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seenoversundown · 2 days ago

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Come Back For Me : Chapter Four

Danny Wagner x Melody (Fem OC)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (you know the drill- smut warnings will be last so you can skip if you'd like) Angst, Anxious Themes/Anxiety Attack, Dwelling on the past, Sam's opinion is LOUD, Bad Coping Techniques (giggle at Danny- don't take his advice on how to manage emotions, okay?) and a healthy dose of Mother Jake.

Smut Warnings: Oral (m receiving) Fingering, Unprotected penetrative sex (WRAP IT UP, FOLKS) The vibes are.. something.

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Danny spends the few days after discovering Mel's child trying to process how he's feeling and handling it.. sort of.

Author's Note: This is probably the most angsty thing I've written thus far and honestly, it was such a fun chapter to put together. 😈

Ghost Of You - 5 Seconds of Summer "If I can dream long enough, you'd tell me I'd be just fine, I'll be just fine."

The last two days have been hell.

I’ve been home, and the only thing on my mind is Mel.

She has a kid. Seeing her daughter perched up on her hip was never something I would have expected. It caught me off guard, to say the least. But, I don’t think I ever considered that being a thing that could happen, or the way it would make me feel seeing it.

She moved on. Like, actually moved on. She…got over me. We spent so many years together.. not including being friends.

I guess the idea of her moving on bothered me a little more than I anticipated. Or than I’d like to admit. It’s not my proudest moment, but seeing her holding her daughter felt like a kick to the stomach. There’s no denying that Iris is hers, she’s practically a copy and paste of her mom. She is a really cute kid.

I don’t think I could tell you the last full meal that I ate. Not that I don’t want to eat, but I keep feeling nauseous every time I go to eat. I’ve been forcing myself to eat little amounts at a time just to be safe, but it isn’t fun.

The other portion that hasn’t been fun– listening to Sam’s opinion on the situation.

Unfortunately for Sam, he was my emotional support when Mel and I broke up. So this whole situation isn’t sitting with him in the best way, which I suppose I can’t blame him after listening to me bitch and moan for months about how I missed her.

He’s simultaneously convinced that I’ve never actually moved on because none of my dates have worked out, and while I think he may not be completely wrong, I don’t think that’s why they end poorly. I just haven’t found girls who pique my interest enough to keep them around.

But having the situation happen moments before Sam witnessed it makes it worse. I am personally still trying to process what happened while having to listen to everything thought and opinion that he has– whether I want to hear it. That’s what friends do for each other, I guess.

“You know what else pisses me off?” Sam’s voice rings through the speakers of my phone. “The fact that she clearly got knocked up right away.”

Attempting to play devil’s advocate for some reason, I let out quietly, “I mean, she said her daughter was three, so maybe it wasn’t right away.”

“Still though,” He wasn’t having any of that; he never does. “You guys were together for so long. I figured she would be a little more torn up over you, but maybe she was already on her way out of the relationship before then.”

The latter part of his complaint sends a pain through my chest, knowing that pain is coming through in my voice, “Ouch?”

“Oh shit, sorry,” He quickly says before following it up with more complaining. “It just makes me cranky that she would waltz back into our lives like nothing happened.” I can picture him just pacing the apartment with Penny following him around.

My arm is slung over my eyes at this point; the entire situation is just stressful, and I don’t want to write her off immediately. I tell him, “I don’t know if that was necessarily her plan either, though, Sam.”

“Well.. still. I don’t know, I just..” His voice lowers finally; the pause of him contemplating what to say is daunting when he says, “Seeing her just reminded me of everything, and..” Letting out an exasperated groan, I can feel his frustration just in the tone of his voice.

“Yeah.. it’s a lot.”

It’s quiet for a minute when he pipes up, “You have to be annoyed. There’s no chance that you aren’t a little mad.”

“I don’t really know how I feel if we’re being honest,” I tell him. “I want to say that I’m not a little bothered by it, but I don’t think I can really do that either.”

He asks, “Is it Melody, or is it her daughter?”

“I’m not sure of that part.”

“You’re not giving me much to work with, big dog,” he chuckles. “I know it’s been a while since we talked about that one incident, you know, when-Mel-royally-fucking-sucked-and-kind-of-ruined-your-life.”

I breathe out a sigh, “Yeah, I was kind of enjoying not talking about it anymore.”

“I just think it was fucked up that–” he starts again, but I finally snap.

I sit up on my couch instantly, cutting him off with a blunt, “Sam– I get it.”

“Sorry, I just hate that she hurt you,” his voice is small in the moment. I rarely get direct with him like that, but I just can’t listen to it anymore.

It’s how a lot of these conversations go; Sam gets riled up, and I get overwhelmed. It’s not that I don’t appreciate him for being there for me, but sometimes I feel like he forgets that I was in the situation that he’s going on about. Which truth be told, I’ve never really said what happened to him.. Mostly out of not wanting to talk about it.

“No, it’s okay,” I breathe out. “It’s just like I’m reliving the past and I think I need to just focus on something else.”

He takes the hint, telling me about some shoots he has planned for work and going on about a shoot that he helped Willa with. Arguably, I didn’t mind hearing about it today– anything to keep my mind busy, really. He did manage to convince me to go grab some food with him and told me that I could have Penny for the weekend, which at least gave me something positive to look forward to.

Once I was home for the night, I found myself laying back on my couch for the tenth time today because I didn’t know what else to do with myself at this point. I closed my eyes, and all I could see was the moment I walked into the bar, and she was there. She’s still as beautiful as ever.

But after the conversation I just had, the moment of Sam seeing her slowly starts to replace it. The way my stomach churned when I heard his voice, knowing that the metaphorical band-aid was about to get ripped off. The stare between the two of them could kill a man.

When he finally opened his mouth, all he said was, “Oh.” My eyes fell shut at the sound of it, knowing there was really nothing to be done to save it. Even Josh was silent, which is saying something.

“Nice to see you too, Sam,” is all she said before she left. Which I can’t deny– it was probably the best way to handle him.

He’s developed quite a strong opinion against her, and I don’t foresee much being able to change that. I know ever since we broke up, I haven’t been able to get him to say much other than telling her to ‘fuck off’ basically. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

***

“Hi, baby,” I let out, leaning down to kiss her lips. The look in her eyes as she stared up at me. “How are my girls doing?”

“We’re hanging in there,” she breathes out, the smile still on her lips regardless of being exhausted. Leaning down and pressing my lips against the tiny forehead of the sleeping baby girl in her arms. “She tired herself out, so we’re napping.. apparently.”

“I’ll take her if you have things to do,” I tell her.

She giggles softly, “I do need to pee, actually.”

Scooping up the sweet girl from her, letting Mel escape off to the bathroom.

“Hi baby girl,” whispering against her cheek, pressing a few small kisses into her. I sink into the couch carefully; she quietly readjusts herself to get more comfortable. Tucked her face into my chest. My heart swelled at the sight; nothing compares to the feeling.

It feels like seconds, but Melody walks back into the room, glancing over to us, before signing, ‘You love snuggling, dad?’

Feeling the little nugget in my arms nodding with a small giggle coming from her. I squeeze her tighter before tapping my fingers against her back to know that I’m signing ‘i love you’ to her. Her hand popped out in front of us, saying, ‘I love you.’ Waving it frantically around, making the both of us laugh.

Lifting her up and blowing raspberries against her belly, listening to the sweet sounds of her laughing. The feeling of her little hands grabbing at my hair, trying to get me to stop, but we’re too busy giggling.

She lies across my lap, trying to recover from laughing as Mel walks back over, smiling at the two of us. Sitting next to me, I feel her lips press into my cheek, leaning her body into me.

‘Having fun with Dad?’ met with a big smile.

She looks over at me; the look in her eyes makes me melt.

“Are you having fun too, daddy?” She asks, her voice faint, but the sound of ‘daddy’ echoes in my mind.

***

Abruptly, my eyes open wide, sitting up from the couch. I’m drenched in sweat.

What the fuck was that? My heart is racing as I sit here, breathing heavily as I try to process whatever just happened. I don’t even know why I would be dreaming about .. that. I tap my phone, 11:49 p.m.

When did I fall asleep? My TV is just rotating through the different skylines, and it’s dead silent in the apartment. I lay back on the couch, throwing an arm over my eyes and letting out a deep breath. Jesus Christ.

I could go to the bar, but I don’t think I want to be at work. They’ll somehow know something happened. Even just a dream. I swear Josh can sniff that shit out.

I pull my phone out and do the only thing that I know will distract me from whatever my brain is trying to trick me into.

Me: what are you doing

Blonde from Hinge: idk why 😏

Me: come over?

Surely, this will help. I lie there on my couch until she shows up, just trying to scroll mindlessly on Instagram to avoid thinking about the dream. It’s only about ten minutes until the notification pops up.

Blonde from Hinge: i’m here

Practically leaping up, I grab my door, pulling it open to her; she looks eager and ready. Perfect.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

That’s about all we managed before she slung her arms around my neck, planting her lips on mine. The kiss was heated. I hold the back of her neck tight; she has to tilt her head back a fair amount to reach me.

Stumbling back into my apartment, never detaching from the kiss, I slowly guide her to the living room. I fall back into the couch, and she’s quick to straddle my lap. Her chest already heaving just from making out, so I slip my hands under her hoodie. Feeling her skin as my hands slowly crept up her body. No bra? Sick.

“Take this off,” I tell her mid-kiss. Her hands flew down to pull it off.

Though they were smaller, the way her tits bounced when she did it made my mouth water. I didn’t have to do anything yet, and her nipples were already screaming for my attention. Cupping both of her tits with my hands, my mouth quickly made contact with one, wrapping my lips around her as she whines. Rubbing the pad of my thumb over the other one as I kiss and lick at this one.

Listening to her litter the air with moans just from that, I know I have her in the palm of my hand already. I can feel my cock twitch against her as her hips press into me.

Slipping one of my hands into her leggings, no panties either? She knew what I wanted. My fingers ran across her cunt, slick as hell.

“So wet for me already, aren’t you, Sugar?” I taunt her a bit.

She writhes against my fingers, moaning out, “Want your dick so bad.”

“On your knees,” I murmur in her ear, letting my fingers barely slip into her but pulling them back. Gently clapping my hand against her cunt and whispering, “Then I’ll fuck you.”

She drops to her knees in front of me, pulling her blonde hair up into a ponytail as I’m sliding my sweats down my thighs. Taking no time, she’s got her lips wrapped around me. My head tilts back, closing my eyes and just enjoying the feeling until I find myself wishing that it was Melody instead. You’re getting head from a girl who wants to ride you until the sun comes up. Stop thinking about Mel. Feeling myself hit the back of her throat a few times before she comes up for air and lets out a little cough.

I sit up, leaning forward and grabbing her waist to pick her up. Pulling her onto the couch, I slide her leggings down, just past her ass, before grabbing both of her ankles with one hand and pushing them up. I run my fingers down the center of her before plunging my middle finger into her. Pumping hard and fast, listening to the wet sounds coming from her already, not to mention the whines slipping out of her mouth. My ring finger joining, as she yelps at the stretch before I start pressing into the one spot. My thumb finds her clit, rubbing it as fast as I can.

“Please, please, oh my god,” she whines loudly. I start pumping my fingers into her fast, grazing that spot over and over, trying to hit it every time and being rewarded with a loud ‘Yes, that’s it!’

My other hand came down to frantically rub her clit until she finally comes for me. If my neighbors didn’t know what was going on, they sure as fuck do now. Pulling my fingers from her but giving her a couple of pats against her cunt, still throbbing from her orgasm.

“Spread ‘em,” I tell her as she pulls her leggings the rest of the way off, and her legs fall apart. My hand is still covered with her come, stroking myself a few times before I drag my cock down her before pushing in. The way she’s falling apart, you would think she didn’t just come.

My hips relentlessly pound into her while my hands find their way up to her tits again, teasing her. Little groans start to fall from my mouth. Mel, my hips snapping out of rhythm at the thought. God, she was always so sexy. Mel, please– my thoughts betray me. I shake my head staring down at this girl giving me the performance of a lifetime.

It only takes a few minutes before I’m pulling out and stroking myself over her stomach; she leans up so everything lands on her tits; she’s really trying, and I have to commend her for that. Gesturing to her to hold on for a minute, I run off to the bathroom, quickly grabbing a towel and bringing it back to her.

“Here,” I hold it out for her. “I’m gonna–” pointing back to the bathroom as she just nods and starts cleaning herself off.

I shut the door behind me, flipped the light on, and stared at myself in the mirror. What is going on? The longer I stare at myself, the more conflicted I feel. The water flows from the sink, helping to muffle the voice in my head, but certainly not enough. Why are you avoiding the inevitable? Was this girl worth it? Do you feel better about yourself now? Shaking my head a few times, looking down to wash my hands.

It’s only a few minutes that I’m in there, but when I come back out into the living room, she’s gone. Well, I guess I can’t blame her. Tapping my phone screen to see the 2:16 a.m. staring back at me, I grab it off the coffee table and wander off to my bed.

Slipping into the cold sheets, I lay there scrolling through Instagram for a minute before locking my phone and setting it next to me. I lie there in the dark, feeling very alone; my chest feels heavy as I just replay the events of the last few days in my head like a movie.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Later the next day..

The moment I stepped over the threshold, something felt wrong.

I take a few steps into the bar, pausing in the same spot I did days ago when I ran into Mel and her daughter. My hand grabs the back of a chair as I stand here, feeling frozen as I can hear her voice playing in my head.

“This is Iris, my daughter.”

My stomach turns as it plays in my head. Seeing her standing there, her daughter who looks like a baby version of her, staring at me.

“I think she likes your hair.”

The curls. She practically could be my child with how she looks.

“She’s being shy today.”

Nothing would have prepared me to see Melody as a mom, especially after us being no contact for so long. Did she move on that fast? She would have had to get pregnant ..

“Oh god,” slips out quietly. My blood is pumping through my body aggressively; I feel a weird chill run down my neck, and my ears start to feel hot. She.. she had a child. The nausea only gets stronger as my thoughts get louder; my mouth starts watering. I can see the look on her face in my mind, the feeling as we just stared at each other. Melody.

I don’t know if my eyes were shut or if my sight was a little fuzzy, but I felt someone grab my arm.

“Hey— you okay?” Jake’s voice sounds muffled but concerned.

I shake my head, whispering, “I’m gonna pass out.”

“Shit,” he lets out. “Come on— I got ya.”

He grips my arm, letting me lean into him a little, walking me– more of a stumble on my part, into his office and helping me sit down. My whole body just feels sticky from sweat. I lean my head back and close my eyes for a minute.

“Here,” Jake’s voice sounded clear this time. My eyes open to him holding out a bottle of water. As I’m sipping on it, Josh walks in quickly.

“Tilt your head up,” he mutters, placing a cold towel over the nape of my neck. “That should help.” He scurried out of the room about as quickly as he did in.

It’s quiet for a minute as I just try to drink some more of the water. I can feel my heart still racing, but the desire to puke is going away.

The sound of Jake clearing his throat breaks the silence.

“Do you wanna talk about what just happened or..?”

I just stare at him for a second, unsure of what to even say. I choke out, “I don’t know.”

He folds his arms over his chest as he leans against the door frame. He quietly says, “You looked like you saw a ghost.”

I feel like I did.

My jaw clenches before finally letting out, “I just–”

The slow blink from him said enough. My eyes dart to the floor, just trying to sort out how I’m feeling.

“I’ve felt off for days now,” I confess quietly.

He doesn’t say anything right away but moves to shut the door carefully. Turning back to me and asking, “Is it Mel-related?”

“No,” I spit out, sounding hesitant and then being more honest, “..okay maybe.”

The sigh coming from him says everything, but he mumbles out, “I wouldn’t blame you if it fucked with you a little.”

My eyes shot up to meet his.

“Wait.. Really?”

“I mean, the girl you spent years with and were in love with just shows up here with a child– I think anybody would feel a bit blindsided,” he tells me, and it’s oddly comforting. I guess I can’t be too shocked that out of the three brothers, Jake would be the one who gets this.

I breathe out, “Yeah..it’s just..”

He just waits for me to finish my thought.

“She moved on so fast?” I let out. It’s still hard for my brain to wrap around the idea that she went and had a child that quickly.

“But, maybe she didn’t?” His voice was getting a little lower. “It could have been an accident for all we know.”

My heart pounds at the thought of someone getting her pregnant by mistake; my teeth clench, trying to harness some of the anger that just surged through my body.

Jake distracting me from my own feelings for a second, “Do you think that maybe.. you still have feelings for her?” He pauses for a moment but adds, “And that’s why this is hitting you so hard?”

My thoughts are racing as I sit here. Do I still..? No. I can’t. It’s been years. I’m fine. The weird, tense silence in the air as he waits for my response, that I don’t even know if I’m fully sure of.

“I don’t know.. I mean.. Maybe?” I stumble over my words, and my head shakes a few times at the thought. “I don’t feel like I do.. I go on dates all the time.”

“Not to be that person, but how does that usually work out for you?” he asks, which is a fair question despite the fact I don’t want to answer it.

Letting out a sigh before I tell him, “Not great.”

“And why’s that?”

The answer is instantly clear to me. I think I subconsciously always knew but denied myself because I wanted so badly for it not to be the truth. I guess because the only time I ever thought about it was in defense of why I wasn’t going to call a girl back or why I didn’t think the girl would work out.

Jake’s hand grabs my shoulder gently as he looks at me, mumbling, “Your secret is safe with me.”

I breathe in slowly as I move my eyes to the floor in front of me, and on the exhale, the truth finally seeps out. “They aren’t Melody.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Chapter Three

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Taglist:

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@literal-dead-leaf @lizzys-sunflower @mackalah

@klarxtr @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @i-love-gvf @takenbythemadness

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@nicoleghost18 @monkeylaura627 @fleetingjake

@cheersdannyx2

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dovoodles · 21 days ago

Text

Vivit Characters if they had Letterboxd

by suggestion of a friend, because I put too much effort and wanted to post this

ASH: Super fucking dumb reviews. Makes hyperspecific lists (i.e. the shrek and get out one) and reviews based on how funny it'd be. Sometimes shes seen it. Sometimes she hasn't.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆: Justice for the grinch, to be honest. He's literally just an anticapitalist victim of racism raised by two lesbian moms. He did nothing wrong.

☆: The only part I liked was when Morbius said its morbin time and morbed all over the place

MACK: RELIGIOUSLY leaves reviews for everything he's seen. He's super positive about every film, always seeing the strengths even when he doesn't like it. They're always super detailed too, usually a paragraph or two in length. All his reviews scale from 3 stars to 5. Only one movie has ever been given a one star review.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆: I think this is my favorite film of the year :D To start off with the positives, the choreography for the dance scenes was very fun to watch and ... [read more]

☆: I can tell the writers tried to make this really informative! I'm not sure what their sources were, as everything is categorically wrong, but they tried! Here are links to every article that debunks this :o) ... [read more]

NERVA: Only leaves reviews for her hallmark binges. Her litmus scale is based on quality in relation to other hallmark films, and puts a note before every review that in relation to any other film, they would garner two stars at most, zero if it were possible.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆: Surprised me. A hallmark movie has not done that since 2063. It was interesting she stayed with her New York City Boyfriend. Unexpected.

☆: Another copy-and-paste plot. The third act misunderstanding occurs at one hour and thirty-five minutes, as it does with every movie. The kiss happens twenty-six minutes later: A minute more than usual. This means I had to sit through an extra minute of this movie. Oh well.

SAMUEL: Only really updates it to say he has a letterboxd. Posts a review every so often when watching a film he enjoys, spending most of it rambling about his personal analysis than anything else. Oftentimes surprisingly good though.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆: Another masterpiece from this director as always. No surprise there; with his nihilistic worldview, the character study of ... [read more]

☆: I came with an open mind. Regrettably, I'm disappointed. My child encouraged me to watch this, and though the low age demographic was a warning sign in itself, this truly exceeded my expectations in the worst way possible. To present this sorry excuse for a "story" to young impressionable minds ... [read more]

VIDA: Posts a review for every single movie they watch, and there's a lot. Like, one a week, at least. They post full essay length reviews, broken down into sections. They've got it down by a science. They also regularly make organizational lists based on tone or situational enjoyment. They have more 1 and 2 star reviews than not. They've unknowingly posted Mack's reviews off site to bully the shit out of them. Their meanest reviews are towards cliché "classical" movies, because that's what Samuel made them watch.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆: Alright, let's not beat around the bush: This thing is great. I know everyone's like, "blah blah blah, this was going to be terrible" — but they were wrong, so eat shit. As always, we're dividing this between cinematography, writing, acting ... [read more]

☆: That's it. No fancy formatting because what the hell is this. I genuinely think the person who told me to watch this hates me, because if you enjoy THIS, you're braindead. Objectively braindead. Anyways, I want to meet who worked on the color grading for this so badly, because I am convinced they're COLOR-BLIND. Actually, is that offensive? Because color-blind people can still see values, right? And god, there is NO contrast in this garbage ... [read more]

AMATUS: Only gets into it because Vida suggested it. He has a lot of thoughts on films, but he prefers verbalizing them anyways. He doesn't care to influence peoples opinions much on this front, so he really just leaves objective reviews that are fairly short. Sometimes he does leave monster reviews if no one will entertain his thoughts, but thats few and far between (because Vida keeps goading him into rants always). Loves reviewing indie, arthouse films the most.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆: This was enjoyable for both me and the group I watched this with :) If you're looking for a lighthearted comedy, I would highly reccomend.

☆: I think I was the wrong audience for this. I'm not sure who this movie is for, in that case, but maybe it's someone... Probably not.

#txt #i like to play touys with my ocs

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nonchalantee · 2 years ago

Note

small perspective flip for any scene of your choice in not strong or brave but a secret third thing if you feel like it! thanks love the fic!

ooo this one is kinda tough actually since that fic has 4 main povs already but HMM lolol in the spirit of chaos, let's go with a donato bro. gelly at dan's congrats! you're a captain! party:

Angelo:

"You can't show up empty-handed," his mom grouses at him over the line while Gelly is busy pouring terrible cop breakroom coffee.

"I'll bring him flowers," Gelly says, rolling his eyes.

"Buck?"

"Huh? Why would I bring Buck flowers? The party is for Dan, right?"

His mom huffs an exasperated sigh. "Gelly-"

"I could have sworn Lu said Dan was the one who was getting the promotion."

"He is," his mom says. "But, listen, Captain Nash is very important to Buck. You need to make a good impression on him, understand? Bring something for the table. Like a charcuterie board or something."

"I'll be late if I stop to do that," Gelly says patiently. He gulps his coffee down in three large swallows, too hot, and sags slightly against his desk. Another 20 minutes left on shift, quick home to change and psych himself up for a social event filled with mostly strangers, then driving over to the directions Lucy gave him. He's the only brother without kids, and one of the only ones left without even a partner, which means he gets to be the official Family Presence for celebration events like this.

"Angelo Lucian Donato, I am trying to give you important advice."

Gelly winces. Full named, okay. "Fine, fine," he says. "I'll get a board from the supermarket, happy? Though I doubt being late will make any better impression than showing up with food."

A brief pause, then, "No, you're right." Before Gelly can say anything to that, his mom adds, "I'll get it for you. Is it better for me to drop it off at work or at home?"

"Ma... what's going on? This is kinda, uh, not normal behavior from you."

"Just trust me," she says, brisk. "Home or work?"

"Home," Gelly answers, giving up.

Everyone in the family always talked about Gelly and Lucy like they were copies of one another. They had the same approach to people and situations. They even looked the most alike out of all the kids. Gelly had had his own post-graduation wild child phase that had pioneered the path for Lucy, years later, to spend a few years surfing and working odd jobs without the family freaking out overmuch; they were the two perpetually singles at every family function. Then Dan showed up and became Lucy's steady plus one, but Gelly honestly thought that was all they were ever going to be.

He knew Daniel Buckley pretty well. He even more or less liked Daniel Buckley. Dan was an unquestionably great guy, and he looked at Lucy like she hung the stars in the sky, so Gelly didn't actually have any kind of objection to the man. But Gelly also never thought they were on track for marriage. He thought Lucy was like him in this way the way she was like him in almost every other way: that she liked herself, liked her life, too much to lock it in step with anyone else's. Make herself beholden to someone else, someone not family.

Her getting married a few months ago threw Gelly for a loop because, for maybe the first time, he started looking at his life and thinking Is this where I'm supposed to be? It was maybe more introspection than he ever really gave himself in the past, and it led to some recent dating misadventures as he attempted to also find his forever someone to settle down with. He hadn't thought anyone had really noticed, but he'd forgotten a key piece of information, which was: Marian Donato.

She's waiting for him in his kitchen, having let herself into his apartment with her key, busy at work transferring a grocery store charcuterie board onto a nice tray. She's frowning a little bit in concentration and barely looks up when Gelly walks in, only paying enough attention to him to ask, "Do you want some coffee before you get going?"

Rather than say anything else, Gelly just responds, "Sure, Ma, that would be great."

She gives him approval he doesn't ask for over the outfit he changes into, then messes with his hair till he bats her hands away; then presses his travel mug into one hand and pushes the charcuterie tray into his chest with the other, frowning as she looks him over.

"Maybe you should bring some flowers," she frets.

"For who...?"

"Captain Nash's wife, obviously. I hear she's also important to Buck."

"Okay." Gelly puts both the tray and the coffee down on the counter, then faces his mom. "Explain."

She huffs an impatient breath. "I just want you to make a good impression."

"Uh-huh. Explain in more detail, now."

"Dan was basically an orphan when Lucy brought him home. We didn't have to appease any family. It's not going to be so easy with Buck-"

"Okay, that's too many times you have mentioned Buck today. What's going on, Mom? For real."

She gives him an exasperated glare. "You're looking to settle down," she says, a statement and not a question. Gelly inclines his head, because he knows better than to lie to his mom. She says, "Right now, you're dating your way through everyone you avoided when you were just being casual."

"Okay, how do you know that?"

"I am very observant," she says. "Which is how I know that in about three more weeks, probably after Lucy and Dan drag Buck to family dinner, you're going to look at him and think of him as an option. Because right now everyone is an option. And I am here to tell you, Buck is an excellent option."

Gelly stares at her, brow raised. "Ma, this sounds kinda crazy." Buck is a great kid - he was an amazing partner to Lucy, and Gelly is honestly upset that she's going to lose that in the station transfer - but Buck is almost a decade younger than Gelly and Lucy would kill him, besides. And then Dan would make sure his corpse was desecrated beyond recognition. The guy has a protective streak that Gelly, as a fellow big brother, can see from space.

"I'm just keeping you from stumbling before you even start to race," his mom says. She picks his mug back up and pushes it back towards him. "I'll carry the tray. Come on, we've got to get you going. You can't be late. First impressions! You're meeting the two people Buck thinks of as parents, here."

"Oh, my god," Gelly mumbles, and dutifully follows her out the door.

The Grant-Nashes have a pretty swank house, not ostentatious, but classy and warm. It looks like something that would be featured in an architectural magazine of one kind or another. Captain Nash and Sergeant Grant greet him together at the door, and recognize him by name when he introduces himself.

"Angelo, of course, welcome," Athena says, a delighted smile on her face. It even looks authentic. "Please come in. Lucy and Dan are out in the yard - I think they're trying to get the barbecue going."

"As if we didn't already have enough food," Bobby says indulgently. "Though, of course, more is always welcome." He takes the charcuterie tray out of Gelly's hands with a genuine seeming, "This looks great!" while leading Gelly into the kitchen/living room area.

"My mom always says to not show up empty handed," Gelly says. In fact, she'd said it as she closed his car door on him, glowering at him in maternal bossiness.

"Marian is her own brand of terrifying," Buck chimes in, rising from a crouched position in the kitchen. Gelly had entirely missed him on first view: he takes Buck in now.

He's of a height with Gelly, which not many men can claim, though they both fall a little short of Dan's own giant frame. He's big, thanks to all of the functional muscle that firefighters put on, and it looks good on him. He wears it glowingly well, all health and rosy cheeks, bright eyes, big smile.

"You're her favorite, you know nothing of how scary she can actually be," Gelly says, and watches Buck's eyes crinkle in a happy, teasing grin. "Hey, Buck."

"Gelly, hey," Buck says, and takes the few steps forward necessary to bring him within half-hug territory. His arms are huge around Gelly, solid, strong. Gelly claps him on his broad, muscled back, and feels their chests make full contact. This close, he can tell that Buck even smells good - light cologne, more like an afterthought, melding into the base notes of his own personal scent. Gelly squeezes him tighter for a second, feels Buck squeeze him a bit in return, and finds he doesn't actually want to let go.

But it would be weird to not let go.

Buck stays with him and introduces him around to the others who have already arrived - Gelly's met Maddie Buckley before, but not often, and she is even more pregnant now than she was a few months ago. Like, Gelly's pretty sure she's about to pop any second, level of pregnant. Hen and Karen Wilson are fun, and the assorted first responders from the 147 are vaguely familiar in that Gelly has either met them once or twice through Lucy or seen them at some kind of emergency. He banters a bit with them before swooping in on Lucy and Dan, still out on the patio, still hovering over a stubbornly unlit grill.

Gelly smacks a congratulatory kiss to Dan's cheek, channeling his Nonna's spirit to really sell the celebratory ambience, and tells his brother-in-law congratulations.

"Thanks," Dan says, dry. "Do you know how to work this thing?"

"I'm sure we can figure it out," Gelly says magnanimously. But he finds that, even while he's standing with them, ostensibly making some kind of helpful conversation, his gaze is unerringly drawn through the glass doors, finding Buck. Hmmm. Buck looks good in a crowd. People gravitate toward him. He smiles big, he laughs big, he emotes joy with his whole body. He's louder than Dan, but he's not abrasive. He's just... a sweet guy. A really sweet, nice guy. Gelly already knows his family loves Buck. Gelly was not actually kidding when he called Buck Marian's favorite. And Buck is already 'Uncle Buck' to an entire generation of Donatos. Hmmm. A sweet, nice, young guy.

But age gap romances work out. They work out all the time. It's not like either one of them is actually a kid; they're both adults.

Buck is, uh, very adult. Gelly watches him bend down to give Maddie a hand in standing - watches Buck's forearm muscles flex, the way he instinctively braces her and makes sure she has her balance. She says something that makes him laugh and hmmm. He looks good all the time but he looks even better when he's laughing.

Gelly probably looks weird right now with how he's staring without blinking, but... what was that his mom had said again? Buck is an excellent option. She's biased, obviously, but she's not wrong.

He lands himself back by Buck's side, them crowded together as more people arrive. Buck absentmindedly wraps a friendly arm around Gelly's shoulders. He's strong enough that he doesn't even seem to notice when Gelly leans into him; Buck just shifts his weight slightly to brace for it. The first true spark of attraction starts to burn in Gelly at that reaction; he's not sure why that's the thing that does it - maybe the easy strength, maybe the unthinkingly generous responsiveness, maybe just something ineffable altogether. But the attraction is here and it's real and Gelly already feels it starting to grow.

Okay, Gelly thinks. He's not sure what he's agreeing to - maybe to his mom, maybe to the universe, for putting Buck right in front of him. There's a symmetry to it. He and Lucy always doing the same thing. On multiple levels, the idea of this just feels right.

Maybe it's ironic that he's thinking this just as the prickles start needling up and down his spine. Gelly's gaze snaps up, and he casts looks around, trying to figure out what triggered his fight or flight reflex.

Lucy, still by the barbecue, still next to Dan, but staring straight at him. A small frown on her face. The slight widening of her eyes as her eyes shift, micro-expression style, from Gelly to Buck and back again. Hostile suspicion dawning in her gaze. Gelly shifts ever so slightly closer to Buck and watches his little sister's eyes narrow.

He slowly, deliberately, wraps his arm around Buck's waist. Lucy shakes her head at him, very slowly, mouthing an emphatic No. But Gelly is feeling the smug certainty of every sibling who has their mom on their side, as he gives Lucy a slow smile back.

#the dan fic #outtake #thank u for the ask!#i'm glad u like the fic <3 #and LOL i wrote this scene knowing gelly is not rly gonna be a part of the fic #just u know #bit part in some scenes for ~flavor #tbh the donato brother i'm rooting for #if we go for a buckley boys sweep #is tony donato #he's an underdog but he's got cute kids #but gelly is fun and marian is even more fun #so have this oc pov ig #hope it was enjoyable

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creampie-capital · 2 years ago

Text

✦「Katsuki Bakugo x Reader」✦

ɴᴀᴍᴇ║ Katsuki Bakugo

ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ/ᴍᴀɴɢᴀ║ Boku no Hero Academia

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ║17,325

ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ║June 27th, 2017

ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ║Febuary 27, 2022

「ᴀꜰʟ」 𝟏𝟖+ 「ᴘᴡᴘ」 ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ━━━➤ 「ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ」

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

❝ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ.❞

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

This story deals intensely with grief and trauma. If you are unable to understand the complexity of those emotions, you shouldn't be here.

Don't be so hypocritical; the same thing the reader does are the same thing your favorite villain has committed.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Do not steal, copy, or repost anywhere. My work is currently on both CREAMPIE_CAPITAL on wattpad and Imtropicalbaby on Quotev. If posted on another account or website, please report and notify me immediately.

Now onto the smut :)

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"It's so loud!"

Your daughter's lips couldn't have been any wider. Her pudgy hands grasped yours firmly while she watched the Hero parade.

She rocked on the balls of her feet, her lily-hued skirt swishing past her frame. Nadine loved that skirt so much when you bought it for her most recent birthday, her eighth one.

The child proudly claimed that she looked like a princess and declared that her father was the dragon that protected her from all the 'nonsense extras.

Of course, she quickly followed after with her words by leaping onto your husband's back and tugging on his hair, almost reeling him up like a horse.

Let's just say some family heirlooms were broken and shattered that night.

Nadine tugged on your hand and pointed over at her 'uncle', Izuku. "Look! He looks so cool up there! Wasn't daddy supposed to meet us here to laugh at uncle!"

Before you could answer, you turned to a man who pushed you roughly, which yielded you to almost trip over if you didn't catch yourself.

You gave him a stank face, a sneer on your lips, and a glare in your sharp eyes. "Mom?" The eight-year-old called.

Taking a deep breath, you blew air out of your nose and turned back to your daughter. "It's because your dad's a grump."

"But he promised." She whined, her vermillion-hued optics staring up into yours. The only attribute she gained from her father other than a bit of his personality.

You kneeled down, thankful for the crowd that dispersed outwards, which gave you both more personal space.

"Well, your father said he was really tired and that he'll make it up two us."

What he really said was, 'I'm f*cking exhausted, so just let me sleep, or I'll make you just as drained.'

Of course, you knew he never gave empty threats, and since you didn't want to ruin your child's wish to go out at all, you left him alone in your bedroom.

That didn't mean you weren't upset about his answer. Yes, he had been working a lot lately, leaving early and coming home late.

Wickedness doesn't stop for anyone, so even on days off, he still had to work if a situation arose. Which meant Katsuki missed a lot of important days and broke a lot of his promises.

A lot of his promises to where they always became empty wishes.

You both had begged him to come to watch the parade, you even had something really important to inform him of, but he refused.

He'd rather sleep than at least keep one promise in god knows how long. Your husband definitely has some making-up to do.

Nadine huffed and swatted at her bangs, which were rather long. You reached out and felt her (h/c) bangs between your fingers.

"When we get home, we'll cut them, Okay?"

"Okay."

A smile graced your lips as you stood back to your feet and dusted your knees off. The parade continued, looping around the capital, so you at least noticed your husband's friends a few times.

It was coming to an end, the symphony at their climax that you could feel its lightness in your chest. Yea, you didn't just want to come because Nadine wanted to.

You closed your eyes while holding your daughter's hand tightly. The music, the cheers, and joyful cries fluttered through your head in an almost ethereal manner.

"Mom!"

Your (e/c) optics shot opened only for you to gasp at the sight. "Oh my god!"

The platforms the heroes were on had burst into flames and quickly spread across the streets. The lively symphony halted; festive cheers turned into horrified cries.

A vociferous explosion ran through the area; the buildings alongside the road broke from their formation and began to rain down on everyone below.

The lightness in your chest never left as the pleasure you felt before was replaced with terror. Swiftly you yanked Nadine into your chest, a chunk of the building landing in the spot your daughter was just standing in.

"Nadine, we-"

You were cut short when another explosion rang, the statue in the middle of where the parade was driving around combusted, erupting everything into flames.

It was as if the asphalt was soaked with fuel the way it burned so easily. It inched towards the two of you at a threatening rate.

The way your throat closed and sweat dripped down the back of your neck was a feeling like no other. Absolute terror dug its wicked claws into every nerve and punctured your heart with trepidation.

"Let's go!"

You finally found your voice when the screams of pain sounded as if they were on the heels of your feet. Your grip tightened on your daughter's hand as the two of you pushed through the ravaged crowd.

Nadine's smaller frame easily weaved through the smaller spaces between the massive wave of bodies. The eight-year-old lugged you along, using her quirk to blast through some rubble to leave an opening.

However, even with her power, it wasn't enough to rush you both forward, and the two of you were quickly separated.

"Nadine!"

Your scream was drowned out by all the others. People dressed eccentrically; recognizable figures rained down from above.

Some headed straight for the heroes, howling like rabid animals, while some entered the large crowd of civilians.

The absolute chaos of what was once a beautiful moment was horrifying. Civilians were being burned alive, the stench of scorching flesh almost causing you to gag.

Its putrid scent was enough to make you purge everything that was within your stomach if it wasn't for Nadine's scream breaking through the cries.

You may not have had powers like your husband and daughter, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins was enough for you to find some hidden strength.

The way you rushed forward knocked others over, some immediately becoming trapped underneath the other civilians that attempted to get away.

The guilt would have overtaken your mind, but you were far from sane thinking. Nadine...Where was Nadine? Where was your daughter?

"Mommy-Ack!"

"Nadine!"

Your voice cracked from your scream, scrapes, and cuts ripping ripped through the fabric of your clothing as you rushed through the burning rubble.

When you finally reached a small area by the blazing buildings, your daughter's figure was being held up in the air by a villain.

Before you could rush forward or even call out the girl's name, your arms were pinned behind your back. The back of your knees was kicked in, causing you to fall forward and hit the asphalt painfully.

"Look at what we have here! The hero's wife and kid!"

The man's guttural voice was clamorous, overtaking the chaos around your figures. "Let me go! I Swear I'll-"

One of the man's hands clasped over your mouth and forced your frame to face your child. She kicked and scratched her hands wildly. She even grasped the person's arms, but its thermal suit kept them protected from her premature blast.

Muffled curses could be heard from your covered mouth as you struggled to free yourself. The flames grew closer, so close that you could feel its tails flickering close to your body.

Suddenly those hands that held your frame down migrated to grasp your neck and squeeze. Pressure rushed through your head, and the force of the man's burly hands felt as if he were crushing the bones in your neck.

Your vision grew blurry through the tears from lack of air but even with your compromised sight, you could make out your daughter's struggling cease and her body appearing limp in the other person's hands.

The hands crushing your throat were removed which led to you violently coughing and inhaling the smoke and pollution.

The sole of his heavy shoes was placed on your left leg that was swiftly brought down upon your limb. You could almost hear the cracking of your bone but every nerve, the sense was shut off from your adrenaline.

You couldn't hear, feel, or even smell. You just felt heavy.

He did the same to your left knee, raising his heavy boot only to slam it down on your bone and obliterate it into pieces.

The person holding your daughter threw her body to the asphalt like she was trash before removing something from their pocket. It erupted in flames and was released onto your child's slumped body.

She burst into flames just as quickly as everything else had. You could see her mouth widening, the veins on her neck throbbing, but she didn't move.

It was as if she couldn't, like all her strength was drained and her limbs nonfunctional.

"Nadine!"

Your nails dug into the asphalt, dragging your body towards hers. The child vermillions optics looked up at yours, and you could see the absolute despair.

"Baby! Baby, no!" Your voice cracked as you removed your jacket and thrust it onto her frame, attempting to put out the lively flames.

You could barely even move, the adrenaline was starting to fade and the pain began to flush through your system.

"M-Mom..." Her voice was weak, so crackly that you almost didn't understand what she said. "It...h-hurts."

The tender skin of your palms was searing, the flesh almost dripping off your hand. Every single thing hurt, tears ran down your face and evaporated as soon as they trickled onto the girl's frame.

Flames licked at your skin, scorching through your clothes and burning other areas of your body.

"Nadine, no!"

Your voice was the loudest it had ever been, resonating through the whole area as whisp of translucent wind began rushing past your frames.

It circled the two of you in a whirlwind, taking in the flames that surrounded the streets. The wind moved so fast that all the oxygen suddenly vanished.

The fire on the girl's body was extinguished. However, you couldn't breathe. You choked, throat throbbing as your limbs refused to move.

Your vision began to falter, fading in and out while you fell onto your side by your daughter. The sensation of feeling anything was dissipating, the pain numbing into nothingness.

The last thing you could comprehend was the whirlwind slowly evaporating with the fire and bodies flooding toward your frames.

One of them surely had ash-blond hair and the same lively vermillion eyes as your daughter.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

Voices droned on, reverberating everywhere and disrupting you from your deep unconsciousness. That once generous numbness no longer protected you from the pain.

It flooded through your nerves, tingling, and throbbing on your hands, legs, and stomach. A groan sounded from your lips due to the discomfort.

Weakly, only your left eyelid opened as you were met with a dimly lit hospital room. It took more energy than it should have to look around.

The curtains were pulled over its wide windows and all the lights were shut off. Monitors next to you beeped rhythmically, echoing out in the enclosure that felt so cold.

Glancing down you observed the thick white cast around your left leg. It covered your foot and rose all the way up to your pelvis.

Your hands, they laid limply by your side, wrapped in stout cold wrapping that appeared like large unfitting gloves.

Light danced across your lap which compelled you to peek up from your hands. The door to your room was opened and in the doorway stood your husband.

His vermillion optics met your (e/c) ones and he immediately diverted his attention to the ground. It was too slow, like physical dread as he closed the door and made his way to your bed.

Katsuki reached the table next to you and grasped a pitcher of water. He raised it, it hovering over the surface before colliding with the table.

He released all the air from his lungs, his shoulders deflating while his jaw clenched. The man attempted it again, lifting the pitcher which seemed to weigh a ton, and pouring its contents into a glass cup.

Your husband turned to you and held the water just below your chapped lips.

"Here, you need to drink something."

His voice seemed dry as if he had no strength to even speak. As if he had torn the muscles in his throat and still forced the words out.

You didn't move or even attempt to drink, you just stared at his face. You wanted him to look at you but he refused to even let his gaze dance upon your face.

"Where's Nadine?"

Katsuki's voice may have been tense but yours was absolutely broken. Your voice was barely above a whisper but the way it sounded just felt so wrong.

The male didn't speak for a moment, keeping the glass by your lips before slowly retracting it and placing it on the table.

He reached for a chair and brought it to your bed with dreadfully slow movements. He set himself down and you watched as one of the strongest people you had ever known slumped over as if he had been beaten.

"Nadine-" Her beautiful name - the name you picked out almost immediately when you were informed of your pregnancy - made shivers run down your spine.

Katsuki opened his mouth to speak but no words left his cavern. His gaze was on his calloused hands, rough, coarse, and now damp with his tears that began to trickle down his face.

"She uh..." He took a deep breath, swallowing the cry that wanted to leave his lips. "Our daughter didn't make it."

Wetness could be felt on your face, cupping around your chin before dripping down onto your chest.

"And our son...He didn't make it either."

Your body was trembling as if you were cold. Your teeth chattered against each other as if you were freezing.

There were so many things you were feeling. All of them begging, scratching to rise out of your throat.

Eventually, they all clamored together until it was just a jumbled ball of emotions. Not a single one was dominant because, at the moment, all you felt was numb.

"(Y/n)?"

Slowly, almost with jerking movements, did your head move to face his. Finally, he was looking at you. But he was looking at you with her eyes.

Like poison, like deep-rooted hatred, venom left your lips in a frail yet harsh manner. "This is all your fault."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"(Y/n)...please." His voice was muffled by the door.

You didn't say anything; instead, you tugged the thick comforter over your head and pulled your body into a fetal position.

"Baby, come on. You need to eat."

Again no words left your lips. You just wanted him to leave you alone. That's all you wanted, was to be alone.

His fist knocked on the door, and although it was quiet, it still made something tick inside of you. Your hands flung the comforter off of your body before you reached for your cane.

You limped over to the door, the end of your rod pounding into the floor with great force. Yanking open the door and seeing the sight of your husband made a sneer grow on your lips.

"What do you want? What do you want from me!? Can't you just leave me alone to die!?"

It had been four months since the hero parade incident. You were only discharged a month ago due to how severe the burns were on your body.

Not to mention the surgery you had to undergo on your right eye. They had to remove your iris due to how burnt it was, which left you blind in one.

The cast was removed after two months, but the doctor revealed that you would no longer be able to walk normally. The way the villain broke your leg and knee left you with a permanent limp; you almost couldn't even walk if you weren't using a cane.

You were damaged, no longer able to bare any children. You were scarred, covered in burn marks almost everywhere. You were disabled, an entire limb broken and never to be fixed again.

"What I want... is for you to eat." Your husband stated, towering over your slouching figure. "You haven't been eating, and don't think I don't hear you f*cking retching it all up when you do eat."

Your eyes narrowed, the glare just as strong as the sneer that was on your lips. "I don't want to eat! I want my children back, but you won't let me go to them!"

Katsuki's chest halted, and he visibly stopped breathing. His hands that hung loosely by his sides clenched into fists.

"(Y/n)...you don't think I want them back too? It's all I can think about but starving myself...yourself, is not going to bring them back or you to them."

His voice was low, much more tender than what it usually is. One of his hands extended and reached upwards to your face.

"I miss her, (Y/n). I miss Nadine."

Something had snapped inside of you. Your chest that was building a ball of fury combusted outwards. Wind rushed past your frames, the furniture and decor beginning to rattle.

The explosive quirk hero glanced around before turning back to face you. "Hey, it's okay; I'm here. You can relax."

You didn't listen; instead, the wind encircled your husband's feet before flinging him away from you. His back made solid contact with the walls of your home before he fell down onto one knee.

"Relax?" You laughed for the first time in months, but it was not one of joy. "How can I when you killed my babies!? When you had to break another stupid little promise even though we begged you to come!?"

Another blast of wind shot forward at him, and he once again connected with the wall. He grunted, one of his eyes shutting from the impact.

"How can I...When my body wants to finally manifest its quirk...but only when my daughter is dying...? After my life is taken away from me! When I could have saved them if I had this thing before that happened?"

A whirlwind assembled at your husband's feet before it grew in size and surrounded his entire body. The wind was so strong, everything began to float in a circular motion around it.

"(Y/n), stop!"

Gradually the wind grew in strength, the walls trembling as the oxygen inside the whirlwind slowly began to dissipate.

The man inhaled deeply, grasping his throat as he wheezed out. You stared at him with a blank expression, not a single thing inside of you feeling remorseful.

He deserved this...He deserved this...He deserved this

Abruptly multiple explosions rang in the air, the sound startling you, which caused your whirlwind to disappear.

It reminded you of the parade, of when the act occurred out of nowhere. You can't handle the sound! You can't handle the sight!

Fire - It was nothing but death, a destroyer of all...and it scared you so much.

The ash-blond inhaled deeply, massaging his throat before slowly training his attention to you. His boots made heavy contact with the ground as he made his way back to your frame.

Your eyes widened and you could feel your heart thumping irregularly from his rapid movement. You expected his hand to come down but instead, he wrapped them around your frame.

He pushed your body against his, hiding his face in your neck as he sniffled. It had been a few months since you let him get so close, you usually refused to even be in his presence.

"It's okay." His voice sounded as if he were to cry. "I'm not mad."

He sucked in a shaky breath with his thumbs caressing your back. "I know it hurts. I know I can't do anything about it so just take your anger out on me."

You stared blankly at the dark ceiling of your room before allowing your cane to fall to the floor and reaching your arms around his.

Your fingers gripped onto the back of his shirt by his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin and drawing blood.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

Tears fell from your fame, dampening your skin as your vision blurred.

With a quiet voice, you spoke to him. "I hate you."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Why did you do it!?"

You glanced up from the book in your hands and tilted your head to the side. "What? What are you talking about?" You quired.

Your husband stepped forward into your room and threw his phone onto the bed next to your frame. You glanced at it, your lips pursing before you looked back up at the man.

"You think I did it?" A laugh reverberated from your lips as you turned to face your book. "I'm half blind and disabled in one leg. How could I ever kill more than fifty people?"

"(Y/n), they all suffocated to death last night. No foul play was found and no signs of a struggle." He pressed.

A giggle, soft and short echoed into the room. "Whoever did it must have been pretty mad, don't ya think?"

Katsuki stepped forward and knocked the book out of your hand, the hardcover book banging into the wall and falling on open pages.

"Two heroes." He spat, his brows furrowed with his vermillion optics staring at you intensely.

"You killed - slaughtered - fifty villains from that militia organization, and if that wasn't enough, you murdered two heroes the same night!"

You waved your hand dismissively, the scarring from your burn visible for a moment before you clasped your hands together on your lap.

"So what?" You sought. "They were getting in my way."

Your words had your husband stunned. His mouth fell open, and his eyes enlarged. He took a step back, hands frigid by his side before one flew up to cover his face.

"I can't...You can't...(Y/n), what the h*ll!?" He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

A smile formed on your lips, wide and nearly sinister. "It's okay, Katsuki. I'm still your wife...well, at least until one of us dies."

The man's hand fell from his face, his expression one of disbelief before he pivoted on the balls of his feet and swiftly left the room.

The door was slammed shut loudly, the force prompting it to rattle against its hinges.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"I'm giving you a choice. Either kill me right now and save hundreds of lives or-" You wagged a finger teasingly as the cool air from the night rushed past your frames.

"-let me live and find bodies after bodies every day. A villain, a civilian, or a hero? Everybody is fair game."

His face was pained, brows creased, and eyes scrunching tightly.

"You think I can f*cking kill my wife?" He asked atop the factory, standing only a meter or two away from your frame.

Months have passed since your first act of revenge, yet it didn't just stop there. You just couldn't stop.

"Why not?" You challenged almost in a childlike manner. "You killed your daughter and unborn son."

"(Y/n), please..." He begged, hands turning into fists by his side. "I didn't know that was going to happen."

You shrugged your shoulders and lightly tapped your cane on the rooftop. "You made a promise to come with us. You said you weren't going to break this one. It doesn't matter if you didn't know. If you just would have come...you could have protected us, just like you said in your vows."

Gradually, you lifted your hand out and turned it over, so your scarred palm faced the sky. The wind rushed together and formed a ball of a visible white whisp.

"I would have never manifested this dangerous quirk, and I was quite content being a quirkless piece of sh*t too."

You laughed to yourself, your gaze on the ball of whisp that fluctuated between a white hue and translucent.

"I never wanted one anyway since I had you. I didn't need a quirk when I married someone I thought could protect me."

Your husband inhaled a shaky breath, his fingers clenched by his side, and he stepped forward slightly. "I am so sorry for what happened, but blaming it all on me wasn't fair. Nadine was my daughter too, and I am just as devasted as you." He declared.

Your smile sank.

"I had to go back to work every day, and it was as if I could hear her speaking to me again, cheering me on. Everyone gave me their half-a**ed sorry's and looked at me with...Dammit, (Y/n)! It wasn't fair that the world just kept moving on while we mourned!"

The wind dissipated from your hand as you gradually returned your attention back to the ash-blond hero. Your expression was unreadable, stoic, as if it looked like you were contemplating something.

It was a minute or two before you inhaled deeply and tapped your black cane on the rooftop. "You'll never understand the pain of a mother losing her children." You informed him.

Katsuki inched a step closer; his expression would have been just as unreadable if it wasn't for his knitted eyebrows.

"No, I never will. But I know the pain of a father losing his kids and a husband losing his wife."

His words made your heart pulse laboriously; that rapidly growing guilt you tried so hard to suppress was filling your stomach heavily.

And then he spoke again.

"I didn't just f*cking lose my daughter and my son in that attack, (Y/n)." He stepped forward too. "I lost the most loving, brilliant wife anyone could have. And instead of working through it together, you just pushed me away."

By now, he was standing in front of your slouching figure. "I'm hurting too, (Y/n). The guilt of not being there has never left, and I couldn't forgive myself for breaking our promise like that."

The hero slowly grasped your hand that once wore a wedding ring and brought it to his lips. He connected them to your knuckles and shut his eyes.

Deep down, you knew it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone but the villains who attacked that day. Katsuki was the best husband and father anyone could be. He would sacrifice anything for his family.

But on that day, your children were not the only ones that parted. Something inside of you just broke, all the love, joy, and happiness; it all just left you.

Everything didn't feel empty, it was all just filled with fury, pain. You couldn't look at things the same, you couldn't love your husband the same as before.

There was no room for it anyway, all there was room for was continuing the cycle of death. Everybody needed to know it. Nobody deserves to live while your daughter lay six feet under.

"I can't help but hate you." The words fell from your lips like a whisper in the wind causing your husband to slowly open his eyes to reveal his vermillion optics.

He lowered your hand gently to your side before raising his once again to caress your cheek. It had been a long time since he had felt your face, you wouldn't let him before.

"I know." His thumb ran over your bottom lip. "Yet I can't help but love you still."

You could feel the tears well up in your eyes, your vision blurring as his figure narrowly distorted. Sometimes he really did have a way with words.

"I miss you...so much, Katsuki." You hadn't said his name in months.

The hero leaned forward, his lips connecting with your forehead to place a lingering kiss. To his surprise, he found your arms banding around his frame and leaning on him for support.

His lips could be felt growing on your skin.

"I miss you so much too. And I would do anything to help you get better. Anything to get my wife back."

You didn't realize you were crying until his shirt felt damp against your face. There were many reasons you married this man, and his nature of not giving up was one of them.

"I can't go back." The words were muffled against his chest. "I've killed too many people, innocence included. All I want to do is bring pain upon others, it's the only that helps."

His hold grew tighter and you could feel his torso shake from his deep exhalation. "It doesn't have to be." Katsuki's head dropped to be in the crook of your neck. "I can help you...if you would stop pushing me away and just let me in."

Nobody spoke after his words; it felt as if both of you couldn't. The embrace was tight, secure as if the two of you were too afraid to let go.

The wind was rushing past your frames atop the towering factory building. You planned for a confrontation after he caught you on a manhunt, but instead, he stopped you with his words.

With hesitant hands, you gripped the side of his waist. "There is only one thing...and I beg of you to do it."

The adult's grip tightened on your body, squeezing you so firmly against himself. "Anything."

"Please kill me. Please, finally, just let me die."

You could feel his chest halt its movement, his breathing ceasing as if he couldn't believe what you had just said to him.

"(Y/n)." His voice sounded so broken saying your name. He pulled back so he could look down at your face with the moon casting its glow on your skin.

"You know I can't do that. I can't kill the woman I love; you're all I have."

Glancing up at his face you could only take a deep breath and nod your head. You removed your arms from his body and strode back to gain distance.

"I see." The words were dry. "Then I expect our paths to cross again in the future, and when it does, I hope you save me this time."

You trekked backward, stopping once you reached the edge where your heels sat on nothing but air.

"(Y/n)-" He never got to finish his sentence as you let your body lean back and fall off the rooftop. The male had never moved so fast as he ran to the edge only to see you hover just a few feet below, multiple translucent wisps of wind surrounding your feet.

"I promise you one thing!" You exclaimed over the swishing winds of your quirk, and a genuine smile formed on your lips. "I will not die unless it's by your hands, so I'll wait until you're ready!"

You rose higher in the air, this time towering over him as you leaned forward and connected your lips on his cheek.

"Stay alive. Live healthily, take care of yourself, and do what you believe is right. I'll be waiting to be reunited with our children, Katuski. I'll be waiting until the day you let me die too."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Madam, your face is leaking again."

You blinked; your vision that once played the past now returned to normal and depicted the sunset that cast a golden glow on everything.

Staring at it a little longer, you could feel the fresh air entering your scarred lungs, tasting like earth too. You lay on the pool lounge a little longer before slowly sitting up.

Your body felt as if you hadn't moved it in years, so sluggish and heavy. Your head pulsated, throbbing with a headache that had been lasting weeks.

You had to close your eyes from the blasphemes pounding as you swung your legs around and placed your feet upon the warm tile of your sun terrace.

This always happened when you had moments to just think, you would remember the past all those years ago.

It made you waste a good day not swimming in your lido, the open-air pool that was situated in the back above the hill of your home.

You slowly lifted a hand to your face and felt the wetness upon your cheek. "How vile." You muttered and smeared the fallen tears across your face. "My cane."

The young man complied, reaching for the black cane with a golden handle by his side and handing it to you. You took it with a heavy hand and hauled yourself up to your feet.

Your left leg had been feeling more like a dead weight than a still-working limb. No matter which doctor you threatened to fix it, there was nothing they could do for the growing crudity.

A groan left your lips, the headache only growing stronger now that you moved. You held your forehead with one hand and pressed your digits into your temple.

"Madam, are you alright? Do you need your pain relievers? Should I call for the doctor?"

"Shut up." You lamented under your breath and carefully removed your hand from your head. Esau stepped forward, his hands behind his back as he gazed down at you with his earthy brown optics.

"If you are feeling unwell, then I believe a check-up is in order." He remarked intently.

A frown etched its way onto your lips as you looked at the boy. "Didn't I say to shut up, or do you want to go through more training with Erskine?"

Esau had no reaction to your words, continuing to stare down at you blankly but unwavering. "You did but your health is more important to me than my punishment."

The frown shifted into a sneer.

Esau was once a boy living in the streets, fending for himself like a rabid starving animal. His clothes were nothing but dirty rags, his light brown skin was overlaid in dirt, and his grey hair was knotted in an unsightly manner.

He was only thirteen when you found him, but he had lived in those rotten slums for almost all his life. Because of it, his instincts were heightened, and his quirk was rather effective.

Fending for himself, doing whatever it took to live made him dangerous but also ignorant to others, especially when he targeted you in those streets.

He attempted to steal from you by mimicking the voice and appearance of your late daughter. And he almost got through to you but he was immediately surrounded by a whirlwind that began to deprive him of oxygen.

He reverted back to his original appearance and began to choke on the lack of air. You planned to kill him but when the boy looked at you not with desperate eyes, but a hungry ravenous gaze for life, you let him live.

You took him in, refining his quirks to work for your own selfish reasons. His ability to know of one's deepest love and mimic their exact appearance and voice was useful.

He didn't have a name so you gave him one. Esau, the brother betrayed by both his brother and mother in The Book of Genesis.

It was rather fitting, just like how the firstborn was swindled out of his birthright in the Hebrew Bible, the boy was swindled out of loving care by heroes who let a villain live, only for that villain to murder the boy's parents the same night.

You gave him everything he needed, shelter, food, clothes, and training, but never the one thing he wanted the most.

Your love.

After everything you had gone through, you were not able to provide another person with such a thing. Especially when he could never replace your two children in your broken heart

Five years had passed since you raised him to be a weapon, to be your eyes, your legs, and he doted on you more than anything.

He was cruel, apathetic to everybody, and held no second thoughts when killing a target. But when it came to you, he was vulnerable, desperate for any praise or ounce of affection.

You were his savior and in his eyes, a mother he only wished to make proud.

Esau did everything you ordered, train, kill, and now he was a young man. Built with muscles from Erskine's training but also scarred from your hands when he angered you.

No matter what abuse - verbal or physical - was handed to him he took it like a soldier. He never held any resentment towards you, he couldn't when he knew all you felt was sorrow.

He was obedient like a loyal dog and cared for your well-being more than his own.

"Call for the doctor and inform Erskine's that you will be doing endurance training after dinner for two weeks."

The male leaned forward, bowing his head adequately. "Of course, Madam. Thank you for complying with my wish."

You rolled your eyes and ambled back into your grand home, the cane pounding into the marble flooring loudly.

"It is only because I am in no mood to argue." You replied with the 'adoptive' boy trailing after you.

His lips were blessed with a rare smile on his usually stoic face. "I know."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Esau, I want to talk to Nadine."

"Of course, Madam."

He inhaled deeply, gazing into your (e/c) and blind back optics. You watched from atop your bed as the male's tall stature shrunk to that of an eight-year-old.

His appearance changed to the exact characteristics of your daughter on her birthday, the same young and innocent gaze that was burned into your memory.

"Come here." You cooed and opened your arms widely. Esau, who now bore the appearance of Nadine Bakugo, climbed onto the mattress with small (s/c) colored hands.

He wasted no time plunking himself against your chest and feeling the warmth of your body against his. The pungent scent of alcohol wafted into his nose and burned the inside.

You didn't like to drink often, only on rare occasions, and when you did you would request the same thing every time.

To speak to Nadine.

Esau complied willingly, desperate to use his quirk to appease you. It was the only time you looked at him with such a loving gaze and actually held him in your arms.

It was the only time he could receive even the smallest amount of affection he'd been craving all his life. The adoration may have been superficial but it was enough for his starving heart.

"Mom-" You only allowed him to call you mom when he took the form of your daughter. "-can I have a kiss?"

A hum reverberated off of your chest as you slowly closed your eyes. The young man felt you shift, a hand brushing away his bangs and warm lips connecting with his forehead.

Heat exploded under his skin, his heart thumping audibly in his ears. The warm sensation of affection was so quaint, so rare, that every time he experienced the feeling, it was as if he were falling from a tall height.

His stomach flipped, chest expanding with wide amounts of air, and pressure building up in his head that all took his breath away.

Gradually the boy's eyes fell closed, opening every once in a while as he fought the sleep. But alas, the loving embrace of his mother was too much to fight, and he let himself fall into a deep unconsciousness.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"Don't move."

You cocked your head to the side, your lips pursing while you gazed out at the night sky. A cluster of well-established heroes surrounded your frame behind you.

"You're under arrest, Breathtaker. We're taking you into custody."

Your fingers danced across the golden handle of your cane, tapping it lightly on the ground before gradually pivoting around in the graveyard.

"So rude, you all are~." You hummed, placing a singed hand on your hips. "A mother comes to mourn her departed child, and you all arrive to disturb her."

Your eyes narrowed at their frames, you even recognized a few. "And it's actually rather humiliating that you think you can stop me."

The wind rushed past your frames, circling everyone in a ball of a translucent whisp. What made you so treacherous - one of the most wanted villains - was how you didn't require your hands to utilize your quirk. You didn't need to chant or call out to it like others.

All you needed to do was just think about what you wanted the wind to execute, and it did it without fail.

"We know we can't," Izuku was the first one to speak which drove you to roll your eyes.

"But you won't hurt me."

The group dispersed and to your surprise your husband stepped forward out of the crowd, his stature taller, and broader than it was five years ago.

"Oh, using my old spouse to stop me? How cruel~!" You held out your wrist, leaning on the centerpiece to hold yourself up. "Finally, come to kill me?"

His gloved hands snatched your wrist roughly, your body nearly tumbling forward from your fragmented leg if it wasn't for Katsuki holding up your frame.

"No." His voice was gravelly, tone coarse and raspy. As if he had been downing liquids that caused him more harm than good. "You don't get to have what you want."

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

"This isn't a prison."

"Of course not." He sneered, hurling your body onto the couch that lay limp from all the bindings. "It took every f*cking connection I knew to keep you out. You're under my watch now."

A pout formed on your lips, your figure squirming from the awkward position of laying on your stomach with your head dangling off of the edge.

Your cane was tossed onto the ground by your frame while you heard the man's heavy boots distancing from the room.

Finally, managing to situate yourself in an upwards sitting position, your one functioning eye takes in the scenery before you.

After five years, Katsuki continued to live in the home you all once shared as a family. He did some work, and the broken walls and ripped furniture you once caused were restored.

He decorated the living room with objects of your favorite colors, and picture frames displaying your family years ago when you were all together.

The sight caused you to frown, a sensation in your stomach fluttering while the front of your head pulsated in a returning headache.

Your sight fell upon your bounded wrist, tracing the scars of your burned palms. "If you were going to keep me out of prison, we could have gone to my villa." You murmured.

There were no words that followed after your sentence, just the sound of running water from the bathroom sink.

A heavy sigh was exhaled from deep within your lungs. "Hey!" You called. "Used to be husband; I'm hungry!"

In response to your words, the door to the bathroom was bashed open with an audible bang, and his footsteps grew louder the closer he reached.

"Then starve."

You watched as the man you used to live with trekked past your frame in the living room and made his way to the bedroom.

Your blind eye was twitching from his words, and you almost found your wind swishing around in the space. "Why?" You whined, a voice in a child-like manner. "Didn't I teach you to be courteous to your guest?"

He didn't respond, and the lack of it had you groaning in your spot on the cushion. Your stomach was churning; your tongue began craving your chef's five-star platters.

You started to drift off in your thoughts, wondering if Esau was informed of your situation.

The young man was most likely enraged at your capture, unable to comprehend why you've let yourself be taken when you could have easily escaped.

It shouldn't be long until he finds your whereabouts, a few hours or so, if he completes his mission in a timely manner. In the meantime, you guess you'll just have to deal with your estranged husband for now.

Small veins on your forearm throbbed from the tight bindings on your wrist, your fingers twitching from the lack of adequate blood flow.

"You know binding me is pointless!" Your voice bellowed through the home, which was followed by an audible huff from you afterward. "I thought you only liked this in the bedroom!?"

"You little sh*t!" He spat from the room and traveled out to be in your view. He was changed from his hero costume into some civilians.

A simple pair of grey cargo pants and a white tank top covering his torso. One of his hands was scratching at his stomach; his top lifted slightly to reveal his thin, ash-blond happy trail.

"You're more annoying than I remember. Can't you just sit down and be quiet?" He huffed, striding into the kitchen.

"No." You snapped, leaning back into the couch and kicking your bound legs onto the coffee table. "I would be on a yacht right now, sipping some Domaine Leroy Chambertin Grand Cru while being fed from a golden platter."

The ash-blond didn't reply, keeping silent as you heard a pan connecting with the stove. Your left leg began to pulsate slightly, the tender bones in your knee and shin beginning to throb in discomfort.

It's been some time since you took your pain relievers, and the ache would only grow stronger from here on. You didn't bring any with you, considering the possibility of being captured didn't really ring in your head.

You'll just have to make do and deal with it until Esau arrives. A grunt left your lips whilst you shifted uncomfortably in your spot.

As the pain from your legs plagued your mind, it didn't help that the familiarity of your home caused an ache in your shrunken heart to grow sharp, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

It was hard to look around, every single thing in the living room replaying a memory of the happier times years ago.

How Katsuki has managed to live with these constant reminders is beyond you. He was always the one with a healthier mind, even being as arrogant as he is.

"You've done well." Your voice broke the silence and overtook the sound of butter sizzling in the pan. "Your name is always highly praised in the news."

The ash-blond didn't react for a moment, the sound of a wooden spoon scraping the skillet filling your ears.

"Of course it is." He sneered, which was followed by the fridge opening loudly. "I do my f*cking job."

Your left leg jerked against the bindings around your thighs and ankles, the throbbing sensation overtaking more of your nerves.

"Of course, after all, that's what I told you to do."

A plate collided on the kitchen counter so forcefully you were surprised it didn't shatter. "You didn't tell me sh*t but to kill you."

You shrugged your shoulders, staring at a blank part of the wall to keep your eyes from wandering. "I mean, I did tell you that too."

The hero grunted from the other room, his annoyance bringing about a smile on your lips from his reactions.

It really did use to be the other way around. His teasing remarks had you snapping back at him, threatening to make him sleep on the couch if he angered you any longer.

No matter how hard you try to forget you always remember the way he would snatch your wrist and pull you against his warm body. He would be laughing at your reactions but would always lean down to pepper your skin in kisses.

He loved you with every part of his being and at one point, you did too. Your tummy tingled from the memory, prompting a heavy sigh to echo out.

'Esau, you better arrive quickly or I'm breaking your legs again.'

The sweet aroma of a delicacy wafted into your nose, removing you from your thoughts and diverting your attention to the scent.

Katsuki waltzed out from the Kitchen and set a plate on your lap, a utensil slightly hanging off the edge. You glanced down, your throat tightening slightly from the sight.

"You would feed a criminal their favorite dish?" Your gaze followed the ash-blond who sat on the opposite couch, distancing himself from your figure. "My, you have grown soft. Isn't that right, Dynamight?"

His childish hero name left your lips in a taunting manner. The male's vermillion optics flung to your frame, his jaw clenching with veins arising on the back of his hands from a firm grip on the silverware.

"Keep running your mouth, (Y/n), and I'll make sure they send your a** to prison."

Your lips pursed. "Well, at least in prison, I don't have to eat with my wrist bound. I'm not some maniac, you know." You stated.

"No, you're a cold-blooded killer."

Grasping the utensil awkwardly with the bottom of your palms pressing into each other, you responded. "I prefer a heartbroken mother; oh wait!" You pointed the silverware at the male. "Do I even get to call myself a mother anymore? I don't have any children left!"

There was an obvious aura of tension that rang in the air. Katsuki's frame was unmoving in his seat, his chest barely even rising with his breathing.

It made you bite your bottom lips to suppress a laugh, but you couldn't help it. It bellowed out in the living room, your plate of food almost spilling over.

"Haha! Laugh Hero! I'm absolutely amusing!"

A bead of sweat dripped down the side of your face, your laughter masking the ache that drilled through your veins. The faux joy you were displaying was the best you could do to hide the discomfort, concealing how you were trembling from pain and not laughter.

The coffee table that was holding up your legs was swiftly kicked out from under you. It collided with the wall, an indent clearly visible in the creme-colored panel.

Your feet slammed into the ground, the force bringing about an intense throbbing sensation that had your eyes widening.

An ardent gasp resonated in your old home as you barely managed to save the plate from falling over and decorating the rug in its contents.

You could feel a sudden pressure in the inner corner of your eyes, your vision zoning in and out with the recognizable sensation of tears clouding your corneas.

Hands grasping your head and applying pressure was the best way you could describe how intense your headache felt. Their grip was unwavering and strength diabolical.

Your body was discernibly overwhelmed, visibly freezing in its spot and suspending its breathing. There wasn't anything you could do to hide your distress.

Katsuki's swallowed audibly and his steps could be heard nearing. Your blurry gaze was cast on the cushion next to you, unaware of his frame that stood right in front of you.

His hands grasped the plate to pull it away but your grip on it was far tighter than he thought. One hand dropped to hold your wrist so he could pry the dish away.

The wrangled skin of your palms became visible as he placed the food on a side table. His warm calloused hands touched your bare skin for the first time in years.

Your body betrayed you, yearning for more of the familiar touch. And it grew worse when he removed his grip from your wrist.

There was no use fighting your heavy eyelids that closed as your shoulders slid against the cushion until you were laying on your side, pulling your arms into your chest in a cradle position.

It was embarrassing, to appear even frailer and affected by your old injuries in front of the strong man you used to love.

The facade of a witty vengeful villain quickly dispersed like a burst of air. If it wasn't for the quirk you manifest there was no way you could have gotten away with what you've done.

Without it, you were just a deformed and disabled woman. Blind in one eye, scarred and mangled skin on your body, and a sporadic leg.

You really were pitiful.

"Here."

Through it all, you didn't even hear his returning footsteps. Your vision cleared with tears leaving the slick home of your eyes and trailing down the side of your face.

One of his fair-skinned hands was holding a glass of water. The ice waged war inside and clicked against the walls of the cup, fighting to float atop.

Condensation permitted minute water droplets to coat the outside of its clear surface.

The other hand cupped three various colored pills that you instinctively recognized.

A heavy breath left your lips, echoing out audibly.

"Giving me pills that are what, almost fives years old?" You sought, attempting to sound unaffected but the raspiness disallowed it.

Your lips pulled upwards into a smile that was woefully twitching. "Trying to poison me?"

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth as he forced the medicine into your hands. "Whenever they expired, I picked up a new prescription just in case-" His speech halted with a heavy exhalation taking the place of his remaining words. "...in case you ever came home."

The smile immediately fell like an angel plunging from grace. With lips parted, you were sure you must have looked ridiculously dumbfounded.

You were sure the only way to describe the sensation in your stomach was sinking, like a regretful action made by an arrogant captain.

Gingerly you parted your lips, tossing in the medicine halfheartedly as Katsuki's hand assisted in setting you up so you could drink.

The liquid chilled your tongue, cooling down your warm esophagus as it aided in the swallowing of your pills.

Its wintriness hastily overtook your brain in a shroud of numbness that disappeared just as brisk as it surfaced.

You didn't realize how thirsty you were until the male removed the glass and more than half of its contents were absent.

"Remember, you need to eat when you take those." His hands had ripped apart the bindings around your wrist with brute strength before he did the same with the ones around your ankles and thighs.

Blood flowed through your limbs, filling your veins with liquid life that it was being deprived of. You flexed your finger a few, a weightless sensation surrounding your hands and feet for a moment until it was felt as if they landed back on earth.

Weight was placed upon your lap, recognizing the hard circular bottom of the plate. The energy to snap and spit a crude remark was no more, and you ate obediently.

His vermillion optics dwelled on your frame; you could feel it. Every area his eyes stayed on seemed to burn like rays of the sun.

You wanted to say something, but thankfully, his footsteps faded into the kitchen, resigning you to dine in silence.

The throbbing in your knee and leg was still aching, only slowly decreasing in its potentness. Listening to the sound of running water from the sink you absentmindedly ate until there was nothing left.

When you placed the utensil on the dish, the sound alerted the male. "Done?" He quired over the water.

"Yeah."

The floor creaked as he neared, his cologne emanating into your nose and filling your lungs as he leaned over the back of the couch to reach your plate.

His fingers grazed over the curve of your thighs as he held it in the palm of his hands. Your eyes followed his movements until he returned to the kitchen.

"Do you still ice it?" He suddenly asked, which caused you to click your tongue in annoyance.

"Icing my broken bones?" You sought, your voice a pitch higher in a mocking manner. "What a medical breakthrough!"

"(Y/n)." His voice was firm and unwavering.

...

"Sometimes..."

He didn't reply, finishing the dishes as you mindlessly examined your hands. The freezer was opened, the suction of the rubber seal echoing in the rooms.

The hero returned shortly after with a clothed ice pack in his hands. His next movement was surprising, setting himself down on the cushion next to you and laying your legs across his lap.

"Hey!" You hissed, attempting to remove your limbs from atop his but found no strength to do so. "W-Who said you could do that!?"

He didn't even look up at you as he placed the frozen ice over your leg, prompting an immediate cry of shock from its frostiness.

"It would be best if you just kept your f*ckin' mouth shut." His tone of voice was surprisingly calm, and the aggression he usually exhibited was absent.

You didn't want to listen to him but the thought of arguing back in itself was already exhausting so you let him be.

The coolness of the ice and the numbing of the medicine was not so much an unpleasant feeling anymore.

Icing your leg would have been enough but your old spouse had other ideas. His firm hand that held nothing relaxed onto your shins/calves and began to massage them softly at first before growing in strength.

A heaviness weighed on your eyelids; the comforting hand that kneaded your muscles had relieved tension that had been building up for years.

Your back glided against the couch until you lay flatly on the cushion. It was a familiar feeling, something he used to do back when you lived together.

When your fragmented leg just pulsed like an aching heart, and there was nothing you could do to quell the pain. You didn't know what to do, and with every painful throb of your injuries, you grew more spiteful every day.

You wouldn't let him touch you for months, even if it was just to help steady your frame that could barely stand on your own two feet.

But one day, you sobbed heavily and wailed due to distress. There was no strength to fight or argue when he diligently grasped your fragmented leg and iced it whilst massaging it too.

It alleviated some of the pain, and you thought you'd only allow him to help that night. But soon, you had grown dependent on his familiar touch and relished in the firmness of his calloused hands.

Just as you were now.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you concealed your eyes behind your forearm.

"How do you do it?"

Katsuki glanced at your face, unable to assess your emotion from your unreadable expression. "Do what?" He responded with perplexity.

You pursed your lips curtly as you stared into the darkness. "I mean, how... how are you still able to live here? With all the memories and-and the reminders. I can barely even look at a picture..." Your voice cracked at the end, and you could feel the glossiness taking over your conjunctiva.

He didn't respond for a moment, the strength in his hands growing faint as he thought to himself.

"It's not easy." He mumbles after a moment of silence. "It hurts all the time, just a dull aching in my chest, but... I don't want to forget the memories of my family as if it never happened."

Gingerly you slid down your arm so you could glance at his face with your one working eye. He was facing across the room, his expression one of someone lost in their thoughts.

The two of you were once childhood sweethearts, so in love. So in love with just the concept of love.

Passion never dwindled between the two of you, and instead, it felt as if it burned brighter with every passing day.

And when you became pregnant with your first child...you remember feeling so stupid for fearing the worse from him.

He took care of you like a man utterly in love would, providing everything he could offer and then some more.

God(s), you had loved him so much that you could never keep your hands off him. Such a turn of events for you to become repulsed after the incident if he even so much as brushed against you.

Your chest ached just thinking about it.

"Do you..." You ceased your words, inhaling profoundly as you questioned yourself why do you even wish to speak. "Do you remember our first kiss?"

The hero huffed, brushing his fingertips just above your knee. "How could I not? You punched me in the jaw and then pulled me down to meet your lips."

A ghost of a smile flashed over your face. "I was frustrated that a narcissistic piece of sh*t made me fall so in love with him." You crooned, waving a finger in the air teasingly.

Katsuki shook his head at the memory, fighting the grin that wanted to plaster on his lips. "Nobody made you." He quipped.

"I know." Your gaze shifted to the ceiling; the ache and pain in your leg had dissipated into a slight numbness. "But something just pulled me into you-"

When you flickered your attention to the hero's face, his dazzling vermillion optics staring back at you had felt as if they had taken your breath away.

"-like it was meant to be..."

His gaze deemed intense, it made your stomach flutter with something you believed you could never attain again.

It was difficult to look at him but there was a sense of familiarity you couldn't help but miss.

"I should sock you in the jaw again right now." You mumbled, compelling the man to bite his lips to stifle his laughter.

"Way to go ruining a moment, I thought that was my job."

Your fist flew forward and connected with his shoulder, his firm body barely even flinching from your weak attempt. His muscles were much more conformed than you remembered.

He was always fit, working out and training, but it seemed that he must have kicked it up a notch. Katsuki's body wasn't burly or extremely wide like a weightlifter; instead, everything was more defined and solid.

"Have you moved on?" You suddenly piped up; your gaze shifted to connect with your ex-spouses.

One of his ash-blond brows rose as his massaging hand grew in strength. "Hmm, once." He mumbled under his breath, breaking the intense eye contact to gaze at your leg.

"Well, what happened? I'm ever so curious, you know."

The hero inhaled deeply, his chest expanding whilst his neck muscles flexed. He appeared to be deep in thought, picking at the words carefully before speaking.

"Couldn't look at her face without seeing your sh*tty one...I would catch myself almost calling her your name nearly every time. It didn't last long for obvious reasons." The hero expressed with a gravelly tone.

You hummed at his words and shifted your body so you could be sitting up, your hands supporting yourself on the cushion. "You could have had a new family if you just worked through it. I know you could have done it."

Katsuki huffed aloud and ceased his movements on your leg. His head inclined downwards to face you whilst his jaw clenched. "I don't want a f*cking new family, (Y/n). I was going to wait for you to come back, no matter how long it was gonna f*cking take."

You swallowed thickly, your stomach fluttering for a moment until you scowled at the sensation. It made your throat desire to tighten, and your eyes glaze over with overwhelming emotions.

"What If I never was going to return?" You sought in a low voice. Your head slumped over as you shielded your eyes.

"Then I guess I would have been waiting forever." He responded breathlessly.

Your jaw clenched with teeth grinding against each other. You don't know why his words angered you, why it left your body yearning just to hold him in your arms.

To comfort you like he's done before.

Grasping a pillow behind your frame, you slammed it against his face and used his moment of hesitation to remove your legs from his lap.

You scrambled away, tripping over your fragmented leg as you utilized the tables and other couch to assist in your movement.

"Stop it!" The words were loud and clamorous with a skinny trail of tears flowing down your left eye. "I hate you! I'll always hate you! I became what I am today because of you! I was left to watch my daughter perish before my eyes and feel my own unborn son wither away inside!"

The cool wind began to swirl and wail in the living room, your hair dancing in its path with furniture beginning to tremble.

Katsuki slowly stood to his feet before he began to make his way to your frame. His face was unreadable, his expression dreary with his hands clenched by his side.

The closer he grew the more your wind picked up, your heart beating in your ears with your throat clenching.

"Stay away from me!"

He easily dodged a blast of wind that sent the couch the two of you were once resting on to now collide with the wall.

The hero suddenly ambled towards you with quickened footsteps that had your flight or fight reflex activated.

You were scared. Terrified of his actions in your vulnerable state.

His calloused hands rose in the air, and you braced yourself for some sort of impact, but it never came. Instead, he held your face in his rough palms and connected his lips with yours.

Those familiar warm lips had everything inside of you fluttering.

You wanted to pull away, to just f*cking hurt him, but you couldn't. Rather, your hands grasped his shoulders whilst you kissed back instead.

It was heated, the two of you kissing in a desperate but enraged manner. It was an action that was long overdue but was laced with bouts of fury.

"I hate you." You would huff every time you needed to pull away for air.

"I love you." Was what he would respond when he forced himself to breathe when all he wanted to do was stay connected to you.

Your weight leaned on his body, and the heat of his skin wafted onto yours and warmed your frigid insides.

"Stop touching me." You ordered under your breath when he pulled away and established his place along your neck.

"Then stop holding me." He retorted just as breathlessly.

You didn't realize your hands were grasping onto his body frantically as if you would let go and he would disappear.

Not finding the strength to respond, you remained silent; your ex-spouse's hands reached down to your thighs and hauled your body upwards.

He wrapped your legs around his waist and ambled away out of the living room. His action left you hazy, your mind was fuzzy from his touch, and your tummy was tingling.

The hero's mouth sucked and nipped at the exposed flesh on your neck, the throbbing sensation immediately shooting down to your cl*t.

Your puffs came out long and breathless, the sensation something you hadn't received in so long. The pads of his fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs whilst the front of his pants began to bulge against your crotch.

Placing your lips against his ear, you lightly grazed your teeth on his lobe. "Getting hard just from kissing?" You taunted, the corner of your lips quirking into a grin.

His response was to grasp you by the waist and fling your body onto a soft surface. Your limbs flailed from the fall, but you quickly recognized the scenery.

The two of you were back in your bedroom; everything appeared to be the same as before, with no differences.

Your ex-spouse wasted no time taking a position above yours, his knees caging your legs whilst his hands slipped under your shirt.

The calloused pads of his fingers pushed your bra upwards and immediately latched themselves onto your nipples.

Your breath became stuck in your throat, the pinching on your body permitting your hips to jerk and jaw to clench.

"Your chest seems to say the same thing." He mocked, his usual cocky grin plastering on his face. "Hard and sensitive just from a little kiss?"

You scowled at him, your hands flying to grasp his wrist to pull him away, but he responded by tweaking your nipples.

The sensation had you bite your tongue to still a cry, but the male could tell by your sudden silence. He released his hold so he could grasp the ends of your long sleeve and pull it over your head.

His grin only grew when you rose your arms to assist him. You scrunched your nose in response and looked away, unable to maintain his smoldering gaze.

However, once your top was removed his breath became stuck in his throat. His vermillion optics narrowed down onto the golden ring attached to a chain around your neck.

He reached towards it with a shaky hand, entrapped by the sight of your wedding ring, the band that displayed to others that you were his wife.

"I thought..." His tongue lacked the strength to continue, his gaze stuck on the words inside the jewelry that he had carved.

My first love & my last

"I-I watched you throw the damn thing into the ocean!"

Your frowned, your hands reaching for his wrist to pull him away, but his strength far surpassed your own.

Huffing, you shifted your gaze to meet his, and the scowl immediately fell upon the sight of his glossy, vibrant, vermillion eyes.

The strongest man you had ever known...was brought to tears upon the sight of your wedding ring. Something so sentimental that you mocked him for when your marriage became sour.

At the time when you had launched the jewelry item into the water, you remember laughing at his expression of turmoil. Even as you declared your love for him to be nonexistent, he still maintained his response of waiting for you, no matter what.

"I faked it." You mumbled. "...I needed to try and move on, and so did you, but I couldn't let it go. It was the one thing that I couldn't get rid of."

The hero inhaled deeply as he slowly reached down and unclasped the necklace. He removed the cold golden band and gazed at it in the palm of his hand.

He swallowed thickly, his adam's apple bobbing before he cast his gaze back onto your face.

"You have never stopped being my wife in my eyes, (Y/n). I married you all those years ago to be there for you through anything. To help when you felt like the world was against you."

Katsuki reached for your left hand and gazed at your ring finger. "I'm sorry if I made it seem like you couldn't confide in me. I'm sorry for putting everything else above you and Nadine before it was too late..."

He rose your hand to his lips and pressed them against your skin. A skinny trail of liquid could be felt trickling onto your fingers.

"I failed as a husband and a father."

Your lips quivered from his words, emotions flooding your system like a dam bursting. You had to swallow down a sob as you reached for his other hand that held your ring.

Guilt entrapped your heart as you came face to face with your issues. You know it wasn't his fault; you know you can't blame him anymore. You've been telling yourself the same thing for years.

Sh*tty things happen to good people for no reason, and it's about working through it.

"Put it back on me." Katsuki's optics flickered open to meet your gaze. "Put the ring back on my finger, please..."

The man hesitated, his body stiff as he contemplated profoundly.

"Put the f*cking ring on my finger and f*ck me, or I'll just do it myself."

"Don't rush me, woman!"

You scrunched your nose in response. Katsuki placed a lingering kiss on your ring finger before carefully sliding on the gold band.

The cool metal was a familiar sensation that made your tummy swirl and tingle. The sight was a bit nostalgic, like the memory years ago when he first placed the engagement ring on your finger and now mashing together.

Flexing your hand, you glanced back at the male and cocked your head to the side on the mattress.

"I'm not gonna say I love you just because we reconciled; I still hate you." You stated, which yielded a minuscule smile to appear on the man's lips.

"I didn't expect you to." He hummed to himself while leaning forward. The hero pressed his lips against your stomach, littering your bare skin with wet kisses until he switched to sucking the soft flesh.

Katsuki's hands migrated to your back, his fingers unclipping your bra, and were quick to remove it from your torso.

You were bare; the moonlight peering in from the windows allowed for the man to view your the way your chest rose and fall with your ragged breathing.

A few patches of skin were scarred and gnarled from the fire all those years ago. Gingerly his hands traveled to the area on the side of your ribs and caressed the sensitive layer.

"Don't touch it." You ordered, your lips quivering in disgust as you grasped his wrist and attempted to pull him away.

He leaned upwards to gaze at your face; however, you refused to meet his eyes. His hold on your body grew tighter, your ribs pressing into his palms while he leaned forward.

You could hear his breathing grow closer as his lips lightly met your cheek. He continued his smooches down to your jawline...around the curve of your throat...his tongue sweeping against your bare collarbone before he reached back upwards and grasped your chin with his hands.

Slowly your glossy (e/c) optics met his, your one working eye taking in his moonlit appearance. "You are so pretty." He breathed as if he were in the presence of an immortal deity.

His face leaned downwards so he could place a single swift kiss on your lips. "And I love everything about you, marked or not."

The hero's words were snatching the air from within your lungs, forcing the inner corner of your eyes to burn with more tears fogging your eyes.

Your hands flew to shield your eyes from his probing gaze whilst a hiccup reverberated into the air. You felt so vulnerable and overwhelmed by the event taking place.

Years you had spent insulting your own self, disgusted by your appearance, revolted by your disabilities.

You've never allowed anyone to get close enough to sway you off your negative thoughts or appreciate your body.

Much less receiving attention from your estranged husband that always had a place in your shrunken heart, even if you always denied it.

You felt like a crybaby for the number of times you've wept this night. It was a weakness, a sore spot that you never wanted to acknowledge.

Distracted by your thoughts, you didn't even realize that your husband removed your shoes and was peeling down your pants.

"W-Wait!" You stuttered, your thighs clenching together in an attempt to stop his movements. "There's...There's more burn's on my legs."

He shook his head lightly, his ash-blond hair glimmering in the moonlight. "And? I love every part of it too."

Your lips pursed curtly as you stayed silent but slowly you relaxed your legs and allowed for your husband to remove your pants and undergarment.

The vulnerability only grew with your complete nudeness, everything on for show. He could see it all now, the small scarred and burn patches along your legs, the imperfections and indents in your left shin from your numerous surgeries.

Embarrassing it all was to appear damaged and wounded but the man above you didn't appear to think the same.

His breathing became audible, his hands gingerly dusting across your legs as if he couldn't believe you were real, as if you were a dream that had finally managed to come true.

Your tummy fluttered whilst your cl*t throbbed from his actions. The mound between your legs felt slick with arousal as your body yearned for sensations you hadn't felt in years.

Leisurely the hero's calloused fingers reached down to your left shin where he rose it off the soft mattress.

Just like how his lips met your neck and he kissed it with fervor, he did the same along the deep scars. He trailed his smooches all over so nothing was left untouched.

He admired your wounds while you were appalled by them.

How could this man love you so much? How could he still kiss you when you had blood on your hands, both innocent and villainous?

Katsuki should know how disgusting your body is, so why was he still able to touch you as if you weren't repulsive?

"Do you love me?" You questioned, barely able to speak with a voice.

The man's vermillion optics flickered up to meet your gaze as he placed one more kiss on the surgical scar under your knee.

"I love you like you love the stars." He murmured along your leg, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You didn't respond. Instead, you laid back silently and allowed him to continue. His warm wet kisses resumed their assault on your skin as he rose up your leg, advancing up your inner thighs that had you already trembling.

By the time he finally reached your c*nt, he could visibly see the strings of slicks attaching to your bottom.

Was it the fact that you hadn't been touched in years that left you so sensitive? Or maybe it was because your estranged husband dipped every kiss with passion, already well-versed in what made you quake and tremble?

It was embarrassing, but the man didn't tantalize or mock you for it; no he simply appeared as a starved beast.

"Pretty girl." He murmured lowly, his breathing hitting your sensitive c*nt which yielded a quick short inhale.

Katsuki gripped your thighs and separated them like smooth butter. Just as how he kissed every inch of your body, his lips smooched on the edges of your sl*ts.

You whimpered aloud, clenching over nothing and desiring for him to kiss that throbbing cl*t. It was as if your heartbeat fell down to the bud, pulsating for attention.

Too proud and stubborn to tell him what you wanted, you let his slow kisses and licks torture you until finally his lips wrapped around your cl*t and sucked.

"A-Ah~!" The wail was louder than you expected. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment whilst your hands flew down to his spiky hair.

You tangled your fingers within his locks and tugged, his lips forming into a coy grin against your skin.

The hero didn't convey any snarky remarks to your reaction. He removed his mouth around your cl*t so he could lick along your entrance that secreted your arousal.

Your slick was hot, practically burning against the flat pad of his tongue but he devoured it like liquor and craving more like an addict.

"F*ck!" You cursed under your breath as your husband greedily consumed your essence.

Sweat coated in your skin on the mattress, your hair stuck to your jaw, and your bruised neck.

His tongue was like heaven with the way passion jolted and spread up your abdomen and legs. You were consumed in a hazy lust, entrapped in intense eros that had your tongue lay heavy in your mouth.

Whatever was transpiring out his intimate licking and sucking was unknown to you. Katsuki knew such facts and used them to his advantage.

Two of his fingers prodded at your hole for a moment before pressing in and sliding inside until he was knuckle deep.

A gasp lay stuck in your throat, your hips bucking upwards with your heated walls clenching around his extremities.

The pressure of a part of himself penetrating into you had your stomach fluttering. Your toes curled, your lone thigh that he had released to enter you had slammed against his head.

He hummed at your reaction, his lidded gaze meeting yours for a moment as he observed the way you could barely even breathe properly.

It was as if his belly was not only becoming full with your juices, but also the sight of your debauched expression.

Words couldn't explain the way your abdomen tingled and spread throughout all of your veins. The tugging on his hair grew harsher the more the ache in your bellow grew.

His fingers felt more of your natural lubrication seeping out of your entrance, indicating to him your growing arousal. Clearly, you were enjoying it, especially with the way you sucked in your abdomen and squeezed around him.

In between licking your bundle of nerves, he placed kisses against your cl*t. His delicate plump lips apply a bit of pressure as he played around, tested spots inside that had you melting beneath him.

You wanted more, the sensation of reaching a peak so close but so far. Slowly you ground your hips up and down across his face, feeling a smirk on his lip.

Katsuki's long nimble fingers began to move, pulling out causing you to clench down even more on his extremities. You didn't want to release any of him at all, even if it was just his fingers.

The hero's fingers gradually began to thrust at a consistent pace. It was slow at first, allowing for him to feel the strength of your clenching velvety walls and witness the way you ground your hips harder for more stimulation.

He pulled back to swallow the slick that accumulated in his mouth before hollowing his cheeks again and swirling his tongue around your sensitive area. The pressure on those bundles of nerves had mewls leaving your lips and echoing all within your bedroom

The male observed your concupiscence-filled expression, watching with extreme interest as your lips stood agape and your eyes became glossy.

He could see your stomach rising and falling with every quick sharp breath you made. Suddenly he hummed, letting the vibrations stimulate the sensorial nerves.

It felt like a tingling sensation that was becoming almost too overwhelming. You tugged on his hair and swallowed whatever saliva was in your mouth strenuously.

Your husband gave your little cl*t another lick before his tongue dragged downwards, circling around slits before letting some of your liquids of arousal pool on his tongue just below your entrance. The action caused you to shudder and contract your stomach.

He wasn't even doing much but he had you dripping. The pace of his fingers was not even fast but he was pressing them against the sensitive areas inside your body.

You knew the man used to have you writhing, unable to walk for long periods of time but this...this was mindboggling. When did he get so skilled?

The mess couldn't have been any hotter for the hero. He pulled his tongue away only for a moment so he could kiss the slick, swallowing it with throaty gulps before returning back to your cl*t.

His plump lips pressed against it once again before he turned his head to the side and began to litter your thighs with kisses as well.

He made sure to pay extra attention to small burnt and scarred patches that yielded your limbs to tingle just as well.

Those wounds were so repulsive, you hated looking at them in the mirror but caressed them with his tender lips.

Katsuki began to suck on your soft supple skin, leaving behind red/purple bruises that stung with pain but tingled with pleasure.

All while at the same time he let the pace of his fingers increase and he brushed against sensitive spots inside.

There was this feeling in your lower abdomen, it was a pulsating sensation that was growing stronger by the second, alerting you of your nearing climax.

The ash-blonde could tell as well by the way you bucked your hips and moaned aloud. You were squeezing so tight around his fingers he knew that your body was approaching an org*sm.

His hand that had been holding your hips moved your left thigh where he was littering them love bites and he began to intimately trail the tips of his fingers against your sensitive skin.

Your thighs clamped tighter against his head as you squeezed your lower body around him. It was overwhelming with how good the man was doing and you hate to say, but damn, did you miss it.

Your throat was dry, your neck muscles hurt from the strain, and you felt exhausted. Your spine had a small divet in it, slightly arched and off the table.

Katsuki pulled back to look at his handiwork on your skin, a part of him enjoyed the sight of the marking he placed on your body. Something he had long overdue for years.

Teasingly slow he breathed in the scent of your arousal and lowered himself back on your sensitive nerves.

He hummed, grazing your cl*t slightly with his teeth before resuming to sucking it. He knew you were close, so close. Your body was notably heated against his face, burning with passion and desire the most out of anywhere in your body.

He hummed joyously and heaved a heavy sigh. "I've missed this taste."

Your hips bucked against his face, your fingers tugging harsher on his spiky hair. You were so close.

The feelings you were experiencing were indescribable. All you knew was that everything just felt so good but so overstimulated. You knew you were getting to end, right the edge of the cliff where you'd fall into a pool of blinding satisfaction.

And before you knew it your org*sm hit and flushed all through your body, surging through your bloodstream and pounding your head with bliss.

"A-Ah~! Sh*t!" Your voice was louder than it had before as you cried out.

Your stomach contracted, the abdominal muscles were tight from how much you sucked in your gut. You clenched as tightly as you could, squeezing his fingers so tight you thought you might break them.

Harshly your thighs clasped even more firmly against his head in a death hold that didn't look like it was going to loosen anytime soon.

With your spine arching from your climax, you lied your head back against the bed with your swollen lips parted. The sight itself was astounding for your husband.

The unadulterated ecstasy that displayed on your face was something the male just wish he could eat up. He couldn't have been any prouder of the fact that he had you in such a vulnerable state, shaking, barely even able to breathe because of the intense release he brought you to.

Katsuki leisurely lapped up the liquids of your climax, taking his time as he savored the taste and the texture of it against the soft pads of his tongue.

It had you shaking profoundly beneath him, twitching from your oversensitivity. Your eyes felt so heavy you could barely keep them open, fatigue took over all your limbs leaving you limp and quite feeble.

He pulled away slowly and kissed your cl*t as if it was a delicate flower. The action had you jolt in your spot and pull his head away from in between your legs.

His lips were a coy grin that dripped with your climax. The sight of it should have been embarrassing but there was just something about it that made your desire grow.

Releasing his hair you grasped the back of his neck and pulled him down to connect his lips with yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue that mixed with the taste of himself.

It was er*tic the way your naked sweaty body rested beneath him, greedily sucking on his tongue.

Your knee brushed against his crotch, the painful tent in his cargo pants so obviously in a desire to be plunged in your warmth.

He huffed in between the kiss with one of his hands grasping your cheek in his palms and pushing you deeper into the kiss.

So hungry, so ravenous the both of you were. It was beginning to turn animalistic with the way every thought dispersed from your heads and all there was left was the need to be conjoined.

Frantically the hero removed his wifebeater before doing the same with bottoms and boxers. He grasped your thighs so he could position himself between your legs and rested his heavy appendage on your tummy.

It went well past your navel with the tip dripping its pre-c*m onto your bruised torso.

Your fingers dragged down his firm chest, flicking over his nipple as he heaved a heavy sigh between the kiss.

"Think you can take me again?" He breathed, resting his forehead against yours with his thumb caressing your thighs.

You grinned at his words and wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, the skin already slick with sweat. "Unless you're going to take away the sight of my other eye then I think I can."

He laughed in his throat as he released one of your legs to angle his body back and press the tip of his swelling c*ck at your drenched hole.

"Trust me; I'm gonna make you see white." He hummed.

Katsuki flicked the thick heavy head of his c*ck against your cl*t before resuming its place back at your entrance.

His hips pushed forward slowly, easing into you graciously. With every inch he entered in, you could feel the stretch of your body sending jolts all throughout your nerves.

It had been so long since you've been filled with something so warm, so rigid with stimulating veins along its surface.

You pulled his face down into your chest, your legs squeezing around his hips as the both of you sucked in a heavy breath.

The warm tight sensation of your body squeezing, molding around him had his throat tightening and hands gripping onto your thighs firmly.

It was a moment where neither one of you spoke and instead relished in the sensation of finally being together after years of separation.

Something about it just felt so right.

His crotch met yours when his length sheathed its entire self deep inside. There was no space between your bodies, the both of your chests pressing against one another, hands gripping each other's body.

How was it that his hips haven't even begun rocking and the both of you were already out of breath?

Was this just l*st or love?

You didn't know; you didn't care.

The close proximity of your bodies had the room become a feverish sauna. It only aided in arousing you more.

He was so deep inside, kissing your cervix that he could be felt twitching against your velvety walls.

"What? You're gonna c*m already?" You jeered.

The ash-blond huffed and rose his head so he could meet your gaze with his vermillion optics. "I recover fast."

Before you could reply, the hero rocked his hips back, his c*ck slipping from your depths. He could feel the way with every inch that was removed; you tightened as if refusing to let him go.

Answering your body's plea, he rolled himself back in, the tip grazing against those sensorial spots deep and shallow inside.

You found your voice only for a moment to cry out desperately. Only incoherent words were able to leave your lips and reverberate into the room.

Your mouth felt dry, your mind blanked, and the heat of your body increased. You couldn't help but feel a little dizzy from it all.

An intense org*sm already had been flushed through your veins, and he was arousing another so quickly. Your tummy tingled at the feeling of being so full.

It was like eating a large meal that made your stomach feel heavy and tired. Such a remarkable sensation that you could never ever forget.

An arch formed in your spine while you gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, with nails threatening to draw blood.

A lusty shaky moan left your lips that was mixed with his low grunts and groans. Drool dribbled down the corner of your lips as your teeth drove against each other tightly.

His c*ck twitched inside, and if possible, it felt as if he grew a size bigger with the way it swelled. "A-Ah." It came out from you broken, high-pitched.

You clenched down securely, the little butterflies that were felt dancing around in your tummy intensified.

At first, you thought his fingers and tongue were mindboggling inside of you, but clearly, you were wrong.

You had forgotten what he felt like inside of you, and Katsuki Bakugo was going to make sure you never forget again.

Your head was thrown back against the bed, your body jolting in the intimate missionary position. Your hips bucked against him as your tense fingers hurt from how hard you gripped his body.

His hips jerked as he quickly gained momentum and rolled his hips continuously. Katsuki at first attempted to be much more tender and take his time but he too was losing himself in the heat of your body.

He was using every muscle of his body to penetrate you deeply and ripple pleasure through your veins.

The male was being clenched down by your inner walls, sucking him in even deeper. The head of his c*ck just briefly brushing against your cervix.

Your core that was clenching down on his member fitted tighter around him, allowing you to feel every thick vein that protruded against the skin of his c*ck.

You molded so tightly around him as if your body was trying to keep him inside as much as possible. You never wanted to let him go.

The pace of his delightfully rocking hips grew. Every time he rocked his hips forward he pressed the head of his c*ck harder against the entrance to your womb.

Your moans of pleasure grew louder from his actions, your own body writhing and crying out for more. The man could barely make out some of the mumblings he was hearing from you but there were some things he could make out.

He could hear clearly when you begged for more of him. He could hear just how good he was making you feel.

The force he used to rock his hips made your body bounce on the mattress.

Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head and a slight ringing appeared in your ears.

That memorable sensation in your lower abdomen returned. A tight pulsating feeling that could only mean one thing.

Your org*sm was arising, your abdomen clenching while you sucked in your stomach. The pressure of one of his hands pressing down on your tummy added an extra sense of pleasure.

Katsuki grunted aloud and doubled the pace of his thrust as every firm muscle of his tightened and flexed. His crotch met yours with a rhythmic clap as his c*ck began to pulsate at the entrance to your womb.

Your whole body was trembling as your climax grew closer and closer. Your peak was there at the edge. You could feel it once again, waiting to be released.

His rolling hips increased, sloppy but intense as he focused more on reaching deep and hitting your sensitive areas.

Your body that was already as tight as can be held even tighter onto him than before causing another low grunt to leave his lips.

"You take me so well, baby."

With the overwhelming amount of stimulation flooding through your body, the tight tingling sensation in your lower abdomen basically released.

You cursed under your breath, your words slurred and barely audible from biting into the covers. Your toes curled, your thighs pressing against his toned hips and squeezing him as tightly as you could.

He leaned forward for a moment to place a kiss on your marked ribs before doing the same on your swollen lips

"Squeeze me just like that." He hummed. "C*m so I can see your pretty face like before."

Every muscle in your body contracted with your body tensing up while you sucked in your stomach.

A second org*sm raked through your body, and the male couldn't believe how much tighter you could squeeze down on him as you came.

The liquids of your org*sm milked his c*ck, the presence of it being seen on his member every time he had pulled out.

You reached the very peak of your ecstasy as it burst and spread all throughout your body. Pleasure rushed throughout your veins like adrenaline would.

You saw white with your hearing suddenly zoning in and out, the only thing you could catch was the man's muffled grunts and groans in your ears.

"K-Katsuki!" You had called his name for the first time in years and it made all bit of control and constraint diminish from his body.

He was hitting the deepest areas of your body while the heat of his skin wafted off onto yours. His large hands held you so tight as he absolutely dominated your frame.

The creamy white liquid of your org*sm pooled around the base of his c*ck and spread across your folds that were already sopping wet.

As the ash-blond continued to thrust sloppily, the liquids of your arousal and climax smeared all over his crotch and dripped down your bottom cheeks.

Just having another intense climax not even a moment later had made everything extra sensitive. You quivered underneath, unable to hold back the deafening cries of pleasure.

Katsuki could feel you trembling underneath him and knew that it was the perfect time to let himself go.

And not even a moment later did the male suddenly feel that unbearably tight tingling sensation in his abdomen, signifying he reached the peak of his org*sm.

Ecstacy flowed through his veins as his member twitched within your walls. His pace slowed as he came, his c*ck spurting out thick hot jets of c*m that pooled within your womb.

He painted your insides white as he pressed his chest against your own and wrapped his arms around your torso. He pressed himself so hard against your frame it was as if he trying to connect your bodies together forever.

The sensation of his release spilling into you felt ever so warm, like a heating pad atop your abdomen where your womb was.

"F*ck baby, you're sucking me dry." His voice was right in your ear, the deep gutturalness of his tone rattling your bones.

He slowed his hips until he was unmoving and still inside of you. He pumped every bit of what he had inside and drove it as deep as he could inside your body.

You hummed softly, releasing his slightly bleeding shoulders whilst you swallowed the saliva in your mouth. It quenched the itchiness in the back of your throat and subdued the uncomfortableness.

Much like your husband's words from earlier that night, his c*ck swelled healthily inside again, and he was quick to switch you into a different position.

You stared at him with wide eyes that quickly fluttered shut with another thrust of his hips.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

The rising and falling of his bare chest were rhythmical, followings its own tune with every subconscious breath he took.

You don't know how long you've observed his peaceful frame, but you desired to memorize every single attribute that was visible.

The faint scent of his cologne wafted into your lungs which you greedily devoured like it was your last breath. With careful and cautious movements, you used the table next to the bed to stand on your feet.

You limped along the wall as you exited the bedroom and ambled weakly to the living room. Your thighs ached, and so did the back of your knees.

It was odd for your legs to hurt not of pain but fatigue, you kind of liked it.

The cool metal of your cane was a sensation you didn't realize you had missed until now. Using its stability to assist in your walking, you made your way to the patio doors where you opened it.

Stepping out into the backyard in the dead of night, cool wind brushed against your skin. Even with your clothes covering your body, goosebumps still rose across your limbs.

You tapped the cane lightly on the wooden porch before resting against the railing. Your thoughts began to swirl, as you remembered something.

How much longer was Esau going to be?

Even if you had somewhat reconciled with your husband, nothing was going to be the same anymore. You still held love for him within your shrunken heart, but it wasn't like it was before.

It just wasn't the same.

You couldn't kiss him without remembering how your lips spewed hate and war. You couldn't continue to touch him with your tainted hands of blood and crimes.

As ironic as it was, Katsuki was purer than you could ever be, and to even be around him felt wrong. He wasn't part of your world anymore and you could never be part of his.

You made it your life's goal to make everyone else feel your pain, whether it was them disabling too or killing them with no remorse.

How could you stay with Katsuki when he dedicated his life to arresting people like you?

A sigh left your lips, its noise becoming silenced by the howling wind. A creak immediately caught your attention which prompted you to angle your head back to see the source of the bluster.

The sight of his distinguishable ash-blond hair came into view, and you relaxed instantly. "You were snoring fairly loudly; I didn't think you would wake up so soon." You mused, turning the rest of your body, so your back rested against the railing.

Katsuki rolled his vermillion optics with amusement as he stepped forward to your body. His arms wrapped around your waist and held you close to his chest.

You could hear his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body through your clothes. Your face fell upon the contact, your mind just thinking of how repulsive your body was compared to him.

In the midst of your l*stful and almost drunken haze, you didn't have the ability to stop his tender, intimate touches.

Your hands rested on his chest as you attempted to pull away. "Katsuki-" The rest of your words were replaced with a gasp.

A searing pain spread through your back, every nerve igniting on fire. You glanced down with jerking movements; the tip of something pointed peaked out scarcely from your chest.

The heat of your heavily bleeding wound was slowly starting to dissipate and replace with a numbing coldness.

A trail of the same metallic liquid trickled down from the corner of your lips. Glancing up with the same jerking movements, you gazed into the hero's glimmering vermillion optics.

"Ah." The sound was barely above the howling wind. "Thank you." You grinned at him so brilliantly it rivaled the stars. "Thank you so much for finally letting me go..."

With the last bit of energy you had, you closed your glossy (e/c) eyes and caressed his warm cheek one last time with your tainted hands.

Katsuki carefully lowered your body onto the wooden porch while removing the weapon he used to take away your miserable life.

He laid your arms across your chest, posing you like an angelic angel as his figure began to shimmer. Where you once thought stood your estranged husband now visibly revealed it was the body of another.

Of Esau.

His earthy brown optics gazed upon your face, a trail of blood following the path of his fingers before he stood to his feet.

Without even batting an eye, he twisted his torso to avoid a powerful blast that split a tree in two behind him.

Almost leisurely, he glanced up and met with the enranged face of the Hero Dynamight.

"You, what did you do to (Y/n)!?" He bellowed, hands flaring in color as he readied himself to attack again.

The young man simply directed his attention back down to your frame. "You weren't going to give her what she wanted, so I decided to do it for you." He replied cooly.

Katsuki shot his body forward, his palms blasting explosions. "That wasn't your f*cking decision to make!"

Esau elegantly twisted away with refined movements, and he held his hands out, one of them clutching your black cane.

"This was her wish, to be reunited with Nadine and Zahir by your own hands."

At that very moment, Katsuki Bakugo realized that he had once again lost his first and last love. Only this time, you wouldn't ever come back to him again.

꧁𓊈𒆜 ━━━━━━━━━ 𒆜𓊉꧂

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erithel · 3 years ago

Note

I know the topic of Krolia has already been brought up, but I kind of want to touch on it again, if you’re interested. (Disclaimer: I haven’t watched the show in a year.)

I like her, but at the same time, I don’t.

On one hand, she’s really cool – she’s this bamf, strong, good-looking, stoic woman who is also kindhearted and compassionate – like DAMN mamma Kogane knows what’s up! But on the other hand, she’s… a terrible mom. I think that her time with Keith didn’t do anything good for his other relationships, and that it most likely hurt his character growth and ironically made him more isolated. Sure, he “matured”, but he lost his spark in doing so. As an adult myself, I don’t believe that maturing and becoming a responsible adult means sacrificing that spark, but I digress…

She was an absentee mother who chose her mission over her family. And while that’s honourable and probably the “right” thing to do in the context of an endless intergalactic war, I don’t think that a child would forgive that so easily, let alone choose to follow in her footsteps and become a carbon copy of her. Keith suffered a lot of trauma as a kid, partially due to her choices, and has lingering abandonment issues as a result. If anything, I feel like the natural reaction for him would have been to resent her.

I don’t know if you’ve watched Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, but I liked how Josuke’s relationship to his father was handled. When he meets his dad for the first time, the audience can clearly see his mixed feelings – anger, resentment, anticipation, shyness – and there’s an entire episode dedicated to these two strangers trying to get over their complicated feelings and form a semblance of a bond. Afterwards, it feels like they both decide to just keep trying to be a father and a son, instead of speedrunning to this loving, familial bond.

The space whale was Voltron’s attempt at that, and I think we can all agree that that was a huge mistake and lazy writing. But even if there had been no space whale, I don’t think that would have made it better. I kind of wish Keith had chosen not to forgive her for leaving, and that he’d given her back the luxite blade she left him. I know it seems like a dramatic gesture, but it would have told the audience that we are more than our blood and our past. It would have symbolized him choosing to take control of his own destiny. It would have also told the audience that sometimes, it’s OK not to forgive those who hurt you and that you can still move on. That family can be found… not literally, but figuratively. What he was looking for was right there all along.

The best scenario for me? That, once the war is over and all is said and done, Keith finally accepts to give Krolia a chance. I would have simply left that relationship open-ended for the audience to interpret as they want.

I feel like maybe we brushed on Krolia, but never really delved into anything yet, at least not to this degree.

But I agree. With basically everything you've said here. (Although unfortunately I have not watched Jojo's Bizarre Adventure because…well, honestly I just really don't like the art style and it's super distracting).

Here's the thing about Krolia.

She embodies one of my least favorite tropes in a weird sort of way.

Did you ever read a book or a series and then got really excited because you found out the author was writing a new series set in the same world with the same characters, just a couple years in the future? I used to get excited for that, until I found out that apparently it's a sure thing that if the main character from the original series you grew to know and love has children in the following series…they are 100% guaranteed to be the person with the absolute least maternal/paternal nature in existence. I despise that trope, because it devalues that original character by turning them into someone who abandons/ignores/never has time for their kids. And that's not a role model.

In a weird way Krolia fits the bill as if she had been the main character of a series prior to VLD, and now she was returning as Keith's estranged mom who was never really meant to be a parent in the first place.

And, well…

sigh…

Some people are not meant to be parents, just as much as some people are.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.

But back to the subject at hand, Krolia was never mother material.

But the one thing I always appreciated about her was that she was consistent. They never wrote her as maternal. She didn't swoop in and immediately become a housewife and a mom. She was a spy and a warrior, and that's what she was always going to be. And I can appreciate that her leaving Keith was a very in character decision for her.

And honestly would Keith's life have been better if she had stayed? Knowing what we know of Krolia and how she was as a person…is that what Keith would have needed growing up? Would it have even made a difference?

I think the one thing we can all agree on, though, is that we wish we could have seen any kind of interaction or conversation with Keith and Krolia on the space whale. We wish we could have seen them actually talking it out and experiencing the memories together in the Quantum Abyss – learning about each other, and their lives apart.

And yes, a huge part of that should have been Keith's journey to (potentially begrudging) acceptance.

Should he have forgiven her for her abandonment? No. It literally was the root of all his issues and insecurities. But could he have come to an understanding on why she did what she did, as he slowly learned who she was as a person? That's definitely possible, and would have been better for character development.

That kind of journey would have been great for Keith because it would have been focused on self acceptance – and also, like you put so well, anon – it could have lead to the idea that he could decide who he considered family. He could make his own family (with blackjack and hookers), and he could be his own person. Just as Krolia was very much her own person.

What anon said here is very good and well put, so I'm going to leave my own response at that (especially before I get onto a…relevant tangent…). But I am gonna link this here, because I adore this fic, and it does a very good job at Krolia's character and her own journey of sorts. It's definitely worth a read, if you haven't read it already:

Due West by europa–report

#erithel's hot takes #series critique #voltron legendary defender #krolia #keith kogane

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yanderechuu · 3 years ago

Text

Shower Thoughts

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3.2K]

Summary: Momo wasn’t as trustable as you had presumed.

Warning: Larceny, nonconsensual touching, masturbation

│

You used to spend roughly ten minutes in the shower, only ever needing to soak your body in the water, apply shampoo and body wash before rinsing all the foam of products from your skin and scalp. Shower thoughts simply consisted of the day’s agenda or any special occurrence that had happened the past week, never really drifting off to existential questions and dark notions that would keep you from leaving the bathroom later than usual. You neither necessarily liked taking a shower nor did you dread it, as to you it was only ever a mandatory routine of the day which you handled with a neutral mind.

But now, ten minutes were already a slow thirty, and majority of the time you bothered not to move your arms to make work of your hair, or lather your skin with soap as you normally would do had it not been for the questions plaguing your mind like how your classmates would terrorize your time and space.

Right, your classmates - who would spend every hour of the day with you as if they didn’t have anything better to do. As if you were an important subject of matter next to hero training. You never appreciated it, because from the start, you did not want to have anything do to with them. They smothered and coddled you as if air wasn’t that important to you, disregarding the way you felt about personal space, how it was very significant to you. Rare were the moments of peace as a few of them were always by your side, ‘ensuring your safety’ as they would like to quote it. Why ensure your safety? You had not been a prominent figure in the sports festival, neither did you have a quirk that could be of great utility for the villains unlike Bakugou or Tokoyami. You weren’t a problem child, either. Their justification of following you around like you were some sort of high-maintenance prisoner made no sturdy sense to you.

“There’s this new package of green tea my mother had sent me this week! Would you like to try it, (y/n)?”

“Sure.”

But if you had to choose among your classmates one whom you would tolerate for the following years you’d be in U.A., that would be Yaoyorozu Momo. She was kind and considerate, often determining your feelings before you could voice it out (not that you really had the courage to, most of the time). She was organized and pristine and never had you met someone more befitting for the definition of ‘mom friend’ than her. She was perfect in nearly every way, and even though you’d have the occasional pang of jealousy at some times her perfectionism was displayed (gender envy, isn’t it, (y/n)?), she never seemed to bear mal intent, so you would let the emotions slide. You’d see the galaxy in her eyes if you would stare long enough. Her tea was best substitute for coffee, too.

You never considered her more than a very great friend, though, and to her, that was a problem.

As you sauntered your way over to your dorm with her, you shuffled your bag to take your room key buried in the side pockets. “I’ll go down in a while, but you better make sure you’re in the common room before me.”

You wouldn’t allow your classmates to take advantage of your lone self simply because Momo wasn’t there to fend them off.

“Mhm! Lemon green tea as usual, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks again, YaoMomo.”

Your use of sotto voce tone on her nickname gave a pleasant shiver down her spine; her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head had she not restrained herself. Having been always kept to yourself, you never felt the need to adjust your volume for others to hear properly, so oftentimes your voice came out in a whisper - not that she minded, of course. You sounded more sensual that way.

“Are you going to take a while or will I have to brew tea right away?”

“Training was more strenuous than usual, and my muscles can’t seem to relax,” you explained, “so I’m going to take a quick shower.”

From your peripheral vision as you were focused on your bag to fish out the key, you saw Momo’s jaw slack upon hearing your plan to take a bath. It was odd, but you didn’t give particular attention to it when you finally took out your desired item. You failed to notice the way she abruptly settled her gaze on the key, inspecting it as if she was deliberating its shape, form, and material, and installing it to memory.

“Oh- oh!” She exclaimed. “I do remember having some body wash that help soothe muscle strains and body aches. I can hand them to you if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “You’re too kind, YaoMomo. But I think just hot water will do for me.”

She watched as you opened the door to your room, giving her one more smile before disappearing inside and locking the door with a distinct click. As soon as you did so, she pulled the sleeve of her wrist up, developing with her body lipids a key the exact copy of the one you had held.

You certainly lied when you had said you were going to take a ‘quick’ shower. Already ten minutes into it did you only decide to sleek yourself with liquid body soap, initially absentmindedly rubbing it on your body, before you gradually got rougher with your movements and soon you found yourself scuffing your own flesh with vehement motion.

They were excessively touchy again, your classmates. Denki got too close to your face while delivering a pick-up line that made you wish you didn’t exist in order to hear it, and upon nearing you did Bakugou pull you away from him, cursing at him to buzz off. He took his time feeling up your waist - the part he used to grab you - while at it. During lunch, as you were once again coerced into joining his group to the cafeteria, Izuku refused to let go of your hand as you walked, and Uraraka as adamant with hugging you by the hips with one arm. It was what girlfriends did, she said, and you were not entirely sure whether or not she referred to that word romantically.

And if not, then did girlfriends also normally touch the parts of which you did not want to be touched on? You felt, clear as day, a bare hand resting on your thigh when you sat on your usual spot, dangerously close to lifting your skirt for everyone to see, and when you gave Hagakure’s faceless face a questioning look, she asked you what was wrong. Her uniform sleeve was literally floating on top of your lap, and still she had the gall to pretend as if she was not touching you with lacking consent.

You were not safe from Shoto, either, when he offered to readjust your uniform tie and you were in no place to decline (you had the right to, but they just stripped you off of it), his breath hitching in ecstasy as his fingers brushed your chest; he was, audaciously enough, not hiding his bliss. Then he rubbed your shoulders to ‘warm you up,’ when all he really intended to do was motivate his own fantasy that you were his and he was simply scenting you like some fucking alpha to his omega.

You turned no blind eye to their gesticulations. You never once found it endearing, and wished they would stop with whatever the hell this was called, because you were quite sure this was past the border of molestation and could already be rendered a form of bullying.

But not once did you consider the possibility of having a class obsessed with your quaint self.

So you supposed that until you’d find a way to deduce their idiosyncratic actions and tendencies then you would have to make do with your own bathroom as your safe space. Momo was the only classmate you could confide to, so at least she was there.

Unfortunately, you had yet to see the other side of her coin.

Because as she was just right outside your bathroom door, obsessively taking in every bit of item you owned inside your dorm room like a madman, you were left with the impression that she was all you could ever ask for in a friend. You didn’t know how she was not any better than the rest of your classmates, adoring your very existence to the extent of insanity; how she’d crave for you so often and so terribly that she’d feel herself clench when you do so much as merely spare her a glance. And you had done that a lot today - she would have to relieve herself for it.

She spotted the heap of clothes right by your bed; it became apparent that you had stripped yourself off of it before entering the bathroom and taking a shower. Walking towards it, a portion of your seamless underwear came to view, and she resisted the urge to render into a mound of horniness in order to pick it up and inspect it closely.

It was a lighter color of (s/c). A plain, simple, modest undergarment item, still it evoked a particular feeling on the bottom center of Momo’s hips. The heat came rushing along her midriff and instigated the muscle of her legs to falter, and as soon as she felt it, a hand of hers drifted past her skirt, feeling up the slick accumulated on the fabric of her own panties only with the knowledge that your panties were currently in her possession. She needed release, but you were nearly finished with your bath, and she was still inside your room.

You walked out of the shower the moment she shut the door of your bedroom. You saw it closed, but you didn’t catch the culprit.

This unnerved you to no end. Undoubtedly, you thought, this had to be one of your classmates. Who else was it supposed to be? Aizawa-sensei (...)? You had yet to know their ultimatum, but you were sure this occurrence was another one of their schemes. You had assumed that all their weird, unappreciated antics were just to get you to socialize with them, but now you didn’t understand why it had gotten to the point of entering your room without permission.

You couldn’t keep this to yourself.

So you planned to bring it up to Momo, a representative of your class and someone whom you deemed trustable enough to share it with. Quickly, you dressed into your casual indoor attire, and rushed outside your room to head to the kitchen, where you presumed she’d be in the process of making your tea. But she wasn’t there.

Instead, she was in her own room, your panties muzzled right into her face and her own fingers buried deeply inside her cunt.

“Oh- oh, god- Ah! (Y/n)!”

Oh god, your panties. Oh god, your panties. The object most intimate to your parts of intimacy, soaking every bit of womanly secretion from your genitalia. Of all the masturbation sessions she had done to the thought of you, this was the hottest. She wasn’t quite sure whether to imagine your cunt on her lips in a position of mutual cunnilingus or your fingers thrusting into her in place of hers. She wanted both.

A whine slipped past her lips. To think that moments ago, she was in the same space as you were nude. Oh, to join you in the bathroom, doing inenarrable things to each other with the use of the showerhead. To touch your skin selfishly rather than only watch as she would do during class hours.

She came with a squeal, falling face-down to bite the duvet of her large bed. Gone in her hazy mind was her promise to you of lemon green tea, and as she still basked in the pathological euphoria of getting off, you were in the common room, anxiously waiting for her return.

But just as you had expected, someone was bound to spot you alone and take this as an opportunity to be with you, and they just so happened to be-

Oh. Aoyama.

He offered you a slice of cheese with his usual grin before settling down a few feet beside you, enough to leave you be in your personal bubble. You gave him occasional glances, unwrapping the cheese from its casing and he just sat there, eating his. He was alright, you guessed - another tolerable classmate of yours next to Momo. Perhaps it was because you used to always be alone in the classroom with him during break time that you were at ease with his presence. Or maybe he just seemed so gay and that, for some reason, comforted you. One gay presence could comfort another lol.

“It’s delicious.” Your comment came out inadvertently.

“Oui. Only the best quality for the best person.” He flaunted.

You weren’t exactly sure whether he was referring to you or to himself, but you paid little attention to that as the cheese was certainly delicious; you were not lying.

“It’s odd how your chose to take a bath at this time of the day.” He spoke.

You stopped chewing.

He meant to refer to your damp hair, but having just suspected your class of breaking and entering your room, you thought otherwise.

“I-” You choked on the cheese, ending up needing to gulp it like liquid content instead of breaking it down to fit your throat.

Immediately, he sprang up in concern, stepping over to you to gently thump you on the back. “Are you alright?”

“No- I mean- I just-!” You wheezed, occasionally having to clear your throat. You swatted his hand away from you; you hadn’t meant to appear rude, but you did. You stood up in a rush. “L-look, I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to drink water?”

“I’m- fine,”

With your words, you took off from the common room area and headed back to your room. There were two sets of emotions that mixed to form the bile in your throat. One was wrath and humiliation upon the discovery of Aoyama’s actions. The other was betrayal and confusion from Momo’s absence when she had said she’d be brewing tea for you, and it wasn’t the tea that disheartened you. She knew of your issue with the class, and if she were busy, couldn’t she have texted you a heads-up?

She shouldn’t be surprised when at the next time she saw you, you interacted with her less. Your intention to distance yourself from her was most prominent, and it didn’t help that your classmates took notice of this, because now they were taking advantage of the situation, tagging you along with them in spite of your futile attempts to decline now that Momo was nowhere to tell them off. When she’d talk to you, you would answer, though your voice was back to speaking to her like she was a stranger.

Resentment was stronger than ruing the lack of intimacy between you two. It was as if she had received your panties in exchange for the time she’d be spending with you, oddly enough. After much deliberation, she came to realize that this was your little ‘tantrum’ after not being able to meet with her the other day.

It was pretty cute, she thought, that you’d try and make her acknowledge the fault on her part by ignoring her.

You didn’t walk with her back to dorms as per usual that dismissal. Instead, just like what you had used to do before finding consolation in her, you walked alone, accomplishing being able to avoid your classmates as you did. By the time she reached the dorms, you were in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water to satiate your throat. She took a hold of your wrist before you went back to your room.

“(Y/n),” she pleaded, “tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked at her with a reluctant expression. Perhaps you should. After the short while that you had been hanging out with her, her presence turned into something you came to miss. You wanted her back, but not in the way she wanted you.

“I-it’s just,” you stammered out, “y-you know how I feel being alone in the common room without you. I... I’m not comfortable with our classmates when you’re not around.” She took pride in this. “I don’t take it lightly how you left me alone the other day...”

Your voice faltered out the longer you spoke.

So she was correct; you were certainly having your little ‘tantrum.’ With a guilty smile, she left your wrist to hold your hand tenderly, and suddenly it dawned upon you the feeling of whenever Bakugou held your waist, Shoto nuzzled his face on your neck or Izuku invaded your personal space.

Fear and apprehension.

Before you could preach your objection to whatever she had planned ahead for you, she dragged you along with her and you both reached her dorm room before you could comprehend where she was taking you.

“I’ll make it up to you.” She said, making you sit on her large bed.

Then she proceeded to make you tea, boiling water with an electric kettle situated on top of her study desk; there also laid a tea set next to her three books, which you assumed were those of which would aid her in the utility of her quirk, like encyclopedias. Beside those was a piece of cloth, unfolded, unkept - a (s/c)-colored silk fabric.

Your face drained of color.

She pushed the books towards the cloth, completely obscuring it from your view and leaving the table disorganized. You knew Momo, neat and orderly as much as possible; she wouldn’t do that without reason.

Now that you thought about it, the same day someone had barged in your room, your underwear had been missing from your set of laundry garments. You spent the next whole day actively avoiding Aoyama, thinking he was the culprit to this felony. At the present moment you were reconsidering your allegation.

“U-um, Momo, I need to go-”

“Here!”

She yelled it so giddily, so uncharacteristically, as she pushed the cup of tea towards your way. How she did so was very quick that you had not the time to take it properly, and steaming liquid fell to your décolletage, past the cotton of your uniform and streaming down the valley of your breasts. It was a moist mess. She loved every bit of it.

“Oh! Oh, my bad. I’ll- I’ll clean you up!” She exclaimed, all flushed and excited.

You didn’t find it in you to push her back when she began to do exactly what she had said, taking your blazer off, loosening your school tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath, only ever being able to stare at her with eyes that evinced betrayal, because it slowly occurred to you that she was satiating her own selfish obsession with you all under the ruse of maintaining a decent friendship.

“(Y/n),” She breathed out, “I adore you.”

She was no different than the rest of your classmates, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

#bnha x reader #bnha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #yandere x reader #yandere class 1a #class 1a x reader #reader insert #x reader #yandere bnha #momo yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #momo x y/n #yandere #yandere momo yaoyorozu #yandere momo #yanderechuu

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hxseok-honee · 4 years ago

Text

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #park jimin #jimin x reader

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tanzaniiite · 4 years ago

Text

CHANCE • SINGLE DAD DAICHI

requests: CLOSED

warnings: none!

word count: 1.9k

series masterlist

a/n: can you tell i like single parent aus?

*chanting* single dad daichi, single dad daichi, single dad daic–

“You’re not my dad”

“No, I’m not”

“My dad’s a cop so if you’re thinking about kidnapping me, I suggest you think again“

You laughed at the twelve-year-old’s words. Daichi was right, she was a fireball. “I know, I’m a.. friend of your dad’s. He got caught up at work and asked me to pick you up” You explained, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. The pre-teen raised an eyebrow, “A friend of my dad? Lady, that’s the oldest trick in the book, you need to step up your game if you wanna kidnap a kid in this lifetime” She claimed, crossing her arms over her chest. You laughed some more, covering your mouth with your hand, at least she was being cautious.

“Okay, it’s good you don’t trust me but here’s why you should. I’m a good friend of your dad, Daichi Sawamura. And because he got caught up at the station, he wanted me to swing by and pick you, Suzuki Sawamura, up from school” You explained using the keywords your boyfriend instructed you to use. Suzuki stared at you for a while before shrugging, “Okay, you’re good” She said before hopping into your car. Letting out a relieved sigh, you shot Daichi a quick text.

You put your phone in your pocket before getting into the driver’s seat. “You ready to go?” You asked looking at Suzuki through the rear-view mirror. She shrugged, “I guess,” She said clicking her seatbelt into place. The ride back to Daichi’s place was quiet and albeit awkward. Honestly, this wasn’t how you pictured meeting your boyfriend’s daughter for the first time. Sneaking a glance in the rear-view mirror again, you saw here tapping away at her phone, not paying attention to her surroundings. You mentally rolled your eyes, typical kid behavior, can’t say you’re surprised.

What did surprise you, was her speaking up out of nowhere. “What are you to my dad?” She inquired catching your eye in the mirror. “Well I’m a good friend of his, we went to high school together. So I’ve known him for a long time” You stated diverting your eyes back to the road. You weren’t sure if Daichi has told Suzuki the two of you were dating but you wanted to play it safe, just in case he hasn’t. However, the pre-teen didn’t look convinced. “How come he doesn’t talk about you then?” She pressed. You bit your lip, not gonna lie, that stung. Does Daichi not talk about you or was she just trying to get a rise out of you? Your boyfriend did say she was mischievous like that.

“Probably because we fell out of touch after high school and recently reconnected about a year or so ago. And does your dad let you in on everything about his life?” You asked rhetorically. Suzuki looked slightly taken aback by your comment but quickly recovered. She shot you a slight glare before turning to look out the window. Shit. You prayed you didn’t fuck that up. The last thing you needed was for Daichi’s daughter to not like you. Especially because you wanted to get to know her and get closer to her.

Reaching Daichi’s place, you parked your car in the driveway and before you could even unbuckle your seatbelt, Suzuki got out of the car. You watched as she used her own set of keys to open the door and close it behind her. Yeah, she was upset. Fuckkkkk. Pulling out your phone, you texted your boyfriend.

You groaned, slamming your head against the steering wheel. What a great first impression on your boyfriend’s daughter! Lifting your head from the wheel, you slapped your cheeks a few times. The only thing you could do now is make amends. Getting out of the car you made your way to the door only to find it was locked. You let out an exasperated sigh, you deserved that. Digging out your copy of the keys, you opened the door to find Suzuki at the dining table doing what looked like homework.

She didn’t even bother sparing you a glance as you came in and locked the door behind you. This was going to be difficult. You placed your bag on the couch and made your way to the dining room. Sitting in the chair next to her, you decided to break the uncomfortable silence. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened in the car... I’m sure your dad tells you plenty about his life” You reassured fiddling with your hands nervously. Suzuki glanced up at you, “No. You’re right, my dad doesn’t tell me much. He used to but not anymore” She murmured going back to her homework. Oh? Now you were intrigued.

“What’d you mean?” You inquired placing your arms on the table. The brunette sighed and placed her pencil down, “After my mom and dad split up, my dad was in a bad place. He didn’t get abusive or anything, he was just… sad. Like all the time. And I guess he would sort of confide in me because we were in a similar situation. He lost a partner, I kind of lost my mom. And I got used to that, now he doesn’t tell me anything.” She huffed, “The worst part is that I know he’s hiding something from me. But I don’t know what, I wish he’d just tell me” Suzuki explained glaring down at the table. Suddenly you felt kind of bad. Daichi didn’t tell her about you because he most likely didn’t want to upset her as well as make sure your relationship was solid before introducing a new woman into his daughter’s life.

You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Alright enough talk about your dad, I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready. But for now, let’s do something fun” You suggested. Suzuki raised an eyebrow at you, “Something fun? Like what?” She asked confusion laced in her tone. You smirked slightly,

“I’m glad you asked”

Daichi sighed as he parked his car behind yours in the driveway. He wanted you and Suzuki to get along. Ever since he and Michimiya split, she hasn’t had a stable mother figure in her life. Sure, Yui got her every other weekend and on holidays but he had sole custody so that wasn’t exactly stable. Hopefully, the two of you could get along because, to be honest, Daichi loves you. And deep down he feels like he’s always had, even back in high school.

Opening the door, Daichi was surprised to hear… giggling. Based on what you texted him earlier, his daughter didn’t seem like she was in a giggling mood. Then again, that was almost two hours ago. Taking off his jacket and shoes, Daichi made his way to the bathroom, the source of the giggling. He stopped in his tracks as he saw you and Suzuki sitting on the floor, doing what looked like some sort of spa activity.

“—and can you believe he tried to convince the coach he was perfectly fine? After taking a dive like that and not going to the infirmary?”

“That does sound like my dad”

Suzuki stated before gasping. “My mask is dripping!” She exclaimed trying to push the homemade avocado face mask back into place. “Wait wait, let me do it. You’re going to mess up your nails” You stated moving her hands away and fixing the mask yourself. “There. Trying tilting your head back a bit so it doesn’t drip as much” You advised, demonstrating what you meant. Suzuki nodded, following your instructions. As she tilted her head back she saw her dad standing in the doorway with a wide smile on his face.

“Oh, hey dad” She greeted waving slightly. Daichi just smiled more, “Hey pumpkin, having fun?” He asked. Turning to face him properly she nodded, “Yeah, your friend is really fun” She claimed, smiling slightly. Daichi’s gaze drifted to you once you spoke, “You’re only saying that because I told you some of your dad’s embarrassing high school stories” You laughed. Hearing that made Daichi’s smile faltered a bit, “You told her embarrassing stories about me? How am I ever going to get my rep as a cool dad back?” He asked rhetorically.

“Dad, to be honest, you never had that rep to begin with”

Suzuki stated, blowing on her nails to dry them. This caused you to burst out into laughter with Suzuki following suit. Daichi couldn’t help but chuckle, he was glad the two of you patched things up. “Haha. Y/n can I speak to you for a minute?” He asked nodding his head to the kitchen. You cleared your throat and nodded, “Sure. Aw man, Suzuki you got me in trouble” You teased getting up and dusting off your pants. The twelve-year-old giggled, “Sorry” She apologized as you and Daichi moved to the kitchen.

Once he made sure Suzuki was out of earshot, Daichi pulled you close to him and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “Glad to see you guys made up” He whispered. You shrugged slightly, “It wasn’t anything serious, plus there’s nothing a face mask can’t fix” You claimed. “Yeah well, it seems like she likes you” Your boyfriend stated. You looked up at him, “You think so?” You asked. Daichi smiled slightly and kissed your forehead, “I know so” He claimed. You smiled and embraced him, nuzzling your face in his chest. Sawamura hugged you back. The two of you stayed like that until you heard someone clear their throat.

“Do you kiss and embrace all your friends, dad? I gotta tell Uncle Koshi and Azu what they’re missing”

Suzuki said standing at the entrance of the kitchen. You and Daichi pulled away quickly and stared at the pre-teen. “Um.. pumpkin–” Daichi started, only to be interrupted by Suzuki raising her hand. “I already know, I’m not dumb dad. You don’t have any regular girl friends except for Aunt Shimizu” She explained crossing her arms. The brunette chuckled shaking his head, “Nothing gets past you huh?” He asked rhetorically, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “Nope!” She exclaimed smiling brightly. You could only stand back and watch your boyfriend interact with his child, he was a good dad.

“So since you know, what do think of Y/n?”

“She’s nice.. nicer than mom. You should keep her”

Suzuki said, causing you to smile slightly. You weren’t exactly the biggest fan of Michimiya back in high school and especially after you found out what she did to Daichi. So to hear you were nicer than her from her daughter felt good, you can’t lie. Daichi raised an eyebrow, “Oh really? Well, I plan on keeping her around” Daichi stated, smiling at you, “what do think about that?” He inquired turning back to his daughter. The twelve-year-old glanced at you,

“Can we do more spa stuff?”

“Absolutely”

“Can you do my nails again?”

“For sure”

“…what about my hair?”

“Suzuki, of course. I want to spend more time with you”

You said moving next to Daichi and bending down in front of her. The pre-teen looked suspicious, “You sure? You’re not just saying that because my dad’s here? Because we’re a package deal. You can’t have him without me. And I’ve been told I’m a handful” Suzuki stated. Daichi snorted while you laughed slightly. “Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry, your dad is a handful too” You said whispering the last part. Suzuki giggled, “Okay fine. My dad seems to like you so I’ll give you a chance”. You smiled and gave Suzuki a fist bump,

“Thank you, a chance is all I ask for”

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

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When the Chips are Down

part 4

masterlist

hello my darlings, You asked for it, and now it’s here. Please enjoy my chaotic ramblings as I dive back into my hectic schedule while also being volunteered for child care!--- chaotic puff

Y/N begrudgingly had to admit that she was in love with the nursery. It was beautiful, warm, comfortable. It wasn’t the nursery she and Mark had made together, but it felt safe even if she knew that nothing was safe while she was in Namjoon’s clutches. It felt like it was hers though. She hadn’t been the one to decorate or set it up, but it was hers. The room was familiar and safe. This was where she had retreated from Namjoon after that horrible night. It was with a sickening feeling to know that that was probably the night that her sweet baby had been conceived. It wasn’t fair to the child. It wasn’t fair to her either.

It was good to like the nursery. She’d be spending a lot of time in it once the baby arrived, probably even before as she tried to avoid namjoon. She knew deep down though that there was no avoiding him. She doubted he’d ever let her out of his sight again or at least not for a very long time. Even now he hovered over her as she fluttered around the nursery. She was nine months pregnant. Did he really think she was going to run? She doubted she could run even if she tried. She moved at a waddle, her belly impeding any sudden or quick movement. She loved her baby, but she was very ready to not be pregnant anymore. The stress of being back and not having Mark with her wasn’t helping anything either. She was liable to bite Namjoon’s head off if she didn’t get some space, but that wasn’t going to happen.

“You need to eat something, jagi.” Namjoon sighed watching as she went through the baby clothes he had prepared.

There wasn’t anything gender specific. He’d arrange for her to pick things once they knew what they were having, but gender neutral outfits would work well for a newborn. His research and Yoongi’s wife had informed him how many outfits a newborn baby could go through in a day.

“I’m not hungry.” she grumbled, releasing a sigh of her own.

“You need to eat.”

“She might be nauseous.” a new voice called from the door to the nursery.

She turned to find Yoongi and a woman she didn’t know standing in the doorway. Even more surprising was the fact that the woman was holding a baby, a baby that looked unnervingly like Yoongi.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Namjoon smiled, tiredly ignoring the guarded look that Sen gave him.

“You called us.” Yoongi grumbled. “Something about bonding and babies.”

Y/N looked to Namjoon, completely unimpressed by the fact he had essentially arranged a playdate for her, but it would admittedly be nice to have another woman to talk to other than Miss In. The maids were all terrified of her as Namjoon’s wife.

“Shoo.” The woman growled shifting the baby on her hip. “Leave the ladies to talk.”

“She needs…”

“I think I know a little more about pregnant women than you do, sajangnim.” She smiled sweetly, though the expression lacked any sincerity. Y/N could tell immediately that she was going to like this woman. “Yoongi.”

The man held up his hands in surrender, dragging out a protesting Namjoon so that the two women could get acquainted.

“I’m Sen. Yoongi’s wife.” she introduced herself keeping a little distance between herself and the other woman for both of their comfort.

“I didn’t know that Yoongi got married.”

“How could you? You weren’t here.” Y/N flinched a little at that, but Sen was quick to correct herself. “Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I admire you for making it out. No one else would have the guts. Namjoon is one scary mother fucker.” Y/N had to laugh at that. “Doing what you did takes some balls.”

“Still ended up back here.”

“You did better than I did.”

Y/N froze staring at the other woman with wide eyes. “You escaped?”

“I wouldn’t say escaped so much as left. Yoongi and I weren’t together. I was one of Jimin’s girls. I left when I realized I was pregnant. Yoongi showed up at the hospital right after this little guy was born.”

“Yoongi’s?”

“Not like he would allow me to see anyone else, possessive bastard.”

“Seems to be a running trend here.”

“Come on.” Sen laughed, taking a step towards her. “You should sit down. That baby has to be giving you some back pain by now.”

“You have no idea.” She groaned, sinking down into the rocking chair again. “How old is he?”

“Three months. His name’s Yoonho.”

“He’s cute.”

“Want to hold him?” Sen offered practically shoving the baby into her arms. “I’m desperate for someone else to hold the little bugger. Yoongi is possessive, but you’d think the baby was a bomb with the way he treats him.”

“He doesn’t seem like a baby person.”

“He’s not.” Sen laughed as Y/N settled little Yoonho against her bump.

She had to admit the kid was adorable, chubby in the most delicious way, like a little dumpling. He had dark hair that stuck up at odd angles, and she was in love. It could have been the hormones running through her system, but she was completely enamored with the little guy.

“How do you do it?” She asked, her voice soft and unsure. “How do you raise a baby in all this?”

“You do the best you can. No one asks for this, but at least it comes with some very luxurious settings.”

Y/N smiled a little. It was true that Namjoon provided a very gilded cage. The nursery was proof of that. Everything was arranged to make her life comfortable, even if she was anything but, and looking down at Yoonho she was reminded she wouldn’t be alone in this soon. She was going to have a little one of her own to look after, to protect from all of this.

Part of her wished that she was having a boy. There’d be no pressure to have another baby with Namjoon. A greater part of her wished that it would be a girl. She didn’t want to give her tormentor the heir he needed. It was a patriarchy after all. He needed a boy, and she didn’t want to give that to him. She didn’t want to give him any children, but it was too late for that. In a few short weeks there was going to be a baby whether she wanted it to be Namjoon’s or not.

Sen observed the other woman for a moment, watching the melancholy drift over her features from her seat on the floor. There were other chairs, but the floor seemed like the best option for when Yoonho decided he was going to be fussy and wanted floor time. “You okay?”

“Not really.” She answered with a shaky smile. “He’s adorable.”

“You won’t say that when he’s crying.”

“You were one of Jimin’s girls?” she asked curiously, desperate to get the focus off of her and her life.

“I was working off my mom’s debt. Stayed because it paid well.” She shrugged. “I was always planning on leaving, but he sped up my time table.” Y/N nodded understandingly practically melting as the baby cooed up at her. “Apparently up and leaving with one of the big seven’s babies is frowned upon.”

“Apparently.”

She wasn’t naïve enough to notice the similarities in their stories. They had both been thrust into this life, for different reasons, and they had both tried to leave, unsuccessfully so. She was honestly surprised that Namjoon had allowed them to be alone together, but he had probably only been thinking of the baby side of things and not the scheming wife side of it.

“It gets better.” Sen offered only to be met with a disbelieving look from the other woman. “It does.”

“You just have to be their doll.”

“No one said it was easy, but there are things you have to do for your family.”

“He’s killed my family.”

“Not the baby.”

“I’m terrified it’s going to be a boy, that I’m going to bring a little Namjoon into the world.”

Sen nodded understandingly. “You’ll love that baby regardless. Even if that baby is Namjoon’s carbon copy, it’s still yours too. You get to raise it.”

“It feels like he’s won. He’s taken everything.”

Sen sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to find the words to say. “You still have your baby, and despite everything, you have Namjoon’s ear. You can use that. Do you know how hard he worked to find you? We were honestly all a little scared of him.”

“We?”

“The other girls.”

A choked sound of surprise left her at that. She was stunned. Namjoon was going to hold her escape against her. He was going to hold Mark against her, but he had gone to see Jimin’s girls in her absence. It was horribly and hilariously hypocritical.

“The other girls.”

“No one really wanted to mess with him before you. He’s scary. You know? But after you? He was an absolute nightmare. Those poor girls have probably all breathed a sigh of relief to know that you’re back.”

“They can keep him.”

“After the past few months? They don’t want him.”

“I don’t want him either.” She scoffed bouncing the baby a little as he fussed.

“Then we’re all agreed. We should form a club.”

Y/N couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing, a mix of emotions running through her. Eventually the laughing slowed into tears, which Sen was quick to notice.

She stood up quickly, scooping the baby up with one arm and draping the other comfortingly around the other woman’s shoulders.

“It’s going to be alright.” She promised. “You’re not alone here anymore. We have to look out for each other, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Besides, who else is going to listen to me complain about diapers and gush over baby clothes?” Y/N let out another teary laugh. “Why don’t we go take a walk in the garden? I think we could all use some fresh air.”

---

Namjoon watched from his office window as his wife and Yoongi’s strolled through the garden. They were talking and laughing in a way that was comfortable, familiar, something he hadn’t even seen her display with Jin and Jungkook, and he begrudgingly had to admit that those two were her favorites of the bunch. She was always happier with everyone who wasn’t him. He shouldn’t have been jealous. He knew she needed female friends, but he wanted her to be that comfortable with him.

“If you keep frowning like that your face is going to freeze.” Yoongi drawled from where he was lounging in one of Namjoon’s chairs. “Sit down and relax. You’re gonna miss it after the baby comes. They cry, all the time.” Namjoon didn’t move. “She’s not going to suddenly come running to you because you’re staring at her like a psychopath from the window.”

“I don’t like to be away from her. We were apart too long already.”

Yoongi groaned leaning his head back. “She needs space too. She doesn’t like you.”

“I know that.” Namjoon snapped irritably. He didn’t need to be reminded of his failure to woo his own wife.

“It could get better.” Yoongi offered lazily. “Babies change things. You never know.”

God, Namjoon hoped that was true. He hoped that the baby would soften her to him. He wanted, no needed, them to be a family. He wanted her to smile and laugh with him like she was with Sen in the garden. He wanted it to be the two of them and their own child, maybe even a few more. They had the perfect house for kids. He had the perfect wife. He just needed her to see that.

“How does Sen not chop your head off?”

“I don’t step on her toes, and she doesn’t step on mine.” Yoongi shrugged. “But I’ve known her a long time. She knows me. She may not like me, but we’re comfortable together. Y/N is not comfortable with you.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder?”

“She ran off with another man.”

“And you fucked Jimin’s girls. They’re terrified of you.”

Namjoon growled in frustration, his eyes still fixed on her figure as she continued her walk. They’d both made mistakes. He knew that, and he was willing to forgive her, even if he wouldn’t forgive the man who had taken her away. All that mattered was that she and the baby were home again, with him.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“I guarantee it matters to her.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. It isn’t good for the baby.”

Yoongi scoffed at that, but didn’t say anything more.

---

Several hours later, Sen and Yoongi were due to head home, much to Y/N’s dismay. It was nice to have someone who understood around, but she couldn’t blame the other woman for wanting to go back to her own house, to unwind and relax and settle her baby down for a much needed nap.

Yoongi was visibly smug by how well the two women got along, and Namjoon was hovering, ready to whisk her away for lunch. He was still fixated on the fact she hadn’t eaten any of the breakfast he had had prepared for her.

“I’ll come again soon.” Sen promised, one hand holding Y/N’s. “We can pick some things for the baby.”

“Thank you for coming.” She smiled leaning in to hug the woman goodbye and to coo one last time at the baby.

Namjoon would have been lying to say he didn’t melt at the sight of her interacting with Yoongi’s child. He couldn’t wait for it to be his child she was fussing over. Soon, he reminded himself. He would have this soon.

“Come on.” Yoongi grumbled, gently taking the baby from Sen. “It’s time to go home, and Namjoon looks like he’s going to have an anxiety attack if he doesn’t get Y/N to eat in the next five minutes.”

“Hyung.” Namjoon nodded, relieved to have the visitors leaving so he could have time with his wife.

“It’s going to be okay.” Sen whispered as she gave the other woman a hug. “You have all the power right now. Don’t forget that. He can’t do anything while you’re carrying his child.”

True, but how far could she really push her boundaries before Namjoon pushed back? She didn’t know, but she was planning on finding out.

part 5

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gh0ulbunni · 3 years ago

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Aight bitches, headcanons for my version of the WATXM Cartoon's 'Mortimer Toynbee'

(TW: Death, suicide, depression, mental illness, body horror but it's not that bad)

-The stage we see Mortimer at in the show is most likely him as an 18 - 20 year old, still in the juvenile stages of his mutation as it occurred after the death of his mother Esmerelda. Esmerelda was a kind and meek but busy woman who ultimately died from a stroke caused by high blood pressure. She worked 3 high stress jobs in order to try and keep a roof over her and Mort's heads as his father gave up his rights because he "Didn't want a freak for a son and that he'd never be his son."

-When his mutation actually began to show after her death when he was 3, Mortimer's once ivory skin turned fully green and due to the neglect his hair became matted in chunks (the braids we see in the show), his hygiene dropped to little to no self-care because of the new allergic reactions he'd get when his new sensitive skin came into contact with the naturally chemical loaded body washes, deodorants, shampoo, and tooth pastes that he had. He turned to showering with just water and brushing his teeth with just water, but the water the brotherhood has access to was INCREDIBLY dirty and laced with chemicals that made him sick.

-Mortimer is actually incredibly smart, but others would feel threatened by him when he tried to show this so he mainly acts dumb and stupid as a way to avoid conflict and aggression from people (Specifically Pietro and Dominikos).

-At 22 he finally leaves the brotherhood after being there for 4 years and tries to take his own life only to realize he's developed superhuman durability and a healing factor. This immediately makes him frustrated because he feels he's been punished and forced to live a miserable life.. And in comes Spider-Man who talks him out of trying to jump and takes him to SHIELD.

-After a few days at SHIELD's holding cells he makes a bit of an impression on Fury who offers him a role as an agent. Mortimer, a people pleaser who'll take any chance to climb up the ladder in life, immediately agrees and sets to work training.

-As he trains, his mutation gets stronger and he unlocks more abilities he never thought he could have: Superhuman strength, durability, endurance, agility, senses, special eyesight, chemical and toxin production, flexible bone structure, superhuman lungs, telepathic communication with amphibians, acidic saliva, flaming tongue, and a venomous pheremone secretion that allows for mind control.

-The final step was when he fell extremely ill and it was discovered that his genetic makeup was severely broken due his involvement in an experiment called the Black Womb Project, ran by Charles Xavier's step-father/Juggernaut's father Kurt Marko. This left Mortimer's DNA and mutation severely unstable and it almost caused him to loose control of his new powers and have multiple mental breakdowns and even a manic episode where was on an extreme high before going through psychosis in which he believed Magneto was out to kill him for leaving his son's group.

-After having a hell of a few months, Mortimer is put through a new process called Genetic Rehabilitation designed for mutants who've been forced through experimentation programs and have had their DNA damaged.

-After a while his skin turns from 100% green to 40% green with lots of ivory patches. The tops of his hands, chest, stomach, inside of his legs, and the tops and bottoms of his feet are a pale ivory color while his back, neck, cheek and temples, arms, his sides, and the outsides of his legs are varying shades of soft green with patches of dark green ranging in sizes from small to giant patches on his joints and sockets (shoulders, elbows, knees, and hips) which he's self-concious about at first but comes to love his new look. The most shocking part is his eyes which become black with amber irises that have flicks of lime and gold in them.

-Along with getting therapy for his DNA and body, he gets therapy for his mental health which.. Hoo boy he was and still is strugglin (but not as bad). He has: BPD, C-PTSD, GAD, ODD, and Depression.

-Absolutely loves brushing and caring for his hair, which, after it's unmatted and cleaned of bugs and gunk is ass length and black with a silky shine to it. He still wears his old bandana thing

-Has picked up playing a musical instrument in his spare time. If he isn't working, tinkering with his suit, gear, and gadgets then he's playing... The violin?

-He's suprisingly good at it.

-After becoming a shield agent he starts to get more confidence before meeting a mutant who was currently in SHIELD's custody... Said mutant being the oc of @ohmygillygoshoppler

-Callista and Mortimer become close, he spends lunchbreaks with her, constantly volunteers to be her guard/escort when she's let out.

-Ok so, dad headcanons lETS GO

-Cal and Mort end up having a daughter named after his mom, and her thing is having her mom's monster mouth with mouths on her hands that can shoot out 13ft long flaming tongues. Esme (or Esmerelda) absolutely becomes a rescue hero

-Callie is into clown/circus lolita outfits and Mortimer is a grunge punk. Esme never gets dressed in the basic ass kids clothes, she looks like mini Wednesday Addams.

-This child never gets put down (physically), Mort or Cal are always holding her.

-Mort and Esme are the epitome of "Don't talk to me or my kid ever again" while Esme is copying her dad's glare.

-Alright, Mort's strong.

-Like, really strong. He didn't even know how strong until he was cornered on his first mission as a shield agent and he kicked his enemy with his leg so hard he decapitates them.

-He can kick hard enough to knock down concrete walls, snap people in half, crack and damage paved roads, and create enough air pressure to knock people over.

-His tongue can crush skulls

-He could get hit by a semi-truck and still walk away with a few bruises

-Develops a bite force of 1,000 PSI (Less than a polar bear)

-He bench presses 3 tons with his legs and 1 ton with his arms

-Develops retractable claws that can lengthen and shorten, he uses these to fight.

-Looks like he could kill you, can kill you but has the energy of a golden retriever puppy

-As he ages he becomes more.. Forgiving? Of the people who've hurt him, specifically Pietro. He'll forgive but never forget, it's like when you drop a mug. It won't ever be the same.

-I imagine he fights a lot like how Deku does? The leg based fighting and shoot style is a big part of his fight style.

-Legs for daaaaaaaays, they're so long. Also he's 5'8 now because Toad is canonically 5'8 - 5'10 and he'll hold it over Wolverine while snickering.

#headcanons #xmen headcanon #my headcanons #artists on tumblr #x-men #x men the animated series #x men first class #x men rp #marvel #character design #mortimer toynbee #this can also go for Todd too #todd tolansky #x-men toad #the brotherhood of evil mutants

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 5 years ago

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The Sight of You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s disturbing dreams about his childhood bring him back to Las Vegas to face two of his childhood’s greatest enemies: his estranged father and his ex best friend.

AN: it’s a friends to enemies to lovers fic! Set in the episode “Memoriam” 4x07

Content Warnings: usual Criminal Minds stuff, mentions of child death, childhood trauma, descriptions of a dead body. Let me know if I missed anything!

Despite seeing Spencer around Pre-k, Y/N did not trot over to talk to him with their brightly coloured rucksack swinging vigorously and violently behind them. They walked faster instead once their parents had dropped them off. Spencer did his best to catch up to Y/N but lost them around the corner in the sea of students seeking their next class. He was meant to be one of them. Adjusting his glasses as they slipped down his nose, Spencer noted that he needed a new prescription before entering his own class and preparing to focus on a subject he was already well-versed in.

It was lunch time when Spencer finally found Y/N. They were sitting at the furthest end of the table in the canteen. But Y/N cowered away from him, his shoulders drawn up defensively.

“Are you OK, Y/N?” Spencer asked before getting to what was more significant to him: “Do you know when you will be free to play again?”

The next sentence out of Y/N’s mouth stung like a nettle. They stood up, their face contorted in their fit, and they pushed Spencer hard on the shoulders.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!” They cried.

They went silent when Spencer was laughed at by those who heard what was said. Just grabbed their lunch and moved away, leaving Spencer spellbound in the middle of the canteen, heartbroken and with a new opening for a potential chess partner. Maybe that man they saw last week at the park would be kind enough to join him again.

But there was no replacement for Y/N, who now never said a word when they caught a glimpse of Spencer being bullied – only dithering about on the spot before fleeing the scene moments before a teacher would show up.

Spencer was hurt; that hurt warped into hatred when he was next out with his mother and father. They were at the shopping mall and had just bought Spencer his new glasses. Going down the escalator, he saw Y/N. They were smiling and skipping between their parents, a new pair of shoes shiny on their feet.

The second they spotted the Reids, Y/N ducked behind their parents. Spencer could still see their face: brow furrowed, eyes squinting, hands shaking now that nothing was holding them. Their parents didn’t seem to notice. They kept talking and walking even as Y/N stopped in time with the Reids stepping off the escalator.

Sudden footsteps running away was what dragged the public’s attention to a suddenly absent child.

“Y/N!” The parents called out as they chased after the four-year-old. They were quick past the Reids, not stopping to say ‘hello’.

Spencer kept his eyes trained after Y/N’s fleeing form, right until his mother’s face came into view. Diana looked saddened; she too was staring after the L/Ns. Turned to his father. William was composed but his eyes were turned down and watering.

For making his parents react like that to their mere presence, Spencer despised Y/N.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The burning hatred from adolescence staled once Spencer reached adulthood. The protective nature that spawned from it for his mother remained.

Which is why, when Diana Reid casually mentioned Y/N when asked about Riley Jenkins, Spencer froze up.

“You remember Y/N?” He said stiffly.

Diana didn’t notice her son’s change in tone, “Of course, you two were opposites but you got on so well. So sad what happened to them.”

The first guess was that she was referring Y/N’s repeated attempts at running away before Reid cut contact with neighbourhood gossip at age fourteen. He didn’t bother with a second attempt to understand what his mother meant.

“I don’t care about Y/N. I want to know if you remember Riley.”

“And I told you: Riley was a boy you made up.”

“No, Mom, he was a real boy who lived in our neighbourhood, and somebody killed him. And, I don't know, I think-- I think that dad might have had something to do with it.”

“He was real?”

“Yes. And...”

“He was on that little league team, too.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The whole case was surreal - “case” being a very loose term.

When they got into his office, Spencer thought that perhaps things might simmer down a little. Unfortunately, as soon as his father spoke about their history of similarity in appearance, Spencer’s usual comfort of statistics and facts on the elderly and pets failed to conceal his abandonment issues.

William Reid was clearly affected by Spencer’s accusations, calling the idea of fitting the profile thus being Riley’s killer “absurd”. Furthermore, he was confrontational when asked for access to his files and demanded a warrant. Coupled with Lou Jenkins’ absolute certainty that William was not involved in Riley’s murder and Penelope asking him “you sure about this?” concerning invading the aforementioned files, Spencer was very close to snapping.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that.”

Then there was the envelope posted beneath his motel room door. Suspicious timing aside, there was a brand-new suspect basically handed over on a silver platter. One Gary Michaels whom Spencer couldn’t remember him but he couldn’t be sure that he didn’t know him. Uncertainty being the feeling he hated the most.

This man could fit the profile; his previous of exposing himself to a minor was a precursor to molestation. But that wasn’t what Spencer wanted to hear from the shady file slipped to direct his attention away from William.

Garcia reported back about his father’s drives, “No kiddie porn, no membership to illicit websites, no dubious emails, no chat room history.”

“What about his finances?”

Hotch joined the conversation, “We went back ten years. No questionable transactions that we can find.”

Spencer sighed while Emily decided to crack a joke: “Well, he did buy a ticket to see Celine Dion six months ago, but I think we can overlook that.”

“He’s smart. Is it possible he kept things under the table?” Spencer persisted.

“Well, of course,” Hotch answered, “But from what we can tell, Reid, he doesn’t fit the profile.”

“We can tell you other things about him, if you want to know.”

A peace offering on behalf of Emily. Clearly she had improved after her night out and subsequent hangover. Spencer gave the go-ahead and Emily listed her profile:

“He's a workaholic, he actually logs more hours than we do. He makes decent money, but he doesn't spend a lot of it. He has a modest house. He drives a hybrid. He doesn't travel much. He stays away from the casinos. Um, and according to his veterinary bills, he has a very sick cat.”

“He appears to spend most of his free time alone,” Hotch added, “He goes to the movies a lot, and he reads. And from his collection of first editions, it seems his favourite author is-”

Spencer interrupted his boss, “Isaac Asimov, I remember that one.” He pressed his lips together. They were right; William Reid did not fit the profile.

Garcia piped up once more, “He does have one other major interest. On his home computer, he's archived, like, a ka-jillion things on one common subject.”

“What?”

“You, kiddo. He's got, like, everything that's been published online. Every article you've been quoted in, pieces you've written for behavioural science journals, He even has a copy of your dissertation.”

“He's keeping tabs on you,” Rossi said, That's saying something.”

But Spencer smoothly dismissed this attempt to make excuses for his father, “Yeah, he googled me. That makes up for everything. I'm going to get some air.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

After getting said air, Spencer went to the local bar and began playing an computerised poker game. His paying attention was only to distract himself, clear his head with something he knew he could control. And thankfully, a chance interaction with a lady at the bar spawned the inspiration for a sporadic hypnosis session.

Doctor Jan Mohikian allowed them a session. Reminded of the limitations that a four-year old’s memory could provide, not including the bias he already had as a son and a profiler, Spencer lay on the couch. His feet hung over the end so that his head could be comfortable in a pillow. There was no time for self-consciousness with Rossi in the room observing. He closed his eyes and felt his hand be placed upon Doctor Mohikian’s body.

She spoke low and calmingly, “I want you to hold my wrist in your left hand. And if you should feel any fear, I want you to squeeze, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Go back to the night you were just telling me about. You're at home, in your room. You can't sleep because your parents are arguing.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

His eyes were closed still, but the couch shifted into a bed. His bed. A floor below, the faint shouting between his mother and father was heard. There was someone else there too. A child wailing, and it wasn’t him.

Suddenly his father was at his side, touching his arm, saying, “I know you’re awake. Daddy loves you; you know that?”

Spencer didn’t want to be there, and then it was the following morning.

Putting his glasses, the room fell into focus. His mother was there, she didn’t see him because she was too busy looking out the window. Her body language told him that this was not a meltdown, but what she saw was distressing. She’d been crying. As she walked away into the house, she hid her face as if she knew Spencer was watching and she wanted to hide her reaction from him.

Spencer ran to the window the second Diana had left the room.

His father was in the back garden and burning clothes. A bloody shirt, a tiny cardigan, landed on top of the pile already set alight.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, and wake.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

And Spencer was shocked out of the scene, back to the doctor’s couch and gripping her wrist with an iron grip. Rossi was by his side, bringing him back to peace with his voice.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Derek was clearly disturbed that Spencer was very set on his father being a paedophilic murderer as much as he had been that Spencer was taking something that was said after his mother’s fit seriously. He continued however to assist with Rossi in Spencer’s investigation.

As if everything else hadn’t been hard enough, the captain took some time to agree to holding William Reid in custody. Finally, he settled for twenty-four hours. William was as resistant to the questions as he had been upon the initial reunion. All he could say was that he didn’t hurt Riley. Spencer wore him down, getting him to drop the Gary Michaels bomb plus the threat that he “didn’t want to go down that road”.

Garcia’s search of Gary Michaels’ DNA on the databases brought to light that their suspect was dead. Buried across state lines, beat over the head with a pipe or bat, and the body was discovered in 2001.

“Maybe it wasn’t Riley’s blood on the clothes he was burning.” Derek was about to hang up when Garcia began to speak again, a new discovery ready for her team.

“Also, Todd found something in your father’s finances. There was a standing order for a therapist, specifically a child therapist from 1985 to 1995. I thought it was for Spencer, but William left when you were twelve, and these sessions continue irregularly after he left you!”

“Who was the patient?”

“One Y/N L/N. Local to North Vegas, born 1980 to Shelly and Finley L/N.”

Both Rossi and Derek looked away from the phone to Spencer and he knew. He knew he’d have to face another villain from the past – like a knight in one of Y/N’s stories.

“Still alive?”

“Yep, already pulling up an address. There’s a lot of short leases attached to this name. Lucky for you, they keep going back to live with their parents.”

Spencer wasn’t entirely sure that he could handle two bitter reunions in one day.

“We’ll send off the fingerprint while we visit Y/N. They could have been a potential victim of Michaels before he died. They might know something.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

It was a normal home in a normal neighbourhood. Spencer had never visited Y/N’s house. Their play-dates were always at the park.

“Hello, Mr L/N,” held up their badges, “I’m Agent Derek Morgan, this is Agent David Rossi and Doctor Spencer Reid. May we come in and ask you some questions?”

“Sure. My wife is uh out at work at the moment,” Finley opened the door wider and stepped aside for the trio to enter, “I’m the house husband as it were.”

Looking about the kitchen, Spencer spied several photos of an adult Y/N but very few of them as a toddler and even less as a teenager.

“You have a child, Mr L/N?” Rossi asked.

“All grown up now, Y/N,” Finley smiled with a nod. Then he squinted at Spencer, “You’re not related to William Reid by chance, are you?”

Masking his bitterness, Spencer said shortly, “He’s my father.”

Finley seemed in awe at the prospect, so Derek redirected the conversation back to the matter at hand, “What was Y/N like as a child?”

Nodding still, like a bobble head, Finley looked weary at the notion, “Troubled. They were very young when they withdrew into themselves. Used to run away from home a lot. I don’t know what happened, but Y/N never told us.” He then jumped to protect his child’s reputation at present, “They’re doing better now, went to therapy and they’re doing very well for themselves.”

“I’m glad to hear.” Rossi replied.

Finley continued his defence of Y/N, “They’re a published author, they write fantasy things for kids and young adults. We’re very proud of them.”

“Did Y/N know Riley Jenkins when they were a child?”

“Riley Jenkins, that’s Lou’s kid who died, right?” Finley sought confirmation and, when he had it, he spoke, “Not personally. I think they might have played at the park once or twice. Before he died, Y/N would play with anyone. But you… you know that.” And Finley gestured to Spencer, much to his disgust.

“Is Y/N in the area?” Spencer asked briskly.

“Well, they’re due for a visit in a few hours. They went on holiday.”

“They still live with you?”

“A month ago, they got a new flat in the city. But they’ve got their own room here, for whenever they need it.”

“May we see it?”

The wallpaper was barely visible beneath exam revision notes, posters of Fresh sheets on the bed and the clear space on the floor were the only tidy things about the place. It was a haven of organised clutter.

A chess set caught Spencer’s eye. It sat upon the windowsill, recently dusted. The pieces were not that of a classic set; each was painted prettily but with enough error to indicate it was a personal touch.

“You and Y/N were close then?” Derek was holding up a photo album. Upon inspection, the photograph the page was open on was of Spencer and Y/N dressed up for Halloween as Doctor Frankenstein and the Monster respectively – accurate to the book of course.

“Yeah, ‘were’,” Spencer turned back to the chess set. He didn’t bother to ask when his friends had figured out he knew Y/N.

Rossi decided to further test the waters, “You think that Y/N could have killed Riley?”

“Of course not. A four-year-old couldn’t kidnap, tie up, rape, and kill a boy their own age. No violent history that indicates they would ever do something like this. Do I think that Y/N knows something about what happened and my father is trying to keep them quiet? Yes.”

Rossi moved beside Spencer, picking up the knight. Except it wasn’t a knight. It was a wizard of some kind in purple robes.

“We’ll stay up here for a bit then go down once Y/N’s inside and settled,” He gestured with the knight to the window. Spencer blanched as he spied a cab at the end of the driveway. The trunk was open and someone was retrieving a suitcase from within.

Y/N appeared around the corner, waving off the cab and turning to the house. Mr L/N appeared on the drive and they met in the middle for a hug. Over Mr L/N’s shoulder, Spencer could see that Y/N had grown into their chubby childhood features. They looked genuinely happy.

He would have to go through with it, but he didn’t have to like it. And he couldn’t go hide in the bathroom like with his father.

The trio plodded down the stairs when the sound of the front door closing was replaced with a joyous gathering in the kitchen. It all changed when Y/N went to take off their jacket and caught sight of the three FBI agents standing in the doorway. Taking out his badge, Rossi led the way.

“Hello, Y/N, I’m Agent David Rossi, this is Agent Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid. We’re looking into the death of Riley Jenkins, and we were hoping to ask you some questions.”

To the naked eye, very little changed about Y/N’s appearance. To the three profilers, there was a visceral reaction: Y/N’s right hand started trembling, the hard swallow, the dropping of their gaze from Spencer to the floor.

“OK,” They said, a great deal quieter than they had been with their father.

Rossi sat next to Y/N at the dinner table. Derek was beside Rossi; Spencer stayed standing. Mr L/N stayed in the kitchen, at Y/N’s request.

“Can you tell us what you remember about Riley?” Rossi began.

“Not very much, I don’t really remember much about school.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Spencer blurted, “Well, I do.”

Derek glanced back at him with a look that just screamed “shut the hell up”. It seemed to cut down Y/N’s resolve, their jaw quivering.

“Sorry, can you give me a moment?” They stood up quick, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor as they walked just as fast to the kitchen. Through the open door, Rossi, Derek, and Spencer watched Y/N grab a glass from the open dishwasher. The water from the tap hit the bottom of the glass harsh, crashing out like a wave of the ocean hitting a cliff. Y/N didn’t seem to care. Their hand dripped water onto the surface as they chugged back some of the drink before returning to the table with a topped-up glass.

“Are you alright?” Rossi inquired, leaning closer to Y/N.

They answered wearily, “Fine, just feeling woozy.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Yeah, you’re a writer too. My mom reads your stuff before bed.”

“Bit of an odd nightcap,” Rossi said with a little chuckle.

Y/N shared that smile for the briefest of moments, replying “You’re telling me.”

From their pocket, they pulled out some painkillers, popping them back with a slug of water then speaking again. “I remember Riley was smaller than me. Still figuring out coordination, but he liked to play chase. I know he was killed; I didn’t find out how until I looked into it last year.”

“Why did you look into it?” Rossi gently probed.

Y/N rubbed two fingers back and forth across their head as they spoke, “I was back here, I felt sick so I went for a walk in the park, and I just remembered him tripping over while trying to tag me. No one ever told me what happened, just that he had to go away. I wanted to know what happened to him.”

“Are you sick often?” Derek asked suddenly, his voice soft to match Rossi. Spencer grimaced at the treatment Y/N was receiving but said nothing.

“Headaches and stomach aches mostly.”

“You get them whenever you come home?”

“I do. Figured I was allergic to something but never figured out what.”

That would have to be a very quick response, like a dog allergy. And coincidental, seeing as the symptoms didn’t start until they saw Spencer.

“Y/N?” called their father, “Can you come here a moment please?”

“May I?”

“Of course,” said Derek and Y/N was out of the room. Derek pivoted in his chair to include Spencer in his theory, “I think they know something, but they don’t know they know it. I think they repressed this memory like you did, Spencer. We should take him to the therapist, see if we can jog his memory.”

“You can’t be serious,” Spencer covered his face with his hands, dragging them down with irritation.

Derek was persistent though, “Spencer, like it or not, Y/N’s linked to this investigation. Put aside your differences for a moment, please.”

Spencer all but squawked, “Put aside my differences?”

“You have brought a lot of bias to this case. Let us at least pursue this lead.”

“Sorry,” Y/N interrupted Spencer’s retort, sitting back at the table, “He needed someone to get unhook the loft door. Mom usually does it.”

“That’s alright.” Rossi waved a hand dismissively. Once Y/N accepted that, he moved in with Derek’s suggestion, “You know, some people have strong physical reactions to memories, trauma. Maybe you’re not getting sick. You’re rejecting something.”

“Rejecting?” repeated Y/N. There was no doubt in their voice, more cautious curiosity.

Derek nodded, “A memory, repressing it, and your body has linked the physical responses to your home. We think it has something to do with this case, and we’d like to see if we can retrieve any memories you might have. Would you be alright to come with us?”

“Yeah,” said Y/N, though they didn’t sound too certain, “Yeah sure.”

The resigned, too tired look on their face, and Spencer felt a tug in his chest. A longing to see Y/N smile like they had when they first entered the house. He’d rather hate someone who was happy than someone who suffered the same as him.

Leaving the house, Spencer took a deep breath of fresh air.

“Spencer?”

He ignored Y/N’s voice for a moment, but he couldn’t disregard Y/N standing in front of him and speaking again, “Spencer, can we talk please?”

“I’m busy,” He said, already walking off as he pretended to call someone, “Hey Garcia.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Hold onto my hand, use it as an anchor, and squeeze when you feel fear.” Doctor Mohikian accepted Y/N’s hand on her wrist and their silence nod as they lay back on the same couch Spencer had been just hours before.

“I want you to think back to your childhood, back to when you were five. You’re at the park, your parents are on a bench watching nearby to keep you safe. What do you see?”

“Spencer Reid.”

Derek and Rossi glanced at Spencer, who did not react. They kept quiet so that Y/N could immerse themselves in the hypnosis.

“What’s he doing?” Doctor Mohikian continued.

“Teaching me chess.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Sat on opposite sides of the table, Spencer and Y/N’s eyes were glued to the chess pieces that were neatly organised between them. Spencer was thinking strategy. He could not say the same for his companion Y/N. They reached a hand out and hovered over the pieces before finally selecting their last knight.

Their tongue clicked as Y/N trotted the piece on the spot.

“What’s this one again?”

“The knight,” Spencer recited, “It moves two spaces up, down, left or right, and another step perpendicular to the first direction.”

“Brave creatures riding into battle,” Y/N narrated before continuing their clip-clopping to its new position, “Pawns in the game of war.”

Spencer didn’t understand how they were coming up with this whilst playing. Well, actually, he did. Because Y/N was clearly not playing to win. They were playing for the best possible story.

“Where do you think this story will end?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” said Y/N, pushing back the sleeves of their white cardigan, “Come on, you can tell me, with your magic powers.”

“It’s not magic. It’s logic.”

“That’s magic to me,”

Narrowing his eyes, Spencer decided that he should give his friend the information they sought: “I see checkmate in fifteen moves.”

“See? Magic! The gift of sight!” crowed Y/N, clapping their hands together. The cardigan sleeves fell back in place as they did so. Spencer felt his cheeks heat up; he dropped his head so he could smile in privacy while Y/N began to decide their next move.

“How’s your mommy today?”

Shrugging, Spencer said, “Better than normal. But that means a bad day is around the corner.”

Y/N nodded solemnly. “Do you want another ice cream? I got more birthday money.”

“No thank you.” Spencer moved the piece but was immediately intercepted by Y/N, “You’re getting better.”

“Fank you.”

“You’ll have to wait longer to beat me though.” And he snatched Y/N’s knight away, just as planned and much to Y/N’s dismay.

A new voice from their left spoke, “Hey you’re pretty good.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Y/N’s grip tightened on Doctor Mohikian’s wrist, “Someone’s with us.”

“Who do you see?” Doctor Mohikian asked patiently.

“A man. He’s asking us if he can watch us play, listen to the story.”

“Do you want him to stay?”

“No,” Y/N flinched, “But Spencer keeps talking to him. The man won’t go away.”

“It’s OK, it’s OK, you’re safe, Y/N.”

Y/N flinched again, this time letting out a whimper, “He’s on the floor.”

“Spencer is?”

“No, the man.”

“What’s he doing on the floor?”

“He’s,” Y/N began panting, their face tensing and body jerking, “I can’t get to him. There’s glass in the way and the ground is shaking.”

“Y/N.”

“I can’t look, I’ll be sick! Whenever I see them, sick.”

“OK, you’re going to wake up in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

Their eyes snapped open with the click of the fingers and Y/N leapt out of Doctor Mohikian’s couch. Their head aimed over the bin by the door and they retched. Nothing came up but their stomach continued to squeeze up

Spencer fidgeted in his seat, trying his best not to look at Y/N. The choice words of the session, three in particular, wrapped around his head.

“Floor”.

Y/N had seen Gary Michaels inside, somewhere that wasn’t the park.

“Glass”.

A window, Y/N was watching what Gary Michaels was doing.

“Sick”.

“Go away! I can’t look at you! You make me feel sick, you and your family!”

“Them”.

It wasn’t just Michaels in the room alone. They had been a witness to his murder.

Derek’s movement to help Y/N took Spencer out of his analysis. Sweaty, Y/N was led back to the couch, the bin between their legs, head lolling forward. Spencer tried to move beside them for questioning, but Y/N winced and began heaving again. He felt that ache in his chest again. He was causing this and nothing he could do would change that. Not until they both knew what happened to Riley and Y/N got help through it.

“What did you see, Y/N?” Derek asked as he replaced Spencer’s spot beside them.

With watering eyes, Y/N looked at Spencer, “The man we played with, he was on the floor. His head – thank you.” They accepted the water from Doctor Mohikian, gulping some back, “It was smashed in.”

The three agents left the room, Doctor Mohikian following after Y/N left to get some air.

“It’s logical to assume that Y/N tied that sickness, that repulsion because of what they thought they saw your mother be involved with, to you and your family,” Doctor Mohikian evaluated.

Interrupting again, Spencer stammered his way through his analysis, “That’s why they avoided me. They associated me with being ill. It’s probably also why they ran away so much; they had to get away from this horrible feeling they had associated with their home.”

Doctor Mohikian shook her head, “We won’t be able to use this in court, I told you when we started.”

Derek’s phone started to ring. As he answered, Spencer somehow managed to slip away for long enough to find Y/N. They were leaning against the ramp’s railing in front of the practice, their body lifting and slumping with each deep breath they took. Against his better judgement, he moved toward them.

“Y/N? Can I have your number?”

The breathing slowed again.

“I need it to call you with an update on the situation as soon as we get one.”

Without looking up, Y/N pulled out their phone and handed it over to Spencer. He punched his number in a new contact, using this time to gather the courage to maybe say something else. The hurt and pain went beyond him now. Y/N was suffering and had been much longer than he had.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Spencer said quietly, hoping that his didn’t add to the illness, “I hope you feel better soon.”

Their head still down, Y/N croaked, “You too, Spencer.”

“Spencer, get over here! We got a match on a print on Michaels’ body!”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“What makes you think Gary Michaels killed your boy?”

“He admitted it,” Lou Jenkins said, as monotonous as he had been for the last fifteen minutes of the interrogation.

Derek’s quickfire was on Jenkins instantly, “You beat a guy with a baseball bat, he's going to admit to a lot of things. How do you know he was the right guy?”

“I know. He approached another kid in the neighbourhood.”

“And how do you know that?

“I was told by a concerned party.”

“Who? Another parent?”

Jenkins leant back in his chair, “That's all I'm going to say on the subject.”

“Who was it?” Spencer suddenly spoke up.

Caught off guard at his interjection, Jenkins awkwardly parroted himself, “I told you that's all I'm going to say on the sub—"

Reid slammed his hands on the table, getting right up in Lou’s face, “Who was it?”

The door opened, Detective Hyde appeared, “Agent Reid?”

“Do not interfere with this interrogation, detective,” shouted Spencer, “This is not your case anymore!”

Once again, he was cut off. This time, by the arrival of his own mother, Diana, and her admission of guilt: “Spencer, it was me”.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Of all the things this case had brought him, Spencer least expected to be sitting in a room with his mother and father together for the first time in years. To have Diana explain to him how she was involved in a child’s murder was also up there with the unthinkable.

But he stayed quiet and listened to her confession.

The reveal that she had seen Gary Michaels playing chess with him and Y/N, that she and got a feeling that something was wrong before anything had even happened, opened the story. Lou Jenkins’ involvement was next on the menu. Two days after the chess game, he drove Diana to Michaels’ house, disclosed his history of child abuse, and demanded she leave while he went into the house.

Upon reaching the point where she entered the house, Diana struggled with her words. William reached over and took her hand.

She described seeing Lou with the bat, standing over the body, slipping in the pool of blood, finding Y/N standing in the window and their face, their little face as innocent as the white cardigan that covered their shoulders and absorbed the blood from Diana’s hands as she shook their shoulders.

“And the rest... It's all dark after that.”

William continued for her. Diana came home and brought Y/N with her. Eventually he came to understand what had happened and decided that nobody could ever know.

“You were burning her bloody clothes,” Spencer concluded.

His father nodded, “But the knowing, you can't burn that away. It changes everything.”

“You paid for Y/N to go to therapy.”

William didn’t seem surprised that Spencer knew this, going straight into explaining: “They went into a dissociative fugue state after seeing what Lou had done. When Diana brought them home, they were just stiff. I asked them for their home number, to call their parents, but they started screaming and throwing up. We had to take them to the police station.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief, “They needed help, but their parents couldn’t afford it. And they didn’t know what had happened. I couldn’t drag another person into this, Spencer.”

“Is this why you left?”

“I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you, but the weight of that knowledge, it was too much.”

“You could have come back. Could have started over.”

“I didn't know how to take care of you anymore. When I lost that confidence, there was no going back. What's done is done.”

“At least now you know the truth,” Diana made an effort to smile at her son

Choking on his words and the overwhelming remorse he felt, Spencer refused to look at his parents any longer, “I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry.”

And William said something that Spencer had been waiting for, for a long time, “I am, too, Spencer.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

All of this was repeated when Spencer walked with Y/N through their old park the following day. Filling the final gaps in the memory would hopefully bring some respite to them both. Or at least maybe something to start the recovery process, easing Y/N’s sickness and Spencer’s pain.

“I’m sorry for my behaviour during this case,” Spencer sniffed, “When you said we made you sick, back when we were four, I thought you had seen my mom during one of her episodes and thought she was a freak, like everyone else.”

That stopped Y/N in their tracks, their hands coming up to cover their mouth, their eyes misty, “Oh Spencer, I’m sorry too, I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much pain.”

Spencer’s hands rushed up as if to create belated damage control, “It’s ok! I hurt you too. I made you sick.”

“That wasn’t your fault though.”

“It wasn’t yours either. We were kids.”

Almost pedantic, stropping, like a child again, Y/N moaned, “It’s all been such a waste. We could have been friends all this time!”

“We can be friends now,” Spencer pushed his hands down into his pockets to stop them flailing about anymore. His sentence was phrased more like a question.

One that Y/N gladly answered, “I would like really that.”

Sitting in the reply for a moment, Spencer followed up on his concerns, “How are you feeling? I mean, are you feeling sick again?”

“A bit, but I can handle it.”

Spencer could not see any changes in their behaviour from the day before. So obviously they were lying about that. But he didn’t protest. The lie meant Y/N wanted to stay with him, which was good - Spencer wanted that too.

They kept walking, only in silence for half a minute before Spencer broke it again, “I read your books last night.”

“Yeah?”

“‘The Siege of the Lost Faiths’ in Rogue’s Mask, that was our first game of chess.”

“It had by far the best narrative,” Y/N dragged their shoe a little on the grass before coming to a stop, “Do you still play?”

“All the time.”

They nodded over to where the old chess tables still stood, “Fancy a game before you go?”

Spencer grinned, “Just promise that this is the only setting where we’ll be on conflicting sides from now on.”

“Promise.”

Brushing the debris from the table, they both took their places opposite each other. From Y/N’s bag was revealed a box, spilling their painted chess pieces across the board. Remembering how they had stood in Y/N’s room, Spencer helped to set up the match. They took their seats opposite one another. Y/N was the green side, Spencer the purple.

Spencer moved first. After a second’s deliberation, Y/n moved their pawn.

“Isn’t there a story with this one?” Spencer said, an implicated teasing in his tone despite his shyness.

With an equally bashful eye roll, Y/N started their new story, “First begins the battle with the royals on both sides sending intrepid messengers to meet and pass along their deeds.”

Spencer took Y/N’s pawn. As he lifted their piece away, he spoke quietly, “One not as intrepid as the other.”

A gasp dropped from Y/N’s smile. He had never joined in the narrative telling before, always too taken up in the match to invest in whatever story they spun.

“He’s not a coward,” They said, still smiling, much to Spencer’s delight, “Prisoner’s dilemma, he just couldn’t trust the other with his life.”

“Did they know each other before this battle?”

“Yes,” Y/N moved a knight across, stealing Spencer’s pawn, “They were brothers who once shared a crib and now they share a grave.”

Throughout the game, Y/N continued the story with Spencer asking questions just to hear them talk more. The maturity of the stories had grown just as Y/N’s voice had. They knuckled their eyes a few times, but they didn’t complain about the headache.

“I know what endings you like,” Spencer moved his rook, “Checkmate in five.”

Y/N didn’t seem to mind that little dig, “This’ll have to be a short story instead then.”

Spencer’s next sentence got away from him, trailing off the closer he got to the end of it, “You could write an anthology series, if we see each other again and play more games.”

Where Spencer’s voice disappeared, Y/N’s returned with invigoration, “That’s not a half bad idea, Spencer.”

The checkmate never came. Y/N diverted the ending into a draw.

“A peace treaty has been forged by the survivors, because too many lives have been lost to justify this violence anymore. If only they realised sooner that no blood had to be shed for peace to rule the lands.” And they smiled at Spencer, clearly chuffed as they leaned back in their chair, “Bit of an upgrade from the horse noises, I’ll say.”

Spencer rotated the purple knight – the illusionist – between his thumb and forefinger, “I liked the horse noises.”

“You should have said during the match! I’d recreate them, for you.”

One by one, the pieces were placed back into their box until the last piece remained in Spencer’s palm: the knight or Soren the Illusionist, distractions and deceptions but he loved the tricks that delighted most of all. Just like Spencer with his magic tricks but a little to the left. The character was always one of Y/N’s favourites. Some solace away from the pain of thinking of who he was based on.

Y/N pushed Spencer’s hand away, closes his fist around it, “Keep him. He was made with you in mind anyway.”

The information sank in and Spencer’s nose wrinkled with the little smile on his face as he cupped the little Illusionist, “I’m Soren?”

Nodding, Y/N confirmed, “You’re Soren.”

“But what about your set though?”

“I can always make and paint another knight,” and Y/N tilted the piece upside down in Spencer’s hand, revealing the signature on the underside, “You and him are the originals, it’s only fair you stay together.”

In a moment of pure instinct and nostalgia, Spencer clicked his tongue as he twisted Soren in time with the noise. Y/N let out a burst of laughter that dragged the air out of Spencer’s chest.

“Hey, do you wanna get dinner tonight?” He said, running out of breath very quickly as a result.

It had a similar effect on Y/N, “I thought you – don’t you have to get back to Virginia?”

“I have time for dinner. For you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

The bookstore was packed but the breath of the patrons was held as one. All eyes were watching the mini stage where a crouching figure lifted their head up slowly. A jump as the tension broke with the figure leaping up to their feet with a bang.

Y/N pushed up the brim of their cap. Snatching a deep green hoodie from the purple trunk – silver constellations painted on the sides – they swung it over their back before picking up the page where they had left off.

“Nasima looked up at Mason and said, ‘Well that was just unnecessary.’”

A burst of laughter shot through the pre-teens in the front row, spreading to the adolescents sitting further back who had grown up with the author’s other works, finally reaching the adults at the back where Spencer was fiddling with his cane. He adjusted the sleeve of his costume absentmindedly. He was just like everyone else in the room: captivated by how Y/N was so immersed in their reading.

They had just mimed kicking down a door, plus sound effects from their mouth. Swapping back and forth between the two conflicting characters arguing with one another, changing between the hoodie and the cap with every other line of dialogue and taking both off for the role of the narrator, it was certainly a workout.

An exaggerated breath was drawn into Y/N’s lungs, flopping over in a melodramatic state, which caused another laugh in the audience.

Spencer’s nose scrunched up as he grinned. He knew this was part of the scene; he’d seen Y/N rehearse this story in their sitting room. It was so much better to share this with an audience, for their reactions to fuel Y/N’s energy.

Y/N finished the short story A Battle of Bent Truths with a flourish, leaving the rest of the anthology for their audience to read in their own time. The kids were up on their feet first. Some of them were jumping up and down as they applauded with the rest of the shop. Y/N gave a big grin as they bowed, sweeping their cap off for extra drama.

There was a book signing and a photographer that followed, and Spencer waited patiently at the end of the queue, thankful that the store allowed him to bring a chair along with him. He was happy to entertain his godson and friends with a few tricks to pass the time.

“Another one please!” Henry jumped up and down when Spencer revealed his card.

A minor commotion arose by the photographer’s backdrop. There was a teenager was crying; she was clutching her copy of Untold Tales of Human Nature. Y/N was holding their shoulders, rubbing gently and speaking softly. Only half paying attention to his next trick, Spencer kept an eye on Y/N as they hugged the teenager, looking near tears themselves.

“Spencer?” J.J tapped him on the shoulder and Spencer realised that Henry was looking a little mad to have lost his godfather’s attention so easily.

“Sorry, Henry, can you pick another card please?”

When they reached the front of the queue, JJ went up first and took Henry and his pals up to see Y/N. They instantly recognised JJ and welcomed her with a tight hug. Henry was delighted to see his favourite babysitter and show them off to his school friends, boasting that they had read to him before today.

“They read me bits for bedtime, Mommy!”

“I know!” JJ tickled his cheek, “I read them to you too.”

“Who do you like better?”

“Mommy,”

Y/N gasped, dropping to their knees which made Spencer wince, “Henry, you wound me!”

Rossi approach next, knowing that once Spencer got to Y/N, they would not be left alone.

“You really know how to captivate an audience,” He kissed them on both cheeks, “Though don’t take offence if I don’t use the same tricks at my readings.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it! Thank you for coming.”

Y/N then caught Spencer’s eye and began meandering over to him with a smile they were desperately trying to stifle. Spencer rose from his chair, meeting Y/N in the middle.

“Hi, Spencer.”

With his free arm, Spencer flaunted his cloak, “Who is Spencer? I’m Soren the Illusionist!”

Giggles from his godson, his godson’s gang, his co-workers and friends, they almost caused Y/N to lose their composure. They held on just long enough to continue the banter.

“Oh, forgive me, you look so much like my boyfriend.”

“Hmmm, he must be very handsome,”

And Y/N burst into peals of laughter, waving their hands about, “OK, stop, stop, stop, I can’t.”

“Hey!” Spencer pretended to take offence, pouting as Y/N brought him into a hug.

“Don’t worry,” They kissed his cheek between giggles, “You are so very handsome.”

“To think you were once sick at the sight of me.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing #r: gender neutral #wc: 5k+

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