#every time i’m like what was my alternative. leave? start screaming?

[mydarlingmylifeandmybride]

Does anyone ever get bothered when someone (specifically an adult) thanks you for being so good about something when there was no other alternative for you than being good about it?

[jonathansthickthighs]

My Sweetest Heart 5: Yandere! Fushiguro Toji 𝐱 Reader (Toji’s POV)

Description: You had a one night stand with Toji and now he won’t leave you alone.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, female reader, toxic behavior, DARK CONTENT, GORE (slight), murder, jealousy, possessive behavior, stalking, desperate toji, slight smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), mentions of baby trapping, breeding kink?, daddy kink, masturbation, alternative universe (no curses), age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, toji is in his mid 30’s)

A/N: Greetings, reader. I wanna thank you for all the love you showed this mini series, I really really appreciate it <3. Without further ado, here is the final chapter! It’s a little different as it is written completely in Toji’s POV and it’s also slightly darker that the previous ones, so read at your own risk! Hope you enjoy :)

Italics = flashbacks

NOT EDITED!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Masterlist

You’re mine.

The instant my eyes landed on you, I knew that was my destiny— the sole purpose for my existence in this floating sphere we call Earth. From that fateful night onward, I became aware. I became aware of what a man truly in love is capable of. All things suddenly made sense, and I felt everything. The gentle breeze caressing my skin was almost like an imitation of your soft hand running through my tough-to-the touch skin. The sun kissing my face with the same passion as your tender lips. Those romance movies and novels I once detested now played endlessly in my mind, imagining it was us, living our own life as a happy couple.

You make me vulnerable.

Vulnerability used to be such a foreign feeling to me, not even experiencing it as a child. It makes me feel weak— you make me weak. But I’ve learned to accept this newfound fragility because I love you. This vulnerability, it’s truly a disconcerting sensation, like exposing an unarmored heart to the world— to you. You’re my world. You’ve taught me more about life than I could have ever imagine, something I wouldn’t expect from someone so young. At your age, I was nothing more than an ignorant boy who didn’t understand or cared about anything. Yet, in your presence, I’ve come to see vulnerability as a strength. Loving you has taught me that this feeling is not about weakness, but about trust and intimacy. Allowing you to see the depths of my soul and getting the same in return from you has made me find solace in those moments. I now embrace the beautiful feeling of vulnerability because thanks to you, it makes me feel like the strongest man alive.

I know I have one or two… loose screws.

I can be an incredibly jealous and territorial man when it comes to you. Insecurity floods my mind at any minimum interaction you have with a man, in particular men your age. No matter how much you reassured me on your desire to only be with me and my age not being an issue to you, there was always a little voice in my head that made me erupt. I know you had lost count of how many times I had caused a scene in public, getting all up in the other man’s face with threats of violence. You’d barely manage to drag me with out of the place, apologizing profusely as you begged the owners to not call the police on your problematic boyfriend. Remember those times? I’m deeply sorry, sweetheart, I’m aware of how much I embarrassed you. It wasn’t my intention, but each occasion I would spot a man eyeing you up, I couldn’t control myself from going ballistic. You are every man’s dream, a vision of beauty too pure for this ugly world. That’s why I can’t let them have you— I’m just trying to protect you.

Even when you didn’t like situations I put you in, I am certain you loved the aftermath. Pistoling my thick cock in your heavenly hole, claiming what’s mine always made my jealousy and insecurities dissipate. Your scream and moans only confirmed how much you enjoyed giving yourself to me. Make up sex with you was so intense and passionate, it almost made me want to start fights with you constantly. Your slick juices coating my cock was evidence of your arousal. You loved make up sex as much as I did. I can’t help myself from remembering how many times you moaned into my ear that me you belonged only to me, making my heart leap in joy. I stay up night after night reminiscing in those precious moments, those are memories I will always hold close to my heart and continue to long for.

“F-fuck me! This pussy is yours, Toji! I belong to you, only you!” Your whines were muffled by my hand placed on the side of your face, pressing your head into the mattress, thrusting my cock into your dripping cunt from behind. The way you moaned my name, telling me you were mine making my cock throb from the overbearing arousal. You could never fully grasp how you make me feel because it transcends anything this world could offer. It’s something beyond words, beyond earthly experiences, as if it belongs to a place untouched by time and space.

“You better not be lying to me, sweetheart. No other man can have you like this, this pretty little hole was made for my cock only!” Delivering a harsh slap to your ass, I could feel myself getting riled up at the imagine of another man seeing you in this position. It wasn’t your fault men wouldn’t stop throwing themselves at you, but I just wish you weren’t so fucking nice about it. Your kindness only encourages them and it makes me sick. It makes me feel like you like the attention and I’m not here for it. All your attention should be on me!

I continued spanking your now sore globes, hearing you let out whimpers, not able to identify if they’re from pain, pleasure or a mixture of both. I was so angry at you I couldn’t bring myself to care. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me. “Toji, I’m not lying. I’m only yours. P-please!” You sobbed and I felt my heart drop when I saw actual tears falling from your eyes. This is were I draw the line, if there was something I couldn’t stand was seeing you cry. Forcing myself to stop, I removed my hand from the side of your face to wipe your tears away gently, calling your name.

“No! Don’t stop! It feels s’good, Toji!” My eyes widened briefly, but I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped my lips. You were crying from pleasure. As much as I hate to see you cry, I can’t keep myself from thinking about how absolutely beautiful you look when you do. The way your skin glows, your eyes sparkle and your lips puff up is like a work of art. An art piece of incalculable value that nobody but me can admire.

“What a fucking slut. You like -hah- being punished don’t you, baby? You like being used by me.” I hissed as I started thrusting into your tight pussy fast and hard, loving the way your ass bounced with each rough stroke I gave you. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, your ass received another firm slap from my hand, making you cry out as your cunt clenched around me. Gods, your pussy is delicious. Nothing felt better than you. Our first night solidified our bond, the connection between us felt so strong I thought it to be impossible for you to not feel the same way.

I could tell by your constant clenching that you were going to release your delectable nectar all over my pulsing cock, which made a wave of relief wash over me as I’d been holding my own release from the moment I felt your slickness engulf me. I absolutely love coming inside you, but it’s a shame you’re on birth control. Those damn pills never cease to piss me off. My intention from the first time we had sex was to impregnate you. It mortifies me to admit that one of the main reasons I came inside you so many times that night was in hopes of baby trapping you so I’d be in your life one way or another, but now that you’re my woman I truly desire to become a father for reasons beyond tying you to me for life. I want to have a family with you.

“Are you gonna let me put a baby in you, huh, sweetheart?” I dare to ask you as I move my hand down to play with your swollen clit because I know how much you love it when I do.

“Yes, daddy! Please, fill me up.” I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back from the pleasure, you’re just so good to me. I knew your answer wouldn’t be as positive if my dick wasn’t inside you, but I enjoy the way you feed into my delusions when I’m fucking you, knowing you’d say yes to anything I ask as long as I’m rearranging your insides. Your little plea was all it took for me to paint your insides white, releasing rope after rope of semen hoping that this time you’d be part of that 0.1% of the cases where birth control fails. I felt you coming around me, milking me of all I had, squeezing me so tightly I felt as if I might be trapped inside you forever.

“I love you so much, Toji.”

You broke up with me.

The way you told me you loved me replayed in my mind every hour of every day since that moment. For the first time in my life, I cried. I cried in front of you, raw and vulnerable, and I begged you not to leave me. Despite my tears and pleas, you still walked away, leaving me with a hole in my chest. It’s a cold world, but I’d be lying if I said didn’t drive you to this point.

You found out. About everything.

You hadn’t heard from your friends in months and you weren’t aware of their reasoning for ignoring you so cruelly. You noticed they had blocked you, noticing your messages weren’t going through, the same as your calls. I knew you were thinking to yourself if ditching them a few times good enough reason for them to kick you out of their lives like you meant nothing to them. Years of friendship and memories down the drain because something as insignificant as this. It made you ponder if only you had managed your time more wisely maybe you would’ve still had their friendship.

I listened to you vent about it, trying to understand what you did to deserve this treatment. I was your shoulder to cry on. I had been nothing more than supportive towards you. In a matter of a few months I became your unconditional companion, the greatest reason for your happiness. I could tell you were developing an emotional dependence on me and I knew it startled you, but I liked it. Having you depend on me gave you another reason to not leave me and I would rely on that for as long as I could.

In spite of your growing dependency on me, you felt our love was too good to be true and that’s when you started digging.

You ran into one of your former best friends at the store and despite her efforts to avoid you, your feet strode towards her with unyielding determination and you confronted her. You could tell she was nervous. She had all the reasons to be. After our phone call, I decided that wasn’t enough to keep her away, so I had one of my… “coworkers” pay her a little visit, but only to give her a scare. Nothing serious, only a threat to end her life if she did as much as look in your direction. She’s a bad influence to you, doll, and you know it. Always going out clubbing, encouraging you to talk to men and to let them put their dirty hands on you. Always telling you that there’s nothing wrong with wearing revealing clothes in public like you’re some common whore. You know I don’t like it when you show off what’s supposed to be preserved for my eyes only. I can’t allow that type of friendship. Don’t you understand that’s how relationships get ruined? I’m just trying to protect you.

With hesitation, your best friend spoke to you, her fists gripping the handle of the shopping cart tightly. Her face twisted with pain as she began to speak, her words seemingly causing her physical discomfort. She told you everything, and you stood there, a perplexed expression on your face, unable to believe a words she uttered. You yelled at her for even attempting to tarnish my image in such way, and you have no idea how happy that made me. Yet, despite your anger, the hairs in your skin stood on end, a silent signal from your intuition urging you to believe her.

Remember the shaken feeling you got when I grabbed you by the hair the morning after we first made love, sweetheart? That’s exactly how you felt this very moment. But to my benefit, you were in denial. I knew she’d be a problem from the start and after all my efforts, she keeps getting in the way of our love. That stupid bitch. She went as far as telling you, through tears, that she feared for your life. As if I would do anything to hurt you. She even suggested fleeing from Japan with her. The mere thought filled me with simmering rage. I would never allow such a thing, and you were ever to disappear from my life because of her fault, I would search every corner of the globe, every hidden crevice, until I found you.

You stormed out of the store feeling agitated, trying to control your breath. I could tell you wanted nothing more than to stomp into my place to yell and scream at me, but to my surprise, you were calm when you arrived. You were so serene it was almost frightening.

That night you let me have my way with you, but it was different. The usual sparkle in your eye had vanished, replaced by a lifeless, hollow stare— I could barely get a moan out of you.

“Sweetheart, you seem out of it tonight. Is everything all right?”

I inquired, stopping my thrusts, concerned about your lack of emotion. I had always been able to read you, but this time I couldn’t decipher your thoughts. The only thing that I could think of was that you believed your best friend’s words, but what were you thinking about doing about it? Your confrontational nature had fooled me into thinking you’d touch the topic with me right away, but the way you were so inside your thoughts made anxiety bubble up inside me.

“I’m fine, Toji. I’m just tired. Let’s keep going.” You answered offering me a smile, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes like it usually did.

I can’t explain why I kept going, but I did. You started moaning, but to me—someone who has made you moan like a bitch in heat innumerable times— it was obvious they were fake moans. I could feel my body trembling from a mixture of pleasure and apprehension and I came inside you the same way I did every night. You didn’t orgasm that night. All you did was wait for me to roll off you as I held you with my face buried in your neck. I held you like it’d be our last night together. As soon as I moved away from you warm body, you rushed to the bathroom to take a shower as if you were disgusted about giving yourself to me.

“I love you, sweetheart.” I hesitantly said as I got up to walk after you, but the only answer I got was a door slammed in my face.

That night, I should have held you longer.

Hours turned into days, days turned into a week without a single word from you. My phone became a repository of unanswered texts and calls, each one a silent plea for your return. I wandered past your house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but it stood empty. Your absence was haunting me. No physical or mental torture I had endured compared to the pain I felt. Thoughts invaded my mind, did you actually go along with your friends’ plan and fled the country? Noticing all of your important belongings were still at your place, that couldn’t be a possibility.

I sighed deeply as I lay on your bed, the familiar scent of your shampoo enveloping me as the aroma clung to your pillows. I let my eyelids fall shut reminiscing in all the nights we spent together on this very bed, in particular our first. I couldn’t stop my cock from hardening at the combination of your scent and the memories. My eyes landed on your laundry basket, a black thong catching my attention. I recall the time you wore it for me, you looked absolutely immaculate in this little piece. I rose from the bed making my way towards it, gripping it tightly in my fist as I brought it up to my nose. My cock twitched as the ghost of your scent still lingered on it. This brought back old memories of the times I broke into your apartment before you even knew of my existence. All the countless times I sprawled myself on your bed, messing up your bedsheets as I masturbated to your scent. All those times I would orgasm merely from the feeling of your silky sheets on my bare cock as I would grind my hips against them.

I fell back on your bed as I continued to inhale what was left of your scent, feeling the tent in my sweatpants grow larger. Biting my lip, I pulled the waistband down, feeling relief as my erection sprung free from its retrains. I let out a shaky breath as I gripped the base of my cock. I missed you so much, going a week without seeing you, hearing your voice— a week without your touch, had been excruciating.

I stroked my cock slowly, trying to mimic the way you would tease me. “P-please, sweetheart. I n-need you.” I beseeched into the air, hoping that would make you somehow grace me with your presence. I proceeded to pump myself faster, using the precum that was accumulating on my swollen tip as lubricant, making my cock slick and shiny— only a mere imitation of how your juices coated it.

Running my tongue over the spot where your scent lingered, I squeezed the base of my cock to prevent myself from coming already. “I need to taste you, baby. Please, please, please.” I felt pathetic having to recur to these methods again, but the desperation you caused in me was mind-boggling. The stimulation was too much for me, I couldn’t hold it anymore. I removed your underwear from my face before I started stroking my cock with them, feeling it pulse, knowing those panties that were now touching my member, were once so close to your pretty cunt.

“Please, come back to me.” Wincing, I felt my cock throb painfully, my tone laced with exasperation. Salty tears welled my weary orbs, each drop a testament to the growing ache of your absence. The pain of not having you with me becoming unbearable with every passing moment. I can no longer endure not having you. It was in this moment that I saw clarity, I deemed taking drastic measures necessary if I wanted to hold you in my arms once more.

“F-fuck, baby. I’m gonna come! You gon’ take daddy’s cum?” I whimpered, feeling like my cock was about to burst from excitement. My movements were lacking coordination at this point and I rutted into my hand as my cum started tainting your panties, shivering as my toes curled at the delightful sensation something as simple as your underwear brought to me. Clinging to your sheets, I breathe as I attempt to control my breath, feeling my remaining tears subside.

As I continued to lay there I started getting flashbacks from our last day together. The day our relationship ended.

“We need to talk.” Your voice echoed through the room the moment you stepped into my place, and my heart leaped, its rhythm quickened with the weight of impending confrontation. You were finally ready to address what had happened at the store with your best friend. I had been dreading this moment, enduring all these agonizing days of anxiety. It was clear you had reached the end of your patience, unwilling to bear the mental turmoil any longer.

I cleared my throat, striving to make my voice sound firm as I feigning ignorance. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” I asked, summoning the courage to meet your face. My heart burned at the sight of your distressed expression on your face. I was so accustomed to seeing you always smiling so prettily at me that the contrast was a reminder of how big of a mistake I made. Perhaps I should’ve found a more subtle way to drive you away from your friends without causing this heartache.

You glared at me as you took a seat at the dining table, and I swallowed hard, sitting across from you. “Never did it ever cross my mind that I would have a conversation like this with you Toji.” You began, a deep sigh escaping your lips as you laced your fingers together in front of you. The disappointment and anger in your tone cut deep, but remained quiet as I allowed you to continue.

“You saw me cry and complain day after day about my friends and you knew. You knew the reason they stayed away from me, yet you still let me suffer.” You let out, your voice trembling with emotion.

“Sweetheart—“

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me. You’re not allowed to utter another word until I am done talking!” You demanded, raising your voice. My eyes widened in astonishment, for you had never spoken to me in that tone before. The look of betrayal on your face was unmistakable, and I knew it was all my fault.

“She told me everything you said to her that day on the phone, Toji. And you sent someone to threaten her too?! Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You exclaimed, disbelief etched across your face. I couldn’t meet your gaze, my eyes falling to the floor. I couldn’t bear to see the hurt on your usually bright expression. “Gosh, you can’t even look at me. I didn’t want to believe it, but the way you look right now is proof enough for me.” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head.

“And if that wasn’t enough, you already knew that I knew!” My mouth was agape. As those words left your lips, my heart plummeted to my stomach, and I was sure I looked like a deer caught in headlights.

What?

No, no, no.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that, sweetheart. You though you were so slick, didn’t you?” You spat, running a hand through your hair in frustration before continuing. “I saw you, Toji! You were following me and I know you heard our conversation. You knew I was aware of what you had done and fucked me right after I got home from the store like nothing even happened!” By now, you were full on sobbing and I felt a foreign tightness on my throat, as if it was closing up, making it hard to breathe.

It literally felt like a knot in my throat.

Wait, why does my face feel wet?

My eyes felt like they were burning. Salty tears were cascading down my cheeks as my chest tightened, each breath shallow and uneven. I could feel my face contorting with a mix of surprise and agony, muscles twitching involuntarily. After failed attempts to stifle the sob that rose from the deep within, it escaped. I felt a hollow ache in my throat and all I could see was a blurry image of you.

For the first time in my life I was crying.

“Really? You’re crying? This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me has it, Toji?” You inquired, a painful expression painted in your tear stained face. I couldn't keep lying to you any longer and I would most likely regret admitting to this, but I did. All I could manage to do was shake my head, making you burry your face in your hands as more sobs were released from deep within your chest.

“Fuck! How many times? How long?” You questioned, rising to your feet, slamming your hand against the table. I shook my head, refusing to answer as I bit my lips to prevent more cries to leave my lips. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I could only pray this was all a nightmare and that I would wake up from this torment in the morning with you cuddled up in my arms.

“Answer me! How. Long.”

I gulped hard, before mustering up the courage to say, “A while.”

You ran a hand over your face, before taking a deep breath. “W-what does that mean? How long exactly is “a while”?”

“A c-couple of months before we met—“

“Before we met?!” You jaw slacked, and you regarded me as though I hailed from another realm entirely. This entire ordeal forces me to entertain the notion that abducting you might have been a more merciful path to our togetherness. Initially challenging, yes, but eventually, Stockholm Syndrome would set in, and you would come to love me… wouldn’t you?

“Y-you’re t-telling me that night we met at the b-bar, wasn’t the our f-first time meeting?” You stuttered, nerves overtaking your body. Why did you look so scared of me? Hadn’t you realized by now I would never do anything to harm you? At least not intentionally.

All I did was shake my head before I standing from my seat, striding toward you. Your tear-filled eyes widened with fear as my towering figure loomed over you. You instinctively stepped back bumping into the kitchen counter, clutching the edges of it so tightly your knuckles paled.

“Sweetheart, there’s no need to be afraid of me.” I started gently, cupping your face in my large hand, eliciting a whimper from you. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done out of love.” And it was true. I knew I’d do anything to keep you by my side, feeling loved, cared for and protected.

“P-please, stop touching me, Toji.” You pleaded, your voice barely audible.

“Don’t ask me that, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.” I responded, my voice heavy with emotion. “At one point of my life, I felt undeserving of your love. I thought such an angelic, beautiful creature would never notice a scum such as myself. But that night at the bar, you approached me! You actually came to me! Oh, baby, I was over the moon.” I confessed, a tearful smile gracing my face as I recalled that pivotal moment.

“I knew from that day on that we were meant to be. My feelings weren’t one-sided, sweetheart. You love me just deeply as I love you.” You regarded me with a look that might have seemed incredulous to others, but I didn’t mind. I would do anything to be grazed upon by those breathtaking eyes wether they held love, hate, fear, or disgust— it didn’t matter, as long as they were fixed on me.

“No. No! Let go of me, you fucking creep!” Your sobs echoed through the room as you pounded on my chest, but I refused to release you, even when my heart ached from your insult. Wrapping my arms around your trembling form tightly, I pulled you closer, my grip firm. With a desperate resolve, I sank to my knees, unwilling to let you slip without a fight. If I had to beg for you to stay I would as much as necessary. Every line in your face contorted with pain, your eyes filled with tears that mirrored my own desperation.

“Please, sweetheart. Don’t leave me.” I pleaded, lifting my gaze to meet your grimacing expression.

Without warning, you swung a bottle of Sake from the countertop, striking me across the head with a resounding crack. Stunned and reeling from the blow, I staggered back, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected violence in your part. You fled, sprinting towards the door in a blur of motion and fear, leaving me behind.

I sighed heavily, sitting up on your bed as I rubbed my tired eyes. The events of that day kept replaying relentlessly in my mind, each replay sharpening the ache of uncertainty. You still didn’t know the truth about my occupation, and that haunted me. If you reacted so vehemently to me stalking you, I shudder to imagine your response if you discovered the full extent of my actions. How would you react to me being an assassin? How would you confront the revelation that I was not only stalking you, but taking lives for you, eliminating obstacles in our path to being together?

For now, there’s no need for you to know that information.

I am going to fix this.

Fix us.

I have to say, sweetheart, you really did a number on me with this one.

Who would’ve thought you’d be my most challenging bounty? Two whole weeks— that’s how long it took me to find you. Never in my life had I spent this long perusing a target, but it’s all right, I enjoyed the chase. I felt adrenaline I hadn’t felt in years, a blend of anticipation and thrill surged through me with each lead I followed. Each time I felt closer to you, my body vibrated in excitement. Even amidst my longing for you, the thought of even spotting you from afar felt invigorating.

Now that I found you there was no way I would allow anyone to separate us. Anyone including you.

You were currently passed out in the motel bed while I stood by the window smoking. The soft glow of your phone illuminated the room as I scrolled through your debit card statements, I noticed you had been hopping from one motel to another. Each entry told a story of desperation and fear, a relentless effort to escape from me. A pang of hurt pierced through me as I realized the extent of your actions. You were really spending all of your savings to get away from me? I had believe, perhaps naively, that you harbored genuine feelings for me. Yet, here was the undeniable proof of your running, of your desire to sever our bond.

It seems I was wrong. Love wasn’t something you felt for me, at least not yet. If you didn’t surrender your heart to me willingly, then I would have to take matters into my own hands.

Next to you, on the nightstand, I had bestowed a wonderful gift for you.

Your best friends’ severed little head.

In my desperation, I had gone to her apartment, to try to get information about you out of her. Yet that bitch kept refusing and refusing to cooperate. Each denial chipped away at my patience until there was none left. When it became clear that persuasion was futile, she left me no choice but to break into her apartment to get the information myself. Seething at the lengths I had to go to because of her obstinance, I rummaged through her belongings and electronic until I found a train booking to a town around two hours away when I looked through her laptop. It was definitely for you as it had been forwarded to your email. Dumb bitch.

That woman had an uncanny talent to get under my skin, so I got under hers. Literally.

Doll, if I told you I enjoyed making your friend scream in terror, it would be an understatement. I’m a man of my word. She knew what would go down if she ever came in contact with you again. I’m merely fulfilling my promise. I do have to admit that cleaning up the mess was a pain in the ass, but I withstood it— for you. I’m not even sorry for what you’re about to witness, it was time for you to see the real me. I tried to be better for you, sweetheart, I really did, but if m being honest, you bring out the worst in me. And I love it.

I wasn’t born to be good and you weren’t born to change that. Our fates were intertwined in a dance of contrast, but expecting you to turn me towards light was a fool’s errand. I am who I am and no one— no matter how pure— could change that. I can only wish for your acceptance and comprehension. No matter what you chose to feel for me, I would keep you by my side and show you the same love I always have. Because you’re the only thing I love in this wretched world.

I heard you begin to stir awake, small whimpers leaving your lips as the effects of the drug I had administered you started to fade away. A smirk crept across my face, flicking the remains of my cigarette out the window before striding to were you lay. You squeezed your eyes before slowly opening them, and I couldn’t stop my heart from surging with joy as our eyes met for the first time in weeks. Gods, I missed you.

Your eyes widened when they met mine, and you instinctively crawled back towards the headboard of the bed.

“Mornin’, sleepy head. Slept well?” I questioned as I watched you trying to writhe yourself out of the bed, bumping into the night stand making your friends’ head flop to the ground. Your eyes widened impossibly further and you let out a high pitched scream, covering your mouth with both your hands. “Sweetheart, you need to be more careful. I got this gift just for you and now it’s on the floor.” I tskd before lifting the head up by the hair, dangling it in front of you.

Harsh sobs started escaping your lips as you realized who it was.

“Why are you crying, doll? Don’t you like it?” I asked, feigning disappointment. You shut your eyes and I could tell you were praying this was all a nightmare, but I’m not a nightmare. I’m real and I’m here to stay with you. “Come one, settle down now, baby. You wouldn’t want anyone else to end up like her, do you?” You immediately shook your head. “Yeah that’s what’s I thought.” I said through a chuckle, before setting down the head on the nightstand once again. I sat down on the edge of the bed, itching closer to your trembling form. My hands reached out, cupping your tear stained cheeks. Your skin felt cold and damp beneath my touch.

“W-why a-are you d-doing this, Toji?” You stammered, your voice trembling with horror. You hugged your knees to your chest, trying to create some semblance of a barrier between us, your eyes wide and pleading for an explanation.

“Sweetheart, everything I’ve done for you is because I love you.” I explained softly, my voice laced with the usual tenderness I always addressed you with. “In order to protect our love I’ve been forced to turnt to these measures. It’s the only way to keep us together, to ensure that nothing and no one can come between us!” You were shaking your head in disbelief and I could tell you were starting to feel nauseous. Guilt started washing over me as I realized what I had just made you go through, so I offered you a sincere smile before saying, “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll get rid of it and she’ll be out of our sight forever.”

I planted a gentle kiss on your cheek, savoring the moment as I inhaled your intoxicating scent as I lingered there. I had never forgotten how addicting it was. A fragrance I had never forgotten, one that was engraved into my memory and haunted my dreams when you weren’t there. Every thing about you was intoxicating and if you were going to be the death of me, I would gladly allow you to kill me. If loving you meant risking everything, even my own demise, then I embraced that fate with no hesitation.

You are my addiction, my sweetest vice, my sweetest heart, and I willingly surrender to your enchantment. For in your arms, I found a love worth any sacrifice.

I grabbed you by the hair just like I did on our first night together, but this time with a firm grip. “Now, Reader, I’m gonna need you to make a decision.”

Are you going to choose to love me or am I gonna have to force you?

[melodygatesauthor]

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Four - The Student

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

This time I found you at a university. Of course things couldn’t just be simple. You couldn’t just be a faculty member or even a damn janitor, no…you had to be my fucking student. Why couldn’t things be easy just for once? It’s fine…I’ll just have to figure out how to work around it…

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 5k

It was a morning like every other.

You were on your way to your physics class, coffee in hand and your two friends on either side of you, Mira and Stacy. Mira had a skip in her step, excited about a guy she met at the coffee shop just a few minutes ago. You rolled your eyes, too concerned with the results of last week’s test in Dr. O’Hara’s class to be bothered with your friend’s endeavors.

“Hey!” Stacy screamed your name, grabbing your collar and pulling you back from the street and onto the curb.

A car flew by you, stopping your heart in your chest as you moved back from the street two more steps. You were so caught up in your thoughts you hadn’t paid any attention to the road. Stacy spat your name in a scolding manner.

“Jesus, you almost got yourself killed, what the hell are you thinking?” She shook her head.

“Thank you,” you said, taking a deep breath, “I guess I’m just…I’m so nervous about my test I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” she agreed, putting both hands on her hips like a parent scolding a child. “I’m sure you did fine on your test. You said you studied right?”

The three of you started walking again toward the building where your classes were held.

“Yeah, I did, but I mean…the last test I took I failed, I can’t fail again.” You felt dread weighing heavy on your chest as the large brick building blocked out the sun on your approach.

Mira patted your back. “You’re smart, I’m sure you did fine.” She chuckled as she jogged ahead toward the building. “Besides! I’m sure that Dr. O’Hara would let you suck his dick for a better grade!”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at Mira’s comment. She never ceased to say things that were embarrassing beyond belief. Everyone knew that Dr. O’Hara was hot. The man wore dress shirts, sure, but either he couldn’t find ones that fit properly, or he intentionally wore a size too small so people would know he worked out. It was hard to think about much else when his pectorals were so prominently displayed under a thin veil of fabric. It didn’t help either that his nipples seemed to be perpetually stiff, clearly visibly underneath his shirt, just like they were today.

“Good morning cl–”

Dr. O’Hara’s failure to finish his sentence caught you off guard, forcing your eyes on him as you walked the rest of the way into the room. You felt nervous, averting your eyes immediately and staring at the floor as you walked to your desk. After your friend’s inappropriate comment, and his lingering gaze, you couldn’t help thinking about things a student shouldn’t imagine about their professor.

Things like…what if you could suck his dick for a better grade?

He cleared his throat. “Alright class, I’m going to pass back your tests now.”

You’d done a fine job on your exam. Miguel’s predecessor, the Miguel of this universe, had already graded your paper and even put a little smiley face next to the number 87 in red ink. It was obvious that this one hadn’t made any moves on you, but he had taken a liking to you. That wouldn’t work in Miguel’s favor though. He needed you to be so desperate that you might be willing to go to great lengths to get your grade fixed.

The jealousy that stabbed Miguel in the gut when he realized that his alternate was enraptured by you made it easy to rid himself of the man. In fact, he felt nothing as he watched the life leave Miguel’s eyes. He felt nothing as he buried the man so far into the ground that no one would ever find his body.

It wasn’t that Miguel wanted to be predatory toward you, in fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was clear that you were younger in this universe than in previous ones. Your birth date was the same, he saw it in your records on the school database before he took over for your prior professor, but the year was different. He’d already gone through great lengths just to find you, so what was a little manipulation just to have you? You’d be grateful in the end, he just knew it.

He passed the tests around, watching you carefully to gauge your response to his little note he made at the top of your test. 

Come to my office after your classes so we can discuss your grade and your future in my class.

You looked down at the glaring 62 on your exam with the note to meet Dr. O’Hara in his office later. A pit formed in your gut. The words, ‘your future in my class’, stuck out more than the rest. You gulped, hands shaking as you put the failed test in your book bag and turned your attention back to class. You hated that professors seemed to do that, handing out your tests prior to the start of class. How in the hell were you expected to focus for the rest of the class with the looming threat that you might be told to retake the class next semester?

He felt a little bad after seeing your face drop at the sight of the failed exam. In some ways Miguel missed the therapist. She was bold, more mature, and he felt like she was, personality-wise, the closest to you he had found thus far. In this universe you were naive, young, bright-eyed and inexperienced. In some ways that was exciting, thinking about how easy it would be to mold you into the woman he’d lost, or at least as close to the original as possible. In other ways he didn’t love the idea of corrupting you like that.

It didn’t matter though, in the end as long as he had you, whether by moral means or immoral, that’s all that mattered.

Later that evening, shortly after finishing your final class for the day, you found yourself standing outside of Dr. O’Hara’s office, knuckles rapping on the door in an uneven rhythm. The sound of your heartbeat in your ears was deafening while you waited for him to open the door. Earlier you and your friends had joked about what you were going to do in there, but this wasn’t a movie, this was reality, and your professor wasn’t going to let you sleep your way out of a bad grade.

Not that you really wanted to do that anyway.

Your unusually tall professor opened the door, stepping back to let you inside. He was quiet when he locked the door, so quiet that you wouldn’t even notice he’d done it. You seemed a little smaller in this universe. Miguel wondered if it was because you were actually shorter, or if the fact that you were younger made it seem to be the case.

“I don’t understand why I got such a bad grade, Dr. O’Hara,” you turned to face him, failed test in hand, eyes already glistening wet with the threat of tears. “I worked really hard after you helped me understand it better.”

Fuck, he thought. His cock was already springing to life, slowly making his pants feel tighter while he looked at you. This was new territory that he didn’t know how to navigate. This wasn’t the type of person Miguel wanted to be, but he also wanted to start establishing his control over you now. If he could control you, he could keep you safe; he could have you.

“Yeah well, as you can see…” he snatched the test from your hand, “you didn’t do a very good job, did you?”

Something was different about Dr. O’Hara, you felt it as he ripped the paper from your hands. He was normally a very calm and collected type of professor, everyone loved him for that. You couldn’t understand why he was acting so harshly now. You clutched your book bag closer to yourself as though it would teleport you out of the room. He took a step closer, and you stepped back until your rear was against his desk. You felt trapped.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he said, seeing the terror in your expression. Miguel’s intention wasn’t to make you fear him, but at the same time, he was willing to do what it took to make you listen for once, since your alternates didn’t seem to pay his warnings any mind. “Look, I’d be willing to…fix your grade.”

He’d hoped that when he said it like that you would get the hint so he didn’t have to spell it out for you. Surely you’d seen enough pornos to know where this was going, right? It would make it less guilt inducing for him, and a lot less scary for you, at least that’s what he was thinking. 

“Fix it how? Is there extra credit?” You decided to continue on like you didn’t know what he was playing at.

“You could say that,” he said, taking another step toward you.

There was no way he meant what you thought he meant. He couldn’t possibly be insinuating that you were supposed to fuck your way into a better grade could he? That was just a stupid joke you and your friends had laughed about, albeit frequently, but it was just a joke. He couldn’t be serious.

You couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering down to his tight-fit slacks and the way they were especially tight around his groin. You gulped, looking back up at his eyes quickly, trying to appear not to have seen anything. Maybe if you kept your eyes anywhere but on his bulge it would go away, and he would let this go.

But you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Miguel took another step forward, bringing a hand to your cheek and rubbing his thumb along your skin gently. He smirked, feeling satisfied to touch you again. Spending all the time in the last universe, he’d almost forgotten what you felt like.

“I’m not going to hurt you, and if you just listen to me you might even enjoy yourself.”

No matter how much you told yourself to run, to kick, to scream, you just stood there while Dr. O’Hara leaned forward, claiming your mouth in his and melting into you. He lifted you onto the desk like you were weightless, pushing himself against you until he was almost laying on top of you. You kissed him back, but the rest of you was frozen, unsure how to respond. Should you even be allowing this to happen, or should you be trying to stop him?

What would you do anyway? Fight him off? The man was built like a damn tank. You could work out for a hundred years and still never come close to moving him. On the bright side, you would probably pass your class, though this wasn’t how you wanted to do it. This wasn’t what you wanted at all.

“P-please, Dr. O’Hara, s-stop–”

“Shh,” he whispered, kissing you deeper, “you want me to fix your grade right? You want to pass this class? Hm?”

He looked down at you, waiting for your answer, the guilt still nagging at him as he noticed a stray tear fall down the side of your face.

You nodded. “Y-yes, yes I do.”

“Then be quiet, and do what I say,” he demanded, sliding a massive hand up your skirt, his fingers teasing at the hem of your panties.

Your mind was racing with feelings you could hardly comprehend. On one hand, your body was tingling an overwhelming desire, a need to feel his touch in the most intimate way. His thick index finger tucked into the leg of your panties, knuckles sliding softly over your pussy lips. When he kissed you it didn’t feel like a dirty professor trying to take advantage, but rather a lover who wanted to take his time with you.

On the other hand, he was much older than you, and he was your professor. Not to mention the fact that you weren’t really interested in sleeping with him, despite the teasing from you and your friends.

That didn’t seem to matter now, he was pulling your underwear down your thighs and tossing them to the floor. He rubbed the pads of his index and middle fingers over your clit, forcing a choked whimper to escape your lungs. You thought about protesting his actions again, but decided against it. You didn’t want to piss him off, and you didn’t want to fail the class.

“There you go, honey,” he whispered against your lips, “don’t squirm too much okay? You’ll like it, I know you will.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to say otherwise. Dr. O’Hara pushed you down so your back was flat against the desk, his large hand pressed against your abdomen while his other started to undo his pants. You didn’t even want to look at it, so you stared out the window and kept your eyes trained on the gate at the entrance to the college campus. He exhaled a low and deep breath as he dragged the tip of his cock along your folds.

“Look at me, hermosa,” his voice was low, but still demanding.

You complied, turning your head slowly to look at him. Miguel tried to convince himself that you would come around, that you were just nervous for your first time together. He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t delusional either, but he needed to believe that you would come around, because working with the you that was right in front of him was better than the unknown of whatever versions he may encounter in other universes. ‘The devil you know’, and all that.

“Hold on tight, honey,” he warned, sliding his dick through your slick entrance. He couldn’t even make it halfway in before it was too tight. “F-fuck baby…shit.”

You cried out, all of your resolve falling to the wayside. It hurt, it hurt so fucking bad.

“Dr. O’Hara pleas–”

Before you could even finish your plea his hand was covering your mouth. He shook his head, eyes narrowing dangerously in warning. You tried to beg with your eyes, your small sobs blocked by the brick wall of his palm only serving to make his cock throb inside your cunt. You grabbed onto his forearm, gripping it so tight your nails dug into his skin, but it may as well have been a pillar, unmoving and sturdy while he kept your mouth covered.

“Honey, please,” he hissed, his breaths of arousal interrupting his irritated tone. “I know it’s painful now but if you just relax, I’ll stretch you out so it won’t hurt anymore alright?”

You didn’t respond, and Miguel felt the guilt in his chest. The guilt didn’t outweigh the delicious feeling of your hole squeezing around the mere three inches he’d managed to get inside. He slid forward a little more, your eyes rolled back in response, your breaths turned into labored panting while you took him further.

“You’re doing great, hermosa,” he encouraged, “taking me so well.”

Your legs tightened around his waist as your cunt stretched even wider around him. He was bigger than anything you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t get free from him. Finally he bottomed out inside you, when you looked down at where you were connected you could see a bulge in your abdomen. Your eyes widened in fear, as though seeing it made it feel that much bigger.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he cooed, rolling his hips back and then snapping forward again, forcing a guttural groan to erupt from deep within you. “That’s it, fuck, so tight-that’s-it.”

Miguel established a steady rhythm that was made easier by how wet your little hole got. At least you’re physically enjoying yourself, he thought to himself, still trying to ease the guilt brewing inside him. His free hand grabbed onto your thigh, leveraging himself even deeper. The sight of his fat cock bulging up through your stomach made him harder, if that were even possible. He thought, for only a second, about the fact that you might not be on birth control, but then decided he didn’t really give a shit.

Your makeup was ruined, black rivers running down your cheeks while you cried even harder. When Miguel looked down at where your pussy was split around his dick he could see why, you’d made a bloody mess between both your bodies. He questioned why he thought that was hot. Causing you pain shouldn’t feel that good, but it did, the sight of your blood making his pace even faster.

“Didn’t know you had such a little pussy,” he breathed between thrusts, “so tight, so-wet-fuck.”

When Miguel thought about it, the two of you - himself and you from the original universe -, never got that rough. It wasn’t something he knew he would like, having power over you like that, causing you pain and listening to your cries. Hearing you whimper now though, laying on his desk with your legs wrapped around him while he split you open, was making him feral. If making you cry was bad, then why the hell did it feel so fucking good?

“Are you going to come for me, honey?” He asked in a low whisper.

You didn’t answer, you just kept your eyes on his, a silent prayer that he would stop. He couldn’t stop now though, he was so damn close.

“Next time m-maybe, holy-shit-fuck-fuck-FUCK!”

His hips snapped forward, stuttering and halting against yours. You felt the searing hot ropes of his spend while it spilled inside your walls, cock throbbing and stretching you further with every spurt. His breathing was deep, low, and you guessed that if he weren’t afraid of being caught he would be much more vocal. He tossed his head back, using the hand that was on your hip to push his hair from where it fell into his eyes.

Once he was finished, Miguel released your mouth, the post-orgasm clarity making his guilt take over tenfold.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling out of you, the sudden feeling forcing a quiet cry from your swollen, trembling lips.

You didn’t speak. Now that he was finished you didn’t have words to say. What could you say? ‘You’re a monster’? ‘How could you do this to me’? ‘Why would you do this to me’? None of his answers would matter, and part of you still wondered if you’d asked for it some way. What else did you think your professor wanted you to come into his office for after all the classes had ended for the day? The red flags had been waving in your face and you ignored them. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you wanted this all along.

—

“Good morning handsome,” you said, laughing and wiping a bit of spit from Miguel’s stubbled cheek, “you were out. Having a good dream?”

—

Miguel shot up in bed, quickly realizing that he was dreaming, the reminder of that day still so fucking clear in his mind.

He looked at the calendar sitting above the coffee maker in his apartment. Well, his apartment. It had already been four long weeks that he’d spent in that universe trying desperately to get you to like him. He could tell by the look on your face though that you were still terrified of him. 

He wondered if he should just leave, call it quits for this universe and move on to the next one. Miguel couldn’t shake the probability that something might be worse in the next universe though. What if he traveled there only to find that you were already dead? What if the next ten universes took him years to get through and eventually he was too old to keep looking for you? No matter how he looked at it, logically speaking, it was still better to try and work with the you in front of him, than to risk the unknown.

You couldn’t put into words the way you felt when you saw Dr. O’Hara every week in your physics class. You started sitting toward the back, hoping some other girl might grab his attention instead, but it never worked. He continued to summon you to his office in the late evenings, and he continued to fuck you until you could barely walk your way out of his office.

He terrified you.

And that terrified him.

“Dr. O’Hara,” the head of student affairs walked into Miguel’s office, pushing the already ajar door open and stepping inside.

“Oh, hi, Janice,” Miguel said, feeling his body become tense.

You better not have opened your fucking mouth, he thought.

“One of your students…” your name coming out of her mouth made him start to sweat, “...came to me and said she would like to drop out and take this class another semester. She said it doesn’t fit into her schedule right now so we need you to sign–”

“Halfway through the semester?” He asked, tone sharper than he intended. “No. She’s doing so well it would be a mistake.”

“It’s not really up to–”

“What’s the cutoff date for this kind of thing? Isn’t there always a cutoff date?”

“This Thursday is the–”

“No.”

“You don’t really have a choice.”

“Let me talk to her.”

The woman sighed, handing him the paper, “I think it’s a mistake too, for the record. It would be a shame to have to do all that work all over again.”

The woman left, the sound of her clicking heels fading as she walked down the hall. Miguel looked at the sheet of paper, hands shaking as he looked down at your signature. There it was. The same signature on your fucking marriage certificate, right there, telling him that you’d had enough and wanted to leave him. 

He slammed his office door and walked over to his bag, the one where he kept your wedding photo. He hadn’t looked at it much since he’d left the original universe. The image of the two of you together brought him nothing but pain. He wanted you back so badly he was willing to rape a poor college girl that looked just like you in order to live in a fantasy that, deep down, he knew would never really hold a candle to the reality he once had.

Looking back he remembered the day of your wedding, the way you looked took his breath away. He was still mad that the therapist hadn’t worked out, if only she’d listened. Even the barista wasn’t too bad. She was a bit mouthy, but…no, he couldn’t stand the damn barista. She was a lost cause the moment she broke up with him.

Something told him that this version of you, the student, wasn’t going to work out from the beginning. He wanted it so badly though. When he tried to imagine a world where he could be happy with that version of you, he couldn’t. Even in the event he was able to convince you to marry him, or hell, even go on a date with him, he knew it would be all done in fear. You’d never look at him the way you did. 

You would never love him.

You startled him when you opened the door to his office unannounced. You could tell because he scrambled to put something into his bag as you entered. His gaze was still so harsh, and you thought maybe you shouldn’t have come at all, but you were afraid your consequences would be harsher if you ignored his long standing request to meet him in the office during the evenings. You closed the door behind yourself, knowing that he would probably do it anyway if you didn’t do it yourself. 

This is the last time, you thought. You do this one more time and then you’re done.

You hoped that by giving him what he so clearly wanted from you one last time, and perhaps being mature about it, you could convince him to let you go.

“D-Dr. O’Hara I–”

“You’re trying to drop out of my fucking class?” He snapped, eyes shooting spears through you.

You gulped, stepping toward the door, immediately regretting closing it behind yourself.

“W-well yes but I came to, um…well I thought we could–”

“Thought we could what?” He asked, standing quickly.

Regardless if you’d never love him, he was going to have to work with what he had, and right now he had a crying twenty something in front of him who was willing to do anything he said.

“We can do it just one more time and then I want to leave your class,” you whispered.

Dr. O’Hara strode over to you slowly, each step a booming quake that tore through what little determination you’d had when walking in there. He grabbed your jaw in his hand, leaning forward so his lips were against your ear. You hated that your body had become conditioned to react pleasantly to his touch, a tingling sensation spreading down to your core.

“What did you say?” He hissed against your ear.

You couldn’t speak. You wanted to repeat yourself. You wanted to convince him that this was what was best for both of you since getting caught would surely end his career. No matter how much you willed yourself to speak though, not a fucking word came out. The only sound you made was a pathetic whimper, a dumb little sound that you knew he liked; he always moaned whenever you made it. 

“That’s what I thought, hermosa,” he whispered, “you can come back to my office tonight, and I’ll take good care of you like I always do, hm?”

He let go of you and stepped back, eyes scanning over your body and taking it all in as he had so many times before.

“Well, I-I can’t come tonight,” you admitted hastily, as though you might choke on the words if you didn’t spit them out.

“Why?” Dr. O’Hara’s eyes snapped to yours.

“Well my friends and I were going out tonight and–”

“No,” he said firmly, “you’re coming back here.”

Perhaps he’d said it too harshly, but knowing that there was a good possibility that this was the night of your death, your ‘canon event’ as he’d taken to calling it, he couldn’t risk you leaving his sight.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the dark glare in his eye told you that arguing was futile. It was clear that whatever this had started as, an exploitative endeavor, had turned into some sort of obsession that you weren’t going to be able to get out of easily.

“Please,” you mouthed, keeping your eyes on the floor.

He couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so much guilt. Could he really keep this up? Would he really be able to spend the rest of both your lives looking into your fearful eyes and convince himself that it was alright? As long as he had you it didn’t matter if you were a little afraid…right?

“I know this is hard for you to understand, so I’ll make it simple for you,” he moved to grab you, but you slipped under his arm and started backing away.

“Stop doing this, please,” you were trying to get away from him now, another sign that this was probably a dead-end universe for him.

Miguel couldn’t imagine much worse than you being dead, but you feeling so afraid of him that you died trying to get away from him was right up there. He wondered if closing his oversized office window would’ve still resulted in your demise that night.

“Honey, I’m sorry, if you can just come here and have a seat we can talk–”

“No!” You yelled, continuing to back up, the open window at your back.

Miguel took a step forward.

“I’m not going to hurt you, let’s just–”

“You already did!” Your lips were trembling, your whole body was tense, “Stay away from me!”

“Mi vida, please!”

He watched you hit the low-sitting window sill. The school would get sued, no doubt, for not putting a screen, or at least some form of safety precaution, in place to prevent your fall from three stories up. He looked over the window sill, watching the blood spread from your body outward, covering the pavement below.

Miguel genuinely felt bad. He didn’t know if it was because he felt like he was losing you again. No, this wasn’t really like losing you. This felt more like guilt around causing the death of some college student who happened to look almost exactly like you, but she wasn’t really you.

In all honesty, appearance was the only thing this girl had in common with you. So Miguel wouldn’t shed a tear for her, though he would hold on to the turmoil he’d caused you in that universe for a while. He’d wear it with him to the next one, like a pin he’d collected as a souvenir. That thought actually made him laugh. It was the laugh of a man gone mad, but a laugh nonetheless.

Maybe by the end of his journey he’d have a whole stash of pins. Perhaps he’d be so weighed down by them that he wouldn’t be able to move anymore. It was entirely possible that a suitable replacement didn’t exist, and that maybe he’d never find the perfect one.

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same time, next week? | c.fisher x reader

a/n: inspired by the tiktok trend! might MIGHT turn this into a mini trilogy but not too sure yet so let me know what you think!

warnings: fluffy but kinda sad:(

—

summer was quickly coming to an end, saying goodbye to a few of our new friends we made this summer as they return back to their home. cousins was always a place associated with fun and the carefree life. from waking up at dawn to catch the sunrise, being at the beach all day, family barbecues, parties every night, and to do it all with my best friends.

my mother, elisa, used to come to cousins every summer with her family and she immediately became friends with the girl next door, susannah, and her best friend, laurel. the three of them would always spend every moment of the three summer months together in cousins before leaving back to their normal lives.

cousins was almost like an alternate reality, where everyone is happy. where summer love is born and new friendships are made.

once my mom inherited her parents’ summer home, we started coming to cousins every june until the end of august. just like how she used to do it when she was younger, it was to continue the family tradition and i hope i can show my children too.

luckily, susannah had also inherited her family’s summer home and was still in very close contact with her two best friends.

i basically grew up with conrad and his younger brother, jeremiah. conrad and i were born in the same year, only a month apart. we were destined to be best friends since we were in diapers.

i’m also very close to laurel’s kids, steven and belly. moreso with belly than i am with steven since her and i are the only girls out of the five of us. she was a few years younger than me and honestly, she’s like the little sister i never had.

currently, i was lounging on the beach chairs by the poolside of the fisher’s home. conrad had his head on my lap, quietly napping and enjoying the summer warmth. i had one hand playing with his golden hair while the other flipping the pages of my book.

jeremiah, steven, and belly were all playing in the pool, the occasion yelling and screaming coming from them. they all had smiles painted upon their faces,

“y/n! get in!” jeremiah yells at me, splashing water in my direction. i use my book to cover conrad’s face in hopes that he won’t wake up,

“maybe later!” i say back to him, “i can’t really get up right now anyways.”

steven shrugs, “just push him off.”

belly gasps and hits her brother, “that’s so mean! but seriously, y/n, i’m leaving the day after tomorrow and you leave on tuesday next week.”

“i know” i sigh, part of me knows that there’s a chance i won’t be back in cousins with my favourite people for a long time. with college coming up and moving across the country to go to stanford, i knew that i couldn’t visit them as often after this.

nobody except for my mother knew, and i made her swear to not tell a soul that i had accepted my offer to stanford. especially the fact that i won’t see them all for possibly years.

“kids!” laurel calls out from the window, “dinners ready!”

the three from the pool scream as they all shove each other, trying to get out of the pool quickly. i gently shake my best friend awake, “connie, dinner”

his eyes flutter open, he rubs the sleep away, “okay.”

he offers me his hand when i stand up, which i gladly take. i feel butterflies in my stomach from the physical touch from him.

conrad has a soft hand on the small of my back as he guides me into the familiar home. we all sit around the large dinner table, all passing the delicious looking food around. i have conrad on my right and jeremiah on my left.

“y/n,” my mom says, i look up to match her gaze. the second i do, i see what she’s silently hinting at.

tell them.

i shake my head, swallowing the spoonful of mashed potato in my mouth, “no, mom”

jeremiah lifts an eyebrow at me, “she didn’t even say anything”

steven nods in agreement, his mouth full of food. laurel and susannah both look at my mother, trying to read her face,

“come on, honey.” she pleads, “you owe it to them”

this caught everyone’s attention, all eyes on me.

“what’s going on?” belly asks, placing her fork down, “mom?”

laurel shrugs, “i’m not too sure, bels”

i sigh, putting my hands onto my napkin covered lap. i didn’t want to tell them, but i also knew that i should,

“i’m going to stanford.” i tell them, after moments of confusion and silence.

susannah jumps up from her seat and runs over to my chair to squeeze me, “oh my goodness, y/n! that’s incredible news! congratulations, sweet girl!”

laurel was right behind her, “awh, my second baby! i knew you could do it.”

“wait, so why were you so hesitant on telling us?” jeremiah says as he hugs me, “this is good news!”

i frown slightly, “it’s easier for me to stay there for all four years, rather than flying back and forth for the summer…”

it took them a moment to digest what i said before steven pushes his chair back from the table,

“no, you aren’t saying…” he pauses, “you’re not coming back next summer? or the summers after that?!” steven exclaims, “what about christmas?!”

i shake my head, “flights are too expensive, i can’t”

i look over to conrad, who’s eyes haven’t left me since i broke the news. his expression was unreadable.

belly had a tear running down her cheek, “so, tomorrow is goodbye then?” she whispers, “we won’t be able to see each other until you’re done…”

“yeah, tomorrow is goodbye” i slowly nod, “my mom is planning on coming to visit so maybe you guys can too?”

jeremiah grins, “of course we will! i cant stay away from n/n for that long, i can barely handle a school year without seeing you!” he laughs, even though there’s evident sadness in his words.

“i’ll be sure to bring connie and jere to visit, honey” susannah promises me, “congratulations again”

i smile at her before everyone resumes to eating their food and making small conversation. i look back at conrad who’s playing with the food on his plate, i grab his hand under the table and squeeze it.

he looks at me and i ask, “beach after?”

dinner wrapped up quickly, steven and jeremiah getting ready for one last party of the summer — conrad and i agreed to go a bit after them.

conrad has his hand wraps around mine as we walk down towards the water, our arms are swinging while he laughs at some joke i made. we sit on the sand and watch the sun slowly lower into the horizon. we don’t say much but it’s never needed when it’s us two. we enjoy the comfortable silence and each other’s company.

i rest my head on his hoodie covered shoulder, him resting his head on mine soon after. he kisses my hair softly, “so stanford?”

i sigh, “yeah, stanford”

i can feel him smile, “congrats pretty girl”

my cheeks blush at the nickname, but i say nothing. all i want is to stay here with him on this beach we grew up on, forever.

“i always love the sunsets here,” i say, finally breaking the silence, “i swear they’re so much better here than they are in maine.”

he laughs, “i think i like them better here, because then at least i can watch them with you. back in boston, all the sunsets remind me of you.”

“you’re so cheesy” i giggle, gently shoving him with my shoulder.

he rests his cheek on his crossed over arms that are on his bent knees. he looks at me with sadness in his eyes, “same time, next week?”

i feel my eyes starting to water from his question, fully knowing that we don’t know the next time we’ll be able to do this, “im not here next week” i whisper out, tears crawling down my cheeks.

conrad has never been much of a crier, i think i’ve only seen him cry three times in my life. but right now will add to that count as a few tears fall from his eyes,

“im going to miss you so much, pretty” he tells me with his lips quivering, i reach over to wipe the tears off his face with the sleeve on my sweater.

“we can call anytime, okay?” i reply, giving a sad smile, “we always text each other too, but whenever i want to hear your voice, i’m going to call you.”

he chuckles, “so i guess i’ll be calling you 24/7”

i move closer to him and he wraps his arms around me into a tight hug.

“i’m not sure what summers are going to be like without you, y/n.”

“i don’t even want to think about it”

as the sun disappears beyond the horizon, we slowly get up to head back to our rooms to get ready for this party. my phone was blown up with snaps and text messages from jeremiah and steven, begging us to come and join them. one last summer party with them, one last chance to watch steven get black out drunk, one last opportunity to say goodbye to my summer friends, and only a few more sunsets to watch with conrad.

[btsvt-bar]

I’m imagining Hoshi sneaking under your desk at work to eat you out while you’re still trying to work. Bonus points if he keeps going even when another member shows up to your office looking for him!

i actually went insane while writing this. i hope you like it ♡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

you work in the creative team at hybe, that's how you first met hoshi.

of course you knew who he was, you're always into kpop. so you tried not to freak out and played it cool when he approached you and your older sister, who worked there too.

"noona! long time no see!" he greeted her happily. "i'm hoshi, nice to meet you." he bowed a little when talking to you.

you mimicked his actions. "Y/N, nice to meet you too." "hoshi, this is my little sister. she's working with us now." your sister said with a proud tone, making you blush. "oh, that's nice! welcome to the team." "thank you!"

you felt really shy talking to an idol, but hoshi was always sweet and he kept greeting you every time you met. he introduced you to other members and, eventually, you started to have coffee together.

you never imagined that two years later, you'd be dating him.

and you also didn't expect that he would show up to your office, after hours, and beg you to eat you out.

"soonie, we're at work." you ponder. it's past 11pm and almost everyone went home by now, but you can't risk it. "also, i have to send this in by 12."

"baby, please. i'm really horny and i need to taste you." he just finished practicing for seventeen's new comeback and came straight to you. "i promise it'll be good."

you give in when he gets on his knees. hoshi approaches you with a wicked smile and hides under the desk. you slide down your chair and he opens your legs with his warm hands.

"keep working, baby. you have a deadline to meet." he smiles smugly at you when you tilt your head back as he distributes small kisses and licks on your thighs.

you bunch your skirt up and help him take your panties off. you're trembling in expectation, thinking you actually went insane by allowing him to do this.

but then his tongue licks on your clit and your mind goes blank.

he licks and sucks your wet cunt with passion. you buck your hips and your thighs involuntarily close around his head, so hoshi grips the flesh so hard you're sure you'll have bruises.

every time your eyes meet hoshi's, you feel more slick pouring out of your hole. and with every flick of his tongue you have to stop yourself from screaming.

he drags a finger over your slit and you tremble. his tongue worked you up enough that he easily slips two fingers into you, lips wrapping around your clit.

that's when someone knocks on your door, and you gulp down the loud moan trapped on your throat.

"tell them to come in!" hoshi whispers and goes back to what he was doing. you try to look like you were working, yet you're sure you just looked messed up.

"co-come in!" you shout and Woozi appears.

"hey, Y/N! have you seen Hoshi? he's supposed to give me a ride home." the man smiles at you.

you grip the edge of the desk, trying to keep yourself grounded. your heart is beating so fast and it seems like hoshi only works faster. he keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth.

"I'm n-not sure." you stutter, afraid of talking more and end up moaning.

"hm. weird. I assumed he came to see you, but maybe he's waiting for me in the team room." he comments and you nod, wanting him gone. "are you ok? you seem a little pale."

of course Hoshi doesn't let up, instead he starts to caress the soft spot inside your pussy. you take a deep breath before answering. "Ju-just tired."

"it's late, you should go home. and that's coming from me." Woozi chuckles and you try to follow along. "anyways, whoever finds him first, calls the other."

"yeah, will do." you reply and he leaves, remaining unsuspicious that his friend was right there.

Hoshi detaches from your pussy as soon as the door closes. "you heard him, baby. can you cum for me, so we can go home?"

your entire body feels like it's melting. Hoshi starts to fuck you with his tongue and uses his fingers to play with your clit. soon enough, you allow the knot on your stomach to be untied and cum all over his face, thick globs of arousal coming out for him to lick and gulp down like it's the best drink ever made.

his mouth is glistening when he comes up for air, his lips sporting a proud and satisfied smile. you pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"let's go home so i can fuck you." Hoshi declares and you whimper, wanting him immediatly. "Jihoonie's waiting, and you need to finish your e-mail."

you never typed so fast in your life.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・

© btsvt-bar, 2024

m.list ♡

[gillthorpe]

distracted, xavier thorpe

xavier thorpe x reader

summary: xavier couldn’t help but do what he wants to do

warnings: it’s literally just fluff, use of baby?

a/n: first fic, please be nice. Apologies for any grammer mistakes oops

☆

You could feel his eyes on you every now and then, alternating between his homework that he held up with his hand and you who’s sitting across from him. You didn’t bother to look up, putting all your focus on the essay you had to write as homework.

The library was quiet, only the sound of you and Xavier’s pen scribbling on paper and the occasional sniffing. You and Xavier would always go to the library to finish up the homework you two have for the day. It was your routine even before you and him started dating.

Unfortunately, Xavier isn’t the most responsible student. He would often goof around, trying to distract you and would do anything but his homework.

Today was no different.

“And… done!” You sighed, dropping your pen onto the table and leaning back against the chair. You let your eyes relax for a moment before peeking to see Xavier still focused on his homework. “Are you almost done?”

He bit his bottom lip, ignoring your question, too wrapped up in his work to answer you.

“Maybe we can swap our essays and spot if there’s any mistakes?” You asked, pursing your lips as you wait for Xaviers response.

He hummed absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving his notebook. You smiled, admiring your boyfriends pretty features when he concentrates. You were proud to see that he was actually putting in effort on his work.

Xavier finally stopped writing, placing his pencil down and picking up his notebook and admired it before giving himself a content nod.

You bounce eagerly, “Can I read yours?”

His eyes finally met yours, a hint of mischievousness behind those eyes. He smirked, clearing his throat as he sat up straight and swapped notebooks with you.

You were practically gleaming with excitement, excited to read his essay and actually feel like you have a real study partner to learn and point out mistakes with.

Until your eyes landed on his notebook.

Your smile has never dropped so fast. Your shoulders dropping, and you couldn’t contain the gasp that left your mouth.

A snicker came from the man you were about to murder.

“Xavier Thorpe I swear to fucking god—“

“—I love you, baby please—“

“—All this time I thought you were writing the essay—“

“—You’re so pretty I couldn’t help it—“

“—And you were drawing instead?!”

You stared at him incredulously, your nose flaring at him due to how pissed off you were. He was enjoying this, his cocky smile still plastered on his face as he laughed at your reaction.

“I’m sorry, baby. In my defence, I did try to write the essay. I just got distracted…” Xavier said, his hands holding yours as his thumbs rubbed your hands softly.

You blinked at him, sighing as you look down at his notebook to see at the top right hand corner he did wrote a few words before giving up.

“As much as I want to scream at you right now, this drawing is beautiful,” you sighed with a small smile, studying his artwork.

It was a drawing of you reading your textbook, you nose scrunched and your hair a mess. He managed to enhance your best features, capturing every little detail about you. He was truly talented.

“Thank you. Please don’t be mad, i’ll start on the essay right now,” he said softly, ensuring you aren’t upset with him.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him, sighing loudly. “You better do it or no cuddles for you tonight.”

You ignored his protests as you get up from your seat to find a book to keep you company. Safe to say Xavier was diligently doing his work with a determined face, and within thirty minutes he was done and started begging you for a hug and a kiss.

[amurih]

Fuck it ima put it out anyway.

COTL AU where instead of staying in the cult Narinder leaves and builds his own little plot of land that becomes a rare occurrence you find while crusading through the different biomes post game.

Like it starts off when the lamb like spares Narinder and he’s like sent to the cult. And is in such a state of shock and bewilderment of what just happened that he doesn’t really know that the lamb is setting up their wedding until he’s at the alter. And he just SNAPS. To trade one prison for another? And to be stuck with the same being that not only took your crown, but your title as the god of death as your jailer? No thank you. Proceeds to walk out while the service is still going.

(I’m not the kind of person to think that he would be murdering or plotting to kill the lamb at every turn or possibly. No I would think that Narinder is smart enough to realize that he cannot fight the lamb in the condition that he is reduced to.)

Anyway, I want Narinder to experience life post-godhood by himself outside the cult. Maybe progressing over time you see how his plot of land develops into a pretty nice home for himself complete with a garden and an actual building/house. Not a hut, but an actual house.

All the while the lamb is going through it. It’s normal game play like one would post Narinder fight. Lore, upgrades, reviving the bishops, mystic seller, etc. All the while experiencing the highs and lows of ascension. I think the lamb would ask the other bishops once they get indoctrinated of how they went through their ascensions went. Only they would tell them that each went through theirs differently, so in the end it wasn’t really helpful.

So going through a process that you have no idea how to get through and the only person who does has fuck off into the land and hates your guts. Really fucking sucks man. So they try to “catch” Narinder while out crusading. Only they don’t find him physically, they find his place of residence while he is away.

I thought of a way to incorporate the quests that Narinder gives you when he is usually established in the cult. Could still be used: like there’s a book left on a table where you could peak in and see what’s going on with the cat that is currently away from his house.

“ I should head to Darkwoods and see if I can find more materials to build that fence and make more paper. Moving materials from one abandon home stead to this place has been challenging enough. My arms hurt after years of being bound to one position for so long...I wonder if camellias still bloom there now that Leshy is gone? If not I’ll have to develop a new alternative for this persistent strain and sharp pains I keep having. Got to get these walls up before it starts raining.”

“Bah! There’s not enough food at the last abandoned settlement let alone seeds. It’ll take long of a walk all the way to smuggler’s cove just to see if that sea louse got any thing. And it hasn’t been that long since the depletion of fish at pilgrim’s passage. I would have just stuck to what vegetables and berries I’ve got growing, but some animal or heratic keeps getting into my garden and stealing my food!when I find the person or thing that is stealing from me I’m going to make them into my fertilizer. In the meantime I should look into Anura and see if those foul mushrooms are still there. If I remember they are just as foul as Hecket when she would screamed about being hungry during dinner…Those should hold me over until I get this unwanted pest under control.”

“The wind and rain coming in through the holes on the side of the house that I use to see if any heretics come to kill me, has gotten too much. I’m tired of having to clean up the puddles of water that enters the home. And the curtains don’t do much in terms of trying to block both of these elements.That stupid squid Kallamar doesn’t need his crystals now that he’s gone. It didn’t help him when trying to hide from me. I’ll go to Anchordeep tomorrow and get some to make crystal windows. They sure would make it more beautiful than their temple…”

“Finally the loom is ready. It’s been a such a long time since I had decent robes. It’s easy to find cotton, but what I really want is a nice, soft, silk robe. One that doesn’t rub against these scars preferably. I miss the old one Shamura they made with their silk. But, that one got destroyed in the fight with that damn vessel. Maybe there is some in Silk Cradle. ”

(I’ll come back to this when I flesh it out more via work time daydreams)

[borderlinereminders]

Identifying and clarifying emotions can be really helpful in learning how to cope with them.

For me, I start with “what just triggered this feeling?” No matter how small it was. Even if it was just a minor thing that unraveled a bigger issue. Maybe it’s something like your friend didn’t reply to you when you thought they would. Maybe your friend said something that unintentionally hurt your feelings.

I then focus on “what physical feelings do I have?” For example, is my heart racing? Do my hands feel shaky? Does my stomach feel like it’s turning? All of the above could indicate I’m feeling anxious. Where things like clenching your fist or feeling “hot” could indicate anger. Take a note of what you’re feeling physically and if you aren’t sure what it might indicate, looking it up might help!

The next thing I ask myself is “what urges is this feeling giving me?” If I’m feeling like yelling at someone, this could indicate anger. If I’m feeling like hiding under my blankets, this could indicate anxiety. If I’m feeling like sobbing on the floor, this could indicate grief, sadness or something like that.

Once you’ve identified your feeling(s), you can start to look at ways to deal with it. A lot of times, our urges to deal with the feelings aren’t the things we should do.

Skills like urge surfing can help with this and working on some grounding exercises might help clear your head to rationally figure out your next step. This might be where we look at how to deal with the feeling. Maybe to deal with the feeling of sadness, we need to let ourselves cry. Maybe to deal with rage, we need to scream into a pillow. Everyone is different and every situation is different but the goal is to find a way to deal with the feeling.

Another skill I usually find useful in dealing with feelings is the wise mind skill. This helps me figure out how to proceed in a situation like something a friend said unintentionally that upset me.

If I’m feeling frustrated with my friend for not replying, I may step back and look at the situation. I may be feeling frustrated because I feel like they’re ignoring me so I then consider the possibility of an alternate explanation. Could they be busy? Possibly overwhelmed? Could there be an explanation that isn’t about them ignoring me?

Another thing I ask myself is “what can I do to feel something else?” For this, I have a list of things on my phone that I know make me happy. Things like cute animal videos, my favourite songs to listen to, etc. I keep the list because these things can be hard to remember when other feelings are so strong. But a lot of the time, doing something in the list can help me get beyond the other feeling. While we do need to deal with our feelings, sometimes it isn’t the time or place and it’s better for us to focus on something else for the time being. This can also help us be able to look at the situation more rationally once we’re not so caught up in the feelings about it.

I think I could go on and on about ways to deal with different feelings, but this post is getting very long already, so I’ll leave it here.

[unrealisticlea]

Remembering 911 is a drama first and a procedural second and they love putting couples through hell before giving them a happy ending, here's my realistic bucktommy arc for season 8a. It’s gonna feel very slow because I’m taking into account that there are emergencies, 6 other characters, Tommy’s not a main, and maybe there’ll be some work related storylines for Buck.

The first three episodes are the big emergency. But Buck's distracted. He keeps checking his phone, at some point he refuses to go on a call because he received the news about an aviation incident (it's the Athena's one, Tommy's not involved whatsoever). The Big Call with all those firehouses involved starts and on the scene Eddie has to save Buck's life from something falling because Buck got distracted because he saw a hat with 217 on it on the ground and started panicking (Eddie screams "Buck what the hell!!!" and he goes "sorry, I thought..." and trails off). The Big Call ends and Buck reunites with Tommy and acts like he thought he was dead and starts touching him everywhere and frantically saying "I was so worried, I'm so glad you're okay" and Tommy hugs him but he looks kinda confused.

At the end of episode 3 or in episode 4 Buck and Tommy are on a date at Buck's place but Buck doesn't look at Tommy and Tommy tries to engage him but Buck's very quiet. And Tommy asks "are you okay?" and he says "yeah" but he's still quiet.

And that's when Buck pulls an Ali. Well, he doesn't have the time to pull an Ali because Tommy suddenly looks very sad and in a very monotone voice says "let me guess. Dating a firefighter is harder than you thought. It's messing with your head and you aren't sure you can deal with it" and Buck feebly says "if I'm distracted on the job, people die. I'm so sorry".

And Tommy just starts collecting his things (he has an overnight bag) and not looking at Buck he says "it's okay. You're not the first person who doesn’t feel like dating a firefighter. You know that.” and he sounds mad and sad and keeps moving like he can’t get out of there fast enough.

Buck follows him looking desperate and asks “can we still be friends?” and they are in front of the door at this point and that’s when Tommy finally looks at him in the eyes and says “No Evan…Buck. I’m sorry but I’m not friends with people I’m in love with”. And Buck kinda smiles even though there are tears in his eyes and goes “You’re in love with me?” and Tommy nods and answers “Yeah. Too bad that doesn’t change anything.” and closes the door behind him.

We have 3-4 episodes with other storylines and we don’t deal with the break up at all. We’re only reminded in passing. There’s a scene in one episode where Chimney says “Buck, stop moping about Tommy and come help” and another one where Eddie says “if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think he left his couch for anything except work” and Buck says “it makes me feel worse but thanks”.

Than in episode 8/9 we finally have the conversation with Maddie. Buck says “I don’t know how you do it. Seeing Chim leave every morning knowing he might not come back. You are so much stronger than I am, Maddie”. And Maddie answers “It’s terrifying but the alternative is not seeing him at all and that’s even scarier”.

And Buck looks pensive and then admits “I thought breaking up with Tommy was gonna make me feel better but now I’m still worried about him and I can’t even text him to asks if he’s alright. It’s hell.”. And Maddie says “Evan. You’re the one who taught me that sometimes staying with someone who loves you instead of running is the scariest thing you can do but it’s so worth it.” But Buck looks unconvinced.

The choice is taken out of his hands. Because 1 or 2 episodes later, in the last episode before the hiatus multiple times during the episode we see Buck taking out his phone and hovering on Tommy’s name in his contacts or in his messages. He finally calls in the last minute of the episode. We hear the “This is Tommy Kinard, please…” but it’s interrupted by the firehouse alarm ringing and the announcement system saying that Harbor Station requested back up because a chopper went down.

[pigeonp0st]

Wow, I just finished reading your most recent piece with Kara and it was really well done. You mentioned the idea of immortality in that and wondered how that could be used in a different piece perhaps. Kara (Plus Alex and the others) possibly finding out that reader is immortal and has been for a long time. (As a sort of headconnon or what not. I’d presume reader would be running a personally owned company, as big if not bigger than L-Corp. What with having a long time to amass wealth)

Kara Danvers X Reader

Summary:

Reader reveals she’s immortal to the super friends. Kara comforts her.

warnings:

Angst

Notes:

Thanks for the request! Sorry for taking so long. It being shorter is the sacrifice I’ve made to return to writing, but I hope you enjoy anyways!

——

It’s game night that the super friends find out about my immortality.

It comes out when Lena says she’s been looking into my company, wanting to buy it. She mentions curiously that it says I’m the founder, when it’s well known my company has been around for nearly a hundred years.

And, well…It comes out then, because you’ve stopped being secretive about it when it stopped being something you had to be secretive about…

They know now— of my immortality, and though I should feel relief at the being known, of the truth I’ve not done much to hide revealing itself, all I feel is discontent. Discontent and unsatisfied, unsatisfied because the agony and empathy in their eyes is lackluster. They know now, and even as they try to understand they’re incapable of it.

I am immortal, and yet I have lived a thousand lives in my one everlasting one. There’s so much devastation in every end when you’ve had countless of new beginnings. I do best in the in between where l don’t have to face either beginning or end. It’s in the start of something new that every fiber of my being screams for stop.

Getting used to something doesn’t mean it gets easier, in the same way grief often works. I am constantly grieving my lives, and it’s become a heavy burden they could never understand.

It hurts in a way I hadn’t accounted for. With the coming of Superman, the rise of aliens, the new acceptance of them—there’s a rise of difference, and in that alternative community. It makes you feel better, this new life. It’s given you more hope of being understood than ever before, but to be faced with your friend’s sympathetic eyes, it all feels lackluster.

Even more so when Winn makes a nerdy comment about wanting to know the truth about history. Everyone laughs, laughs and leaves me alone in the same instant.

I laugh along, searching for connection and finding none. Disappointment was the backside of the renewed hope this life has given me. I felt intensely that there was no point in explaining any of anything that had ever happened for me. To reject them that would allow me the dignity of being not understood on my own terms.

It is better to be alone by yourself, than to be alone surrounded by people after all.

Karas eyes meet mine. She’s sitting by Alex and Lena’s feet. Her and Lena the only ones not laughing, trying to lighten the mood. Lena gives me an apologetic smile, on behalf of the others. There’s connection there.

Kara…Kara just goes distant. Goes distant then, and then goes distant the rest of the game night. It’s when everyones leaving and she stops me, I understand, or accept really; it was because of me. What I said.

I’d been hoping I wouldn’t have to speak on it ever again, regret like acid still in my stomach.

“You…” Kara pauses, searches my eyes—for what, I don’t know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She must sense the way this kills me from the way I wince, because she pulls me into a hug. A hug full of emotion. It shatters me in a way, because it feels like permission. Permission to fall apart.

I can’t, I’ve learned. Know now that if I start, I’ll never stop. All I can do is use logic as avoidance from my heart, and move forward with something resembling acceptance.

I pull away.

“Superman, you, all the aliens, the Meta-Humans, all of you have stretched the definition of what we call ‘humanity’, what we call ‘heart’, and yet still I feel like it escapes me.” It aches as I admit it—feels like a terrible, stupid thing.

Stupid because I have lived so long and yet still, here I am, so agonizingly affected. There are things I know, things I’ve learned, and they all mean nothing.

Kara shakes her head, eyebrows furrowed. She rejects it all. “That very thing inside of that feels different, alone in your experience, that is the very thing that actually connects you to humanity,” Kara says, her eyes soft and understanding.

Understanding in this, in this that she can understand. My heart quickens, I watch Kara, think of hope. Think of her.

Kara who has lost her whole world, her whole culture, who has taken her past and her aloneness and had become a hero, instead of something much darker. “Is there anyone like you, Kara?” I ask. It’s perhaps the question that has tormented her, the way it torments me— “is there anyone like me?”— but I say it like a gift. With reverence.

She is different, inexplicably so. It’s the best thing about her. Kara smiles shyly, looks down, fixes her glasses. “There’s you,” she whispers, “with an aloneness not anyone in this world could understand.”

There’s something about her saying it as it is that settles something inside of you.

“To feel so alone, and have it be the very thing that connects me, and in actuality makes me not alone,” l muse, somehow impressed. There’s not a life that has taught me more than the one with Kara.

There’s a gratitude inside me larger than all the life I’ve lived.

Kara grins, she pulls me in again. Hugs me tight. “I’m sorry about Alex asking to recruit you,” she whispers after a while. I let her words be the thing that has me pulling away, despite Kara’s pout at it.

I smile hesitantly, waving away Kara’s apology. “When Superman showed up it had me thinking about it, but my immortality has been taken advantage of before, and not being able to die isn’t as strong of a power as you might think,” I admit, “I’m not as strong as you’d think.”

Kara gives me a disbelieving look. My defensiveness looks like guilt to her, I know. It is. It’s guilt and fear. I’d want nothing more than to make this forever mean something, but I’m plagued by all of its consequences.

She lets me get away with the things left unsaid, thankfully. In my gratefulness I decide not to ask about her own prolonged life, despite my ongoing curiosity.

I know it’s a sensitive topic. There’s almost all of me that hurts for her, and then there’s a small part of me that thinks; I can live with her longer.

Supergirl, Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-el; my love.

I cough, adjust my bag over my shoulder, and step away. I know I have to before I kiss her in the dim lighting of her apartment, in the body that gets the honor to live alongside her. “See you tomorrow, Supergirl?”

Kara nods, eyes dark. She bites her lip, looks away with a flush. “Yep. One hundred percent. Lunch, right? Right. Yeah. I’ll be there,” Kara confirms, turning an even darker red at my responding eyebrow raise.

“Yeah,” I say, amused. “I’ll be there too. Wouldn’t miss it for my life.”

Kara laughs. Fills your heart for lifetimes with it. You leave with the hope of tomorrow, and the sound of her laugh.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

Title: cruel summer | chapter 5

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Join the tag list

Summary: Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Author’s Note: Thank you for all the love on this fic and any others you may have read! Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed 💕 There will be one more chapter to this story.

Reminder that I’m open to requests, esp Joel because he’s the source of my brain rot right now. 🫠

Additional Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), age gap (38M and 23F), oral (f receiving), pet names, dirty talk, ANGST not resolved in chapter (i hurt my own feelings with this one). Let me know if any are missing!

At the start of November, you ask Joel about coming with you to your parent’s house for Thanksgiving.

The question stops him in his tracks. It makes sense, the next logical progression of your relationship would be meeting friends and family, and you’ve already met his brother and daughter. In any other relationship, it would only be fair that he meets your parents soon.

The problem is he’s met your parents, just under different circumstances. And he doesn’t have much faith in them being particularly receptive to the news that their hired contractor got in bed with their daughter.

“You look worried,” you comment. You’re reclined on his couch with a book, one of his sweatshirts engulfing your frame. You set the book aside as he enters the room and sits beside you, moving your feet to his lap and squeezing your shin.

“I am worried. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says gently. Your face drops and he feels his heart fracture at the sight.

“I don’t want to have to keep you a secret just to keep you,” you say, voice small. He gives you a tight smile.

“Just…give me a little more time, okay?” He leans over until his hands are planted in the cushions on either side of your head. He drops a kiss to your lips. Then another. And another.

The question is forgotten between the movement of your bodies.

________

The next time you ask is around Christmas. You’re lying in bed beside him, head resting on his chest, fingers drawing patterns over his bare skin.

“What do you think about coming to my parent’s Christmas Eve?” You ask quietly. If the hitch in his breath is any indication, you already prepare yourself for disappointment.

“I can’t, baby,” he says. “Goin’ to Tommy’s place that night.”

“Right,” you reply.

He doesn’t say anything more. Doesn’t offer an alternative. You recognize that it’s not fair of you to expect that as a response, but the hurt in your heart isn’t helping your sense of logic.

You just want to be completely open about your relationship, and your parents knowing about it is the last hurdle. Your best friend, Hannah, met him a couple months ago when he’d woken up at your apartment the morning after you’d screamed your confession of love at him in your hallway.

Things have been great since then. You spend the night at his place a couple times a week, trying to balance the visits with your study schedule. Together you take Sarah to the park or the zoo or back to the aquarium, spending the days wrapped around the little girl’s finger and the nights wrapped around each other.

But you want him in every facet of your life. You want him and his daughter and hell, even his brother, over for holidays with your family and you want them with you during big milestones like your graduation in the spring.

His breathing goes deep and slow beneath your head and you sigh, sinking into the disappointment.

________

To make up for not seeing you on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, Joel makes plans with you on December 26. You arrive at his house late in the morning to find him making breakfast while Sarah stands on a kitchen chair beside him, mixing a bowl of pancake batter with intense focus. She nearly drops it in excitement when she hears you come in, shouting your name and scrambling from her perch.

Her arms wrap around your legs and her eyes zero in on the brightly wrapped box balanced in your arms as you try to set your overnight bag down.

“Who’s that for?” She asks. “Is it for me?”

“Sarah,” Joel admonishes, taking over her abandoned mixing. The little girl is unfazed.

“It just so happens to be for you,” you tell her, handing over the present. She squeals, ripping into the wrapping paper and pulling out a new Barbie doll, one who’s curly hair looks just like hers. She gasps.

“Daddy, it’s a Barbie! And look at her hair!” She exclaims, shaking the box in Joel’s face. His eyes meet yours over her head, full of gratitude.

“What do you say?” Joel prompts gently. Sarah wraps her arms around your legs again.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly. “Can you help me open it?”

“Of course. Could you get me your scissors?”

She bolts from the room and Joel crosses the kitchen to grasp your face in his palms, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips that makes your knees go weak.

“Now where’s my present?” He asks with a sly grin, earning him a smack on the chest.

“You can unwrap it later,” you tell him, wiggling your eyebrows. Sarah returns to the room, carefully holding her craft scissors with the blades down like she learned in school.

You help free the Barbie from her cardboard confinement and Sarah plays with her through breakfast, alternating bites of pancake and pretend conversation with her new favorite toy. Towards the end of breakfast, the front door opens and Tommy yells out his hello.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says to you with a wink. Joel glares at him. It’s been a running joke between you and Tommy the last couple of months.

“You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles glaring at your brother like that,” you tease.

Tommy’s come over to pick up Sarah because Joel has a whole day planned, starting with a trip to your favorite coffee shop.

“Get somethin’ hot, it’s cold where I’m takin’ you next,” Joel says while you’re in line, his hand around your hip to keep you pressed to his side.

________

The next stop Joel has planned for you is the ice skating rink. You mentioned briefly at the beginning of the month that you usually go every winter, digging the old pair of skates from your teenage years out from your closet for the occasion. Joel was lucky enough to find them the last time he’d stayed at your apartment, stashing them in the back of the truck for this moment. He holds the bag out to you and your face lights up.

“Joel! Seriously?” You ask, bouncing slightly in your seat.

“Yep. You ready to watch me fall on my ass?” He asks.

And fall on his ass he does. He grips the wall of the rink, inching along on shaky legs as you skate laps past him, the sound of your laughter making the suffering worth it.

You try to help him learn. He holds both your hands as you slowly skate backwards, his knees bent as he’s simply dragged along the ice. As soon as you let go of his hands, his feet slide out from under him and he goes tumbling down.

You stand over him, trying to hide a giggle behind your hand as he groans in pain, the cold seeping into his jeans.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” He asks with a grunt. “Help an old man up.”

“I will always lend a hand to a senior citizen in need,” you tease, holding a hand to him.

Once standing, Joel tugs you closer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and looking down into your face. Christ, you’re so pretty, face all flushed and smile so wide it’s damn near blinding in its brightness.

“You ready for dinner yet?” He asks. You nod.

You try to pull away, but he keeps a tight hold around you. “Joel?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you just holding on to me so that you don’t fall?”

“Is it that obvious?” You laugh, ducking until you’ve escaped his arms. He stands still, arms out at his sides as he tries to maintain his balance. “You gonna help me here?”

Your grin is mischievous as you skate away from him, the sound of his cursing drowned out by your delighted laughter.

________

Joel makes a quick stop at his house so that you can change into the outfit you’d been instructed to bring for dinner, a light blue dress with a low neckline that hugged your curves down to your knees. You did your hair and makeup in his bathroom before slipping the dress on, stepping out to request his help with the zipper.

“Shit, baby, I might have to cancel the reservations if you’re goin’ to walk around lookin’ good enough to eat,” he says with a whistle. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Then why don’t you?” You ask.

He blinks, staring at you with his mouth dropped open like he can’t believe you said that. But then his brain comes back online and he marches toward you, backing you up with the press of his body until your knees meet the edge of the mattress and he pushes you down gently.

He drops to his knees, hiking the dress up over your thighs until he’s exposed the lacy black panties you put on. He groans, looking up at you briefly before he turns his head and sinks his teeth into your inner thigh.

Your head drops back with a moan and you can feel his lips spread into a smile against your skin. His hands work to slide your panties down your thighs and off your legs, bunching them into a ball and stuffing them into his pocket.

“Dirty man,” you tease. He laughs, a dark low rumble that makes you impossibly wetter.

“Can’t help it when you look this good, sweetheart.”

There’s no more talking after that. He licks through your wet center, circling your clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches from the bed as you shout, fingers digging into his hair to pull him closer.

His tongue dips lower to explore inside your tight heat, his nose bumping your clit and his fingers pressed so tightly into your thighs you’re certain there will be bruises for you to admire in the morning.

“Joel,” you whimper, hips writhing beneath him. He releases his grip on one thigh to slide two fingers into you, curling them as he withdraws his hand and making you see stars.

He lifts his head, circling your clit with his thumb as he growls, “Come on, darlin’, wanna feel this pussy get drenched for me.”

With a shout of his name, your release washes over you, your legs tightening against his shoulders as you clench around his fingers. He works you through the waves of pleasure before slowly withdrawing his fingers.

Joel brings his fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan, eyes fluttering shut at the taste.

“Such a good girl, baby,” he says. You can’t help the little giggle that bubbles up.

“You gonna give me back my panties?” You ask.

“No chance in hell,” he replies with a wink.

________

Joel manages to get the two of you to the restaurant just in time for the reservation, despite the distraction of your sweet moans and delicious pussy.

He picked this restaurant because of two things. One, it had great reviews for their steak and he’s a sucker for a good hunk of meat. He’s a Texan man, after all.

Two, it was a bit more upscale and he wanted to treat you to something nice. He knows you’ve been disappointed that two holidays have come and gone now and he still hasn’t agreed to meet your parents and bring your relationship to the light. But he just can’t shake the feeling that telling them will pop this beautiful bubble that the two of you have created. This whole day has been as much of an apology as it has been a gift.

The restaurant is busy. Most of the tables are filled and there’s a private room that’s bustling with people as well. The hostess walks the two of you to a small table near the bar and he holds your chair out for you to take a seat. The table is set with a number of cutlery he’s not sure how to use on top of a pristine white tablecloth. There’s a candle and a small floral arrangement in the center, the flame throwing a pretty glow over your face.

“This is beautiful,” you comment once the hostess has stepped away with promises that your waiter will be there shortly. “Oh, they have duck!”

The waiter comes by with a wine list. Joel knows fuck all about wine, so he hands it to you, only for you to stare wide eyed at it.

“Joel, these prices are insane!” You hiss when the waiter steps away to let you make a choice. He grabs your hand.

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby, but I don’t give a fuck. Pick whatever you want,” he says. You still look uncertain.

When the waiter returns, he takes matters into his own hands, slipping the list from your hands. “My girl wants the duck. What’s the best white wine to pair with it.” He listens to the options and raises an eyebrow at you to pick one. He keeps the list captive so that you don’t base the choice off the dollar amount.

When the food arrives, you chat about anything and everything while you eat. When you’ve set your silverware down, insisting you can’t eat another bite, Joel reaches across the table for your hand, thumb circling the smooth skin of your palm. You give him the softest smile that makes his heart beat triple time.

“You have fun today?” He asks.

“The most fun,” you confirm. You’re about to say something else, but you’re cut off by a loud voice from the other side of the restaurant.

“Joel Miller!” The voice calls. He looks up.

Right into your father’s smiling face.

________

Joel goes tense all over, the grip on your hand tightening as his eyes flick between you and your father approaching from behind you. You stare at Joel with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. If the earth opening up and swallowing you whole were an option, you’d gladly take it.

He stands as your dad reaches the edge of the table, shaking his hand with a strained smile.

“How have you been, Miller? The wife loves that bathroom, sometimes she’ll just stand in the doorway and stare at it lovingly,” he jokes.

“That’s great. That she loves it. Uh, I’ve been great,” he replies. He runs a hand nervously through his hair.

“I don’t want to interrupt your date—,” your dad starts, turning towards you. His smile immediately drops. Your name leaves his lips in surprise. “What are you doing here?” He asks. You bite your lip, unsure of how to respond, but as your dad’s eyes go between your surprised expression and Joel’s guilty one, his brain seems to make the connection. He turns to Joel.

“Joel. Why is my daughter here?” He asks, voice quietly controlled in the same way it is when he’s asking you something he already knows the answer to.

Joel straightens, throwing his shoulders back and keeping his head high as he looks your dad in the eye. “Because she’s my date.”

Your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck do you mean, she’s your date? She’s twenty-three!” He snaps.

“Dad—“

“No, I don’t want to hear anything from you right now.” You feel his words like a slap. “What is this, Miller? Spent all that time in my house and thought you could take advantage of my daughter?”

“Dad! ” You snap. “He didn’t take advantage of me, I’m an adult .”

“You’re still a kid,” your dad snaps back. “And he’s a goddamn adult who should have fuckin’ known better.”

“Dad, please. Stop. We can talk about this later, ” you plead desperately. Your dad gives you both one last derisive look before turning on his heel and storming off, heading into the private event room. “Shit. Fuck. His fucking company Christmas dinner. And it had to be here?!”

Joel stares blankly after your dad’s retreating figure. You place a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Joel?” You ask quietly.

“How about you go out to the truck and I’ll take care of the bill,” he says, eyes looking everywhere but at you. You swallow nervously.

“Why don’t we at least finish dinner?”

He snaps your name, making you flinch. “Please. Just…listen to me, alright? I’ll be out in a minute.”

You gather your purse and make your way out to the parking lot, fighting back tears with each step.

________

After paying the bill, Joel slips inside the private room, eyes scanning for your father. He finds him at a back corner table, head down as he types on his phone.

Joel approaches and takes the seat beside him. When your father looks up, his face drops from welcoming to downright frosty.

“Sir,” Joel starts. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “I just want you to know that I love your daughter. More than anythin’. This isn’t some sick game of me tryin’ to get my rocks off with some girl younger than me. It’s…she’s the best thing that’s happened to me since my own daughter was born. And I’d do anythin’ for her.”

The man doesn’t respond, but Joel sees the tick of his jaw.

“I just thought you should know,” Joel finishes. He waits a beat for the other man to respond. When he doesn’t, Joel stands with a sigh, heading to the truck with a nervous heart.

________

Joel’s quiet on the ride home. He keeps both hands on the wheel and the spot on your thigh where he usually rests his palm is especially cold.

You don’t know what to say. That whole scene in the restaurant was an absolute disaster, one that you were hoping could be avoided by telling your dad about your relationship, but Joel hadn’t been ready. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth, an “I told you so” threatening to escape your lips as you stare out the window.

When Joel pulls to a stop, it takes you a moment to realize that he’s outside of your apartment and not his house. Turning to face him, he’s staring out the windshield with his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t look at you.

“Joel?” You ask. You hate how tiny your voice sounds. “Can…can we please talk? About this?”

His eyes slip shut and he rests his head back against the headrest with a sigh. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about, sweetheart.”

The tears burn as they slide down your cheeks. “Please?”

He turns his head to look at you. “Please what?”

“Please don’t shut me out again,” you beg, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his, resting your head against his shoulder as you shut your eyes tightly against the tears. You can feel him turn and press his lips to the crown of your head.

“Baby…I just need some time, okay? I love you, I swear it, but I just gotta take a breather and think about everythin’, okay?”

You can feel your heart fracture in your chest, your stomach aching as you try to come up with a reply.

“Don’t cry,” Joel whispers. He unbuckles his seatbelt. “Come on, baby, let’s get you inside.” You shake your head against his shoulder. “You’re breakin’ my heart.”

“You’re breaking mine, Joel!” You snap.

He doesn’t reply, and silence has never been quite as loud as this before.

You sit up straight, swiping at the tear stains on your cheeks before shoving the passenger door open. Before slamming it shut, you take one last look at him.

“I love you, Joel Miller. I hope you find it in you to not be a fucking coward and love me back,” you tell him before slamming the door shut.

A fresh wave of tears cascades down your cheeks as you let yourself into your apartment, collapsing against the door as soon as you have it shut.

________

In the truck, Joel sends a text to Tommy letting him know he’ll be home soon and that he can bring Sarah back over if she’s still awake.

He opens the chat thread with you, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He has so much to say, he doesn’t know where to start. He settles on one sentence.

I love you. I’ll fix this.

He opens a new chat thread and finds a contact he hasn’t used since the summer.

Can we talk?

Tag list: @huffle-punk @telepathay @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727 @caatheeriinee07 @leeeesahhh @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @letsgroovetonighttt @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname

[marvelmusing]

In Another Life

Part Two

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alternate Universe!Reader

Summary: After a restless night of sleep, you wake with too many thoughts in your mind. The contents of the General’s war table provide an ample distraction, and soon the man himself joins you.

Warnings: canon level violence and threat, nightmare, mentions of blood and death.

A/N: I’m so glad people liked the first part of this, and hopefully I’ll have the inspiration to continue this as a little series. I’m planning on introducing Alina in the next part, so I hope you all enjoy this follow up.

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist • Next Part

Even in sleep, the attempt on your life still continues to trouble you, poisoning your thoughts and refusing to let you rest. After the anxiety of the day, your subconscious pulls together the worst possible visions for your dreams.

The ringing in your ears is a constant as your head hits the wall repeatedly. Terror fills you, as time passes by and no one comes to your aid. The door remains shut. No one cares enough to save you.

You can’t hear your own screams but you feel them in your chest as hands press around your throat, squeezing tight. Feeling returns to your fingers, and you feel the shape of a carved wooden handle pressing into your palm.

Without a second thought, you push the weapon into her chest.

Everything blurs, and sound returns.

There’s a whisper of your name, and a wheezing gasp as you stagger around, trying to regain your balance. Then you see the blood. Red stains your hands and you crumple to the floor when you see him.

“No, no, no, please no.” You plead desperately, tears streaming down your face.

Scrambling forwards over the rough sand of the Unsea, you press your palms firmly over the wound in Aleksander’s chest.

“Please no.” You beg.

“No grave,” he insists. “For them to desecrate. Promise me.” Shaking your head, you lean your entire body weight into stopping the blood.

“You’re not dying.” You protest, even though you know it’s too late.

His fingers are curled tightly around your wrist as he speaks the words you always dread reading not matter how many times you’ve read this scene. Hearing them out loud, as he dies in your arms, is far too much. A broken sob chokes you.

“Promise me.” He repeats weakly.

“I promise.”

His grip weakens, sliding from your wrist. He stares up at the sky for a moment, and you curse every bright thing in existence. What you wouldn’t give to hide the two of you away in his shadows.

“Say my name. Once more.” He whispers.

“Aleksander.”

He reaches up, brushing his fingers delicately over your cheek, and the wetness of his blood smears over your skin. Even such a simple gesture seems too much for him. Sweat covers his brow with the exertion, and blood lines his lips.

“Aleksander, please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

Through your tears you can barely see the melancholic smile on his face.

You wake with a start, tears pouring down your face and his words echoing in your mind as he had taken his last breath. Pressing a hand hard against your mouth, you manage to stifle your sobs, though they shake your body as you sit up in bed.

Moonlight illuminates the bedroom, casting shadows over the corners and hidden nooks of the room. There’s a soft breath, and you turn to see the General lying on top of the covers. He’s wearing pyjama pants and a dark robe, no doubt to protect himself from the cold so that he wouldn’t have to share the covers with you. Despite the pillow he must have placed between you both, he’s facing you as he sleeps.

Your tears are silent now, as your sadness solidifies into anger, then determination. You will not let him die like that.

As silently as you can, you slide out from under the covers. With so many thoughts in your head, and emotions running wild through your body, there’s little hope for sleep. You might as well be productive.

The floor is cold as you make your way into the war room, and sit down at the table in the centre of the room.

Over the next hour you survey maps, you read through reports, and you try your hardest to understand what is happening in Ravka. It’s only once the sun is beginning to rise, golden light filtering through the windows, that you hear the General rousing from his sleep.

He stands in the doorway for a long moment.

“I believe you were told to rest.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You answer dismissively, not wanting to encourage thoughts of your nightmare to return. Instead you look down at the papers in your hands. “When are you travelling to Kribirsk?”

“We set off in two days time.”

“Alina will be there.” Fingers skimming through piles of paper, your gaze roams over the words inked there. A frustrated sigh leaves your lips. “How do you find anything in here?”

“Everything has its correct place.”

Raising a brow, you gesture to a rather chaotic looking mound of papers, maps, and books which prompts a half smile to tug at his lips. Hair mussed by sleep, he looks startlingly handsome like this. It’s only when he speaks again that you realise you had been staring at him for far too long.

“What are you looking for?” He asks, shaking you from your staring session.

“Oh, um, a draft list for who will be on the prototype sand-skiff.” He nods, moving to stand beside you and reach underneath a brown leather book. From there, he retrieves a piece of paper, which he hands to you.

“Her name isn’t on there.” He informs you. “I was finalising the Grisha for the sand-skiff when you arrived, I would have noticed her name.”

“No she isn’t.” You remark distractedly, as you read over the names of the First Army soldiers selected. Then you spot him. Tilting the page to show the General, you point down at the name. “But there, Corporal Malyen Oretsev. If he’s on the skiff Alina will do anything to be with him.”

“Who is he to her?”

“To her he’s a childhood friend, but they both want more. To us he’s a complication, but we need him to find the stag.”

“You mentioned the stag yesterday.” He says, but you can hear the question in his tone. You nod.

“Morozova’s stag. It’s real, and Alina needs it.”

“And this tracker.” He says, taking the piece of paper from you and looking down at it. “Is the only one who can find it?”

Rubbing a hand against your temple, you nod In response to his question, wondering whether you should tell him that Mal is his great-great-great-great-cousin. Or at least you think that’s how they’re related. Brows drawn together as you think, you can feel the General’s eyes on you as you ask him,

“Are you able to request soldiers from the First Army for your operations?” He nods. “Would you be able to request for Mal and Alina to assist in our search for the stag?”

Tilting his head aside, the General runs a hand over the lower half of his face.

“I could issue a request for them. Whether the First Army will agree is another matter.”

“I think they will. While Mal is a good tracker, he’s young, so they won’t see him as being as valuable. Alina is only an Assistant Cartographer, and in her opinion not a very good one. I don’t think the First Army will hold onto them for the sake of being petty.”

His eyes scour over your face as he considers your words. Then he nods, reaching for a blank piece of paper.

“I’ll write a missive for the Kaptain stationed at Kribirsk.”

As he sits down on a chair a few paces away, you remain quiet to allow him the time to consider his words. Though it appears he can multitask rather well, as he speaks to you without looking up.

“Will you be joining me?” He glances up for a moment when you don’t respond, and once he sees the confusion on your face he adds, “To Kribirsk.”

“Me?” He nods. His focus returns to his writing as he informs you,

“It will be a day’s ride on horseback.”

“I don’t know how to ride a horse.” You admit.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Within two days?” He sighs but doesn’t seem exasperated by your concerns.

“We’ll take the coach then. But I want you to begin learning to ride on our return to the Little Palace.”

You nod. Being able to ride a horse would help you in case of an emergency, so you don’t disagree with him. Though you still have plenty to think about.

“Won’t people wonder why I’m with you?”

“I don’t suppose so.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “After all, I need my assistant with me to witness the new sand-skiff.”

“Your assistant?”

“You need a role that explains why you’re always at my side.”

Something warm glows in your chest, at his words, and the thought of being by his side through everything.

There’s a knock at the door, saving you from having to respond, and the General stands and unlocks the door. He opens it slightly, his body shielding you from seeing whoever is at the door.

He steps away revealing a servant carrying a large tray filled with plates and bowls of food. Another servant trails behind with a smaller tray, in which there sits a teapot and some small jugs.

They both place their trays on the table, bow once at the General, then leave. He shuts the door behind them.

It’s only then that you realise how hungry you are. You eye the different foods in front of you. Warm bread, a small bowl of steaming porridge, fruits, cheeses, a few sliced meats. Mouth watering, you glance up at the General and immediately tuck into the food when he gives you an encouraging nod.

“I thought herring and rye bread was the typical Grisha breakfast?” You muse with a small smile.

“It is.” Raising a brow, you gesture to the generous spread of food covering the tray. He shrugs lightly, “I wasn’t entirely sure what you would be used to.”

“Thank you.”

You haven’t eaten in quite some time, and the fact that you’re finally feeling settled in this new universe fuels your appetite. You’re rather content to sit at the war table, with the early morning sun warming your back through the windows, and the sound of the General writing away.

“You aren’t eating anything?” You prompt him tentatively.

He looks up at you, holding your gaze for a long moment before he selects a slice of bread. With a delicate swipe of a knife, he butters it, before he layers on a generous amount of strawberry jam. You smile softly in response and fill your plate with another portion.

He observes your hesitation as you stare down at your glass of orange juice, and he quickly reassures you.

“It isn’t poisoned. I ensured that everything was tested beforehand.”

Cheeks warming as you realise he had been watching you, you shake your head in his direction.

“Oh, thank you. But I actually wasn’t even thinking of that.” His head tilts to one side as he surveys you with a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“Then what were you thinking of?”

“Where does Ravka get oranges from?”

He laughs softly, surprise and amusement colouring his features. He looks so young for a moment and you look away quickly to avoid another staring incident.

“There’s an orangery just outside Os Alta. It’s where the majority of the capital’s food resources are grown.”

Humming in acknowledgement of his explanation, you nod as you take a sip of the orange juice. It’s sweet and refreshing.

“I’ll go with you. To Kribirsk.” You say, and he nods.

“I shall make the necessary arrangements. We will leave tomorrow instead, since travelling in the coach will take longer. You will need some clothing as well.”

Glancing down, you remember that all you’re currently wearing is your underwear, and the General’s black shirt. An embarrassed flush rushes over your cheeks, as you realise that the servants will have seen you in his war room looking like this.

There’s only one assumption they would make, seeing you wearing his shirt, and him still dressed in his night clothes, as you eat breakfast together. Of course, they don’t know that you’re only with him because he’s protecting you, due to the attempt on your life.

“I assume you have some sort of plan for her.”

A frown creases at your forehead as you look over at him in confusion.

“Who?”

“Miss Starkov.” You nod haltingly.

“In some sense.” He raises a brow at you, and you decide to explain. “Taking her off the sand-skiff means that she won’t discover her power. You and I will be the only people who know that she’s the sun summoner.”

Hesitating, you try to select your words carefully. You want to give him an accurate picture of who Alina is, without making it seem like she both hates and fears Grisha. Struggling to accept that you’re Grisha must be a foreign concept to a man who has lived for centuries knowing exactly who he is.

“She does have some internal prejudice surrounding Grisha, and I’m hoping by having her at the Little Palace before she knows she’s one of you will help her see that you’re all just ordinary people.”

“How will she discover her power?” You sigh a little. This is where your plan loses it’s already rather limited structure.

“I think you should be the one to tell her.” His eyes meet yours, and you hold his gaze as you continue to talk through your reasoning. “Every time she touches you, she will sense her own power. I think, over time, enough casual contact between the two of you will have her questioning what it is in her that calls to you.”

His brows are drawn tightly together, his arms crossed as he considers your words.

“At some point you should mention that you also feel something, and ask her when she was tested. Whatever her answer is, you can offer to test her again and draw out her power.”

“Then she can begin training and start to use her power.” He adds, running a hand over his jawline and down his neck. You’re glad he can see what you’re trying to do.

“I’m hoping that will make her feel more at home at the Little Palace, and realise that she belongs with the other Grisha.”

“What is it that you hope to avoid by doing all this?” He asks.

Of course he would ask you about one of the things you don’t want to tell him. Although you can’t lie to him. Not only would that complicate things, you know he would see right through it, and you’ve only just earned his trust.

You know that you’re alone, but you still glance around the room, lowering your voice as you inform him.

“On the night of the Winter Fete, Baghra tells Alina that you’re the Black Heretic.”

You watch his expression, trying your hardest to read him, but whatever he’s thinking is hidden carefully behind his eyes. He doesn’t seem angry or upset, though you have no way of truly knowing as you continue.

“She paints a rather terrifying image of you controlling Alina and using her to bring the world to your feet. Understandably she’s scared and Baghra urges her to run away.” You pause for a moment. “She does.”

He appears to consider your words carefully, his gaze dropping down to stare hard at the table.

“Then we must ensure that she doesn’t find out.” His words are stiff, perfectly pronounced, and you wonder what he is currently thinking, though you don’t dare ask him.

You nod, a small puff of relief leaving your lips. There’s determination in his eyes, as he raises his chin, and you know that this is something the two of you will tackle together.

The General stands up, eyes searching through papers as he looks over at a particular map. Glancing up at him, you can see his attention isn’t really on the details of the landscape scribbled down in front of him.

There’s a moment of silence, before he turns to face you.

“You know my name.” He states it softly, but there’s confidence in his voice.

You already know so much about him, it isn’t a stretch for him to assume that you know his name. You do. There’s no point in denying it.

“I do.”

“Why haven’t you addressed me by it yet?”

Looking down at your empty plate, you pinch the edge of the porcelain between your fingertips, and begin to lightly spin the plate.

His name might have been the first thing you should have told him. When he had asked for you to say something only he would know as a means to prove that you weren’t a spy or a crazy person. But that hadn’t felt right.

“You haven’t given it to me.” You reason. “I know what your name means to you. I didn’t want to assume that you would want me to say it.”

“Will you?” You frown at him, and he steps closer. “Will you say it?”

His words from your nightmare echo through your thoughts. Say my name. Once more. Aleksander. Please don’t leave me. Swallowing hard, you push those thoughts aside violently. He can never know his fate. If you’re smart enough, that won’t happen, and he will never need to know.

From your position sitting down at the war table you need to tilt your head back to look at him. But you need to look at him. You need to see his face as you say in a near whisper,

“Aleksander.”

Lips parted, his lashes brush against his cheekbones as they flutter, and you can hear his delicate inhale of breath.

As far as you know, you’re the first person to have known his name for centuries. The corner of his mouth lifts into a now familiar half smile, and that warm sunny feeling in your chest returns.

»»---------------------►

The next morning, Aleksander waits for you by the side of the black coach currently parked at the entrance to the Little Palace. You’re fiddling with the sleeves of your perfectly pressed shirt as you make your way down the steps towards him.

The outfit he had laid out on his bed for you fits remarkably well considering it had been created on such a short notice. It’s not dissimilar to the First Army uniform. A white shirt with black trousers, breeches over each of your shoulders, and black boots.

There was no jacket laid out for you, and a shiver runs through your body as a cool breeze meets your skin. When you stop in front of Aleksander you see a jacket draped over his arm, which you assume is for you.

“Good morning.” He greets you with a nod, which you return with your own quiet,

“Good morning.”

He confirms your suspicions when he opens up the jacket, gesturing for you to turn around and allow him to place it over your shoulders. Sliding your arms into the garment, you’re startled by how much warmth it provides.

“I’ve had it lined with corecloth.” He says in a low tone, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

The style is similar to the First Army uniform, though the hem hangs a little lower, almost like a kefta. Instead of green, your jacket is a deep blue, and in some lighting you’re certain it would look black.

Once you’ve turned around to face him he adjusts the front of your jacket as he continues to speak.

“It may be unnecessary, but I feel better knowing you’re protected.”

He may only be doing it because he needs you to remain alive, but you do feel comforted by the thought of your clothing being reinforced by fabrikators. At least getting shot wouldn’t be fatal, though you were hoping to avoid such an incident.

“Thank you, Aleksander.”

Your voice is a quiet murmur, but with how close you’re standing to him he undoubtably hears it. There isn’t anyone around, so there’s no concern for someone hearing you. You had agreed to call him by his name in private, and from the tiny twitch at the corner of his lips, you know he heard you.

He straightens suddenly, pulling in a breath and drawing his shoulders back as he looks behind you. Stepping away from him, you turn around and catch sight of two heartrenders walking down the steps.

“Ivan and Fedoyr will be travelling in the coach with us.” Aleksander explains in a quiet murmur as they cross the gravel towards you. “Once we reach Balakirev, the coach will change horses and they will ride on horseback for the rest of the journey.”

You nod in response.

Ivan’s expression is neutral, you had only seen him briefly before, but you have a feeling his face is typically quite unchanging. The last time you had been in his company was after you were attacked. Whilst you hadn’t met Fedoyr yet, you had trusted him enough to guard your door while you slept on that first night.

If there’s two people you would want close by, it would be these two heartrenders.

They both bow in the direction of Aleksander, and you wonder briefly if you should begin bowing when you greet him.

“Moi soverenyi.”

Aleksander nods at them nod, before he introduces you. Ivan merely glances at you, but Fedoyr’s smile is wide as he speaks to you.

“My name is Fedoyr. This is Ivan.”

A nervous smile tugs at your lips as you glance between the two of them, and you decide to settle your smile on Fedoyr.

“Pleasure to meet you both.”

The door to the coach creaks as Aleksander opens it, and he turns to you with an outstretched hand.

“Shall we?”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo

In Another Life Tag List: @parabatai-winchester @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @jambolska-grozdova

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[kitthepurplepotato]

New to the story? Start here! -> PART 1

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Part 6 (or alternative universe 1/3):

Bakugou Katsuki and the case of an unexpected team up mission.

(feat. Deku & Todoroki)

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Author’s note: I would recommend reading this part (and the next 2) even if you don’t know the full story! It will be super fun!

I’ll leave a quick “catch up” for you guys, so you can understand the beginning!

Also, English is my second language. Sorry for the mistakes.

Warnings: Swear words!

💥Master list💥

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Okay guys, I know I’m supposed to have Best Jeanist as the guest for this part, but I had this idea, and after all my mental struggles I actually ended up writing more Shenanigans, even tho this story is supposed to be on a long-term hiatus, so spare my life, please 😂

For those who only want to read this part: Reader is Bakugou’s assistant, an ex-hero from another country, currently out of business due to an injury. Her quirk is super powerful; she can have any quirk she can think of, even multiple at once.

You and Bakugou “hate each other” (not really), he is your boss, and you are not easy to boss around. Don’t tell anyone, but you guys care about each other quite a lot.

In the last part, you fainted due to overworking yourself and Bakugou ended up being your caretaker for the day. He “hated” every minute of it.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Hey, you fuckstick! We have guests, stop zoning out like a brainsless idiot!”

Ahh, it’s so good to be back in the office again!

Oh wait…

It’s certainly not.

Since the fainting incident… Bakugou is an even bigger ass than he was before. You didn’t think it’s possible, but here you are, half asleep, being shouted at for no reason, your coffee still untouched on your office desk.

You were absolutely aware of the fact that you probably won’t ever see Dynamight’s caring side ever again, but you really can’t believe how much damage this small mess-up has done to your already tense relationship.

“I thought I am a brainless idiot anyway.” You sigh into the distance, your face plastered to the desk’s shiny surface. Maybe this time, you’ll be the person faking being dead to get away from a traumatic situation; because shit you not, you are actually traumatized by this sudden personality change.

“We can come back later, Kacchan.” Comes a smooth voice from the door, which soothes your troubled soul right away. What a pleasant voice to be listening to so early in the morning! You might as well just go back to sleep now.

But wait…

Kacchan?

“The fucker had enough time to laze around last week.” Grumbles the blonde demon with zero sympathy in his harsh voice.

Honestly, Dynamight should be banned from talking between 10 PM and 10AM.

“I think you are being too harsh on her. Living half of her life with you is enough of a torture as it is.” Another pleasant voice joins the conversation, making the demon in front of you so angry he almost explodes your head with an accidental explosion coming out from his palms.

“I will blow you out of my fucking office window if you don’t shut the fuck up, you half and half bastard, who the fuck invited you anyway…”

“I did, Kacchan.” Speaks up the soothing voice again, but this time, it sounds more squeaky and less pleasant.

Okay, who are these people?!

As you slowly emerge from your half sleeping position, your eyes are met with 2 really handsome guys; one with a magnificent pine green hair, the other half crimson half white, split perfectly in the middle.

Oh, shit.

You are not the fangirl kinda gal, but you are internally screaming so loud you can barely hear your own voice; hence why you might be screaming like and absolute fool right now.

“Deku-san, Shouto-san, sorry for my terrible behavior! Welcome to the agency! Please take a seat!” You sit up as quickly as you can, bumping your knees into the thick office desk while standing up. The loud thump echoes in the otherwise silent office, but you pay no mind to the awkward situation and point at the office sofa.

This is fine.

This is salvageable.

You can do this.

“Now you can fucking behave…” Mumbles Mr. Dynamight, making the situation awkward again. Of course.

“Jealous much?” You snap back, ready for a fight.

“Why the fuck would I be jealous?! Who do you think you are?”

Woah, the bitch is angry.

“I’m supposed to be your right hand, but if you keep bitching, I’ll shove my resignation up your ass and blow you up with it.” You scream back, lovely guests respectfully ignored for the time being.

“My right hand?! A pimple on my back, maybe.” Shouts the blonde back with sparkling palms, slowly getting closer. Oi.

“At least it’s not a pimple on his ass. Sounds like a compliment to me.” Speaks up Shouto, clearly not reading the room properly.

“Shou, not now…” squeaks Deku with a red face, slowly moving in front of his friend protectively.

“What did you say, Steakface?”

“I said, you two get along well.” Deadpans the half and half hero, still oblivious to the dangers of his words.

“WE DO NOT!” You both scream in the poor guys face, when another person arrives at the office door.

“SHUT UP, ALL OF YOU!” The savior of the day, Kirishima appears in the office, his hardened body ready for a fight in between the four of you.

“Thank god.” Sighs the number one hero and collapses on the sofa like a sack of potatoes.

The trust these guys have in Kirishima is amazing. You were so used to seeing him every day, you kinda forgot how strong and reliable he is when it’s needed.

You have the biggest respect for the poor guy, who’s willingly by Dynamight’s side, listening to his yapping every day without being payed for it.

After a few moments of awkward silence, fresh coffee is being served to the two guests; you silently thank Kirishima for taking the burden from your shoulders today.

“So what are you guys doing here today?” You try to start a conversation while sipping your lukewarm coffee.

“Shouto and I were in the area and we thought it would be nice to see Kacchan, as he never replies to me.” Deku gives you a shy smile and damn, number one hero or not, he is absolutely adorable. You are not sure how can he break bones with that cute face.

“YOU thought it would be nice to see Katsuki. I just came along.” Deadpans Shouto with zero emotion on his face until he gets poked in the side by a scrunched faced Deku. Even his angry face is adorable. What is this guy?

And let’s not even talk about the other one… you can’t help but wonder if the handsome fella has any other expressions than the nonchalant, emotionless one he’s wearing now (and in every single interview you were forced to watch with your bestie); does he keep his facade on in the bed as well? You kinda want to investigate that.

Wow, you might need to get laid just as much as your angry boss does.

“Shouto, I told you not to say everything out loud.” Reprimands the green haired hero, reminding you of a kindergarten teacher telling of a child for eating sand.

You can’t help the giggle bubbling up in your throat as you take in the sight in front of you; the two best friends sitting on the sofa, clearly comfortable with each other, the angry sulking blonde next to them, who’s trying to hide his happiness with aggressive expressions and filth coming out of his mouth, the silent presence of Kirishima leaning on the back of the sofa, beaming at the two bickering heroes with pure adoration.

“Stop smiling like a pervert.” Mumbles Mr. Dynamight with a slight blush on his face, staring into the distance to avoid any kind of eye contact.

“How could I NOT smile, you guys are so cute together.”

“Cu…cute?!” Stutters the blonde, face red as a tomato. “What the actual fuck is cute about this?! Did your parents drop you as a child, or what? Also, this meeting is over, everyone fuck off!” Explodes Mr. Katsuki, and starts throwing everyone out of the office one by one; or at least he tries until Deku steps in front of him.

“Wait… I need to talk to you about something.” Says the greenette with a serious expression.

“I knew you fucking want something…” Bakugou rolls his eyes and puts the other hero down on the sofa. “Spill it, you goddamned nerd.” He grumbles while sitting down, ready to listen to Deku’s “annoying” rambling.

“So there is this villain group we are after…”

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Why am I here Mr. Dynamight?!”

That’s the question of the century, to be honest.

As you look around in the area in front of you, you can see nothing but pure destruction; abandoned homes burst in flames, the sky grey and foggy from all the smoke, the pavement broken into chunks of concrete, which makes your steps wobbly and uneven.

This is a war zone. And you are standing right in the middle of it.

“Don’t look so frightened, aren’t you supposed to be a hero?” Answers the blonde with the most nasty tone possible, looking at you like you’re a piece of shit he just stepped on by accident. Well, if he can’t give you a disappointed look as his face is hiding behind a protective mask, he had to make sure his words hurt you just as well as his usual angry face does.

“Kacchan…” sighs Deku with a massive bandage on his right hand, giving you a tiny smile for reassurance. “The fight is over now, most of the villains are already behind bars. This place is supposed to be safe for heroes.“ he explains. “We lost one of the bad guys tho, so we need to investigate the area for clues.”

This still doesn’t explain why are you, a basic-ass secretary, here. You might have been a hero a few months ago, but you are far away from being “battle ready”; you can barely manage the small gigs with the amount of mana you have, as your body is still using up all your energy to heal itself.

“Your shitty quirk is perfect for this investigation. If by any chance there is a sudden fight, you can hide behind my fucking skirt and cry like a looser.” Bakugou snaps at you, while Todoroki rolls his eyes in disapproval.

Wow, that’s a new facial expression! What a day to be alive.

“Why are we friends with him again?” Deadpans the half and half hero, making the blonde angry and furious. As the two start their usual bickering, you sigh into the void and make your way into the ex-battlefield. You take a deep breath and bring out a few different quirks all at once; levitation, x-ray vision and a new one you just came up with; a sensor that tells you the last movements in the area you are looking at.

The burnt down homes in front of you are indeed abandoned but there is one still in tact, away from the burnt area, built extremely close to the forest; compared to the other parts of the battlefield, the house feels lived in, heat-wise.

“Y/N-san, wait for us!” You hear a voice behind your back, but you are too focused on your current task; finding clues about the whereabouts of the last villain stranding.

There are old footprints coming out through the back door, going into the forest; the angle of the footprints indicate…

“Katsuki, behind you!” You scream from the top of your lungs, but it’s too late; the villain jumps out from behind the tree, right next your boss.

“So this is how I fucking die…” You say, while you activate another quirk; teleportation.

In only a millisecond you end up behind the blonde; the villain’s quirk hitting you instead of Bakugou. The world suddenly shifts and you are falling into the eternal nothingness.

Why did you save the person who treats you like shit every single day?

Because your body moved on it’s own.

You are not sorry for doing it either; You can’t help but think about the way he cared for you when you were sick and about how he always brings you coffee, even when he’s being a bitch about it afterwards.

The small acts of kindness say more than the loud words; Bakugou Katsuki might be the biggest asshole in the whole word, but he doesn’t deserve to die; not like this, not right now.

“You fucking idiot!” Screams a voice you know so well, frustrated and confused. Even though you are falling into nothing, you can kinda see what’s happening in the real world; you can see Bakugou kneeling on the floor, looking at the floor where you are supposed to be, you can see Todoroki freezing the villain in one place, handcuffing him with quirk canceling handcuffs, you can see Deku, trying to calm down the crying hero… what?

Is Bakugou crying?! He must be really angry, then.

Suddenly, your back hits the ground; the sun is shining aggressively into your face, making you flinch; you can also hear some happy chatter not too far away from you.

The chatter suddenly stops and there are quick footsteps coming your way; you try to make yourself invisible out of habit, but your quirk decides to act up; you can’t feel the usual warmth of your power anymore.

“I really don’t want to support your stupid conspiracy theory, but… this woman just fell from the sky.” Mumbles a blonde nerdy guy, pushing his glasses up to see you better. His face is soft, but confused, his brows scrunched in an adorable way and it might be because of the pain, but he looks kinda familiar.

Is this… a dream?

“This is not the time for this, Kacchan. She’s hurt!” Reprimands the green haired nerd in the loudest PRIDE t-shirt you’ve ever seen. Is that eyeliner under his eyes? Cute.

Wait…

This isn’t a dream. You would not be able to come up with this shit, even if you tried.

A sudden realization dawns upon you as you stare into those warm, green eyes, dumbfounded.

“Deku?” You mumble incredulously, eyes wide, mouth open. You gawk at the blonde nerd on the other side of you; you are met with the crimson eyes you know so well.

“Bakugou Katsuki?”

This is ridiculous. This can’t be real.

This guy can’t be…

“Do you know us? Are we friends? Please, tell me you are Kacchan’s wife from the future!”

“You rewatched Back To The Future without me, you shitty nerd!” Complains the blonde, clearly offended by his traitor of a friend. “Also, are you my wife from the future? I hope you are.” The blonde sighs.

“Kacchan…” Deku pats his friend’s back apologetically, and Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t pull away.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck.

-> Next Chapter!

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I’m actually so excited for this! I have so many silly ideas! Send me a comment, if you liked it 💜 Tell me your predictions about this alternate universe! :D

Taglist(Want to be added? Just ask in the comments!): @ibkg @chuugarettes @lilmaimai

@nonomesupposedto @sozainturpal @luleck @notplutos

[bardicbeetle]

sitd bsi - the baring of teeth

Today I start NaNo (but that is for the daytime hours) So tonight, have a little blatant self indulgence, have an alternate ending that never was for The Massacre(TM) Warnings for vampire typical violence and blood, and given the context, major character death <3

“Do you think you can stop this?” Eric cracks a smile again, Alex’s blood dripping across his face. “Do you think you can hide from what we are?”

Their legs are shaking. It’s not going to be long before they give back out. “There is no we here.” Alex spits back. “This is a sick fucking power trip you’re pulling. None of them are like you.”

Eric laughs so loud it seems to echo inside their head. “Oh sweetheart, I don’t know what they told you, but Daniel is worse than this. He has always been worse.”

“Shut up.”

“D-”

“I said shut up!” The words leave Alex in a scream that drags all the air from their lungs. It doubles them over, but for a bare moment, Eric is silent.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” Alex whispers, slowly pushing back up to stand straight, “Or how bad you think this is for me, but I have been through too much—lost too much—to let this be the end of it. I’m not about to lay down and die just because some jackass wants to play god.” Every word carries them another step forward, Eric matches them until his back is to the wall. He’s smiling again, that split open grin, not really a smile, just baring teeth.

Alex is hoping for some kind of miracle.

Because once they run out of words, they’ll have nothing.

Somewhere, they wonder if killing Eric would count.

Somewhere else they wonder if they even care.

If he would let them.

If any of it matters now.

“You stand there and think you can make this fucking hurt me—calling me by the wrong name and telling me the people I care about are monsters—I know monsters. I’ve spent my whole goddamn life getting as far away from them as I can. So kill me if you want, make me kill that girl if it gets you off, but you’re nothing, and the second I can, I will take you with me.”

He laughs again, softer, private almost. Like it’s not for them.

“You want to, don’t you.” It’s the first thing he’s said all night that doesn’t carry an edge of mirth. That doesn’t play like some sort of sick joke. “You’re barely upright, barely alive, all rage and adrenaline and desperation. You want to rip into me just to shut my mouth if nothing else.”

“Stop it,” Alex growls, staring him down and fighting the urge to shut their eyes to the vision he’s painting. Everything is so hazy at the edges they’re not sure if the next blink will even result in continued consciousness.

“You think it would feel good don’t you,” Eric whispers, leaning back against the wall now, body relaxing into the brick. “You’re not wrong, nothing better than the moment your fingers run red—but it would be wasted on me. Wouldn’t fix anything. Wouldn’t sate anything.”

“Stop.”

“It’s her you want,” He nods towards the bar where that woman had vanished. Lilacs. Sweet and cloying and overpowering—

Alex shakes their head, regrets it when the room spins. “No. No.”

“Pity,” Eric mumbles, and they wonder again if it’s just for him. It’s not like the rest, it doesn’t project like the words he speaks at them. “I’d let you, you know.”

And those words don’t sound like him.

Alex hears Daniel.

Hears their discussion in the darkened yard.

If I really thought you couldn’t do this, if you didn’t want it—

I’d let you.

I’d let you.

Eric has a stake in one hand—the one he’d made them drop at the house?

“One more round then, —?”

“Stop fucking calling me that.”

He raises both hands in surrender, eyes never leaving theirs.

“Fine. One more round, Alex.” He holds out the stake, blunt edge towards them. “You can kill me, or I can kill you and flower-girl over there. Catch.”

It’s still horrid and mechanical, watching their body move without their own input. But Alex catches the stake as it’s thrown towards them.

“No getting out of it this time. Me, or both of you. Decide. Now.” The room goes airless with those words, heavy and vacant in a way that makes Alex almost drop to their knees.

Decide.

Decide.

I’d let you.

Something breaks.

The haze at the edge of their vision goes red.

Alex has moved before they really realize what’s happening.

To his credit—fuck that, fuck him—Eric is true to his word.

He lets it happen.

Alex’s next moment of clarity is with both hands wrapped around the stake where it’s lodged in his chest. Sliding down the brick with him, inches away from breathless laughter that is getting wetter and redder with every heave. Nothing is different. Nothing changes. Their body is still screaming and raw and starving.

It's almost a relief.

“Told you,” Eric chokes out, one hand lifting to their face. Still wet with the blood of one of the many dead. Alex’s blood now mingling with his own as it runs from behind his lips. “but just in case—kill her.”

~*~

@cjjameswriting / @falling-rivers / @maabonwrites / @blve0 / @inexorableblob / @blueberrypoptart / @betwixtofficial / @drowsy-quill / @ezwriting / @ofinscriptions / @vaguelyhumanekid / @meatandboneasmr / @h-faith-marr-writeblr / @necros-writings / @poetinprose / @flyingbananasaur / @oldestenemy / @multi-lefaiye / @dotr-rose-love / @abalonetea / @albatris / @incandescent-creativity / @kaiusvnoir /

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael After Midnight: "Sir Psycho Sexy" by the Red Hot Chili Peppers

For April Fool’s 2024, I decided to do a bit inspired by Todd in the Shadows called Ford Analyzes Tunes And Song Stuff, or FATASS for short (a little nod to how Todd’s moniker can be shortened to TITS). Basically people would send me a song, and I would give some wacky analysis or review of the song that was probably the opposite of my actual, genuine opinion. For example, for Nickleback’s “Photoraph,” I claimed the entire song was actually a bittersweet gay romance. It was a fun exercise in crafting absurdity from even the most mundane or stupid lyrics. But it did leave me wanting to review a song for real… and what better than one of my favorite songs of all time?

The Red Hot Chili Peppers are a band that need no introduction, but I’ll do it in case some of you out there don’t listen to good music and/or hate California: RHCP is a funk/alternative rock band formed in 1982, though they didn’t really cement their status as one of the best bands around until their release of the alt rock classic Blood Sugar Sex Magik in 1991, an album that produced the personal and powerful “Under the Bridge,” the hard rocking “Suck My Kiss,” and the all-time banger “Give It Away.” It’s a fantastic album, one of the most influential of its time, and many regard it as RHCP’s best work—including the band’s bassist, Flea. I’m certainly inclined to agree; it’s a nice middle ground between their heavily funk-influenced early work and their later more radio-friendly rock tunes. Don’t get the wrong idea here—they were, and still are, a very good band—but I think in my opinion the 90s were the decade where they really stood out from the crowd as trailblazers in the rock scene.

With that out of the way, it’s time to single out my absolute favorite song on the album to talk about: An eight minute long track titled “Sir Psycho Sexy.” With a title like that and an impressive length to match, you know you’re in for something bonkers, and I’d say the song delivers in spades; it’s a funky rap rock epic that is hornier than almost any song before or since. The rizz the titular Sir Psycho Sexy of the song displays is beyond that of any mortal man, and it is simply glorious. This song is also a song that inspired one of my Ocs—Flynn Dangerfield from the Rhine City series my wife and I are working on. If you’re unfamiliar with the character (and you shouldn’t be, the rough drafts for the story are pinned at the top of my blog), this is like if Alex Hirsch said Dipper and Mable were actually inspired by Flowers in the Attic.

If you don’t believe me, then read on as I riff on one of my favorite songs and showcase the brilliant lyrical insanity of a 90s rock band that was likely high as a kite while writing this. Also, this is your warning: These lyrics are insanely NSFW. This isn’t nearly as bad as the last song I riffed on, “Pregnant Pussy,” but it’s up there. You’ve been warned.

So this song is sort of a story, and every story has a main character. And what a character we have here; Sir Psycho Sexy is his name, and getting pussy is his game. How does one introduce such a man?

A long, long, long, long time ago Before the wind, before the snow Lived a man, lived a man I know Lived a freak of nature named Sir Psycho

Not a bad way to start things. Lead singer Anthony Kiedis really sets up Sir Psycho as some ancient, powerful force of nature, a being who has existed as long as there were babes to fuck and who is so eternal he was there before wind or snow. Mind you, this is before we get into all of his insane sexual feats and astounding prowess with the ladies, so we have the coolest guy in the universe right here. Let’s see what else there is to say about him:

Sir Psycho Sexy that is me Sometimes I find I need to scream

Oh. Ok then. So Anthony Kiedis is Sir Psycho Sexy. This is either self-insert Mary Sue fanfiction, or it’s an autobiographical tale describing things that actually happened. Let’s be super duper charitable and call it the latter. At any rate, the fact he just likes to scream sometimes is universally relatable.

Still, you may not be convinced how good the song is from this opener, as it can come off as blatant wish fulfillment fantasy. Thankfully, the second verse opens with the greatest lyrics ever written by a human hand:

Deep inside the garden of Eden Standing there with my hard on bleedin' There's a devil in my dick and some demons in my semen Good God no that would be treason

This is absolutely blasphemous, disgusting, degenerate, explicit, and one of the funniest fucking set of lyrics to ever be in a song. “There’s a devil in my dick and some demons in my semen” is not a phrase you hear every day, and it certainly won’t leave your head after you hear it. And don’t worry; things only get better from here!

Believe me Eve she gave good reason Booty looking too good not to be squeezin' Creamy beaver hotter than a fever I'm a givin' 'cause she's the receiver I won't and I don't hang up until I please her Makin' her feel like an over achiever I take it away for a minute just to tease her Then I give it back a little bit deeper

So I don’t know what could be expected, but Sir Psycho plowing the Biblical Eve is probably not the sort of thing you could imagine when first popping in to listen to this song. When you take into account his ancient nature from the first verse and the fact he’s got his boner dripping blood in Eden in the first few lines of verse two, this is really the only logical next step though. The real question here is, is Sir Psycho supposed to be Adam, or has Sir Psycho tied up Adam to watch as he busts in Eve more times than should be humanly possible? If he’s “Makin’ her feel like an over achiever,” I’ve gotta imagine he’s not stopping after round one, two, or even three. I do like the detail that Sir Psycho won’t give up until he pleases her; it’s very cool and considerate that he cares enough about his lover to ensure her satisfaction too.

I got stopped by a lady cop In my automobile She said get out and spead your legs And then she tried to cop a feel

Verse three begins with an extremely sad case of police brutality and sexual assault. Poor Sir Psycho was just driving along, minding his own business, when he’s pulled over for no crime whatsoever; the cop just wanted to fondle him. These lyrics really say a lot about our society, and the state of the police force in America when even gorgeous immortal studs aren’t safe from the pigs.

That cop she was all dressed in blue Was she pretty? Boy I'm tellin' you She stuck my butt with her big black stick I said, "What's up?" now suck my dick

Some interesting tidbits of information here: Sir Psycho enjoys being pegged, and he has a death wish. What kind of absolute madman says that to a cop that has them at his mercy? Does he really think he can turn the tab--

Like a ram getting ready to jam the lamb She whimpered just a little when she felt my hand On her crotch so very warm I could feel her getting wet through her uniform Proppin' her up on the black and white Unzipped and slipped, "Ooh, that's tight" I swatted her like no swat team can Turned a cherry pie right into jam

Are we sure this man is Anthony Kiedis and not British Prime Minister David Cameron? Cuz he sure does like fucking pigs! Sir Psycho, with his ancient pornomancy powers, takes “fuck the police” to a whole new level, completely turning around whatever situation he’d gotten himself into.

And now we get a shift in the instrumentation, and the lyrics kind of mellow out and almost feel a little romantic(at least in a 90s funk rock way):

Hello young woman that I love Pretty punk rock mama that I'm thinking of Hold me naked if you will In your arms in your legs in your pussy I'd kill To be with you, to kiss with you, I do miss you I love you Lay me down, lay me down, lay me down, lay me down Lay me down, lay me down, lay me down, lay me down Descending waves of graceful pleasure For your love there is no measure Her curves they bend with subtle splendor

This part genuinely feels so tender and, while it is extremely horny, Sir Psycho seems especially reverent of this woman, this amazing “punk rock mama.” I kind of think this segment pulls the entire song together, giving us a brief respite from the more overt sexuality and into something that genuinely sounds sweet, albeit in a decidedly horny sort of way.

Of course, we soon get back to Sir Psycho’s usual escapades in the final verse:

Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the funk will make me freak If I should die before I waked Allow me Lord to rock out naked

And after this, we get kinky before wrapping up this song and heading to an extended instrumental outro:

Bored by the ordinary time to take a trip Calling up a little girl with a bull whip Lickety split go snap, snap Girl gettin' off all in my lap The tallest tree the sweetest sap Blowin' my ass right off the map Ooh and it's nice out here I think I'll stay for a while

So full disclosure, this really, genuinely is one of my favorite songs of all time, and perhaps my favorite RHCP song. It’s so audacious, in-your-face, and unabashedly horny, and in a day and age when people seem hellbent on removing sex from art, it’s nice to go back to a simpler, sluttier time and jam out. Is the length a bit excessive? Sure, probably, but length like this is all Sir Psycho is capable of.

The song is honestly not too dissimilar from the last song I reviewed, “Pregnant Pussy” by UGK… at least in terms of audacity. Where that song was trying to be as disgusting and depraved as possible to get a reaction from the listener, essentially being the nastiest troll song you’ll ever here, this song is just very upfront with its sheer horniness. It only barely eases you in, with the opening leading right into blasphemous boasting and dick blood, and it just never stops. It slows down a bit in a couple parts, but overall it really is just an unrelenting force. The song’s length isn’t something you ever really feel, because it just goes from one dirty lyric to the next.

But I think the most important thing the song does is remind us we all have a little Sir Psycho Sexy inside us, and we all have been standing the garden of Eden with our hard on’s bleeding while there were devils in our dick and demons in our semen. Maybe the real dick devils were the friends we made along the way.

[merge-conflict]

I Got You Babe

an alternate path for thread-safe, where instead of successfully retrieving valentine, goro gets caught up by her allies, none of which are happy to see him. (unfinished, but I kind of like it and it's my blog so whatever) 2.5k under the cut so don't say I didn't warn ya.

Goro can’t see or hear, but he knows he’s been propped up in a chair, most likely tied down although he’s been drugged so heavily it’s hard to tell. The steady cool stream of air over his skin means he’s inside somewhere, and while he’s lost a bit of time, it’s not enough for them to have taken him out of the city. There’s nothing else he can do now but wait, which leaves him with the uncomfortable prospect of being alone with his thoughts. He holds an image of V in his mind, of her sitting on the chair in front of the window, leaning on her elbows, her wrecked voice repeating It would be kinder just to kill me. The grief keeps him conscious, in a torturous haze which is far less than he deserves.

Yet the uncomfortable pop of his hearing returning snaps him out of a light doze, and he instinctively tries to pull his arms free and fails, all his still limbs heavy and clumsy. Whatever they’ve given him is starting to wear off, and his face aches terribly. His vision comes back all at once, albeit with his HUD disabled and his left eyelid stubbornly gummed shut, probably by blood.

“Can you hear me?” Rogue asks, appraising him as he raises his head to look up at her.

“Yes,” he answers. His tongue feels thick, the inside of his mouth furry. “I can hear you.”

“Good. I have a few questions for you.”

“I cannot promise answers.”

There’s a sharp exhale of breath to his left, and he turns his head to see V leaning against a dresser with her teeth bared. She’s not looking at him but her shoulders hunch under the weight of his gaze. There’s a section of the wood under her left hand where she’s worn away the finish with her fidgeting thumb, and he wonders how long the two of them have been here. They have him in some well-furnished bedroom, and the pile of clothes on the floor by V’s foot tells him it’s hers.

It’s sloppy work, but then there’s no reason for them to worry about him knowing where they are. He is simply easier to control when he is blind, and deaf. Having broken through his defenses, Alt may simply puppet him however she pleases. Arasaka already knows where they are.

“You came here alone?” Rogue asks, regaining his attention.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To bring back V.”

“Alone?” She repeats, dubious. Inviting him to reconsider. “No backup? No extraction team?”

“It would have worked,” V hisses, in a voiceless whisper it takes him some time to understand. She is speaking more carefully than usual, enunciating her consonants sharply to make up for her lack of volume. For the damage he's done to her, written in red angry prints around her neck. “If he hadn’t told me what happened.”

Rogue frowns at her, but her annoyance is muted. They both look as tired as he feels, although far more clear-headed. Perhaps more alert than clear-headed, given V’s state of agitation. “I’m not asking you.”

“Interrogating him is pointless,” V insists. “He’s not going to give you anything more than what we already know.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Rogue replies, a sharp edge appearing in her voice that makes V flinch and huddle into herself. “You can be quiet or you can leave.”

Rogue resumes her interrogation, this time without interruption. He plays his part, answering her simple questions and avoiding her probes, settling into the familiar rhythm. She’s frustrated, if not surprised by his endurance, but it becomes clear there will be no escalation– no threats, no pain, no sweating and screaming, no sputtering gasping burning for air. Just V, silent and stone-faced, running her fingers over every inch of her chrome hand and forearm, like she’s testing the sensitivity. There’s a purpose to it, a repetitive, predictable soothing.

The exercise is pointless, because of her presence. Because he doubts that Rogue is sparing him out of her own principles, or any respect for his well being. In fact, it tells him about V’s level of influence here. Far more than he expected, which also explains much about her decision to come to him alone. It should be comforting, given the alternative, but instead it makes him feel ill. He stops answering Rogue’s questions, closing his eyes and letting his chin fall to his chest.

He doesn’t look up again until he hears another sharp exhale from V– frustration and anger. She moves to the side of the door and waits until Silverhand has burst through it to grab him, one arm wrapped around his neck as she drags him away from his intended path. Her technique is clumsy at best, but as soon as she manages to wrench one of his arms behind him there’s nothing he can do to break free, though he puts a hole through one of the walls in an attempt. Rogue stands warily out of their way. Silverhand continues to struggle and swear until V sinks her bared teeth into his shoulder and he falls abruptly quiet, both of them breathing heavily as they sway against each other.

“Are you done?” Rogue asks them both.

“Are you?” Silverhand snaps back. It’s uncanny, recognizing his snarl on Hellman’s features, and seeing the changes he’s made to his stolen body: the chin-length dyed hair, the tanktop revealing new muscle and the unfinished lines of a tattoo designed to cover his entire left arm. A transformation still in progress. “V’s right– he’s not going to tell us a damned thing. Might as well put this sorry sack of shit out of his fucking misery.”

“You do that,” V replies, voice fading sharply in and out in her anger, “and you’ll be next.”

“Would it not be kinder just to kill me?” Goro asks.

She looks him straight in the eye, unflinching. “I guess we’ll never find out.”

“You’re so desperate to suck his cock again, why don’t you do it now?” Silverhand tests her hold, which is starting to slip with her attention. “That’s all you’ll ever get out of him. Isn’t that how it works? Fuck him once and he’ll tell you how they stole your soul, fuck him again maybe he’ll tell you how sorry he is about it.”

V hisses something in answer that is too garbled and soft for him to catch, but which makes Silverhand laugh harshly. He pulls away sharply while she’s distracted, and breaks free, pinning her to the wall even as she wrestles with him. They’re the same height but he has the advantage of strength, and he pulls her into a possessive kiss. Even that seems to be a struggle for control, and despite himself Goro finds that he’s testing the strength of his bonds, picturing what it would be like to crush Silverhand’s throat in his hands.

Rogue watches almost impassively, as though this is a common occurrence– and perhaps it is, as it becomes clear despite their anger that there is some boundary of violence which they are skirting but will not step over. They play fight like dogs, snapping and growling but never drawing blood.

“Tell me,” Goro says, bitterly, “Am I the one who is desperate?”

Rogue laughs, though with very little actual amusement. “He’s right, Johnny,” she says. “This is more important than your dick measuring contest.”

“Sorry to interrupt you at your work,” he sneers. “If you really want to get something out of him, let Alt have a piece.”

“What is it you would like me to do?” Alt asks, her voice in Goro’s ear, addressing all of them the same way. “I am not a torturer, nor do I intend to become one.”

“Tell that to Smasher.”

“He is not Smasher,” V protests, hands balled in Silverhand’s shirt.

“Sure, Smasher still has his balls.”

Her only response is the swift chop of her chrome hand to this throat, which catches him by surprise. While he coughs and sputters she shoves him aside, brushing past Rogue and moving to stand by Goro’s blind side with her hip just touching his arm.

“Why don’t we pair off?” she says, still in hissing whisper. “Those who set off an atomic bomb in a populated city, and those who didn’t?”

This time Rogue is the one angry, though perhaps only because Silverhand has not yet caught his breath. “You really want to defend Arasaka, right now? Here? To us?”

“It’s not Arasaka I am defending,” V answers, in a heated rush. “But if you think so, then you don’t know me at all.”

“Better than you think,” Rogue replies, and looks at Silverhand. He’s recovered enough to stand upright, but his eyes are murderous.

“Get out,” V says, softly, at a level where she can still produce sound. She’s as deadly serious as he’s ever heard her. More confident then when she had defended herself to him. “Take him with you.”

Rogue looks at her for a long moment, studying her face before nodding curtly. Silverhand’s mouth curls into V’s contemptuous sneer– a dizzyingly perfect recreation, and then he stalks out of the room, brushing past Kerry Eurodyne, who is leaning against the doorway without quite being in the room. He lingers even after Rogue has left, looking first and V and then at Goro himself, frowning.

“Ker,” V says, her hand pressing down on Goro’s shoulder as she leans some of her weight onto him. “Can you get me the medkit?”

“What are you going to do with him?”

Her grip tightens slightly. “Clean his face.”

“Not what I meant.”

“I know.”

He is oddly melancholic for a man who is always either playing to the cameras or screaming at the paparazzi. It’s his money that brought them this bastion of safety in a city outside of Arasaka’s sphere of control and yet he does not seem to expect his opinion to matter. Nor, it seems, does anyone else.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“If things had worked out differently,” she says, with some difficulty. “If things had worked out differently and I was the one sent out here to get Johnny, what then?”

“He’s not going to see it that way.”

She makes some gesture that Goro can’t see, and Kerry smiles. He’s handsome, of course, but this smile makes him look every inch his age. Weary and bitter. The gold of his cyberware is not the veneer of youth, but a mark showing where he has been so carefully put back together. He disappears quietly, closing the door behind him.

V crouches down beside Goro’s chair, resting her arm just above the mangled remains of his knee. “If I untie you are you going to try to fight me?”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, thinking of how naturally she and Silverhand had fallen into it. How she had broken a chair over his arm and cut his face before calling for help. “To fight?”

V only smiles sadly. “No.”

He wants to stay bitter, but in the force of both her honesty and her protection he cannot. “I will not fight you.”

Even after she’s released him he is far from free– whether it is a drug or something Alt has done, he is clumsy and uncoordinated, his limbs responding sluggishly to every movement. He cannot stand on his own, but must lean on V, once again reliant on her good favor. She grants him some privacy to use the bathroom and when he is finished brings another chair in with her and sets it down next to the sink, depositing him into it before sitting in his lap.

He closes his eyes while she works to soak the bandages off his face, enduring the pain from the broken skin, patched together with uncomfortable butterfly stitches. A pile of pink stained washcloths grows on the counter, but she still has more to go before Kerry returns bearing the familiar bright green medkit.

“Really did a number on him,” he remarks, leaning back against the column of the shower, apparently here to stay.

“It is not so bad,” Goro replies, and V lets out a strangled laugh, leaning to rest her forehead against his.

“What’s another few scars?” she asks in whisper.

“You could have done much worse.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but her hands are as steady and gentle as ever. Eventually she finishes cleaning the wounds and applies some gel that numbs the pain. By the time she secures a few protective bandages he is beginning to drowse again, replete with the sensation of her fingertips running over his undamaged skin– a tenderness he does not deserve.

“I don’t get it,” Kerry says, voice pitched low. “What kept you apart? You’re obviously…“ He trails off, and Goro makes the effort to open his eyes to see V’s distant stare.

“It only makes sense,” V says, frowning down at his hands, which she has folded on her lap. “You need someone who doesn’t want anything besides keeping Arasaka safe. Everything else is a weakness that can be exploited.”

“If you say so.” Kerry sounds almost disgusted, a surprisingly sentimental position. “But I guess corps don’t get rich by taking care of their grunts.”

“You are a wealthy man.” Goro says, tone mild. “Who have you helped?”

“Me,” V says, sharply. “And Johnny and Rogue and Alt. He’s the only one of any of them who didn’t consider just killing you, Goro. Got the cleanest hands here.”

Goro turns his head, to see Kerry looking at V with something like regret. He manages to draw the other man’s attention. “Even so. I think you understand that it is not always so easy.”

“I don’t understand anything you corpos do,” he mutters, crossing his arms. “But if you had gotten your shit together before now you might not be here with half your face ripped to shreds.”

“Watch your glass penthouses,” V says. The warning means nothing to Goro but makes Kerry grimace before the expression flits away.

“You think I can’t give out good advice?” he asks, flashing a charming smile. “Can tell you a lot of what not to do.”

“Little late for that,” she says, and they all fall silent. Her hand goes to the undamaged side of Goro’s face, and she chews on the inside of her lip, avoiding his eyes as she looks at him. “What are we going to do with you, my dear?”

“Why not keep him?” Kerry suggests.

“Keep him?” V echoes, voice cutting out in her anger. “I’m not a fucking jailer.”

“Hey– it’s not what I meant,” he says, sounding genuinely sorry. “I just mean, Arasaka clearly has you both tied up in knots, playing you off each other. How much of that are you gonna sit back and take?”

“Why not just leave?” V says, still petulant. “Why stay? Why stay so long? How could you let it get so bad?”

“Fuck you,” Kerry says, with venom this time. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“Who knows better than me just how similar they are?” She pauses, breathing irregularly, perilously close to weeping. “Trying to please someone who’ll never be happy? Trying to live on scraps while you’re starving? Terrified of losing what little you have?” Her voice breaks, retreating into the harsh whisper. “C’mon, Ker– tell me what’s different?”