#got another head injury and lost three days of memories | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whxre-bxby · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing.

I can't get an idea/senario out of my head so if you have the time, could you please do a poly recom squad x recom reader where reader gets kidnapped by Jake and the metkayina clan as retaliation for the recoms kidnapping tuk, lo'ak and tsireya. Then they refuse to let reader go even after they got their kids back because jake want to know how they're alive and he kinda hurts/scares/threatens reader and then the recom squad come to rescue her. And when they're on base again they won't stop worrying about her and maybe some smut?

(Thank you for this idea! It had people waiting for this to release)

"Vengeance Turns To Desire"

Recoms (Quaritch/Lyle/Mansk/Lopez/Prager/Ja)x Recom Y/N

A/N: sorry for always eliminating our lady recoms. This is by far the longest fanfic I have ever written and I lost my mind while writing countless times. Eat it up.

Masterlist

Summary: Jake captures Y/N, inflicting pain on her to get answers. But the recoms refuse to leave her there so they go and rescue Y/N. Once back in safety, emotions and feelings spiral out of control.

WARNINGS: smut, ANGST, violence, blood, injuries, fluff, hurt/comfort, penetration, double-penetration, unprotected sex, voyeurism, smut with multiple people at once, blowjobs,

Word Count: 14,771 (50 pages, holy shit I know)

In the military, everything is ordered and organised. There is a structure in the daily tasks of an individual. A plan. And things are meant to go according to plan.

Today, things did not go according to plan. Everything is utter chaos.

I’m Y/N. A recom soldier, with the sole life purpose of successfully completing my assigned mission along with the rest of my squad. That mission is to hunt down and kill Jake Sully, a man who once lived among us and who, a few years back, decided to switch sides. Now, Jake is a Na’vi in an Avatar body and no longer a human.

We marines aren’t human anymore either. Our old bodies died and we are artificially made Avatars who have been given the deceased soldier’s memories. It’s why we exist.

Since we are the RDA’s front-line combat team, we were sent out into the world. To explore Pandora as fake natives and find Sully. Our mission status was progressing and reached a peak when we stumbled upon what we assumed were Jake’s kids in the forest. Unfortunately for us, we didn’t manage to keep them hostage for long. He and his partner attacked us, taking back their kids except for the human boy. The Colonel found him injured and on the ground. But he was alive, so the mission was called off for the day. At least we were able to bring back some source of information, even if not every soldier who left the RDA base returned home…

Time went by fast when one’s life is on the line. Things also got more challenging when we realised that our enemy left the shared biome we were in. So we had to continue our search and use other tactics to get information out of others. The recom team was running out of time, so violence became a favoured option. Morals were already long forgotten. It seemed as though it was either our life or theirs.

We found Sully and his family near the coastlines of Pandora, cowering away in a clan of a different kind. The Na’vi that lived here were different.

Jake introduced the RDA to the ocean Na’vi, which added them to the blacklist the RDA ran. He didn’t seem to know that he endangered all of them too.

Very soon, our mission had no structure. We were acting on instincts and instincts alone because often, we couldn’t assume what was awaiting us. Pandora often fired many cruel surprises our way.

In the end, one thing led to another and we were on a ship, fighting off the savage natives that had found us. Quaritch had three more kids that most likely belonged to Sully or at least someone close to him, handcuffed to a rail on deck. He seemed to like the hostage trick, probably hoping Sully would give up his life for theirs.

That’s what is happening right now. I’m standing on deck, along with the Colonel, Lyle, Prager, Z-Dog, Mansk, Lopez and Ja. We are all that’s left of the Deja Blu team.

I’m holding an assault rifle in my hands, keeping my eyes trained on the approaching Na’vi in the distance. No matter how unsure I feel about all of this, I have to stay composed and focused. I faintly hear the Colonel talking to Jake through the earpiece one of the kids had. He seems to be trying to lure him out on his own in exchange for the kids. Everything is finally seeming to go well. Jake is coming to us alone and for once, we are in control of the situation. Or at least that’s what we think. There’s a deadly silence on board the SeaDragon for a while. One which is abruptly ended when a Tulkun comes crashing out from the surface of the ocean, landing on the ship. The sudden action stuns everyone and causes all the Na’vi in the distance to take the opportunity of our vulnerability and attack.

My heart is pounding in my chest when I fall to the ground and see the huge whale struggle on board. My instincts scream at me to attack it, so I do. Swiftly sitting up, I raise my arms and aim them at the gigantic creature. Without a second of hesitation, my fingers hold down the trigger and I’m firing at it, soon realising its skin is unpenetrable with bullets. That doesn’t stop me from trying to find a weak spot though. Chaos breaks out as I start hearing shouts and screams around me. The rest of the team is on the other side of the Tulkun, separating me from them.

A sudden surge of panic flows through my body and my heartbeat picks up, but I continue to do what they are. Attacking the hostile animal.

But that doesn’t last very long. Its tail fin lifts into the air as it tries to move and slams down next to me, making me roll to the side to dodge it. I see it lift from the corner of my eye again before it collides with the deck once more, this time breaking the ground beneath me. In moments, I’m on my feet, trying to move away from the broken-off part of the ship but before I can even comprehend what happened, I’m thrown off board and into the water. The whale’s strong fin swung against my middle, effortlessly knocking me off my feet and causing me to be submerged in water.

My weapon swung in a different direction and I can’t see it anymore. But that isn’t my main concern at the moment. I’m running out of air and my lungs are aching, forcing me to swim up to the surface to breathe. I feel weighed down and still in shock from what just happened, but I manage.

My head breaks through the surface of the water and I gasp for air. A small sense of relief manages to prevent my heart from pounding through my skin and out of my chest. I swim in one spot for mere moments, thinking about how to get back on the ship. But in that same moment, I watch that option die out when something sharp closes around my calf and pulls me down into the ocean again. I can see how I’m being distanced from the surface and the light. A look of horror paints my face and helplessness makes me feel like I’m already drowning when I turn around to see a water Na’vi on some sea creature, pulling me after them. The animal whose head looks similar to that of a crocodile has its mouth clamped down around my leg. A small trail of blood, oozing from my injury with the speed that it’s swimming through the water. The Na’vi occasionally turns around and soon, I realise I’m surrounded by them. But they don’t let me go. The animal keeps its teeth sunk deep into the flesh of my calf. My vision starts to blur and grow darker because I’m running out of air again. But looking up, I realise how far away from the surface I am. I wouldn’t even be able to swim that in time. So naturally, everything starts to fade and I lose consciousness, assuming this is my death.

Day One:

My ears are ringing and I hear faint, muffled voices as my eyes start to open. Finally, I’m met with light once again. My lungs are calmly inhaling and exhaling unlike before and I feel myself sitting on the ground. A ground which seems very unfamiliar to me.

In front of me, I watch as my awakening seems to stir restlessness and start a commotion. The figures which I now realise are Na’vi have all stood up and backed away from me.

I groan in pain, pushing my back off the wall behind me. My hands want to come up and palm my forehead to ease me back into reality but they can’t. My movement has been restricted while I was out and only now can I feel the tight rope binding my wrists together.

The voices are talking in a language I don’t understand. Must be Na’vi. My legs are outstretched before me and my eyes stop when I properly see my wound. It’s big. The bite marks are visible and my blood has stained my skin and soaked the unusually woven floor beneath me.

Another figure walks in but my mind is too hazy after everything that has happened to properly pay attention to my surroundings. Tiredly, I let my head fall back against the woven wall, trying to focus on my breathing instead of the pain in my right leg.

“See that Quaritch? That’s right. I got one of y’er soldiers.” I hear someone say in English. My weak body responds and my ears twitch forwards. I open my eyes, looking through the small strands of hair shielding my face to see… Jake Sully.

Suddenly, my body seems to properly jolt awake and my heartbeat picks up again, pumping adrenaline through my veins. Sully had captured me.

I stare up at him in shock, finally having the strength to look around and take in my surroundings. His stare is hard and he seems to show me no mercy.

I also notice he’s holding what looks like a camera in his hand and he’s pointing it at me.

The Na’vi around me have stepped out of the camera’s frame while I was coming to my senses and now I can recognise his partner. I think her name is Neytiri. A harsh glare covers her expression.

“You know what I want.” Jake snarls, pressing the radio call button he has around his neck. He seems to be talking to Quaritch through the earpiece.

“Give me my goddamn kids otherwise I’ll kill ‘er.” Sully says and I can hear the desperation in his voice. The threat is loud and clear.

I watch helplessly as he draws a knife from the holster around his torso and walks right up to me. Instinctively, I want to move away and I struggle against the ropes. My leg moves and I whine out in pain, clenching my teeth together to stay silent. It is best to stay silent in hostage situations.

Jake crouches down next to me and points the camera at my trembling leg.

“See? I ain’t joking.” he adds, gripping my ankle and lifting my leg. I gasp, sinking my own teeth into my bottom lip. Unfortunately, that doesn’t prevent the pained whimper from leaving my mouth. I don’t want them to know I was in pain. I don’t want to seem weak.

He looks at me, taking note of my reaction before almost carelessly dropping my leg. I throw my head back and clench my eyes closed. My lips are pressed together, muffling my cry.

Jake points the video camera at my face and I glance into the lens before looking away in shame. His hand comes up and he grips my jaw, tilting my head to the side to show a wound I had on my neck before doing the same on the other side. Quaritch must have said something that made Jake smirk.

“Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?” Sully adds, digging his fingers against my jaw and forcing me to look up at him.

“I want all three of ‘em back by the end of today.” Jake snarls, roughly pushing my head away and letting go of me.

I smirk. Even with all the pain and horror, I manage to be myself.

Jake notices and continues to point the lens at me.

“Damn, all three?” I ask, before nodding with a grin. I didn’t expect them to get away with our previous three hostages.

Jake glares daggers at me. “Yeah, all three.” he snarls. “And I’m gettin’ ‘em all back too.”

“That’s three lives vs. one. You kidding?” I ask, before coughing lightly. “Don’t do it.” My eyes meet the camera lens again. I was talking to Quaritch, or whoever was watching.

I hear Jake growl before he adjusts his grip on his knife and presses it against my neck. It makes me shut up but I can’t loosen my facial muscles to stop my grin. The blade is pressing into my skin uncomfortably but not harshly enough to slice through my skin.

Jake is staring into my eyes and I can tell he’s in deep thought. Nevertheless, he looks enraged. His ears are flattened all the way back and he bares his fangs when he speaks.

“She’s gonna die here, Quaritch. I’ll make sure to make it last as long as possible.” Jake hisses, keeping the knife firmly pressed against the side of my throat. His ears twitch forwards when he hears Quaritch respond.

His eyes are focused on mine but he’s listening to what the Colonel is saying on the other line. Jake presses his lips together in a frown, harshly glaring at me one last time before nodding and pulling his hand away.

I exhale deeply in relief. A breath I didn’t know I was holding. Blood lightly trickles down my neck. Jake must have broken through a layer of skin with his blade. The cut burns but it is bearable.

Jake gets up from the ground, peering down at me before shutting off the video camera and turning away.

“I want ‘em back by tonight. And if anythin’s happened to ‘em-” Jake pauses, wiping his hand over his face in stress. “I won’t hesitate to kill her.”

Once again, he firmly nods before motioning something to Neytiri. She walks up to him and they both leave after she turns and looks at me once more. Disgust and hatred were emitted through her look. It’s very clear that I am not wanted here.

As they leave, I overhear them exchange a few words in Na’vi.

“Should we get her ready for the exchange?” Neytiri asks. Jake looks at her with a pause before answering.

“No.” he mumbles, and his answer surprises her. “We can use her against them.”

His partner looks at him with wide eyes and he shrugs. “She won’t leave here alive.”

His last sentence sounds like an order. One I cannot understand.

My sense of time is gone. I don’t know whether it’s still the same day or whether I had been out for multiple days. But it doesn’t seem to matter because I know no one will tell me anyway. What is confusing me is how the Colonel and my team managed to escape that hellish chaos alive and with the kids. But I have the rest of the day to think about that now.

After a few hours, I notice it’s dark outside. There are two armed Na’vi outside the odd-looking hut I’m in, but nothing is happening. I haven’t seen Jake since the interaction we had earlier. But I felt like I was waiting for him to come and get me. From what I understood from the talk he had with Quaritch, Jake wanted to trade me against his kids. An offer which still seems stupid to me.

We had already lost half our squad and Quaritch never seemed too moved by their death. So why would my life matter to him? I’m one person. An Avatar they can grow again if they deem it necessary. They have three hostages. Kids with information about everything we need to know. I think it’s clear that I’m not going back. But despite that, I stayed awake in hopes of Jake returning to bring me back to them. I want to go back. I don’t feel ready to die here. Not when we have so much to still see on this planet. Even though Pandora is our enemy, I’m amazed by the beauty of nature every time we go out. The power the forests hold.

Day Two:

Sunlight shines through my eyelids, making it impossible for me to continue sleeping. Wait- I slept through the night. The night that I was meant to return home if the deal worked.

My body jolts awake in panic and the sudden movements pain my leg, making me tense up and freeze. I look around me to find a once again empty room. Shit. I promised myself last night I wouldn’t sleep until I return to the RDA.

Hours went by and I was still left alone in the tent-like hut. Usually, when hearing waves softly crash and distant noises of animals and people, one would find the atmosphere quite relaxing. But the silence was almost eery to me. I was left alone with my thoughts and it made me sick. My body was sore from not being able to move and my calf muscle was throbbing with pain. The wound I had gotten was left untreated and I was being neglected. Not that I expected to be taken care of. I didn’t. But actually experiencing this is different to imagining how it would be.

My thoughts wandered. Jake wasn’t back. Perhaps the trade hadn’t worked. Maybe the RDA refused to give up the kids. If that were true, it doesn’t surprise me. That’s probably why I’m still here. Quaritch must have chosen to keep them hostage over saving me. I felt miserable and abandoned but if I were in his place, I would have left me too.

Perhaps the recoms took one look at my leg and decided I was basically already dead. A wounded soldier is useless in times of war. Why bother to help me?

Day Three:

I barely slept. Even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t rest. My entire body ached from not moving. My shoulders were becoming agonisingly sore from my hands being tied behind my back and my leg had finally stopped bleeding but it was swollen. The bite marks were deep and my blood looked infected.

A Na’vi came into my room. She was from the water clan but I didn’t mind because I saw she was holding water and food. The girl looked young too and somehow oddly familiar. As if I’ve seen her before.

Of course, she wasn’t alone. A large Na’vi followed her, holding a spear. His face and chest had tribal tattoos and he stood by the doorway, watching over the girl. Most likely her father.

More people walked in and I spotted Jake between them. He walked up to me and was hesitantly followed by a few kids.

His eyes scanned me over before he nodded at the girl next to me. She put the small basket down and gave me water while Jake discussed something with the man watching over the girl.

I gulped down everything in the bottle. Finally, my throat wasn’t as dry as before.

“Recognise them?” Jake asked me, motioning to the children. The girl next to me stepped to the side and kept a ‘safe’ distance.

I look at the kids one by one. I knew two of them were his because their skin was a darker blue than the rest. But in the end, he could have many kids we don’t know about. But yes, they do look familiar. Then again, I’m really not in the right state of mind right now to be thinking about things like that.

I stay silent and return my gaze to Jake.

He smirks. “These are the kids you took.”

My eyes widen a little more and I instantly start to examine them again. He got them back?

“They’re home and safe from you monsters.”

My ears flatten back at his remark. He wasn’t wrong but I didn’t like hearing it.

“What’s your name?” he asks, but I stay silent. He doesn’t need to know that.

Jake scoffs at my reaction before kneeling down next to me and pulling my dog tag out from beneath my torn tank top.

I watch him read my name before he diverts his eyes to look at me again.

“I tricked your friends, Y/N.” Jake snarled at me malevolently. “I got what I wanted and I have you.”

My heart sinks as I hear this information.

“If they’re still alive, I can tell you right now, they’re sure as hell not coming to get you.”

I felt sick to my stomach. The feeling of helplessness when your world starts to suddenly completely fall apart makes me feel like I’m drowning. It really was all over now. I’m going to live as long as they feel like it. But this is where I will stay.

The girl reappears next to me, holding fruit in her hands. She’s peeled it and is seeming to offer it to me but Jake doesn’t let her.

“No food for her.” he tells the girl and it makes her stop her movements and retreat her hands.

Jake glances at me one last time before turning to the other man.

“We need to keep her weak.”

The man nods and soon, they’re all leaving me with an empty stomach again.

Day Four:

My head is throbbing in pain. My vision is blurry and my body is numb. This is a different kind of torture that I am now realising I won’t last much longer in.

I have started passing out every few hours from dehydration and lack of sleep. Hearing the water beneath the woven floor had me envisioning I was drowning in the ocean again. Hallucinations were not uncommon either.

The guards at the entrance to the hut have turned around multiple times when I would gasp and scream. I once thought I was drowning and the other time I saw the recoms walk in and I genuinely thought it was all over. But they weren’t real. They faded away in seconds and I was alone again.

Later that day, Jake came back along with the man he was talking to before. Neytiri and another woman from the water clan entered as well.

My eyes widened when I saw an Avatar in human clothing walk in behind Jake. I thought it could be a recom but when I looked at his face, I realised I didn’t recognise him.

About an hour earlier I had heard a helicopter outside but I wasn’t sure whether I had imagined it. Apparently not. The Avatar looked like he was from the science department. He had tech equipment with him and started setting it down on the ground.

They were talking between each other for a while and I stopped paying attention. My mind was too hazy from the pain to listen.

But I came back to my senses a little more when Jake came up to me and started his questioning. He had the video camera with him again. Perhaps he wanted to show Quaritch my suffering.

“How are you alive again?”

“Did the RDA make you?”

“Why are you after my family?”

The questions overwhelmed me. I don’t know why he thought it was a good idea to interrogate me when I’m in such a bad state. But I couldn’t focus properly.

That bothered Jake, so he used force like he knew we would too. I answered only when I really couldn’t bare the pain he was inflicting on me.

In the end, I told them our mission and why we were alive. It’s not top-secret information anyway, it was pretty obvious really. We are out for blood because he betrayed us in our past lives. What does Jake not understand about that?

The session ended with tears staining my face and blood running out of my nose. My calf resumed its bleeding after Jake had purposefully irritated the deep wound to get answers out of me. The clan leader, his wife, and Neytiri didn’t look comfortable during the torture, but they showed me no mercy. I didn’t expect them to.

It’s only natural for them to hate me for what I am and for what I was.

Day Five:

I don’t feel alive anymore. I had been given more water but my body was weak. Nothing feels real to me and I’m surprised I’m still hanging on. I don’t have much to live for, how come I’m still here?

But I realise something is off today. The village isn’t calm. There’s a loud commotion outside. Big splashes of water and occasional shouting. It keeps me awake.

A little while later, a few Na’vi come into my tent but they pay me no attention. Usually, the people are wary of me but to these two, I don’t even exist. They seem to be in a hurry as they gather a few of their belongings. I watch them roll up mats and grab a few things before jogging back outside. Were they going somewhere?

This continued for what felt like a few hours until I noticed the noise slowly start to die down. The noises of animals gathering at the shore were heard. After a while, there was no noise anymore. I was left in complete silence.

Hours went by and there was just… nothing.

I thought that perhaps I was hallucinating about being alone. Or maybe I was dead and this is what I get after life. Neverending, loud silence.

I feel disconnected from the world. Like I can’t keep up because I don’t know what is happening. I can’t move and I feel so utterly helpless it breaks me. I feel disconnected from life.

I start grieving for myself. Remembering the gift of freedom I had before. Before I was restricted of almost all my movement.

I’m able to see the sun slowly set outside. My cramped-up body is slowly losing its power as the daylight outside dims. Everything hurts. My mouth is dry, my leg is putting me in agony and my breathing becomes heavy. As if there were a weight on my chest. My neck hurts from not being able to rest, my back hurts from not being able to stretch or readjust its posture and I can’t feel my tail. It’s all too much and my vision starts to black out once more. My completely numb body falls to the side and I lose consciousness.

The village has been abandoned by the clan. And they have left you alone with it. All huts are empty and there is no movement except for the small waves washing up on the coast.

To them, you were not worthy of life. You knew that but having to bare their treatment was worse.

Why they left, you do not know. But you’re too weak to worry about it. Your body is trying its best to keep you alive for as long as possible, but it is not doing well. You have not been nourishing it as well as you usually do and the sudden change has weakened your immune system. Your mentality and emotional strength are equally at a low because abandonment is not easy to deal with. There seems to be nothing keeping you in this world any longer. Quite frankly, you’re not sure whether those who you wish to see once more are even still breathing. Sully mentioned they had been tricked and could be dead. Perhaps you should join them, to escape this dreadful reality you’re stuck in.

What you do not know, is that the clan and the Sully’s fled for a reason. This whole time they had been documenting your suffering and sending it to the RDA, in hopes of being able to form some type of peace treaty. But seeing your treatment had the surviving recoms feeling furious.

The ambush Jake had set up on them to get the kids back had been seriously dangerous. Zdinarsk took a bad hit and in the end, the squad had to leave her lifeless body behind, as they had done with the others.

Everyone else survived.

When the recoms lost you on deck, many thought you were dead. It pained them because, to them, you were the brightest of them all. You of course never knew this, but you managed to keep the team’s spirit uplifted at all times. As humans, they had always had a special connection with you. A few new soldiers joined the recoms but the soldiers that were alive now you knew for a longer time. The Colonel included. You’re their youngest team member and they have always been protective of you. To the recoms, they wouldn’t be a team without you. You had brought them together. In the beginning, you were all strangers. You only knew Lyle from boot camp. And gradually, you unintentionally helped bring everyone closer. It was who you were and they admired you for it.

Seeing that you were alive gave them a huge relief but when they realised what hands you had landed in, it horrified them.

Quaritch was ready to fully arm his team and walk out to find you the second his interaction with Sully ended.

Ardmore prevented that from happening and Quaritch knew he had to listen to her. Instead, they prepared for the handover. Secretly of course, because the General would not agree to trade 3 hostages with valuable information against one wounded soldier.

They saw you in trouble so instantly, their mission objective changed. Screw Sully, he can wait. They had to get you back.

The full five days were spent planning what to do because the recoms panicked when they realised they weren’t getting you back from Jake. He had set up a trap for them which they fell into, due to their tunnel vision for you.

Now, they didn’t have a plan but they have vengeance, rage and fury. Enough of it to pump adrenaline through their bodies and make them dare to walk all the way to find you.

I didn’t plan on waking up again but hey, that’s not something I can control right? My eyes squint in irritation as my pupils are strained, trying to adapt to the sudden change of lighting. Light? It was meant to be dark. The sun had just set.

Confusion once again revives my body and I properly look around. My weak body lays on its side but my head manages to lift up. Why the hell is it so goddamn bright when the sky outside is dark?

A strong smell fills my nostrils, making me scrunch up my sensitive nose.

Smoke.

I’m inhaling smoke. One breath after the other it starts to cloud the hut I’m in, but I can’t move. My ears twitch and I hear something cracking to my left. Like wood breaking and falling. My eyes turn to look where the noise came from and I see the hole that has formed in the wall of the woven tent I’m in. It’s growing bigger and the floor is slowly breaking away. Outlining it are small flames, keeping the dry fabric ignited.

Fire.

The village is burning. And I’m in it. Why and how it’s burning I don’t know but the smoke is clouding my vision and filling my lungs, making me think this has to be my end. In complete defeat, I drop my head again, hoping to evade the polluting grey cloud but it doesn’t help. The need to cough clogs my throat but I’m too weak to inhale a big enough breath to be able to cough. So I just resume my position, waiting for everything to end.

You don’t move. You can’t. You’re wrists are still tied behind your back and your leg is still injured. There is no escape for you. You’re just hoping the smoke will finish you off before the flames reach you.

Outside your hut, loud shouts of orders are to be heard. But your ears do not pick up on them.

The fire has been set purposefully out of spite for what had been done to you. But the ones responsible for it, do not know you are still there. Once things started burning, orders were given to search the huts for anything and anyone. Best case scenario: you.

The smoke had knocked you out again because you weren’t receiving enough air. Time is running out fast.

Hut after hut, the recombinants find nothing, quickly running to the next one before the fire reaches it. The one you are in is on the far end of the village, so as not to inconvenience the previous inhabitants. You were a threat and they didn’t want you in the centre of it all. After all, you might bring them bad luck.

Everyone was busy, desperately hoping to find you but also dreading to find you in flames and blood.

Just before your roof was going to collapse on you, one soldier was fortunate enough to run past your hut and glance inside.

Lopez’s bare feet skidded over the woven fabric that the village was built with. It was dry and able to burn fast, so they all had to hurry.

He’s running from house to house, looking inside only to find abandoned objects and some furniture. His hope is slowly dying out as he starts to reach the edge of the coastal village. Lopez’s heart is beating fast and he feels dread weigh down his heart. What if they are too late? He should have paid attention to where you were on the ship. Not let you out of his sight. Then this would have never happened.

He’s starting to panic again, just like when he saw you crying on the screen.

Finally, he reached your hut. It looked just like any other hut and when he glanced inside all he saw was smoke. It was close to collapsing in on itself and Lopez was about to go and run to the next one when he saw a faint figure on the ground. It made him stop dead in his tracks and a soft breeze managed to clear the smoke from his view for a few seconds.

There you were.

Lying motionless on the ground.

His heart sank and everything seemed to stop for a few seconds before he was brought back to reality by the flames nearing you and the cracking of the roof above you. Without spending another second thinking, Lopez hurled his body forward, running straight up to you. He held his breath, examining you with wide eyes while his hands moved you around to see if you were alive. You gave him no reaction. He was ready to scoop you up but he quickly realised you were tied to a post which was attached to the burning wall.

Such cruel handling to such a beautiful soul, he thought.

He was quick to try and rip the rope but it wasn’t working. Lopez cursed himself for losing his dagger.

Luckily, Lyle, who was also searching houses, saw Lopez run into the smoke. He hasn’t seen him come out. It meant that either he had to go help his fellow soldier in case something had happened or perhaps, Lopez had found something.

Lyle reached the entrance of the hut, seeing nothing but a hunched-over figure. Recognising it as Lopez, he quickly entered and equally held his breath in the smoke. Both their ears were pinned back in tension and once Lyle saw you on the ground, he fell to his knees in an attempt to help you. He saw Lopez fighting the coarse rope and swiftly reached for his dagger, slicing through it to finally free you. No words were spoken, they knew what to do.

Without hesitation, Lopez quickly slid an arm behind your back and one under the legs, lifting you into the air as he got up. Lyle quickly lead the way, flinching when he saw the roof start to break. Both men are desperate to help you out of here so they run, with you in Lopez’s arms. Finally exiting the hut, they can breathe again but they don’t stop. Just as they start to return, the entire hut collapses in on itself. They found you just in time.

All other soldiers have been ordered to get off the burning ground and back onto the sand. They were gathered on the beach and the Colonel was looking for Lopez and Lyle. A soldier called out that he spotted them and the whole team turned to see them running with a body in one’s hands.

Immediately, all senses and attention were spiked. Was it you?

Lyle called out that they had you and a few soldiers dropped their things to go and help them where as the Colonel stayed put. The news overwhelmed him with the long-needed feeling of relief and he just stared at them, watching his highly trained marines carefully transport you to them. But there was one problem. You weren’t awake…

My head buzzed in pain from a mild headache I was getting while resting. But suddenly, as my senses return to me, everything feels different. I’m blinded by a bright white light as I once again, open my eyes. Am I dead?

I squint and the white light is above me. Yep, I’m dead. Heaven or hell, who cares. I’m not where I was and that’s all that really matters to me right now.

Ready to close my eyes again, my other senses heightened. With my vision gone, I can focus on my hearing and smell. I smell disinfectant and hear a constant beeping which is probably what is giving me my headache. It’s coming from behind me and I open my eyes, wanting to hit whatever it was.

Suddenly, the light is no longer blinding me and I recognise what looks to be a heart monitor.

A gasp is emitted on my right and I flinch, looking at the figure with half-lidded and tired eyes.

“Y/N! You’re awake!” The voice shouts in excitement. I recognise Prager and my eyes start to tear up.

I still had no idea what was happening but I was so happy to not be alone anymore.

Prager is barely sitting on his chair now that he seems to have placed next to my bed. He’s too happy for that. Next to him, Mansk is slowly lifting his head from his palm. The sudden commotion must have woken him up.

He looks at Prager who is holding my hand and when he notices I’m awake, his eyes widen in surprise. It starts to load into Mansk’s head that I’m alive and he sits up, leaning over me.

I’m very overwhelmed with everything around me.

“You’re dead too?” I mumble, suddenly coughing a little. A smoky aftertaste is left lingering on my tongue.

Prager tilts his head in confusion.

“Y/N, you’re alive.” he says, smiling again.

I shake my head. “No-” I say, pointing to me. “I’m dead.”

Prager chuckles at your existential confusion. He’s too overjoyed that your back he gets up and runs to the door.

“Colonel, Y/N’s awake!” he shouts through the hallway, standing in the frame of the door.

Mansk scoots closer, seeming to be in disbelief that I’m alive. He’s examining me, making sure I’m okay while now also comfortingly holding my hand.

(click here to see a picture I drew of this scene)

Only now do I realise where I am. I’m laying in a hospital bed in what looks like it could be the RDA’s medical centre. The recoms have their own hospital because the bodies are different.

There is in fact a heart monitor next to me and I have cannula tubes inserted into my lower arm and hand which are connected to an IV drip bag. It’s clear and filled with a saline solution. Probably best to cure my dehydration. I can feel a bandage around my calf. Finally, the wound must have been taken care of.

“How are you feeling?” Mansk asks. His ears are perked forward, giving me all his attention.

I slowly tilt my head back to face him.

“Like shit.” I mutter, raising my hand impaled by small, clear tubes and my bandaged leg to emphasize my point. He drops his head and smiles.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” he replies. But his smile is comforting. He seems to know that I must be doing better if I can curse and joke around.

Prager steps back into the room, allowing the Colonel to come in. Quaritch was out of breath when he walked in, his eyes never leaving me. He came to a stop in front of my bed. Behind him, the rest of the remaining team came in. Lyle, Lopez, and Ja stood behind their superior and their wide eyes watched our interaction.

“Y/N…” Quaritch breathes out as I look up to meet his gaze. He seemed relieved but his eyes showed me he was tormented with guilt.

“I’m so sorry.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion. Why was he sorry?

“Sorry? Why?”

Quaritch looks disappointed in himself, and his eyes flicker down and away from mine to stare at the pale covers of the bed.

“I should have been watching out for you. It’s my fault.”

My ears droop at the news. Sure, he was our Colonel and was in charge of us all, but it’s not his fault.

“Don’t say that.” I reply, not wanting him to feel let down by himself. “It’s not true.”

Your words are spoken softly as if you are trying to comfort him. He notices your tone, once again being reminded why you’re so special to him and the team. Helping others even at your worst. A great quality which will never cease to amaze him.

“We thought we lost you.” His saddened eyes meet mine again.

I smile, appreciating him showing me his caring side. Something Quaritch never did.

“Don’t get me emotional here, Colonel.” I chuckle before abruptly coughing again. “I don’t have enough water in my body to cry.”

A grin forms on my lips and my joking attitude makes him lightly chuckle. The others smile.

They spend the next few hours with you, talking to you about things and letting you get everything off your chest. You told them what happened from the very beginning to the very end. It made them furious but at least you were safe now. While listening, Quaritch had his ears pinned back and was gritting his teeth. Mansk couldn’t keep his leg still and was tensely cracking his knuckles and pressing his fingers into fists. Everyone was on edge when you described what Jake had done to you. They wanted to go and end him even more now but no one would risk the same thing happening again.

For the next few days, you were getting their full-time princess treatment. Obviously, they still had to work. This wasn’t some perfect fantasy where they would spend all their time with you and watch movies. It didn’t work that way. The RDA had to keep running and they were needed. But you were not forgotten.

They would each stop by every day, taking turns to make sure you were alright. While you still felt very weak, your body started healing and your strength was slowly returning. It was a miracle. One you would have never imagined could happen. Not after you thought you were going to die multiple times. Not even after you were ready to face death the last time. This job, or this life, was not for the weak.

Soon enough, I was slowly returning to my normal self. The doctors let me go after a week but I was still not allowed to participate in extremely physical activities like working out. Typical things for Marines. I just hope that I won’t forget how to do things once I’m really back.

One might think that moving around the facility during the day was the toughest part for me. Well, that’s not true. It was a struggle but what I was really battling with were the nights. Whenever I close my eyes, my mind starts remembering and picturing everything that has happened to me over the past few days. Sleeping in the hospital was dreadful. I think that’s why they let me out early. So that I could properly rest again.

With half of the original recom team gone, the dorms which we slept in were reduced in size. We were transferred to a shared room for the seven of us. The Colonel included. His private room was going to be used for something else. There would have been lots of complaining from his side if it weren’t for my sleep paranoia. I was going to share a room with them from now on and it relieved me. It meant that I wouldn’t have to sit through the night alone anymore and stare into the dark. I could perhaps even sleep peacefully.

The days went by quickly for me because I wasn’t assigned any tasks. I feel like I’m just wasting my time but Quaritch tells me it’s a part of the healing process.

The lights were shut off again and the room went dark. Normally, my heart would start racing but I could hear the soft breathing of Lyle behind me and Mansk on my left. We had our own beds, but even they were pretty close together. The Colonel slept across the room from me.

Surprisingly, I managed to fall asleep fairly quickly. Sleeping in one room with 6 fully grown marine men on your side is a pretty comforting thought for me. I knew them well and trusted each of them.

But once asleep, it didn’t take long for the traumatising memories to return. I dreamt that I was tied down again, stuck in the hut full of smoke. I could remember the exact pain in every area of my body and the aftertaste of the smoke in my lungs. But this time, nobody was there to get me out. The fire neared me rapidly and soon, the flames engulfed me. Out of fear, I woke up.

Quickly, I sat up from my previous laying position, breathing heavily as if I had been running. A sweat droplet ran down my forehead while my wide eyes saw that I wasn’t back there, but still safe in our room.

I heard a bed creak next to me and turned around, flinching away when I saw a figure sitting on the bed.

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s me.” I hear Lyle say. My eyes close and I let out a relieved sigh.

“Sorry for waking you.” I whisper, flattening my ears back.

“Don’t be, I wanna help.” He softly replies, walking to the edge of my bed. I look up at him and even in the dark, I can see his smile. Our new eyes really were something.

“Scoot over.” he whispers, gently taking hold of my blanket and lifting a corner. We knew each other well enough to know our boundaries. This was completely fine.

“The bed’s small. You won’t sleep well.” I warn him, still listening to what he said.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” he mumbles, slowly getting under the covers with me. “Just want you to feel better.”

I smile at him, before laying my head back against the pillow. “Thanks.”

Lyle loosely drapes his arm around my waist, pulling himself closer to me so that he won’t fall off the edge of the mattress. His hand feels the bare skin of my hip and he stops. His eyebrows furrow and he lets me go, using the same hand to lift the blanket.

“What are you even wearin’?” he asks. I groan against the pillow. I had sleep shorts and a comfortable sleep top on. It looked like a sports bra but it was actually cozy.

“It’s warm. And this is comfortable.” I mumble, not bothering to open my eyes.

“It’s cold.” Lyle corrects me, placing his arm back over me and pressing himself against my back. “But you’re warm.”

“Hot.” I smirk, nudging his foot with mine before closing my eyes again. He chuckles lightly and we go silent in an attempt to sleep again.

Unfortunately, that attempt turns out to be miserable because Lyle won’t stop moving around. His body twitches and he keeps readjusting his position.

Then the inevitable happens. I feel something semi-hard against my ass. With the dirty mind Lyle taught me to have, my eyes shoot open and I hold my breath for a second. To see if it really is what I think it is, I push back against it.

Lyle sharply inhales a breath and I huff out a sigh.

“You’re kidding.” I whisper to him unimpressed, turning my head to look at him from the corner of my eye.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he stutters, withdrawing his arm from me again.

“This is your help? Getting all worked up?” I ask with a chuckle and the intention to make fun of him so that he would joke back. It surprised me that he was getting hard around me. I never knew he thought of me in that way.

He doesn’t respond so I fully turn around to face him. Lyle's ears are flattened back and he looks not just embarrassed but regretful and ashamed.

“Lyle, I’m joking.” I say, noticing his expression.

“I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable.” he whispers to me. Lyle glances to his bed and I notice that he’s thinking about getting up.

“Don’t you dare. I was comfortable.” I whisper-shout at him. He turns his head back to me, watching my moves to understand my reaction.

I turn around and lay back down, in an attempt to show him I wasn’t weirded out. The situation has my heart beating faster in my chest. Probably in excitement. I don’t think my steps through. All I know is that I felt comfortable and safe with him and I wanted to return to the position we were just in.

I lay still but my eyes are open and I wait for him to lay down again. Luckily, Lyle gives in and lowers himself back down. His chest presses up against my back once more and he keeps his arm on his side. He seems unsure whether to put it back so I gently reach behind me and pull it over my waist again, hugging his forearm against my chest.

Within seconds, I feel his tense body melt against me and I’m comfortable again. He hums behind my head and I close my eyes.

But now I can’t stop thinking about what could happen. I know Lyle still has his problem but he’s stuck here with me and can’t really sort it out. In a way, I feel bad for him. But only then do I realise, that his presence had me feeling warmer and more jumpy than usual.

His heavy, strong body was pressed right up against mine. There was no way he didn’t feel how warm I’m getting. Questions seem to slowly answer themselves when Lyle shifts again.

His arm tightens around my waist and he gently pulls my hips up against his. I don’t move, letting him set the pose. He holds me tightly against him now and my ass is pressed against his now hard erection.

I don’t know what to do but I’m no longer thinking about my actions. I just do them. My head turns to the side again to look at him. I hear him smirk and then suddenly, Lyle presses his face against the side of my neck, nuzzling his nose into my skin. This is new. All of this. Lyle and I have never been this physical.

“Lyle?” I ask, not sure what I’m asking or what I expect to hear as a response.

“I thought I lost you, Buttercup.” he mumbles against my skin. His other arm pushes through underneath me and he’s wrapped both his arms around me now.

I gasp when I feel his warm lips against my skin. Lyle starts pressing gentle kisses on my neck before he licks a small stripe and then catches the skin between his teeth.

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, moving up so that he’s now hovering over me. He kisses my cheek and I look up at him with doe eyes. He’s being so affectionate it’s making me melt. The light speckles on our skin illuminate our bodies and I see mine in the reflection of his eyes. We stare at each other for a few long seconds before he starts to slowly lean down. His eyes flicker between mine and my lips and I let it happen. There was nothing wrong with this and no reason to stop. I missed him too.

Our lips meet and Lyle immediately starts to passionately kiss me. I sigh at the pleasant feeling, lifting my hand to caress the back of his head. Tracing my hand over his skin, I stop at his shoulders and feel the muscles flexing while he’s holding himself up. Lyle’s physique always looked good to me. Having his weight on me felt even better.

“Let me show you how much I missed you.” he whisper after we pull away. He’s watching me, waiting for my reaction. I slowly nod and almost instantly, the gap between our lips is closed again. But this time, the kiss is more heated and Lyle seems more desperate.

My mind is hazy from my lack of sleep and sudden affection. My eyes flutter closed with every kiss and touch he gives me that time seems to speed by. Something I hate because I wish I could prolong this moment with Lyle.

His hands are caressing my chest and he glances at me for permission while letting his fingertips linger on the fabric of my top. This time I nod eagerly and Lyle listens, gently pulling the top over my head. He groans, letting his eyes scan me before quickly moving on to my shorts. I lift my hips and it encourages him to slip them down my legs, leaving me bare before him.

“You’ve always been so pretty.” he praised me, whispering the words into my ear. “Thought I’d never be able to tell you.”

“Stop, you’re making me feel special.” I grin, helping him pull his shirt off.

Lyle chuckles softly. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he whispers his promises into my ear.

I smile, embracing him as he lowers himself back down. Suddenly, it seems like we’d both been touch starved and we couldn’t let each other go. I don’t know whether this is love or lust. Somewhere in between but we have a deep connection that’s igniting my skin with warmth.

Lyle stripped himself as well and he’s kissing down my chest. Our bodies are hidden under the blanket in case anyone turns the light on. But we were quiet enough not to wake others.

I open my legs, wrapping them around his waist and pulling him against me. I feel his aching hard cock press up against my bare pussy which was throbbing and becoming wet. Lyle’s body shudders in anticipation at the close touch and he can’t help but slowly grind himself against my folds. I bite my lip, exhaling shakily which his ears pick up on.

“Please-” I whisper, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“You don’t need to beg, baby. Anythin’ for you.” he softly replies, gently nibbling my ear before adjusting his hips to mine.

I feel the tip of his dick press against my entrance, carefully applying pressure to not overwhelm me all at once.

I nod up at him, and his lips part in admiration when he sees my lust-filled and half-lidded eyes staring up at him.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” He whispers to me, knowing I’m still not up to my full health. I hum in response, feeling too blown away to form words already.

Lyle starts to gently roll his hips forward, thereby pushing himself into you. His mouth slowly drops open in pleasure, relishing in the way you’re squeezing him. The intrusion would normally make you tense up but you trust Lyle so much, you don’t stop him. Knowing he would never do anything to hurt you, you lay back and focus on relaxing yourself for him. Finally feeling so safe and good was such a contrast to how you felt a week ago. You needed this just as much as he did.

He blamed himself for what happened just like everyone else did. Now, he wanted to apologise and make up for it. Because he missed your presence so incredibly much before, he couldn’t get enough of it now.

Lyle finally bottomed out and he dropped his head against your shoulder in pleasure. Never had he felt this close to you, but he loved it. Even with all his built-up lust, his main priority is you.

“You doin’ okay?” he asks, and suddenly Lyle already seems out of breath.

“Yeah, m’ fine.” I say and reassuringly tap his shoulder.

He gives me a small nod. Taking one of my hands Lyle carefully interwines our fingers and then presses our connected hands against the pillow next to my head. I sigh as he gently pulls out, pushing back in as carefully as he did the first time. He does this until he feels that I have relaxed more. Once Lyle starts to slowly pick up the pace, the movement inside me is feeling pleasurable. I start breathing heavily. Listening to Lyle’s uneven breathing and watching his lustful expression is really turning me on, making my pussy almost flutter around him.

I gasp when his tip hits a particularly good spot inside me. It makes me instinctively clench my legs around him and roll my hips upwards.

“That good?” Lyle teases with a grin, noticing my body’s response.

“Shit- Lyle…” I sigh, clenching my fingers down against his hand and raising my free hand to hold on to the pillow. I needed to dig my fingers into something.

Lyle seemed to not like that I wasn’t touching him and he thrust into me sharply, making my body jolt upwards. I look at him with wide eyes before resting my free hand on his shoulders. The pleasure is building up inside me, making me curl my toes and dig my nails into his back.

Lyle growls with a grin, continuing what he’s doing. He drops his head in the crook of my neck, starting to suck and gently bite down on my skin. Probably wanting to leave hickeys. I’m not going to stop him.

He didn’t speed up but he angled his hips in a way that sent shivers down my spine and made me arch my back off the bed.

“Lyle-” I whisper “I’m close.” My breathing is heavy and my words are barely heard but he catches them in time.

“You doin’ so well f’ere me, baby. So fuckin’ good.” he groans, resuming to nibble on my neck and collarbone.

My mouth drops open in bliss and I’m gasping and whimpering beneath Lyle.

He dips his head down once more with a smug smile, kissing me to keep us both quiet as our orgasms approach. It’s the best way to shut me up.

His thrusts deepen and I feel his abdomen nudge my clit every time he bottoms out. It’s enough to send me over the edge. My mouth hangs open again but Lyle continues to kiss me, muffling my silent moan. Not once do his movements falter. He rides out my orgasm until my legs stop clamping down around him.

“Where do you want it?” he asks between heavy breaths, looking at me with desperate eyes because he can’t hold it back.

“In me.” I whisper, pressing the side of my face against his. I hear him let out a muffled moan, pressing his lips together to not be too loud.

I missed him and everything normal so much, I needed this feeling of closeness. I was about to die a few days back so I really didn’t mind.

I gather my breath and Lyle speeds up his thrusts to push himself over the edge. To help him, I open my legs wider to give him better access. The next thrust makes him growl in pleasure and within seconds, his body spasms. Lyle bites down onto my shoulder, holding me down with both his arms and placing his body weight on me while he rams himself as deep inside my pussy as possible and shoots his cum inside me. He holds me down, not letting me move until he’s done.

Once he’s emptied his balls inside me, his grip on me loosens and we lock eyes once more.

Slowly, I lift my hand and cup his cheek. The small act of affection makes him smile softly and he presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes to enjoy the moment. I smile up at him, unable to contain my happiness. I really liked him and I was happy this happened between us.

Lyle grinned down at me, seeming to read my thoughts. I pulled him in for a quick peck on the lips and then he slowly lifted himself up, pulling out. His hands traced my body as he prepared to lay back down next to me.

“So pretty. You’re mine baby.” he says, leaning down about to rest next to me once more before his movements stop.

“Don’t know about that, Corporal.” Said a voice from behind us. It spoke louder than we did and I immediately recognised it to be the Colonel. Quaritch was awake and had probably heard everything.

I gasp and Lyle freezes, staring at me for a second before sighing. He would have been surprised if you both wouldn’t have woken anyone up.

Quaritch walks up to my bed, glancing at Lyle before once again fixating his gaze on me. My hands are gripping onto the edge of the blanket, holding it above my chest. The Colonel is my superior and my face flushes in embarrassment in response to being caught doing that.

“Didn’t know you’d be this temptin’ sweet’eart.” He grinned, flashing his fangs. Quaritch was a bold man not afraid of judgement.

“I’m sorry sir, I-”

“Almost irresistible.” he mutters under his breath, making me stop mid-sentence.

Lyle is next to me, silently watching the situation unfold. He knows the Colonel well and is aware that he isn’t just having you to himself tonight.

Quaritch once again glances at Lyle and his gaze is more of a warning sign now. Lyle takes the hint, reaching for his sweatpants before moving off the bed. He looks down at me in a way to make sure I’m doing okay. I was surprised by the Colonel’s forwardness but Lyle was making sure I’m not uncomfortable. I know that if he would feel like I’m in danger, he would do absolutely everything in his power to protect me from that.

But it was Quaritch in the room with us. Definitely no stranger. I trusted Quaritch as well, I just had to be more respectful and presentable around him because he was a high-ranking officer.

“I was ready to kill Jake the second I’d see him.” Quaritch says, continuing to peer down at me. “Rip ‘im open and burn his body.”

If this is how Quaritch dirty talks then someone help me.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you, darlin’. I can promise you that with my life.”

His words are deep and while processing them, he steps closer. Quaritch sits down on the bed so that we are at eye level.

“I want ‘te make it up to you.” he says, gazing deeply into my eyes.

I watch him and his words send a shiver down my spine. Quaritch is very much attractive but he is also so much more intimidating than Lyle. I feel nervous being so exposed around him but something about the way he is so gentle with me and the soft look on his face makes me want this to happen.

“You trust me?” Quaritch asks. He looks so genuine and so real. As if he’d left the Colonel sleeping and what I’m seeing in front of me is just him as Miles.

“Yes.” I whisper, giving him a light nod. A small smile spreads across his lips. His large hand reaches up to my face and he twirls a small strand of hair that came loose around his fingers before gently tucking it behind my ear. I can’t tear my wide eyes from his. The amazement and surprise that this is happening is still astounding me.

“I won’t let you down.” he softly says, moving closer to me. “Never again.”

With that, he firmly presses his lips against mine, pulling my face to his.

I accept, letting my body relax against his.

Quaritch’s hands are on me, pulling me closer to him and within a matter of seconds, he’s hooked his palms under my thighs and has managed to tug me onto his lap. He was wearing nothing but his pants and I enjoyed the warm skin-to-skin contact our chests have.

The Colonel must have been watching or listening to Lyle and me because I felt his fully erect dick under me. It made me lose my mind. My fucking Colonel, the person I always look up to seems to have it bad for me.

His fingers dig into my hips and he presses me down against him, pulling away from the kiss and growling. I gasp, letting my eyes flutter closed while he grabs my queue, tugging my head back to expose my neck. His lips attach themselves to my neck as a small distraction while his other hand reaches between us and pushes down his pants.

He’s sucking and nibbling the skin of my neck, making me arch myself into him at the pleasant feeling. I’m not surprised that the Colonel is so skilled. A man of that age has a lot of experience. I just never thought I would be on the receiving end of it.

He pushes his pants down to his mid-thigh, far enough to free his aching cock from the restraints of the fabric. Once again, he forces my hips closer against his, pressing my already wet pussy against the sheath of his length. It’s warm and at this point, my core is too. Our bodies radiate heat while our senses are flooded with desire and lust.

His eyes seem to have turned a shade darker. Miles looks animalistic. His gaze is predatory, showing me his hunger and thirst for more. It doesn’t scare me though. He’s deeply buried in the moment but it’s still him who I trust.

His needs seem to be screaming at him and without further ado, both his hands latch themselves to my sides, lifting me up a little. I’m supporting myself by standing on my knees but it seems like Quaritch still wants full control, despite our position.

I feel his tip against my entrance. But this time mine and Lyle’s cum is slowly dripping out and onto him, covering his throbbing erection.

When I look up at him, Miles is grinning. There’s something so dirty about all of this but it’s just exciting me more. My thoughts are interrupted when Quaritch stops holding me up, guiding me down him until I’m fully seated on his lap again with him buried deep inside my pussy.

“F-fuck…” he curses, hissing the words through his teeth. “I knew you’d feel amazing.”

His whisper makes me shudder in anticipation. At this point, I didn’t even want this for my own pleasure. It felt great, but pleasing the Colonel was better.

He started to rock my hips against him, before eventually lifting and sinking my hips up and down him. Watching his expression relax and tense up in pleasure and listening to his grunts and pants was all I really wanted.

Perhaps I had missed him so much too, that I just wanted to please him and feel him close to me.

His pace grew harder. Even though Quaritch cares about me just as much as Lyle does, he isn’t as gentle. Only now do I realise how thankful I am that Lyle went slow with me. I would be in pain if he wouldn’t have been as careful.

“Miles-” I gasp in shock when I feel what I think is another orgasm approaching. This hasn’t happened before. I thought I wouldn’t be able to cum so quickly after an orgasm but it seems that Quaritch really can work magic.

“Come on baby, don’t hold back on me.” he grunts, enthusiastically bucking his hips up to meet mine. I hold on to his shoulders for balance, needing something to ground me through my bliss. It was slowly becoming too much.

Suddenly, his hand reaches between us and starts rubbing circles around my clit, occasionally pressing down on it and applying the right amount of pressure. I whimper, closing my eyes while my hips stutter in their place.

“It’s okay, I got you.” he whispers, pressing the side of his face against my neck while he continues to spear me down onto him. The light suddenly turns on, lighting up the entire room but we’re both too absent-minded at the moment to care.

Within seconds, I’m cumming around him. My pussy clenches in a way that makes Miles hiss and my knees go weak, no longer supporting my trembling legs, He curses before thrusting me down him as far as possible and spilling himself into me. His arm is snaked around my waist supportively, holding me to him as our orgasms rip through our bodies.

“There you go.” he coos into my ear, slowly stilling my hips and just holding me while both of us pant for air.

I cover my eyes, squinting from the sudden illumination coming from the lamp.

“Sorry.” I hear Lyle chuckle and I open my eyes to look at him. “Wanted to see your face.”

I just nod weakly, resting my head on Quaritch’s shoulder. I inhale his strong, musky scent and it comforts me, seeming to make all my worries go away. His arms were still cradling me and I could have fallen asleep like this. But it seems that others could not.

“How you doin’, sweetheart?” Miles asks, carefully letting me go and pulling away so that he could look at me again. My eyes are half-lidded again but not from lust, from sleepiness.

“Tired.” I mumble, dropping my head flimsily.

“Can you go again?”

His words make my mind halt for a few seconds. I look up at him in confusion. Again?

He reads my expression before nodding his head, motioning to something behind me. I slowly turn around and with the light on, I see Mansk and Lopez are awake. Ja and Prager are awake too, but Mansk and Lopez are closer to us. They’re looking at me the way Quaritch looked at me when I was still with Lyle.

Lopez is standing and Mansk has moved off his bed. Quaritch caresses my waist before gently moving me off of him. I stare at him with wide eyes and he smiles.

“You’ll be okay. I know you can take it.” he says, slowly getting up. Quaritch does know me well enough to know my limits. Not sexual limits, just physical limits, especially in the gym. But it seems as though that has some similarity to this.

Suddenly, another bed is pushed together against mine by Lopez. Mansk is now standing next to me with his eyes on me.

“Hey princess,” he smirks and I swallow nervously. His smile widens and he looks up at Lopez before pulling his own tank top over his head.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Lopez coos, settling down on the now double bed.

“We’re gonna take real good care of you.” Mansk adds, sitting next to me. His arms tangle around me and he nuzzles his nose against my cheek, inhaling deeply.

“Ya smell so good.” he purrs and I just weakly lean against him.

Mansk and Lopez are both entranced by your scent. It’s sweet and lures them to you. But they can smell Lyle and Quaritch on you. Naturally, their instincts tell them to get rid of that smell and replace it with their own.

All the recoms are even more protective of you now than ever before. Not only because of what happened to you previously but also because you are the only female in the group now. You’re all that they really have now and can protect.

“I’m goin’ first.” Mansk tells Lopez who clearly has an issue with that.

“No fuckin’ way, I’m not waitin’ anymore. Been awake since the beginning, I can’t just fuckin’ watch again.” Lopez protests, making my ears perk up.

He’s been awake since the beginning? Maybe Lyle and I really need to learn to be more stealthy. Or not, this isn’t such a bad outcome either.

Lopez lays down, reaching for me and pulling me on top of him. I don’t bother to resist. Why would I?

Mansk doesn’t let Lopez take me away that quickly and within seconds, he’s behind me.

I’m on all fours, watching them and hoping they don’t start tugging me back and forth.

Behind my back, Mansk and Lopez exchange looks and scan the position we’re all currently in. Lopez grins up at him before directing his attention back to me.

“Hey, mami.” he smirks, running his thumb over my lips. I stare down at him and my partly fucked out expression has him grinning.

“We’re gonna try something, yeah?” he asks, and I just stare at him with confusion. I’m not even embarrassed about being bare in front of them all, so I can’t protest, I just listen and go with whatever they say.

“Give ‘er a safeword.” Mansk says behind me. His large hands are gently skimming the curves of my hips and ass before one wraps around my tail, moving it up to fully expose me to him.

“Say ‘red’ when you’re at your limit, okay baby?” Lopez explains, watching me with a devilish grin as I nod.

“Okay.” I whisper and he nods up at Mansk. Whatever they are planning, I assume it won’t be easy for me to take so I try to distract myself. Perfect, right in front of me. I examine Lopez’s tattooed chest of his toned body laying beneath me. I raise a hand and start gently outlining the inked words under his skin.

Lopez and Mansk are shuffling beneath and behind me. My distraction causes me to not notice them remove their pants. Lopez however feels the small touch and smiles up at me.

“You’re so cute, mami.” He whispers, making me lock eyes with him again. “Promise to make you feel good.”

I nod and he looks behind me again. They’re moving my hips and legs to try to position me correctly while I once again stare at Lopez’s tattoos.

There’s a pressure being applied against my core again, but now it feels normal to me I don’t even turn around to see what exactly they are doing.

Lopez’s hand comes up and gently wraps around my throat, holding me in place. I lean into his touch, letting myself be fully at their mercy.

Suddenly, I feel what I think is one of them push themselves inside me. I gasp, eyes shooting wide when I feel the burning stretch of my walls adjusting. My breath seems to get caught in my throat.

“Nnhgh-” I whine, clamping my teeth tightly shut and squeezing my eyes closed.

“Fuckk,” Mansk breathily exhales, steadying himself against my ass.

Lopez’s ears are strained back, his fangs are bared and his eyebrows furrowed in bliss. The realisation hits me. Both of them are inside me at the same time.

“Shit- you’re so tight baby.” he groans, placing his free hand on my waist and squeezing my flesh. Mansk is holding my lower hip and tail.

I’m struggling to breathe. My arms spread wider to the sides to support me in case they start moving. I ball my fingers into fists around the bedsheets, trying to deal with the pain.

“Give ‘er a minute.” I hear Quaritch tell them. He must be watching my expression. I see Lopez nod and I assume Mansk does the same. They weren’t planning on moving without your permission anyway.

My head drops and I calm my breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply. It burned, causing tears to prick in the corners of my eyes. Mansk is gently rubbing soothing circles onto my belly while being hunched over me.

After a few minutes of that and Lopez whispering soft praises and compliments to me, the stretch is gone.

“It’s- better now.” I say with a small sob which I quickly swallow down so that it goes unheard. They trust my judgement, exchanging looks before my hips are nudged forward and they pull out, leaving just a little of their dicks inside.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, steadying myself on the mattress above Lopez once again before they thrust back in, in synch.

They share their rhythm, making sure to go slower to not overwhelm me. But I’m already overwhelmed. My core is throbbing from overstimulation and my eyes are tearing up.

But their touches are gentle. Their hands do not fail to pleasingly caress my body while they thrust into me. My hair is moved to the side to reveal the side of my neck that hasn’t been marked by either Lyle or Quaritch. Lopez presses his tongue against my pulse point before gently sucking his own hickeys into my skin.

Mansk groans behind me, letting his head fall back. I feel so stuffed, I know that if I even manage to have another orgasm, it will come quickly because they are reaching spots I never knew I had.

“Fuck, princess you feel so good.” Mansk praises me. “Doin’ so well.”

I whimper in response, feeling glad I can please them at least. This is turning into one big love-making session. I missed everyone so much and seems they did too, we just can’t get enough of each other.

“Shit- ‘m not gonna last-” Lopez growls. It must feel tighter than usual for them.

My body is being nudged forwards with every thrust.

“Come on, mami. Cum for us.” Lopez encourages me.

“I- I can’t,” I whine, feeling a tear spill from my eyes. Lopez wipes it away, holding my cheek to support my lolling head.

“You can do it, one more.” he whispers breathlessly into my ear. Under me, he starts to roll his hips so that they grind against my clit with every thrust. I whimper, instinctively pushing back against them which makes Mansk growl.

Their thrusts are more sloppy and desperate, signalling they must be close. Lopez doesn’t stop his rhythm and soon I’m on the edge of my third orgasm.

“I’m gonna-” I gasp “I’m gonna cum-”

“Fuckin’ right, let go, mami.” he grunts.

My moans spur them on and in seconds my entire body is shaking once more. The way my walls hug them makes it almost impossible for Mansk and Lopez to move and their both goners too.

“Grippin’ me so well, baby.” Mansk hisses, digging his fingers into my hips.

I’m seeing stars and my vision blacks out as I feel both men shoot their thick ropes of cum deep inside me, once again filling me up.

At this point, I’m panting again and my arms give out. I slowly go limp against Lopez, laying on top of him. Behind me, Mansk pulls out to ease me from the overstimulation. Lopez then follows and I’m wondering whether I’ve lost the senses in my legs. They won’t stop trembling.

“Holy shit.” Lopez mumbles, patting my back while my non-functioning body is close to either falling asleep or passing out again.

“That deserves a fuckin’ reward.” Lyle says, sitting on his bed.

“I’ll give ‘er a reward.” Ja says. His voice comes from somewhere behind me. My tail stops swaying as I replay the words in my head. I lift myself up a little and look at Lopez, then at Quaritch.

“You said one more.” I whine in protest to Lopez who looks at me apologetically. He himself then looks at Quaritch, seeming unsure whether I can actually manage another round.

Quaritch doesn’t say or do anything, leaving it up to me to decide.

“Only if you want to, Y/N.” Prager says, coming around to the head of the bed while Lopez slowly lifts me off of him. He looks at Ja who nods in agreement.

“I feel like such a slut.” I say, cupping my face in embarrassment and shame. I have never had intercourse with this many people right after the other.

“Don’t. You’re perfect.” Prager says, lowering himself onto the bed in front of me.

“Unless you’re into that. Then do.” Lopez jokes, biting his tongue and playfully slapping my thigh before getting up.

Mansk smirks and Ja chuckles.

“Can you go one last time?” Prager asks. He was such a sweet person. Even before, he would always check up on me, for example when it seemed like I was struggling in training.

I wanted to please him and Ja too.

I nod slowly, wiping a previously shed tear from my face. “Yeah. Just- please be gentle.” I ask him and Ja. Both men nod and Ja grins, taking his position behind me.

“Sure thing, baby.” Prager smiles. My head is spinning a little but I manage to hear them push down their pants. To my surprise, Prager stays in front of me.

I look up at him and he gently parts my lips with his thumb. Oh. Sure. Hopefully, I won’t choke and die.

“Watch the fangs.” I softly say, my voice a little raspy from the moaning. Prager nods, tracing one of my fangs with his finger before tilting my chin upwards to him. Ja is already covering himself in all the mixed cum from before, lubricating his member for easier access. It’s not really necessary because I’m stretched out for today but I’m letting him do whatever.

I open my mouth for Prager and let him just use my head and hold my jaw open. I’m barely strong enough to continue standing on all fours. Luckily, Ja tucks his arm under my waist to hold me up while the other presses down against the bed. His hips roll forwards and with a loud squelching sound, he pushes in.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. What’d they do to ya?” Ja huffs out a light laugh, watching the cum flow out as he replaces the empty space inside me with his dick.

“A better job than whatever you’re doin’.” Quaritch fires back. Prager chuckles, knowing he’s referring to the way Ja was covering himself in slick just moments before. Ja huffs in annoyance before returning his attention to me. His thrusts are a little harder again and I want to say something but my mouth is filled with Prager’s dick. He’s gripping a handful of hair around my queue to lift my mouth off his dick and push me back on it. I fight back any need to choke or cough and relax my body as much as possible, letting them use me any way they wanted. Perhaps, things went by quickly because my mind is so hazed and I’m so fucked out.

Just to add the cherry on top, I hollow my cheeks around Prager’s member, creating a suction that has his hips stuttering. To give something to Ja, I arch my back against him, spreading my legs open a little more to help him out. Both of them are grunting while my moans and whimpers are muffled. I can feel the cum dripping down my inner thighs. It spreads onto Ja’s every time he bottoms out and lets his skin slap against mine.

I’m surprised with how I’m managing things and I plan on just having them finish but then Ja starts to rub his fingers between my dripping folds. He moves them with the same rhythm he’s thrusting into me with and my eyes go wide. I flinch away from his touch because the oversensitivity is completely making me tremble again.

“We promise, this is the last one baby. Just one more time.” Ja whispers, speeding up his own pistoning hips.

I close my teary eyes, inhaling deeply through my nose to stay composed.

“Just for us-” he grunts. I’m not sure whether he expects me to nod or give him a thumbs up, but quite frankly, I am incapable of doing either at the moment. I just take it, knowing this is the last round.

He continues his rapid thrusts. Ja would have never thought he would see you like this. Everyone is on the same page about that. You all knew each other well but no one saw this coming. It just happened in the heat of the moment. That doesn’t mean, many haven’t fantasised about being with you before though. They definitely have.

Prager bites down on his lip to muffle his moan while I swirl my tongue along the base of his dick.

“Shit-” he whines, dropping his head back in bliss. His body tenses and he thrusts his hips forward into my mouth as far as possible before spilling his load down my throat.

Behind me, Ja slapped my ass which made me jolt forward and swallow down more of Prager’s length. I suckled on his dick while he came, making sure to ‘milk’ him dry, which made him shudder. Prager’s moan helped send me over the edge and I couldn’t believe I was cumming again.

Ja pulled me closer to him by the base of my tail, forcing himself as deep into my pussy as he can go before he himself finally experiences his orgasm.

The squelching and slapping sounds finally died down as they gathered their breath. Prager pulled out, holding my cheek in his palm to let me breathe properly too. Ja mimics his movements, removing himself from inside me. Both men gather themselves and return to their senses while I just collapse onto the bed, falling sideways against the mattress.

“Ah, shit. There she goes.” Lyle chuckles, but he quickly stands up to come to my aid.

I groan in a low voice, feeling how all my limbs go weak.

“How ‘bout one more round?” Lyle asks, a shit-eating grin on his face.

I look up at him in disbelief. “You’re fucking kidding.” I warn, knowing I cannot even move right now.

He chuckles again. “I’m only messin’ with ya.”

“Not funny. I think I need to go back to the hospital.” I grumble, curling my legs against my chest and rolling over to my side.

“You did so well, darlin’. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” Quaritch adds, standing next to Lyle and peering down at my weak self.

Mansk had gone to wet a warm cloth and he’s back now, carefully parting my legs to clean up the mess that was made. I let him roll me on my back to clean my thighs too. He smiles at me before passing the cloth to Ja who needs it too.

Lyle reaches for my clothes and with the help of Lopez, they put them back on me.

“Thank you.” I mumble while leaning against Lyle.

“Geez, no need to thank for this. What you did is something worth thankin’ for.” he grins, sitting me up slowly.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Quaritch says, bending over to pick me up. He holds me bridal style against his chest and I just hand there. My eyes are closing, so I don’t pay attention to where he is carrying but I remember my bed being on the other side of the room.

The other recoms stare as the Colonel carries you to his bed.

“That’s where she’s sleeping?” Ja asks.

“Yeah. Problem?” Quaritch responds, lightly snapping again.

“Not if it’s only tonight.”

Quaritch frowns at Ja before answering. “We’ll switch every night.”

No one complained about that rule. Everyone was tired and so we went to bed. I was already fast asleep when Quaritch lay down with me, resting me on his chest to ensure I wouldn’t wake up with another nightmare. The lights went off but I knew nothing bad could happen to me. Not with them.

(Writing this used up all my mental energy, I need a nap rn. Let me know if you liked it! If you spot any spelling mistakes, feel free to point them out and I will correct them)

Tag List: @ken-dala @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @numarusworld @number1gal @jatwow

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tortillamastersblog · 2 months ago

Text

𖣂 Not My Commander - Part 3 | Lexa kom Trikru 𖣂

Pairing: Lexa kom Trikru x reader

Warnings: Blood, violence, injuries, cursing and some steamy scenes

Summary: Sending a hundred underaged prisoners down to Earth to find out if it’s inhabitable again is undoubtedly immoral, so The Council decides to send you down first, rather than float you for your crimes.

If you survive for more than a couple of hours, they can —in good conscience— send down the 100. If you don’t, well, then good riddance.

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

We’re back in Polis after three days of Lexa negotiating trade deals with the small village east of here, and even though she checks on me even more than she already did before, I have never felt as alone as I do right now.

I miss my parents and my brother, and I miss Bellamy. I keep thinking about him during the day, wondering what he’s up to now that I’m gone.

Does he know I’m still alive? Or is the Council keeping my wellbeing under wraps?

What’s he doing right now? Is he on patrol? Is he still part of the Guard?

His absence, just like my family’s, is like a painful hole in my chest that hurts every time I breathe.

A knock on my door makes me flinch in my spot on the floor by the window. I redirect my eyes from the lit-up city below me to the door.

“Yes?”

The door creaks open and in steps Lexa, holding a tray with some food and a cup of water on it.

“You didn’t come to dinner and Gustus told me you haven’t eaten all day, so I thought I’d come and check on you,” she says, setting the tray down on my bed.

I don’t move from my spot at the window, but I keep my eyes on her as she clasps her hands together in front of her.

“Do you check on everyone like this? I mean, you are the commander, so I’m sure you have better things to do than to bring me food.” I pull my legs up to my chest and drape my arms over my knees. I’m grieving for my family and my lost life, and after being forced to spend my day with Titus who’s taken up the responsibility of teaching me their language, I just want to be alone.

The muscle in Lexa’s jaw twitches, but ever since I got better at reading the emotions on her face, or lack thereof I should say, I know that’s she’s not annoyed, or irritated by what I just said. It’s more of a guarded concern underneath her mask of indifference.

“I do have better things to do,” she says carefully, watching me for a reaction, “but I didn’t just come here to bring you food.”

I raise an eyebrow in silent question which makes her take a tentative step toward me. I know that if I was one of her people, this kind of behavior would be unacceptable, but I’m not and she’s not my commander, so I’m not going to treat her like it.

I respect her, that’s for sure, and I’m thankful for her generosity and letting me stay with her, but I won’t bow to her.

“I wanted to know how your first lesson with Titus went today,” she says, keeping her hands clasped in front of her.

I scoff at the memory of the glares Titus sent my way every time I got something wrong and lift a hand to rub at my dry, irritated eyes. “He’s a pain in the ass.” I deadpan. “But other than that it was okay I guess.”

One corner of Lexa’s lips twitch in what I can only interpret as amusement before she goes back to being serious. “That was to be expected since he has yet to grow fond of you, but I’m glad to hear it wasn’t all too bad.”

“Mhmm.” I go back to looking out of the window, expecting Lexa to leave now that I’ve answered her question, but she stays right where she is, her eyes burning a hole into the side of my head. I pull my brother’s necklace from below my shirt and close my hand around my parents rings, hoping Lexa will get the hint that I want to be left alone now.

Much to my dismay, she doesn’t though and takes another step in my direction. “Y/N. . .”

I grind my teeth and look back at her, trying to control my sudden temper. I don’t like lashing out at people especially when they’ve done nothing wrong, but the storm of emotions inside of me is making it difficult to keep myself together.

“What happened the other night. . . back in that village—“

“I’m okay. It’s fine.” I squeeze my eyes shut to get rid of the memory of the darkness closing in on me in the lake. I am anything but okay, but I don’t want to talk about that.

We haven’t spoken about what happened until now, and if it had been up to me, I could have gone the rest of my life without speaking about it, but it seems as though Lexa has different plans.

“Yeah, no, I mean, I know you are okay, but I—“

“But what?” I interrupted her again, my head snapping around to look at her. “But what, hmm? I almost drowned because of your goons, but I didn’t. I’m here now, aren’t I? So can we please not talk about it.”

To my surprise Lexa flinches ever so slightly, but she doesn’t take a step back. Instead, she takes a deep breath and rests one of her hands on the hilt of her sword. It’s a habit of hers I’ve noticed she does every time she needs to ground herself.

She’s still dressed in her armor of the day, but now, in the low light and with just the two of us in the room, she looks more timid and vulnerable than I have ever seen her.

At the moment, standing in front of me isn’t Lexa, the fierce commander who leads her army into battles. No, right now she’s just Lexa, and the last time I saw her like this was when Gustus pulled me out of the lake three days ago.

“Okay, we won’t talk about it,” she says softly, “but to make sure nothing like this ever happens again, I’d like you to learn how to defend yourself.”

“I know how to defend myself,” I argued weakly. It’s true, I know how to do it, I was one of the best at sparring when I was training to become a Guard on the Ark, but three days ago my instincts just didn’t kick in the way they used to.

It could have been because of how shaken up I was after the nightmare, but deep down I know that that’s not the case. After every thing that’s happened, I just didn’t have it in me to actually fight them.

I had- I have nothing left to lose and when I realized that, I just stopped. . .

“Well, obviously not well enough,” Lexa snaps and the harshness of her words surprises me.

I can’t help but scowl and get to my feet. “I don’t need you to lecture me. I can defend myself just fine.”

“Oh yeah?” She raises a challenging eyebrow and steps up to me so we’re less than a foot apart.

I lift my chin in defiance and cross my arms, ignoring the way our proximity makes my heart skip a beat.

Lexa holds my glare for a moment before lunging at me without warning.

I’m quick to react and step out of her way, avoiding her blow and making her stumble past me. It surprises us both, Lexa more so than myself though which makes her come at me once again. This time, however she’s more aggressive, adamant to prove her point.

She places one of her feet behind my own before slinging her arm across my chest from behind. She pulls, trying to get me to trip over her foot, but I twist out of her hold. A painful tug around my throat makes me wince and once I’ve put enough distance between us, I raise my hand to touch my neck.

My stomach drops at the absence of my brother’s necklace and my eyes dart around the floor, trying to spot it.

It’s nowhere to be found though, so I look at Lexa who’s already looking at me with guilt written all over her face.

“Y/N. . . I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes dropping to her hands.

My gaze follows hers and when I spot my brother’s necklace in her grasp my throat closes up.

I wordlessly take it from her and inspect it, figuring it must have gotten caught on her sleeve when she tried to trip me.

My parent’s rings are still attached to it, but the clasp is broken and I know there’s no way I’m ever going to get it fixed down here.

These grounders don’t even have electricity, so how are they going to fix a miniature clasp on a delicate silver necklace.

I close my fist around it and squeeze my eyes shut, willing the tears that are dying to escape away.

“Y/N—“

“Leave.” My voice is hoarse and my whole body is shaking with the effort it takes not to snap completely.

“I could go and see if I can get it fixed. It was an accident, I swear I wasn’t trying to—“

My eyes fly open and I level Lexa with a glare so fierce it makes her shrink in on herself. “I said leave! Leave me alone. . .” A hot tear drips down my cheek and I wipe at it aggressively.

Lexa takes a deep breath and opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something else, but then she thinks better of if and close her mouth again. Her green eyes, filled with remorse and guilt stay on me a moment longer before she finally dips her head and leaves.

As soon as the door closes behind her, I let out the sob that’s been clawing at my throat and sink to the floor with the necklace clutched in my hands.

I didn’t think things down here could get any worse, but it seems as though life enjoys throwing curveballs my way.

“I’m sorry!” I panic and drop to my knees to help the guy I just ran into pick up his paintbrushes. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Gustus chuckles next to me (it’s a sound I rarely hear) and tells any onlookers to continue walking. The two of us have gotten quite comfortable around each other over the last two weeks and when I asked him if he’d take me to the market this morning, he agreed with a grunt and a tiny smile.

I haven’t seen Lexa since she came to my room a week ago, and I can’t say I mind it. At least this way she’s staying out of my business. However, I can’t deny that my stomach flips every time she’s mentioned.

“It’s okay,” the guy laughs softly and take the brushes from my hands when we stand back up. “No one got hurt.”

Surprised at the lack of hostility in his voice, I stare at him with a half-smile. “R-Right. Yeah. . . You speak English?”

He nods and smiles as well. His brown skin glows in the light of the late-afternoon sun and his dark eyes twinkled mischievously. “I do. I used to be part of the Commander’s army.”

“Ah.” I shift on my feet awkwardly and ignore the way Gustus watches the whole interaction with an amused expression. “Cool, cool, cool. . .”

The guy raises an eyebrow with a smirk playing on his lips and before I can make things even more awkward, he gathers all his paintbrushes in on hand, extending the other with an encouraging nod. “I’m Milo by the way.”

I shake his hand, surprised he know this way of greeting (I’ve noticed the Grounders solely use forearm handshakes) and smile a genuine smile. “Nice to meet you, Milo. I’m Y/N.”

Milo beams and lets go of my hand again. “I know. I don’t think there’s anyone here who doesn’t know you. You’re quite infamous.”

I chuckle nervously and try to quickly think of a way to change the subject. “So—Uh, are you a painter?”

Milo glances at the paintbrushes in his hand and shrugs easily. “Kind of. I’m a potter and I like to paint some of my stuff.”

My eyes light up and for the first time since landing on this godforsaken planet I feel a spark of excitement in the pit of my stomach. I came to the conclusion that life down here was all about survival, but it seems as though artistry hasn’t gone extinct after all.

“Would you like to see?” he asks and before I know it I’m agreeing with a vigorous nod. “Alright then. Your friend can come along as well.”

Gustus grunts at that, but doesn’t object when I look at him pleadingly which makes Milo smile.

He jerks a thumb over his shoulder and beckons us to follow him. “It’s not far from here, I promise.”

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*not proofread yet

Tag list: @tigerlillyruiz @department-store-bazooka @hikyiwid

#x reader #the 100 cw #lexa x reader #lexa kom trikru #light angst #commander lexa

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agirlwithdemonblood · 5 months ago

Text

Breaking Free: Chapter 6- Dangerous Reunion

Pairings: AU! Mechanic Dean x Reader

Chapter Summary: After a heavy conversation with Dean and a request from John, Y/N finds herself in trouble.

Warnings: This chapter contains panic, domestic violence, anxiety, violence, abusive relationship,injuries read with caution.

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

-Three Weeks Later-

I woke up to a strange weight on my stomach. Opening my eyes, a smile naturally spread across my face as I glanced at Dean.

His arm was draped over me, his head nestled against my neck in a peaceful slumber. Checking the time, I frowned, realizing he was running late for work.

Leaning closer, I whispered, "Dean, wake up."

He groaned softly, snuggling closer. "Good morning, sweetheart."

His deep, sleepy voice melted me as I kissed his cheek. "You need to get up, your going to be late for work."

Dean smirked, sighing, "My dad's the boss. He won't fire me."

"But he won't be thrilled that on our first night living together, you slept in," I pointed out.

His smile faded, a troubled look crossing his face as he stared at the ceiling. Sitting up, I asked, "You haven't told him we moved in together?"

Dean sat up, taking my hand. "No. Why bother? He doesn't support us."

I sighed, worrying about Dean's relationship with his father. "Dean, I want you to have a good relationship with your dad."

"Our relationship is complicated, Y/N," he admitted, squeezing my hand. "It has nothing to do with you, or us."

Bullshit." I whispered.

I knew I was overreacting, but the thought that I might be ruining lives weighed heavily on me. All I wanted was for Dean to feel loved, especially since it was clear he wasn't getting that from his dad. Dean clearly looked up to him, and I hated that my presence seemed to prevent him from feeling that pride.

"Was the fight in the office the first fight you had about me, or was there another before?" I asked gently.

He sighed, wiping his face. "Before. The day I dropped off the car, after the Andrew incident."

I sighed heavily and buried my head in my hands. "What was the fight about?"

He sighed too, drawing closer and taking my hand in his. "Y/N... You really don't need to hear this. It's only going to make you feel worse."

Shaking my head, I met his gaze directly. "No, I need to know."

"Okay..." He hesitated before continuing. "It was because Andrew was supposed to interview my dad, but after the motel incident, we lost the opportunity. My dad was furious that I got involved in the drama between you and Andrew..."

I nodded slowly, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

Then, a memory flashed through my mind: our first date, when I noticed a cut on his lip and a bruise on his cheek. He hadn't had those injuries before he dropped off the car.

Memories flooded back—Dean's bruises on our first date. My heart raced. "Dean, those bruises… were they from your dad?"

He swallowed hard, his head bowing slightly. "Yeah."

My heart shattered as panic rushed within me. He had been hurt because of me, and that thought was unbearable, especially after what happened with Andrew.

"No, no... Sweetheart, please breathe," he urged gently.

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I-I can't believe I did this to you..."

His expression fell, pained. "You did nothing to me, sweetheart. It wasn't you. My dad and I have had our differences for a long time, and it's not the first time things have turned physical."

I wanted to hear him, to take in the words he was saying but all I could see was flashes from my past, every time Andrew told me it was my fault this was happening, now that Dean was the one getting hit, I believed it. It was my fault.

"Y-Yes, but for him to hit you… because of me… I can't…" I gasped for air, feeling like my chest was tightening, my ears ringing.

I collapsed to the floor, and Dean quickly followed, pulling me onto his lap. "Whoa, wait no, Y/N, breathe!"

I looked up into his eyes, seeing concern and pity, and I despised it. I hated feeling so reliant, like such a burden.

His hand moved soothingly up and down my back, his gaze locked onto mine as he took slow, deep breaths, silently urging me to follow suit. Without thinking, I mirrored his breathing, feeling the tension ease and the air flow back into my lungs.

He sighed with relief and then gently rested his chin on my head. "Sweetheart, I want you to know that it wasn't your fault. I wouldn't change a thing. Did I like that John hit me? No, but it's not the first time and won't be the last. It has nothing to do with you. He's just a jerk when he doesn't get his way."

I nodded, wiping my eyes. "I wish things were different for you. I wish he didn't hurt you."

Dean swallowed hard, his face becoming serious as he composed himself. When I looked into his eyes, I saw tears forming. "Dean?"

"This is the first time I've really talked about John... my dad hitting me. And it's the first time someone has cared enough to wish it was different. Usually, people just tell me to toughen up and deal with it, but they don't know about the hitting."

I held him tighter. "However you handle it, you're still a man. It's okay to be hurt by it. It's okay to hate him for it. It's okay to not be okay."

He nodded, kissing my head gratefully. "Thank you. Do you feel any better?"

"A little. I'm sorry I freaked out..."

He shook his head, helping me to stand, a reassuring smile on his face. "I understand, sweetheart. Fists, violence, abuse—it's a trigger. If it's happening to someone close to you, it can cause panic. Don't apologize... and thank you again, for what you said."

I kissed him gently and hugged him close. "Now you really should get ready before you get into trouble."

He winked, heading to the bathroom to dress. It only took a few minutes for him to get ready and grab his lunch before kissing me goodbye and leaving.

Alone, I sighed deeply. I did feel somewhat relieved, but I couldn't shake the discomfort of how violence seemed to be a common response in our town. Where had communication and understanding gone? Where was the compassion?

The day dragged on slowly. I cleaned the entire apartment and searched for jobs without any success. I updated my resume and watched TV, and it wasn't even evening yet. Dean wouldn't be off work for a few hours, and I knew I had to do something before I went stir-crazy being alone here.

I quickly got dressed and headed to my car. I figured I might as well pick up dinner or do some shopping—anything to pass the time. Just as I was about to start the car, my phone rang in the cup holder. I frowned at the unknown number flashing on the screen, but I answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

The voice hesitated, before speaking. "Hello.. Is this Y/N?"

I froze, recognizing the voice, and anxiety began to creep in. It was John.I tried to keep the shake out of my voice,

"Um, yeah, it's me. Is this John?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment. Can we meet up?"

"Uh, sure. Do you want me to come to the shop?"

There was a brief silence, making me even more nervous.

"No, I'd rather not involve Dean in this, and you know how he gets when he's protective."

"Got it... Okay, how about the coffee place around the corner?"

"Sounds good. See you in about 10 minutes."

I hunt up the phone and took a deep breath, wondering why John wanted to meet in person. Did Dean tell him we were living together? Was he going to confront me about something?

The uncertainty made me drive quickly, spotting him already seated inside the coffee shop. I put on my best poker face and walked inside, greeting him with a gentle smile. He returned the smile, but I could tell he was a little uneasy about this meeting as he motioned for me to sit across him from in the booth.

As I sat down, the air thickened with awkwardness, and my nerves began to rise.

"So, I just wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you the first time we met. I hope you understood where I was coming from," John started.

I nodded. "Yeah, and I'm sorry I haven't left Dean. I couldn't."

He raised his hand reassuringly. "No, don't. Dean told me about you guys moving in together this morning, and I'm happy for you guys. I don't get it, but I'm happy. But I do have a huge favour to ask."

I nodded for him to continue, my anxiety growing.

"Andrew has been ignoring my calls, but I finally got through to him when I mentioned that you were dating Dean," John explained.

My heart sank as fear gripped me.

"He said he'll agree to do the interview, the review, the news segment, but only if you're willing to talk to him. Just one conversation with him, for closure," John continued.

I froze. Why did Andrew want to talk to me? Did he actually want closure? Naturally, I wanted to refuse, to tell Andrew off. But here was Dean's father asking me for a favour. This could be my chance to prove I'm a good person.

"Now, I know that's a lot to ask, but—" John began, but I cut him off.

"I'll do it," I said firmly.

He looked surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. You're right, it's good for your business, and this drama between me and Andrew has nothing to do with you. If talking to him is the only way to clear things up and help you out, then I'll do it."

John stood up, moved to my side of the booth, and pulled me into an unexpected hug. I laughed and hugged him back. It felt good to be appreciated, even though the thought of facing Andrew made my heart race.

After saying our goodbyes, I left the diner and pulled out my phone, dialing the familiar number that always made me cringe.

"Hello Y/N." Andrew spoke knowingly.

"Hi Andrew. I just finished talking to John. I'll talk to you if you give him the interview and the segment." I replied firmly.

"Okay, deal. Can you come by the house?" He questioned.

I hesitated, "Maybe it's better somewhere in public.." He sighed and I could feel the frustration rising.

"Y/N, your stuff is still here. Come talk, grab your stuff and you can go."

I hesitated for a moment. Being at his house with no witnesses wasn't a comforting thought. But John knew my where I was going. "Okay, I'll be there in 15."

I hung up and dialed John's number immediately. He picked up quickly.

"Hello?" John answered.

"Hey, it's Y/N. I'm on my way to Andrew's. Um, I hate to ask this, but can you try calling me in about an hour? And if I don't answer, can you come by the house? Or send help?" I requested urgently.

John sighed as he paused, finally realizing maybe I wasn't making everything up after all. "Yeah, for sure. I'm sorry I asked you to do this.. and please, don't tell Dean yet, he will be pissed."

"Don't apologize. I understand, I won't tell Dean. Just please call me in an hour," I pleaded.

"I will," John assured me before we hung up.

I ended the call and started my car, heading towards the familiar house that always filled me with anxiety.

I wasn't sure why Andrew had insisted on talking, or why he'd used John as a middleman, but I knew I had to do this for him. For Dean. For myself. I needed to get closure, to say goodbye to the pain of the past. To do something big for others, and myself.

As I pulled up, I stared at the house. It looked charming from the outside and no one would suspect the nightmares hidden behind those gray walls. But I knew. I knew the darkness that lived within.

The walk to the door felt endless, each step heavy with fear. When I finally knocked, time seemed to quicken.

Andrew greeted me with a smirk. "Y/N, come on in."

I managed a smile and entered, glancing around at the unchanged surroundings. My clothes were still in a hamper, as if time had stood still in this place. Did he even live here anymore?

Sitting down on the couch, I waited for Andrew to join me. He sat across from me, his expression unreadable. "How have you been?" he finally asked.

"I've been alright... How about you?"

He smirked, avoiding the question with an angry look. "So, I hear you're living with Dean now."

I nodded, feeling the tension rise. "Yeah, for a few weeks."

He sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. "This is getting ridiculous, Y/N. You must know people are talking."

"Talking about what?"

"About you leaving a news reporter for a mechanic. It doesn't reflect well on you, or me for that fact."

I felt anger flare up inside me. "I don't care what people say. I'm happy."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you really? Happier than you were with us?"

"Andrew..."

"No, let's talk about this. Are you really happier now than when it was us? What did I do so wrong?" Andrew's voice was edged with disbelief.

I couldn't meet his eyes, gripping my fists tightly. "You hurt me."

He shook his head, "You know, your not innocent here. You always pushed me. We fight, is that enough to throw everything away?."

I stood up, the anger boiling over. "Yes! It was enough because you beat me until your fists were covered in my blood, and then you made me believe it never happened. You made everyone think I was worthless and a liar, and that it was my fault. I'm glad I left."

He scoffed, advancing towards me. "I have much more at stake than you do, Y/N. What do you have? A family that barely acknowledges you? No friends? A mechanic as a boyfriend? I moved here hoping to build a future with you. If you slander my name, it could destroy my career. Do you not understand that?"

I lowered my head as fear flowed through me at his distance, "I understand, but I haven't gone around spreading lies about you. I've only defended myself when others accused me. No offense, Andrew, but I don't care enough about you to ruin your career."

He rolled his eyes and sat down, burying his head in his hands, pretending to be upset. This was his tactic after every major argument—break down, apologize, beg for forgiveness, make me believe it was my fault. But this time, it wouldn't work.

"Why did you want to talk to me?" I asked, my voice steadier now.

"Because I want you back. I want the rumours, the fights, the drama to stop. You and I have a history. Can't you just come back home?"

I shook my head, staring at the floor. "This isn't my home. Dean is my home. You messed up. You hurt me. You tried to destroy my life. I'm not coming back."

He looked at me, his expression hardening. "Never?"

"Never."

He nodded, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants. "Fine. Your stuff is still upstairs. Let's go get it, and I'll help you load it into your car."

I nodded cautiously and followed Andrew upstairs to our old room. He moved with intentional slowness, his behavior unsettling. Deep down, I sensed danger, but I was too overwhelmed to act on it.

Checking the time, I realized John would call in about 15 minutes. I held onto the hope that I would be safe then.

But Andrew's anger was overflowing, he was disgusted by the fact that I would choose Dean over him, he couldn't understand what he did wrong, or he didn't care.

Once we got into the bedroom, he turned towards me, a sinister grin on his face. "I've changed my deal. I'll do the segment and the interview only if you come home to me."

I froze as the anger bubbled, "That wasn't the deal. You said if I came to talk to you."

He smirked and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, becuase I needed you to come here. Do we have a deal or not?"

I didn't even hesitate, there was no way this was happening. "Absolutely not, this is done."

Turning to walk away, fear rose as I felt his hand gripping my arm tightly, "Our conversation isn't fucking done, do not walk away from me."

"Andrew, let go of me!" I shouted, horror filling my body as he pulled me closer, hand closing around my throat, squeezing the sides tightly.

I panicked and acted fast, raising my knee to kick him before I rushed out of the bedroom as fast as my feet would take me.

I reached the top of the stairs when I felt a force push me from behind. Time seemed to slow as I tumbled down the stairs, landing with a painful thud at the bottom.

Andrew stood at the top, looking down at me with a cruel grin. I struggled to move, feeling intense pain throughout my body. My legs were numb, my head throbbed, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. I feared I had broken my entire body.

My phone rang, and I strained to reach it, but Andrew was quicker. He descended the stairs, snatching it away and covering my mouth to keep me quiet. He answered the call with a falsely calm attitude.

"Hello, John. Yeah, everything's fine. Y/N is just in the bathroom. Oh, and tell Dean that Y/N decided to come back to me. I'll definitely be doing your interview. Talk later, bye."

Tears streamed down my face as Andrew ended the call. I rested my head back, praying desperately that John wouldn't believe Andrew's lies, that he would sense something was terribly wrong.

Please, I pleaded silently, please see through this. Please, John, save me.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 7 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural one shot #dean #spn fic #jensen's smile #deanwinchester #spns #s

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rmwb-fanfics · 2 years ago

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@hinnymicrofic day 7: Jump.

He was back again. The pristine, impossibly vague form of King’s Cross Station surrounded him. It was brighter than he remembered, or perhaps he was just having a better time of it.

He was younger than he’d been only moments ago. By a good hundred years, no less. He spotted a bench and made his way toward it, stuffing his hands deep in his pockets as clothing appeared.

No one was here to greet him. For the first time in a very long time, Harry Potter was alone, and felt it.

He’d finally left the world behind, lying in a bed with his wife’s head cradled to his chest. Their grandkids had left, as had James, Lily and Al.

That was not Harry’s decision. It was one the three of them had made all on their own.

Perhaps they hadn’t thought it would happen so fast. They might’ve thought they had enough time to dip out and get something.

But Harry had been ready to die. His life had been full of every emotion and every experience he could’ve wished for. His friends were the best a man could have. His children were funny and daring and brought the world more colour and life than an artist could relay.

And Ginny had stuck by him through it all. She was light, and joy, and the breeze keeping the hot summer days bearable.

His life had been happy.

“So, you’re back,”

Harry startled at the voice and turned toward it.

On a bench that hadn’t existed prior to this, a few feet to Harry’s right, was Sirius.

He looked very young, his eyes shining with life Harry had never seen in person.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” Harry replied. If he hadn’t been through this before, he might’ve been more concerned with Sirius’s appearance.

Instead, it was comforting.

“I’m assuming I’ve got a train to catch?” said Harry, looking around at the endless platforms.

“That depends,” said Sirius, clasping his hands together in his lap. “I’ve always described it as more of a jump,”

“Jump?”

Sirius nodded. “Back to the living, or… on”

Harry frowned. “Back?”

Sirius smiled. “As someone else, at another time, another place. A second chance,”

Harry’s eyes glazed over with thought, falling back through the memories of his life and who he’d spent it with.

Voldemort and the Dursleys. Years of torment and despair. Friends lost and murdered. Regrets earned and chained to his ankle for the rest of his life.

“A fresh start,” Harry mumbled.

But then there was James coming home from school, escorted by McGonagall due to the severity of the situation. Ginny had been concealing her laughter, and Harry had to take the mantle of the responsible parent.

Dancing with Lily at her wedding, seeing her jubilant smile and listening to her plans for her and her wife’s trip to Panama.

Or Al, tending the flowers in their back garden even after his injury. He knew Ginny could do it, but he just wanted to spend some time with them.

Or maybe Ron, telling Harry that he was ready to go.

Or perhaps it was Luna’s mural on the roof of her bedroom, so long ago.

Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends.

And then there was his silver lining. Several sunlit days spent with the woman he could never, in a hundred and twenty years, find words fit enough to describe.

“I don’t need to go back,” Harry whispered, turning to Sirius. “For all the nightmares… the pain… I could never erase everything here. All that I am and was,”

Sirius got up and strode towards him. He kneeled in front of Harry and clasped his hands between his. “How is it that after so long, you’re still just Harry?”

Harry laughed quietly. He didn’t have much of an answer.

“On, then,” Sirius stood up and took a few steps away from Harry. “You coming?”

Harry shook his head, his eyes fixed on the pillar across the tracks from him. “No, I’ll wait,”

“It could take years, you know,”

Harry nodded, his lips curving up into a fond smile. He could’ve sworn he could hear her laugh, then. “She’s worth it,”

#hinny microfic #hinny #ginny weasley #harry potter #harry x ginny #Sirius black

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just-some-guy-at-shiz · 1 year ago

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Soooo… an AU where Elphaba’s emergency life-saving tin spell fails, and that’s it, he’s dead. Totally deceased. Full-stop. All over. No coming back from this one.

Until he does. Because of course he does. We wouldn’t have a plot if he didn’t.

Okay, so two people know about this death, and one of them wants to leave immediately for the Emerald City and leave the other one to clean up her own mess. Given that she’s been in love with Boq for years, Nessa can probably be trusted to perform a decent and respectful burial? And hopefully not do something stupid? At least not the kind of stupid that gets her arrested for murder. Tell people it was sudden spontaneous cardiac arrest, he had a medical condition, then shut up before you say something incriminating. She coulda gotten help with this, easy, but she decides to go out and bury him alone in a storm because she’s dramatic about her grief.

Which gets her out of her house at the time that it’s flattened by another house.

Don’t know how the lack of dead sisters and shoes to give away affects Dorothy and Elphaba and the A plot, don’t care.

Don’t know how Nessa gets her hands on that magic living powder stuff from later Oz books, don’t care.

She does, in fact, get her hands on some Powder of Life. Dunno if she seeks it out on purpose, dunno if she comes across it by chance and her eyes light up with excitement. But she goes out and does a little necromancy with her shiny new beginners’ reanimation kit.

So Boq’s back. He didn't get a chance to rot too much, and any rotting that did get done is healed pretty quickly by the Powder of Life because reasons. Still no heart, so no pulse, but I think we’re assuming that the magic gets all his other organs working normally again? It could be an interesting road to take if he’s still rotting, because again, you cannot have Boq without a little transformation body horror (unless you’re reading the novel I guess). How do you deal with literally falling apart while you’re still alive? Beyond the psychological effect, what are the practical difficulties? Looking from a scientific standpoint? But I digress.

If this went rather the same as in canon, with Boq screaming in horror and running and Nessa yelling that he should blame Elphaba, then we’re going to have to go with the rotting zombie option, and learning to deal with that is the plot. But if he’s back to normal (mostly) and feeling fine, then the plot is gaslighting.

Here’s how it goes. It’s a little too convenient, but stick with me. During physical decay, there’s a decay of memories, in reverse chronological order, obviously. So when Boq gets brought back from the dead, he’s lost all of the past like… how many years? Around three? It’d be a little too unbelievable for the last thing he remembers to be the Ozdust Ballroom, but at any rate, In his mind he barely knows Nessa, and he is supposed to be in an agriculture class right this second what is happening??

Nessa puts two and two together in the blink of an eye and doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of this. She tells him he’s got a head injury and apparently amnesia but it’s okay, she’ll fill him in on everything. And yes they’re dating, he asked her out in college and is very much in love with her and was probably about to propose, definitely. And no, she has no relation whatsoever to the evil Wicked Witch that is a thing now by the way, why would you think that? And yes you have a pulse, you must just be bad at finding it, it’s plain as day to me, don’t worry about it.

That’s it. That’s all I have for plot. Just a very easy opportunity for gaslighting. Nessa barely even has to try. I’m kind of hoping Elphaba is going to swoop in at some point and set the record straight. Maybe when she comes after hearing about the house-flattens-house thing, worried about Nessa. She’ll show up and see Boq willingly holding Nessa’s hand and know that something is very deeply wrong. And then she’ll remember that Boq is supposed to be dead, she watched him die, which makes it even more unlikely that he’d be standing there holding Nessa’s hand.

If I’m going to put Boq in this scenario, then the least I can do is send Elphaba to get him out of it once all the gaslighting has gotten as interesting as it can be and we’re ready to move on with the plot. Because it would be AWFUL if he never learned the truth.

But still. He doesn’t remember “the truth,” and he’s been spending weeks growing to love Nessa because he doesn’t have any reason not to. Even when he’s told what she’s done, he no longer has the emotions and experiences to connect that truth to, so they might not matter as much as what he knows he’s feeling right now. When he’s faced with an uncomfortable reality about the one person he trusts more than anyone.. is he really going to decide to do anything differently?

He’s always preferred a comforting lie…

#wicked #wicked musical #wicked AU #boq bfeeson #nessarose thropp #elphaba thropp #toxic. it’s always so toxic between those two #one of these days I should write a fic where nessa just Isn’t Awful #wouldn’t that be nice?

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psyduckappears · 2 years ago

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Memory loss for Stoncy?

read it on ao3

this was so fun!! also very long sorry heh

Between the three of them, Steve always thought he’dbe the first to end up with any form of memory loss. With all of the head injuries he’s taken in the past years, it only would have made sense.

Count on Jonathan Byers to defy any and all expectations.

It’s not that Jonathan has forgotten everything. He knows who he is, knows Nancy and his family, knows Will’s friends, knows Robin, knows Steve himself. He knows about the Upside Down, remembers Will disappearing and returning. There are just certain things that seem to have slipped his mind.

One of them is that Steve is no longer an asshole trying to ruin his life, that they’ve become friends over the past few years.

Another is that, for almost four months now, him, Steve, and Nancy have been together. That they’ve saved each other, held each other, kicked softly at each other under Steve’s kitchen table, told each other I love you.

When Jonathan wakes up that day in the hospital, Nancy asleep in one chair and Steve next to her, flicking through the book she brought with his tongue between his teeth, he frowns, shuffles uncomfortably in his sheets, and asks, “Harrington?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice, heart jumping at the knowledge that Jonathan is okay. The doctors told them he was okay, of course, but it’s hard to believe something like that when a body is pale and slow-breathing and wrapped in bleach-white gauze.

The use of his last name doesn’t trip him up; they still use them sometimes, jokingly, usually to tease or to make light of a situation. Last week comes to mind, when Steve woke up sweating from a nightmare, and Jonathan was right up with him, calming him until he let go for long enough to have a drink of water. Tired Jonathan is oddly fussy, worry written all over his face, and to tell him it’s alright, Steve had bumped their shoulders with a grin and said, Jesus, Byers, maybe you should forget about photography and think about nursing school, instead.

When Steve’s eyes meet Jonathan’s, though, there’s none of that glint in his expression, none of the soft happiness Steve sometimes catches on him when he watches Jonathan wake up and recognize him. That oh, right. You’re here. The one that always makes him giddy and stupid and that makes Nancy grin at them both and call them saps when she sees it.

“What are you doing here?” Jonathan asks, and it’s nothing short of hostile. It leaves Steve somewhere between speechless and breathless.

For a minute, they stare at each other. Jonathan makes no sign of being happy to see him – rather, he looks angry. A little scared. Most of all, confused.

“I – I should go get the doctor, or something.”

It’s some form of amnesia, something that got knocked out of place when Jonathan got that hit to the head that landed him here in the first place. Steve isn’t the only detail that got lost in it, they quickly realize, several memories from the past two-ish years having blurred or disappeared. He knows Robin, but only from school, doesn’t remember her from the mall or from her friendship with Steve. He doesn’t remember living in California but can recall isolated events and details from the time there, like Joyce’s job or a time he took Will and El to some fancy art show.

They don’t tell Jonathan about Nancy, Steve, and himself, at least not yet. Nancy holds his hand through it all, and Steve clings to it like a lifeline, pushing right past the bitterness some part of him feels because Jonathan remembers her, remembers being with her. Remembers all their firsts and the way he feels about her, the way she feels about him.

Even Joyce and Hopper look at him sympathetically when they come in, Joyce just off work and Hopper having picked her up, even though they never officially told anyone except for Robin.

“It’ll be okay,” Nancy tells him out in the cold, dark parking lot, rubbing her hands up and down his shoulders as he smokes his third cigarette in fifteen minutes. She took the pack from him when he lit that last one, gently pried it from his hands and stuck it into her coat pocket. “You heard the doctor. It’ll all come back to him eventually.”

“Probably,” Steve mutters. He drops the half-finished cigarette down on the grey asphalt and extinguishes it under the sole of his foot. “In most cases. And what if he never remembers?”

“He will,” Nancy says. She’s so self-assured, so confident, like anything else is out of the question. Like her determination alone is enough to make her words be true. “He will, Steve. But even if he didn’t, this is still Jonathan. He still loves you just as much as you love him.”

Steve isn’t so sure. He remembers that look on Jonathan’s face when he woke up and saw him there, that look that was nothing like those looks he’s grown so painfully used to. Still, he nods. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, in case the world hears him and decides to follow through on its threats.

He calls Robin from the hospital phone, tells her what’s going on, somehow manages not to start crying right there in the foyer. She tells him, essentially, a mixture of what Nancy told him and what the doctor said, and it’s still hard to believe, but the more people say it to him, the more he allows himself to cling to the hope of it all.

He keeps her on the phone for way too long, still doing anything for an excuse to avoid going back in. But the reception lady begins to glare at him, and Robin has to get ready for her shift at work, so he eventually hangs up and braves the looming, cold elevator.

The room is crowded, probably beyond what the hospital would usually allow. They’re regulars, though, and at this point most of the staff have first hand knowledge of how hard they are to get rid of. When Steve comes in, quietly slipping through the door, only El notices him for a little while. The others – Will, Joyce, Hopper, Nancy – are sitting around the bed, some in chairs and some on the foot of the mattress, Will rattling off story after story to see what Jonathan remembers and what he doesn’t. One of them must have left without Steve realizing because they have one of Jonathan’s photo albums with them, looking through the pictures page by page.

El waves at him, and he smiles but stays by the door, wanting to stay unnoticed for a few more minutes. It works about as well as to be expected.

“Come over here, kid, you can take my chair,” Hopper says the moment he notices him, and everyone’s eyes snap toward him. Jonathan has that look again, and Steve has to look away.

“That’s alright, Hop,” he says. He has a hand in his neck, scratching like he knows he shouldn’t because the skin there always gets really irritated during the cold months. “I, uhm. I just wanted to stop by before I left. Nance, is it okay if you ride home with the Chief, or I could pick you up later, or …?”

“Steve.” She frowns, sadly, like beckoning him over with just her eyes.

“It’s alright, really, I just – I got work early tomorrow, so …” He trails off because he knows that Nancy knows that he doesn’t have work tomorrow at all, that he already called in sick the moment they arrived at the hospital and Jonathan was off with the doctors. He’s pretty sure El knows he’s lying, too, and Will has figured out how to read him a long time ago. Joyce and Hopper – well, Joyce is a mom, and Hopper is a cop.

He's really only fooling Jonathan, who doesn’t want him here anyways.

Nancy calls him later that night when she gets home, and he promises he’s fine, no, she doesn’t need to come over, he just needs a little time by himself. To wallow, he doesn’t say. She tells him she loves him and makes him promise that they’ll go back tomorrow, and Steve agrees even though his stomach hurts at the thought of it.

The next morning, hours before he’s meant to pick up Nancy to take them both back to the hospital, the phone rings. He assumes it’s Nancy, maybe Robin, but when he picks up, it’s Jonathan.

“I – hi, Jon,” Steve manages, perplexed with a hand in his bed-hair and half his toast dangling from his lip.

“I got your number from the directory,” Jonathan says. He doesn’t seem to realize how easily he just stabbed him through the heart again, just through this one sentence.

“Oh.”

“I remembered the second half, midway through. Like I knew it the whole time, and I just forgot that I knew. Why do I know your phone number?”

“Why did you, uh … why did you want my phone number?”

There’s a pause, like Jonathan has to think about the answer. Steve can picture the little frown on his face, the one he’ll sometimes kiss away just to get him to laugh.

“I wanted to call you,” Jonathan eventually settles for. It sounds like it just occurred to him, and like the fact itself confuses him, and God. They need to tell him. But will he ever believe them?

(Will he want to believe them?)

“Well, I’m glad you called.”

When he pulls up outside the Wheeler house, Nancy is waiting for him with an overly large backpack sitting on the ground next to her. Instead of putting it in the back of the car, she places it carefully by her feet as she sits, and only then does she lean over to kiss Steve hello.

“How are you?” she asks, in that weighty tone that he knows better than say fine to.

“Better,” he offers instead, and it isn’t a lie. Jonathan called, which is worth a lot. He kind of remembered Steve’s phone number. He stayed on for a few minutes, letting Steve chat away a little bit, and thanked him for coming to visit, yesterday, even though it was clear he didn’t get why Steve had done it.

Nancy smiles at him, pressing another kiss to his shoulder as he starts the car down the road.

“I got some stuff, had Will bring it by earlier,” she says. “Some more pictures, his Walkman and the tape you made him a few weeks back, some more clothes.”

“You think it’ll help?”

“Anything can trigger the memories to come back,” Nancy shrugs, echoing what the doctor told them the previous day. “And we still think it’s better if he remembers organically, right?”

“Right.”

She seems to hear him hesitate. He knows she’s right. Or thinks so, at least. It’s not like he knows anything about any of this. That doesn’t mean he has to love holding back like this, pretending that keeping his distance from Jonathan doesn’t feel like days stranded without water. Pretending that it doesn't hurt, how easily forgotten all these things that mean the world to him seem to be.

(He knows that isn’t fair. He does. Still, he joined them late, and sometimes he still feels it, that fear that comes with it. Maybe Jonathan’s subconscious just decided they didn’t really need a third wheel too keep themselves steady anymore. And he knows that isn’t fair because he knows it was never about needing him, always about wanting him.)

Nancy seems to hear some of all this in that one word he utters because she grabs his hand over the console and doesn’t let go.

“If it really doesn’t work, we’ll tell him. I promise. He still knows you, somewhere in there.”

Steve squeezes her hand and keeps it until he parks outside the hospital.

Some of the memories come back more quickly than the others. Pictures from California help, and he remembers driving across the country in a pizza van, stopping in Utah, burying a body in the desert. Next is Robin, her showing up more and more to things with Steve.

While they go through the pictures together, Steve and Nancy sit on opposite sides of the bed, Jonathan in the middle with the album in his lap, and he keeps having to remind himself not to lean into his space too much. Once in a while, though, Steve will show up in pictures, more and more the further they get into it, and Jonathan will frown gently, trying to remember when he took them.

“I’m gonna get coffee,” Nancy eventually says, already rising from her chair. Steve panics a little, trying to offer that he go instead, but Nancy waves him off. “No, I got it. You want anything?”

Both Steve and Jonathan decline, and then they’re alone, only the album left between them to serve as a buffer.

“When was this?” he asks, finger brushing over the edge of one particular photograph. It’s from a night just a week or so after they all got together. Steve and Nancy had shown up at the Byers’ before Jonathan had made it back from work, and Joyce had asked them to wait in his room because she needed to make a particularly exhausting call to her insurance. Head in his lap, Nancy had eventually fallen asleep with his hand tangled in her hair, and that is how Jonathan found them. On his bed, Steve immediately shushing him with a grin when he came in the door. Jonathan grinned back, incredibly fond, and carefully picked up his camera from where he’d left it on his desk to snap a picture.

“Few months ago,” Steve says, trying to swallow all the meaning.

Jonathan looks at him, then, a strange expression on his face like he’s really trying to figure him out. “You look so happy.”

There’s nothing he can say to that, so Steve just nods, doing his best not to look at him. He fails, as always.

“It’s nice,” Jonathan says, slowly. Then, like he’s beginning to understand something, “I think that’s why I took it. The picture, I mean.”

“Hmm,” Steve manages, tugging at his lower lip with his teeth a little nervously. “Yeah. That sounds like something you might do.”

The thing is, Nancy and him never decided how long they’d wait for Jonathan to remember before they’d tell him the truth, and the longer it goes on, the more Steve himself starts to put it off. At first, he was just desperate for Jonathan to get his memory back, for everything to go back to normal. But Jonathan gets released that afternoon, goes back home, still doesn’t remember. Telling him feels scary, scarier maybe than when he first told him how he felt. Rejection now would be a hundred times worse than it would’ve been back then.

“Don’t you think it’d help?” Robin asks him while they’re stacking new arrivals the next day. “I mean, it’s a pretty big thing to be missing. If you tell him, maybe the other stuff will come back too.”

“Maybe,” Steve mutters. He’s cutting into the last of the boxes, eyes on the knife, but he can feel Robin looking at him, anyways.

“And I mean, I get that you’re nervous, and … hurt.” She hesitates not because she isn’t sure but because Steve isn’t always good about hearing these things about himself. “God knows, Jonathan will feel awful once he does remember.”

“It’s not his fault.”

Robin snorts. “Like you’ve never apologized for something you couldn’t help. Anyway, I really think he’d want to know, and I’m sure it couldn’t hurt, you know? …”

She dives into one of her rambles, then, and usually, he’s good about listening. Her ability to fill a silence has always been something he’s appreciated about her, as someone who can’t stand the quiet but rarely knows the right words to say.

Now, he’s distracted. Unloading the box, he has stumbled only over a small number of movies that actually sound familiar; he’s never been a movie person, even though Jonathan has set out to change that months ago. One, though –

“Clue!” he gasps, cutting into Robin’s monologue to earn himself a confused look. He holds up the tape with a grin, what feels like his first in forever, but it doesn’t seem to clarify much for her. “Clue, Robin! I kissed him for the first time when we went to see this!”

“That’s – an odd movie to do that to,” she comments.

“Fuck off, it was adorable,” he waves her off, delighted. “It was almost Christmas when it came out, and Nancy set it up for us. Said she couldn’t come because she had to help out her mom with something so the two of us would be alone.”

“Your girlfriend and wing-woman.”

“It was so ridiculous, I honestly didn’t really get it, but Jonathan thought it was hilarious. I’d never seen him laugh like that.”

At this, Robin softens from her mildly mocking look into something fond, the same look she wears when she teases him for being such a big, stupid romantic. She takes the movie from him, flips it over to take a closer look.

“That’s actually really sweet, dingus.”

He grins like I know, and snatches the tape back. “I’m checking this out.”

Jonathan is visibly confused when Steve turns up at his house after work, but he lets him in, and he doesn’t look unhappy about it.

“Mom and Will are both out,” he says, leading him into the living room. “And, uh, Nancy was here earlier, but she had to go a little bit ago. Had to go help her mom with something.”

Steve smiles and nods and accepts a can of soda until Jonathan finally stops fussing and sits on the couch with him, a few feet between them. Nothing can discourage him now, though. Steve has a plan, and, for the first time since Jonathan first woke up, feels like this is all going to work out.

“I brought a movie,” he says, handing over the tape. “Thought it might jog some memories. You remember this?”

“Vaguely,” Jonathan admits.

“We saw it in theatres when it came out. You really liked it.” Jonathan nods, like he remembers that, too. That he liked it. “Wanna give it a try?”

Even if this doesn’t work, Steve finds himself thinking a little while into the movie, this is worth it. He isn’t really paying any more attention to the movie than he did the first time they watched it, but Jonathan is just as delighted the second time around. He’s a little more inhibited at first than he usually would be, but eventually, he seems to forget Steve is even there, relaxing into the couch and letting his laughs escape freely. Steve commits every second of it to memory and vows never to hit his head again if it means never forgetting this day.

At some point, Jonathan gets up for another soda, and sits back down closer.

The next time something makes him laugh, he looks over at Steve for his reaction, and Steve has no idea what happened that was so funny, but he’s grinning back at him for other reasons. Jonathan’s eyes catch on Steve’s smile before he looks back at the screen.

The first half of the movie passes without much incident, and before he knows it, they’re closing in on that part, the one when Steve caught his eye back then, leaned in, and ...

With every new second, Steve’s chest seems to grow tighter with nerves. He recognizes the scene when it begins even though he doesn't think he could have said which scene it was up until that moment. Next to him, Jonathan tenses.

“I—” He looks over at Steve, again with that frown, asking a question that Steve has been waiting for. He smiles, encouragingly, and keeps waiting. The frown deepens, then dissolves, leaving Jonathan wide-eyed and with understanding slowly blossoming on his face. “Oh God,” he mutters. “Oh Jesus, shit. Steve ...”

“Do you ...?” The hope is growing in him, warm, all-encompassing relief.

“I am so sorry,” Jonathan says, terror in his eyes. “I—I can't believe—God, I—”

Steve takes his hand, slow and careful not to startle him, and squeezes it tight. He feels choked, feels tears burning behind his eyes, but finally, they are happy tears. God, but he's so fucking happy.

“It's okay,” he says even though his heart is sore from the past few days of hurting. “It's okay, Jon, we just didn't—we didn't want to overwhelm you, we didn't know how you'd react, so... but you're okay now. We're okay.”

Jonathan stares at him for a few disbelieving seconds, like he can't believe he ever forgot them, Steve-and-Jonathan. Everything they've gone through to get here. When the moment breaks, Jonathan launches forward to wrap Steve in a bone-crushing hug, another unspoken apology that Steve has no qualms about accepting. They still fit perfectly together, Jonathan's nose in the crook of Steve's neck, and even their awkward sideways position on the couch can't take away from it.

They stay like that for a while, and Steve only reluctantly retreats to press a kiss to his forehead and take in the sight of him. Jonathan smiles back at him, that tiny, wonderful smile of his, and leans forward again to kiss Steve slowly on the lips. If either of them were still watching the movie, they would realize that they're catching almost the exact same moment that they had their first kiss to.

When they part again, both are still smiling like surviving the end of the world.

“We need to call Nancy," Steve says. “She’ll want every detail.”

#stoncy #stonathan #jonathan x steve x nancy #angst with a happy ending #stranger things fic #prompt fill

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talesofsorrowandofruin · 2 years ago

Note

For the dragon asks!

Teeth: share a snippet that was difficult for you to nail down/required a lot of revisions

Thanks! :D

This is from Silver Glass, the first part of the flashback. It's by far the hardest thing I've ever written because it covers a real massacre. Warning for (among other things) murder, terrible injuries, and children being exposed to horrific violence.

If you want a proper history of Adana, you'll have to ask the historians. Davit only has his memories, and those are both too many and too few. They are sorted into two categories: things he knows, and things he has forgotten. The things he has forgotten are the most painful.

Two things he knows: his name is Davit Altounian. He is the youngest of five.

Two things he has forgotten: his father's voice. His brothers' faces.

He remembers the river running through the city, but not his neighbours' houses. He remembers his father owned a business, but not what it was.

He remembers his mother's parents lived with them. His grandfather died when Davit was a toddler. His grandmother Lusin sat in a corner most days and clutched an old tattered blanket. Davit is named after her oldest son, his uncle who died before he was born.

As a child he was afraid of his grandmother. Now he knows better. She lost all five of her sons in the Hamidian massacres.

Davit turns eleven in December 1908. By April the next year his voice still hasn't broken.

This saves his life.

He has no memory of when or how the massacre started. He remembers his mother Hamest running, clutching his hand, dragging him out of the house. He stumbles and she pulls him up again. It hurts his arm. His sister Dzovig grabs his other hand.

The street behind them is littered with bodies.

He never sees his father, his oldest brother or his oldest sister again.

Like hundreds of others the three of them take shelter anywhere they can find. In a church Davit stumbles across his second-oldest brother. Sahak has found a gun somewhere. His left arm is sliced open. The wound is covered by a few dirty bandages. He won't let Hamest clean it.

"Dress him," he jerks his head in Davit's direction, "as a girl. They're killing all the men and boys."

Sahak disappears during the night. Davit never sees him again either.

Hamest leaves and reappears with her arms full of a girl's clothes. They're splashed with blood and torn in places. She doesn't say where she got them. Davit doesn't ask.

They try to flee Adana. They don't succeed.

Davit doesn't remember what happened to his mother. He remembers Dzovig shoving him to the ground beside a dead man and lying on top of him. The man's abdomen is sliced open. Davit tries to move away so he isn't so close to the man's intestines spilling out of the wound. Dzovig tightens her grip and refuses to let him move. Flies crawl over both of them.

The mob thinks they're dead. It passes them by.

The massacre continues for a month. Half the town is burnt. Twenty thousand people are dead.

Adding Glass's taglist: @writingpotato07, @oh-no-another-idea, @sarahlizziewrites, @lightgriffinsect, @kittensartswriting, @acertainmoshke, @author-a-holmes (Let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

#ask #eccaiia #writing #my writing #my WIPs #WIP: glass #the flashback is basically a horror story

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anjumstar · 2 years ago

Text

All the Way Home ch2

Read on AO3

rating: teen

pairing: bakudeku

word count: 13.1k/81.1k

summary: Four years ago, All For One and Shigaraki were defeated, taking One For All with them. At twenty years old, Katsuki and a quirkless Izuku are heroes, boyfriends, and partners. Until one day, they’re hit by a quirk that suddenly makes them fathers too. Now, with a newborn baby, they have to figure out who did this to them, and why it means the downfall of superhuman society.

This work is a part of the @bakudekubigbang 2022. Updates will be weekly.

first chapter - next chapter

master list

His Name Is My Name Too

What a shitty loss.

It was a simple mutant quirk, like Gang Orca, or that American girl from Class B with her own troublesome set of horns. Hers were tiny, though, damn toys compared to the massive, twisted things on this villain’s head. But the guy had been strong, fast and slightly too resistant to Katsuki’s quirk. And handcuffs.

He’d slipped through Katsuki’s fingers. The pursuit had been close—Katsuki would hand over his license if it had been anything but—but in the end the guy had disappeared. Into a building was Katsuki’s best guess, and he’d spent a good few minutes barging into every unlocked door down the street that he could, but no dice.

“Not so much as a damn witness,” Katsuki relayed to Endeavor, lifting up his mask and wiping off the sweat with one gloveless hand. The afternoon sun soaked the black asphalt and bounced heat up Katsuki’s legs in waves. His sleeveless summer costume helped, but the fabric was still thick to resist tears and flame, with heavy gloves and boots for his combat style. His bangs were matted to his forehead, sideburns dripping down his jawline.

“Bad luck, Dynamight,” Endeavor replied, likely multitasking if his distant tone was anything to go by. Or already working to undo Katsuki’s fuck up.

It didn’t feel like bad luck, though. It felt like shit, frustrating in all the ways that brought out his worst instincts, pointing him in the direction of punching a wall, throwing a fit, or otherwise being the sore loser that he’d never grown out of. But heroics was never as simple as luck, not if you were good. And, loss aside, Katsuki was good. If he’d lost, there was a reason.

But for now, the loss was the ungodly focus. When he got back to the office, he’d still have to fill out a report, memorializing his failure to capture the villain, but since he was still on the loose, Endeavor had to disseminate everything Katsuki knew about the villain to other agencies as soon as possible. Well, an intern would.

And then there was Izuku.

“Where’s Deku? Is he back?” Katsuki had already texted him, but the bastard hadn’t responded.

“He’s at the hospital,” Endeavor replied, nonchalant in a way that only further fouled Katsuki’s mood.

That was weird. Izuku should have arrived at the hospital half an hour ago—more than long enough to drop a baby off and return to the agency. It churned sourly in Katsuki’s stomach. He’d seen nearly every moment of Izuku’s combat today—he hadn’t sustained any notable injuries. He had no reason to stay in the hospital.

“Hope ya don’t need my report then,” Katsuki said, already pulling his phone away from his ear to thumb in the address. A sweaty outline of his ear lined the glass. “Bye.”

Katsuki hung up the phone without another word to his so-called boss. It was a technicality. He’d been a full-fledged pro for two years already—it should have been three, but even with his level of experience, the year spent as a sidekick was mandatory. He didn’t need a boss.

With a glance behind him for civilians, Katsuki was off, airborne once more. Via protocol, Katsuki and Izuku’s patrols had been taken over as soon as they’d begun pursuing their villain. Usually he’d kick his replacement and get back to work, but not today. His active shift was technically over, but he was still in his costume, so no one would say shit for him using his quirk. He was Dynamight—no one would say shit anyway.

Being in uniform was handy for a great many things, actually. Like being able to see people in the hospital regardless of relation or visiting hours.

“Midoriya Izuku,” Katsuki said as he placed a still gloved palm on the front desk. “Where is he?”

“Hero Deku?” the young woman asked as she clacked on her keyboard with nails long enough to tap two rows above her fingertips as she typed. “Ah, he’s in the postpartum unit.”

“Got it.”

Katsuki strode straight for the elevators, not sticking around long enough to ask why the fuck his boyfriend was in the pregnancy and delivery wing.

Not like she would have known anyway. So he might as well just see for himself.

The postpartum room was in one corner of the hospital that Katsuki had never seen in his life, never even heard of. And here he’d thought that he’d been becoming overly familiar with the local hospitals—not so, apparently. And it must have been a slow day for deliveries if this room was available for Izuku, someone decidedly not postpartum. Katsuki had talked to a lot of tired nurses in his day that would have been more likely to assign him a seat in the waiting room. Or the parking lot.

It was suspicious.

“Yo,” Katsuki said, barging in through the open door, still in his full hero costume regalia down to the grenade launchers. He made straight for Izuku, who had at some point changed into navy blue scrubs, dark on the shoulders from where cleaned, wet hair had dripped and stained them. It looked altogether too natural against the hazardous waste bins and IV pole and guest chairs that Katsuki knew all too well. It was the antithesis to Katsuki’s sweat and dirt. Beside Izuku on the twin chairs was a heap of brochures, with one in hand. “What the fuck, Deku? No text?”

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, looking up from Formula Feeding 101. “Oh, I’m sorry. My phone died.”

He wiped his eyes with his palms, suddenly looking very tired. He was pale, perhaps due to the harsh hospital lighting, or else that dark color he was dressed in. Katsuki was usually the one who dressed darkly, while Izuku was all color. His closet would make for good confetti if Katsuki could shred it as he was often tempted to do. The only time he’d catch Izuku in black or something close to it was when he’d picked from Katsuki’s side of the closet.

“You should be,” Katsuki said, spotting the phone resting on a little tray table, plugged in with a charger that wasn’t his. The nurses were feeling especially generous today, it seemed. “I’ve told you to remove those battery drainers a million times.”

The phone was up to twenty percent. Enough to turn it back on again, at least. Izuku always ran so many apps and had so many articles bookmarked for later that he read during any spare moment, screen brightness no doubt up too high to boot. Once the lock screen lit up, Katsuki fiddled with the options, turning some off as his own text message came buzzing in.

“How’d it die so quickly?” Katsuki asked. There weren’t too many unnecessary applications just from the drop down. He typed in the password and brought up all open apps in order to close most of them. The first one was the web browser open to Newborn Screening Tests and Procedures.

“Ah, just caught up doing research.”

He stared Izuku down. Izuku dripping in his ridiculous outfit, cheeks cherry pink topping some cocktail of emotions. Katsuki, straight from the battlefield, trying to gain the upperhand as it slipped through his gloves. A long time ago, Izuku had admitted that Katsuki’s face like that looked like a glare, like he was angry, but that he’d learned the difference. If Katsuki was angry, he was spitting, he was loud, he was yelling. If he was quiet, he was just looking. He waited for more information to be volunteered, and when it wasn’t, he just grunted.

Izuku still held the pamphlet in front of him, but his eyes went past it. They weren’t squinted in their usual voracious concentration—they were wholly unseeing. Katsuki walked into his field of vision, and when that didn’t spark recognition, he crossed his arms. “Deku.”

He broke immediately. “I’m sorry, Kacchan,” he burst out, shaking his head, clutching at the poor paper in his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

The words echoed over the pamphlets and the very room they were in with its lucite bassinet set up beside the fully made bed—plusher than any hospital cot Katsuki had known. They swept over the Milk Up Blend lactation tea bags, the donut pillow on the chair beside Izuku and the diapers stacked just beside. They went back to Izuku and how—scrubs aside—out of place he was here. And yet this was where they were. It crawled over Katsuki, turning over his stomach until it felt not only tight but hot. Hot like stomach acid was burning through the lining to his skin, leaving his innards vulnerable and visible.

Everything was too obvious.

“What’s the quirk?”

There were dozens of known procreation quirks—Izuku had shoved many an article in Katsuki’s face over the years, eyes sparkling when clinics would open for surrogacy or fertility, muttering into his fist as he considered the moral ramifications that came with each one. If it were a more common brand of quirk, Katsuki was willing to bet there’d be reality shows or some other grossly corporate misuse. It was a good quirk for media, not just nerds like Izuku. And each seemed to work a little differently.

It was a roll of the dice. And yet. Quirk accident. Quirk baby. Genetically…well, it had to come from somewhere. And he’d seen that tuft of green hair.

“I don’t think there’s anything they can do to figure that out for sure,” Izuku said with another head shake. “All they can do is test for health.”

Katsuki’s molars ground, jerking his jaw to the right, then the left. Of course. It was their job as heroes to find out about the quirk. It must have been that woman Katsuki had grabbed by the neck, the woman he’d let go right before letting the villain go. Some fucking hero.

“Right, fine.”

“I’m…” Izuku continued, his voice hesitant. “I’m operating under the assumption that this is permanent. The alternatives are terrible. Even thinking about those is just…cruel.”

“Cruel?” Katsuki asked, latching onto the word. “Cruel means intention. You’re not hoping it’ll just—”

“Don’t say it,” Izuku whispered.

Disappear.

It was a hateful thing to wish for, but God, would it make things simpler. It happened sometimes, and the news media always pounced when it did. Just like any other quirk effect that wore off with time, so too did some of these babies, disappearing spontaneously or worse, rapidly deteriorating because of ill health.

“Okay,” Katsuki agreed as Izuku’s stare tore through him. “It’s…permanent.”

Katsuki might have thought that jumping into the line of fire meant that he understood the ramifications of permanence. He’d continued heroics after the war, understanding acutely what it meant to put one’s life on the line. But there was a difference, wasn’t there, between that kind of permanence—a loss, a consequence he didn’t personally have to face—and this. A change. An upending of one’s whole life. Katsuki shifted his weight, boots suddenly uncomfortably heavy.

“So…what’s the plan?”

Izuku was almost trembling at this point, head shaking once more—Katsuki wasn’t even sure he knew that his body was saying no, no, no over and over again. “It’s…It’s…Kacchan.”

The sobs swallowed up Izuku’s voice and Katsuki was over to him in three long strides. He dropped to his knees in front of his boyfriend, hard kneepads clanking against the speckled hospital tile. His gloves and gauntlets couldn’t come off fast enough, tossed to the side the moment they were detached, Katsuki pressing his hands onto Izuku’s thighs. With Izuku’s head bent as it was, they were almost eye to eye.

Not the moment to push—understood. Katsuki rubbed his palms lightly on Izuku’s lower thighs, his own stomach sinking. The answer came to him unbidden, even as the words stayed trapped behind Izuku’s throat. His mind scrambled to prepare him, to gear him up mentally for his life changing forever, but it stuttered and clicked, because who could prepare for this? Of all the life-altering quirks to prepare for in combat, why would either of them have a plan for this?

He pushed it to the back. Those same creaking pegs were turning in Izuku’s head too, his body giving away his instability. Those, Katsuki could crank back.

“Deku, hey,” Katsuki said, grasping firmly above Izuku’s knees, remembering briefly when a quick squeeze there would send Izuku into hysterics, gasping at how it tickled. Katsuki held still and stable. “Deku. We’ll figure it out.”

Izuku finally looked up at Katsuki, but it only hollowed the ache out more. Those eyes were filled with tears, fresh ones falling with every blink. Some landed on Katsuki’s hands, already chilled by the air and leaving a cold trail before rolling to the ground.

“His eyes are yours.”

His.

A boy.

Katsuk breathed. He breathed low into that treacherous stomach, trying not to let his chest heave too much as he fought to keep his body under control. He didn’t know what reaction Izuku needed, so he’d give him none. Until he figured it out.

“Okay,” Katsuki said carefully, measuredly. “Is he…okay?”

“He’s being tested,” Izuku explained. “It hasn’t been long—they just wanna make sure that being outside like that didn’t do any obvious harm. And then there are standard tests, I guess.”

“Okay,” Katsuki repeated. “Okay, that’s…good.”

“Yeah,” Izuku laughed dryly, almost sardonically. His gaze was back in his lap. “Kacchan,” his eyes finally sharpened, damp, but keeping it in, “you should break up with me.”

That uncomfortable heat in Katsuki’s belly spilled out the edges, tingling down his extremities in a rush of adrenaline. The same stinging burst he’d feel upon seeing a civilian falling or in the wayward path of a villain.

“Fuck you,” Katsuki spat immediately. His grip through Izuku’s pants became tight, sharp. “Fuck all the way off. Shut up. Try again.”

“No, you should,” Izuku insisted, his tone pitching upward. “You should—this isn’t what you wanted!”

“This isn’t what you wanted!” Katsuki volleyed back. “You don’t get to take me out of the equation just because you want to fall on your own sword. As usual.”

“But it’s my fault!” Izuku cried. “I should have been more alert! I should have been quicker back on the villain!”

“Every hero gets hit by quirks,” Katsuki rebutted. “We just got hit by a fucking serious one. Both of us. Now you don’t get to say what I do or don’t want.”

“But Kacchan, I do know!”

“You know shit!

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed, his voice a yell trapped behind clenched teeth. “Neither of us wants this.”

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. Clicked on the right side.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this and who would want this? A baby, barely out of high school, with fledgling careers they were challengingly managing to raise—much less another human. Too young, too new a relationship—less than three years. Only since graduation. Long for their age, maybe, but short in the span of their history. Short enough that next steps hadn’t even been on the table.

“We’re heroes,” Izuku said, all the volume from a moment before having been vacuumed out, leaving his voice unsteady. “This would…it isn’t…”

“It’s not what heroes do,” Katsuki completed.

All Might and Endeavor had been the veteran heroes of their time. Most heroes had followed All Might, who hadn’t lived to have children, having passed a few years ago with Izuku as his closest thing to an heir, even if One For All no longer connected them. And Endeavor…Katsuki didn’t want to think about Endeavor.

“Right,” Izuku breathed. “It’s not…what we planned.”

“Planned?” Katsuki scoffed. “What plan? We’ve never talked about this.”

They’d hardly spoken of the future on any level, much less children. It was hard to plan for the future when you had no idea how long your career would last, whether it would die or take you with it. It took all the focus they had just to survive living in the moment.

“Right,” Izuku said, another dry chuckle making its way out. “There wasn’t even any plan about this.”

“But did you…” Katsuki swallowed. “Have you ever thought about it?”

Izuku’s thumb had made its way to his mouth, chewing the dull nail as he considered the question.

“I was never good at imagining the future. I could only picture being a hero, which was supposedly impossible, so it was never a good picture. Not a lot of specifics—just a vague idea,” he admitted. “But I guess I thought…maybe someday…I don’t know. I guess it was nice to think of a world where it was something more heroes could have.” He turned to Katsuki. “What about you?”

“I…”

No. No, he’d never considered it. Never thought about children beyond saving them, returning them promptly to their families. His dream had been a simple one. Difficult but straightforward. Become the number one hero, and forget everything else.

Of course, Izuku had never been in that dream either.

Katsuki’s face fell to Izuku’s knees, letting out a groan of frustration as he landed. “It’s such a bad idea. It’s unsafe and unrealistic. It’s…It’s…”

A hand fell to Katsuki’s hair, exposing his sweaty roots to the cold, clean air of the room as it carded through flattened spikes.

“I don’t know,” he muttered into Izuku’s knees. “It’s not something I can even imagine. But…”

Speak, Katsuki willed him, willed himself. Where were all the ends of their sentences? Their whole thoughts? Since when did they half-ass anything?

“But…?”

“But I think you’d be good at it,” Katsuki admitted, bringing his head up. “You’ve always been sneakily good at everything, so why not this too?”

Izuku sniffled—the first sign of the waterworks starting again. His nose and eyes were still red from the previous bout, so Katsuki couldn’t be sure, but the rapid blinking was as much a sign as anything.

“Kacchan,” Izuku whimpered. “That’s so nice of you to say…because I’m gonna do it. You can not be involved and do your own thing, but I can’t…I can’t risk…It has to be me. I already told the hospital I would.”

It had only been four years since Izuku had defeated Shigaraki, the villain whose very ideology had been born from a hero choosing their job over parenting. A hero that, even without One For All, Izuku would always be tied to. Of course he’d see no other choice.

“Stop saying that shit.”

Izuku looked at him, sniffling a second time. The tears had only made it to the corners of his eyes, beaded but hanging on. “What?”

“How many different ways do I have to say it?” Katsuki asked, letting a bit of anger bubble up. “You’re not doing this without me. Yeah, fine, maybe I won’t be fucking good at this—”

“That’s not what I was s—”

“—but you don’t know how to do this either. So don’t fucking…” Katsuki clenched his teeth, clenched his fists. “Don’t fucking freeze me out.”

Izuku’s eyebrows curled up and Katsuki couldn’t bear to look, so he turned his gaze to Izuku’s knees. That only left him surprised when two arms wrapped around his shoulders, and his head was covered by Izuku’s long neck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freeze you out,” Izuku said, his voice vibrating over Katsuki’s skull.

“Don’t say fucking sorry again,” Katsuki mumbled.

“S—right.”

They stayed like that for a moment more before Katsuki pulled out of it.

“Goddamn idiot if you think I’m leaving you alone with the runt. You’re gonna just turn him into a mega dweeb, and I can’t let any kid with my eyes end up like that.”

Izuku smiled, the broad curve of his lips still a little wobbly. “What are you saying, Kacchan?”

Katsuki stood up, both knees popping from too much time on the ground.

“I’m saying buck the hell up and hand me one of those nerd pamphlets.”

He pushed Izuku’s shoulder to get him to one side so there was enough room to share, but, unexpectedly, Izuku stayed firm. Katsuki was about to chew him out again when Izuku went a different direction than Katsuki had anticipated.

“No,” Izuku said, taking the stack of pamphlets. “You have to shower.”

Katsuki squinted. “Why?” Then he put up a hand, quieting Izuku before he could answer.

The image of that first glance of Izuku holding the baby, away from his body, came unbidden to Katsuki’s mind. The reality of it nearly made him shiver. Cleanliness, right, safety for the baby. He would shower.

“Fine,” he said. “But you get me scrubs, and stop reading ahead. You’re not getting in front of me just because I was stuck on the field longer.”

Izuku grinned, the first expression that was at all warm that Katsuki had seen since starting their shift. It wasn’t the surest smile Katsuki had ever seen on his face, nor the biggest or the happiest. But it was a start.

“You’ll just have to try to catch up, Kacchan.”

When Katsuki stepped out of the shower, towel around his hips, he was met with dark blue fabric thrust in his face. It smelled of nothing. No detergent, just the crisp, almost papery smell of unscented clothes.

“We’ll match,” Izuku said through a thin smile.

“My nightmare.” Katsuki took the garment on top—the shirt—and flapped it once. It unfurled immediately, but deep creases remained in the fabric.

The banter was tawdry, an attempt at normalcy in perhaps the strangest situation they had yet to find themselves in. It was hardly like the two of them to playact, though. Even when things had been bad between them, pretending had never been a part of the equation.

“Kacchan,” Izuku started, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot. “I really am sorry.”

“Good,” Katsuki said, snatching the pants and giving them the same treatment. “This color is too close to Half ‘n Half’s costume, and I don’t appreciate the association.”

“Sorry,” Izuku replied. “And sorry about all of this.”

Katsuki pressed a thumb under Izuku’s chin and forced them eye to eye. “Did I hit my head in the shower or have we already been over this?”

Izuku blinked at Katsuki. “I’m sure Kacchan didn’t fall in the shower.”

“Exactly. So stop apologizing or I’ll punch you. Then one of us’ll have something to be sorry about. It’s not your fucking fault—it’s both of us.”

Katsuki’s hand reached for Izuku’s shoulder, the starchy material of the scrubs folding against his palm as he pulled him close. God, they hadn’t touched like this since that morning—everything was strictly professional at work. But they hadn’t even managed a combo move on the field. Katsuki slid his hand down, touching the bicep that had only grown more developed in the time since Izuku had lost his quirk. His skin was dry—a product of the hospital soap and no lotion. No doubt Katsuki’s would be the same in a few minutes, once the steam-soft glow left him and the sanitary air of the hospital dried him out.

“You wouldn’t punch me,” Izuku said, leaning into Katsuki’s touch, his whole body tilting to the side. His damp hair flopped over, rendering it even messier than usual.

Katsuki took a step closer, both arms drawing toward Izuku now. “Try me.”

Izuku chuckled into Katsuki’s neck and it felt like mornings. A light sheen had covered their bodies ever since they’d moved in together only a year ago. Both of their big, dense bodies ran hot, and despite having invested in a queen-sized bed, their limbs always ended up tangling. When they’d woken up one too many times with one man’s fist twisted in the other’s shirt, they’d gone shirtless. Now hands clutched arms, hair, shoulders. Most mornings, one of their noses was in the other’s neck, waking up to a gusty sigh borne against a sticky neck.

The tension that the hot shower hadn’t been able to pound out seeped from Katsuki’s shoulders as he slumped against his boyfriend. The powdery smell of Izuku’s head pushed through the antiseptic smell in the air, still there after the also scentless shampoo. Even though it was probably just dandruff, Katsuki pressed his nose into it and inhaled. He returned to a familiar affirmation that was usually there even when nothing else was: they were safe, so all was well.

“Talk,” Katsuki said, imagining that the proximity of the words might help them get through Izuku’s thick skull. “Anything but I’m sorry.”

Izuku hummed, and Katsuki waited for something more to come. He’d never been an especially patient man—neither of them were—but if the moment passed was in Izuku’s embrace, then the virtue came temporarily.

“I feel selfish,” Izuku whispered, the sound barely carrying the scant distance to Katsuki’s ear.

“You are selfish.”

Izuku laughed. “Right. Yeah. I just…this is asking too much of you. It’s asking you to change your whole life.”

Katsuki shrugged. “Same for you.”

“Yeah…”

“Look,” Katsuki pulled back, but only from the neck. Their arms remained tight around each other, “It’d be worse to split. Whatever happens…we have to stay.”

Katsuki wasn’t prepared for the way the words tightened on the way out his throat. The swallow that clicked and got stuck halfway.

Their relationship wasn’t that long, nor that reliable if history was anything to go by. They’d broken apart before, and Katsuki had visions of it happening again, all the ways that this could be taken from him. It had been a year since they’d moved in together, well over two years since they’d shared their first I love yous. This was something vital, irreplaceable.

“We have to stay,” he repeated. “Fight me on that again and I’ll kill you.”

Izuku chuckled and it rumbled across the tense muscles of Katsuki’s shoulder, loosening them just a bit more.

“Then we’d better get to work while we wait.”

For all Katsuki had said about Izuku getting ahead on research, if Izuku tallied up his knowledge in newborn care as a test score, it would be abysmal.

The pamphlets were good—he was keeping them, they were going to be folded into the pockets on his utility belt and smuggled out of the hospital for future reference. Once Katsuki was through with them, of course, but Katsuki had always been the faster reader, so he was nearly through.

There was so much to know. Izuku had bookmarks on bookmarks, living in folders within folders on his phone. Each article came with a big hero header of a sleeping baby all snuggled up in pastel knits or a parent’s arms. He sucked up all the information like mother’s milk—although they’d obviously go with formula. He’d have to ask the doctor for recommendations; that’s what the articles had suggested.

Pictures aside, it was almost enough to keep him distracted. So much to learn, all completely new. Almost enough to lose the feeling that there was supposed to be a third person in the room—and there would be, soon. Almost enough for the panic to ebb, but instead it simmered. Bubbles popping quietly under his skin by the moment, tracking time.

It passed slowly.

Katsuki was not a patient man.

Maybe he’d thought so for a moment earlier, but he was not. Ever.

He needed to move. The urge had brought him to the window. The room was shit—nothing but a view of another brick wall. He supposed that the rooms with a decent view—not that most windows in the city had a good view—went to patients suffering from illness or injury. Not new parents who probably just wanted to look at their baby.

Their baby.

He swallowed. Considered running to one of the nearby rooms, and asking one of those parents how they had decided, how they had planned. What they’d done given the chance to plan. But he stayed put, feet heavy like they were still in his boots instead of socks. Skin itching in clothes that weren’t his.

He swiped to another article and read on.

His mom would be happy.

Scared to death, of course—Izuku had gotten his nerves from somewhere. But she’d be happy, he thought.

Not that they’d ever talked about it—obviously they hadn’t talked about it. Of course not. But it seemed to be the kind of thing she’d be pleased about, at least after it sunk in.

It would be good news.

It would become good news.

Izuku wasn’t looking at him. His brows were furrowed toward his phone, eyes crossed in a way that’d ruin him for seeing far-off villains in battle before long. He hadn’t even glanced Katsuki’s way as Katsuki paced the short, narrow length of the room.

Katsuki suspected that was about to become the norm.

There was about to be someone new to look at. Someone at home. Someone between them.

Between. Both keeping them apart, and connecting them together.

“Break.”

Izuku blinked harshly as Katsuki snapped twice in front of his eyes. He squinted like curtains had just been opened in his face. But the postpartum room’s blinds had been open the whole time, and in the long hours they’d been waiting, the sun had grown gradually dimmer.

“That was the first time you’ve blinked in two minutes. Break. Water. Stretch.”

Izuku stood up automatically, his legs sore with the reminder that he hadn’t done any proper cool down after the afternoon’s fight that already felt days, weeks removed from where they were now. His mind was pleasantly focused on the popping of his joints, the relief of his eyes as he blinked and widened them. Then Katsuki stood before him with a little paper cone of water, and he startled.

Katsuki…would be a wonderful parent.

Izuku downed his water and watched as Katsuki chugged his. And when he finished, he watched for a while longer.

“We need help.”

The break had been short lived—Katsuki should have known he wouldn’t be able to get anything more out of Izuku than a breather. Despite the fact that a clock had been present in the upper righthand corner of his phone the whole time, Katsuki had still managed to lose track of how long they’d been going now, how long they’d been waiting. So it was a surprise for Izuku to be the one to drag them out of it. Not that Katsuki liked what he was saying.

“Hah? What are you talking about?”

“We won’t have time to buy everything we need,” Izuku continued, completely unbothered by Katsuki’s tone. That’d been the case for years now, though. “We won’t be able to leave the hospital without a check that a car seat’s been properly installed. But we don’t have a car and we definitely can’t risk public transportation. Not to mention everything else we need, even just the basics to make it through one day.”

Katsuki sighed. Even just the first few articles he’d read had made yen signs dance in front of his eyes. Babies needed so much damn stuff.

“Fine,” Katsuki agreed. “Call Auntie. I am not telling my parents about this—they’ll have a million things to say and they’ll never get around to buying anything.”

Izuku laughed. “You can’t just not tell them! They’ll find out and you’ll never hear the end of it. And besides, they’d want to know!”

“That the woman that keeps getting mistaken for my goddamn sister is a grandmother?” Katsuki crossed his arms.

“Yes,” Izuku insisted, pulling out his phone. “Besides, I think we need all the help we can get. I’ll call my mom about buying things, but yours are the ones with a car.”

Katsuki didn’t lose his skepticism. “What’re you gonna tell her?”

Izuku blushed, scrolling through his recent contacts. “I’ll…figure it out.”

“Fine. The hag gets the car seat and Auntie gets whatever the fuck else.”

“Sounds good,” Izuku said, putting the phone up to his ear and walking across the room.

Katsuki took out his phone as well, thumb hovering between the starred contacts for his mother and father. Bakugou Masaru was the easier option, always. He didn’t ask so many questions, didn’t interrupt, didn’t yell, didn’t judge—outwardly at least. His mother did all those things, but the whole conversation would take a whole lot longer if she caught wind of anything Katsuki was talking about and didn’t get the chance to hear it directly from him.

Preparing himself for the onslaught, he called his mother.

One ring in and it occurred to him that she might be working, or on another call. He might have to deliver this revelation as a voicemail or a text. Two rings and he was already wording a milder excuse that could pass over text. Have to transport a baby from the hospital. Need the car and a car seat ASAP. Not a lie, technically.

On the third ring, she picked up.

“Brat?” she said, and Katsuki was already listening for the telltale noises of extra voices or traffic in the background, trying to clock if she was at home. There was nothing but a slight hiss in the background, like water running or a bit of static between connections.

“Hag,” Katsuki greeted, his voice free of any fire for now. “You home? Is dad there?”

“Cooking lunch, as we speak,” she replied.

“Great, can you go on speaker?”

“Ooh, something serious?” Mitsuki’s voice suddenly became a bit more distant as the sizzling sound in the background grew louder. Katsuki realized he hadn’t eaten anything since before his shift.

Katsuki scowled by default, looking over at Deku who was gesturing wildly with one arm. He wondered how he was wording this.

“Everyone’s fine,” Katsuki said to begin with. Most of his serious calls home were because either he or Izuku had been injured, so he supposed at least that was playing in his favor. “But something did happen on patrol today.”

He waited for a moment, thinking that maybe the words would come to him in a burst of inspiration. That the words he and Izuku hadn’t even managed to say to each other would come out now in front of the critical audience of his mom and dad. They didn’t.

“Well, spit it out, kid!” Mitsuki probed. “I’m getting old over here!”

It wasn’t inspiration, but it was a flash of irritation, and that was enough. “Okay, then, well, congratulations, grandma! You’re officially old!”

Katsuki bit his lips, wincing at his own words. Izuku glanced over at him but turned back to the wall, words silent under the pulse of blood thumping in Katsuki’s ears. Then his mother’s voice came in low.

“…Is grandma a new insulting name your creative little mind has come up for me, or did you knock some girl up, because so help me, if you cheated on darling Izuku-kun—”

“Fuck, mom, I didn’t cheat on anyone. How would that happen on patrol anyway?” Katsuki’s face was hot, sweaty. He had to hold the phone away from his ear to keep from beading sweat on the screen. At least he could control the sweat in his palms and keep his hold on the phone. “There was a quirk accident. Now we have a baby. I need you to buy an infant car seat and drive us home tomorrow.” Katsuki paused. One breath. “Please.”

His heart pounded to the tips of his fingers. We have a baby we have a baby we have a baby.

“Oh,” Mitsuki said, her voice soft, hardly sounding like herself. Maybe Katsuki sounded that strange and unfamiliar when his voice was quiet. He’d have to work on that now. “Honey.”

“Like I said, it’s fine,” Katsuki insisted, the last word coming out harsh, squeezed between unwilling vocal folds as his throat tightened. “We haven’t gotten word that he’s unhealthy…and Deku wants him too, so it’s fine.”

His nose was burning, right across the bridge like a bad sneeze that wouldn’t come out. He rubbed beneath it, then hastily swiped a hand across both eyes, sweat coming away.

“Are you…Are you sure this is what you want?”

Masaru’s voice came on the line next. “We can help you out however you need.”

Katsuki shook his head. He could only imagine the pitiful look his parents were sharing over the phone held between them. Letting their lunch burn as their only son begged for help from the hospital. “Just the car seat.”

“Okay,” Masaru said. It seemed like he’d taken the phone as the sound of a pan scraping over a burner filtered to Katsuki’s ears. “Let us know if you need anything else. Congratulations, son.”

“Thanks,” he choked out.

“Send pictures!” Mituski shouted.

That brought a small, heavy smile to Katsuki’s face. “Fine, hag. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, dad!”

Katsuki’s heart constricted, already moving his thumb to hang up when that last word slipped out. Dad. He was twenty-one years old. He was a dad. He hadn’t seen more than a glimpse of the baby yet, but he was a dad.

The burning high up in his nose intensified. His face was hot, but not hot enough to justify the rolling liquid making its way down his cheeks, the tiny yelp that scratched its way out of his throat before he covered his mouth with his hand, squeezed his eyes shut.

That pounding in his ears was still too loud for him to hear anything before a warm, solid body pressed against him, wrapping one tight arm around his back. He heard a soft, “Bye, Mom, love you,” against his neck and then there was another arm around his ribs, squeezing tight but not tight enough.

His lungs felt tiny. His heart felt tiny, like everything in his chest had shrunk, organs, bones and all. But he still had to breathe, still had to pump blood and oxygen through his body. Izuku’s arms were nowhere near that, like they were holding onto something wrapped around Katsuki’s body instead, like there was some kind of barrier between them.

“Kacchan?” Izuku asked, his hold never letting up. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry,” Katsuki gasped. He wasn’t supposed to be the one to cry. Izuku was the crybaby. He didn’t cry. “I just…I don’t know.”

“Did you…change your mind?”

At that, Izuku’s hold lessened a bit, and Katsuki brought his arms up around Izuku, squeezing him with every bit of might that he needed himself. “No,” he growled. “It’s just…”

“It’s a lot,” Izuku finished. “It’s…It’s a lot.”

Katsuki nodded once into Izuku’s shoulder. This was the biggest shock—grievous injuries aside—that he’d gotten since finding out that Izuku had obtained a quirk. He hadn’t been prepared for that then, and six years later, faced with something far more consequential, it turned out he wasn’t ready now either.

But Katsuki didn’t do things by halves. If he was a dad, he was going to be the best dad there ever was.

“Knock, knock!”

Katsuki bristled. The door was already opening via a small nurse, who apparently needed no invitation in. Izuku looked up at her, eyes wide and vulnerable while Katsuki was—as Izuku would probably put it—glaring.

For a moment.

Because there, in the nurse’s arms was a teeny, tiny, blue bundle.

And Katsuki just realized that Izuku, the fucker, hadn’t told him nearly enough about what their baby looked like.

A little cowlick of green hair tucked out from the blanket, already curling like Izuku’s did. Inko’s color—though that was no less damning—and Izuku’s texture, at least for now. Chubby cheeks that nearly spilled out the sides of the swaddle, uncontainable even as the rest of him was folded tight like a little egg roll. The glance he’d gotten back on the street had offered none of this.

“So, good news,” the nurse began. “So far this little one’s doing fine—a very healthy little boy, not giving us any reason to think otherwise. We would like to keep him overnight to see if he develops a fever or any sign of illness from his time outdoors.”

Izuku was nodding out the corner of Katsuki’s eye, but Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to react. He was frozen.

“There are a number more tests to do as well, but now that he’s out of the woods, we wanted to take the opportunity to bond.”

Katsuki had never taken to bonding exercises particularly well. Forced friendship wasn’t exactly in his wheelhouse. What he had been learning was cooperation. That was what he and this little baby would have to agree to work on.

“Kacchan,” Izuku murmured, drawing Katsuki out of his stupor as he realized both of them had unconsciously drawn closer to the door, “you haven’t gotten to hold him. Do you want to?”

Without realizing quite what he was doing, Katsuki looked to the nurse, as if for permission. Her hair was the same color as Kirishima’s, and spiked where it poked from the contains of its low bun.

“Skin to skin would be best. If you’re comfortable,” Nurse Shitty Hair said, and the dozens of times Katsuki had read that term in articles came screaming back to him.

“It’d be pretty shitty if I wasn’t,” Katsuki said, already grabbing the hospital garb behind his neck and yanking it up.

“Well, parenting is different for everyone.”

Parenting.

Katsuki and Izuku followed closely as Nurse Shitty Hair walked over to the bassinet and unwound the baby from his blanket. His belly button had been clipped and looked like a nasty wound above his diaper—worse than anything he or Izuku were sporting at the moment, though that certainly wasn’t always the case. And the next thing he knew, the baby was lifted yet again, and held out in his direction with a big smile from the nurse.

“Support the head,” she said as she passed him over.

One hand on his head, and one on his body was more than enough; both of Katsuki’s hands combined were practically bigger than the little thing. Nevertheless, the image of dropping him, of inadvertently causing him harm somehow came unbidden into Katsuki’s mind. The best dad ever.

He pushed those thoughts aside and looked at the little smooshy face in front of him. Katsuki had been grateful for a long time now that he’d known Izuku since childhood, toddlerhood, even. Those earliest memories were lost, overshadowed by explosions and rivers and growing up. But pictures both their families had of Izuku, all cheeks and freckles, came to life right here in front of him, softly breathing in his hands.

“He’s all you, Deku,” Katsuki whispered before pulling the little guy to his chest. “Your face is all over him.”

“Just wait,” Izuku said, coming over Katsuki’s shoulder, his eyes locked on that sleeping face.

It occurred to Katsuki that this was the first time in years that he was shirtless in front of Izuku without the other at least giving a passing appraisal of his body. As he’d suspected earlier—he was no longer the focus. But as Katsuki looked at the little toenails scratching softly against his chest, each the size of ladybugs, he couldn’t be guilty or jealous. Izuku’d be an idiot not to be taken with the little guy.

“Kacchan,” Izuku gasped. “Look at him.”

Cautiously, Katsuki pulled the little baby back into the crook of his arm, resting him just under his left pectoral when he saw. Big red eyes. Katsuki’s eyes, his mother’s eyes, looking up at him with a Midoriya face. All open and trusting and nothing at all like what he was used to seeing in the mirror.

It was so much better.

“Fuck,” Katsuki said, bringing his spare hand to his mouth. Then he winced. “Oh fuck, I shouldn’t say that, should I. Ah, fuck.”

Izuku giggled, the sound warm and wet as the drool that was making its way to Katsuki’s chest. “I think you’re fine for at least six months, Kacchan.”

That was right—no words for at least six months, if not closer to a year. No real language until later on. Six months, a year, more—Katsuki’s head swam. “Fuck,” he said again, and it occurred to him that he might need to try and quit now if he wanted any chance of not corrupting this baby six months down the line.

“It’s not something to worry about at the moment,” Nurse Shitty Hair confirmed. “I’ll leave you three for a while to acquaint yourselves, and when I come back there’ll be the matter of paternity.”

“What matter of paternity?” Katsuki scoffed. “What’s there to know?”

“Well,” Nurse Shitty Hair started, “since the age of quirks, it’s not impossible for parentage to be entirely between two men, no ovum needed. We do have birth certificates prepared with the option for two biological fathers. Of course, we cannot legally require a DNA test out of either of you to confirm paternity, so it’s up to you to de—”

“Of course he’s ours,” Katsuki interrupted. His voice was probably too low and too threatening. He continued regardless. “Look, the kid is a lump. He’s wrinkly and colored all wrong and he’s squished in all kinds of ways even if he wasn’t technically given birth to. But I don’t have to be told what’s damn obvious.”

“Okay,” Nurse Shitty Hair said appeasingly. “Then all we need is a signed birth certificate. From there, it’s your choice to keep the child, or we can contact a social wor—”

“No!”

Izuku’s hands came to Katsuki’s shoulders, jostling him and causing a little gurgle to come from the baby as he rubbed his wet mouth across Katsuki’s skin. His fingers kneaded deep into Katsuki’s muscles, clenched, possessive.

“No, I already said—I’ll keep him! We’ll keep him!”

His gaze shifted frantically from Katsuki to Nurse Shitty Hair between exclamations. He landed on Katsuki, his face suddenly flushed. Desperate.

Katsuki looked the nurse straight in the eye.

“He ain’t going to foster care, I’ll tell you that now. Next place that kid goes after he aces his tests is right there.” He pointed to the bassinet already set up, cold and empty next to the medical bed.

Izuku relaxed a bit beside him, chest sinking against Katsuki’s bare back.

“Okay, then that’s all I need for now,” the nurse said. “Let us know if you change your mind—I know, I know, you won’t,” she added, putting a hand up before allowing either man to interrupt her a third time. “But do let us know. I’ll be back in a bit with a birth certificate and to show you how to feed. Then it’ll be back to testing. Oh, and here’s this.”

The nurse handed Izuku a small, wooden box, with an irregular but light grain running up and down the long end of the rectangle.

“It’s the kotobuki bako,” she explained. “We placed a small bit of the umbilical cord in there in case the stump gets lost when it falls off. That way, even if that bit is lost, your baby never will be.”

Izuku held the box reverently but Katsuki eyed it carefully. He didn’t believe the old wives’ tale that some bit of fleshy tissue saved in a nice box would predict this baby’s fate, no matter how far back the history went. Izuku had a way of giving fate the slip and it wouldn’t be any surprise if his progeny was the same.

Still, if even if it just added a speck of luck towards this quirk baby not becoming lost, who was Katsuki to dismiss it?

“Thank you,” Izuku said with a small bow. “We’ll take good care of it.”

“Once we have the name, we can have it embossed. We can do that when I return with the birth certificate.”

“Okay, thank you,” Izuku said again, and then it was just the three of them.

Whatever certainty Katsuki had felt while snapping words at the nurse left as she went out the door. The little boy in his arms was a stranger, as unfamiliar to hold as the belly button box Izuku now carried. He was someone Katsuki had met only a few minutes ago without so much as exchanging names. Because he didn’t have one. Because suddenly, that and so many other things were Katsuki’s job. Well, half his job.

“What do you wanna name him?” Katsuki asked, turning his head towards Izuku. Izuku had loosened his frantic grip on Katsuki’s shoulders, but had only grown closer everywhere else. His arms draped down Katsuki’s sides and the bare skin under the scrubs’ v-neck was sticky against the skin between Katsuki’s shoulder blades.

“I have no idea,” Izuku said, his voice quiet now, mindful above all of the baby in the room, who appeared to be dozing again, though Katsuki couldn’t be sure..

“Really? You never thought about it?”

“No.”

Katsuki craned his neck to the side, but it was hard to see anything past Izuku’s hair as he looked over Katsuki’s shoulder at the resting baby. Looking at the two side by side was almost too much for Katsuki, so he returned his focus to the baby.

Finally, he said: “Midoriya.”

“Wh…What?”

“His family name,” Katsuki stated. “It’s a start, at least.”

“But—but why?” Izuku pulled away, the small triangle where their skin met detaching like adhesive as Izuku looked over the baby and at Katsuki.

“You found him,” he shrugged.

“And—And what? Finder’s keepers?”

Katsuki pulled the baby from his shoulder, looking at his soft, sleeping face once before shifting him to the other side.

“Keepers, at least.”

It was hours later that they were kicked out.

Baby Midoriya had been taken after both Katsuki and Izuku had taken turns holding him, shiny patches of dried spit on each of their chests to prove it. Despite its novelty, neither man could be overly concerned with spittle when they’d had such worse bodily fluids smeared over their skin on the job. They left with word of more tests, plus overnight observation. And since neither Izuku nor Katsuki was recovering medically from birth, they were given the boot to make way for someone actually recovering from labor. Katsuki had been close to fighting the staff, but when they came face-to-face with a sweaty, exhausted woman in a wheelchair, they’d left, promising a bright and early arrival the next day.

“Shouto’s concerned we didn’t come back to the office,” Izuku said with his eyes to his phone as they both held onto the grab handles on the train.

“Tell him he can shove that concern up his ass,” Katsuki replied, feeling a vibration in his own pocket. He glanced at it and saw a message to the same effect. Katsuki supposed that was to be expected when he left every group chat Shouto or Izuku made between the three of them.

“You don’t wanna say anything?” Izuku asked.

The train swayed and Katsuki’s shoulder bumped against Izuku’s; he grounded his stance to keep from making unnecessary contact with any of the other passengers. He didn’t want them to hear anything unnecessary either, so he lowered his voice over the squealing of the train wheels. “I think we have enough on our plates right now without bringing twenty nosy assholes into this.”

“Shouto wouldn’t tell!”

“Then he doesn’t have any reason to know, does he?”

Izuku blinked at him. “That’s horrible logic, Kacchan.”

Katsuki signed, taking a deep breath and exhaling out flared nostrils. “I’m just saying. If we don’t even know for sure what’s happening yet, let’s not involve anyone until they need to be involved.”

“…I wish we could talk to All Might about this.”

That was a heavy blow. Even though All Might, to Katsuki’s knowledge, was no expert with kids, Katsuki would like to talk to him too. All Might had been their secret keeper—or secret giver, more accurately—and it’d be nice to talk to someone who wasn’t his goddamn parents about this. But it wasn’t an option. They could only imagine what he’d say.

“He’d want us to be cautious,” Katsuki offered. “This is a new quirk, and we should take in the facts before we do something else we can’t take back.”

Katsuki readied further arguments as he looked out the window to take stock of what station they were at. Two more till home. Before he got the chance to exercise any of his potential rebuttals, though, a sweaty hand slipped into his, and Izuku smiled. “You’re right. All Might never liked how rash I was. There’s nothing to tell until we know what to tell.”

The rest of their commute was a winding walk through their neighborhood and up to their apartment complex. Between that and the train, it became abundantly clear to Katsuki that they’d made the right call in bowing to their parents.

It became even more clear once they made it to their apartment.

“None of this is okay,” Izuku said grimly the moment his shoes were off. “We have chords on the ground, and all these outlets. And the corners on the coffee table are so hard—and our bed! The bed frame too. And our dresser—we never secured it to the wall, Kacchan!”

“No one does that, idiot—this is a rental,” Katsuki said, ripping his shirt off. They’d made the commute still in those scrubs, and Katsuki couldn’t wait to get them off. Maybe moisturize too. “And he won’t be able to crawl for months anyway. What did I tell you about reading ahead?”

“We should start thinking now, though, Kacchan!” Izuku insisted. “We might have to hire someone to install childproof locks and stuff, and that necessitates an appointment, and who knows how long those take to book? Plus, we’re bound to forget things, so it’s important to take stock now—mmph!”

Katsuki had Izuku pressed against their dangerous, outlet-riddled wall, navy-clad legs slotted together as he kissed his boyfriend for the first time since that morning. He was squeezing too hard, he knew. Clenching Izuku’s shoulders, feeling how hard he’d pushed him into the wall from the pressure against the back of his fingers. The kiss was hard too, lips pushed against teeth, Izuku’s head flat to the wall until their mouths opened, tongues meeting languidly, lips caressing with practice.

God, they should have done this hours ago. All of that waiting when both of them were there the whole time. All of the confusion and overwhelm, so many feelings with so few words to express them. At least there was this.

When they pulled back, they were both panting, chests meeting on every inhale. “I needed that,” Izuku said, running his hands through Katsuki’s hair.

“Yeah,” Katsuki agreed, restraining himself from going in again immediately. “Let’s just…”

“Live in this one last time?”

A surge of emotion lapped up Katsuki’s belly, but he held it down, suppressing it. This was the last night they’d be in this apartment, just the two of them. Yesterday had been the last day of the life they’d known—too late for that now. But they knew what was coming tomorrow this time. It would be a whole new world, a whole new existence. Their last night as just Deku and Kacchan.

Katsuki nodded, drawing back in towards Izuku’s mouth. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

#bkdk #bakudeku #anjum writes #katsudeku #ktdk #bkdkbk #bakudekubaku #dekubakudeku #dkbkdk

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