was drinking? I don’t remember.”

He supposed getting black out drunk could explain it. If he’d gone with the boys despite his headache to drink and relax, would probably leave him tired and headachy, but it just didn’t feel right.

“Vod, you ok? Want me to get Fix? He’s stingy with the hangover meds but...”

He pressed his hands into his eyes like it might take the headache away, even though he knew from experience it wouldn’t, then dragged his hands down his face and threw off the blanket.

Stone huffed and rolled his eyes, though he really should have been used to Fox’s stubbornness by this point, but he was glad his Vod’ika was there when his legs didn’t hold him up, catching him and helping him sit back down.

“Ohhhh Foxy can’t stand,” Thire called from the door to the showers, “must have been a good night.”

“How do you even know, vod’ike, the logs should be sealed.”

“Damn you really were drunk,” oh great, Hound too, “ori’vod, you stumbled in like 2 hours ago smelling of smoke and booze and walked into two bunks and Thires footlocker before stripping and passing out in bed. You don’t remember?”

2 hours sleep, no wonder he was tired.

But Hound was right, he was in his blacks with his armour scattered below him on the floor, and he did smell of booze and smoke, but... it still didn’t sit right.

He was missing something.

Well, his memories, but it was more than that.

Thire was still laughing, “When are we going to meet them?”

“Meet who?”

“Oh I see, playing it like that.”

Hound and Thire both smiled, but Stone was frowning next to him.

“I... I wasn’t out drinking with you?”

“You really don’t remember? Ori’vod, are you... I think maybe you should go to Fix.”

Yeah, Stone was definitely concerned.

“Wait, where’s Thorn?”

“He got called out to a fire on one of the lower levels, the fires out and now they’re saying it’s looking like some sort of holdout, he’s investigating.”

Grizzer hopped off of Hounds bed while he was talking and curled himself at Fox’s feet. He couldn’t help but scratch behind his ears while his vod finished his explanation.

There was something about that, about a fire and a firefight, that felt familiar. Not in a... not in an ‘it’s something we’ve faced before’ way, but... he didn’t know.

“A fire, a big one, when?”

“Last night, just after midnight I think. Least that’s when the call came in, but it might have been going for at least a little while before. Not the sort of area in the lower levels where civilians go, but apparently there were weapons catches and illegal booze and all sorts there. Looks like the start of some sort of insurgent group, or Seppie hideout, according to Thorn anyway.”

Before he’d returned then. Maybe that was it, he’d seen it while he was out, or on the news where he’d been drinking. A large fire would make the news, even if it was in a less populated area.

But who had he been out with. Not his vode here, there wasn’t anyone he was seeing, contrary to his vod’ike’s beliefs, Cody and Wolffe and Bly were all off world. Had he been drinking alone?

It didn’t matter, he needed a shower and to get ready. He was a good soldier, he couldn’t skip duties because he was hung over.

Grizzer whined quietly as he stood, but his vode didn’t try to stop him going to the shower, and it did him a lot of good, waking him up a little even if it did nothing to the pounding in his temple and stung at the now revealed chalk cuts and bruises across his torso.

Returning from the block in a towel, Thire passed him a pair of blacks and his armour had been sorted on his bed. All his vode were looking at the bruises he’d discovered on his chest and neck and shoulders, not awful or too painful but he didn’t like that he couldn’t remember their cause. Not one of them mentioned it though.

His vode were too good to him.

“Vod, you look like hell, you can take the day on light duty.”

“I can’t. I have a meeting with the Chancellor.”

“That’s alright, one of us can take it for you.”

‘Oh commander, don’t disappoint me, after all if you aren’t up to it, I’m sure one of your brothers can fulfil my needs.’

“No,” he answered almost too quickly, panic in his voice though he wasn’t entirely sure why, “no, it’s fine. I can do it.”

“Are you sure? You look three steps from collapsing. Hound can...”

“Grizzer growls at the Chancellor every time. Hound isn’t going to the meeting. I am.”

“If you pass my test.”

He spun to the other door, where Fix, their medic, was standing. He blinked a few times as the world spun, and his vode used his slight dizziness to guide him to his bed.

“I don’t need this vod.”

“Stone said you had no memories at all of last night and a headache. That could be more than just alcohol and it’s protocol I check. You’re my vod and I’m worried about you. Not to mention those bruises.”

Grizzer hopped up this time, lying across his lap and keeping him pinned. Judging from Hounds smile, this was doing the Mastiff had been trained to do. He huffed at the prick of the needle and waited for the scanners to work, while Fox’s frown deepened.

Last night. What had happened last night?

Why couldn’t he remember?

“What in the...?”

“Vod?”

“Fox... you have no drugs in your system. Or alcohol. You show no sign of a concussion. What were you doing last night?”

A crash, a splash and he was drenched, the whoosh of flame igniting, blasters firing, something colliding with his chest, his own blaster in his hands... it was all so vague, so... so close but so far at the edge of his consciousness.

He flinched away from the thoughts, from his attempts to remember, as the throbbing at his temple grew to near blinding pain.

“I... I don’t know.”

Stones arms wrapped around him, Grizzer whined, Thire and Hound manoeuvred their way to the bed to join Stone in the hug.

He had a meeting with the Chancellor that afternoon, and his head stung at the thought.

Grizzer whined again and nuzzled in and his Vode’s arms tightened around him.

Something had happened last night, but he didn’t know what.

He was scared to find out.

———

Sorry this took so long to write, it got a little away from me and also I got distracted by a puzzle. Lamo.

I loved this prompt. Poor Fox, being mind controlled like that. But then, Palpatine had to make sure the chips worked. (Cough cough Fives death cough) and they were close to him at all times.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.

Inbox is always open. :-)

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Sore (Revenant x Reader)

Theme: Revenant comforts (in his weird way) and helps a reader who is tired and sore from a lot of strenuous work and activity, coming down from a manic high. Part of a series.

Warnings: Mentions of mania, threats of violence, bodily pain.

Reader Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is non-gendered this chapter, this can be read in the context of romance or not.

Writing Notes: Reject leg damage, ascend to Octane. I guess this is a series because I have no chill.

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Ah, little skinsuit, you're back." Revenant seems genuinely surprised by your appearance in his doorway. You had wearily limped all the way back to his private room from the volunteer breakroom on other side of the Apex compound. He had, indeed, mentioned something about being willing to help you again previously, but just in case, you had an excuse for showing up.

"I brought you a water." You hold up a water bottle, your arm shaking from exhaustion. A lot of the Legends would have volunteers run water, drinks, and snacks to their rooms from the kitchen and cafeteria, so it was decent cover in case he didn't actually mean it before. After all, you were right at the start of a manic episode then and weren't thinking straight last time. I mean, you asked a killing machine for help, outright, with no thoughts of what that might lead to. But you lived! And he was oddly nice, despite your brazen request.

"When was the last time you slept?" there is something a bit off about his vocals. Genuine concern, perhaps? Or maybe you are imagining it. "You know I don't drink water, right? It's tasteless and I don't need it, so there's no point in me drinking it."

Your gut sinks. You never even considered that, but when you think about it, the only runs you ever made to his room were for various alcohols, usually hard liquors. You should have just brought something from his prior requests, but you were so confident in water as something everyone enjoyed...

"Sit down. You're not answering me quickly enough to be reassuring." He motions to a small bench in his room with cushions situated in front of the television, which was broadcasting some of the highlights from the last match. You want to walk over, but you're too busy rubbing your eyes at the moment trying to fight back the fatigue. The water bottle slips out of your hands as they rub into your eyes for a moment, and as you jolt to try to catch it, you feel the soreness in your legs lock them... causing you to fall on right your face.

"So... I take it that it's been a while." He seems bemused, but you are too tired to be bothered by it. You just lay there, face down for a moment, absolutely and utterly exhausted. The water bottle steadily and slowly rolls away from you and towards where Revenant is sitting: at a computer desk to the right of the room, pushed up against the far wall.

He audibly sighs, and you hear nothing for a moment. Then you feel a single, metallic arm scoop under your belly and hoist you up like cattle. You feel the weight of your torso balance against the weight of your legs, sufficiently winding you as your hang by your diaphragm on his forearm. You stare blankly at the floor, blurring from your weary vision. He carries you to the cushioned bench, and places you down on it surprisingly gently. The cushions help keep the bench from being wholly uncomfortable as you slowly find yourself splayed out on it. You stay limp, letting your limbs fall where they will. He's right. You haven't slept in a while.

"Sorry..." You utter as he sits next to your pretend corpse non-chalantly. He's hunched forward, forearms resting on his knees, looking over you with notable interest. Your last manic episode was only just beginning to wear off, and you managed to hurt both your legs running around at full speed during it. Even worse, the mania kept you from sleeping last night, only getting in an hour and a half at best, which is always somehow worse than not sleeping at all. You were already drifting to sleep as your thoughts wander.

"Hey." You wake back up with a jolt at the feeling of a cool hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "Seriously, what kind of ship are they running in this place? Why are you so desperate as to come to me for help--twice?"

You move to sit up, and his hand drifts away. You should apologize and leave with the water. That would be best, right?

"I'm sorry for the disturbance." You say as you hobble to your feet.

"Bit late for that. Also, those legs aren't going to hold you up for long, your muscles are already quivering like a violin string against a bow." You loosely see him point to your legs through your blurry vision. He is right. They hurt really badly. They had been given a moment of rest and they are screaming to be given a longer reprieve.

"Sit."

"I'm sorry, I'll just be--"

"SIT." His growling command is absolute. You collapse onto the bench with no further protests. Your legs are still sore, whimpering in pain, but much better now that they aren't supporting any weight. You sit upright, but you feel your posture faltering rapidly as you begin to drift towards sleep.

Revenant stands up off the bench while picking up the runaway water bottle in a single, sweeping motion.

"This is fairly cold, was it originally frozen?" He towers over you intimidatingly.

"Yes, most Legends like cold water, so we are constantly defrosting frozen bottles throughout the day." You answer blankly.

"Good. So where are the frozen bottles?"

"In the mess hall kitchen, walk-in freezer B, on the left." His questions give you just enough mental focus to break through the fuzz of exhaustion for a moment. "Would you like me to retrieve you a frozen one instead?"

"No, it's fine, I'll go." He starts to turn to leave, but you speak up.

"Actually, only volunteers and staff are supposed to enter the kitchen area--"

"I go wherever the hell I want." He turns back to shoot you a glare. "Now get up, and lie down in that bed." He points to the surprisingly large bed immediately behind the bench, perched at perfect viewing angle from the droning television. "I don't sleep. Haven't touched it. Won't touch it. You might as well use it."

"Wait, I can't just--"

"You don't have a choice anymore. Now go." He turns and slides out the door, letting the hatch close behind him, but not before giving you one last dirty look for questioning his request.

You consider that it is technically a part of your volunteer duties to do as the Legends ask. Sure, you are allowed to deny any obviously bad faith requests, but nobody said you had to deny them. Plus, Revenant is probably the most mysterious, concerningly foreboding, and terrifyingly powerful Legend in the Games. Nobody would blame you for doing as he asks the moment he asks it, especially when every word he speaks oozes with a threatening aura. Most volunteers wouldn't even come to his room. You were just happy to take all their requests and deliver them yourself to get to see him for a few moments. Sure, you had to trade away a couple Fuze requests and Wraith requests to prioritize him, but everyone seemed intimidated enough that they came to you to trade well before even considering just making the delivery. You were known as the only volunteer who actually liked delivering Revenant's many requests, even when some of them required going above and beyond the normal snack or drink runs.

You manage to hobble yourself onto both legs, which are once again screaming for relief from your weight. With a couple of well placed limps, you make it to the edge of the bed. He really hasn't touched it. Not a single wrinkle in the cloth. Nothing is out of place. Pillows are fully fluffed and without craters from a resting head. You hesitate to ruin it, but you know you must.

You crawl into it, collapsing only a few inches from the edge you started on. It's so soft. They really spared no expense for the Legends' beds, apparently. You remember them getting remodeled and finding the bench to be an odd choice over a nice couch, but you didn't know they were outfitted with beds made of clouds. You wonder, what does Revenant do all night if he doesn't sleep? How boring must that be? Does he charge his chassis? Does he shut down? You think about what it must be like to shut down. Shutting down must be nice. Peaceful. Just being able to rest. Similar to sleep. If only...

• • •

You suddenly regain awareness of your surroundings. How long were you out? Are you still in bed? Why is it so dark? You lift your head a little and tilt it towards a skylight window on the ceiling. Your back is newly sore, and your neck protests being bent. It's night now. You've been asleep for at least five hours for it to be this dark. You begin to scan the surroundings just to be startled by the hulking mass sitting on the bed next to you. His eyes glow dimly, locked on to yours.

"Feel any better?" His vocalizations are a bit more hushed than usual. He may not be sure if you're fully conscious yet. To be fair, you're not sure you're fully conscious either. You want to answer, but you're paralyzed like a deer, staring into his optic LEDs. After a moment of uncertain silence, he reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly, bringing your mind back in focus.

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to--!"

"Shut it. You slept like a corpse. Probably one of least entertaining sleepers I've met." Wait, he watches people sleep? "Although, to be fair, you might be much more restless on a normal night. Maybe this is like one of those pilot episodes that is just not up to the quality of the rest of the series." You noticeably shudder and pull away as you sit up to face him. "See, more of that would be better." You hold the sheet in front of you defensively, not that it would stop anything larger than an insect. "Cute." He pulls the sheet from your hand and it falls back to the mattress.

You can't help but feel a bit bothered by his inquisitive stare, now knowing it's been collecting data for hours without your knowledge. You lean away as you think about it, continuing to shudder, deciding that perhaps this Legend is still planning to dissect you at some point after all.

He relishes in your fear for a moment, but then swiftly moves to get up and walk to the kitchenette. He opens the freezer, unleashing a powerful light into the room for a moment, before pulling out a bottle and closing the door, taking the light with it.

"What hurts?" He grabs a towel from atop the freezer, wrapping the frozen water bottle completely.

You stutter for a moment, and then get it out:

"I hurt my legs pretty badly yesterday, as well as my back, apparently." You had just woken up to it sore and aching, unfortunately meaning that all that box lifting had finally caught up with you. You reached behind yourself to try to massage it, but you felt a cool compress push up against it. When did he get behind you? He didn't even make a sound.

"A sore back is the worst." Why was he doing this? Has he really taken some kind of liking to you? "Even Rampart takes pity on me and readjusts my spinal plates when they get misaligned." He rolled the covered, frozen water bottle up and down your spine, helping with the pain a bit. "I haven't met a skinsuit or simulacrum who simply walks off a bad back."

You felt bad. He shouldn't be helping you. Why was he even bothering with you? What compelled him to do or say any of this?

"Hey, don't hunch forward like that, it'll get worse." You snap to attention.

"S-sorry!" You let slip out of your mouth as his spare claw wraps around your left shoulder and pull you back against the bottle and into the correct posture.

"Anyways, I was about to ask... Where do they get off working you to the bone like this?"

"It's actually my fault. I haven't stopped working since the third season, the more you work the more interaction with the Legends you get, I wanted to make sure I got the best positions and shifts." You pause. "I should have taken time off the moment I started to get fidgety. I should have known I would do something stupid and inappropriate..." You trail off, realizing you're speaking things out loud that are better kept in your internal monologue.

"Well, you're not dead so far, but you're really damn close to Death now." Your spine was starting to relax and decompress, finally. "So, if you're working that hard, that means you definitely are a huge fan of one of these skinsuits... so, who is it? Season 3 you said, right?" He paused as you started to turn flush without his notice. "Octane doesn't suit you, you're slow and clumsy. Although, perhaps that's something to aspire to. It couldn't be Crypto, he's unimaginably boring. Wattson, though, I have noticed she has a lot of fans..." He was simply mumbling on. It didn't really matter why you started anymore, you already had a new favorite. "So, which one? I'll add 'em to my list of high priority targets, just for you." He pauses, awaiting an answer.

"You..." You say, as softly as you can.

"Repeat that. Louder." Did he hear you?

"You." You say it just loud enough to know he heard it this time. "You were my favorite the moment you joined," you pause, deciding if you should confess this, "especially after that stunt you pulled on live TV." You hated Forge like all the other volunteers after word spread around about how he treated Bangalore. He may have put on a decent façade for the camera, but clearly was a predator behind the scenes. When an abuser is backed by big money like Hammond Robotics had, they could freely abuse anyone without consequences. Money tends to shut people up, despite the victims. Your gut told you all you needed to know about Forge the moment you first saw him. Thankfully, it was also the last time you saw him. Even though the just side of you knew that Forge deserved some kind of trial, the more primal part of you was happy to see him gone. The justice system would have been rigged in his favor anyway.

Revenant was silent as you pondered. Shock? Disgust? Or just nothing to say? He wasn't one to be speechless.

"Well, not sure what kind of a psychopath you are, but your wanton lack of self-preservation is my favorite thing about you." Was he offended at your answer? He sounded humored. You panic a little and start to pull away, but get pulled backwards--all the way into his enveloping grapple.

His entire frame practically swallows yours. You peer up just to catch a glimpse of his face staring down menacingly at you. You instinctively start to ball up defensively, but he snags one of your legs before you can tuck it away behind your arms. He's strong. Disturbingly strong. Even for a mechanical amalgamation, his grip is unfetterable. You couldn't free your leg, and you knew there was no way you could squirm out of it.

"This hurts too, you said?" The bottle was pressed to your calf, and he applied steady pressure to the muscle to relieve the nerves and cramping. Why was he doing this? Didn't he just make a thinly veiled threat to kill you? "You should consider giving me the other leg too. Unless you're afraid I'm not going to give this one back." He mocks you, but honestly you aren't sure he is truly joking about taking your leg or not. He could, if he wanted. He's huge, strong, and apparently he can make blades from his mechanical hands. You shudder a bit at the thought that those same lethal hands are currently prodding at your calf muscle... He is actually fairly adept at relieving pain, oddly enough. You feel the pressure ebb away the soreness as it reaches relief. You knew a little about simulacrums, enough to know they were once human. Did he hurt himself a lot back then? How else would he know how to do this?

"Hey, I'll trade you." He releases your one leg, it actually feels a lot better. Just a bit of pressure in the right areas really calmed it down. He motions for the other, but you cower for a moment too long. "Give me your damn leg." You immediately relinquish it, carefully pulling back the newly relieved leg into your defensive ball stance, per the trade agreement. He proceeds to perform the same relief on the other leg as well.

"You know, normally when I'm asked for help, I get to kill something." His gaze remains locked on your leg. "Instead, you just tempt me and expect me not to. Now why would you do that, little skinsuit?" You lock on to his eyes, but they never meet yours. "You've got a death wish, as far as I can tell. I'll confess, I like that about you." You keep perfectly still and silent, trying to stay as small as possible. "You're playing a risky game. Can't say I get to play these games often, so I'm going to make the most of it." He gently releases your leg, now feeling better and relaxed. You pull it into your ball, finally completing the pathetic stance. His giant, clawed hand comes down to pet you on the head a little roughly. He could crush your whole skull, if he wanted. That is the primary message, laced with the subtle message that he won't do that, yet. A chill runs up your spine.

"Alright, I've made my decision." He's out of bed, taking the thawing bottle and towel back to the kitchenette.

"W-What?" You are very uncertain.

"It's fine, I'll have it taken care of. Now sleep. You haven't slept enough." Your spine curls a bit at the prospect of sleeping in the presence of this guy again. You start to get up to leave, but it's slow moving since you're still a bit iffy on your legs.

"It's okay, I have a bunk in the volunteer space I should get back to..." You trail off, meeting his gaze and causing you to freeze right before standing up. His yellow eyes seem brighter and more visceral than before, locking you into a stare down. You blink immediately, that's not a fight worth attempting. "...why?" You can't tell if you're pleading or hoping for a genuine answer. He turns away to look back into the blinding light of the open freezer for a moment.

"Go, if you want, but I'm only giving you five seconds." He doesn't turn to look at you, he just starts counting. "Five..." Should you go? "Four..." Would he come after you? "Three..." You don't want to go, actually. "Two..." You want to see where this goes. "One..." What else do you have to do, anyway? "Zero."

Revenant turns to meet your gaze, his eyes noticeably widening and dimming in the dark when he sees you still there. He probably knew you didn't move, after all he would have heard it, but he still seemed happy to see you there anyway.

"Now, sleep. I'll take care of the rest." You felt a bit uneasy, but you laid back down, uncurling yourself and trying to make yourself comfortable. Revenant didn't linger over you on the bed this time, instead he must have gone from the kitchenette over to the computer desk, because you slowly dozed off to the sounds of the keyboard feedback chirps and pointer clicks as he worked with the heads-up displays. You were more tired than you thought, and dozed off quickly.

• • • •

"... Hah! I knew the pilot episode wasn't a good indicator of quality." You woke up to him looming over you in the bed again, but this time you were not taken by surprise. "You twitch a lot while you sleep; you even murmur absolute nonsense." You sigh. This is fun for him somehow. "I swear you were trying to run or swim at one point... Did you get away? Or did you drown?" You don't know how to answer his questions, you don't remember any dreams. In fact, he probably has more of an idea than you do at this point. You meet his gaze, and it seems to be understood that you have no answers. He sighs, clearly disappointed.

"Shame, well, in the meantime, congratulations on your promotion."

"Wait, what?"

"Here, welcome to the team." He drops a red laminated badge on top of you, and swiftly makes his way out of the bed, just to crawl up the wall, onto the ceiling, and starts to exit through the skylight window. "Sorry I can't spend more time with you, but I have a match today." His voice is nearly drowned out by the sound of aircraft starting up. "Watch for me, I'll make sure I knock out whichever one of those skinsuits used to be your favorite early on." You can hear the sneer in his voice through the overwhelming aircraft engines.

He disappears from view, the window closes, the aircraft noise dampens again, and the television drones on with the pre-match banter between announcers in front of you. You stare up at the morning sky for a moment, wondering what you got yourself into.

You look down at the badge. It is a top clearance badge, meant for direct employees of the Legends. It can get you access to almost anywhere and to almost anything. It has Revenant's personal seal on it, marking you as his. It has all the correct watermarks, and a scannable chip to prove authenticity. You've only seen a few of these, and you heard Mirage once got in huge trouble for selling his as a VIP experience. But it did nearly sell, and it was already bidding for enough money for any sane person to retire off of.

You aren't a volunteer anymore. You're Revenant's subordinate. Notably an important enough one that you can go almost anywhere he can go. The badge shimmers in your hands, sparkling in your eyes. This badge is worth more than anything you've ever held before in your life. You revel in it for a moment, until you notice it: You're now "Little Skinsuit" according to the "Name" field on the badge. He genuinely couldn't resist, could he? You'd be bothered if it wasn't genuinely hilarious. That means somewhere in the security checkpoints, "Little Skinsuit" was now registered at nearly maximum clearance. Amazing.

You sit there for a moment, pondering how you got yourself into this. You had a moment, just a single moment a few days ago, where you felt like you could ask him for help. You just wanted to calm down; you had tripped, bruised your feet, hurt your calves, and even busted a couple bottles of liquor and whisky meant for him because of your manic movements as you ran back and fourth from one side of the complex to the other. Finally, after getting him everything he requested, intact, you lost your inhibition for a mere moment. You asked if he'd help you settle your mania. And for some reason--maybe he had already started to get some kind of drunk at that point--he said yes. That's what started it all.

He said something about helping you again before you left last time. And then you came back yesterday, completely in the fog from no sleep and a continued manic episode, but holding on to that promise. And now you've somehow become his personal errand runner, holding an ID worth more than you could grasp. What the heck is happening anymore?

For now, you stare into the sky, and soak in the sun, and just relax in the moment. You get to watch today's match instead of scrubbing the floors. It'll be a nice day.

[thefanfictionartist]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou X Y/N

Summary: After a messy break up with another blonde peer, Y/N is left with pent up frustration, making it difficult to focus on third year exams. While studying with the Bakusquad, she notices a similar frustration in Bakugou. How are they going to relieve that stress?

Word Count: 3.8k

Rated M for Mature; intended for 18+ audiences.

A/N: Those of you with Wattpad may have seen this story from my one-shot book already.

Part Two

  ~          ~           ~            ~             ~               

 "Boys are dumb."

    That was the first conclusion you had come up with while sitting with your best friend, Mina Ashido, at lunch. As you slump over in your seat and place your head in your heads, she wraps her arms around you in consolation.

    "Well.. I can't exactly argue with you on that one." The pink-skinned girl manages a small glance to a few of the class 1-A boys.

    One of which had managed to short circuit himself while charging five phones at once, the others nearly collapsing with their laughter at their friend. Mina manages a sigh before casting her gaze back onto you.

    "Look, you know that he's just trying to get under your skin." She states before pulling away to take a sip of her soda.

    You know exactly who she's talking about because she knows exactly why you're upset.

    It was all because of a stupid dreamy blond in class 1-B. Neito Monoma. As of the current moment, you can't remember what you ever really saw in him. Why would anyone date such an egotistical ass? Risking it all, you take a chance with looking towards his usual seat in the cafeteria to find him looking right at you. And you know what he does when he sees you?

    He winks.

    Like you didn't catch him a few weeks ago with Yaoyorozu.

    Huffing in slight embarrassment, you turn back to your own table, swearing to yourself that you won't ever look his way again. "Nei-" No. He doesn't deserve for his first name to be used by you anymore. "Mr. Copycat can go fuck himself. I don't fucking care."

    You scowl, taking an aggressive bite of soba.

    "Besides, the final exams are coming up. I don't have the energy to even think about him."  You recollect, reverting to thinking about the study session the Bakusquad planned for this weekend. Mina gives you a blinding smile and a thumbs up.

    "There's the spirit, Y/N!" Her enthusiasm is hard not to mirror as lunch goes on and it ends with soba noodles nearly spurting from your nose because you were laughing so hard.

                                                         - - - - - 

    Classes had just ended for the week and you're pretty sure that you have lost knowledge rather than attaining more. Thank god for this study session or you would be failing your third year at UA.

    You rub your head, feeling a headache coming on as you try to recite important hero laws you've been taught earlier in the year. Feet dragging you into the dorms, you plop onto the couch of the common room without thinking about it. "Always be aware of your surroundings.. Do anything in your power to keep civilians safe.. Keep track of villains and whether or not you know their quirks.." Starting to mumble situational rules, you miss the extra presence in the room.

    "Oh, hey Y/N!"

    Kirishima's voice snaps you from your mantra, your head whipping around to look at him. "What's up, Kiri?"

    "We're all meeting up in Bakugou's room to start cramming. Kaminari wanted to start a little earlier than planned and I thought you might want to join." Sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, he gives you a friendly sharp-toothed smile, which manages to raise your spirits a bit.

    Nodding, you are already out of your seat. "Yeah, I'll be there I just have to grab my notes from my dorm first."

    Memorizing these things would be much easier with other people helping you remember. It always was. But somehow, you still felt distracted from your studies. You knew exactly why but also refused to dwell on the subject any longer. It wasn't worth your time.

Just as promised, you showed up at Bakugou's door a few minutes later with your 'cram-sesh' bag.

It was really just a bag filled with all of your notes, bunches of blank index cards, and an incessant amount of snacks. Because chewing can help you study better? You are pretty sure you heard that somewhere.

Opening the door, you find Kaminari and Sero looking at Bakugou with the most dumbfounded expressions you've ever seen.

"Oi! It's not that fucking hard-" Said Pomeranian was already fuming at the pair. "Just divide 78 from x and do it to the other side! It's literally the easiest question in the study guide!"

A small chuckle causes the edges of your lips to curl up in amusement with Bakugou's fit of anger as you sit down beside Mina and Kirishima, ready to fill out flash cards like your life depended on it.

For the next few hours you had tuned the yelling out so you could focus on what concepts you were sure you didn't get. Working with Kirishima and Mina was a breeze, although you felt bad sticking Bakugou with two boys who seem to have negative brain cells around one another. Managing a glance to the trio proves that it's the worst thing for Bakugou, the one of the three that not only looks like he might explode from anger, but could possibly explode. Averting your eyes to the clock, you almost gasp at the time.

No wonder you were feeling drowsy.

It was almost one in the morning. "Hey, hedgehog!" You call to Bakugou after a hefty yawn. "You got any of those energy drinks left?" The plan was to stay up all night tonight for a cramming session, although another glance to the two you were studying with proves that only one person was left. Unsure of when Kirishima left you shrug off the thought. He must need his manly sleep or whatever he calls it.

Wordlessly, Bakugou leans back to open a mini fridge behind him and grab an energy drink to toss to you.

He appears to be long done with the two boys sat beside him like lost puppies. Or at least his patience with them is completely shredded. Not to mention they didn't look like they could handle understanding any more information. "Kaminari, Sero, why don't you guys head to bed for a few hours?"

"Brain need sleep." Kaminari mutters, getting up and walking out the door without blinking. Sero follows him in a similar state, but still manages to say goodnight to the remaining three in the room.

You can hear Bakugou sigh in relief from the other side of the room as you look to Mina, fully intent on continuing with the flash cards you were quizzing each other with. Although, you find her with her hand covering her mouth as she yawns. "I'm gonna catch a few z's I think. But I'll be back around 8 in the morning." Granting her a smile, you nod, letting her head off to bed, although you were disappointed since you felt like you were making progress.

"Yeah, I'll be here, studying. Goodnight, Mina." Bakugou merely grunts in acknowledgment as Mina leaves you two alone in the room.

This definitely wasn't the first time you had been in Bakugou's room alone while studying. But it was the first time that you noted Bakugou was so.. tense. "Were the boys really that bad?" One of your eyebrows quirks in curiosity to his enhanced sense of irritation. A quick flash of red tells you that Bakugou is glaring daggers at you from your simple question.

"Tch. They're always bad." You note the roll of his eyes before the crimson hues land on whatever study guide he has in front of him.

Scooting your work so that the papers are sprawled closer to your study buddy, you lean against his bed, still laser focused on how frustrated he seemed. "And? You're normally more patient with them.. It takes at least two hours before your screaming, typically."

"Whatever."

    You click your tongue, deciding to leave the topic for the moment. "Can you quiz me on these really quick? I think I have them down by now." The stack of index cards you had filled out with Mina ends up on top of the paper that Bakugou is focused on.

    The blond makes a small noise of irritation and for a moment, you swear he's about to blow up on you.

    Instead, he neatly collects the index cards and sets them to the side of his own paper. "Yeah, I need a break first. Dunce face is exhausting."

    You nod, cracking open the energy drink you were given not to long ago while Bakugou does the same. Sighing contently, you can already feel the 300 mg of caffeine beginning it's work. "Want any snacks?" Looking to Bakugou, you point at your bag as you refer to snacks, knowing that he'd probably steal all of your Takis.

    It doesn't take long for him to find the sacred bag of spicy chips that he craved. "Thanks." He utters, settling down as he has himself a little midnight snack break.

    Both of you sit in silence for a minute and surprisingly, you aren't the one to break that bubble.

    Bakugou glances to you confusedly, something weighing on his mind. "What's the deal with you and that copycat bastard lately? I thought you two couldn't breathe without sucking faces every hour." He smirks, containing a chuckle. Really, he was relieved he didn't have to witness it for the past few weeks. The scene could make anyone uncomfortable.

    Your face flushes red in frustration at the mention of He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name.  Not able to bring yourself to look at Bakugou, you fiddle with a stray pencil on the floor.

    "We broke up."

    Keeping your tone curt, you make it clear that this is not a subject you'd like to discuss. In fact, it was the one thing that actually messed with you at this point. You hated that He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name had this kind of hold on you. A hold that distracted you and made you question whether or not you should go back to him.

    "He cheated on me." You decide to give further explanation to a speechless Bakugou, pretending to write notes on a mostly blank paper.

    "Shit- I-" He stumbles over his words, smirk falling.

    Offering a small smile, you finally look back at him. "It's fine... I only miss him for the stress relief anyways." Adding a small remark seems to put Bakugou back into his normal, non-sympathetic state.

    "Huh?"

    "He's a shitty boyfriend, but a good fuck." You put it into terms Bakugou would be more likely to understand. "Now will you stop eating the damn chips and quiz me on the rest of the flash cards."

    "Tch." A dusting of pink momentarily appears on Bakugou's cheeks, but he seems to ignore it as he picks up the index cards again. "Describe the Crime Control Theory."

"Pfft. That's easy." The remark leaves your lips before you really reach into the depths of your mind for the answer. "It's.." Oh no. Didn't you just go over that with Mina. "It's.." Trying to actually think about it makes you realize that your mind has been bombarded with the crummy memory of He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name, so, you huff and bullshit your way through the answer.

"It's obviously the theory that.. theoretically.. describes how to control crime?"

A scowl from Bakugou tells you that you most definitely have the answer wrong. "Are you really that much of a dumbass?" He says it so patronizingly that you're almost personally offended.

"Hey! It's not like that. I've just had a rough few weeks, alright? Give me a break." You pout. "Maybe if I help you study something I'll pick up something? What are you working on?" Reaching towards the blonde male, you grab the paper he seemed to be writing on previously, much to his own shame.

"What the fuck is this?" You don't mean to sound rude when you ask the question you're just shocked.

Instead of finding a paper with neat answers to question and nice notes in the margins, you discover that whatever work was on the paper has been completely covered with angry scribbles. Looking at Bakugou, you can tell that even he's disappointed in himself. His head hangs low and he can't seem to bring himself to look you in the eyes. "I don't fucking know! I was fine with geometry a week ago and.." He lets out an exasperated noise, hitting the back of his head on his bed.

"Somethings wrong with me. All I can think about it that shitty written final test and how I can't fail it. I need to be a hero but that means I need to graduate."

All that you find yourself responding with is a resounding laugh, so powerful that you're clutching your stomach.

"Oh my- Bakugou, do you hear yourself right now?"

Boom Boom Boy sends a piercing glare to you. "Shut up! Just forget I said anything, idiot!"

"That not what I-" You take a deep breath to stop most of your laughing. "I meant it's ridiculous for you of all people to be worried about these finals. You've literally been studying for this shit since you were a first year."

Bakugou's expression softens with your words.

"I can't help it. I just-" His hands comb through his spiky blond locks for a moment before grabbing and pulling large sections of his hair. "Gah! What is this?!"

"It's called stress, Bakubro." You finalize the statement with a soft punch to his shoulder. "Welcome to the world of normal emotion."

"I don't want it!" Bakugou abruptly puts his hands on the ground, looking overall agitated, like a child who doesn't want to go down for naps.

"There are ways to make yourself less stressed you know? In fact there's one word I can fit stress relief into: Fun." Both of your hands open dramatically in front of you as you say fun, hoping to get Bakugou in a better mood. He is your tutor after all and if he's too stressed to help, you're screwed.

    "Tch. Fun is something for kids, dumbass." He responds nonchalantly, rolling his eyes irritably as though you should've known that as fact.

    You smirk, stifling a chuckle behind your hand as you retort, "So you're saying that only kids have sex?" A small giggle echoes momentarily through the room from you as you appreciate Bakugou's dumbfounded expression.

    "You think I should have sex to relieve stress?"

    "Well... yeah? It's always worked for me and I'm pretty sure most people would agree with me." There's a long moment of uncomfortable silence that you sit in with Bakugou as he mills over what you've just said.

    "..." The blond hedgehog furrows his eyebrows as he thinks, finally gazing in your direction. "And who do you suggest I have sex with? It's not like I have time for a relationship when I'm gonna be the number one hero." This question throws you for a loop. And you consider the options that he has mentally before realizing there's a perfect option that you hadn't considered yet.

    "Why not just get a friend with benefits? That way it's just sex when you need it without the additive of romance."

    "You're still not answering the 'who the fuck would agree to that shit'?!"

    "Me." You deadpan.

    The explosive boy sitting next to you fumbles for his next wording in a stupefied manner. "S-S-Ser-iously?"

    Shrugging, you nod, locking onto his eyes with your own. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be serious? It's not like I want a relationship now anyways after that dumbass Copycat. Plus it's not just you that's stressed out over shit, you know?"

   Seemingly considering the option, Bakugou looks to his lap, biting his lip in deep thought.

    "Fine." He looks to you annoyedly, even though his body was certainly excited by the idea. "But first we probably need some shitty ground rules or something."

    "Agreed."

    "Don't tell anyone about what we do or I'll blow your ass up." Irate at the thought of Raccoon Eyes finding out about this and telling everyone, Bakugou subconsciously leans towards you. Not that you noticed.

    "Wasn't planning on it."

    "Any special rules you got?" A smirk plays at the corners of Bakugou's lips as he leans towards you.

    With Bakugou this close, you can feel your heart begin to beat a little faster with excitement. "Um-" In a couple spare second of clarity, you manage to choke out, "I might be on birth control but I still want you to use a condom."

    "Done."

    He responds coolly, leaning ever so much closer to you and letting his lips brush over yours before he shifts to whisper in your ear. "If we do this, I want the ability to fuck you whenever and wherever I like."

    Your breath hitches and you boldly decide to wrap your arms around Bakugou's neck as your eyes meet his crimson hues. "Just stay within reason.. and don't fall in love with me." You add another rule with a sultry tone.

    "You better not fall in love with me, dumbass." Bakugou hisses before connecting his lips with yours in a heated fervor. His hands attach to each side of your face, giving him most control over the kiss. You moan softly against him in response to his aggressiveness, your body already tingling.

    Up until this moment, you hadn't realized how much your body was craving to be this close with someone. It was enough to make you almost painfully aroused within the minute.

    Bakugou pushes you so that you're comfortably laying on the carpeted floor of his dorm room, with him directly between your legs. Your hands pull at his shirt, desperate to get it off right now. He catches on to the message quickly and pulls off his shirt in record time, still letting out a low growl of discontent when he had to pull away from the kiss. His lips meet back with yours, this time noting just how plush your lips feel against his.

    Scratching lightly over Bakugou's chest seems to rile him up some because within seconds, he's already rutting himself against your clothed core, the bulge in his joggers becoming very apparent.

     Gasping softly at the friction, you comb your fingers through his hair, pulling at a few tufts while Bakugou takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You can feel the slippery muscle glide sensually above yours, completely dominating your mouth before you even have the chance to defend. Wrapping your legs around Bakugou's hips, you grind against him. He groans and you decide to tangle your tongue with his in the hopes of winning the small battle.

    But before you can win, he pulls back, his pupils blown by so much lust that you can barely see the scarlet iris surrounding them. "Clothes off, now.." The husky tone of his voice sends waves of arousal straight to your core and you fumble to stand up while he digs through his draw for a condom.

    In record time, you've completely stripped yourself of clothing and laid on Bakugou's bed, which was exceedingly more comfortable that the floor. You feel yourself ache for some kind of pleasure and unabashedly open your legs to display your dripping core to Bakugou. "Bakugou.. please fuck me." You whine lewdly, being mindful of the fact that the blond has neighbors.

    He had expected for you to want more preparation but with the way you were strewn out on his bed, so deliciously begging for his cock... How could he deny your request?

    In an instant, his remaining clothes are discarded and the condom is rolled safely on his erection. In the next moment he's on top of you, lining himself up with your hole.

    Despite how much he wanted to shove himself inside of you immediately, he still took a moment to look into your eyes and ask, "Are you sure about this, (Y/N)?"

    "Yes!"

    You respond enthusiastically. "Please! I need your-" You are promptly interrupted by Bakugou thrusting into you unforgivingly, making you gasp with a loud moan. "Fuck!" Having him fully sheathed inside of you was unlike anything you've felt before. It was so pleasurable that you truly couldn't think of anything else.

    "Shit-" Bakugou balances himself above you by placing his hand just above your shoulders. He takes a moment to let you adjust to his size. Although, it's hard to control himself with how tight and warm you feel. He grimaces, hands crackling slightly with his quirk as he tries to slowly pull himself out of you and thrust back in.

    The next thrust pinpoints your g-spot, making you moan loudly beneath Bakugou. He smirks down to you, knowing exactly where he hit and intending to hit it again. Your hand grab at his back, stabilizing yourself as he drives himself against your g-spot again and again, finding a starting rhythm and gradually getting faster with his thrusts.

    Each rut from Bakugou tears an angelic moan from your throat. And even though he loves the sound, he ends up covering your mouth and leaning towards your ear while he picks up the pace. "Be quiet, dumbass." He reprimands. "You're gonna wake everyone up if you keep crying like that." His eyes look to yours from a moment and you nod to confirm that you heard him, your moans muffled by his hand.

    Soon Bakugou's hand is replaced with his lips as he kisses you roughly, his calloused hand tracing gently down your sides while he drills into you.

    Each of your moans vibrates against his lips, although you try to conceal most of them, in fear of someone catching you. You can feel Bakugou's hips stutter slightly against you and he moves his fingers down to your clit, rubbing circles while he thrusts even harder. You whimper pathetically at the sensation, your walls clamping down on Bakugou's cock as you reach your climax with him soon chasing after his own.

    He pants heavily, groaning as his hips still against you. Releasing into the condom, he rolls to the side to discard of the trash, tossing your clothes to you. He wiped himself off with a tissue and begins to dress himself before looking back to you with a smirk.

    "I think this 'Friends who have fun' thing is really gonna work, (Y/N). I feel better already."

    You smile, throwing on your shirt and underwear while still on the bed. "I told you sex was fun.." Hopping off the bed, you wobble ever-so-slightly before slipping back into your shorts. You nudge Bakugou playfully before settling on the ground. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

    Your eyes scour the ground for the index cards that you had been quizzing with previously.

    "Actually..." Bakugou begins speaking, making you look up to him. "We still have a few hours before the idiots come back." He gestures to the clock before looking at you mischievously. "And I think I should relieve a little more tension before dealing with them."