#got another head injury and lost three days of memories | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whxre-bxby · 1 year

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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agirlwithdemonblood · 3 months

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 · 1 year

Text

@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 · 10 months

Text

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

Note

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 · 1 year

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

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.

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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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arcann · 2 years

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16 or 45 for Taigat! (Sorry if this is a double send)

I finally finished this lol. Thank you Josie ❤️ Decided to make it for both

16. dreams and 45. svelte

| cw for implied abuse and description of injuries, character introspection, 3.4 k

Dancing shined as one of the greatest arts, exalting any place, any person, any sound that accompanied it. Where words weren’t enough, movement was capable of transforming simple delight into a truly visual pleasure. The fleetingness of dance could make one value how unique each step of the performer was, saving it in one’s mind, the memory becoming a treasure on its own.

And the viera had truly mastered it.

Only viera who have left the forests, that is Mother used to say, a smile Taigat could only describe as beautiful adorning her face. At least they prefer to remember it like that even if their sisters had many more colorful ways to describe this comment behind her back. Scathing, patronizing, barbed, bitter.

Vindictive.

But no matter their opinion on Mother’s past, all of them had learned at her feet, taking her craft seriously until they had trained enough to create something truly special. Taigat never got the chance to see all their sisters dance together but just watching them one by one or in small groups of two or three, they knew the patterns and steps they took as symbols for each of them. The light sway of arms matched by powerful strokes of their legs that allowed them to attract the eyes of any onlooker was distinctive for each. They could choose to spin at an incredible speed that would let them reach the top of the stage or simply let themselves advance in a composed manner that left the audience expectant of what might happen next.

Vexot enjoyed waiting for the right time so she could do something that would truly amaze while her twin Covet gave everything she had from the moment she appeared in the scene. They were a strange pair that constantly tipped the balance between the pleasant and the bizarre but Mother was hopeful that once Taigat had grown and gained more experience their participation would finally leave them on the side she expected them to stay in. Their stomach still twisted at the thought of how much practice that would require.

224, 166, 82 and 82, 42.

Those were their sisters' ages when they were born. Most had gone through an entire life before they could even walk, reaching goals others could only dream of having the time to achieve. Would simple effort be enough to reach their skill? Why would they wait for someone who was almost a stranger to catch up to them?

They’re missing the firstborn in their list though, the only boy, another stranger. Mother never talked about him. He died when she and her husband still lived in the forests of the Skatay range, centuries ago now. He was the very same reason they left. This they learned accidentally when Zialat, the only sister interested in returning to the traditions of the Green Word, got into a shouting match with Mother, resentful of the choices that were made for her so long ago. The screaming and blaming invited a horrible situation no one cared to stop and that was also the last time they saw her.

They lost a sibling that day. Maybe two. They never asked about either of them, about what happened. They came to regret not doing it. Later, when they could fix none of it.

Fate would have it that they never learn to dance the way Mother wanted them to but they did learn the value of memories from her. Of how fleeting they were. Of how one could adopt the memories of others, like ghosts dancing to unknowable tunes in places one could never see. Of how one could feel their loss even if one never had them. And how they were made to be suffered as much as Mother suffered for her art.

—

The headache comes back, making Taigat moan in pain. They clutch their head and close their left eye, shutting away every source of light to search desperately for comfort. For now they deal with the throbbing sensation in the right side of their face, which has nothing to do with the sun. It was as if someone inside their skull grabbed a pair of pliers and pinched every inch of skin behind their right eye. What was left of it anyhow.

Despite the haze, they can still feel their father tense beside them and let out a shaky breath.

“Come, my heart. The wine-dark sea can still be seen from my quarters.” His amused tone is betrayed by the goosebumps in his arm as it circles their back and helps them move slowly to the right, towards the captain’s cabin.

And so their little ritual of watching the sundown in the deck of Dyulgor’s ship is interrupted once more by Taigat’s soreness, as it has been every single time they have tried to go back to normal. The pain remains, leaving the viera in bed most of the day, rising only to try and make little trips around the ship, in an attempt to make themself feel better.

None of them have ended well.

The pain should wane, it should not leave them exhausted by midday, it should stop coming back every evening. But that’s the opinion of the few worried crewmates who’ve only dealt with wounds made by common weaponry or the casual accident. There are optimists aboard but none of them are healers of any merit and they learn that the hard way, every time there is an injury they don’t know how to deal with, like the ones the captain is keen on leaving others with.

Together they reach Dyulgor’s room after carefully maneuvering through the disorder sailors leave in their wake. Taigat is guided to the bed that used to be Dyulgor’s but lately they have called their own. The best one in the entire ship their father reassured them and as they curl themself over it they’re certain he’s right. Anything to keep them comfortable and dissuade them from exploring the lower decks. Last time they had missed an entire ladder and despite being completely unharmed their father had carried them back to his quarters, examining their limbs and head in search of injuries that weren’t there for more than an hour.

Taigat’s father used to be all winning smiles for friends, victims and enemies alike but the master of this crew’s ventures kept a silent demeanor these days, becoming a shade of the svelte and decisive man he used to be. Worry had wrecked him and doubly so now that the band of mercenaries he had meticulously collected for their fierceness could clearly smell blood in the water. Few pirates thought of a weeping man with a sick child in his arms as a strong leader and his inner circle kept getting smaller as the days went by.

He had to thank himself for that. An apparently brilliant idea butchered by his own doubts, starting the timer on a conflict he couldn't stop.

But for now his child slowly uncovered their healthy eye and searched for his face, finding it a few inches away from their own, his cheek leaning in the border of the bed as close as his curled horns allow him to be.

Dyulgor’s lips trembled, his eyes shining more than usual. Once more his face was haunted by questions neither of them could answer but Taigat could almost hear.

What did I do? What did I do to you?

"Do you still think–" the pause that follows is filled with worry, the Xaela organizing and reorganizing his thoughts before finally whispering two words.

“– about leaving?”

“Years ago you said I should leave.” the viera utters warily, knowing not much good would come from that particular scene of their past. But it should be stated clearly. No more ambiguity between them, as they had agreed. Even so, their heart still twists when remembering how it felt being the target of their father’s more dismissive side.

“Now you don’t want me too?”

“No. No. No, I don’t.” Dyulgor swallows hard trying to keep his voice firm.

For a few seconds Taigat lets himself enjoy what Dyulgor’s words implied. The knowledge that they are wanted here, that they were free to stay. They could learn everything their father was willing to teach and lately he had been an open book, sharing anecdotes that went as far as him being a child in the Azim Steppe or the first days he took to the sea. Every accomplishment and mistake piling up until he became the man he was today. Familiarity, at long last. They can't hide the little smile that forms in their lips as they stare at their father’s face.

But their right eye socket stings once more, calling them away from their dream. They reach to caress the neckline of Dyulgor’s shawl, appreciating the soft wool under their fingers. They use more force than necessary to keep him close but the au ra doesn’t seem to notice.

"Your men think they're subtle but I can hear them, even from here. Especially that hyur with the ugly yellow tattoo over his eye and the sunkeeper miqo'te with the golden daggers. They're thinking of setting some kind of ambush for you once we reach Vylbrand but they want more people first. Last I heard nine crewmates had taken their offer but I'm not sure who they are. It’s been two days."

Dyulgor motions himself away but Taigat interrupts him, roughly pulling a handful of his white serape so he stays where he is. He grabs their hand to shake it off but the viera holds on with all the strength they have left while he keeps fighting.

“I’m not healing and that’s why this is happen–”

“Don’t say that! Not when I–”

“No.” Taigat’s tone is severe and it feels strange to hear it. But it needs to be said. “You’re going to leave me in the next port we reach. We’ll find a healer, one who understands cursed wounds and I’ll stay with them, for as long as I need to. You’ll deal with your mutiny as you seem fit. You’ll get your respect back. And I, my health.”

Finally Dyulgor gives up, slumping once more on the corner of the bed. He releases a long sigh and looks at them with reddened eyes, the first tears rolling down his puffy cheeks.

“You thought of this, haven’t you?” His voice breaks and he fights back the involuntary whines that come with crying. “I can’t blame you, not after what I tried to do, but–”

“It’s not safe here, not for me… or for you. And you can’t make it safe with me here.” Dyulgor might have yielded to his guilt, gripping their hand not to throw them away but to keep them close so Taigat was now in charge of keeping the conversation going.

“I’m not forbidding you from visiting. I want you to, after a time has passed. I have lived most of my life inland so I will be able to do much more there. It will be easier to train and adapt to my new condition. I want to try things I've never dared to do and if you are willing to wait I will show you how much I can progress.” They let their smile get larger and hope it doesn’t look forced.

“Maybe I can finally start sending letters to my sisters again. I haven’t done that in a while.” Years, they remind themself, the nerves rattling inside their stomach.

After a few minutes of silence, Dyulgor snorts at that.

“And you used to say your sisters didn’t care for you.” He murmurs as he pulls Taigat’s hand to his face so he can clean the stream of tears with their sleeve while glancing at their face and waiting for their reaction. The viera might have pulled away, faking disgust but that meant Dyulgor was feeling better, or trying to appear so. He hadn’t said no.

“I think… I think I was wrong. Very wrong. I spent too much time with mother when I shouldn’t have. They’re all very different from her and I can finally see it now that I’m away.”

Dyulgor snorts again, this time with more disgust than humor.

“Of course they’re different. They brought you to me, my heart.”

That gives Taigat pause. Had their sisters made the right choice? They certainly wouldn’t feel like they did, once they discovered what had happened to their youngest sibling. If they discovered it. Taigat would need to decide whether to tell them or not, sooner or later.

“And maybe that’s… another reason why I need to leave.” Dyulgor’s face is drained from all color, noticing his slip up far too late. But that’s not the conclusion Taigat wants to reach. Not today.

“I want to be free to choose and I choose Eorzea.”

The silence stretches as Dyulgor deals once more with the reveal he had fought to accept for so long. His room, once illuminated by the last rays of the sun, had slowly fallen into darkness and neither of them moved to light a candle or the fireplace. However, the dark couldn't hide their father’s frenzy, a scowl forming above his reddened eyes slowly relaxing itself and disappearing only to return when a new yet unknowable thought crossed his mind.

The viera sighs at that, trying to find the patience to stay candid.

“I used to blame fate for the problems I had and couldn’t understand when I was a kid. I didn’t understand why I had to follow mother’s traveling company, leaving behind every friend I ever made or why I had to practice dance for hours when I clearly had no talent or why my sisters could only bear being with us for more than a couple of days or why I had to talk about Zialat like she was dead...”

The memories are bitter as they replay themselves one by one in their mind.

“And then I did. I understood who the problem was. My sisters– Avat, figured out where that was going, much sooner than anyone else did. And I realized that I never wanted to feel like that about anyone again.”

They pause to focus on Dyulgor’s face again. The frowning is gone but without any movement they can’t figure out his expression in the dark just the eerie glow of the limbal ring in his right eye.

“I do not want to resent you for what happened, just like I do not want to resent my sisters for deciding how I should live when it didn’t work out. And to ensure that, I need to return to Eorzea, where I’m sure I left something incomplete. Someone stole something from me. My memories, my training and who knows what else. And I intend to take it all back.”

Dyulgor doesn’t say anything to that, his undisturbed silence making the situation more uncomfortable than it should be.

“Will you not say anything to me now?”

The answer, to their surprise, is immediate.

“If you go back to that place will you fight Garleans again?”

They want to say maybe, I sure hope not, I don’t even know if I did the first time around but those are phrases they would have said four years ago, when they felt their own inexperience overwhelming, the lack of confidence in themself permanently melded to their voice. That is not who they are now, nor will they be ever again.

What comes out is. "Yes. I will. And I’ll be ready for them."

They can hear their dad swallow hard and return to stillness, his grip on their hand becoming almost painful.

The way Taigat came back to him was an occurrence surrounded by mystery, appearing in the middle of the open sea and clawing their way up to the decks of his ship, barely remembering a thing of what had happened the months after they had left and what little they talked about was forgotten soon enough. This happened right after the second moon had crashed in Carteneau, unleashing all the disasters tied with a Calamity. Dyulgor was thankful his child could be at his side in that dark period but their behavior was erratic to say the least. Unnerving, some of the crew called them but he forced them into silence soon enough.

They can add it to the bunch of complaints for all I care, he used to say. If he had only known how much bad blood had slowly gathered since then.

But then again, the new recruits hadn't seen how bad Taigat could get, especially at night. When the two found themselves alone, the viera would describe to him in detail the nightmares that assaulted them, sweating and shaking violently, begging Dyulgor to keep them company until the sun rose again.

In those cursed dreams, they were fighting a losing battle with a monster donning a striking white armor and a fearsome halberd, with glowing red eyes and ears like wings of a bird (And actual wings? Sometimes it had enormous draconic wings.) It seemed unstoppable and soon enough it struck them down, a deep slash over their right eye marking the end of their doomed conflict. Taigat dropped to the ground, paralyzed with dread while the creature took to the skies at unnatural speed and dragged the moon down with one gigantic claw. The satellite would begin to crack like an unholy egg, melting into a rain of fire. The last thing they always saw was the crimson glow of Dalamud lowering itself over them until it swallowed the earth around them. Everything in sight was consumed by its light. The last sensation was the air being stolen away from them as if they were slammed into water until they woke up, the sheets of their bed tied around them, making it difficult to breathe.

Dyulgor could work with that, making assumptions here and there. According to him the abomination's armor, without its more arcane aspects, fit the one used by the leader of the Seventh Garlean Legion who Taigat might have, at some point, fought during their travels. He was most likely the man who mutilated them.

The first time around, a tiny voice in the back of Taigat's head had been whispering those last days, filled with a rancor they could only assuage for so long. It was another reason why they wanted to leave. They didn't want to wait and see if this chimera adopted their father’s features to torment them in a newfound form.

However, as time went by, Dyulgor gave up on these notions only wondering aloud certain thoughts he left incomplete, possibly too inconsistent with the narrative he had made up in his head.

Despite the grim scenario Taigat described and its more surreal details, they could have… Considering how broken they were when they returned maybe… That same legate had been assassinated by unknown assailants so it was possible that… And even if it had taken them years he could see a strength in them growing, something new and almost startling in the way they spoke and acted, so perhaps…

"Good. They think they’re winning. Show them how wrong they are.” He kisses their knuckles and begins to stand, groaning as his knees clearly resent being bent for so long.

"I'll do the same here. Mutinies are always the same tired dance and this one seems more tragic than the last.” He releases their hand to pull the covers of the bed over them and moves to kiss their forehead but stops just above them.

“I want to hear their screams all the way into the sea. I want to see them burn just like when we watch the sunset. You promised to show me progress. You'll prove it like that."

He plants the promised kiss, carefully avoiding the gauze covering his child’s right eye and pulls back reluctantly, walking towards the door with heavy steps.

“Sleep well, little heart. Thanks to you I can start handling this nuisance. You’ll be safe for the night.”

With that Taigat was left alone, reflecting on what just happened.

They were free to leave. Free to heal. Free to move on. They could start again. For once their excitement was so distracting they could barely feel any ache. It was enervating to have something to look forward to after years of stagnation.

It’s their own strength, coming back to them.

—

Many months later, when the Praetorium was ripped from its seams and shot into the sky, bright like a midnight sun, Dyulgor in his bloodstained shawl watched the show from his deck.

#oc: taigat #oc: dyulgor #rel: hurt suffer heal #written words

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angstywaifu · 8 months

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I Think I Deserve A Kiss - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Happy Valentines Day for all my fellow Australians and future people! Have some cute Xaden Riorson fluff with the prompt "I think I deserve a kiss."

It felt like anything that could have gone wrong today, did go wrong. I had woken up late due to being out late on a supply run that didn’t go exactly to plan. Because of that I’d missed breakfast and barely made it to my first class on time. Xaden and Garrick had someone managed to get up on time and be there. Both raising eyebrows at me as I ran in while shoving my arms into my jacket.

During flight training a squad mate hadn’t been paying attention and dove straight down into my dragon and I causing me to come off. Luckily my dragon had been quick to right themselves and catch me before it was too late. Then at challenges another fight interrupted ours, and due to it I’d lost track of my opponent and gotten jumped. And then everything had gone black.

The throbbing in my head was almost unbearable as I woke from whatever slumber I was in. No not a slumber. I didn’t feel rested and no way would I have been able to sleep with all this pain. I open my eyes and squint as I’m blinded by the light above me. I go to sit up, but two very strong hands push me back down. I vaguely hear them talking to me, but there’s still a ringing in my ears. That’s right. I’d been in challenges.

My eyes finally adjust and I see I’m in the healers quadrant, a mage light right above my bed. The curtains are drawn around my bed, giving me some privacy from the rest of the room. A hand firmly grasps mine, a thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hand. I look over to see Xaden sitting next to my bed. I must stare at him confused as he raises his eye brow at me.

”You ok?” He asks, his voice sounds rough. Almost as if he had been yelling.

”No, but..” I pause as I’m unsure what to say. The emotion I see on his face isn’t one I’ve seen before.

”But what?” He asks sternly as he raises one of his eye brows at me.

”You look worried and you never look worried?” I tell him.

I feel his body stiffen at my words. Clearly he had been trying to hide his worry from me. But I’d seen right through him as his onyx eyes had betrayed the hidden emotion. Xaden wasn’t emotionless by any means. But he usually did a very good job at hiding them. Choosing to save them for behind closed doors or around those he trusted. I guess behind the drawn curtains he kind of was.

”You would be to if you saw what I saw.” He stands and walks to the end of my bed, running his hands through his hair.

“What do you mean?” I ask worried.

What had happened? It was just a challenge. We did them all the time. We got hurt all the time. But the pulsing pain in my head told me that this time was probably one of the more extreme outcomes of challenges. In my three years in the quadrant I’d been lucky enough to avoid any major injuries. Till now it seems.

Xaden barely turns to me as he motions to a mirror sitting on the table next to me. I grab it and hold it up to my face. I gasp and almost drop the mirror. It was clear my injuries had been mended as much as they could. But the stitches on my cheek and lip, and the bruise around my right eye and peaking through the collar of my shirt told me I had received a decent beating when they’d gotten the jump on me.

“I should have been watching. But I was too caught up on making sure that damn Sorrengail girl didn’t get killed. And next thing I know there’s screaming across the other side of the gym as that asshole beats you to within an inch of your life.” I can see Xaden’s shoulder visibly shake as he recalls the memory.

It’s then I notice Xaden is not in his training gear. He’s in his normal uniform. As he turns I notice the slight hint of shadows forming under his eyes.

”How long have I been unconscious for?” I ask hesitantly.

“Three. Days.” Xaden practically spits out angrily.

Even though the anger is not directed at me, I still flinch at the tone in his voice. Three days I had been out for. I shudder as I look at my reflection in the mirror. If I had been out for that long my injuries must have been way worse than what I am seeing now. The curtain to my bed is moved to the side revealing the only mender in the healers quadrant. I don’t recall his name as I haven’t had much to do with him. As he approaches me Xaden walks out leaving me alone with him. With how angry he seemed to be I don’t blame him for leaving, but I can’t help but feel a bit sad at him leaving me alone. I sit in silence as the mender tends to my injuries again. Due to me being awake he is able to heal a bit more, and luckily he is able to take away the throbbing headache I had woken up with. With instructions to come back again in a few days and a tub of healing balm I am allowed to go back to the riders quadrant. As I walk through the big doors that lead back to the riders quadrant I find Xaden leaning against the wall waiting for me.

He reaches out and pulls me into his side, before placing his hand on the small of my back as he leads me back to my room. Classes must still be on with how empty the corridors are. We don’t bump into a single person on the way back. I don’t dare try to break the silence as I know it’s better to leave Xaden be when he is in one of these moods. He opens my door and ushers me in, before guiding me over to my bed and sitting me down. He squats down in front of me and places his hands on my knees as he looks at me.

”You should get some rest. I’ll come back and grab you for dinner ok?” He tells me quietly. His voice is void of any emotion. His default when he’s trying to stay calm when he is anything but calm.

I do my best to ignore the twinge of pain in my heart as I nod my head. He softly smiles at me and nods slightly. He stands and kisses the top of my head before quickly leaving my room. As he closes the door I let you the breath I didn’t realise I had been holding in. Xaden is right, I do need to sleep. After being mended I felt exhausted. And even though I had been out for three days, I felt like I’d been awake for three days instead. I place the healing balm I still clutched in my hands on the bedside table before changing into some more comfy clothes and climbing into bed, sleep consuming me almost immediately as my head hits the pillow.

I don’t know how much time has passed, but I feel the bed dip slightly beside me. I open my eyes to see I’ve rolled towards the wall. But I can tell immediately it is a lot later. My room is now dark, bar the soft flicker of a flame. Strange. My mage light is usually much brighter than this. I feel the bed shift next to me again and I look over my shoudler to see Xaden sitting next to me, his face illuminated but a soft flickering light. He seems to be a lot calmer as he smiles softly at me. I roll over fully and my breath catches in my throat.

Multiple candles have been lit and placed around my room, explaining the soft flickering light in the room. On the table, Xaden has laid out food he must have gathered from the dining hall. I’ve clearly missed dinner with how dark it is outside. Next to the dinner he has brought, which is also enough for the two of us, is two big slices of chocolate cake.

I look over at Xaden who is smiling at me, his shoulders shaking slightly with a silent laugh as he looks at my shocked face.

”What is this?” I ask him.

”Well I came to get you for dinner and I couldn’t wake you up while you looked so peaceful. So i brought dinner to you.” He tells me softly. The way his brows furrow tells me he is doing his best to think about his works.

I nod my head slowly. “But why all the candles?”

”Well, I’d actually planned to ask you something, but what happened kind of put a dampener on my plans.” He admits as he looks down at the floor.

”What plans?” I’d asked confused.

I tried to rack my brain for what he could mean. What on earth could he have wanted to ask me the other day?

”I was-” He pauses, his eye brows furrowing again. “I was going, to ask you. To be my valentine.” He finally gets out.

I freeze in shock as he looks up at me. He looks scared. But it quickly changes as he tries to hold back his laughter. Obviously the look on my face is quite amusing for him.

”Left you speechless have I? Thats a first.” He teases, easily grabbing my hand as I go to playfully hit him. “That’s not very nice.”

”It’s what you deserve for teasing me.” I sassily say back.

My breath hitches as he leans in close, our noses barely touching. He’s so close I can see the golden flecks in his onyx eyes, I can feel every breath he takes. He obviously hears it as he chuckles softly.

”I think I deserve a kiss.” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smirk.

I go to playfully hit him with my other hand. Yet again he easily grabs it as if he knows what I had planned and uses the momentum to pull me closer and into a kiss. His arms snake around my waist, pulling me into his lap, my legs sitting either side of his as I straddle him. The dinner and cake quickly forgotten.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the empyrean #xaden riorson #the fourth wing #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x reader

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plusanimablog · 1 year

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Chapter 28: Diary Of The Tree-Leaking Day

Baby Senri!

And Upas totally knows him, Senri choosing him as the first to know that his father is taking him up the mountain. This natural survey is the first step to becoming a man, Upas wisely says. There, Senri wonders if he will have a bear Anima, like his father and Upas does...

Anyway, Commander Iggy tells his troops to be on alert despite things being currently chill with the Kimunkle. They're different people from a different area so it's literally impossible to predict what they'll do next. A troop member wonders out loud if the bear they saw earlier was a magical creature causing a few friendly Kimunkles to approach and explain that the bear is a rare Anima technique where they can attack or defend through a projection of their Anima spirit. Only certain people in the tribe can do it. Iggy has the appropriate reaction to learning there's a bear Anima in the tribe:

So the group is dealing with amnesiac Senri. Nana is taking it particularly hard, her controversial "shake and berate the person until they remember you" technique having to be halted by Husky because it was somehow not working on him. Husky thinks this may be the result of a head injury and Cooro asks Senri if there was something he wanted to forget. Senri doesn't answer and Upas approaches, Cooro casually dropping another drama bomb by saying he was the one who sent out the bear Anima earlier. Upas says this has happened to Senri before and reveals he's from the Tooa tribe, same as Senri. The Tooa tribe was destroyed by the Sairando and Upas was saved by the Shurosa while literally everyone else was either killed or sold off into slavery. Senri's father, Riiya, was Upas' best friend.

So it's good that Senri has surviving family, right? Nope, Senri doesn't remember him...in fact, now he double doesn't remember him due to his brain's recent factory reset. He lost his memory the first time when he was eight and his father died, getting anterograde amnesia that left him unable to form any new memories. Nana points out that while he was traveling with them, he displayed the ability to remember but Cooro minorly counters that he had the tendency to stare into space a lot...still, Upas recognizes this as important progress considering the state Senri left in. Then Iggy stomps over, identifying Upas as the bear Anima bearer.

He says at the battle at Moss Mountain, the one that killed the army commander (Iggy's father) was Upas himself. Upas asks that if he shows Iggy who killed his father, will he try to kill him? Iggy sternly says "maybe". Upas leaves instead, telling Iggy off for bring personal stuff into the business he's conducting for his country. To further muddle the issue, Upas thinks to himself that he can't just let Iggy kill his enemies off...

Husky goes off by the forest by himself and Cooro follows to see why (Nana sticks behind to try to make Senri remember; she's controversial in the medical community but dammit, she's the best chance we've got). Husky says that she won't help and Cooro points out that Upas, despite being family with Senri, didn't seem happy about seeing him at all. Husky says that Upas is masc and guys don't show emotion like joy or relief because it makes them looks like pussies. He's probably happy on the inside. Cooro still wonders though...

Senri flashback time: he and other Toora are going to climb a cliff wall to be like the bear. Flashback over...and Upas apologizes to the memory of his dead friend out of nowhere.

Anyway, Shira gives Iggy a task: go to the Great Red Rock Cavern and retrieve a sign. Iggy has to go alone with three of the Kimunkle to show him the way. He accepts, being told it's a test of strength. Upas then asks Shira to take Senri up the mountain. Nana understandably doesn't want Senri around Iggy but Upas points out the journey up the mountain might jog his memories. The group wants to come but they don't let children up the mountain so they have to stay in the village. The group is worried...but Cooro just tags along, reasoning that they'll just stay behind and fret anyway. They might as well follow. Not really having a way to dispute that logic, they follow after him.

Iggy is tired already but all of the Kimunkles are fine, Upas checking in on Senri's status. Senri flashes back to a time when he was told about a man-eating bear named Amurui. Then his dad tells him he'll have to kill someone someday...

In the present, Upas says that he believes that Senri can regain his memories...although some memories are best left forgotten. Then he leads him away, saying he's found some good friends...before turning into a bear, ending the chapter saying that it's time for Senri to die.

#+anima #manga #review #i knew it #i knew there was something up with him when he held the beast back from iggy #upas is scary because he's smart evil #he gave a good reason for not helping iggy #but he was in it to cover up his own shit #gonna call it #he killed senri's dad

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possthrowaway4q · 1 year

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I've learned/realized a lot about my health issues recently, and I... really need some opinions. Particularly from people with traumatic brain injuries. So I'm gonna share my story.

Major Trigger Warning: birth complications, asphyxiation, seizures, child endangerment, medical neglect

(Sorry this isn't under a readmore I have literally never been able to use them on mobile without breaking the post)

I was lied to about my birth story. I was told by my mother that I came into the world a beautiful and perfectly healthy baby (and in her defense she very well could've convinced herself of this). This is, according to what my dad told me now that I'm an adult, completely false. My mother and I both almost died. The doctors didn't believe she was in labor yet. Called it Braxton Hicks for multiple days. Wasn't until one of them actually checked and saw my head that they believed her. Came out completely blue with the umbilical cord wrapped around my neck and was totally silent when they unwrapped me. Had to spend multiple days in the NICU in one of those oxygen tents. Don't know a lot of the details because apparently it wasn't discussed much. No idea if the doctors said anything about potential long-term issues and even if they did, there's no guarantee my parents kept an eye out properly. Didn't find out until a few years ago that I had hallucinations and frequent vivid nightmares as a young kid and the person mentioning it clearly didn't think much of it, despite me vaguely remembering seeing two separate child therapists around that age. Like, early elementary, I think.

That's not the only event though. Summer between 5th and 6th grade I had a drug-induced seizure. I was being watched by a family member who was kind of notorious for hoarding all sorts of medications. Including ones she was no longer prescribed. She didn't keep everything in their proper bottles either, moving pills between and re-labeling them. Including putting prescriptions in OTC containers. I asked for something for a headache. She gave me a pill saying it was Tylenol - didn't even see the bottle it came out of - and left me be again. Wasn't long before I knew something was wrong. Thankfully, I had my phone in my hand and was able to text her before I lost complete control of my muscles. Dunno how long exactly the seizure lasted, but it must've been at least ten minutes because that's how far away my parents lived and they were there with me when it ended. Remember my dad picking me up and holding me until I could talk and move again. We never did go to the hospital. Idk if it's because we all assumed I was fine once it was over or if it was because no one wanted to get the family member in trouble. Would explain why she called my parents instead of an ambulance, I suppose.

Been thinking about that tonight. Realized I was never really the same after that. I went from all As in school to completely unable to keep up with most subjects. I couldn't think or focus, I was in a fog most of the time, was losing large gaps of time and couldn't remember both short and long term things, and shortly after that was the beginning of my three year long psychotic break. Everyone remembers how the start of middle school is when all my mental health symptoms went into overdrive and I was just. Notably worse. And to top it all off, I always have said that my memory of my past seems to only go back to a few substantial memories in 5th grade and everything prior basically doesn't exist most of the time.

So I guess my question is just... could I have brain damage? Birth asphyxia is bad enough, but a 10+ minute long seizure as a child? I'm pretty sure that's way past the threshold of a medical emergency/when permanent brain damage can start. But every time I mention the idea to anyone, it gets brushed off. Either because I "don't need another thing wrong with me" or "does it really matter?" or because neither thing are your typical ideas of a TBI.

Sure, I've got a bunch of other reasons I could have these symptoms. Even just on the mental health side, ADHD, autism, psychosis, dissociative disorder stuff, and it's been too long for any doctor to say definitively one way or the other if they even take me seriously. But... I don't know, could those have contributed? Hell, could that be the root source of some of it that no one connected to because we never talked about it after the fact? (I even completely forgot for a long time. Didn't think it was a big deal. Didn't really understand seizures at the time.) I can't emphasize enough how drastically my health changed after that seizure. But maybe it was just puberty or the increase in difficulty/stress from going from elementary to middle school.

Surely it's possible though that those things at least exacerbated underlying issues or something? I guess the root of my question is whether the traumatic brain injury community would have me. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully, publicly identify that way, but I still desperately want to know if I'd be welcomed if I tried. Could I really have brain damage or am I just being dramatic or a hypochondriac or something? I just wanna know why I'm so fucked up in the head.

#traumatic brain injury #tbi #seizures #brain damage #childhood traumatic brain injury #childhood tbi #idk what all to tag this as #long post #especially without wanting to clog people's dashes/the tags or make people see this who don't want to #this blog really is just turning into my place to ask sensitive questions that i don't know where to go with #and don't want people who know me to see #idk the thought just keeps floating around in my head #i know that mental health issues and chronic illness stuff can really mess with your mind but it's always felt... more?#but maybe that's just me wanting to be ~special~ or get those ~disability brownie points~ everyone likes to accuse people #with 'too much going on' of #fuckin pokémon catch em all nonsense but for reasons my body doesn't work

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coffinofconfections · 2 years

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TW; mention of abuse (not described), numbness, mild head injury description (not me), mention of family member getting surgery.

Acid reflux is back, although it's pretty bad. I know I have GERD and it's something that will happen from time to time, but it's pretty bad and hasn't gone away for at least three days now, if not longer. And it is painful like it used to be before I got stomach meds several years ago.

I hope it improves, but it's probably the stress and stuff that's been bad lately that's subconsciously bothering me. I haven't been able to process a lot of things, including the fact that I'm reacting differently, in a way, to trauma memories and recent stress. I think I'm just so scared of getting abandoned or hurt again, or making another mistake or hurting someone by accident, that I'm just straight up not processing shit and I'm going numb instead. [More under the cut]

Recently, mom had a serious head injury that resulted in her having to get her head stapled shut plus a huge black eye. She's recovering now, but last time she was here a few days ago, she was surprised at how good my glasses looked and wondered when I'd gotten them. The same exact glasses I've worn for years in front of her. They're hard to miss.

My grandma also recently had a serious head injury and mom showed me pictures of it, which disturbed me. They were in weird lighting with flash and it looked horrible, I don't know why she showed me them. Thankfully there was no blood in the photo.

I lost my case manager. He's changing positions to one he had his eye on, but I'd grown to like him and he's the nicest and most respectful one I've had. There is no replacement, as I've mentioned before. I'm scared, but I am also fighting the depression from a feeling of being abandoned again, of losing someone I felt so lucky to have. I don't think he can be friends with me, we had some stuff in common, but probably is forbidden. I'm really upset.

I'm still dealing with trauma dreams and trauma cycling in my head since the holidays started in November. I'm just not processing any of it.

When I was doing laundry a few days ago, it was after I'd been in a busy grocery store the day before. I have agoraphobia so it's already bad being out, but with fibromyalgia and not being in shape, my lungs were burning as I tried to hurry because my laundry took longer than usual and I didn't want to be an inconvenience. I almost broke down crying at the laundromat because everything was just coming together like a huge weight on my back.

Sitting here now, and last night too, even a few nights ago, I get the urge to cry. I think about my dad's health too, and how it's very poor after he survived several mini strokes a few years ago as well as a serious life saving surgery. No one knows how long he has left especially with emphysema.

It's hard to process because my parents were also abusive, my dad was very abusive in many ways that I couldn't process for a lot of years. (Won't go over it again, but it involves disturbing shit.) I struggle with their mortality and when they get really hurt because I can't process it. I had just decided, again, to try to go no-contact, and then mom gets the head injury right then.

I feel like I should have certain feelings that I don't. I should be worried. I should check on them. I should care more. But I feel nothing but the distress at wondering how to process a LACK of these things.

So, yeah. My GERD has flared up because the trauma from the end of 2020 likely made me too afraid to process things, because the last time I did, people took offense or I said something unclear or wrong and I lost a whole group of friends after they gaslit me and talked behind my back when I tried to apologize.

So now I just can't process anything and I've chosen to isolate because when I'm alone and by myself, with my head fam, I can't hurt anyone else or worry about someone taking my words out of context.

#venting #trauma #tw medical #tw abuse #cptsd #gerd #chronic illness

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blooming-violets · 2 years

Note

For the writing meme, a head cannon about Peter caring for the reader after the car accident fic would be cool :)

(Thank you for your writing!)

Soooooooo I started writing a headcanon bullet point version but then it turned in to a straight up tiny, angst fic instead. [writing meme]

[The Car Accident Fic]

He knew the call from May was coming any second now. He was already throwing himself through the city streets to his nearest stashed bag, webbed to a rooftop corner, to change back into his clothes. He had to get out of his suit. He could feel her blood seeping in through the fabric. She was clinging on to him. A part of her holding him close, never leaving him, even as he stripped himself from the suit, she stained his hands red.

It was as Peter was desperately trying to scrub her off his skin with a spare jacket tucked into his bag that his phone rang. This was it. This was what he was waiting for. He had to play it cool. He couldn’t let on that he already knew her fate. He couldn’t sound like a broken man.

Peter cleared his throat, the wind whistling in his ear as he stood on the edge of a skyscraper, and steadied his voice, “Hey, May. What’s up?”

He could hear the heartbreak in her voice and knew she had been crying.

“Peter, honey, I need to get down to the hospital as quickly as you can. There’s been an accident.”

---

Traumatic brain injury. Medically induced coma. Potential life long injuries. Unsure what her future will hold.

All phrases he didn’t want to hear or accept.

She was laying in front of him. She was right there. In her hospital gown with her head wrapped up and a large cast on her arm. A tube stuck down her throat, tape on her face, and wires hanging off the back of her hand. She was there. She was physically there but that was it. The girl he knew, the part of her that made her who she was, that part was gone. Her chest would rise and fall as the machine pumped air into her lungs but that was the only sign of movement.

Three days.

It took three days before he allowed himself to reach out and touch her.

He spent every waking hour by her side but he was too scared to ever make contact. He was terrified if he did that she would shatter into pieces or burst into flames if he gave himself permission to touch her. Touching her meant making it all real. If he reached for her hand and she didn’t flip her palm over to lock her fingers with his like always then he’d know she was lost to him. He couldn’t bear the thought of having to lose another one. People died around him. He was curse to anyone he got close to. She was the next victim to fall.

May would come in every morning to spend time with them. She would put on a smiling face, pull back the curtains to let in the sunlight, and wish her good morning. She talked to her as if she was awake.

“It helps people in comas to hear familiar voices of their loved ones, Peter. I hope you’re telling her stories of happy memories and keeping her company.”

He wasn’t.

He was doing nothing but sitting off to the side and staring at her face for hours until he fell asleep. If you could call it sleep. One second he would be conscious and then, the next, he would blink and hours would have passed. Then he’d do it all again the next day.

May would lead him in a daze to the bathroom every so often. She would bring him clothes every morning and pop in throughout the day to hold a water cup to his lips and force him to drink. Sometimes she would try to get him to eat but the food never stayed down. He could do nothing but sit and stare in silence. She might be the one in the coma but Peter was long gone with her.

Three days of silence before May snapped him out of it.

She strode into the room that evening and stood directly in front of him to block her sleeping face from his view. A panic began to rise in his chest as he scooted his chair to the side to see around her. She only side stepped to keep his sights blocked.

“Move,” he grunted as he tried to shove his aunt out of the way. He had to watch her. If he wasn’t watching her, something could happen.

“Oh, he speaks! How wonderful,” May’s voice was tight with heavy emotions. She was angry but trying to hold herself back to keep a level of calm for his sake. “It’s been three days since you said a word, Peter! The nurses tell me you don’t move from this chair unless I force you up. I can’t let this keep going. I’m not going to wait around and watch you fall into despair. Not again. I already did that once. I refuse to lose you to the darkness again, Peter.”

Lost to the darkness. That’s where she was right now. She was lost in the dark without him. He wanted to follow her. He wanted to crawl into her broken mind and curl up next to her bruised brain and hold her hand while they disappeared into nothing together.

“Peter!” May snapped her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention up to her. “You are not helping anyone like this! Look at her.” She stepped aside and held out her hands as if she was presented his broken girlfriend to him. “Do you see her right now? She is alive. She is not dead. She is in a medically induced coma. When the timing is right, the doctors will reverse that. She will wake up. Are you listening to me, Peter?” May stepped back in front of him to block his view once more and knelt down. She cupped his face in her cold hands, her eyes softening as her thumbs brushed away stray tears from his cheek. “She’s not dead, Peter. She’s not going to die. This isn’t like before. She needs you now more than ever. I believe coma patients can feel and hear. She needs you to talk to her. Tell her stories. Remind her of happy memories. Hold her hand. Kiss her cheek. Tell her how much you love her. She needs you. And I need you to be stronger. I can’t lose you again, Peter. She can’t lose you either. Don’t lose yourself in your thoughts. Stay here with us. Come back. Please.”

She pressed a long kiss to his forehead and pulled him in for a hug. He melted against her. He could feel the fog pulling back and, in it’s place, were broken feelings of guilt and hurt. Tears burned at his eyes.

“It’s okay,” May whispered in his ear, rubbing his back. “Let it out. That’s good. That’s what you need.”

Sobs racked his body. Three days worth of nothing but pure fear came pouring out. He clung onto his beloved Aunt like she was the only lifesaver in an ocean of guilt and heartbreak. She held him tightly while he cried. She whispered words of love and comfort into his ear. She kept him afloat until he was ready to swim on his own.

When May finally left for the night and the lights to the room were turned off, Peter dragged his chair closer to her side. He took a deep breath. His hand hovered over hers, hesitating for only a moment, before brushing fingers lightly over her skin. When she didn’t spontaneously combust, he gently took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

“Hey,” he whispered then cleared his throat to speak a little louder. “It’s me. It’s Peter. Peter Parker. You know, you’re boyfriend? Remember me? I’m...I’m sorry I haven’t been here. I mean, I’ve been here the whole time, but I don’t think you’d know that. I never said anything. I should have...I should have talked to you more. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you in there all alone. I hope you’re not lonely in there. I hope you don’t realize what’s going. I hope it feels just like you’re dreaming. A good dream. A happy one. I, uhm, I’m sorry. For everything. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I’m sorry it took me this long to hold your hand. I’m sorry I didn’t stop to talk to you when you were getting in that taxi. I’m sorry I was rude to you on the phone. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to wait for me so I could walk you home. They didn’t even need me in that train derailment. It was fine. Everyone was fine. It was you that needed me. You needed me and I wasn’t there. I’m sorry...”

He bowed his head as more hot tears slid down his face. He leaned over in his chair so he could push his forehead against the side of her bandaged head and whispered directly into her ear.

“I’m here now. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. I’m right here. Your Peter is here. I’m waiting for you. When they finally wake you up, I’ll be the first person you see. I promise. You’re going to be okay. The doctor’s said that we won’t know the extent of your brain injury until you wake up. But they don’t know you. I do. You’re going to be okay. Because you’re you. You’re my best girl who can fight through anything. Whatever happens when you wake up, I know you’ll kick its ass. You’re Spider-Man’s girlfriend. You’re the toughest girl in the entire city. And you still look beautiful even in a coma.”

Peter sniffled and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

“I love you. I’ll be here. Next to you. Forever.”

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman #andrew garfield #tasm andrew #tasm peter #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #fem!reader #car accident #car accident fic #blooming-violets #blooming violets #blooming violets fic

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wkemeup · 3 years

Text

Play Pretend (II)

summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first! gif by @crispychrissy

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.

Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.

It plagued him. It taunted him.

He wanted more.

He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.

They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.

Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.

It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.

But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.

Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.

He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.

***

“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”

Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.

“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.

“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”

“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”

Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.

“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”

Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”

“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.

***

Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?

It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.

The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.

Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.

He deserved that.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.

You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”

A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.

None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.

You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.

Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

“I’m being reassigned.”

You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.

“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.

“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”

It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.

“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”

“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”

Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”

“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.

Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.

“Was it something I did?”

Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.

“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”

Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”

The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.

“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”

Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.

“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”

He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?

But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.

Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.

“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”

You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.

“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.

“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”

Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.

“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”

He felt your hands squeeze his again.

“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.

“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but… but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”

He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.

“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”

Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.

Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.

Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.

“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.

“You’re wrong.”

The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”

Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.

He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”

“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”

Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.

“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.

“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.

“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”

Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.

“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.

You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.

“The same thing you are, I think.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”

Bucky nodded, a little stunned.

Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.

It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.

Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.

“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.

“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.

“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.

“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”

“I’m yours, sweetheart.”

A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.

His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.

Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.

“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”

“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.

It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.

With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.

Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.

You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.

He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.

Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.

Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.

“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.

“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.

��Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”

“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”

“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.

Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”

“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.

Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.

He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.

Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.

“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”

A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.

He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”

He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.

“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”

Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.

“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.

Perfectly content.

Warm. Safe.

Home.

---

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