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dreamersparacosm · 2 years ago

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austin butler - are you looking for trouble, honey?

warnings ; infidelity, usage of toys, penetration, orgasm denial, public play

prompt ; in which you’re the “other woman.”

a/n ; y’all put this idea in my head so here it is. cheater!austin but don’t worry you’re also the bad guy. two wrongs apparently make a right but like not really also kaia if you ever read this i’m so sorry bestie it’s just for the plot

destinado a morir - miguel

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

it’s one of those things where you’re not entirely sure how it started.

maybe it started when your best friend, kaia gerber, introduced you to her new boyfriend, who you assumed was for the month, austin butler, and when you two shook hands, it felt as though you had been zapped by electricity. when you had gazed into his ice-blue eyes, an angry swarm of butterflies or bees or whatever whimsical insect with wings had fluttered within the pits of your stomach.

maybe it started when you three had gone out to a bar, getting incoherently drunk and wobbling back to your respective hotel rooms, but austin had lingered out in the hallway, peering at you longingly.

maybe it started when he had placed a hand over yours, comforting you at your most vulnerable state and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

or, maybe, just maybe, it started when he kissed you for the first time, underneath the dim lights of the almost-empty bar, as kaia slept peacefully and unknowingly in her bed only a few miles away.

maybe you need to confront the fact that despite your budding feelings and secret meetings and forlorn conversations, it doesn’t matter how it started; it has to end.

“fuck, baby,” he groans out, bottoming into you and filling you to the brim, tears lining your eyes as he stretches you out completely. it’s a daily occurrence, and you should be used to the way your walls tense around his cock, but somehow, he feels bigger tonight. his head lazily falls into the crook of your neck, “you’re so tight. not fucking anybody else but me, right?”

it’s laughable — the way you harness yourself to him, crumble at every word he says, powerless under his spell — but you know better than to go against him when he’s in a mood. you bite back your sarcastic remark, brain jumbled into senseless words as he fucks you with deep, slow strokes, enough to make you submissive and at his mercy. “n-no, aus. i don’t want anyone else but you,” it comes out as more of a breathy moan, a concoction of filthy promises.

“good girl,” he mutters into your hair, his pace steady as he places a hand on your lower stomach, pressing down gently, feeling his length glide into you to meet his hand. he smirks at the sensation, looking back up at your cock-drunk expression, nothing but insatiable hunger coursing through your veins.

you’re not intoxicated in the slightest; it’s just your average tuesday night, in your apartment on the upper west side, the sound of cars honking and the slight breeze brushing your skin from your cracked window, just your typical evening where you let him annihilate your morals and destroy your life. somehow, in that bed, in those silk sheets, you feel drunk. that’s the only way you can justify letting him into your home routinely.

“you always feel so good,” he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, plunging deeper inside of you and speeding up, and your response is nothing short of a whimper. it’s a meek sound that keeps him entangled with your skin, enough to let him know that you’re wrapped around his finger, and enough to remind him you’re never leaving, despite what you may say once everything is all said and done.

he leans his body back a bit, gazing into your eyes that have glazed over with lust. you’re not even sure you’re a person anymore, just a shell of who you once were before this whole thing started. one hand moves from your lower stomach to your neck, firmly gripping onto it. your oxygen is cut short, incoherent thoughts floating your brain. he’s taking you all in; your fucked-out expression, the heaving of your chest, the bite marks he left on your shoulder glistening with his saliva, and for a glimmer of a second, he almost feels guilty for doing this to you.

but only for a second.

you wrap your feeble hand around his wrist, hoping he’ll loosen his grip. he does, just a little, just to see you sigh with relief as he adjusts his pace inside of you. the sound of your juices squelching with each thrust fill the room, small moans spilling from your lips, “p-please don’t stop,” you beg, your lip tucked in between your upper teeth as you lie there at his indulgence.

he just chuckles at how silly and pathetic you sound, his other free hand reaching down to press a finger against your clitoris. that elicits a yelp from you as he rubs circles into your bundle of nerves, stimulating your entire body and shooting fireworks through every limb. you sink into the mattress, body trembling with delight. he knows you’re close, but despite that knowledge, he cares more about his own release; only because he’s well aware that you’ll cum regardless. he is cognizant of the way he controls your mind and body, the way he can maneuver you and make you his private property, to be touched and seen only by him.

with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat, other focused on pleasing your clit, he says through gritted teeth, “look at you, a fucking mess. you’re a fucking slut for me.”

you nod. the voice you use to speak to people, to confidently argue for yourself, is eradicated, dwindled down to nothing but breathy moans and nods. you hate the person you’ve become. “being such a good girl for me, taking my entire cock in your tight little pussy,” his grip on your throat tightens, enough to make you choke on any response you could muster.

you’re taking everything he’s putting out, like the good girl he repeatedly says you are. you’re a good girl when you remind him to take his vitamins in the morning, you’re a good girl when you make him breakfast, you’re a good girl when you take his cock in your mouth to completion, you’re a good girl when you look in your best friend’s eyes and pretend her boyfriend’s tongue was never in between your folds. he continues to pound into you mercilessly, his pace increasing at the thought of meeting his release.

his consistent moans wrap around you like silk. “i’m so fucking close, baby,” he’s now moving like he’s on springs, so desperate and so needy for his semen to exit out of him. and although it’s a nightly occurrence for him to be in your bed, to be skin-to-skin, he still feels the same as he did the first time; absorbed in your body, crashing down, down, down.

“you’re all mine, [y/n]. do you understand me?” he speaks in between thrusts, hips rutting as he paints your walls with his thick semen. small spasms elicit from his limbs, riding down his high. you let him come inside you, not for the first time, and you reach your orgasm within seconds, just like he knows you would. his head falls into the nook of your shoulder, teeth grazing over his previous bite marks. “all mine.”

the absurdity of his statement should make you chuckle — the fact that he’s laid up in another girl’s bed while his girlfriend sleeps a few miles away, empty promises of him coming to see her still in her text messages — but you’re cock-drunk, hypnotized, to say the least. so, you agree, and you fall for his trap, the one that keeps you tied to him for eternity. “i’m all yours.”

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

later that week, when you’re positioned in a chair at a five-star restaurant, remote-control vibrator nestled in between your folds, best friend and her boyfriend seated across from you, said boyfriend has access to the settings of the vibrator: you’ll start to realize you might have taken it too far.

“i feel like you guys need to be closer.”

kaia, you don’t want that. really, you don’t. plus, we don’t need to be any closer.

“really? i don’t know, i think i’m okay with where our relationship is at,” you smile feebly, and you pray she can’t see how pale you’ve turned, even though it is the middle of the day and you’re strolling down a crowded street.

but ever so oblivious kaia doesn’t bat her eyes at your reaction. instead, she chuckles, pushing her sunglasses higher up on her nose, “you’re my best friend, [y/n]. i want you guys to be close,” pause. “plus, i think i might really like him.”

you’ve heard those words exit her mouth before. in fact, it was a daily occurrence. she really liked him. she was a girl in love, a girl too kind and too sweet for her own good. your body falls limp, guilt washing over you as it always does. you want to scream at her, tell her to open her eyes, to realize that the reason why austin neglects to respond to her texts after 2 a.m is because he’s curled up in your bed, barbarically making you his. but, instead of the yells and the screams that beg to be heard, you say, “listen, i don’t know about close. how about… friendly acquaintances?”

“that’s basically what you guys are now,” she says matter-of-factly, sipping her green smoothie.

you groan in false annoyance, “i don’t get it. i wasn’t close to jacob, and you guys dated for like, a year!”

“you literally told me you hated him the first time you met him.”

okay, well-played. back when you were a better friend, someone kaia could actually trust, her only confidante in this shallow world beside her mother, you told her jacob wasn’t in it for the long haul. needless to say, you were right and they had parted ways. and despite your inner knowledge that austin also wasn’t in it for the long haul, you kept that tucked away in your brain, somewhere between a secret and a lie, something that would hurt her more if she knew the truth.

“well, i wasn’t wrong, was i?” you joke.

“how about one dinner? just one, and if it ends up being the worst thing in the world, i will personally deliver all the alcohol in the world to your doorstep,”

she drives a hard bargain; she always does. the girl has known you since you were still in your awkward phase, unsure of how to strut on a runway and not look like you were trampled by a bus beforehand, it should make sense, right? despite that, she might not know you as well as she thinks, because right under her nose, was the blatant reason why you couldn’t hang out with her boyfriend for more than 20 minutes at a time.

“i don’t know, kaia…”

“come onnn! please,” she looks at you with puppy dog eyes, ones that would usually make you fold in a heartbeat. this time, it just makes your heart crack at its edges a tad more. “for me.”

“if, if, i agree, we have to go to that restaraunt on bleecker i’ve been meaning to go to,” your lips are pressed together tightly. you know there’s no wiggling out of this one, no sun in between those looming dark clouds. kaia is used to getting what she wants, and it’s no different when it comes to her best friend. “and, you’re paying.”

she groans, “really?” she says it as if she has no abundance of money.

“isn’t austin gonna pay anyway?”

yes, he is. that’s just who he is. he knows how to act like a gentleman under the public lenses, that’s for sure.

“fair, fair,” she sips daintily from her straw, eyes darting around the crowded street as she weaves through people effortlessly. “you better not pregame this dinner.”

there she goes again, with another statement that proves her loyalty to you, and how intricate her knowledge of you goes.

“listen, i agreed to go to this dinner,” you shrug, “i did not say anything about how i got through it.”

a part of it really is true. there will need to be a bit of alcohol consumed if you have to sit through a full four-course dinner with kaia and austin. there will be talk about his job, yours, hers, all while you’ll feel as though a sink hole will appear any second to swallow you up whole. yeah, you’ll need a drink or two.

that evening, you get ready like you always do. you put on a fresh outfit, adorn yourself with gold jewelry, and act as if everything is all fine and dandy in the world. until austin pulls up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing tightly, that your picturesque view of the world fades away. “why did you agree to this again?”

you sigh, “i can’t say no to her.”

“you could’ve said you were busy,” he unwraps himself from you, fixing himself beside your body in the mirror.

“we do everything together..”

“everything?”

he says it with a sarcastic tone laced in. it’s hysterical, and you would laugh under any other circumstances, but these don’t allow for so much as a chuckle. “maybe not everything.”

“is there any other reason to why you agreed to this?” he questions, moving away from you and sprawling out onto your bed, all too comfortable.

“no, she just said she wanted us to be closer —“

he snorts.

“—and that she really likes you.”

there’s a tension that falls over the room, both of you silent. there is not a word left in the world to say. austin’s snide expression falters a little, enough to give you hope that he might rethink his relationship status. but you know better than to go down that road again.

“damn,” is all that exits his mouth.

“yeah.”

he’s mute for another second before he sits up on his elbows, glancing over at you. “can i ask you a question?”

your heart skips a beat for a moment, and you stop applying your lipstick to look over at him, “yeah?”

for only a millisecond, one pocket of time, you find yourself hoping and praying that he might ask you if it’s worth it to allow yourselves to be together. but alas, it’s just another dream that lives rent free in the nook of your mind. he says, “are you sure you’re not doing this to prove something to yourself?”

the question smacks you across the face and leaves red slashes on your cheek. you feel as though you’d been deprived of water for weeks. your mouth slightly parts, sputtering to find the words to respond. yet, you know; deep down, you’re aware that there is a fraction of you that is desperate for kaia to find out, to end the ache and suffering that comes along with falling in love with someone who can never be yours. it’s a ridiculous kind of infatuation, the one where you’re not the good guy, but the villain in someone else’s story.

“no,” you try to say firmly. “she’s my best friend, aus.”

“if you’re her best friend, you wouldn’t be sleeping with me.”

he says it so sure of himself, like you’re the only one who was in the wrong, like you messed up a perfectly healthy relationship, like you wrecked a home that was never yours to begin with. “well, you’re her boyfriend, so what does that say about you?”

he chuckles sadistically, “don’t worry about me, [y/n]. i don’t give a fuck about how this ends.”

you think that you might spare yourself his harsh words, but he keeps spewing fire at you. “it’s like this. i’m up for an oscar, and kaia makes me look good. i’m gonna keep dating her until the show, maybe drag it out for a month after. when that’s over, i’ll be free to do whatever i want. now, what happens between you and me… that’s up to you.”

“how is that up to me?”

“depends,” he sits up, legs hanging over the edge of your bed. “depends on if you’re ready to lose kaia forever.”

if you were sane, bolts and screws tightened in your brain, you would be appalled by the suggestion of losing your best friend to a man. but, in that bedroom, him so close to you you could almost taste him, your judgement is impaired and your morality is down the toilet. you’re not ready to lose kaia. but you’re sure as hell not ready to lose him. “i don’t, i’m not —“

“cat’s got your tongue?” he jokes.

“no. just not in the mood to go down this road when we have dinner with your girlfriend in an hour.”

“how about…” he trails off, standing up on his legs and striding over to you, “…we stop talking about this, and do something else?”

his large hands snake around your hips, pulling you closer into his warmth. he brushes your hair behind your ear, dragging his lips down your lobe to your neck. you melt into him, your thoughts escaping you and blissfully falling into the ignorance you know so well. he drags his lips up to your jawline, peppering kisses before planting a chaste one on your parted lips. he’s not going to give you what you want — he doesn’t believe in dessert before the meal — but a tease for later will get him through the evening.

“i actually brought you something,” he speaks against your lips. your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he removes himself from you, rummaging in his pants pocket to retrieve something; a piece of cloth? “something for you to wear.”

you narrow your eyes into slits, trying to focus on the piece of fabric he holds in his hands. soon, your eyes widen when you realize it is not what you thought it was: vibrating panties, with the little toy sewn in and all. you had discussed playing with it before, but on a night like tonight? you weren’t exactly jumping at the opportunity. “aus…” you begin, but he shuts you up with one stern look.

“i didn’t bring it to ask if you were okay with it.”

his tone is laced with dominance. he’s well aware what he’s asking of you: he’s asking you to hold yourself together while you crumble piece by piece, in front of a packed restaurant. even with the fear and adrenaline of getting caught, you both know it was no use denying that you would submit to him no matter if you tried to object or not. “but, but —“

“sugar, you know you’re not gonna get your way.”

it rolls off his tongue like a bad habit; he knows just what to call you to mold you like putty in his hands.

“but i’ve been good,” you say, expression bleak, eyes falling down to your feet. you feel small, as he towers over you with an unspeakable force, as the balance shifts back into his palms.

“i know, baby,” he reaches out to caress your face, his thumb imprinting upon your cheekbone. “but you got us in this mess in the first place, didn’t you?”

you’re used to the vile words that rot you to your core, and you’re used to brainwashing yourself to believe everything he says. it’s no different when he says it now, standing in your bedroom, eyes gleaming with hunger, panties hanging from his index finger like a white flag. so, you nod, bobbing your head up and down like a slinky, shakily taking the panties from his hand. “good girl,” he remarks.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

an hour later, austin butler finds himself seated next to his girlfriend, across from his other girlfriend — that’s all he could use to describe what you two had — remote control burning a hole in his pocket. his arm is draped loosely over the edge of kaia’s chair, mindlessly tuning in and out of the conversation. he could barely breathe with the knowledge that he controlled your entire body; your pleasures, your desires, your highs and your lows.

you’re shocked by his apprehensiveness towards pressing the green button on the remote. it had been twenty minutes since you three sat down for your meal, and his finger hadn’t lingered near his pocket once. you’re almost certain he’s waiting for a moment where you’re at your most vulnerable, like a predator hiding in the shadows for its prey.

“so, [y/n], have you decided if you’re taking that brand deal with celine?” kaia asks, sipping from her glass of chardonnay, leaning back into her chair. her body languages indicates she would like to be as close as austin as possible, and you can’t help the twinge of burning jealousy that rages through you.

“i’m not sure yet,” you shrug. it wasn’t out of the realm of conversation topics to discuss your jobs. you had met kaia through a modeling gig, a show that you didn’t even want to participate in. she was the only person there who had made you feel seen, like you were more beyond the clothes and jewelry you adorned yourself in. she had made you feel real again, after months of staring at yourself in the mirror wondering if you were just an imposter. “think i’m gonna shelf it now in case i hear back from another brand.”

“really? i would’ve thought you’d go for it,” she says enthusiastically, “you really fit their style.”

“yeah, i guess,” you’re eager to switch the topic to anything but you; you’re too on edge to speak. your eyes flicker over to austin for just a millisecond, and he meets your gaze, allowing himself to escape in you for just that pocket of time. “what about you, kaia? are you gonna walk in new york fashion week?”

“probably!” she sits upright, placing a gentle hand on austin’s thigh. you’re praying she doesn’t notice how your entire body tenses up at the contact; austin, however, notes it. “my mom’s kinda pushing me to do it though.”

“you’ll do great,” you reply encouragingly. “you’re one of the best out there.”

“you really are, baby,” austin leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek, and she giggles at his public display of affection. and just as you think to yourself i fucking hate him, it’s almost as if he can read your mind, and his finger reaches into his pocket, pressing that little green button that turns on the vibrator nestled perfectly on your clitoris.

shit, shit, shit.

it’s a steady stream of stimulation, profanities airborne in your brain as your hand comes into contact with the table, grasping the edge of the wood for stability. kaia doesn’t bat an eyelash. your knuckles are nearly turning white as austin keeps the pace stable, eyes darkening as he watches your unadulterated reaction for any signs of you falling apart.

now it’s your turn to ignore the conversation at hand; kaia and austin fade off into the distance as you press your thighs together, hoping to relieve some of the tension occurring between your core. despite being entangled in conversation with kaia, out of the corner of his eye, he’s inspecting you intently. the second he suspects you might experience a moment of painless pleasure, he lowers the settings within the confines of his pocket. now, it dwindles down to just a measly buzz, pleads bubbling up inside of you. your eyes meet his, bottom lip drawn in between your teeth. he just continues on with kaia.

you sit there numbly, dissolving into pieces as he teeters you over the edge just to reel you back in, like he always does. you’re so absorbed in the sensation against your core that you don’t even hear kaia repeatedly call out your name. somehow, you finally comprehend words, snapping out of your trance. “[y/n?] hello, earth to [y/n],” she jokingly snaps her fingers at you.

“s-sorry,” you manage to stutter out, but to no avail sounding like a child having stage fright. “you know how i am, silly ol’ me, lost in my thoughts.”

you don’t even have to look at austin to know his lips are curled up into a complacent smug.

“right..” she trails off, and if she lets on to your antics, she doesn’t show it, just moves on. “well, i was asking if you’d wanna split the charcuterie board. i know you’re a sucker for brie cheese.”

“uh, yeah, yup, that’s good,” you rush to say before austin decides to torture you again. your fingernails dig into your thighs, leaving marks that you’re sure you’ll have to hide later. his nimble finger reaches into his pocket, upping the speed to a 3, enough to make you squirm in your chair.

your cheeks burn with anticipation, bottom lip red and swollen from chewing on it repeatedly. you’re nearly certain you’ve soaked through your underwear. the room feels as if it’s spinning as you slip down a path you know all too well, mesmerized by the feeling of losing yourself at his mercy.

the noise of your phone buzzing repeatedly against the table jolts you back to reality, back to the conversation kaia and austin are having, back to the way the weight of his gaze falls upon you as his eyes gesture to your cell phone. you shakily pick it up, thighs clenched and all, and read what he managed to text you even with kaia so near.

austin

don’t you dare think about cumming.

your entire being shatters at the text. your fingers don’t come near to the keyboard, eyes just slowly inching up to meet his, a sinister smile plastered on his face as he pretends to scour the menu. your legs shake with longing, to have that release, to let it all go.

to: austin

please, i’m begging

you look back up at him eagerly. instead of responding with a text, he just shakes his head slightly, putting his phone back into his pocket and leaving you out to dry. you’re so drunk on the ecstasy of the vibrations that you don’t notice his wavering hand on kaia’s thigh, the way it lingers for just a few seconds too long.

kaia has looked over at you numerous times, but she thought nothing of it, chalking your silence up to the fact that you just never seemed to like her boyfriends. oh, how you wished that was the case.

“hi! my name’s katie, i’ll be taking your order today! what can i get started for you guys?”

god fucking damnit.

you know what’s coming before he even does it. that’s how well you know his tricks. he glares over at you, finger pushing on the button that brings you up to a 5; the highest setting possible. the waitress is no more than 20 years old, ice blonde and eyes full of light and life, her cheeks a rosy tint, lips bubblegum pink. you ache to be in her shoes, sinless and incorrupt. she pays no mind to the way you’re seated in your chair, fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of your wine glass, chest heaving.

kaia’s voice echoes somewhere, “hi! can we get the charcuterie board? me and her are gonna share it.” you don’t even have the willpower to look in her direction.

the waitress collects her menu, notepad pointed towards austin. his raspy voice utters, “i’m just gonna get the steak. medium rare, please.”

“and, for you?”

you’re mute. silent. absolutely and utterly speechless kaia’s eyebrows furrow, this time, a concerned expression painting itself on her face. “[y/n]?”

sweat beads at your forehead as you swallow thickly, letting out a shaky exhale. “i-i, uh, um.”

you know it’ll be worse if you don’t speak, but somehow you hide behind your words, unable to form a coherent thought with the vibrator pressing into your bundle of nerves, austin’s gaze locked into you. you’re stuck. a mere depiction of what you’ve been since you started sleeping with him two months ago. “can i, um, can i just get, the, oh, the caesar salad?”

there’s a moan tucked into your sentence somewhere, and your brain is screaming, crying, hoping that there’s some form of release coming your way. the inconspicuous waitress asks if you would like any grilled chicken on it. your body is on fire, taking you apart piece by piece, limb by limb, as you stagger on the edge of your orgasm.

you’re aware that when you stop talking, all will know something is wrong. when you attempt to hold your breath, try to anchor yourself by tightly gripping the stem of your wine glass, biting the inside of your cheek roughly enough to draw blood, you’re nothing but his property. “are you okay?” the waitress asks, eyebrows raised.

“she’s fine,” austin reassures. “i think we’re all good here.”

and it’s as if he has a spell on you, his voice powerful enough to send you over that edge. just like that, you’re cumming. you know you’re going to be punished for it at a later date, but none of it matters, anything to calm the storm that was brewing within you. your face turns pale, and your palm meets the tabletop, slamming down on it. kaia is startled by the noise, watching as you squeeze your eyes tight, tight, tight and bury your face in your hands.

stars explode in your vision, different hues flying across your sight as you let your juices splatter onto the chair. austin, however, could care less. he already got what he wanted.

he has you appearing so strung out, and so in agony that your best friend is extending her arm out to comfort you, asking what’s wrong with pleading eyes. but, under the roof of that restaurant, sitting in a chair that was too big to fill you now, your body so tiny and fragile, you’re lulling yourself from the depths of your orgasm, your words from earlier in the week persistently darting in your brain: all yours, all yours, all yours.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

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delfiore · 3 years ago

Text

we’ll be a fine line

pairing: florence pugh x reader

synopsis: the last couple of months before your relationship with florence is truly over.

a/n: have i written way too many flo fics? yes. will i stop? no, no i don’t think so.

word count: 2.2k

now playing:

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

In the five years that you have been with Florence, you had come to know her too well. That was why when she sat you down and told you that she wanted to break up, you weren’t shocked by any means.

“We’ve been spending too much time away from each other that it barely feels like a relationship anymore.” She said in a quiet voice. “We’re just roommates now, and I just don’t feel the way I should feel, the way I do in the beginning anymore.”

You were there at the beginning. You were there to watch her climb the ladder of Hollywood elite. Every casting call, every shoot, every interview, you would be behind the scenes to reassure her, to be her biggest fan. Even when no one believed in her, you did.

The beginning was magical. You were just two callow fools in love against the world. You felt the weight of it of late, the way its gravity has been trying to pull you apart, piece by piece, until all that was left were the hollow shells of your past selves. And how do you love when you’ve barely got anything left to give anymore?

“If that’s how you feel,” you averted your eyes, “then I have no right to chain you down.”

“You’re not even going to fight for us?” Flo whispered, her voice cracking.

“I want to. You know I want to.” And so did yours. “But you also know that it’ll come to nothing in the end.”

You watched as her shoulders and head dropped, squeezing her eyes shut to swallow tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Flo. Hey, look at me. You deserve to be happy, and I will always do anything to make you so.”

As she launched herself into your arms, you drew deep breaths to stop yourself from crying. You needed to be strong for her.

“You know I’ll always love you.” She mumbled in your neck. “Always.”

You smiled and rubbed her back. “I know. I love you too.”

Flo had been looking for a temporary apartment to stay in until she could find a permanent home to move into, and you have been helping her. You have decided to remain good friends, as you two bore no hard feelings towards each other.

Once she had found one, the process of packing her things and bringing them to her new home began, and you helped her with that too. Slowly, your once-filling home began to vacate, half of its things packed in neat boxes, the spot they once claimed for years suddenly too empty. You stood in the hallway staring at the blank wall where Flo’s arts once hung, the ones she had been so excited about hanging up while you were renovating the house together, and pretended the emptiness didn’t rip at your heart.

Flo never told you, but she heard you cry in your room that first night. When she got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night (she wasn’t used to using the guest bathroom where she stayed and went to the main bedroom instead), she heard your broken sobs, the way they trip over themselves as you tried to calm yourself down but failed. She was grateful to you for being so supportive; it reminded her that she needed to have you in her life if it was only as a best friend.

While she was going through miscellaneous things that sat under the coffee table, Flo came across a stack of film photos that you had taken over the years, each of them a flash of memories that she could recall exactly as they happened. There was one of her and Billie covered in mud with her cracking the biggest smile and the dog licked her face, and another of her making a funny face before the Disneyland castle. There was even one of her, naked, in a hotel room in Florence.

“Stop it.” She trailed her words before bursting into a fit of giggles, trying to avert your incessant tapping of her nose.

You followed her giggles, and propped your head on your hand, looking down at her.

“I’m so lucky.” You whispered to yourself, but Flo heard you. She smiled wide as you leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, your hand tracing her neck down to her naked torso.

“I wanna marry you one day.” You mumbled into her lips. “Let’s come back and get married right here in Florence. It’ll be Florence’s wedding in Florence!”

She laughed at your childlike enthusiasm and wrapped her arms around your neck. “And you’ll become Mrs. Pugh then, yeah?”

“Eh,” You scrunched your nose, “I was thinking you’d be Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Let’s hyphenate our last names.”

“Deal.” You smiled.

Just as Flo was pulling you down for another kiss, you sprung out of bed and walked towards the vanity table at the other end of the room.

“I wanna capture this.” You grabbed your camera and brought it to your eye. “To show our kids later on.”

“I just agreed to get married and you’re already thinking about kids?” Flo laughed.

“Yeah, two. And another pup for Billie to play with.”

“Alright, fine.”

Click.

Flo let out a quiet laugh, as she wiped the tears that have been trickling down her cheeks. She heard footsteps and the couch dipping beside her, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you only placed a loving arm around her shoulder and rubbed it slightly.

“You can have these if you want.” You offered quietly.

“But you took these. I don’t want to take them all from you.” She put the pictures back into the stack.

“You can have the ones of you.”

“That’s most of them.”

“True.” You laughed quietly. “Still, I want you to have them, only if you want to, of course.”

She sniffled and nodded.

Flo had noticed the way you became quieter, your stance less comfortable the way she remembered it, but your smile, though weaker, was still warm and made her feel at ease. Sometimes she wondered if she had made a mistake.

Time was moving faster than you could keep up with. Most of her stuff was in the new apartment, only a manageable chunk she left to transport with her last U-Haul ride over there.

“Maybe I’ll get that grand piano now.” You joked. “To fill up some of the space.”

She looked away when she thought she saw a hint of sadness in your eyes despite your smile.

The day before she moved out, it was raining cats and dogs. You and she proceeded as you always have; stay indoors and have a cozy, rainy day in. When dinner time rolled around, you offered to cook.

“You’ve always been the one to cook me these fancy meals.” You said with a small laugh, bending down to take out a skillet from the cupboard.

“Did it take us breaking up for you to finally cook for me?”

She knew as soon as she said it that it was stupid to say. You avoided her eyes and smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Flo said, scrunching her nose.

“No worries.” You smiled kindly. “Wanna be my sous-chef?”

You could be a really good cook if you tried, she thought. The way you stir the sauce with care, not to mention you had a good taste for seasoning. You just never experimented in the kitchen, frankly because there was no need. She would be the one trying out the new recipes, and you happily became her taster. She couldn’t remember the last time she really sat down and ate with you like this.

“Remember that time when you said ‘Thanks, you too’ back to the server after he said ‘Enjoy your meal’? And then you made us leave right after? We never went back to that place!”

“Okay, but when you were so drunk you ran into the doors of the tube and everyone saw! Oh god, Y/N, how we didn’t end up in the papers was a miracle!”

Flo was laughing so hard that she could barely breathe. She remembered the stories in her mind vividly, but the way you recounted them, with your knack for storytelling, made them ten times funnier. She loved the smile on your face, how it spread across your cheeks and creased at the corner of your eyes, and made your eyes sparkle in the dim light.

“That was so long ago now, wasn’t it?” You shook your head.

“Yeah, that was after our third date,” Flo said.

“Wow.” You smiled to yourself. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

“I hope we don’t stop.” She spoke. Then she realized that might have been misleading. “Having fun.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “We were good friends long before we were together.”

“Here’s to even more unforgettable memories.” She raised her wine glass.

Before long, she was cleaning up in the kitchen with you. She chose to scrub the dishes and pans more carefully, making sure they were spotless for the next time you use them.

“Goodnight.” You said in the softest voice. She said the same to you, and watched you move towards the end of the hallway to what was once your shared bedroom.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not find the fatigue in her to sleep. She knew she had to be well-rested for tomorrow to move, but swirling in her head were a million thoughts. Flo was going crazy. She wanted to tear her hair out. No matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn’t rid itself of you. Were you in the other room sleeping, on the right side of the bed and curling your body towards the left because that’s where she used to sleep, or were you lying awake and staring at the ceiling, angry at yourself too because you couldn’t stop thinking about her?

Flo sat up before her mind could process it. Her legs put themselves in front of one another again and again. She didn’t want to admit it yet because there was a lot at stake. All the weeks she could have done something, but she didn’t. The decision was final, and yet here she was—she was going to your room.

The walk felt like forever, even though it was only a couple of rooms away. Fear started creeping through the back of her mind, but then she heard footsteps on the other end of the hallway, where you would be resting. She looked up, and there you were, steps away outside your bedroom door, looking back at her with the same astonished look on your face. Your chest heaved under a plain pajama shirt, bathed in moonlight. You took a step closer, and waited. But you knew her too well, you knew what she wanted, and you knew that she would give in.

In a quick motion, you scooped her into your arms and your mouth attacked hers. The roughness of it all elicited a heavy sigh from Flo and she tightened her arms’ grip around your neck, keeping you close. She let you carry her back into the old bedroom where you slept, the one she hadn’t been in so long.

Flo kissed you, hard and passionate and soft and slow, as she tried to taste the most of you. The hunger she’s felt bubbling the past few weeks collided over the edge as she hooked her legs around your waist to keep you closer.

But then suddenly, you stopped. The look you gave her she couldn’t quite read. Your eyes flickered between hers, maybe trying to read her minds too as she was trying to read yours. Your lower lip twitched and you let out the smallest sniffle, proceeding to collapse onto her chest with a loud, broken sob.

She wrapped her arms around you without hesitation. There was no one else in the world she’d rather be with right then, and she needed to make sure that you were okay, even if this would complicate things tomorrow. For now, she needed to be yours, even if she stopped when she broke up with you.

Her heart still belonged to you, wholly, violently, magnificently.

“Stay here tonight, just once more.” You spoke against her neck, your warm breath heating, burning her alive.

She clutched you closer, and planted a kiss on your forehead.

Flo awoke the next morning to an empty bed. When she went downstairs to look for you, she found you in the kitchen making breakfast. It was eight forty-nine, and the U-Haul truck would be here soon.

You whipped your head around, flashed her a sad smile that she wished you didn’t give her, and extended your arm for her to dock herself into.

In the five years that she’s been with you, she had come to know you as well as you did her. She knew that you knew you both need the space to grow as individuals, and maybe, when the time is right, you would find each other again.

Flo rubbed your back, and smiled.

#florence pugh x reader #florence pugh imagine #florence pugh imagines #florence pugh x you #florence pugh angst #yelena belova x reader

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savorysatori · 4 years ago

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— 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘. ✗

“choke me, spank me, look at me, thank me.”

— sypnosis: working as a maid in a new house is very exciting, you get the money and everything goes well. although, once you’re introduced to the son of the parents, everything goes down hill.

cw, warning: size kink (?), creep!ushi, pictures without consent, nipple play, gn!reader, non-con, somnophilia, sloppy sex, dry humping, praise, panty stealer ushi.

% wc: 2234.

↷ a/n: y’all have no idea how long this was sitting in my drafts, for fucking 5 weeks plsssss- anyways I hope you all enjoy! this was rlly fun to do. also! shoutout to daisy, this collab was really cool! congratulations on 1K bb. <//3

— @daisy-bakugo, PORNSCAPE EVENT! ilyy.

You were everything he wanted, everything he fantasized about.

[1,000.]

That’s how much they were paying.

It was enough to have you accept the job immediately. It was enough to have you choose between two of the slightly revealing maid dresses and enough for you to be standing in front of the wakatoshi mansion. Briefcase in hand with a bucket of supplies you were instructed to bring. Everything was just right, you were prepared to clean, everything would go well.

The frilly material of the skirt swayed around your thighs and glided against the softness of your thigh-highs. Glistening jewels of your gold bracelets glimmering in the hot sun shining down on your skin. The thin line of thread held up the damp clothes, shredding any of the excess water soaked into them. All of the Wakatoshi’s clothing were fancy. Gold lining stitched in the middle or at the end of the cloth, it was clear they were wealthy. But, it somehow amazed you when your eyes glided to the very end of the line — some shirts & shorts were childlike. Pictures of guns and cars were painted onto a black shirt, it looked like something a 5th grader would do. ‘Maybe they had a child?’ You didn’t know, you only met the parents. Folding up the dry ones, you’d stuff them into the cart and push them towards the other line of clothes swishing in the breezy wind.

You finished doing the daily chores, slipping into their kitchen that was designed well with a beautiful interior. Cold marble was felt up against your skin as you tipped the bottle of wine into your glass, clacking against it. Your glossy lips propped up against the cup and took small sips of the fruity flavor. It slid down your throat and surged a zing of bitterness back up to take in the taste, so sweet and yet so unpleasant at the same time. You’d lick the juice off your lips and place it down steadily on the counter, looking up to see a heady gaze sharped on you.

6’2 and steady build towering over you with dark olive hair — was the wakatoshi’s son. Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Your body stayed still, unmoving. He wasn’t anywhere near a 3rd grader - more like a full grown adult. Tongue peeking out from your teeth to lick the dryness seeping between the cracks, your eyelids hooded.

“Uh- Hello! You must the wakatoshi’s son, I’m the new maid.” Extending your hand out to meet his; his hand stayed at his side, not seeming to shift to engulf yours. You’d drop it back beside you and nipped at your lip when the silence between you both continued.

“Well, I’ll see you around. Nice to meet you.. Ushijima! Your parents told me about you.”

You’d excuse yourself away from his intimidating gaze and close the door behind you. Maybe it’s a good idea to introduce myself another time.

The same look from before followed you out of the kitchen, watching you as you’d take up the laundry basket. His eyes kept gawking at your every move. Staring with every bit of emotion nobody could decipher, Toshi wasn’t a very talkative man and it was visible. He situated himself in the shadows and looked from above, staying out of any scandals his parents were exposed to. He did keep his eye on you. Stepping out of his secure area and making every note to try and approach you without seeming like a creep. His creep intentions did creep up back into his system when you started staying at his house, sleeping in a guest room 8 feet away from his room. It was easy; so easy to sneak into it when the moon raised in the dead of night.

Soft thuds of his feet against the carpet thankfully didn’t alert anyone, giving him the time to steal peeps at your sleeping state. Comforter pulled up. Oversized shirt to cover up the intimate parts of your body he dearly wanted to explore. Soft breaths left your pink lips to breathe it in again, his cock stirring at the sound of it. Toshi knew what was right from wrong, he knew that doing something like this would cost his life — but, dear god you were everything he dreamed of. He couldn’t stop now.

His calloused hands raised the shirt for him to be able to see your tummy, sliding his fingers down to the waistband of your panties. They were so simple and adorned your skin beautifully, keeping the heat between your legs warm just for him. His free hand unzipped his jeans and let them pool at his ankles, such as his boxers. You stirred slightly at the foreign touch, brows creasing forward. He stilled until you relaxed back into slumber, his fingers separated your thighs, and slowly slid the oozing head of his cock between them.

“Ah, princess, f-fuuck.” breath ragged, eyes shut closed to take in the bliss. Contentment streamed through him, his hips rocking against you to feel more, more of you. He was greedy. Toshi was insatiable, he wanted everything of you. He didn’t just want — he needed you. It was a plea. A whine for you, a need. The selfishness ran through his family, that’s how he inherited it. From his family. Was he ashamed? No. Not when you felt so good right now, not when he was about to reach the orgasm he was climbing to.

Sweat fanned down his toned chest, abs glistening with droplets of precipitation. His hips rocked forward one last time, cum spurting from his head and between the soft flesh of your thighs. It was sticky and slimy, rolling down to cover every little spot.

The sight of you sleeping soundly while his cum leaked from between your thighs, made the flaccid touch of his cock stir. You were just so pretty, a pretty little something he wanted to scoop up for himself. And he would do it with no trouble whatsoever. His hand slid down to grab his phone from the floor, lying face down. Toshi aimed right in the frame, snapping a picture for later. He stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans and scurried away from your room, not bothering to clean up the mess of his dry cum smeared on you.

Pressing the ‘start’ button you watched the clothes in the machine swirl with bubbles of soap clouding over them. One hand on the machine and knocking it occasionally to make it turn on again. “Barely working.” You’d mutter.

Despite the Wakatoshi’s being filthy rich, their laundry room wasn’t at all cooperative. There were brown pieces of wood peeling off the wall with stains of what seemed to look like dry substance splattered on it. A bunch of plastic bags and socks were pushed to the corner of the room, dirty ones to be exact. Not much laid in the room other than the things you had listed — except for the posters of lewd manga hanging from the cluttered shelves.

The cool air of the basement door opening brushed up against you, your eyes drifting to see who it was. Standing there was Toshi. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. His expression was the same as always, stern and uninterested. You were both met with the silence from yesterday, uneasiness creeping up back to you.

Bothering not to talk, you turned back to the machine to see it at twenty-one minutes. It was almost done and you could leave to wrench away from the awkward silence you were sitting in. You could still feel his presence, you knew he was there and it was uncomfortable. So many questions were left unanswered in your head, you couldn’t understand them.

The back of your skirt was flipped up to meet your back, his clothed length pressed against you. He was hard. There was no doubt he wasn’t big, and that was what made your eye sockets almost swell out. He slowly rocked the fabric of your panties along with his bulge. Fingernails digging into your hip and pushing you up more to gain more access and spread your legs.

“Ushijima-“ words of confusion scrabbled out from your mouth quickly, “w-what are you doing?”

“Shh.” He jabbed the curve of your back and made you lay pressed against the cold exterior of the rattling washing machine. His words flustered you, it provoked you to stay quiet. You had never heard his voice before and a situation like this only shook your brain into a deeper hole of complication. “J-Just — let me do this, let me try it out. Once.”

And you did. You let him try it just once, you let him delude into the fantasy he had been dreaming of. You let him do it. Once.

You calmed down from the aftershock of his tongue sending you to see stars, arms jerking when the feeling of his hot touch pressing your face against the door of the machine. Your fingers tightening around the handle and pulling on it slightly, cheeks swelling up with heat. The sounds of your whimpers and tiny jolts sent him to push along more, arm encircling around your stomach, his voice breathy against the shell of your ear. You were like a succubus, a being he couldn’t leave nor escape, so alluring, sweet and he had just met you not too long ago.

The smack of his cock meeting his stomach caused you to crank your head back, looking over to see a beautiful sight. Ushijima’s cock was thick, curving gently upwards. The skin was a light shade of cream, and the head was large, pink, expanding tip. “Ushi-“ your voice was wavery, unsure paring with it.

He’d shush you again, angling your leg up as his lips pressed a kiss to your glistening cunt. Toshi took notice of your expressions when he slid into the warmth delves; brows creased together and little words scampering out from your lips. Latching onto the handle and pulling it ever so often when he hit a certain spot, whenever the tip of his cock caressed against your cervix- it was so beautiful seeing you be reduced to a quivering, blubbering mess. A surreal sight he would only see.

“You’re so damn tight. So wet, so willing.. just like that baby.” The pump of his hips made you lose yourself over and over again, a mixture of sounds that were all kinds of slobbery and slurred due to your dizziness. His pace picked up with renewed energy, slick and wet sounds fill the air, sweaty bodies clamping against each other. The whines and pants of his name being drowned out, so pathetic- clinging to the latch and crumbling under his touch. It drove him like a mad man, his brain clattering, the way you took him in with no problem amazed him, you were so inviting and supple.

“S’too b-big! Ushi- ah! -“

The whines of him being too big impaled itself into his brain, your shivering body and cunt wrapped around all together had already made him blank out, now with your pleas, it caused a switch in his head to flip and jack-hammer himself into you. Pump after pump. It made your eyelashes flutter with droplets of tears risking to stream down the fat of your cheeks. His hands holding you firmly, brows furrowed with grunts flowing into your right ear. A grunt rippled from him as his cock throbbed harshly inside you, the feeling making him come undone right there.

“Just like that, ah, fuck you make me feel so good.”

Wrinkled skirt falling to the floor, his cock pulling out of you slowly with globs of cum dribbling out of you, he’d shuffle around till you faced him fully now with a perplexed look on your face. The shirt becoming loose as Toshi’s lips wrapped around the sensitive nipple, suckling and easing any leftover moans out from your throat. His hands placing you on the machine and attaching his lips back onto your nipple, tongue flat against your sweaty skin.

“Fuck, U-Ushi! holy- fuck, just like that.” Your back straining as you leaned back, gasping and threading your fingers through his hair to balance. Toshi wasn’t one with words, his statue being quiet and still. But, words poured out from his lips at the sound of your moans, when you were so good for him.

“So, good.. pretty. pretty, like a beauty.” He pulled off of it with a squelch, standing up high and cupping your chin to stare in your love drunk eyes. “You were so good for me, yeah?”

You nodded, vision hazy and eyes occasionally blinking to peer up at him with a blurry image. Your head rested in the crook of his neck, sniffling as he picked up the soiled panties from the floor and stuffed them into his back pocket. They were red and pink, swirly designs on them, he found them so cute. He slid your legs around him and walked out of the room, leaving the washing machine to rattle in the background with soap and water overflowing onto the ground.

Ushijima just couldn’t leave you after that day, he stuck to you like glue. Who could blame him? You were everything he wanted, everything he had fantasized about.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #pornscape collab!!👒#cw noncon #cw somnophilia #cw size kink

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

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the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

“About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

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dreamingofscully · 2 years ago

Text

Surely, to the sea (3/7)

read on ao3 - chapter 1 / chapter 2

Rated: T Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Horror, Established Relationship

Playlists: Spotify, Youtube.

@today-in-fic

CHAPTER 3

That evening, Mulder and Scully found themselves in a small room up on the second floor, lit by the soft, warm glow of candlelight. Pink diaphanous curtains fluttered in the breeze from the open window. Delicate white bed frames stood on opposite sides of the room. An armoire took up an entire corner, doodled hearts and names hidden at the base. Locked in time, from when Boyle’s twin daughters, Gloria and Gail, were still a part of his life. Sorrow and pride flashed in his eyes when the older man spoke of them. Thinking about her own tight-knit family, she wondered what had happened to tear his apart.

“So what do you think, Scully?”

Mulder lounged on one of the twin beds, while she sat at the small vanity and brushed her hair. Although she’d changed into a simple cotton nightgown, demure enough should she need to emerge from their room at night, she felt him tracing the line of her bare shoulder and the slope of her neck with his gaze. As she applied her cold cream she noted the flush blooming on her chest and rising to color her cheeks. Taking her time to put her cosmetics away, she gathered her thoughts.

“I have a theory that could explain some of his symptoms.”

Mulder grunted, and she heard the rustle of a bag and the crack of a sunflower seed. Swiveling on the small stool, she tried to look stern but failed utterly once she saw the look on his face. God, he was gorgeous. Clad in a thin cotton undershirt and boxer shorts, his hair disheveled and flopping over his forehead, begging for her intervention. The impish smile and the way his appreciative eyes grazed over her.

“I’m not going to be picking shells from the bed, am I?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you come over here and check?” He winked and patted the small space beside him.

She ignored him, and the spark that kindled between her thighs. Clearing her throat, she crossed her arms and tried her best to look unimpressed. The case. The case, Dana. She looked at the wall behind him and counted the stripes while she spoke.

“I know his symptoms are unusual, but presuming the physicians that examined Boyle ruled out the most common diseases that would explain his clinical presentation, there are still several conditions that I’m certain weren’t even pursued. The… the neurological symptoms, the arthropathy, the cachexia--”

“Whoa, Scully, you know I love it when you talk to me like that, but… what?”

She paused, suppressing a smile. “The muscle soreness and unexplained weight loss. There’s something called Besnier-Boeck-Schaumann disease. It doesn’t fit the primary symptoms, but that’s not unusual. If he consents, I want to examine him tomorrow, check for papules or plaques along his back and extremities. It’s definitely not something an everyday family physician would think to look into.”

Mulder set the bag of seeds on the nightstand. “There’s more to him than the physical symptoms. Some sort of… presence. You two had a bit of a moment down there. I’m wondering if I should be jealous.”

“Well, what’s your theory then?”

Mulder shrugged.

“Possession? Radiation, a chemical contaminant or a high-frequency sound would explain the absence of wildlife surrounding his property, but it's also a sign of demonic possession. He quoted scripture, though, and didn’t shy away when I showed him my cross. And his priest would have called in an exorcist if they suspected anything. No, I don’t think you’d suspect the influence of a demonic entity.”

She sighed at Mulder’s continued silence.

“A haunting, maybe? A spirit focused upon him or the house? It might explain the electrical problems, the radio interference. How worn down he is from being tormented in his sleep… but he never reported any strange noises or objects being displaced. No temperature changes. And he hasn’t reported the feeling of a presence. I don’t think you’d go in that— what?”

“Scully,” Mulder was staring at her with a dazed expression, a smile spreading on his face. “I don’t know how it’s possible but I just fell in love with you all over again.”

“That’s not very helpful,” she said, though her chest tightened at his words. She nodded at the notepad on the nightstand beside him. “You’ve been looking at that symbol as if you recognize it.”

He grabbed the notepad and flipped to the page where he’d drawn the image, staring at it. “It’s like an itch in the back of my mind, Scully. Vaguely familiar.”

“What does it remind you of?”

He glanced at her, swallowed, then turned back to the page. “I-I’m not certain.”

“You’re the worst liar, Mulder.”

His mouth tilted up, but he didn’t look at her or speak.

“Talk to me.”

“It looks like something I remember, but not exactly.”

“Remember from where?”

He traced his finger over the symbol. “You didn’t want to know about it, Scully.”

She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. It was unusual for him to keep things from her. Usually, it was her that didn’t trust herself enough to open up. But Mulder? He shared everything. And the only reason he hadn’t been completely transparent about his work lately was because he’d been giving her space.

“The cult,” she stated.

“Yeah.”

A memory flashed through her head from their last case. Shadows and flickering light. An abandoned hospital corridor. Mulder taking off to chase something she pointed out. Then he was gone. Her frantic search. The basement. Earth and iron-tinged air. The image of him lying on that table: bloody and half-naked, surrounded by hooded figures. That night still haunted her dreams.

What snared her mind, digging in with sharp claws, was how they’d manage to escape. She did something. Reached inside herself. And because of her everyone in that room was dead. She’d been… trying not to think about it. Or talk about it. Mulder respected that and gave her space. A niggling part of her brain wished he loved her less and pushed her harder. Instead, it was up to her to push herself. Her heart raced.

“I need to know.”

He searched her eyes. “You sure?”

Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

“C’mere.”

Taking her time, she blew out the candles scattered around the room and pulled back the curtains, bathing the room in moonlight. Outside, the night sky was flooded with stars. Her heart rate slowed while she picked out her favorite constellations among the celestial backdrop.

A single candle on the nightstand enveloped Mulder in golden light. The notepad laid abandoned on his stomach, his attention focused upon her. Inserting herself next to him, she closed her eyes and breathed him in. Soap, the earthiness of his sunflower seeds, and the comforting masculine scent that was just him. Wrapping her arm around his ribcage, she squeezed.

“Hey, Scully, if you don’t stop wiggling we’re going to have to violate our non-consorting rule,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

She giggled. “There’s not much room. I can move, if you’d prefer.”

“Not a chance.” His fingers wound through her hair and he brushed his hand along her shoulder.

Her gaze was inevitably drawn to the notebook, rising and falling with his breath. From this angle she couldn’t see much of his hastily-scrawled drawing, yet couldn’t tear herself away. Apprehension tore away at the edges of the comfortable place she’d forced herself to inhabit.

“The symbol reminds me of one I saw in the basement,” he started. She latched onto Mulder’s shirt. “I’d been there a while before you came, gave me a chance to look around.”

“Only you, Mulder, would be able to memorize your surroundings in a time like that.”

He shrugged. “I saw it in some of the books Xandros gave me afterwards.”

“But it’s not exactly the same one?”

“No, it’s upside down and there’s some additional lines.” He lifted the notepad, indicating the parts of the image that didn’t fit.

Her stomach twisted once again. Even she could not deny the significance. No coincidence, then. She swallowed, breathing through her nose.

“It hurts to look at it, Mulder.”

He closed the page.

“No, I’ll be okay,” she insisted.

“I shouldn’t have… Maybe this is too soon.”

“No, Mulder.” She leaned up on an elbow and looked him in the eye. “Boyle needs our help. I’ve spent enough time trying to deny what happened. I’ll be fine.”

His mouth twisted. “What if… Scully, when you collapsed during our last case I was terrified. I-I didn’t know what was going on, if you were going to be okay.”

His worried face was the first thing she saw when she woke up in a hospital a few hours later. He’d carried her out of there, and she could only imagine how it had made him feel. Maybe it wasn’t all on her for denying what happened. Maybe he thought he could do this all on his own, and by leaving her out he could protect her. A flash of stubbornness crowded out her uneasiness.

“I’m okay,” she emphasized. “And we’re a team. Don’t forget that.”

“Never.” His eyes shone at her.

“Show me.”

He opened the book again. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to examine the symbol with an objective eye. Separating herself to look at it like she would a corpse on her autopsy table. A victim, yes, but with answers written in their flesh. Justice, or closure for their families, that only she could give.

She thought about post-mortem injuries, how they masked cause of death. Instead of looking at the wounds as a whole, she had to examine them as events that told an entire story, separating them in her mind.

“If you take out the symbol you recognize, what are you left with?” she asked.

“Huh.” Mulder flipped the page and started sketching. She felt him vibrate underneath her. “I think these could represent a pair of letters. J’s or G’s maybe. That’s it, Scully - you’re a God-damned genius!”

“Mul--”

He kissed her soundly, running his thumb across her cheeks. Heat rose from the base of her spine, expanding across her limbs. When he pulled away, much too soon, she forgot what she was protesting.

She settled back onto his chest, his attention already back on the new symbols he’d drawn. This was how it was supposed to work. Unlike the last few weeks, isolated from each other. Pretending things were normal. Her smile faltered.

“Tell me about it,” she said. She’d lain in ignorance far too long.

“The symbol?”

“What do you know about it?”

“Well, it represents something called a chthonian,” he started. “The cultists have adopted it from a Greek word, ‘khthon’, which translates to ‘under, or beneath the earth’. It was commonly used to represent Greek Gods associated with the underworld - Hades and Persephone - and the rituals and cults that surrounded them. Although the cult use it for their own purposes rather than the original meaning.”

Toying with the hem of his shirt as he told his tale, she let herself relax. Felt her nerves settle with the timbre of his voice.

“For the cult, a chthonian is a subterranean creature with worm-like bodies and tentacles. It burrows through the earth, consuming it. Although it usually lives close to the earth’s core, there have been stories of people encountering it in caves and other underground passages close to the surface.”

“You think we’re dealing with a giant worm?”

“Maybe? The symbol is our only clue so far, but it’s been altered, and upside-down. I don’t know enough about the language to know if that’s significant. When I read up about all of these things, this was only one creature of many--”

“Mulder, I don’t… It’s one thing to know that these cultists are performing dark rituals, human sacrifice. But monsters out of some storybook? We never saw any evidence of that.”

“Scully, Xandros and his Cohort have been studying these things for centuries.”

“And you trust him?” She leaned up on her elbow.

He exhaled. “No, I don’t. But I’ve seen things, Scully. And you’ve experienced them.”

He chewed on his lower lip. She nodded, averting her gaze and laying back down.

“I don’t know what the connection is, yet. Perhaps it’s only symbolic, a curse placed upon him. Or maybe there is such a creature here, and it’s somehow feeding off Boyle? Or he’s not being entirely truthful about his involvement. What we do know is that he was targeted.”

He rambled on for several more minutes, and she listened. She wasn’t sure if she was ready, but she didn’t have a choice. Her eyes drifted closed, though sleep still felt far away. Endorphins. Released into her bloodstream during pleasurable activities - sex and exercise, and in her case, discussing cases with Mulder. She’d missed this. She sighed, kissed his palm.

His voice faded, his arm tightening around her. “I’ve missed talking to you, babe. Missed you.”

“I just thought the same thing.” She tilted her head to look up at him.

He ran his finger along the bridge of her nose. “We’ll figure this out, Scully. I promise you that.”

If anyone could find answers, it would be him.

“For now, let’s sleep, unless…” He waggled his eyebrows.

“No, Mulder,” she laughed, wishing she could say yes.

“Worth a shot.” Mulder pouted, a twinkle in his eye. He put the notebook and pen on the nightstand. Blew out the candle. Cool light of the moon and stars surrounded them. He pressed his lips against her forehead, lingering there for several breaths. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Before long, Mulder’s breathing evened out and his soft snores vibrated against her ear. She pulled the thin sheet around her. She recited the names of the muscles in her hand. Counted Mulder’s breaths and tried to match their easy cadence. Buried her nose against the thin cotton of his shirt. Still, her mind would not settle.

She forced herself to focus on other things. The first time they slept in the same room, watching over Mulder’s sister when she was sick. He didn’t sleep, didn’t talk. His presence was enough to ease her mind, even then. She pretended to sleep, watching his silhouette in the cover of darkness. Wanted to tell him to join her on the long couch instead of sitting uncomfortably on the green velvet chair. To feel his arms around her, his warmth.

She nuzzled closer. Pretended to sleep. Imagined herself finding the courage to ask him to hold her that night. Her unease drifted in the back of her mind, still there, but muffled by memories. Finally, sleep claimed her.

#my fic #xf fanfic #alternate universe #project c #surely to the sea #au #historical au #horror

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yeahimaloser · 4 years ago

Text

Wingless

Hello! So this was the fic I've been working on, and I just wanted to quickly say this is an AU-based fic (Kinda).

WARNING MANGA SPOILERS

So I understand what's going on in the manga, but I started this fic when Keigo was injured. so I wrote a fic about how Keigo and you would deal with him losing both his wings and a part of himself.

this story contains manga spoilers, as well as warnings of mental and physical abuse (kind of), hurt to comfort, mentions of Depression, blood, someone gets glass stuck in their hand, and therapy.

no pronouns are given to the reader. Word count: 7k

. . .

You practically ran through the hospital, not listening to the nurses and doctors as they told you to slow your pace. Your mind only screamed out for him, screaming for him to be alive, for him to just be okay. You could hear your heart thumping hard against your chest, tears spilling down your cheeks.

As you ran near his room, a doctor finally managed to stop you.

“Please, calm down! He’s in this room but I can not allow you in if you act like this. You will only stress my patient out more, and we have just managed to sedate him.” the doctor held out his hands as he spoke, trying to calm you.

Although, it clearly wasn’t working. Your eyes only shone more with brimming tears, your hands shook as the doctor spoke.

After a few minutes of you catching your breath and calming yourself down, the doctor told you that you were able to see him.

You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you walked through the doors to his hospital room.

The window that overlooked the city gave an impressive view (if it wasn’t in a hospital, you probably would have stopped and looked down at the city below). The bathroom, you could see, was on your left. There was even a vanity and a television in the room as well.

But you really didn’t have time to look around, your eyes were already focused on the man that lay on the hospital bed.

Machines were hooked up to him, tubes ran out of his skin every witch way. He was flipped on his stomach to accommodate his wings or lack thereof. Bandages covered almost every area you could see, the blood on them was minimal, yet they looked new, meaning they had been changed.

You rushed to his side, stopping only when the line of his IV almost collide with your foot.

“Keigo,” you said it so lightly you were afraid only you could even hear it.

But Keigo’s eyes shot open, looking up at you, “...Y/N?”

God, his voice was a raspy mess, it sounded as though it wasn’t even his.

If you could, you would break down right then and there. Crying over him, telling him you were there for him, that you would always be there for him, no matter the hardships he was sure to overcome. You wanted desperately to hold him, to whisper love-filled words to him, to wipe away the pain you knew he was feeling.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t.

You knew you had to be strong for him in that moment, and for all the moments yet to come. You knew that what was going to happen to you two would not be easy.

So you couldn’t cry, no matter how much you wanted to.

You lightly stroked his cheek, “I’m here Kei, I’m right here. I won't leave you.”

Silent tears ran down his face as he spoke, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”

----

After what happened with Dabi Toya, the commission tried their best to cover everything up, telling the public that Dabi had to be wrong. But the public eye was persistent.

The truth was out, there was nothing you or Keigo could do to stop it. Everyone knew about his name, his father, and what he had done to Twice, as well as the fact that he had lost to Dabi. You knew it would be hard for him to come back to that.

The media had always been a bit ruthless when it came to Keigo, but now, it was up by tenfold. They talked about how they believed that Keigo was not worthy of his hero title. A false hero they called him.

And Keigo?

Luckily, he didn’t hear very much of it. You made sure of that. You wanted him to rest, to let what had happened wash over him little by little, and you knew if he heard what the news had been saying about him, that he might never recover.

When Keigo was a bit more stable, he still rarely talked.

His eyes didn’t shine like they used to, his face, once so uplifting and beautiful, was marred with a long scar that he had on his face.

But no matter what, you stayed with him, no matter what, you would be by his side.

But seeing Keigo like this? It was unbearable.

He would only eat if you were there to persuade him, he would only look at you if you practically begged him to.

You knew it was a selfish want, you knew it was, but you wanted your Keigo back. You wanted the man who held you in his arms, telling you he would fly to the moon and back if it meant you would give him your love. You wanted the man that stopped at nothing to protect others, you wanted the man that smiled when the going got tough, you wanted Keigo.

But you had to accept that this was Keigo.

And you wouldn’t leave him, you couldn’t. He was always there for you when you needed him most, and you weren’t going to do the same.

After what had happened with Keigo, the commission thought it would be best to send him away, let the media storm die down, letting him also take time to heal his wings.

You had to fight them in order to come as well. At first, they told you that Hawks should just be concerned with getting his wings back and becoming “hero ready”.

You should have known. You knew, of course, that the HPSC was corrupted, but you didn’t think they were heartless. Yet, you were proven wrong.

You wished they could understand, you wished everyone could understand. Keigo was so loving and kind, you just wished people would understand that about him. What Keigo had to do to Twice… you knew he didn’t want to kill him, Keigo wasn’t like that. He didn’t take pleaser in violence, all he wanted was to see others happy.

And it made your blood boil that the higher up’s couldn’t understand.

You told them how Keigo needed someone to be his caretaker, and you would be the best candidate. You knew he wouldn’t object, you told them that you would work for free, seeing as he and you had been dating, as well as living together for the last few years.

Finally, with a lot of persuading, they agreed.

They sent you and Keigo to a remote location near the shores of Japan, seeing as they wanted Keigo to not remember the effects of the fight, and thought the best course of action was to send him so far out that he would have nothing to remind him of, “The Incident”.

The house was a small little thing, a lot smaller than what you and Keigo were used to at least.

It was close to the ocean, giving it a more country feeling rather than the city vibe you and Keigo used to live in. The smell of the ocean hit you full force when you two arrived, the salty, yet homie smell was a nice difference to the fullness of the air of the city.

The home had a total of seven rooms, all on the same floor.

The master bedroom had enough space, it fit a bed, a vanity, and a closet as well as a connection to the master bathroom. The walls were painted a low white, you wouldn’t call it cream however that was the closest rendition. The floors were all wood, you could feel the sand beneath your feet, you had a feeling the stuff would get everywhere.

There were three bathrooms, a guest room, a living room, and a kitchen.

The whole house honestly just felt...nice.

The floors felt grainy against your feet, but it felt weirdly cozy, kind of like how a beach house should feel. The carpeting was a bit musty for your taste, you had a feeling that would be your first project to do with the house. The couch was a bit too firm, you expected that, but still, it just needed to be worn in. The kitchen wasn’t big, but for two people, it would do.

You spent the first week moving in, all by yourself.

Keigo would only stay in bed, looking out the window, in some far-off world he was in.

You wanted to cry when you would walk into the master bedroom and see him upright on the mattress, not doing or saying anything, just staring, a shell of the man you once knew.

It made your heart clench though, normally, Keigo would always be the first to lend a helping hand, that was just his nature, to want to help. But this, this was something that broke you even more.

-----

The first few weeks were rough.

Not hard, just rough.

The only way you could even describe Keigo was just numb.

His eyes were sunken, his hair a tattered mess. His face was droopy, the once perfect-looking man now sat alone in bed, looking as though he was almost near death.

And his scar.

It served as a perfect reminder of what had happened, a symbol of the pain Keigo had gone through. You knew what he felt when he saw it, you knew what he was probably thinking when he looked in the mirror to have the long stripe of red and pink looking back at him.

Yet, you pretended not to notice.

He would barely say anything to you, choosing instead, to be silent.

For the first few days, it was hard to get him out of bed, hard for him to even eat anything.

On most days you found yourself sitting alone when you ate, going on walks by yourself on the sandy beach, watching TV all alone.

You missed him, it was hard not to. But you knew that this was hardest on Keigo, so of course, you let him have all the time he needed. Letting him sulk and wallow in his self-pity, letting his feelings shroud him. You felt as though you had to, he had every right to feel this way.

But it was hard.

It was hard having Keigo sleep in the master bedroom while you slept all alone in the guest, it was hard to be so silent in the house, it was hard living with someone who was basically a ghost.

One day though, you found him crying.

You quickly ran over to him, scared that he had somehow hurt himself. But he didn’t, nothing had happened to him.

But he sat straight up in his bed, shaking like he was cold, his hands wrapped around something you couldn’t see.

“Keigo, honey?” you asked carefully as you stepped into the room, “Is everything ok hun?”

But it was like he couldn’t even hear you, whatever he was holding, it certainly had his attention.

You walked slowly over to him, reaching out to him, like he was a wounded animal, “Keigo? What is it?”

Finally, you managed to see what it was.

It was a picture of him, of him with his beautiful red wings, smiling at the camera in his hero outfit, with one hand giving a thumbs up and the other around your waist.

In comparison to the picture, you could barely tell it was Keigo anymore. With his sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones, the scar is a stripe of change.

“Keigo I-” you took a deep breath, what were you supposed to even say? How could you even console him? How could you help ease his pain?

You couldn’t.

So you just held him, held him in your arms, trying to hide your tears from him, so he wouldn’t see you hurting as well.

. . .

But one day, when you were sitting on the porch of your borrowed home, watching the waves hit the sandy beach below, watching the sun as it hit the horizon.

It was bitter-sweet, you were all alone, watching the beautiful sight without anyone to share it with.

You sighed, contemplating whether or not to go back inside, but then... Keigo came.

It startled you, you weren’t expecting him to come off his bed, much less to see you.

He sat down in the nice little chair that was right next to you.

He didn’t say anything for a good few moments, but then, all of a sudden he spoke.

“The ocean looks really pretty, I like...I like being here with you.”

You were shocked, to say the least. Keigo had barely acknowledged your presence during this time, he hadn’t spoken to you at all during these few weeks. So to hear him say that...

You damn near cried.

You had been holding in your anxiousness and, overall, depression of not having Keigo back to his regular self. It was hard, that much was certain, but still, he was going through such a difficult time, you had to be there for him.

You quickly brushed the tear that had feel from your eye, “I-I like being here with you too.”

----

After that, things were...different.

Keigo was a bit more clingy, although, maybe you should say protective.

You would go out on your walks and would come home to him being upset, asking where you were, and fussing about you going out.

“Well, what if something happened? Just stay here.”

You asked the doctors about that, they told you how some patients latched on to certain things or people after a traumatic event, most of the time clinging desperately to what they felt was the only thing they had left.

They told you his newfound desire to be near you could be a sign of him getting worse, or it could be a sign he was getting better.

The doctor told you it was much more likely that Keigo needed something to hang on to, a sort of attachment. And again, they told you Keigo needed to see a therapist, he had so much trauma after the battle that you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You knew that you should listen and that you probably couldn’t deal with Keigo all on your own. But still, you wanted to move at Keigo's pace, and you knew he needed time.

. . .

The first night you and Keigo spent in the same bed after what had happened was...strange.

Although you two lived in the same little beach house for a month now, you two haven't slept next to one another, you weren’t sure Keigo was ready just yet.

And yet, he was the one who asked you.

It happened on a normal day, while you were making dinner when Keigo spoke.

“Hey...Y/N..” you turned back to him, giving him your full attention, “Could we….could we try sleeping together? I know...I know it’s been some time but-”

“Yes!” you hastily accepted, “I mean...only if you want to.”

And so, you found yourself curled up next to Keigo, feeling him cuddled up to you, which was nice of course, but his body felt stiff like it didn’t want to be close to you.

The whole experience was… different. Normally, Keigo would wrap his arms around you, holding you against him, holding you securely and tightly, like you knew he wouldn’t let you go.

But this, this was different, but you should have expected that by now. You should have known that, now, it was so unlikely that you would ever see the old version of Keigo again.

And then it was there again, that slap of guilt, that pang of hurt at your own thought. How could you think that? Keigo was hurting, and you were upset that he was in pain?

You bit your lip, quietly willing yourself not to cry.

------

Keigo’s mood swings would happen randomly, with no merit at all.

One moment, he was blindly looking at the TV, the next he would be offering to help with dinner, then the next he was screaming at you to add more pepper to the onions.

When his first outburst happened, you blamed yourself.

You had left Keigo for what only seemed like a moment, going outside to feel the air on your face, wanting to just get out of the stuffy little cottage.

You were just watching from the porch when you heard it.

The sound of glass shattering.

You whipped your head to the sound, to find it coming from inside.

You rushed inside, running towards the kitchen.

“Keigo!” you cried out.

You stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, looking down at Keigo on the floor.

A glass of some sort had broken in Keigo’s hand, from what you could tell. It seemed like he had gotten some of it stuck in his hand, blood dripped onto the floor, sticking to the hardwood floor.

Keigo just stared, his eyes the most lively you’ve seen them in weeks. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, just staring at his hand, looking at the blood as it dripped...dripped...dripped.

And then, he screamed.

It was so loud and so unexpected you quickly covered your ears, trying to block out the head-splitting sound.

When you finally regained your composure, you rushed down to Keigo's side, trying your best to help him.

But Keigo shoved you away.

“No! Stop! Go away! I-I don’t wanna hurt anymore! Stop it, leave me alone!” he scooted away from you, holding out his palms, trying to make you leave.

But you wouldn’t.

Slowly, you spoke, “Keigo, I need to help you, ok? I’m not here to hurt you, baby, I’m Y/N, I love you.”

You inched closer and closer as Keigo hiccuped and sniffed.

“Stop it! Don’t c-come any closer!”

You stilled, only for a moment. Then, you moved forward again.

“Honey, I have to clean your wound, please baby.”

Keigo’s breath still raged, but he let you come closer.

Before you even looked at the wound on his hand, you gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Keigo was shocked, flinching a bit at first.

You carefully picked up his hand, observing it lightly. The glass pricked his hand, but the overall damage wasn’t all that bad, it might have been worse if you hadn’t rushed to him.

You took a deep breath, “Keigo, I’m gonna need to remove the glass-”

But Keigo cut you off, “No no no no no, please. Please, I don’t wanna get hurt again. Please.”

“Keigo,” you stroked your cheek lightly, “it’s ok, it’s me, it’s Y/N.”

You purse your lips, thinking for a moment, “Remember when I got that splinter from the hardwood at that crummy hot spring? And remember how you had to pull it out? And remember how scared I was?”

He thought for a moment as if the memory was buried deep inside him, a lifetime ago. He nodded, tears still running down his face.

“It’s gonna be like that, ok? Quick, and I’ll be right there with you, just like you were for me.”

After a moment, Keigo nodded.

You made quick work of the glass, helping Keigo through the little whimpers and hiccups he let out.

Keigo was never like this before, never fighting over glass in his hand, he was a hero, he dealt with pain daily. But this Keigo was beyond damaged. He was ripped in half, put through more pain than you would ever understand, the mental strain of that had to be so much, it had to weigh on him.

The thought only made your resolve stronger, only made your need to see Keigo get better that much more secure.

After you had bandaged his hand, kissing his knuckles and wrist softly in order to calm him down, you noticed how exhausted he was.

“Do you wanna go and take a nap, Kei?”

He nodded.

You walked him to the room, helping him to bed.

You planted a small kiss on his lips before moving away to leave.

But Keigo caught the fabric of your shirt, pulling on it lightly, “Wait.”

You turned back to face him, “Yeah. what's up Kei?”

“Um, could you...join me?”

Your body perked up. This was one of the first times he had seemed...needy for contact with you. Sure, he still slept next to you, but you figured that was mainly due to some comfortability. But the way Keigo was looking at you right now? His eyes softened with desperation, his body, while still heavy with drowsiness, had enough strength to pull you to him. He seemed to genuinely want you to stay.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile, “Of course I can Keigo.”

You slid into the spot next to him, and Keigo had his arms immediately around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His face nuzzled softly into your neck, his whole body trapping you in a needed embrace.

You played with his hair, giving yourself a mental note that you needed to wash it and brush it out later.

That's when you heard the sniffling in your neck.

“Kei,” you said gently, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few labored breaths for Keigo to respond, “I’m sorry.”

At first, you were confused. What did Keigo have to be sorry about? He had done nothing wrong to you, he hadn’t said anything bad to you, the most he had really done was worry you. But he continued.

“I’m sorry for being so weak, for letting myself get like this, it’s all my fault. And I’m sorry I’m a burden for you, I know how much you loved me, how much you loved being with a strong hero,” he took another shaky breath before continuing, “But I can't. I can’t do it anymore. It hurts so bad. And now, no one wants me. I’m a failure, they’re right,” Keigo squeezed you tighter as if you would leave him too, “I’m a false hero. I failed everyone, the commission, my friends, Tokoyami. And you,” he looked back up at you, “why are you even here? I’m useless now, why can’t you see that? Why won’t you just leave? It would be better for you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had been crying before you felt how shaky your voice was, “No. Keigo that’s not true, I love-”

But he cut you off, “No!” he bolted upright, “Stop it! Stop it Y/N! I’m not who you love, that Keigo is dead and gone, look at me! I’m a shell of who he was, I’m the failure he left behind! Christ Y/N, I fucking broke down because I had fucking glass in my hand!”

He cupped his ears, seemingly trying to block out some sort of noise that you couldn’t even hear. Rocking back and forth lightly, his bandaged hand squeezing hard on his left ear.

“Keigo stop it,” you tried to get his hand away, “you're going to hurt yourself!”

After fighting him for a moment, you finally got him to put his hands down. You pulled him to you, placing his head on your chest as you calmed him down.

“Kei,” you said after a long stretch of silence, “I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

Keigo hiccuped, “B-but.”

You shushed him, “No but’s. I’m here to stay, it’ll be hard, I know that, but I can’t leave you.”

For the first time in God now’s how long, Keigo reached up and kissed you.

It wasn’t a light, small little peck either, it was a sloppy, desired-filled kiss. You were shocked at first, seeing as how he was yelling at you a second ago, but you let yourself indulge a bit. You craved Keigo, missed his lips, his strong, protective hands that run up your body, you just missed him really.

Your hand moved down to his chest, pulling him deeper. His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you more in.

His teeth clashed against yours, and maybe it was because you two haven't done this in so long, or it was because neither of you cared.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan as Keigo pushed more against you, pushing you near the head of the bed.

After a few moments of the kiss, you pulled away.

“Please,” Keigo whispered lightly, “Please don’t leave me.”

------

After that, the situation with you and Keigo became so much more complicated.

Keigo would become so irritable, that you had to stand outside for hours just for him to calm down.

But the worst was when he acted so apologetic afterward, saying his, “I’m sorry”’s over and over again, sputtering about how he would, “do better.”

Of course, you felt like absolute shit, wanting to scream, to cry, to leave even. But you couldn’t. Keigo was in so much pain, you had to be strong now, you had to be there for him like he had been for you. You shoved down your tears, fighting the urge to scream and cry, waiting out your feelings.

Was it a bad coping mechanism? Yes. But you already felt so useless, you didn’t want to be a burden too.

For a while, you had hoped that he would help himself get better, you had hoped that he really was trying to get better and understand how to help himself more, but as time went on, you saw how naive you were.

You realized that Keigo was almost beyond repair, some days he would be silently upset, not talking or saying anything. While others you could hear it in his voice.

While some days you came into your shared room to see him curled up on the bed, crying and whimpering. And then there was you, unable to help, unable to tell him how, “it would be ok,” how, “I’m here for you, Kei.”

Because you knew he wouldn’t listen.

And yet, he would never yell at you, never scream or degrade you, he would only seem to be mad at...himself.

Yet, it was strange, because he seemed to grow more and more protective of you.

If you were to leave the house, he would become upset, saying how; “You could have gotten hurt, next time either take me with you or stay...please.”

It was strange how he always asked, how he never demanded.

But today, today was different.

You had noticed that Keigo was especially irritable, so you decided to just stay out of his way. Deciding to work on meal prep, because of Keigo’s accident the doctors told you to watch his meals carefully, making sure he eats a well-balanced meal each and every day.

Maybe Keigo would calm down, maybe today could still be ok, maybe you could salvage the day and make it a good one.

But that was before the broadcast.

. . .

You were outside that day, watching as the sun showned on the ocean.

You wished silently that Keigo could have enough strength to come out and see it with you. Yet, you didn’t push him.

Keigo, on the other hand, was watching some TV. Well, "watch" was a strong word. Keigo’s eyes were far off again, You never asked him what he was thinking about, but you knew it had to be something but what happened.

As you watch the waves crash against the shore, and the sun slowly sets, that's when it happened.

The broadcast.

At first, the broadcast was only just a news reporter talking about how; “us as a society must look forward, through these dark times.” Talking about the loss of certain Hero’s and civilians alike.

but the segment right after that, that's what sent Hawks into his spiral.

“And now, what has happened to the pro hero known as Hawks? And I posed a question to all of our viewers out there, should he be forgiven? Can a man who ruthlessly killed someone, even a villain, be considered a hero?”

You weren't there when the news reporter posed the question, you were only there for the aftermath.

At first, Keigo was in shock, and then, his outburst happened.

It was the worst outburst since the accident. He was screaming, yelling, hitting anything, he just needed some way to get his anger out.

When you heard the commotion, you immediately ran inside, worried that something may have hurt him. But as you went inside, you realized that there was nothing wrong, at least not from what you could see. But to Keigo, everything was wrong.

When you came in, all you could hear was yelling, “What was it all for?! I just...I just wanted to help!”

You were stunted into silence, only being able to watch from afar.

It was like you couldn’t move, your body glued down to the floor, unable to help Keigo.

And then, he hit the TV, hard.

And that's when you finally spoke.

“Keigo stop!”

You rushed forward, grabbing his arm from hitting the wall.

You latched on to him, “Keigo please, please honey just calm-”

But it was too late, and before you knew what was happening, Keigo had thrown you on the ground.

You landed on your hands, cushioning your fall, but that didn’t mean it hurt.

For a moment, everything was still, everything was silent. Keigo wasn’t yelling, he wasn't screaming, and when you looked back up, the only thing you saw was true horror and guilt.

You panted lightly, your eyes blown wide as you stared back up at Keigo.

“...Y/N-”

What was he to say?

He didn’t know.

“K-Keigo,” you were at a complete loss for words.

After a few more minutes, you stood back up. You took one, shaky breath, before you spoke.

“Keigo, I’m sorry. I-I...I can’t do this right now. It’s just… this is all too much for me right now. I think I need to clear my head.”

You moved past him, not even looking him in the eye. How could you? Your mind was a mess, a thousand thoughts jumbled through your brain.

You opened the door quickly, taking your car keys before you left, refusing to look back.

----

The ocean waves looked stunning in the sunlight, it might have been the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

At least, you would have if the tears in your eyes weren’t blocking out your vision.

And your head wouldn’t stop spinning. Was Keigo ok? Should you go back? Could you even go back? What would you even say to him?

No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that leaving Keigo behind was for the best, that you two just needed to be away from each other, you felt like your heart was being slowly stabbed through with needles, one for every second away.

You sniffed, wiping away your tears with the back of your palm.

There had to be a way Keigo could get better, some way you could help. But every thought eluded you, how could you help someone so far gone?

You thought back to the doctor's suggestion of getting a therapist, maybe it was time. Keigo was getting too out of hand for you, and as much as you loved him, you knew that this was hurting him as much as you.

A sigh escaped your lips, why did this have to be so difficult?

And that thought came to you again.

Why couldn’t he just be himself again?

You shivered at your own selfish, hurtful thoughts. Keigo was still him, he just needed help, and thinking about how much you wanted the old him back wasn’t going to help him or you. And it wasn’t fair either, to expect that after what happened he would just be fine.

You knew you would always be there for him, but you supposed you didn’t think it would be this hard.

You placed your face in your hands.

How the hell could you help him? You felt as though Keigo was on the edge of a mountain, and you were the only thing he could grab onto, but now, he was pulling you down with him.

A small, shaky sigh escaped you.

Crunch, crunch.

Footsteps. Fast approaching, almost running.

You cocked your head up, preparing to be kicked off whoever's land that you were on (considering how you just decided to drive to the middle of nowhere).

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that this was public-”

But you stopped mid-sentence.

There stood Keigo, tears streamed down his cheeks, his panting breaths and sweat glistening from his body must have meant he came all the way out here on foot.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could get a word in, Keigo had bent down to you.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still in shock, “N-no.”

He sighed, but his face concentrated like he was thinking too hard, “I’m sorry.” and then, a long, silent pause, “I don’t...I don’t know what else to say.”

“...I don’t either,” you looked back up at him again. “You could have really hurt me, and I just don’t know how to deal with all this. I don’t know how to deal with...you.”

Keigo flinched, the implications of your words stung.

“It’s just...I want to be there for you, I really do, but it’s so hard,” you looked down tears threatening to escape, “I love you s-so much, b-but,” a silent hiccup went through you, “I don’t know how to help anymore.”

Keigo stayed silent, his words trapped under his tongue. He also didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to help himself too, but he knew deep down he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. But he hated what he was doing to you, he hated what he was making you go through.

“Keigo,” he looked back up at you, “Do you still love me?”

Keigo stared wide-eyed back to you, his words at a loss. “I- of course, I do Y/N-”

“Then why don’t you say it?”

He paused, “...What do you mean?”

You sighed, “Have you noticed that ever since what happened, you’ve not been able to say ‘I love you,' to me? Because I have. Each morning I wake up, and I always say, ‘good morning Kei, I love you,’ and you never say it back. It feels like I’m just invisible to you. I don’t want to look at you as something to fix, or as something to make me feel miserable, but I can’t live with someone who just sees me like a ghost.”

It took a while before Keigo finally responded.

“I don’t see you as a ghost,” he said, his voice as low as a whisper, “it’s that I see me as the ghost. I lost...I lost a big part of me in that fight.”

Subconsciously, he reaches back to his used-to-be wings, his fingers flinching when nothing is there.

“Keigo, you are not your wings.”

“How can you say that when everything I was...was built off of them?”

You leaned forward, a hand placed lightly on his cheek, “Your wings did not build our relationship, we did. And we still have each other. Your wings were never the reason I loved you, your wings were always just a part of you, they were never you.”

Keigo looked back at you, placing a hand on top of yours. After a few, dragged-out moments, Keigo leaned into you. But not before whispering lightly on your lips, “I do love you, Y/N.”

. . .

Things were hard, but they were better.

It had been three weeks since the accident that happened with you and Keigo. He agreed to go to a therapist, after what happened with you two, he wanted to get help.

What neither you nor he expected though, was for his therapist to also recommend you get help as well.

In his words; “After understanding the stress that Mr. Takami has gone through, as well the details that he has shared with me, I believe that it is necessary for you to also have some sort of mental treatment. Keigo was not in the right state of mind for a very long time, and you were the only person here to look after him. I believe you first need to talk about your problems separately and then move on to couples therapy. Some of the actions Mr. Takami has put you through may have had negative effects on your psyche.”

Although that was a shock to you, Keigo visibly became more saddened after that.

After the conversation with the therapist, Keigo even offered to move out of your shared room.

“If- if you’re uncomfortable with me being here, I can take the spare room.”

You only shook your head no, saying, “I’m not uncomfortable sleeping next to you, Kei, we’re in this together.”

And you were.

Keigo went to his therapist, as did you. At first, you weren’t sure, seeing as Keigo and you would see the same person and how that may make a conflict of interest, but he assured you that Keigo dealt with trauma relating to his fight, as did you of course, but your trauma and anxiety was more based upon him.

So, you made it work.

After a while of one-on-one counseling, you moved to couples therapy.

It was hard, mostly for Keigo, because he didn’t want to admit to himself, or you, that he had hurt you as much as he did.

So, you opened first.

You talked about how scared you were of losing Keigo, not just physically but mentally, how it hurt you that some days he wouldn’t talk to you. You even opened up about missing the old him.

It seemed like when you first opened your mouth, everything just came pouring out.

And so, after you explained your side, slowly, Keigo started to explain his.

He explained how he didn’t want to hurt you, but how he just couldn’t help himself in that moment. He felt like everyone was turning on him, abandoning him, he thought it was only a matter of time before you. And he couldn’t handle how that thought chased him, his mind just became so jumbled and uncertain.

But he wanted to get better, to show you the man you deserved.

Soon, you came to realize how your relationship would never be the same since that day, how you had lost a part of Keigo, and how Keigo had lost a part of himself. And that part, that part split you two, like a deep cut, and now you two had to sew it back together, and you both knew it would be hard.

Losing that part of your life took time, it took practice and understanding, it took watching Keigo wake up in a nightmare, watching as he screamed and all you could do was hush him and stroke his cheek softly as you told him how you were there, even as tears slipped down your cheeks as well.

But you let them, you let yourself show him that you were sharing the pain, that you were together in this.

Keigo was hurting, you knew that, but as your therapist told you; “You are grieving, grieving for that Keigo that died in that battle, and not only are you grieving, you are also trying your best to take care of someone who was already so broken that now they might as well be shards of the vase they once were.”

But that didn’t stop you from explaining how you felt selfish and terrible, how you felt like you were a bad person for feeling upset, for wanting Keigo to go back to you.

After each therapy session, you two would go out and sit on the porch, not doing or saying anything, because you both realized you had said plenty before.

. . .

After a year since then, things had gotten significantly better.

Keigo and you understood the inner workings of your relationship, not only that, you both understand each other a lot better. Understanding how you both needed one another, how you two could only grow to help each other.

Almost a year has passed since the incident with Dabi, a year since Keigo “lost” his wings.

But his wings were back, and he was back.

Although, maybe not fully.

Keigo was almost like a different vision of himself, a more, down to earth, real version of who he was.

Maybe, it was the person he always was, but just never could show it.

With you, he was the most caring he’s ever been.

Watching as you fell asleep in his arms, creasing your body oh-so-perfectly as he kissed you deeply, his sing-song praises in your ear. He loved you so much.

And you, you helped him grow as well. Being there for him, watching him, helping him.

You never left him, you carried out your promise to yourself, keeping him with you no matter what. You loved him so much, and you were so happy to see how he healed.

And here you both were, Watching as the sunset, as the ocean waves tied down, the sun Illuminating the water passing over.

You watched as Keigo’s eyes lit up in the bright light, his scar’s still reflecting the hard past that he's been through, and yet, reminding you how lucky you are.

At that moment you leaned in, giving him a light peck on his cheek.

Keigo turned to you, before laughing, “Why did you do that?"

"Because... I just realized how lucky I am to have you. Thank you, Keigo.”

"There's no need to thank me, dove," he said, kissing you as well "I'll always love you, and I always will be thankful that I have you as well."

#bnha #bnha hawks #mha #hawks #mha keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami #hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo x y/n #mha keigo x reader #mha x reader #hurt to comfort #x readers #hawks imagine #fanfic hawks

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yourtamaki · 4 years ago

Text

all yours

kirishima x f!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: size kink, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), spitting, one ass smack, one bite from shark boy, creampie, slight breeding kink, slight dumbification

being a hero meant you were constantly in the public eye

there was no escaping it when the missions you were assigned were directly tied to your public approval

more people liking you meant bigger, flashier missions

and if they didn’t, well…

at least there was never a shortage of paperwork to be done

you’ve been doing well though! raising through the hero ranks faster than your agency anticipated

faster than you anticipated

it was great! it was everything you’d worked your whole life for

it…it was exhausting

not only did you have a sudden influx of missions to complete as your agency tried to capitalize on the exponential growth

you had also been instructed to have near daily interviews

smiling for the camera was fine until your cheeks started hurting from the strain

it was no wonder that by the third straight month of the endless pattern of gruelling missions followed by repetitive interviews you were physically and mentally drained

your boyfriend did his best to make sure you were taking care of yourself, cooking you lunches and texting you throughout the day to check up on you though there was only so much a fellow pro hero could do with his own busy schedule to attend to

kirishima knew exactly what you were going through and his heart broke whenever he could catch a glimpse of you before you passed out in bed

so when it all came to a head one day, he was more than ready to catch you

just open the door. you were stood frozen in front of the door of your apartment, keys in hand. that’s all you had to do. twist the knob, open the door and he’d be right there. your eiji. he would take one look at you and know exactly what to do to make you feel better. love and comfort were a few steps away and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

the day had beaten you down more than you thought possible. everytime you blinked you could see the flash of bulbs, hear the shouts of reporters or was that the screams from your rescue today? it was all starting to blend together. you were an open wound, pulsating and bleeding vulnerability. how could you let your boyfriend see you like this? weak and broken and barely holding it together. it wasn’t just embarrassing. it was shameful. eiji had been living this life longer then you had, had risen to heights you could only dream of and he did it with ease. meanwhile, a few months had left you a shell of yourself.

you didn’t know a hero could be this pathetic.

just as you were about to turn and take a walk to clear your head, the door swung open. eiji’s head was tilted to the side, his long crimson hair falling over his shoulder loose from its usual ponytail. you couldn’t bring yourself to look in his eyes, afraid of what you’d find. you let your gaze drift upwards, focusing on the small scar above his eye. what if he was disappointed? red riot deserved a partner as strong as him and you did not fit the bill. not anymore.

“i’m home.” you willed your voice to not shake as you crossed the threshold into your home.

“baby.”

“did you eat yet? i’ve been craving pizza from the place down the street we should put in an order.”

“babe.”

“or did you already cook? you’re right no point in spending money if we don’t have to.”

“y/n.” large hands held fast to your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face to face with eiji and being forced to stare into the eyes of the love of your life. “please. talk to me.”

a beat of silence as you bunched the front of his shirt in your fists, vision blurring from unspilled tears. then, “‘m so tired, eiji.”

he wrapped his arms around you and you told him everything. what your agency had demanded of you, the unending stress, the poisonous thoughts that ate away at you everyday. eiji held you together through it all, clinging so hard you could feel his body shake as you spoke.

“we’re gonna talk to your agency tomorrow. they’re pushing their best hero too hard and we’ll tell them to cut the publicity. the people already love you, you don’t have to put up with this.”

“you’ll come with me?” you sniffed. eiji pulled back enough to cup your cheeks, lifting your head up until your watery eyes met his.

“of course i will.” he said, wiping your tears with his thumb. “we’re in this together, you don’t have to go through this alone.”

you leaned into his touch, covering his hand with yours and marveling at the size difference. it never failed to fluster you how much bigger eiji was then you. your definition of safety started and ended with these hands, with the man they belonged to who had loyalty etched into his bones.

he held you like you were something worth protecting.

“i don’t deserve you.” you said, kissing his rough palm.

“don’t say that. don’t ever say that.” he leaned down until your foreheads pressed together and whispered, “do you know how much you mean to me?”

“i know.”

“let me remind you anyway.” with that he surged forward, closing the ever shortening distance between you as his mouth closed over yours.

every kiss with eiji was full of passion, even the chaste goodbyes you shared before heading to work but this one blew them away. he kissed you like he was trying to stitch together all your broken pieces. he kissed you as though he wouldn’t mind if this moment lasted an eternity. he kissed you and he kissed you and he kissed you.

and with everything you had left to give, you kissed him back.

when you broke apart, you had to bite back a moan at the sight before you. eiji looked sinful, red hair falling into his face, lips swollen and eyes locked on yours, dark and half lidded.

“we don’t… we don’t have to… you just got home you’re tired.” he said.

“eiji.” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck to whisper in his ear. “i need you.”

the world blurred as he lifted you up, legs locking around him on instinct as he carried you to the bedroom. a moment later you were dropped onto the soft mattress, feeling it dip as eiji settled over you. a familiar shyness tinged lust set in as he hovered above you. he was just so big. he was caging you in without even trying, he was that much larger than you. your breath hitched as he bent close to kiss your neck, looking anywhere but at him, something that didn’t escape his notice.

“where’d you go, pretty girl? eyes on me.” his voice left no room for disobedience and you complied, keeping your eyes on him as he asked. “there you are. tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“i like… being under you.”

eiji smirked, sharp teeth on full display. “yeah? what do you like about it? use your words for me, baby.”

you could tell how much he was enjoying making you squirm. he knew, of course, the effect he had on you. this was far from the first time your size difference came up in the bedroom but he loved making you say it nonetheless.

“i like that you’re bigger, eiji. you make me feel so safe.” your voice cracked at the honest.

he kissed the corner of your mouth. “always. i’ll die before i let you get hurt, understand me?”

he waits until you nod before snaking his hands under your shirt, removing it in one move. open mouth kisses trails down your neck to the valley between your tits. as much as you loved the foreplay he usually dished out, you were far too needy right now. you grabbed a fistful of his hair, guiding him lower down.

“baby, please.”

“so impatient.” he teased. he grabbed hold of your pants and panties, tugging them off before settling between your legs, one thrown over each of his broad shoulders.

“oh love you’re soaked. who got you this wet?” you let out a small whine of embarrassment, hoping he’d get the message and let you off the hook. a sharp sting on your inner thigh had you trying to close your legs around his head but his grip was too strong to do so. he bit you. eiji must’ve been as riled up as you were, he was always so mindful of his sharp teeth. “i asked you a question, didn’t i?”

“you! you did ‘s all for you eiji!”

“good girl.” he rewarded you by licking a broad stroke through your folds, ending with a flick on your clit that sent pleasure shooting through you. he pressed two fingers inside you with little struggle, scissoring you open to prep you for his cock. you desperately wanted to rock against his face but with one arm pinning your hips down, you could do nothing but take what he gave you.

you were close — so close and eiji, who knew your body better than you did, could feel it by the fluttering of your walls, the arch in your back. it was under his heavy gaze you came undone, thighs shaking as he rode you through your high. if you thought he looked sinful before, now he was downright pornographic, the evidence of your orgasm glistening on his face. he licked the remnants of your arousal of his fingers and grinned.

he pulled away long enough to remove his clothing while you took the time to unclasp your bra and admire the view that was your boyfriend stripping. he caught your blatant stare and winked as he pulled down his briefs, hard cock springing free.

“see something you like?” he said crawling back over you to kiss you, the taste of you still fresh on his tongue. you could feel his dick pressed against your thigh and you grinded against it, earning a delicious groan that spilled into your mouth. “fuck can you ride me baby please? wanna see you fuck yourself on my cock.”

when you nodded, he wrapped one arm beneath you and rolled, flipping you both over so you were straddling him. gripping his shoulders, you lined yourself up with him, slowly sinking down around his girth. eiji’s cock, like the rest of him, was stupid large and the stretch was always there when he entered you. but you relished the feeling all the more, a sense of pride bursting inside you when he managed to bottom out.

you closed your eyes for a moment until the uncomfortable burn dissipated and you were left feeling full, complete with him buried in you. when you opened up your eyes once more, eiji was looking up at you with the softest expression, one you’re familiar with but that made your face warm nonetheless. he looked at you with nothing but love and awe, the corner of his lips quirked in a small smile.

you held out your hands and eiji laced his fingers with yours, helping you balance as you began to bounce.

“there you go.” eiji grunted. “take what you need, i’m all yours.”

“all mine?” you clenched at the thought and he threw his head back at the feeling.

“all yours this cock belongs to you, pretty girl.”

the need to mark him as yours bubbled to the surface and you leaned in close, so close you were sharing air, panting into each other’s mouths.

“eiji.” you moaned, cut off when he bucked up suddenly. “f-fuck eiji i wanna spit in your mouth.”

he opened up without hesitation, tongue lolling out and waiting to receive you. you let the fluid trickle out, watching with fascination as it mixed with eiji’s. he swallowed and showed you his empty mouth.

“dirty girl, so fucking lewd you drive me crazy.” you were grinding your hips against his now, nearly crying from the friction against your clit.

“‘m gonna cum ‘m gonna cum.” you whined, powering through when your thighs began to shake from exhaustion. eiji placed his hands on your hips, guiding them back and forth.

“cum for me baby cum all over your cock.” his words were your undoing, tipping you over the edge as your orgasm washed over you. though you felt boneless after your high, you continued to rock against him.

“wanna feel you fill me up.” you said. “eiji please fuck me full of your cum.”

eiji knew everything about you but you knew him just as well, knew what words would stoke the fire in him and make him lose himself to the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him. and sure enough, he shifted to anchor his feet to the bed, wrapping his arms around you until your tits were pressed against him. he began to fuck up into you hard and fast, the wet smack so loud it made you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“i got you baby i’m gonna pump you so full of cum you’ll be leaking. that's what you want, huh? wanna walk around with my cum dripping down your leg?”

you could only moan in response, the quick pace turning your brain to mush and eiji seemed to sense it.

“did i fuck you dumb, pretty baby?” a smack landed in your ass and you yelped. “answer me.”

“i want your cum want it so bad, please eiji please.”

“that wasn’t hard. good girls get what they ask for.” he bucked up once, twice, three times, liquid heat spilling deep inside you. you shuddered at the feeling of his softening cock slipping out of your, a mixture of both your cum dripping onto eiji.

for a moment you were both quiet, basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “‘m gonna get us cleaned up, love.”

“in a minute i just wanna stay like this for a little bit. is that ok?”

“anything you want.” together you lay, eiji tracing shapes on your bare back, an eternal gratefulness for the man beneath you washing away all the negativity of the months prior. you knew as long as eiji was on your side, you would always be okay.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #kirishima imagine #bnha x reader #bnha smut #kirishima eijiro imagine #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro smut #mha smut #mha imagine #mha x reader #bnha imagine

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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Escape

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Notes: Actual pairing interaction starts in the second section after the Reader character gets out of the elevator, feel free to skip down to that if you like. Reader thinks about Peter in the first section, but it is more setting up how they got so separated from the others, plus a Wolvie cameo. I wanted Peter x Reader to be able to have more interaction away from the group.

Summary: Continuation of previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse. You and the others have been taken to Stryker’s base and must survive to find your way out together.

Warnings: Wolverine cameo advisory with a 100% chance of stabby stab. Mild language.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

——————————

“The day of reckoning is here.”

Your eyes opened at once, that unmistakeable voice now reverberating through your mind as fluorescent lights passed one after another above you.

“Professor?” You breathed aloud, immediately trying to sit up on the moving gurney.

But the restraints were drawn too tightly as your head only rebounded backward just as quickly when your torso didn’t rise in tandem.

“Shit!” the guard to your left cursed, his hand drawing back from the gurney rail at your sudden movement.

You turned your head towards him, confused, even as the professor’s words continued in your mind.

Yet Xavier’s voice sounded strange, forced. And you didn’t understand the context. Was it a warning? A threat to someone?

It didn’t really seem to fit the current circumstances to say it was directed at you or your captors. But he only kept speaking.

“The dawn of a new era will emerge. For there is nothing you can do...to stop what is coming.”

The two guards were looking around too then, reacting in sync with the telepathic message leaving you no doubt that they could hear it as well.

But why would Xavier be in their heads too? Did he already know where you were?

One guard chided the other, as if the two of them didn’t both have the same frightened expression. “Damn stun pulse is wearing off it is all, just hurry up and finish this transport. Colonel Stryker wants it taken to the lower testing bay,”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t hearing that voice?” The other guard retorted, “What the hell is that?”

Did they just call you an ‘it’? What was this place? Not a hospital surely. But you could barely dwell on the implications of the guard’s words ‘lower testing bay’, and the impending threat that represented as your last memories finally began to bubble up.

The X-Mansion in rubble, the helicopters swooping in over the trees, the students and staff unconscious in the grass, that soldier cracking your ribs, and-

Peter.

He was a stranger to you still, but he’d been right there against you. Surely you had drawn more attention to him just because your powers had let you resist a few moments longer than the others. Because you’d been so stubborn, not going down until you’d been forced to.

If these men had hurt any of your friends, you would be furious. But if Peter, who had also saved so many of your friends was now in more severe danger because of your actions, you wouldn’t forgive yourself.

“Where did you take the others!?” You arched against the restraints abruptly, your palms opening to face upward, trying to summon any bit of your energy at all. A wisp, an orb, anything that could have helped you right now. You had to find your friends.

But nothing came. Not even a glow or flicker of what you truly were as you now had both guards’ full attention.

“Freak! Just shut up!” One of them shoved the gurney in retaliation to your outburst, the caster wheels rattling across the concrete floor before the bed rail hit against one of the walls, jarring you painfully.

“Those with the greatest power. Protect those without. That's my message to the world.”

Xavier concluded his words then. And somehow, that sounded more like himself than any of the rest of it. The real meaning still eluded you, but hearing him in that tone at least meant he was okay. He was somewhere urging the rest of you on. At least this part you knew was true as you took a calming breath, realizing panic and anger would serve you nothing right now.

Something was blocking your powers. That much was obvious. It would be unrealistic to think that the effects of any stun weapon would be this long lasting though.

On the other hand, you knew chemicals existed that could also temporarily block mutations. Hank used one almost medicinally whenever he didn’t wish to be in his true “Beast” form. But it had to be injected direct into the veins to have any real effect.

You could feel that they hadn’t removed any of your clothing, nor had they rolled up the long sleeves you were wearing. You doubted they would risk a chemical like that wearing off at an inopportune time and likely would have started an IV if they possessed anything of that nature.

There were no tubes or lines attached to you that you could tell, only the restraints now holding you to this bed. Leather straps across your body, metal cuffs on your ankles and wrists-

But wait, you were able to move your head as you’d already discovered. You shifted it again, trying to get a better feel of what was around your neck. Metal as well, but loose as you could still lift your head up enough to see it just a bit. It and its dull, red status light.

Inhibitor collar, you realized with an all new dread sinking in. You had heard of these of course, but it was the kind of thing that students sheltered at Xavier’s school would never have to dream of really. Something you never thought you’d have to experience personally.

How naive.

But you still couldn’t give up. Your mind was racing as you tried to come up with any strategies now. Your options were so limited, but they couldn’t keep you tied down forever. Surely they’d have to move you to a more permanent containment at some point, untie you if even for a moment.

Yet, there were guns as well. You hadn’t missed that detail, but you considered it more fully now as you glanced to the long barrells swaying behind each guard’s back as they pushed you along.

They were slowing now though. You raised your head enough again to see elevator doors nearing. The lower testing bay, you remembered them saying.

But just as one guard had started to reach for the keypad beside the doors, an alarm blared, all three of you startling at the sound.

Orange lights lit up along the walls, spinning in time with the sirens.

“Weapon X is loose. I repeat, Weapon X is loose!” A man’s unnerved voice sounded over speakers you couldn’t see, echoing down the corridors.

You could only watch as both guards spun around on their heels at that, guns immediately drawn. The one thing you could be absolutely sure of then, was that you were now the very least of their concerns.

Before you could consider how to use this surprise in your favor though, screams and the echo of gunfire erupted seemingly on top of you all.

The guards were terrified. This could be your only chance.

“Take this collar off of me, please! I can help you!” You weren’t begging as much as you were truly trying to reason with them. “Look, this is serious right!?”

More men were screaming just around the corner. Only feet away now. Clearly their time to consider had run out.

You saw one of the guards glance down at you, weighing your offer if just for that moment. The other was still staring straight ahead, gun braced, body rigid.

“FIRE!” The one not looking at you screamed, and that was it. It was too late.

You flinched as the gunfire rang deafening in your ears, the muzzle flashes just above you while empty bullet shells rained onto the floor.

You didn’t know how many bullets their gun magazines could hold, but the barrage seemed to just go on and on until an inhuman snarl rose even above the pounding gunshots.

Like a blur he was upon them. One guard was immediately thrown against a nearby wall, as if he were made of paper. His gun didn’t even faze the attacker.

You were frozen as you had to watch him die in front of you. Metal blades impaled the guard, blood splatter running down the wall as his body fell. You wished the other guard would have just turned and ran, but that probably would have been fruitless now too if you were being honest.

The attacker had turned immediately back around, one slash knocking the gun away from the remaining guard, and the second taking out his throat.

You were too in shock to do anything but close your eyes in the moment you felt some of the blood hit you. It was warm was all you could really process, before you opened your eyes again to now see the killer standing over you.

His breath was fast, eyes black, no emotion evident but rage. He had no clothing on him above the waist, just muscular and bloodied with metal cords coming out of his body and attaching to some sort of helmet.

You heard the random sound of more bits of metal hitting the ground, and thought you saw a few bullets working out in reverse from his flesh.

He was one of you then, a mutant.

But you were afraid to speak. Anything could set him off again.

He was looking down at you, through you really. You thought you saw his eyes go to your throat. The collar? Or maybe you just imagined it. Everything was happening in just seconds.

His arm swung suddenly, those blades were part of him you realized, attached to his fists as they came for you. At least it would be a quick death.

You felt a burning, heard ripping and even the metal of the bed breaking as he struck more than once.

“He’s here!” Someone else screamed from back down the hallway and the gunfire started all over again.

You moved at the sound, why you didn’t know, it should have been all over regardless. But in your amazement, you realized you could move. His claws had broken through the restraints, broken the bolts that held you to the bed. You were bleeding, but only from cuts as he’d grazed you.

He’d freed you.

The gurney tumbled over with a clatter as you jumped from it. But bullets were hitting all around you as the guards continued to fire at him. You still had the inhibitor collar on, so you couldn’t defend from that. You weren’t bulletproof like him.

And he was already charging them again, but there were so many this time. A bullet grazed your arm, and you knew you had to get out of there now.

You turned, hitting the elevator keypad. You had no choice as you wouldn’t make it out of this hallway otherwise. You ducked inside as soon as the doors opened, trying to stay against the sides even as bullets were now hitting the back of the elevator. The only way was down, and you took it.

As the doors closed, and the elevator finally sank below the firing line, you allowed yourself some real breaths.

To think, just hours ago your main concern had only been whether or not you were ready for Hank’s organic chemistry final. You’d laugh if you weren’t still trembling a little, clothes torn and blood all over, most of it not even your own.

Now it was time to find the others and a way out.

—————————

“(Y/N)?” You heard in your mind, pausing in the abandoned hallway you were now wandering down. You’d left the elevator behind some time ago, but hadn’t yet found any other way back off this level.

“Jean?” You answered aloud, both surprised and relieved. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. We are now. I saw them take you too, but where are you?”

Talking to a telepath was always a bit strange. You could feel her own stress and anxiety as she began to fill your mind. She wanted to see what you were seeing.

You looked around you to oblige her, but from what you could tell every corridor only looked like more of the same in this labyrinth.

“I got into an elevator when all the shooting started, when that man-“

“Logan. We met him too. He’s escaped now, he-” She paused, your recent memories now visible to her. “He helped you.”

“He did.” You felt she both was and wasn’t surprised at this.

“Anyway,” She continued as if something was distracting her, like she was physically talking to someone else, while mentally talking to you. “The Professor needs us. We’re sending Peter to find you. He’ll bring you to us and then we’re leaving together.”

“Okay,” Was all you could answer, as you felt Jean leave your mind abruptly at that. You remembered Xavier’s odd speech earlier, something you really hadn’t had time to deconstruct any further with everything else that had happened immediately after. You supposed they would fill you in when you were all reunited.

But you did feel a significant weight leave your shoulders at the mention of Peter’s name, even though it sounded like this horrific day was still far from over. He was okay too then at least. You hadn’t screwed up enough to get him hurt in a way you couldn’t take back.

Yet how long would it take for him to find you? Should you just stay in place, or go back to the elevator now? You hadn’t found any stairwells or other-

“(Y/N)?”

You’d be lying to say you didn’t almost fall over in surprise as a tiny gust of air was the only other thing that announced him as Peter was suddenly standing beside you.

“You’re as bad as Kurt!” You gasped, before you could stop yourself. You clenched one fist at your side, at least having the self control not to punch him right in the arm as you might have done with some of the boys at school if they had given you that kind of scare.

“That’s the blue kid with the tail right? Not to be confused with the big blue hairy guy, he’s the one that told me your name by the way, or the blue famous chick from TV?” He shook his head, but his eyes were amused. “You guys have some kind of quota on the color blue or what?”

You stared at him. He did like to talk didn’t he?

When you didn’t respond right away, you saw his eyes wander down, then back up. “Red said you’d be a bit of a mess, but you sure you’re okay?”

Your shirt was torn from well, now you knew him as Logan...that man’s claws. Those cuts were still bleeding a bit, but the guard’s blood was on you as well. The metal shackles were also still on your wrists and ankles, though their chains had been broken, and the inhibitor collar was around your neck. Yes, you must look quite a sight.

“You mean Jean,” you corrected. She must have given him some warning at least before sending him. “Yeah, I’m fine. So you found another way out of here, we should-”

But he didn’t seem to be listening, either that or you weren’t very convincing on the being okay sentiment.

He looked quite serious all of the sudden. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you when Colonel douchebag was trying to work you over.”

You blinked. What was he talking about?

“Stryker I guess they said his name was, the guy that kicked you back at the house.” He just continued. “That piece of shit bailed already.”

“How did you know about that?” You asked honestly. Peter had been unconscious as far as you’d known.

“I mean I was in and out,” He answered, seemingly understanding your confusion now. “But uh...” He hesitated, kind of an awkward smirk building then. “I definitely remember you laying on me. The impact wasn’t that great, but afterward was pretty nice.”

Your felt a heat rising to your face immediately. The absurdity of being physically embarrassed at his implication and tone, as you stood here literally bleeding in the belly of some mutant torturing black ops lab was not lost on you.

“Look, I...” You didn’t even know what to say, but you knew if you didn’t start talking now you were never going to recover control here. “I’m really glad they didn’t hurt you, and I’m sorry too if I got you involved deeper in all of this. And I want to thank you for pulling everyone out of the mansion this morning. We owe you so much. I just-” Oh man, where were you even going with this? You looked to him still feeling like you were just digging yourself deeper, “You can stop me anytime now you know?”

He was now outright grinning. “You’re welcome, babe.”

Not helping. AT ALL.

You were staring at him again. “They’re going to be waiting on us, you know,” You felt you were going to be pleading with him in a moment.

“I know, places to be, worlds to save...” He just moved closer and you tensed a little bit. He noticed, but stood his ground. “I have to brace you or you’re just going to be hurt even more when I run you back to them.”

“So is that how you do it, then? You’re just that fast?” You asked honestly. His actual mutation wasn’t something there’d been any chance to discuss. You could infer only so many ways he would have been able to evacuate those in the mansion almost instantaneously. But you knew teleporters too, even people who could move through reality on other planes. There was always more than one way to do something.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” He chuckled, smirking enough for you to know he was still just picking with you as one of his hands went behind your head and the other to your ribs to brace you. He really did know where you’d been hit then.

His hands were warm, and you could smell that damn cologne again now as you tried to ready yourself for whatever was about to happen.

You didn’t know what you had expected. You knew how it felt to take off in a jet, or slam the gas pedal down in one of the Professor’s expensive cars, or ride on a really intense roller coaster. But this wasn’t that. There wasn’t even any time for your brain to register the acceleration. It felt like just a single heartbeat before you were standing back in front of those elevator doors with him.

It was the deceleration that hit you. By the time your body knew it was moving, it had already stopped again, your organs lurching and your equilibrium completely thrown off as vertigo took over. You leaned forward immediately, trying not to dry heave as puking seemed almost imminent.

He took one of your hands, his other hand moving down from your ribs to your waist as he helped support you still.

“It’ll pass. It happens to everyone the first time,” He spoke, probably the softest tone you’d heard from him to this point.

“You’re telling me there are people who have been-” You swallowed, fighting that nausea back down. “have been with you multiple times?” You meant to say multiple times like that. People who needed to be rescued this way multiple times. You stood up, still queasy as you tried to face him and correct this blunder immediately. Why did this guy have you so flustered!?

“I’m not normally like this,” you stammered, waiting for some great retort from him as you’d just left yourself wide open with that slip.

It was only then that you realized he still had one hand on your waist, and you were now facing him, just inches apart. And the silence was worse. It was much worse while he was just looking back at you.

“No,” He finally said, “I uh...I don’t have anyone that’s stayed around long enough for that.”

He wasn’t joking at all now and you knew it.

“I didn’t mean...” You started, but stopped again when you didn’t know how to finish.

But the vulnerability was gone just as soon as it’d come. His smirk returned as he let go of you, moving forward to hit the keypad for the elevator. “I did look for stairwells by the way, if you were wondering. It only took me as long as it did to find you down here because this damn elevator is slow as hell.”

You actually were a little relieved to finally be focusing back to the task at hand. But you still felt an unspoken conversation lingering that would need to be continued later. You wanted him to know who you really were.

And honestly...you now wanted to know who he really was.

The harsh buzz from the keypad brought you back to attention as Peter hit it again.

A tiny screen blinked “CODE ERROR” in red as he groaned. “It didn’t need a damn code to come down, that makes no sense!”

You responded in a few moments, realizing the likely truth fairly quickly. “But it would make sense if you were more concerned about things getting out of the lab than you were of things getting in.” The same would be true for the lack of entry and exit points. They surely weren’t concerned with fire safety or anything else but keeping their specimens captive when they built this place.

“Ugh, that’s dark,” He answered, glancing at you and then back to the keypad. “You’re almost making me not feel so bad for all the guys that looked like swiss cheese on the way down here. But lucky for you, you’ve got me, and these five hombres.” He waved his fingers at you before immediately beginning to punch in multiple codes in faster succession than of course would have been possible for anyone else.

“Peter, I don’t think-” You started, already having a good suspicion of how this might play out, before the keypad abruptly quit accepting inputs, the tiny screen then blinking LOCKOUT. The only thing that did surprise you was a new even thicker door suddenly closing over the original elevator doors.

And you couldn’t help it then. You laughed. A real laugh. It was just the dumbest icing on the cake. “Okay, Han Solo. I think that will do.” You didn’t care if he would understand the reference or not. You needed that laugh right now.

But he didn’t let you down. Not even for a moment. “Okay then Leia, then you show me how we’re getting past here to save the ugly little ewoks.”

You were still snickering a little, but you shook your head. “I can’t,” You motioned to the inhibitor collar still around your neck. “Not with this on. It’s blocking my powers.” You had hoped once you were all back topside that Hank would be able to disarm the thing. It was probably radio controlled or something like that. “We’ll have to wait on Jean and the others to realize we’re taking too long, they’ll come for us.”

“I don’t wait,” Peter retorted. “Besides, like I said, I showed you mine. Time to show me yours.” He tilted his head, eyeing you. “Really, I’ve been dying to know.”

“Sure you have,” You were skeptical, but it was actually hard to read him right now. Was he actually that curious about you? “And I’ve already tried to take it off, it doesn’t budge.”

“Again, babe. You didn’t have me before.” The smug tone was back, as he evidently had some plan you didn’t know if you were going to like or not.

“You realize, this thing is nearly against my jugular veins, right? What are you going to do?” You had every right to be hesitant you thought. Especially after the keypad failure.

“Just be still. I’m going to vibrate it apart.” He answered confidently.

Okay, now you really didn’t like this. “Again, head, throat, things I need to stay in one piece. What if it has some self destruct thing and explodes?”

“I can pull you away from that before it even burns you. How do you think your friends lived when your house blew up this morning?”

You could have mentioned Alex’s fate then, but that would have been needlessly cruel. Alex must have already been gone before Peter even entered the building. He did save everyone else you thought.

“Trust me,” Peter looked you in the eyes and you could feel yourself relenting.

You really did believe him it seemed. Hopefully that faith was not misplaced. “Please be careful,” You closed your eyes, going stock still.

“For you? Of course.”

You heard his jacket move, which told you he was raising his arms. Internally you tensed-

And then all you heard were pieces of metal and circuitry skittering across the floor in every direction. You were still standing exactly as you had been as you opened your eyes to a too pleased with himself Peter.

“Some shrapnel did try to go into your face, but I moved the pieces. No kaboom though.” His expression changed then to happily expectant, “So come on, I’ve helped three times now, the stage is now yours,” He made an exagerrated motion to the big metal door now blocking the elevator. “What’s your poison?”

Poison? An interesting way to put it, but you knew what he meant. All mutant abilities were both a gift and a curse. Yet even after all these years of meeting people of your own kind, it was still very personal to show someone your real self for the very first time.

Especially when you evidently cared what he thought of you as you realized your nerves were suddenly about much more than just being able to get open a door or not. How would he react?

You took a breath, still extremely aware of his eyes on you as you turned your palms upward. It was always easiest to start with your hands. But you’d need to bring the energy all the way through you to get the kind of power it was going to take to pull this door out.

There was a slight relief in you as your hands began to glow white after a moment. At least you knew you were no longer defenseless, that these people hadn’t taken your abilities permanently.

In your peripheral vision you could see Peter shift, but you didn’t look to him, trying to concentrate as the energy spread up your arms and you closed your eyes. It always felt so warm, like being in the sun on a clear day. It spread to your chest, legs, up your shoulders and over your face. Even through your hair as you willed the energy to lift you up, now completely enveloped until you were a silhouette of a person. Glowing in soft white light and levitating about a foot off the floor.

You opened your eyes again, feeling you had things in control enough now to speak to him. The tone of your voice changed slightly in this form though. There was a hum to it, the energy moving across your vocal chords like every other part of you.

“I’m going to try and pull the door out of the way and into the hall. Please be ready to move as I won’t have a lot of control over it once it gives. My effort is going to all be on breaking it.”

You looked to him after a moment though when he didn’t respond. You knew he was fast enough to keep himself safe obviously, but you had to be sure he was ready. Was he really just staring at you? “Peter?”

He blinked. “Yeah, uh. That’s...” He stepped back from the door, but never took his eyes off you, this weird expression on his face. “That’s cool.”

“Please mind the door,” You reiterated gently, not quite sure what to make of his reaction to your powers.

“Sure, sure thing.” He sounded more like himself then. “Do your deal.”

Your deal as he put it, involved willing this same energy now in a field around the door as you rose your hand up to control it. Once you were sure you had it solidly, you began pulling your hand back, trying to pull the door out of its railing.

It gradually started to creak, but like you’d thought, this was going to take some real doing. You pulled harder and harder, the metal just groaning louder. “Come on,” You spoke, not really sure if you were talking more to yourself or the door.

Your arm was starting to really ache with the effort. But just when you thought you might have to try something else after all, you finally felt the door give. And when it gave, it did so spectacularly. This massive chunk of metal collapsed, exploding out of its rail as it rocketed down the hallway. You just moved to the side to avoid it, the smaller pieces hitting you harmlessly in this form.

To your eyes it only looked like Peter disappeared and then reappeared as he also easily missed all the debris.

Once that obstacle was out of the way, you glided down, back to the normal elevator doors. They were slightly damaged from the removal of the larger door. But now it only took minimum effort to force them open.

You entered the elevator, the inner keypad was also blinking that same “LOCKOUT” error from earlier. So the elevator itself was going nowhere. But this was now no longer an issue for you.

“I can carry us up,” You looked to Peter, though unsure how comfortable he would be with this new idea.

He was standing at the entrance of the elevator already, watching you still. You could see the wheels in his head turning. And then he finally asked. “So, you’re glowing...and flying. Is this like radioactive glow, or I just need some sunscreen kind of glow?”

“It’s just light energy in the visible spectrum.” You answered reflexively. “But not even UV, the wavelength itself doesn’t cause any damage. It’s only when I make it solid or make it unstable that I can do anything harmful with it.”

You could see he may have skipped the lessons on long and short wave energy and radiation in science class as he just kept staring.

“You’re fine, it’s safe” You smiled. Certainly not the first time you had heard such questions. “The Professor and Hank had me tested from the very beginning, I never would have been allowed so close to other students without more precautions if I was that dangerous.”

“So you’re...close to some other students?” He asked almost tauntingly, one eyebrow raised, and it took you a moment before you realized he may be getting back at you for your comments from before.

It was probably just the fact that you were in your energy form now, but you felt confident enough to respond just as quickly, “It’s more like the Brady Bunch than what you’re thinking. Like having a whole house of little brothers and sisters.”

You had already opened up the ceiling of the elevator while the two of you talked, looking up now to the empty shaft and elevator cables. It’d be much easier to move the two of you rather than to try and lift the whole elevator. You reached a hand out to Peter. “I can lift us up the shaft to the floor that the others are on and open the doors, then you can take us to them. Deal?”

You had trusted him to bring you here, as well as to remove that collar from you. Would he now trust you to bring him up several floors without dropping him?

He was looking at your hand. “I probably could just run up the walls you know.”

You paused, realizing you hadn’t considered that. You didn’t really know what all he was capable of truly. But just as you started to lower your hand, he surprised you by grabbing and holding it.

“Yet how many guys can say they flew with you, huh?”

“Practically none,” You admitted. “I don’t make a habit of picking up my friends.”

“You aren’t quite building confidence here.”

“I’m sure that door weighed more than you.”

“And look how it ended up. Again, not comforting.”

This guy was truly something else. “Come here, we take much longer and they really are going to be sending a search party for us.”

You extended the energy from your hand across his body gently. He was obviously much lighter than the door, and the closer you kept him, the easier it would be to move the both of you.

You tried not to make eye contact with him again as you levitated the two of you through the top of the elevator and up through the shaft. Even though you knew you were fully capable of doing this, you still didn’t want to lose focus.

But his voice didn’t sound frightened at all as he spoke up to let you know how high to go. “They’re on the top floor, we’re stealing a jet to get out of here.”

“Wow, but okay. Got it,” You sped up a little at that, no longer worried about passing your landing point as you went straight to the top.

When you reached the highest doors, you were able to force them open with a turn of your free hand, bringing you and Peter safely through and back onto solid ground.

You powered down immediately as your feet met the floor, the light fading back into your body until you were just standing there in your torn, bloody clothes once more. “Okay, I’m ready to get nauseous again, let’s go.”

He actually squeezed your hand before he let go of it in order to brace your head and ribs again. “For the record that felt pretty good. You’re really warm. Zero g’s was cool too. Thanks.”

“Um...you’re welcome?” You answered, a little flustered all over again to your own dismay, and really not knowing what else to say before he whisked you away in an instant.

It really was going to be the longest day ever.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #x men apocalypse #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #x men fanfiction #x men

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

a night less cold

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~7.8k

beta’ed: @hawnks

happy birthday pro hero hawks! who’s ready for a night of dazzling and drinking?

you aren’t.

warnings: soft hawks, sick fic, hurt/comfort, a wittle angst, horny shit, fucking while sick, a wittle daddy kink

...

a/n: happy birthday kei 🎉!!! happy to celebrate with a classic little slice of hurt/comfort and horniness <3 i’ve never done a true sick fic, so here’s a wittle bit of that as well!!!

thank you for reading and enjoying this year, and being here!! i’m endlessly grateful and just :’^) full this day. enjoy loves 💕

|||||||||||

Keigo’s birthday was, historically, quite the spectacle.

It was tradition that his once-budding, now-thriving agency would host a massive, grand party at a local venue, either an upscale club or dimly-lit, luxury hotel. Keigo would splurge his personal funds on the best music, food, and drinks that money could buy. There were popular DJs, the best and greasiest foods he could bring in, not to mention an open bar on every floor of the festivities.

It was quite a press event as well. Paparazzi and reporters would line up outside of the venue for a few quick words with heroes and socialites as they spanned the red carpet, colored like the vibrancy of his wings.

The event thereafter was debaucherous, obviously, according to Keigo, and quite a media circus as well.

And this year, you were going as his partner and date, also obviously.

The year prior, you and Keigo had still been relatively secretive about your relationship, but as you’d become quietly public in the recent months, Keigo was itching to show you off.

...

December 27th, you awoke in Keigo’s massive, soft bed to his soft humming and low coos, one of his more birdish qualities. The floating sound echoed from his chest to your ear that laid snug against it as he ran his fingers slowly around the shell of your ear.

As you cracked your eyes open, you immediately noted that you felt a bit... off. There was a sticky dryness in your throat that definitely hadn’t been there when you laid down the night before, at least not as strongly.

You opted to ignore it, tugging Keigo closer by the small of his back and kissing his naked collarbones.

“Mornin’” You yawned, blinking sleep from your eyes. “What time is it?”

Keigo’s humming seized as his hand moved to run slowly up and down the back of your neck, “Early. Get some more rest.”

Shaking your head, you propped your head on your folded arms, regarding Keigo with a quiet reverence.

He was too pretty, it stunned you, most of the time. Even with a mop of slept-on blonde waves and the blushed lines and creases of the sheets on his cheeks, he still looked like some gracious god carved him from amber and marble. With the sheets pooling at his waist and a smirk growing on his lips, you couldn’t help smile back.

“You’re staring,” Keigo grinned without a hint of ire. “It’s cute.”

“You’re cute,” Heat pooled in your chest. “Happy early birthday, tailfeathers.”

“Why, thank you,” He lit up, wings puffing behind him as he tugged you closer by the waist. “I’m very excited for you to come tonight, you know. I get to show off my cute little dove to the prying eyes of the world.”

“Showing me off? I’m flattered,” You mused, leaning into his heat. “I’m excited too.”

Keigo took a quick pause before tilting your chin up with a single finger, “Are you sure you’re okay to go tonight?”

“Of course!” You beamed, nuzzling into his neck and ignoring any odd aches in your sleepy muscles. “Why wouldn’t I be? Getting cold feet, birdy?”

He rubbed up your spine, dropping a kiss onto your crown, “You were coughing a bit last night, dove.”

That was news to you. It explained your gummy vocal chords.

“Dry air,” It had to be, right? “Just gave me a dry throat.”

Keigo didn’t look fully convinced in the sheets, feathers ruffled and forehead furrowed.

It was easy to smooth it away with a quick pounce, straddling his hips and kissing him breathless. A bit of an early birthday treat, you supposed, as you nipped and sucked down Keigo’s neck, the little jerks of his hips and swallowed groans only spurred you lower, down to his naked collarbones, grinding down on the hardening bulge in his boxers briefs—

Until your throat began to sting a bit too much for comfort.

You turned your head away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand and clearing your throat.

“Dry air?” Keigo asked with a lopsided grin, hands moving from their wide splay on your inner thighs to around your ribs, coaxing you back into the sheets.

“Feels like it.”

You tried to brush off the feeling, though it lingered as the two of you readied for the day.

A shower was had, steam filling the bathroom as you both sleepily washed each other. It was early enough to indulge in some chaste (and not-so chaste) kisses between washing each other in the spray.

Water poured down from the ceiling-mounted shower head, slicking the two of you with heat. Your head laid against Keigo’s chest as he washed your back, gently swaying your bodies with the tips of his wings against the dewy walls of the shower.

Resting against his chest was a comfort, so early. The day was packed, and you both knew it. A bit of respite before the chaos was much needed and incredibly welcomed.

“Are you sure you need to go to work?” Keigo whined, the pads of his fingers dipping into any tension in your lower back. “I’d love to keep my little chickadee by my side all day.”

You sighed, “You know I would, but I’ve got that report due today and I think my boss will kill me if I don’t get it in on time.”

Keigo huffed, giving your ass cheek a little pinch. It worked to his favor as you yelped, falling against him. You felt him smirk against your wet hair.

“You could always just quit--” Keigo reminded you, a long-standing offer once more put directly on the metaphorical table.

...

It had become quite obvious that Keigo really loved taking care of you. It helped him in unspeakable ways that he had trouble describing to himself, let alone you. As much as he was considered lazy and brash by his colleagues, regarded as too much and too blunt, often to the point of detriment, he was nothing if not goal-oriented.

He just wanted to rest.

Keigo would give the world to just laze around, preferably and hopefully with you, as much as he could while still being a hero. Trouble was, he wasn’t built for loafing about. His years at the Commission truly altered the way his mind and body ran, permanently. It wasn’t something he was ever very explicit about with you, or himself for that matter. All of the brutal training— disgustingly long days with late nights and early mornings, harsh tests or endurance and stamina, and the pushing and pushing of his speed had a great side effect.

He couldn’t rest most of the time.

His body wouldn’t, couldn’t, as with his mind. Whether he was at home lounging or taking a break at his agency, he was always on guard, mentally sprinting for the next moment, and often without cause. It kept him constantly poised, tense, and on edge.

But when you came into his life, that slowly began to change.

It didn’t happen too early in your relationship, the beginning was slow after all. Lots of dancing around each other's feelings, banter and flirting which both of you equally were equally enraptured by the other, but assumed it was all baseless.

It hardly was.

Slowly as you too became closer, sharing space and nights twisted in the sheets together, early morning cups of coffee and little experiences Keigo never imagined he’d have with another person, something started to shift.

When you started to settle in his life, Keigo had something to take care of and god, did it calm him. His need to be constantly moving, doing something, was still there, but when you were settled in his arms, he had something to do— many things to do.

He had the privilege of taking care of you.

You were far more than an outlet for his energy, that would be a complete reduction of your relationship and you, but it was one of the many things Keigo was so grateful to you for.

...

You sighed wistfully, “Maybe someday, love. For now, I gotta get out of here, I don’t want to be late. And neither should you.”

“Aw, babe,” Keigo pouted, grabbing your ass with two hands, massaging at the residual suds in time with your budding whines and gasps. “Not even time for a quickie?”

“Later,” You slapped his hands away playfully. “Have you ever heard of ‘birthday sex’, love? You’ll be getting plenty of it.”

Keigo gave you one of his signature golden grins, cupping your jaw for a few more desperate kisses before you both exited the shower.

He helped you towel off, starting from your ankles to your thighs, lips trailing with promises of the coming day. They stretched up to your ribs, little nips placed on the underside of your breasts before he dried them. You watched his wings ripple and shift with each brush of his lips, obviously getting off on the treatment as much as you were.

Fuck, did you adore him with your whole heart.

As you both dressed for the day, Keigo checked in, ever attentive.

“I’ll pick you up at your place this evening around eight, be dressed and ready for me, okay baby? We’ll go right to the venue.”

You nodded, reminded of the gorgeous (and pricey) outfit he’d treated you too, fitted just right and coordinating perfectly with his own outfit. It was the perfect match, absolutely ideal to show yourselves as the pair you were.

“Perfect, I’ll be ready, done up and waiting,” You glowed with the thought, ignoring the twinge of pain, deep in your muscles.

Nothing a cup of coffee and a few extra stolen kisses wouldn’t fix.

You dressed quickly, rushing off to the subway as Keigo took off from the wide balcony of his apartment to prepare for his own day of preparations for the celebration.

The party would begin that night and wear into his birthday, midnight sounding would mean a round of shots for anyone who could still stand and a jeering of cheers for the beloved number two hero.

Meanwhile, you and your still-dry throat scampered off to work.

...

It proved to not just be a dry throat.

As you sat down at your desk to begin your shift, a little twine of dread had wormed its way into your ribs as an odd exhaustion settled in your bones.

As your shift began, a myriad of symptoms arose.

The air felt cold, too cold for what you were used to at your office. The cardigan your kept handy hardly did anything to keep out the unnatural chill. You took note of it with a few quick glances at your coworkers, all looking perfectly temperate in blouses and dress shirts.

The knowledge did nothing to soothe your chattering teeth.

Next came the headache, a pounding behind your eyes as snot began to ooze from your nose, a little pile of tissues filled your small trash bin. In an act of desperation, you chugged your water bottle, hoping it would quell some of the stabbing pain that was stuffing your skull.

(It didn’t.)

After your vision went double looking at your monitors, you relented and laid your head on the flat of your desk.

The dry throat you’d had worsened next, little coughs turning into hacking, dry wheezes that couldn’t be ignored in the din of your workplace. You covered them the best you could, trying to put on your best face as you slowly and painfully completed your due report.

All the same, someone must’ve spotted you and your poor state as you were sent home shortly after.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

You tried to rationalize on the subway ride home.

Admitting to being sick meant that the entire night would be beyond fucked. It was supposed to be a perfect night to let loose and be open with your love, not one spent curled in bed and aching.

You had time, you resolved, you could fix this.

Despite the fact that, even in your winter coat, you were fucking freezing, you convinced yourself that you weren’t sick.

You couldn’t be.

The ache in your muscles was from sleep deprivation and fatigue, obviously. The winter air was the source of your burning throat and eyes. Getting sick wasn’t an option.

As you journeyed home, you made a vow to simply sleep off your ills.

Nothing a little rest couldn’t fix.

You practically kicked the door to your apartment open, the sound hardly phasing you as your ears had begun to ring on and off on the ride home. You haphazardly dropped your purse to the floor of your small foyer, kicking off your shoes and padding to your kitchen.

You rapidly tried to think of some remedies while still hardly acknowledging any potential illness.

Your first thought was tea, something herbal with lemon and honey tossed in to soothe your throat. The kettle was set and bubbling as you gathered your supplies for a cup that was sure to soothe you in full.

The kettle clicked off, and you poured the steaming water into your cute mug (a gift from Keigo) with shaking hands, ignoring the trembling and hyper-focusing on making sure the stream was in the correct place.

Was pouring water always this hard?

You ignored the thought.

Rather, you wandered off to the bedroom, praying the heat from the mug in your hands, scalding, would warm your shivering body.

(As if you weren’t already burning up.)

You hardly had sense left in you by the time you crawled into the sheets, ruffling them as you attempted to burrow in any heat they could provide. The chill of the unused bedding seeped into you as your teeth chattered. You couldn’t be bothered to even change from your work clothes, the thought of any nakedness sending a new sharp shiver through you.

You just needed a quick nap.

As much as you wanted to sip away at your tea, your mind was going fuzzier by the minute. You sank into the mattress, steaming liquid (and the night’s coming events) forgotten as you fell into a fitful sleep.

...

Your dreams were sordid.

Vivid colors and loud sounds, hardly making any sense, but still, hardly fear into your cooking brain without reason. It blended into some horrid mix of sensations that had you tossing and turning in your sheets.

...

Tap, tap, tap.

...

The sound made your ears burn.

You groaned, shoving your pounding head into the pillow.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

...

It had to be a sound from the inside of your skull, it had to be with how much it thundered, the pounding in your head going harder with each sharp knock.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound was more insistent now, oscillating between your dream and reality.

The pressure in your forehead wasn’t helping.

...

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap—

...

“What the fuck,” You audibly cursed, pushing yourself out of bed and awake as you could be. Holding yourself above the sheets, your swallowed back bile as your stomach rolled with new nausea.

Your gaze drifted to a red glow in the room, your alarm clock—

8:34 PM.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

As fast as you could push your aching muscles to move, you slipped from the bed, whimpering at the chill of the cold floors and air. Shakily, you wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders and padded to the living room.

Your stomach dropped as Keigo waited outside the balcony door.

His party was starting within the hour.

You hadn’t changed, showered, or done any sort of primping. Your outfit that was still hung on the back of your bedroom door, untouched and cold.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you slowly made your way to the door, trying to avoid Keigo’s gaze.

Your shaking hands undid the latch.

You swallowed back as many symptoms as you could, mind racing to figure how quickly you could get ready and if you even could. Makeup could be completed quickly, messily more than likely, but maybe Keigo could touch it up for you once you arrived. Your hair was a nightmare, but maybe you could tame it with a few extra minutes—

As the door opened, you stepped to the side, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. Maybe, Keigo wasn’t upset with you, maybe you could get your shit together in fifteen minutes—

Keigo’s hands went to his hips, wings tight to his back as a frown settled over his pretty plump lips.

“... You’re not ready?” Keigo asked, stating the obvious as you rubbed a hand over your face.

“N-no,” You cursed at your voice strained and crackled. “Give me a few minutes, I fell asleep.”

You prayed your excuse would be enough.

“... For how long, birdie? Are you okay?” Keigo hardly sounded upset, concern lacing his tone more than anything else.

You turned away from him, trudging back towards your bedroom. It was possible to get yourself ready quickly, it had to be you. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin his birthday with your tardiness (and sickness.) The fear spurred your steps to speed—

But Keigo was always faster.

He caught your wrist, tugging and spinning you back towards him. His hands, fingers wrapped in pretty gold rings, landed on your shoulders. His pretty ambers scanned you down, feathers ruffling as his frown deepened.

“How are you feeling?” Keigo asked, open-ended while his index and forefinger pressed to your pulse point, and his gaze flickered to the fat watch on his wrist.

“‘M fine, Kei’,” You murmured, weakly pushing his hand away. “Let me go get ready, I’ll just be a minute or two, promise.”

Keigo hadn’t looked angry since he’d stepped into your apartment, but his expression was souring in a new way. He pulled you close by the waist, lips finding your forehead.

You both stilled.

You knew you were fucked, with his lips so gentle and sweet against his forehead. He knew you were far worse off than you were letting on.

“Dove,” He murmured, voice low and kind. “How do you feel?”

“S-stop,” You pushed at his chest weakly. “I’m okay, I don’t want to fuck up tonight.”

That made Keigo act, the air practically shifting as he scooped you up in his arms, throwing your arms around his neck as he carried you to your bedroom. Setting you onto the sheets, you wrapped your blanket around you tighter, stomach rolling and head burning with its ache and new tears pricking your eyes.

Keigo kneeled, settled between your knees, cupping your cheeks and continuing to look you over.

“Do you have a thermometer? I think you’ve got a fever,” Keigo asked, tapped your chin towards him when you tried to look away from him.

Ignoring his question (you had to), you bit your lip, “I don’t want to ruin your night, Keigo, ‘m sorry.”

Your words slurred as little tears began to drip down your burning cheeks. You rubbed at them with your blanket-covered fists.

Honestly? You felt pretty pathetic. The fever rotting your skull was definitely affecting your judgment, but you didn’t have the sense to care or rationalize.

“Little bird,” Keigo softened, concern coloring his features. “You don’t need to worry about that. Can you tell me where your thermometer is? Maybe some pain medicine too?”

You shook your head, little tears turning fat as you lowered your head.

Keigo audibly winced, something you hardly caught with your sickness was swarming.

“Baby, don’t cry now, it’s alright,” Keigo assured you, pushing your hands away to take the task of wiping your tears away, the chill of the rings on his fingers almost burning. “Don’t worry about the party.”

“But, K-Keigo,” Your voice wobbled as your wrapped your hand around his wrist, over his watch. “You need to go, your party is soon.”

It was.

Your gazes both slide to the alarm clock nearby, the time steadily creeping towards the party’s official start time for the press. There were already scheduled interviews, you and Keigo were to be photographed and ogled at, him shining and dazzling in his signature, blunt way.

You were supposed to be on his arm—

Except, you were feverishly between his palms, crying steadily at the thought of missing the evening.

“Dovie, I need you to listen, please,” Keigo urged you, rubbing heat into your cheeks (even though they were already scalding). “You don’t need to worry about the party. That doesn’t matter. What does is that you’re obviously not feeling well—“

“I’m f-fine!”

It was meant to be a strong declaration, something that would convince Keigo that your feverish state didn’t impede your ability to attend, or at least impede his.

“You’re burning up,” Keigo reminded you.

Your tummy tossed and you shook your head.

He just kept talking, “I’m staying until I know you’re alright—”

That got you even more upset, shaking your head hard and fast even as your skull throbbed.

“No, n-no, no,” You pleaded. It was one thing for you to be unable to attend the highly-anticipated evening, it was entirely another for Keigo to be late to his own party, let alone fucking miss the event— “N-no, absolutely fucking not, ‘Kei. You can’t—”

You wept into his hands as hot tears trailed from the corners of your eyes to drip down your jaw.

...

Keigo’s heart hurt.

His hands shook, more-than-likely imperceptible to you as you sobbed in his hands, soon in his arms, as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull your burning body into his lap.

He tucked your face into the crook of his neck, playing with the hair at the back of your neck, unable to ignore how hot and clammy your skin remained, despite how you shivered and how your teeth clattered together.

You were sick and worked up, that much was for certain.

His wings flexed, the muscles bound-up and more tense than he would’ve liked. Worry laced his expression, his actions, as he tucked your sweaty and tear-matted hair behind your ear.

“It’s okay for you to miss tonight, there’ll be more times to do things like this together,” Keigo quietly assured you.

“But it’s your birthday—”

“That doesn’t matter to me more than you,” Keigo’s breath hitched with his own honest, full-chested admission. “It’s just a night, chickadee. I’m far more concerned with you.”

That unignorable itch and urge his chest flared, hot and bright as your fever and burning cheeks. He squeezed around your body, wishing he could absorb a bit of your hurt as his lips brushed over your temples.

“N-no,” You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “You c-cannot get sick. No.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow at your teary expression.

“I can do whatever I’d like,” He tilted his head sympathetically. “Which is why I’m staying—”

Your expression brightened in the same breath as you narrowed your gaze. Something about the heat swimming in your skull made things tilt and shift perspective.

Why is he being so insistent?

“Are...” You swallowed around your words, hands folding in your lap. “Are you trying to get out of going to your own event?”

...

That might’ve been too much.

Even your feverish mind could tell you were being stubborn to a fault. The thought of Keigo taking care of you while you were obviously not doing well warmed you in an actually good way.

And it seemed you were expressing that same brand of honesty that Keigo was so known for exercising.

You weren’t even sure how you deduced such a claim, but still, you’d ask, perhaps fanning the flame—

“... Looks like you caught me, little bird,” Keigo chuckled, something sad and low, chin tucking over the top of your head.

You remained silent for a moment, head ringing.

“... You don’t want to go tonight?” You asked, softer this time. The rings on his fingers clicked as he drew absent-minded shapes over your clothed thighs.

“It’s complicated,” Keigo admitted. “I’d much rather spend the night with you, here.”

You were both silent for a while.

The last of your tears ebbed away as the thoughts of the evening of dancing and drinking faded. The outfit in its garment bag was forgotten as your hands buried into Keigo’s hair.

His hands played with the hem of your shirt, a reminder that you’d never changed after work, too sick to even crawl from your business casual dressings.

You broke the silence, voice crackling with a suppressed cough.

“The thermometers under the sink in the bathroom.”

...

Keigo returned after nestling you in your sheets.

He had helped you from your work clothes, gently helping pull off and away your sweat-dampened blouse and bottoms. Gentle hands and nimble fingers slipped you into some sleep clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeve Keigo had left at yours some time ago. The slots that had been cut for his wings felt far too breezy, but the comfort of the garment being his far outweighed it.

You wrapped yourself in it as you burrowed into the sheets.

Keigo sat on the edge of the bed, tapping the tip of the thermometer against your lips, “Open, angel.”

Your lips barely cracked open, just enough for the device to be slotted on the top of your tongue. A few of Keigo’s feathers trailed him, bringing a lukewarm rag that he sat on your forehead.

You shivered and let out a whine, giving him a frown as the thermometer beeped.

101.8 °F.

“That doesn’t sound good,” You muttered, burying yourself deeper. “‘M sorry again.”

“No need to apologize,” Keigo assured you once more. Despite the practiced steadiness of his tone, his wings were half-unfurled, poised and tensed. Nervousness radiated from him in a way that he prayed you were too out of it to pick up. “I just want to make sure you’re alright, dove, promise.”

You gave him a shallow nod as Keigo portioned out a dose of cold medicine into the provided cup, scrutinizing the line on the cheap plastic.

“Why did you plan such a big night if you’re trying to get out of it?” You asked, fisting the duvet. “You don’t need to, do you?”

“I don’t,” Keigo sighed, awed by how quickly he admits his inner workings to you (yet again.) “It is a fun night, a lot of fun. It’s just...”

He trailed off as he set down the sickly green bottle with a sigh.

Why did he plan such a night if part of him was goddamn ecstatic about the opportunity to bail on it?

“A lot. It’s just a lot.”

“... You don’t even like drinking much, do you?” You asked, rising up from under your many blankets despite your shivering.

Once, Keigo did. His birthday was a time to get drunk on a bottle of too-expensive liquor on the floor of his too-expensive, too-empty penthouse while trying not to simmer in the loneliness that had become his norm.

“I used to,” Keigo said, a bit too wistful. “The party was just an excuse to not do it alone.”

It was far more fun to get shitfaced with a crowd of folks who saw him as beloved, even if they didn’t really see him. It was more entertaining to dance the night away, fill his room with pretty, tight cunts, one after the other than lay on the cold hardwood of his own floor, ignoring the clawing despondence that he couldn’t avoid as he got another year older—

Either way, alone or not, fucked up or fucked or not, he always felt rotten the next day.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” Your words were soft, maybe just for yourself, but Keigo caught them all the same. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Keigo placed the little cup to your dry lips. “That’s why I don’t want to go.”

...

You swallowed down the medicine, grimacing at the taste and gagging. Your rolling stomach didn’t appreciate the flavor, bile rising in the back of your throat.

“Easy now,” Keigo ran a hand through your hair as another cup was placed to your lips. “Sip.”

You wrapped your hands over Keigo’s as you all-but chugged the water, even if your stuffy nose made it taste dusty and odd.

“Good girl,” Keigo beamed, pressing a kiss to your shoulders, urging you back into the sheets. “Can you scoot for me?”

You nodded, purring with the praise, and shifted only enough for Keigo to join you in the covers, perfectly windswept, styled hair mussed up against the pillows, outfit rumpled without a care otherwise.

You both wrapped up the other in an instant.

Keigo was warm, as were you, even if you couldn’t feel it. Your body ached with each movement, your limbs growing heavy with the syrupy medicine.

“You should go,” You told him softly, speaking quickly before Keigo could disagree. “Just for a little bit. Fashionably late, and all. See some folks.”

“... I don’t want to leave you like this,” He squeezed you, burying his face in your hair.

“I’m just sick, Keigo,” You frowned, little fingers pulling at his jaw so you could meet his gaze. “I’m not dying.”

Sure, you felt like absolute shit at that moment, but the tug of slumber was beginning to outweigh your symptoms.

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t miss the tremble in Keigo’s tone.

“Of course,” You rubbed your fingers over his stubbly chin and soft cheeks. “I’ll be right here, always.”

And both of you shared a quiet moment of understanding.

...

Keigo stayed until you fell asleep, though it didn’t take long at all. Your head laid on his chest, hot puffs of breath pulling from your parted lips as Keigo took to running his hands wherever he could reach.

Your body was hot, hot enough to worry him, but he placated his protective urges (as much as he could) with the sound logic that you, indeed, did just have a fever, albeit a bad one.

Keigo left you with an array of feathers, settled around and up against your body, Your cheek was tucked into one of the broader ones, filaments remaining silken and soft. It would be a bit overwhelming, the sensation of you and your body with the crowds, paparazzi and sounds, but he’d manage.

He arrived fashionably late with a golden smile, and left unexpectedly early before the hour even struck midnight.

The turning of his birthday would be shared elsewhere.

...

You were right there, just as you promised when he returned.

The rustling of fabric and feathers is what roused you, half-way and through your medicine-induced haze.

There was the quiet sound of your dresser opening and shutting as your eyes recognized.

Your vision was blurred, but you still outstretched your palm to Keigo. He was still changing, pretty outfit gone, rings and watch discarded onto the top of your dresser. He stood nearly naked, just in boxer briefs and his entirely unbuttoned dress shirt.

“Pretty bird,” Your voice slurred as Keigo graced you with a lazy smile. “Get over here.”

“On my way, chickadee,” The smile in Keigo’s voice glowed, even in the dark of your room. “Thank you.”

“Love you,” You responded, hand falling onto the duvet, not nearly as uncomfortably cold as before. “So much.”

Keigo’s breath hitched with the common affection.

Sleepily, you wondered, “Has anyone told you that on your birthday?”

You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud.

Keigo was by your side a moment later, feathers returning to his full wings, body warm and comfortable and purely home. You snuggled into him, pulling him close with a hand around his waist, pushing weakly at the tension bound up in the fat he carried above his waist.

His wings rustled, settling half-extended over your mattress and undoubtedly drooping to the floor. Your legs tucked around his, his hands settling over your spine to count each of the vertebrae like it was the beats of a song only you too sang.

Keigo tried his best to ignore his own stray tears. It was easier to cry around you, either because he was so damn comfortable around you, or that you were a bit of a crybaby yourself.

Either way, Keigo was grateful for it.

You, in your feverish state, only felt Keigo in all of his rawness. The swell and crest of his breath, the tempo of his heart, the gentle hands and precious pressure he doled out against the tension you bore in your body, all were familiar but blessed no matter how many times you were graced by him.

Keigo wasn’t an angel, he was better than one, wings aside.

You cracked your sleep eyes open, palms around his jaw, cupping and caressing as was your rite.

Your gaze drifted just beyond Keigo to the glow of your alarm clock.

12:03 AM.

“Happy birthday, love.”

Keigo didn’t reply, only giving an audible swallow and a shaky swallow. You can feel his tears soak your fingertips.

You kissed them away, licking at the salt with the tip of your tongue, relishing Keigo’s little giggles, all for you and him to share, just the two of you.

“I adore you, you know,” you admitted, though he already knew so well. “I love you, Keigo. Thank you.”

Maybe a few of your own tears fell as you pressed your cheek to his, kissing up and down his jaw, nosing at the beat of his heart under his jaw.

Keigo layered love onto you, little repetitions, desperately returned, and shared affection. ‘I love you’s and sentiments too soft and important slipped between the two of you as sleep pulled you both under.

...

The morning came with the graces of a gentle, orange sun.

It stretched over the sheets, slipping in, uninvited but not unwanted, from around the thin curtains you had hung.

Once more, you awoke to Keigo’s little coos and hums, though he was far less awake.

Before even opening your eyes, your lips found his own. Both yours and his were parched from sleep, sticky breath hardly pleasant, but neither of you minded.

You swallowed a surprised chirp from him, rolling your hips into his own.

Keigo stilled you with a gentle hand on the back of your thighs, gripping the fat and flesh with enough force to have you purring.

“Mornin’, chickadee,” Keigo broke the kiss only to murmur against your lips.

“Hi,” You pulled away to smooth your thumbs over his cheeks, still sticky from the night before. “I love you.”

And Keigo lit, matching with the rays that filled your room, “I love you too.”

You beamed back, not bright in that same way, but luminous all the same.

Keigo took you in breathlessly, the simpleness of you leaching all air from his lungs and unwanted thoughts from his mind.

If Keigo was like the sun, all gold in the morning and red in dusk, then you were every other star that wreathed the moon. You didn’t see it, not the same way he did, but then again, only Keigo had the privilege of seeing the way how you exchanged pieces of yourselves with each other without fear.

The tenderness of that morning was far, far better than anything he’d had in years past. He missed nothing about the pounding of his skull from the liquor the night prior, the insistent need to piss out his sins and the clingings of at least a dozen perfumes from the night before.

Even that hot and fast burning ecstasy couldn’t compare to sharing the morning sun with you.

“How do you feel?” You asked, breaking Keigo from his quiet worship.

Keigo snorted, pressing his lips to your forehead, gauging the temperature, “I should be asking you that.”

“Sweaty,” You tugged on the long sleeve and bumped one of your now-naked thighs into his own. “I think my fever broke in my sleep.”

Thank God.

Keigo reached around you, rustling around for the thermometer, and placing it under your tongue.

99.3 °F.

“Looks like it,” Keigo let out a sigh of relief. “Do you feel better?”

“Mostly,” You nosed your way back under his chin for all the extra affections you could give. “Just tired.”

“We’ll have an easy day then,” Keigo replied, feathers rippling at the idea of a slow, free day in bed with you.

“But it’s your birthday— “

Keigo cut you off with a finger to your lips and a sly smile, “And I would like nothing more than to spend it, like this, with you.”

You inspected his face for any signs of dishonesty.

There wasn’t even one.

“Okay, then let me rephrase,” You huffed a little. “But what about birthday sex? I really was prepared to have you cum down my throat at least four times today.”

Keigo snorted again, flitting laughter bursting from his lips as he pulled you to his chest and smothered you with kisses.

“There’s absolutely nothing stopping us from fucking until the sun goes down, other than how you feel and what you’re up for,” Keigo reminded you, his hand drifting up to your ass and squeezing. The way you jolted into him with a little whine had Keigo already wanting. “I can make it nice and easy for you, little bird.”

You shuddered, hands drifting to the roots of his wings and teasing the small, silken feathers, “Why don’t you show me?”

Keigo needed no other command.

...

You knew Keigo could be so greedy with his touches. Some nights he’d take and take and take. He’d pull from you anything and everything you’d offer, leaving you gasping and stuffed-full with a happily broken mind. He loved stealing your breath with the pounding of his hips, stealing the sounds from your lips as they came, though you gave them freely.

That day didn’t feel like that.

“I want to be so deep in you, dovey,” Keigo purred, cooing from the back of his throat. His hand slipped between your clammy thighs. “Feel you all over.”

The pad of his index fingers ran over your clothed clit, teasing and wanting in the same moment.

“Y-you can have me any way you want,” Your voice had already gone gooey and high, pitching up and sweetened. “Wanna make you feel good.”

You rubbed at the apex of his wings, where the little feathers bled from the roots of his wings to the base bones. A low groan rumbled from his chest, one of your favorite sounds. Nothing got Keigo weaker than little pets and play to his wings. They were so sensitive from years of touch solely by his own hand. They were coveted, a part of the holy structure of his body that he hardly allowed anyone else to fully take in unless necessary, before you anyways.

That was your privilege.

Keigo slipped your panties off, the cotton fabric discarded and forgotten. A moment later, your shirt followed, leaving you bear to him.

There was still the impulse to cover yourself. Keigo loved looking at you, his pupils wide as they traced over your curves night after night like it was the first time he’d seen your skin and curves.

That morning, the feeling fell away quickly as you urged his own scraps of clothing off.

He was already hard, leaking from the thought and sight of you. You were hardly different, Keigo’s fingers teasing the lips of your sex and pulling away wet.

Without shame, he popped the finger into his mouth, sucking away your slick like it was nectar.

You tipped onto your back, pulling Keigo with you. One hand remained buried and busy with his wing while the other slipped between your bodies, wrapping around his pretty cock and stroking slow.

He gasped into your mouth as you thumbed over the head.

Smiling against his lips, you nipped and sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, enjoying your little moment of control.

Keigo stole it back quickly.

Carefully, he grabbed the back of your thighs, pushed your legs up and out. Before you had a chance to so much as whimper, Keigo slid a finger into your cunt, then two, curling against the bundle of nerves.

Your back arched, your grip on him tightened as you gasped his name like the last note of a hymn.

And Keigo wanted more.

“Tell me if it hurts,” Keigo panted, breathless and strained as he adjusted your legs over his shoulders, bearing his weight on his arms that went to brace around your head.

“C-can I have a pillow?”

“For your hips?”

“Uh-huh.”

Keigo gave you a flurry of kisses, a wordless ‘of course, I want to make you feel so good’. There was an art to wordless communication and Keigo was a goddamn masterful craftsman.

The pillow slipped was your lower back, tilting your hips up and cushioning them from whatever treatment Keigo laid upon them.

With a shaking hand, he removed yours, guiding it to his wings as he lined up his cock with your cunt and fucked into you in a single fluid motion.

The burn of it was enough to have you gasping, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders and tuck your face into his neck with a whine. Keigo soothed you without question, barely rolling his hips are you adjusted.

He settled over you close, chest brushing yours, the cold of the bars through his nipples always a shock, even when you expected it.

“M-more,” You whined, needy and sweltering with a tug of his wings. “Please.”

Keigo hummed, palming one of your breasts with a twist of your nipple, “But, you beg so pretty, little bird. What if I want to hear more? It is my birthday.”

It was, and Keigo wanted to be so close it hurt. He hardly had the patience for teasing, but when your voice got so syrupy and desperate, he couldn’t help but tug at your soon-to-be-fucked mind.

Truthfully, what Keigo wanted most for his birthday fucking was to stuff you so good and full that your tummy bulged under the flat of his palm. He wanted his cock to brush and bruise the deepest parts of you until all you knew was the chant of his name as you came so well and hard that you fucking blacked out.

But, he had to be tender.

Had to be.

“P-please!” You tilted your hips for more of him as if Keigo wasn’t already filling you up fully and perfectly. “Anything you w-want, please.”

“You mean it, little bird?”

“Uh-huh.”

And sweetly, perfectly, Keigo fucked you into the mattress.

There was some reverie in it, there had to be with the way you so gently carded through the hyper-sensitive, rounded feathers that stretched onto his back. It juxtaposed the way he railed and ruined your cunt, slick sticking your inner thighs and his pelvis with each thrust.

Each motion went so deep, you swore you could feel it in your gut. Maybe, that was why Keigo was fucking you so close, with your bodies pressed together and sharing air and heat so closely, it was hard to tell where another experience ended and another began.

You didn’t expect the first time you came, your eyes stretching wide as your crest drowned you well and sweetly. You buried your face into Keigo’s now marked and bitten neck and let out a choked sob as your cunt fluttered around him.

Keigo took a moment to slow, as he only peaked with you, but he wasn’t ready to be done with you yet. His hips barely moved in you, just nudging deeper, and deeper—

“More,” Greedy, such a greedy little whore. “M-more, please.”

Keigo chuckled, pushing some of his sweaty waves back, “Think you can handle it, little bird?”

Your face, hot with pleasure and eyes wide with want, went determined as you tugged on the wings, nails raking through the unpreened feathers.

“Fuck me like you mean it, K-Keigo— Daddy.”

Keigo stilled, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the flaring of hot, yellow fire in his chest, “You really want to push that button so early?”

“Were you planning to fuck me like a pussy the rest of the morning?”

Where did your fire come from? You were sure, maybe it was the leavings of your fever, but you didn’t care. You wore your smitten grin as Keigo’s gaze darkened, pupils so fat and focused, the citrine of his eyes was swallowed whole.

Keigo slapped a hand over your mouth, squeezing around your jaw, and fucking into you once, sharper and deeper than he had before. Your vision nearly went white, body fucked over-sensitive once but still begging for more.

Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Gluttons, the both of you.

As per your request and Keigo’s deepest wants, Keigo fucked you so earnestly, deeply, and without holding back that part of you feared the bed would break.

Each cant of his hips had your tugging at his feathers, the twitch of his cock inside more than enough of a sign at how fucking wild your touch was making him. That wasn’t to mention the filth that rolled from his lips, pants and whines and groans and words—

“Daddy’s little bird just gives so well, d-don’t you?” Keigo’s probably bruising your cervix, but you didn’t have the mind to care. “Letting me t-take whatever I want?”

You nodded behind his palm, half shrieking as his hand slipped between your bodies, rubbing your swollen clit, hot pressure building up in your gut by his hand, just as you liked.

As much as he took, he gave.

It only took a few more moments for you to sob behind his palm, clutching as your shoulders as you came so hot and bright and well, your vision sparkled and went black.

With the way your cunt clamped down around Keigo’s cock, he came just behind, filling you so, so good. His hand flew to your tummy, eyes rolling back in his head as he felt himself fill you with fat cock and thick cum.

You gasped as you came down, panting and clutching at Keigo as he did the same. You hushed each other with des[erate kisses, quiet praises too precious and sacred to be written, but that could certainly be felt in the air that remained conjunct between the pair of you.

Keigo rose from your body, thighs shaking in time with your own as he lowered your legs on to the sheets.

You were both messes, covered in sweat and spit and sweetness, but neither of you cared.

“You okay, little bird?” He asked, soft in the aftermath, kissing the damp apples of your cheeks.

“Uh-huh,” You gave him the best type of fucked out smile. “Can’t wait for more, it is your birthday.”

“And...” Keigo found himself speaking without thinking. “You’re here for it? All of it?”

He knew that, did he really need the reassurance—?

“Every bit of it, lovebird,” You tacked on the nickname, rising on your undoubtedly sore hips. “Every moment.”

And he couldn’t be happier about it.

||||||||||||||||||

thank you for reading!!!! 💕

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks imagines #hawks x you #mha x reader #my hero academia #happy birthday birdie <33 #heart full #its been a weird couple of days BUT!!#here #some good soft smut and just #goodness #and hurt too bc :)#anyways enjoy lovies!!!

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

Killing Floor

Pairing: dark!Mr. Freezy x dark!fem!Reader

Words: 4389

Summary: You run into Robert Pronge one night and end up tangled in a scheme together.

Warnings: DARK so, so dark, please do not read if these type of fics upset you! non-con (erring on the safe side), dub-con (for sure), very graphic violence (m to f and f to m), death, gore, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, hate-fucking, cavalier use of a handgun), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My first dark fic! It got away from me for sure but I enjoyed it. Please, please be mindful of the content you are consuming though, this could very easily be upsetting! Because of this, I’m only gonna tag my fellow Freezy hoes here, as I haven’t updated my taglist doc to include dark!Fics.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

You eyed the Mr. Freezy truck warily as you carried your garbage to the dumpster behind your apartment building. This was the third time this week you had seen it outside your place, and it was setting you on edge. There were hardly any kids in your neighborhood, so you didn’t know why it was hanging out here.

You cursed under your breath as the truck moved to the mouth of the alley, blocking your exit. You pressed your back to the wall behind the dumpster, right as a man exited into the alleyway from the bar underneath your place to smoke a cigarette.

A massive man in a white uniform stepped out of the back of the ice cream truck and walked towards the smoker, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves as he made his approach. He asked him for a cigarette before pulling a silenced pistol out of his jacket and shooting his target three times in the chest.

You schooled your breathing as you watched him drag the body to the back of his truck, trying to remain as still as possible. He stormed back into the alley to search for the shell casings, turning his back to you as he collected them.

Your legs were starting to cramp from your crouched position, and as hard as you were trying to stay still, it was getting difficult. You tried shifting your foot, but your ankle rolled in your heels and you let out a hiss. The killer straightened up suddenly at the sound, cocking his head as he turned toward you with a sneer on his face.

“Is that a little kitty I hear?” He jeered as he walked toward you, his voice thick with a Boston accent.

You stood up from your hiding place, preparing to make a run for it. He saw you tense up and lunged at you, wrapping a massive hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs and cracking your skull against the bricks.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I can’t let you go just yet.” He pressed his body against yours to pin you, his other hand brushing his stringy hair from in front of his glasses. “You have got horrible timing. To think I almost got out of here without getting a look at you, kitten.”

You just glared him as he moved his hand down from your throat to dip inside your blouse, grinning as he pawed at you as he buried his face in your shoulder, grinding his crotch into you.

“Think I’m gonna have a little fun with you before I let you go. You’re being so good and quiet.” He panted against your neck. Suddenly he stilled and drew his face up to look you in the eyes. “Why haven’t you called for help?”

He had relaxed just enough to allow you to move and you drove your knee between his legs at the same time you shoved your hand into his jacket and drew out his pistol, whipping it across his face and sending him sprawling.

“You cunt!” He spat, bloody spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he moved to charge you again, stopping short when you pressed his gun to his temple. “Oh, you stupid little bitch.”

“I’m the stupid bitch?” You growled at him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck a Gambino hitman is doing so far outside of their territory?”

“Shit.” He hissed between his teeth as he eyed you warily. “You’re with the Genoveses?”

“That’s right.” You said, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Now answer my question.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in supplication, showing you his palms. “Fella in my truck has a father who owes Marks a good chunk of change, and y’know, he needed a little incentive to pay off his debt.”

“Marks gave you the ok to take out this hit? The mans getting bold.” You snorted, releasing the hammer as you pulled the gun back. “Lucky for you, I feel like leaving this to the bosses to figure out. Get the fuck out of here.” He stood up warily and reached for his gun, which you pulled back with a tut. “No, I’m gonna hold onto this for now. Maybe I’ll give it back later.”

Mr. Freezy growled as he brushed off his uniform and stalked back to his truck, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You just winked at him as he drove away, heading back up to your apartment to call this in.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You saw him again 2 weeks later at a sit-down. Marks came to make amends to your boss for overstepping, hoping to find someway show his remorse for sending his man into the Family’s territory without permission. You were perched on a stool in the back of the room when the two men entered, and a small smirk teased your lips.

Lombardo liked bringing you to meetings as a distraction. Most of his comrades assumed you were there for eye candy, just the latest piece of tail the boss was wetting his dick in, too stupid to care about. But the real reason he kept you around was for protection. He loved the look of surprise that came over his enemies’ faces when you pulled out your garrot.

“Great to see you Leo!” Lombardo said warmly, moving to give the man a kiss on each cheek before sinking into his chair, gesturing for Marks to join him. “Y/N, grab us some wine sweetheart. Does your man want any?”

“No, I don’t like my men drinking while they work.”

You moved to open the wine when a massive palm wrapped around your upper arm.

“This is the bitch I told you about, boss.” The killer seethed as he wrenched you around viciously.

“The fuck are you doing, Pronge?” Marks hissed, giving you a chance to grab the corkscrew and press it to Robert’s throat. “Benny, I apologize for my man’s behavior, he’s been foaming at the mouth about some broad getting the best of him and it’s made him a little erratic.”

Lombardo just laughed as Pronge released you with a duck of his head. You kept the corkscrew where it was, watching a thin trickle of blood run down his neck.

“Let him go, Y/N.” He said with a wave of his hand, and you moved to open the wine, pouring two glasses and bringing them over to the seated men. “My girl has a tendency to elicit that type of reaction. It’s one of the reasons I keep her around!” He gave you a pat on the ass as you headed back to your stool, your eyes trained on Robert Pronge.

He was glowering at you maliciously as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his forearms flexing as he clenched his fists. You heard him growl from deep in his chest when you gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“You see my problem Leo, we can’t have Gambinos moving through our territory with impunity, as much as we can sympathize with the need to collect a debt. Fortunately for you, the boss is still soft on you fellas, so we’ve come up with a solution I think will work for everyone.”

“Ah, Benny, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me! Of course, whatever you need.”

“Excellent! We’ve got a little problem with one of Big Mike’s nephews. The kids an idiot and has been making some waves that are making it increasingly difficult to manage our operations, I’m sure you know the type.”

“There’s one in every family.” Marks said with a shake of his head.

“That there is. Anyways, Funzi wants us to deal with the kid under the radar. I’d normally send in Y/N on her own to take care of it, but as great as she is, the kid is surrounded by morons all the time. We also have a disposal problem. Funzi wants to make it seem like the kid ran off with some bitch, hopefully avoid a war, and we’ve heard that your man Pronge here is a disposal expert.”

“Oh, fuck no!” Pronge exclaimed. “I’m not working with this cunt!”

“You’ll do what I order you to do, or I’ll fucking end you, now shut the fuck up!” Marks roared at Robert, making him wince as he leaned back against the wall. “He’ll do it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Benny murmured, his nostrils flaring in anger as he gave you the signal to relax. “Let’s drink to our friendship while we let these two hash out the details.”

You stood up from your stool with a deep sigh as you moved towards your new partner. The man looked like he wanted to murder you, and you just gave him a wicked grin. He seemed to relax as you went over the plan with him, not really offering any notes, just grunting in acknowledgement as his eyes roamed over your body. You managed to come to a grudging agreement and made plans to meet in two days to carry everything out.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You had been waiting outside the club for 10 minutes when Pronge finally parked his sedan across the street. He leered as he walked towards you, eyes drinking you in. You looked extremely different than the last time he saw you, relaxed in a flowing dress that stopped mid-thigh and plunged almost all the way down to your navel.

“You always dress like a whore on the job?” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the entrance.

“Sure. You always dress like a clown?” You asked, wincing at the painful pattern on his shirt.

“Fucking bitch.” He muttered under his breath, not quite low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“That’s right.” You said, your eyes roaming around the club as you looked for your man. “There he is.”

There was a group of young men in a booth at the back. The leader bent to snort a line of coke off the table before screaming for more drinks.

“What a fucking moron.” Pronge said from directly behind you. You could feel the suffocating heat of his body against your back as you stretched your neck. You sensed his eyes boring into you, searing over your bare flesh.

“Wait for my signal.” You muttered as you moved towards the dance floor, winding your way through the crowd smoothly until you positioned yourself in front of the mark’s table.

Pronge moved around the edge of the dancefloor as he kept an eye on you, you even danced like a slut. Your eyes were fixed on the mark as you gyrated to the music. It didn’t take long for the idiot to notice you. Your hands wandered all over your body as you swayed drunkenly, tracing the curves of your breasts and running over your neck languidly before dropping to your hips and teasing the hem of your skirt higher on your thighs.

He felt his dick starting to get hard as he watched you move, fighting the urge to pull you into an alley and fuck you until you couldn’t talk. His bitch wife had been refusing to put out for months, but ever since he first saw you in that alley, you’re all he could think about. He just wanted to shove his cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up for good. He had dreams about wrapping his hands around your throat as he ruined your pussy, marking your tits with his teeth as he split you open.

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He did his best to school his thoughts as he watched the mark move to join you. He felt himself tense as he watched the moron slot himself behind you and grind against your ass. His hands roamed over your torso until he was cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly as you dropped your head back against his shoulder with a moan, arching into his grasp.

Robert lost his patience and stormed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he strode inside. His did his best to control his breathing as he checked the stalls for occupants. He heard your laugh coming from the corridor and he scrambled to conceal himself, perching on top of a toilet and closing the stall door as you entered the bathroom.

You were giggling breathlessly as the idiot mouthed at your neck. He ripped the sleeves of your dress down your arms until your tits were exposed, and you sighed as your nipples pebbled in the air. Your mark bent to run his mouth over your chest sloppily as he fumbled with his belt.

Pronge lowered himself to the floor gingerly, splaying his palm on the stall door and pushing it open slowly. Your eyes shot open and did your best to swallow a hiss. Something must have tipped off the mark, because he straightened suddenly and turned around.

You growled at Robert and wrapped your arms around the mark’s neck before he had a chance to raise the alarm, squeezing hard enough that his oxygen was cut off. Your eyes bored into his as you choked the man, bringing him to his knees as you crouched behind him, your body curled tightly around his. Pronge’s cock was pressing painfully against the front of his pants as he watched you work. Your dress gathered around your waist and your makeup smeared all over your face as the muscles in your arms strained with the effort of strangling the man.

He finally stopped fighting you, and you moved to grip his head at crown and chin before wrenching your arms in two different directions, snapping his neck. You dropped the body to the floor and stood slowly to glare at Pronge, your nostrils flaring.

“You’re supposed to be in the alley.” You seethed as you pulled your dress back over your shoulders, moving to check the hall for any alarm.

“You moved faster than I was expecting.” He hissed, climbing one of the toilets to open the small window to the alley. He gripped a pipe running over the ceiling and lifted himself up enough to shove his legs through. He moved his hands to brace against the sill as he slid through the narrow opening, his broad shoulders just barely able to fit through the frame. He dropped into the alley and looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses.

It was only a few seconds before you were shoving the body through the window for Pronge to catch. He couldn’t deny he was impressed. You were stronger than you looked to be able to lift all that dead weight through a window 8 feet off the ground. He caught it easily and hauled it to the Mr. Freezy truck, shoving it in the back before moving back to the window.

He came back to find you with your legs dangling from the window as you slid through. You dropped softly on the balls of your feet, being careful not to roll your ankles as you landed in your stilettos.

Robert was leering as you strutted past him, your hips swaying suggestively as you made your way to the truck, wrenching open the doors and stepping inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out slowly as you worked to wrap the body in plastic sheeting.

The two of you reached the warehouse in a little under an hour. Robert backed the truck into the loading bay and threw it in park before moving around to open the dock doors. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the body over his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Just head straight through.” He instructed you. You gave him a nod over your shoulder as you headed in. He grinned wickedly to himself as he watched your ass swinging back and forth in those heels, moving to follow you.

You found the old slaughterhouse easily and lowered a hook over the drain in the floor as he came to stand behind you, close enough that he had you on edge.

Once the hook was low enough, you moved forward in tandem. You ripped the plastic sheeting off the body as Pronge moved to wrap the hook and chain around the ankles. Once everything was secure, you stepped back to raise the chain.

Robert was still watching like a hawk. You did your best to ignore his eyes on you as you stood with one hip cocked, one heel tapping impatiently on the slanted floor.

Once it was at the required height, you stepped forward to drain the body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling a hunting knife out of your bag.

He growled from deep in his chest as he watched you work, leaned against the railing surrounding the killing floor, his cock starting to harden again as you stepped back, wiping your blade on a handkerchief.

“Almost forgot, Pronge.” You said, digging your hand in your purse and pulling out a pistol. You grinned at the panic on his face before flipping the gun in your hand so the grip was pointed at him. “This is yours.”

He took it from you warily and shoved it into the waist of his slacks, eyes still boring into you as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“We’ve got some time to kill sweetheart.” He murmured as you moved to walk past him, heading back towards the loading bay.

Just like that he was on you, one giant hand wrapping around your throat as he slammed you against the wall, your head cracking against the concrete and your teeth snapping together painfully. You brought your knife up whip fast and pressed it to his throat at the same time he drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it to your abdomen.

“You’re just turning me on even more, kitten.” He leered at you, slipping the gun down the curve of your hip and drawing the hem of your skirt up your thigh with the barrel. He brushed the edge of his hand against your panties, groaning at how soaked you were.

He brought his other hand down and shredded the thin fabric easily, tucking the ruins in his back pocket before digging his fingers into your hip, gripping you hard enough to draw bruises. He sneered at you as he slipped the gun between your legs, running the barrel between your folds and teasing it against your clit, making you arch into him with a hiss.

“God, what a fucking slut you are.” He chuckled as he slipped the cool metal over your sex, your arousal soaking the steel as you writhed against it. “Acting so stuck up, and here this cunt is begging for me. Maybe I should fuck you with my gun, would you like that?”

He pressed the tip of the barrel against your entrance and you spat in his face, pressing the knife further into his neck and giving a mock sound of sympathy as a drop of blood welled at the tip.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, fucker.” You ordered him, grinding yourself into the steel as another round of arousal seeped from your pussy as it clenched around nothing.

“Oho, you bitch. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He growled menacingly at you as you slipped your hand under the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time at an agonizing pace as you kept your blade trained on his jugular.

“Promises, promises.” You tutted, the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you dug your nails into Robert’s chest, drawing a moan from deep in his throat.

He pressed the gun against your clit violently and grinned as you fell apart. Your legs trembled as you release gushed over the now-warm steel. You bit your lip as you gave a low moan, your cunt fluttering as came down from your high.

“That’s right, whore.” He withdrew the gun from between your legs and brought it up to his face, running his tongue over the barrel and moaning at the taste of you. He tossed the weapon aside carelessly before bringing his hands up to wrench the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, until it was pooled around your ankles.

“Just fucking look at that.” He murmured as his eyes raked over you. “No wonder the Genoveses keep you a secret.”

He brought one hand to dig painfully into your breast as his other slipped between your thighs. You removed the knife from his neck before slashing it across his chest in a quick motion, making him hiss as you ducked your head to drag your tongue over the wound, moaning as the metallic taste of his blood hit your tongue.

His backhand sent your sprawling, your teeth cutting the inside of your cheek as the knife flew out of your hand. You laughed darkly as you straightened back up, spitting the blood out of your mouth as you watched him strip off his clothes.

“I’m gonna split you open and break you apart, cunt.” He spat as he stalked towards you. His body had an air of menace about it, thick corded muscles stretched over his frame that was covered in scars. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me.”

You groaned as he pounced on you, his mouth moving to trace your breasts hungrily as his fingers dug into the small of your back. You sucked in a harsh breath and wrapped your fingers in his hair painfully as you felt him sink his teeth into you and he moaned into your soft flesh. He moved his teeth over your tits in a vicious trail, marking you with them.

“Fuck.” You hissed as a particularly deep bite had him drawing blood.

He wrenched himself up to glare at you and wrapped his hand around your throat tight enough that it was cutting off your oxygen.

“I don’t wanna hear another word out of that mouth of yours.” He growled, pressing you against the wall again. “I’d shut you up with my cock, but I wanna wreck that hole between your legs first.”

He slapped his swollen tip against your pussy once before spearing into you. He grinned wolfishly as he felt your throat vibrating under his hand and he bent to scrape his teeth over your jaw.

“God, this whore pussy is so fucking tight.” He growled into your ear. “You’re squeezing me so hard, you gonna cum already?”

He felt you stiffen for a beat and then you were quivering around him, a thin whine escaping from your tightened throat as you raked your fingers down the muscles of his back, drawing deep gauges with your nails.

He slammed your head against the wall hard enough to draw blood as your release seeped over his cock, leaking down the inside of your thighs as you fought the urge to pass out.

Robert released you suddenly, his hand leaving your throat as he pulled out. You only had a second to suck in a breath as he spun you around, tilting your hips just a bit before slamming into you again. You pressed your cheek against the wall as he plunged into you brutally.

You let out a series of small whimpers as he pinched your nipples harshly, tugging at them and pulling your tits away from your body. You fought the urge to yelp when he slapped them, making your pussy clamp down on his cock as he fucked into you.

“What a good little slut you are.” He hissed in against your hair, smearing his face through the blood seeping from your head wound. “Yeah, you love the feel of my big fucking cock inside you?”

The only answer you could give was a low moan, followed by a gasp as he wrapped a hand around to pinch your clit.

“That’s right bitch, cream all over me. God you’re fucking cock drunk, aren’t you?”

You just whined as he tweaked your clit one more time and you came apart, your legs giving out. Robert wrapped a hand around your thigh and drew it up to pin against your waist as your body quivered against him, your pussy milking his cock as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Fuck.” He whispered as his cock twitched inside you and he sank his teeth into your shoulder as he came, blood welling into his mouth as you cried wordlessly and he shot his seed into you, coating your canal in thick hot ropes that seeped out over your thighs.

He kept fucking you through it until he started to soften, then shoved you against the wall violently, pulling away and spitting your blood out of his mouth.

He watched you closely as you turned around, doing his best to keep from hardening again as he looked at you. Your hips and thighs were covered in bruises that were sure to darken even more over the next few days. There was the trace of his hand over your neck that you were absentmindedly running your fingers over. The side of your face where he had slapped you was starting to swell, a shallow cut running along your cheekbone. Blood was leaking from the corner of your mouth and your chest was covered in angry bite marks, some of them bleeding.

You wiped your hand across your face as you stared back at him, wincing. He didn’t look any better. His chest was covered in deep scratches and claw marks, smeared with blood from the cut on his chest. A thin red trail was running down his neck from the shallow prick you had made under his chin. His face was smeared with your blood from where he had buried himself in your hair, and when he turned to collect his clothes, you admired the deep gauges you’d made in his back.

“That was something.” You murmured, catching your dress in mid-air as he tossed it at you. You flicked your head towards where the body was suspended and gave a deep sigh. “Where’s your bonesaw?”

A/N: Welp, I’m going to hell, but at least I’m taking you hoes with me!

Tags!

@stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @ozarkthedog @drabblewithfrannybarnes @slothspaghettiwrites @sultrygoblin

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turtle-steverogers · 3 years ago

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hii, it's the unsent project anon again!! sometimes i think about steve. instead of going back in time for yk, he goes back in time to see his mother again. and has a dance with his mother because he never got to before for several reasons. it would be more rocking from foot to foot than anything else. and steve can barely see through his clumped up lashes from the tears while she strokes the side of his head before cradling it (its a bit of a stretch because he is all big and healthy now) while muttering, "my stevie, my boy" and steve just grins "it's me, ma".

(he would come back after spending some time with her, with a heavy heart but still)

was thinking about this at like 3 in the morning

anon i genuinely think you're trying to murder me lakjdflksjfaskdjflksf

anyway i wrote another fic

There are extra white jackets in the back closet, and Steve steals one that’s approximately his size, despite the shoulders being a bit too tight. Pants are a little harder to come by, but he manages to find a pair that look like they’ll fit him in some poor chap’s locker. He tugs them on, grimacing at the way they hug his thighs and fall only to his ankles. They’ll have to do.

He’d already scoped out the hospital the night before-- he knows she’s on the third floor in a private ward. Good, he thinks. She deserves it, if nothing else.

He is focused as he moves through the halls, head down as he passes other nurses. There’s a clipboard discarded on a table near the children’s ward and he swiftly picks it up, squinting at it. He doesn’t process any of the words on the page, but his act seems sound, because nobody stops him.

He makes it to the stairwell at the end of the hall, pushes open the door and takes the steps two at a time. The smell is one that is achingly familiar-- the walls grey and hazy. The air seems thicker, the lights yellow and dim. And though he’s been removed from the past for over a decade, it still feels like home. Like normal. His normal.

But he does not belong anymore, and he will not stay. He’s already been a ghost once. He’s hesitant to be one again.

Especially now, when he is out there somewhere. Most likely in the shitty tenement he shared with Bucky, but also possibly at the grocer he worked at, his ma’s telegram in his pocket. Savoring the bits of her that he could salvage with the knowledge he’d never see her again, even while she’s alive.

Closure has been something Steve always felt he lacked. But he’s seen hell now-- lived in its fiery pits for more years than he can count. He can take some goddamn closure for himself.

The third floor is nearly vacant. No one is in the hallway when Steve steps out of the stairwell, but he can hear voices in the rooms that line the sides. Coughs echo ominously off the walls, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes, a brief wave of anxiety washing over him. He hadn’t missed these hospitals, and he’d hoped to never deliberately step foot in one again. But this is necessary. This is worth it.

He walks swiftly towards the end of the hall where the private wards are and stops in front of the first room. The name next to the door is incorrect, so he continues on until he sees it, heart stopping in his chest, then speeding up enough to make his lungs tighten.

Sarah Rogers-- TB. Alternative uniform required.

Steve closes his eyes against the blood rushing from his head. He wants to tell himself it’s been so long since he’s felt this detached from reality-- this out of place in a space that should feel so familiar-- but it hasn’t. The feeling, he’s realizing, never truly left him when he woke up from the ice, and the reverse here is strange.

And there’s something even stranger about reconciling this, because he’d lost his ma far before he’d ever died. This grief is an old wound-- one that’s scabbed over only to bleed circumstantially. He’d grown used to living with this particular, bone deep pain. He isn’t sure if he’s here to lance that, or if he’ll walk away with a deeper wound. He isn’t sure it matters, either.

He pushes open the door.

The room is lit with natural light. There is a desk with a vase and a water pitcher on it, along with a few medicine bottles and a tissue box. The bed is pressed against the far wall, the covers barely disturbed save for the frail figure that lies in it.

Sarah turns her head and looks at Steve.

Steve’s world stops.

He hadn’t seen his ma when she was this ill. His last memories of her are of when she was healthy-- cheeks red and full of life, eyes alight with an optimism he still valiantly tries to uphold. Life had not been kind to Sarah Rogers, but she was the kindest soul Steve had ever known, even in the shadow of his father’s violence.

Is, he corrects himself as he looks at her. She is the kindest soul. She’s there. She’s right there.

She’s right there, and she looks weak. She is gaunt and frail, eyes sunken in and cheekbones sharp against papery looking skin. There’s an exhaustion in the lines of her young face that Steve recognizes as the long standing effects of illness-- your body praying to be done fighting while your mind begs otherwise.

Steve resists the urge to turn and run.

Sarah��s face does something strange as she looks at Steve, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for longer than would be normal for a nurse-- shell shocked and silent. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, eyes widening as she seems to process what she’s looking at. Or who she’s looking at, most likely.

A wizened hand comes up to cover her mouth and she gasps, fear flashing through her eyes and no, no, no--

Fuck, he’d thought of this. He’d had a fucking plan for this, but he can’t remember it now and he really doesn’t want his ma calling security on him, because he has so much to say, and--

“Ma,” he says frantically, taking an aborted step forward. She shies away and he stops, hands flexing at his sides. “Ma, it’s me. I swear it’s me, I can explain.”

Sarah looks suddenly furious. “This is not funny, young man. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this instant.”

Fuck, her voice. Her goddamn voice, as weak as it is now, still has the same strong cadence. The subtle Irish twang. And fuck, Steve can’t help it. He bursts into tears.

“Fuck,” he says, falling to his knees. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could stomach the weight of everything that’s happened since he last saw her-- handle standing in front of her with blood on his hands, underneath his fingernails. In his goddamn soul. What would she even think of him now?

He sobs, biting down on a knuckle to keep silent, his other arm going around his stomach. It’s how he used to cry when he was much younger, and more frantic, and that seems to convince Sarah more than anything.

“Steven?” she says. She sounds incredulous. Damnit, she probably thinks she’s hallucinating. Steve had hallucinated a couple times when he was ill enough and his fever was high. Mostly his father, but he’ll digress.

He looks up, and he can barely see her through the tears that clump on his eyelashes. Sarah’s face does something complicated, then softens, and she reaches out a hand. Steve looks at it and sobs harder.

“Oh, Stevie. My boy, come here,” she says, because maybe he is a goddamn hallucination, but her instinct was always to comfort those in pain. She was a nurse, after all.

Steve is goddamn helpless.

He manages to get to her bedside, chest heaving as he buries his face in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s me, ma. I promise it’s me. I can explain, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that you can explain,” Sarah says sternly, and fuck, he’d missed her chastising him. He can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and watery. “What happened to you? Why are you--” Big. Healthy. “Steven, you can’t be in here. I’m highly contagious.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t matter. I can’t get sick.” And oh, his accent is back. He hasn’t had one in years. Decades. A goddamn century.

Sarah lets out a strangled laugh that quickly turns into coughing, and Steve briefly wonders how close she is to death. She died in Winter, and it is sometime in Fall right now. Close then, he thinks. He hugs her harder as the coughing dies down.

“A stór, do you hear yourself? You had pneumonia last Summer.”

Summer. Last Summer. In this world, it had only been a mere few months without her. A fresh wave of grief washes over Steve, and then he can’t help another laugh, then another, and suddenly he’s cracking up into her stomach. Laughing like the insane man he feels he often is.

Sarah freezes, then reaches out to lift his face, their eyes meeting. His laughing stops. She gasps again.

“It really is you,” she murmurs, thumbs moving to the outside corners of his eyes, where there are two identical freckles. Little stars, she used to call them.

Steve offers her a brave smile. “Yeah, ma. It is.”

Sarah shakes her head. “What happened?” she asks again.

“I… so much,” Steve breathes. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I-- I don’t know where to start, but god, I just wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

Sarah studies his face. “You’re so tired,” she says, thumb stroking his eye again. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. His lip trembles.

“So tired,” he agrees.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” Sarah says. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I just… Steven, you look so different.”

Steve laughs, wiping at his eyes. “In a few years, there’s a war,” he says. Blunt-- they’d always been so straightforward with each other. “A scientist-- god, please don’t be mad-- a scientist offered, or… offers? Offered me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Of course you did,” Sarah murmurs, looking fond and angry despite. She seems to set that train of thought aside. “Germany?” and oh, right. It’s already been in the news, the new reign.

“Yeah.”

Sarah hums. “My dear, you look like you’ve seen more than just war.”

Just war. As if any war was just anything.

As if his war ever truly stopped.

He casts his gaze down.

“Yeah,” he says again, and he thinks of Bucky, who’s also yet to come home from the war. Bucky, who is probably somewhere at the docks right now, untouched by anything but insecurity and financial hell. He desperately wishes they both can soon. This visit, he hopes, will bring him one step closer.

Sarah must read his mind, because her face clouds over.

“Bucky…?”

“Survives,” Steve says quickly, then backtracks. “Kind of. We both kind of died, then came back to life in the future and--” Sarah looks horrified now, and Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. We’re together.”

“Alright,” Sarah says slowly. “As long as you’re together.”

Steve nods, and fuck, he wishes he could have brought Bucky, too. Sam as well-- showed his ma his new friends. The brave new family he’s made for himself. The thought has his eyes swimming again, and he screws up his face, trying not to cry. He’s a goddamn mess. It’s ridiculous.

“I must admit, I’m quite confused,” Sarah says. “And sweetheart, you’re not talking.”

Steve shakes his head, and her arms come around him. He melts into the hold-- savors the feeling. Memorizes the pressure, her smell, and pockets it away for later.

“I just missed you so much is all,” he croaks. “And I-- ma… I’ve done so much. I’ve hurt so many people. Killed so many people, and I still feel so lost, and everything hurts and oh Christ, I’ve just-- I miss you.”

He had sworn to himself, before coming in, that he wouldn’t unload any of this onto her. But her warmth is all encompassing, and he craves her comfort. Her approval. Her strong, sure tone telling him everything will be okay.

That he will be okay. He has to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

“Lord’s name,” Sarah murmurs, and Steve huffs another laugh. She runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I do know you, dearheart. And I know that you are a good person. A gentle person-- my gentle boy, if you’d had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen violence. But you know more than anyone how mean the world can be. You might have had to make hard decisions, done bad things, but you, Steven, are not bad.”

Steve’s lips part. It doesn’t fix everything, the words-- it barely scrapes the surface of the wall of pain and guilt that suffocates him. But for a moment, the world seems clearer. Quieter. The ache in his chest lanced for one, freeing breath.

“Ma…” Steve says. He doesn’t know how to thank her-- what to say-- because here she is, offering him warmth and closure, even though she might still think he’s nothing but a figment of her imagination. He craves her compassion; her generosity. Swears to uphold it as best he can.

You always stand up, she once told him. He will still, he thinks. He always will. And he will now.

He’ll go home to his family-- his life-- and goddamn live finally. He’s been surviving for so long, he realizes. It’s about damn time for him to stand up and live.

“You’ve still got the same heart,” Sarah continues. She pokes his freckles again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve lifts a hand to cover hers. Her hands are as soft as they always were and he turns his face to kiss her knuckles, then leans forward to kiss her cheek, eyes closing as memories of doing that before running off to school or to play flash through his mind. She smells faintly of vanilla. He wonders if she still dabs it behind her ears.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, ma. I love you. I love you so much-- thank you for being there for me. For raising me, and loving me.”

Sarah hugs him. Outside the room, there are voices; shuffling. He needs to go. The window is open, and they’re only three floors up.

“Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done,” Sarah says. She looks at the door. The voices are closer now. She kisses his forehead. Another echo of a life long gone. “Go now, Steven. Go home.”

Steve looks at her one last time, drinking in the love in her eyes. And as he climbs out the window, the too-tight doctor’s coat ripping around the shoulder seams, he can’t help but think that he’d gotten her eyes right whenever he’d painted her.

Her love won’t be something so easily forgotten.

Bucky catches him before he can collapse as he reappears on the launch pad. He lowers them to the ground, cradling Steve’s head with and letting him practically climb into his lap as he weeps, overwhelmed.

After a few minutes, he pulls back. Bucky’s watching him, concerned, and Steve leans in to gently kiss him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, wary as they pull apart. He reaches out to swipe some tears off Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says. “All the stones are back-- everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Relief washes over Bucky’s face and he kisses Steve, smiling. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “Thank god.”

Steve wraps his arms around his neck, humming in agreement. Sam and Bruce are somewhere-- Steve can hear them talking-- but it’s distant.

They’re quiet for a long time, breathing in each other. Bucky’s arms feel so goddamn safe that Steve feels his resolve slipping again. He can tell Bucky things. He can be here with him now. Home.

“I went to see her,” he whispers.

Bucky stills where he was previously rocking them lightly.

“Her…” Bucky says, then shifts. “Your ma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bucky squeezes him tighter. “How-- how was that? How did she…”

“She was confused. I don’t even know if she knew I was real.”

Bucky pauses, then kisses behind his ear. Steve thinks of vanilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

“No, it was-- good. Needed. I feel… good.”

“That’s so good, honey.”

“She asked about you-- wanted to know if you were, um, alive. I told her you were.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and there’s a small smile on his face now. Bucky had loved Sarah as if she were another mother, and Steve had done the same with Winnifred. It was a privilege to have had both of their protective arms. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘as long as we’re together’.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve wants to reach out and touch, so he does, because he can do that now. Bucky is tangible. He is here.

“She’s got a point,” Bucky says. He goes back to rocking them and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. He hears Bucky start to say something, then stop.

“What?” he asks, pulling back.

Bucky studies him. “Did you want to stay?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious, and Steve considers it.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Just… instinctively. It’s an opportunity I might have taken up if someone offered it ten years ago, but… I’m a ghost there now, like I was a ghost here, and I don’t want to do that again.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Bucky nods, cupping Steve’s cheek and thumbing his jaw affectionately. “I hear you,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

“And besides, my ma told me to go home before I left,” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s cheek in return. “So I did.”

Bucky smiles, and presses their foreheads together.

“We can do that now,” Bucky says. “We can go home. We can rest.”

And there are still things to do-- Steve doesn’t think there ever won’t be things to be done. But that can wait for another day.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s grungy, dirt digging in bone deep from the whirlwind of the last few weeks. He smirks, climbing off Bucky’s lap. “But I call first shower.”

Bucky snorts and stands, pulling Steve up.

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

Yeah. The world can wait another day.

There’s a bottle of vanilla in the spice cabinet. Steve sees it as he’s looking for the cinnamon. The kitchen is empty, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s not alone.

He takes the vanilla out and dabs some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it behind his ears. He closes his eyes, letting the smell wash over him. He can still feel his ma’s arms around him, keeping him warm.

Home. He’s home.

thanks for reading yall aflkdjflaksjdf

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #post endgame #i swore to myself i wouldnt write an endgame fix it but here i am i guess #stucky fic #sarah rogers #my queen #my love #i love her #oop

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libradusk · 4 years ago

Text

Ignited | Rex

Word Count: 8,388

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Summary: After an unexpected crash landing on Felucia results in Rex becoming entangled within a particularly sticky patch of foliage, an even stickier situation unfolds between the pair of you.

Warnings/Content: Explicit smut, as in the longest smut fic I’ve written so far, Rex gets a face full of Sex Pollen tropes (and by extension, slight dub-con by virtue of that?), AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), oral sex (reader receiving), hintssss of cock warming + breeding kink because that’s what I’m here for baby, can’t lie there are clear feelings involved because I’m too soft for this MAN.

a/n: This is set during the events of “Bounty Hunters” from season 2 of TCW, except instead of fighting pirates the reader and Rex end up boning down.

I took some liberties (I guess??) with the writing of the ship and also Clone Trooper equipment for plot purposes but let’s be real that’s not why any of us are here rn.

I’ve had this + a sequel planned out forever so its such a relief to finally have finished part 1 of this behemoth at least.

And now, at last - have part 2

When the command that would reassign you to the Felucia Medical Base had first been issued, you were none too happy about it. You had become quite content with your duties amidst the 501st, as well as the closeness you had cultivated with its men, enough so that you were incredibly reluctant to see an end to it all. Despite the severity of the war currently plaguing the Galaxy, and their especially heavy involvement in fighting for the Republic side, the 501st always seemed to find a way to rekindle your optimism in a multitude of ways that were unique to them. It was refreshing. You considered yourself incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many individuals, soldiers and Generals alike, who never failed to treat both you and each other as though you were each true individuals in their own unconventional family unit.

But alas, your luck had finally run dry. As instructed by the forces commanding both you and your unit of staff, you were now to stay at the base to re-establish its connections, as well as to provide a befittingly intricate report as needed.

Orders were orders.

Didn't mean you had to like them though.

You glare out into the darkness of space as that thought continues to swarm around your mind. The ship you’re currently situated upon cuts smoothly behind the one piloted by General Skywalker himself. You secretly thank the stars that you don’t have to share a vehicle with Anakin, considering how you’ve witnessed his reckless flying techniques numerous times over in the time you’ve known him. But even so, you can’t help but silently curse your own ship for being the object responsible for pulling you away from the only sense of true belonging you’ve felt since joining the army. All you can hope for is that the medical station isn’t too heavily damaged despite losing contact with the base of operations, and that by some miracle you can pull some strings to get reassigned back to your boys before your work within Felucia’s orbit threatens to drown you.

The dark expanse beyond the transparisteel viewpoint appears vast and inviting, as though beckoning you to sink into its velvet depths. You imagine the tenderness of the reprieve it could offer you in your fantasies, transporting you to a place where you could surround yourself with pleasant memories and little else.

Running away from your obligations would only ever get you so far, but for a moment it was blissful to relax into the thought of it. It made the ache of reality twinge a little less painfully in your chest.

You feel the warm weight of a pair of hands on your shoulders before your eyes unglaze enough to register them decorating your reflection. Captain Rex stands to attention behind you, the gentle hold of his palms atop your shoulders being the only aspect to break the picture of discipline his stance holds as he follows your gaze out to the stars. He allows his touch to linger for a moment more - to anyone else it would likely appear as no more than a colleague extending a gesture of camaraderie to a solemn looking comrade, but you know that to him it probably feels like the greatest of sins. His helmet obscures his expression, but you can hear the swish of his kama as he fidgets ever so slightly in place and you wonder if his thoughts are as overcast as your own.

This unspoken attraction, tiptoeing the line of propriety with each affectionate jest or brush of skin against armour in the corridor… it had all been going on for months now, to the extent where even Rex’s own men were beginning to whisper through the cracks in his resolve. Though now it seemed that this too would be forced to come to an end, snuffed out before it ever truly had a chance to bloom. The taste of that knowledge is sour on your tongue as you bite down on it to quash the sense of mourning that had suddenly washed over you.

It's exceedingly difficult to not take it as a form of punishment, even though you know that’s not the case. Really, you should be honoured to be appointed in charge of the station, but the fact that you had no way of knowing if it was even salvageable until you arrived there did precious little to alleviate the miserable affair this had all devolved into.

Your shoulders feel naked without his touch now and you realise that you’re yearning more than ever now that your hypothetical future with Rex is about to be torn away from you in less than an hour’s time. You find yourself wondering once more what expression graces his face beneath the visor, if his eyes lingered on you instead of the stretch of space beyond where his reflection could reach. You decide to indulge in your little fantasy for just a while longer, war was a tragic business, and you would continue to take what respite was offered to you while you still could.

“We seem to have lost you to the stars again, Officer.”

Rex’s low tone jolts you out of your starry-eyed daydream, your reflection’s gaze refocusing back at you in the windowpane as the void of space framing it fades out to a grey in your peripheral. The smile in his voice is obvious to you, even with the helmet’s barrier. It's familiar, warm but a little sad as it wraps the playful quip in a mask of enough stoicism for it to slip under the radar of the few troops that share the ship’s interior with you both. They’re mostly shinies, picked to accompany your team alongside the Captain as an escort, just in case trouble awaited your group once you reached the medical station itself. You already had the company of two Jedi Generals and their Padawan, but you weren’t about to complain about having Rex present alongside them either.

“We’re approaching the Felucia Medical Station now,” Obi Wan’s voice crackles through the ship’s communicator and closes the window of chance for you to quip back at the Captain. The Jedi’s usually calm voice prickles with an apprehension that rises the closer his much smaller ship gets to the seemingly derelict station, “something is wrong… brace yourselves- !”

Time appears suspended around you the moment the first flash of streamlined grey cuts through the darkness surrounding your ships. You have little chance to throw more than a glance towards the ruined medical station orbiting Felucia before the knife-like structure of several vulture droids cut dangerously close to your ship.

“We need to move and evacuate, now!”

You aren’t sure if it's Rex’s voice or your own that echoes against the blaring siren of your ship as it takes the first hit of fire. The durasteel beneath your feet threatens to distort with the force of it, and you feel your breath stutter in your lungs as you’re shaken violently. You stumble to cling to a nearby surface while simultaneously shoving a rather shell-shocked member of your team down towards where the ship’s escape pods are located, eyes squinting through the flash of crimson beating off the walls around you. Your gaze locks on to Rex as he stands by the doorway, ushering the last few stragglers through it with a determined wave of his hand. The dark visor of his helmet flashes dangerously with each pulse of the alarm light, bathing his white armour in a bloody glow that darkens and spreads in time with its screeching. It dawns on you then, that this might very well be the last you see of him after all, even without setting foot on the medical station itself - this, as bitter a circumstance as it is, seems much more twistedly befitting.

Another blast collides with your ship, this one buckling the wall directly behind Rex and warping the exit’s frame with the force of it. You hear Rex cry out, the sound shocking straight through you as he’s thrown forward in an explosion of sparkling wire and twisted durasteel. The sight of him struck down to his knees is enough to shoot another bolt of adrenaline up your spine, and you launch yourself towards him despite the unsteadiness of your own legs in supporting you. He’s still very much conscious, but clearly injured as you grit your teeth and drag him to his feet, all but throwing the pair of you through the sparking blast door and towards an empty escape pod as the remnants of your ship begin to hurtle further towards Felucia’s surface.

---

Your landing is less than graceful, with your pod catching its underside on a particularly sharp jut of rock on its decline and sending itself skidding across the swampy ground. The impact of the connection sends your head spinning once more, and you’re forced to take a few minutes to regulate your breathing and ensure that your vision is no longer swimming before you can open your eyes and dare to venture outside. You flex the fingers on both hands before stretching out each of your limbs on instinct, relieved to find that somehow, nothing appeared to be broken and at worse you had suffered a few mere bruises despite a landing that would have made Skywalker himself proud.

The humidity of Felucia’s climate hits you the moment you step out of the ruined pod, legs carrying you with all the grace of a baby Krugga deer. It clings to your clothes as you survey the damage dealt to what remains of your escape pod, though it chills down the back of your neck severely once it dawns on you that Rex is nowhere to be seen within the wreckage. In a burst of panic you jog forward blindly, calling out for him through a raspy throat even as you stumble into a particularly sticky patch of flora that coats your uniform in a sweet-smelling gunk. Your hands fumble across your torso before settling on the blaster strapped to your hip. You grip the trigger with clammy fingers as you force your eyes to focus completely and scan your surroundings, ears ringing with the calls of nature and unseen creatures around you.

Despite the bustle of the jungle-planet’s ecosystem all around you, you find yourself completely alone.

No troops, no supplies, no Jedi and no Rex.

Your blood suddenly feels cold despite the heat rippling across the horizon line. Each thump of your heart grows louder with every second that passes, drumming in your ears like a foreboding death march as the breath begins to skip in your lungs. It's just about drowned out the ambience across the clearing you’re frozen in when you finally hear it: a faint string of cursing in mando’a paired with the sound of very human struggling not far from where you are.

The sound of your footsteps pounding the earth reaches you before your breathing even has the chance to even itself out again.

“Rex! Oh thank goodness-”

You find the Captain entangled in an odd-looking shrubbery of fuchsia coloured thorns. The trooper’s helmet lays on its side, just out of reach as he struggles to free himself. The frustration is evident on his face as he attempts to contend with what is clearly an injured shoulder. Relief gushes through you all the same, and you waste no more time in helping him free himself.

You note the heaviness of the air around where he was trapped moments ago. The plant’s loosened pollen seemingly floats around its glossy flowers, its pinkish smog burning down your throat all the way to your belly as, despite your better judgement, you give in to your exhausted lungs and inhale too closely to it. The sensation is not unlike chasing a shot of Corellian whiskey, your head feels foggy just from the time it takes you to untangle Rex from the vines’ clutches.

Rex’s voice drawls out like his gullet is coated with honey as he groans in pain. His eyes appear largely absent even as he weakly gestures to his utility belt and the familiar prickle of panic begins to bite at you once more. You rummage through his pack and note the half-used tube of bacta tucked away within it, which you fumble to apply to the exposed wound on his shoulder. The gash glares angry and bloody from the tear in his blacks as it peers out from the gap between where his pauldron and chest-plate meet. You cringe as his entire body buckles at the touch of your fingers against his skin once you carefully tug off his armour, taking care to try not to jostle him too much in the process. Each swipe of your fingertips against his body, injured or not, has him reacting like he’s received a kick to the gut. The panic melts into a simmering worry once you finish seeing to his more obvious wounds. You take solace in the knowledge that the bacta will no doubt work on the worst of his abrasions, but the way he’s now shivering and clenching his jaw with that same hazy stare sparks a new sense of concern within you.

“... Are you sure you can stand? You still seem in pretty bad shape.”

He coughs into his fist a few times before pinching the bridge of his nose in an obvious attempt to clear his vision and mind. His eyes are heavily-lidded when his gaze drags over to meet with your own.

“... yeah, I-I’ll be fine, heads just still spinning from where I was thrown out the ‘pod.”

Your eyes widen at his words and your fingers flex with the instinctual drive to check over his heaving body for any signs of internal damage or fractures. Even through his discomfort, he seems to read your expression before the accompanying words can leave your lips.

“Nothin’s broken, can tell you that much. This… foliage, whatever it is, broke my fall. Though I dread to think how much longer I would’ve been struggling in it if you hadn’t found me when you did. Thanks, by the way.”

A sigh of relief rushes from you at his reassurance, though you can’t help but eye him sceptically as he grits through the pain to shake out the stiffness in his joints. You pat his back comfortingly as you look towards the distance, newly set on locating yourself a less obvious place of shelter for the night than what the remnants of the escape pod could offer to you both. The Separatists would pick the two of you off easily if they were to find you in such a vulnerable state, but Rex still needed a sheltered place to rest in order for the bacta to heal his wounds all the same. With another sigh and the exchange of a few words of encouragement, you urge him to walk forwards into the underbrush. You take care to keep him close in your peripheral as you bundle up his removed armour under one arm and keep the blaster raised in your other, eyes keenly trained on your surroundings all the while in case you were to spot another one of your separated allies, or in case of more insidious forces raising their heads.

---

Your prayers seem to be answered in record time, as the pair of you manage to stumble on a cave far enough away from your crash-point for you to consider it safe. It’s discovery couldn’t have come at an any more pinnacle moment, as Rex’s shivering has only worsened in the time that has passed, so much so that now you can’t even reach out an arm to support his heaving shoulders without the contact of your body heat against his own sending him spiralling into another fit of quivering, cold sweats. The situation is only made more daunting with the fact that you have yet to stumble on any of your lost allies, Jedi or otherwise, and at this point the ground itself feels as though it is pulsating under your boots with how high the heat has risen.

Quickly, you usher Rex towards a nearby patch of bushes as you step forward to survey the cave for signs of life, heart hammering in a combination of nerves and exhaustion drawn from trekking under the Felucian sun. Finding it satisfyingly empty, you beckon the Captain forward. No sooner does Rex gingerly set himself down with a grunt does his comlink finally crackle to life. Anakin’s voice sounds distorted and broken as it strains from the trooper’s wrist and you can’t help but fixate on the beads of sweat that trickle down Rex’s neck into the collar of his blacks as he lifts his arm towards his flushed face.

“-Rex, Rex! Do you read me, Rex?-”

“...Yeah General Skywalker, I hear you. Signal’s spotting something terrible, sir, but it's better than nothing.”

You hear a muddle of voices dancing amidst the static and move drop down to where Rex slumps against the cool surface of the cave wall. Your body brushes against his as you lean closer, and his breath hitches audibly despite it being the uninjured side you come into contact with.

“Everything ok there Rex? You sound in a bad way.” It’s Obi-Wan’s concerned tone that echoes across the cave space this time, and Rex shakes his head despite the General having no way to see his reaction.

“N-no I’m fine, just took a hit when the vulture droids took down our ship is all. I’ll be fine, I’m not alone.”

“I’m here with Captain Rex, General Kenobi. We still haven’t been able to locate the rest of the group we initially set off with, but we’re safe and sheltered for now.” You duck closer to Rex’s suspended wrist, doing your best to ignore the heat of his breath fanning over your cheek as you speak into the communicator. You can feel his eyes on your profile, but keep your own fixated on the blue lines decorating his forearm plating all the while. “Rex is… His shoulder is injured. I’ve treated it with what I have available, but the medical supplies perished alongside our ship and it might be at least a night until we can judge if he’s well enough to set off through the wilderness again.”

There's a thoughtful hum from the other side of your communication link and you can only imagine that Kenobi is currently cupping his chin in thought at your words. A voice you recognise as Ahsoka’s chimes in before the Jedi Master can speak once more, the volume of her voice indicating that she must have snatched Anakin’s wrist close to her face before anyone else had the chance to interrupt her.

“We have most of the others here with us! Your pod can’t have landed much further away right- hey!-”

“As I was going to say before Ahsoka here decided to interrupt, you’re hopefully not much further away from where we currently are. I’ll send over our coordinates so you can hopefully use Rex’s equipment to track to our location. We seem to have stumbled upon some kind of farming settlement, we’re going to see if we can get some help from them once we get a little closer.”

For the first time since your crash-landing, the weight sitting across your chest eases a fraction, and it manifests into a small smile of relief that brightens your face in the fluorescent glow emitted by Rex’s comlink.

“Amazing! I’m so relieved you’re all ok, I’ll admit I feared the worst once our ships began to go down.”

“Please Officer, you should know better by now than to doubt my flying skills after everything you’ve seen so far-”

“Really Anakin? I’m not so sure that's the most reassuring statement you could have given, considering your reputation... Anyway, stay safe you two and try to reconnect with us as soon as possible. I’m sending the coordinates over now.”

There’s a faint beeping sound as what you assume to be the coordinates in question sync themselves up with your own location, and it isn't long before Rex lets slip a low groan of frustration as he eyes flicker to the small display screen on the inside of his wrist. Your newfound optimism drops at the sound.

“What is it?”

“It's gonna take at least a full day and a half on foot to get to where Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are, and that’s with us both operating at full capacity.” Rex punctuates his frustration with another pained hiss as his shoulders lurch forward towards you. Your hands instantly jut out to support the weight of him, resting firmly on his chest so as to avoid latching onto his injured shoulder. The full body shiver that wracks through him is apparent under your palms, as is the way his breath catches in his throat as you move a hand to press against his clammy forehead.

He’s boiling. There’s no way you can allow him to move from the cave as his condition currently stands. This is no simple case of blood loss and fleshwounds, whatever toxin present within that plant is currently forcing itself through his bloodstream with a vengeance and is clearly the main culprit behind his discomfort. You feel somewhat lightheaded yourself, especially in such close proximity to him. There’s a creeping heat fluttering across your skin despite the coolness the cave offers. It's been slowly gnawing at your flesh since you first came into contact with Rex’s botanic prison, and you can only imagine the intensity of how it's affecting Rex in comparison.

“Don’t make that face at me, I’m gonna be fine.” He speaks through gritted teeth as he furrows a brow at your expression, attempting and failing to appear strict as he pants up at you from where he sits slumped against the wall.

“You need to rest at least. Come here and let me check your vitals.”

I need to make sure this isn’t affecting you as seriously as it seems. You choose your spoken words cautiously as you slowly begin to strip him of the remainder of his armour, leaving him in just his blacks and boots. He protests weakly for a moment before giving in to your careful touch, resigning himself to simply instructing you on how to undo the more complicated latches keeping the plating in place and watching the movement of your fingertips dance down his body.

Somehow he’s burning even hotter beneath the plastoid, his breathing becoming shakier with each layer that is pulled away from his body. When your thigh brushes up against his own when you lean across him to place his thigh-plate on the rest of the armour-pile, he throws his head back and groans. The sound shoots straight through you despite your attempt to resist it - guilt crawling in to join it in quick succession.

“...m’sorry-” he glances at you bashfully beneath heavy lashes, pausing to wet his lips between a shuddering sigh as his head lolls back against the stone behind him, “-I’m just, just burning up - my body is on fire and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You take a deep breath of your own before opening your dry mouth to speak again.

“I-its ok Rex, You’re going to be ok, I promise. Here,” you reach down to where his utility belt sits beside him, unhooking the small canteen of water and raising it to his lips, “drink, you need to get some fluids in you.”

He takes the flask from you with fingers that hint of a tremor ghosting across them. You watch his reaction as he chugs it down, noting sadly that it hardly seems to bring him any relief. With an inward sigh, you refocus your attention to checking over his vitals, alerting him before your hands make contact with his body once more.

His muscles continue to twitch under your touch, but you’re relieved to find that despite his elevated body temperature and sensitivity, there are no glaring signs of toxin poisoning or major threat in his system. You reassure yourself that his condition likely stems from his body’s reaction to an unfamiliar substance, but it being one that didn’t appear to have any threat of being fatal to him. Even so, you make a decision to set off in search of the others as soon as you were possibly able to so that he could at least receive more in depth medical aid, cursing once again that the medical supplies destined for the ruined base perished in the attack on your ship.

As soon as you pull away, a sound leaves him that's akin to a whine and the heat of your own cheeks intensifies almost unbearably.

“...I should go find something to make a fire with. Try and get some rest, ok? I won’t go far I promise.”

You shrug off the jacket you’d slung over your shoulder the moment the atmosphere had become too hot to handle, flicking it out to the side to shake off any loose pollen before draping it warily over Rex’s torso. It's less of an effort to keep him warm, his shivers are beyond any help of this kind now, but you hope it's perceived as a caring gesture all the same. Perhaps it could serve as some semblance of a pillow if nothing else. You try to ignore the way his fingers instantly ball up in the fabric like a lover’s grip on the bed sheets.

It's strange, seeing him reduced to this, a side of him that you’ve never even caught a glimpse of beforehand when you thought you knew the Captain so well. You aren’t entirely sure how to act around him at the moment, because he seems so vulnerable and so sensitive to each brush against his body, leaning towards you each time like he can’t bear to be without contact despite the heat licking across his bones.

So you run away, just for a moment, just to give yourself enough time to process what's unfurling before your very eyes and the reasons as to why it's occurring. The humidity in the air is still stifling, even now the sun has begun to dip lower in the sky. A shivering sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding in is knocked from your lungs as the evening air enters them. It twists across your audience of none and sounds impossibly loud despite the bustle of nature all around you.

You somehow feel even more lost now than when you had started.

---

By the time you’ve loaded up on enough wood to make a decent campfire the temperature has dropped considerably. It breathes over your clammy skin mercifully, but does little to quell the heated thoughts plaguing your mind still. You waste no time in assembling a fire at the cave’s mouth. The sweat clinging to the back of your neck has cooled to a shivering kiss at this point, it dips its fingers down your spine as a breeze edges by you and licks across the flames. Rex’s groans of discomfort have lowered in pitch now, and they creep out from between the stones to settle deep in your stomach despite your increased attempts to bat them away. The uncomfortable heat building between your legs threatens to shackle them next to the fire, but the concern in your heart urges you forward to check on your injured soldier despite the heavy hesitation standing in your path. A particularly loud yelp proves to be the final push you need to shove you forward to a stumbled sprint.

What you find causes the remaining firewood in your hands to clatter noisily around your ankles. It splinters off towards the darker reaches of the caves to sit broken and forgotten while you stand slack jawed at the sight before you.

Rex lays writhing beneath your jacket, the material now wrung between the whitened knuckles of his fist as he bites down on it to try and smother his whimpering. It's become less of a blanket and more of a crude gag of sorts to cage his groans against. His blacks have been shed, they sit crumpled and hastily discarded across the cave’s floor. Rex is bare to your eyes, a tangle of panting breath and glistening, naked skin that almost appears to glow with the faint light of the campfire in the near distance. It serves to bathe him in copper, gilding his taunt muscles in a way that only emphasises the pure heat rolling off every inch of his body.

Your eyes rake over the whole shivering mess of him before you can bear to strip them away.

Your name all but wails from his lips once you can finally focus on how his gaze has locked onto you with a hunger - expression strained and apologetic, yet clouded with wide blown lust all the same. There's an echo of guilt that stirs your guts into knots, it screams at you as it bubbles over.

You should not be seeing this.

And yet you cannot look away now, your eyes drifting further down the valley of his stomach to where he grasps at himself. His wrist curls with each desperate jerk of his fist around his cock.

The coil winding inside you snaps to something hotter, yet your voice still fails you. It remains useless with an even greater intensity as he raises the same, glistening hand to smear it over his abdomen in a sparkling trail. He groans out your name again, something intelligible stumbling along behind it. The words are as jumbled as your thoughts.

“Mm-sorry. I tried to fight it but - but its too hot, m’burning-” Rex’s words slur together in a gasp. “Can’t, just can’t… fuck… I need you, need this, always needed…”

He trails off with another shaking moan as his hips canter and buck, body once again reminding him of the heat crawling over every one of his nerves.

“...I can’t, Rex.” He looks almost pitiful, but you can’t help but answer in a voice that’s stern, yet also too small in that moment for an officer of your capabilities. You try to keep your eyes trained on his upper half as you step closer, unsure if it's a thinly contained lust or concern fuelling your steps in that moment. The heat in your stomach billows higher the closer you get, and fuck - the waves of heat swelling from him seem almost contagious now.

Rex whines into your jacket in protest, and you can't help but ponder if this is truly the same steadfast soldier you thought you had known for months.

Against your screaming better judgement, you kneel down to check shaky fingers against his forehead. He leans desperately into the contact, but as quickly as the relief can flash across his face, it dies - replaced by a furrow of his brow and the straining of his arms as he so clearly fights to keep them pinned at his sides as you inch closer. There’s a new ache twisting in your heart over seeing him attempt to cling to the last shred of his composure, you think you can even make out the sparkle of frustrated tears gathering behind his lashes now.

“Oh, Rex…” Your words are carried on a whisper. The absurdity of your situation would have made you laugh if you were to have stumbled upon it in some sleazy holo-vid or novel, yet seeing the outcome of it play out in real life with someone you care for is gut wrenchingly frightening.

How long was this going to plague him? The thought of him twisting with an agony you cannot relieve makes your heart ache defeatedly, posture slumping to further accommodate the emotion burdening your form.

You sweep your hand down the slope of his cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him. His pulse thrums in his temple as your fingers skim over it in their path from his forehead. Surprise jumps in your stomach as he suddenly cocks his neck in order to softly catch your fingertips with the plush of his lips, pressing against them in a kiss that seems far too soft for how evidently worked up he is. The gentleness of the gesture contrasts with the harsh sigh of air that expels through his nose when your touch drifts away.

Those newly dangerous eyes lock with yours again, but he remains completely still now aside from the occasional shivers fluttering over his shoulders and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. You feel like you’re going to drown in them, but your legs refuse to step away. His gaze begins to roam as you stand paralysed beneath it, raking over your expression before settling at last on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own before he opens them to speak again, the vibrato of his voice feels damp against your skin despite the fact you’re no longer touching him.

“Please.”

His eyelids droop as he pushes the top half of his body forward into a bastardised mock-bow in front of you. Amber eyes cling to your own once again, their pupils still blown but his voice now regaining the sense of clarity that had been lost to him before.

“Please, I want this, I need this so badly-”

Your resolve finally snaps and you all but bruise his mouth in a kiss that sings of longing as much as it does unbearable desperation. You grasp his jaw tight in a clammy hold as your teeth clash together with the force of it all. His growl carries over your tongue once you slip the appendage into his mouth, though you can only bask in the tiny victory for a short moment before you’re all but choking on your surprise as Rex pounces and drags you down to the cool floor alongside him. It's as though he’s become revitalised by your touch and taste, arms caging you beneath a look so possessive that it shoots straight between your thighs. You can feel just how strong he is as he leans down to kiss you once more, the press of his broad chest against your captured self stealing the air from you in more ways than one. It's a body that has been engineered to fight and kill, one that is genetically identical to the thousands of brothers that take to the field alongside him each day of the war. Yet now as you battle against the force of him to run your fingernails through the blonde buzzcut atop his head and over the uneven surface of his scarred shoulders, you note that it's decorated with parts that are unique only to him.

There is only one Rex, and in this moment, you are as much his as he is yours.

And you want to help him through this, you do.

Your hands have barely begun to skim over the constellation of scars painted across his back before they’re pinned above your head as Rex begins to clumsily strip you, his teeth now finding purchase in the curve of your neck. Your head begins to spin again as your shirt is torn over your head and flung across the floor, both your undergarments and bottoms soon following alongside it. A gasp slips from you the moment your newly bare flesh makes contact with the chill of the cave floor, it pulls a shiver across your naked shoulders that only intensifies further when the heat of Rex’s mouth attaches itself to your skin again and again in a delicious contrast.

It's maddening, the pace he’s moving at. It’s as though he can’t dedicate too much time to one specific area of your body before his lust demands he move on to taste another. His palms are wide and impossibly hot against you as he grips your thighs with a battle hardened grip before spreading them unceremoniously. You yelp in surprise and push yourself up on your elbows the moment he does, limbs beginning to shake the moment hot breath fans over your core. There's a flash of what you believe is concern that darts across his eyes then, but it soon hardens as he takes in the sight of your parted lips and the flush that has spread down your throat. Rex clearly tries to keep his eyes trained on your expression as he lowers his attention to your cunt, but the moment the taste of you hits his tongue he can’t help but groan in relief, eyes fluttering closed as they threaten to roll back into his skull.

His closely-cropped hair gives you little to nothing to grip onto as the first wave of pleasure stutters over you, and you resolve to bunch your fists into the fabric of his blacks beneath your hips for support. He’s a messy eater, just like his kisses were moments beforehand. His teeth even threaten to graze you a few times as he nips at your inner thighs between each lathe of attention he flicks against your folds. It causes you to yelp in mild alarm each time he does before the sound is buried beneath your moans once more as soon as he finds a rhythm that he can work against you. Despite the way he’s currently growling into your pussy, he’s still clearly lucid enough to squeeze your thigh in what you think is apology each time, though the indents his nails leave behind beg otherwise.

Rex lazily fucks up into his hand as he tastes you, each vibrating groan stretched from within his throat only shooting further into your core. The flush in his cheeks blooms deeper now, and it peppers across the top of his chest in a ruby hue that only burns darker in the low light of the campfire. He looks beautiful, even in such a state as this, and you can’t help but cry out his name as he switches between sucking at your clit and circling it with the rough pad of his thumb.

“S’good.” Rex’s voice slurs as he whispers against you, letting out another deep groan of his own as he pushes a finger into you and watches you clench around it, your head falling back with a broken gasp. You can hear him audibly swallow at your reaction, it melts into a purr as he pulls back to marvel at his handiwork after bestowing another lingering swipe of his tongue across your thrumming bundle of nerves. A thin strand of slick and spit trails breaks away with the detachment of his lips and you moan at both the sight of him and the loss of his mouth’s contact. His other hand comes to rub circles into the muscle of your thigh and you can feel the precum slicking his fingers smear across your flesh before quickly cooling across the heated surface.

“So, so good for me. So gorgeous.”

His tone is gentle, reverent almost. It contrasts sharply with the way his hand inches to squeeze your inner thigh as the other curls a finger experimentally within you. It truly feels as though the tables have been turned on you now, and it's your turn to muffle the sob that bubbles up your throat with your hand, back arching at the feeling of his thick finger stretching and rubbing the inside of your walls and the praise rolling off his tongue. The pace of his wrist is slow enough to have your toes curling, but not enough to push you over the edge to where you desperately needed to be.

He appears to forget his desperation for a moment longer, continuing to sit back on his haunches to admire your expressions with a hint of a lopsided smile as you all but fuck yourself on his hand. Another strangled moan leaves you then, and it's this one that finally seems to break whatever trance he has drifted off into, the hunger filling his eyes once more to take the place of the love-sick adoration that had graced them before. You drawl out his name needily, that all too familiar heat that you had first experienced when you found him on Felucia’s surface blazing over your nerves with a higher intensity than before. He finally snaps once again and lurches forward to bite into another kiss, hands now taking a bruising hold on your hips. Your chest hitches with the emptiness you feel once his fingers leave you, though the press of his body above your own makes quick work of ceasing your squirming. His skin is boiling, the full weight of him almost suffocatingly hot and heavy as he brands you into the cave floor. You find your legs hooking over his hips on instinct, hands gripping onto his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself from the sensations bombarding you. The ambience of the outside world has silenced itself to you now, all you can focus on are the wet sounds of your mouths meeting in a series of breathless kisses and the beat of your pulse in your ears.

You inadvertently bite down on his bottom lip as he begins to rut his lower half against you, resulting in another low growl and an increased force in the jerk on his hips. Both of you moaning at how the length of his cock slides against the slick of your sex with each grinding movement.

“Rex… please.” You are the one begging this time, uncurling your newfound grip on his shoulders to begin creeping it down his abdomen. He allows you the freedom to do this, but keens into the crook of your neck once your fingers wrap around his cock and begin to guide it blindly towards your entrance. “Please, please, please…!”

Your mindless mantra cuts off abruptly as he finally presses his hips forward and sheathes himself completely within you in an aching push. The action knocks the wind from your lungs and stretches your mouth wide in a silent scream, but your eyes never leave his own the whole time. Despite the sudden rush of relief and the cloud of pheromones threatening to blind you, beneath his wall of tightly wound muscle and feral lust you sense a tinge of nervousness still. Shakily, you reach a hand to cup his cheek tenderly as you attempt to adjust to the size of him all the while.

“Fuck.” It’s all you can manage to spit out as he slowly begins to withdraw from you, the head of his cock scraping against your walls in a way that has your head lolling back and vision spinning. He’s a stretch, but he slots so perfectly back inside you with each purposeful thrust in a way no other has ever done before. It’s a real struggle to catch your breath before Rex begins canting his hips forward with an instinctive fever, his hands pulling up your lower body to meet with his thrusts as you lay limp with pleasure beneath him. His cock throbs so intensely that you can feel it, even through the harshness of the pace he’s set. The pattern of his hips is largely uneven, jerking between quick, shallow thrusts to slower, deeper movements that sink his cock so deeply within you that your clit kisses against his pubic bone in a way that has you clawing at his shoulders once more. You can’t tell if this is due to inexperience or the overwhelming pleasure shooting through him as you attempt to grind upwards against him, but the way he sinks his teeth into your neck in such a way that you know he’ll leave a mark reminds you that you don’t care either way.

Rex’s entire body purrs against you as he releases a hand from your hip to paw at your chest, mouth trailing sloppy kisses from the quickly forming bruise on your throat to paint your collarbone in shades of puce and violet. Soon you’ve all but folded around him like a love letter, one that is signed with strings of mumbled mando’a painted across your skin with each thrust that shakes your body. You’re confident your nails are leaving their own angry red marks across his shoulder blades as you try to tug him even closer and arch up against him when he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s all so messy and primal, with the heat of him crawling into your very lungs with each gasp he pushes out of you as he splits you open.

The wet slap of your bodies meeting is almost obscene as it echoes around the cave, the sound only punctured further with the whines and groans of the people responsible for it. Your head leans back into the cooling embrace of the stone floor once more, content to lose yourself to the hazy pleasure swimming in the air as Rex’s thrusts pick up in intensity.

You’re snapped out of your lustful fog when his palm cups the side of your face with an unexpected tenderness that conflicts with the fortified hold he has looped around your lower back. Your eyes snap back open to full alertness, and instantly meet with a gaze that is so focused that you feel it could cut down to peer into your very soul itself if it wanted to. Rex’s expression is almost predatory despite the tenderness with which he cradles your cheek, teeth obviously clenched along with every muscle in his jaw and upper body - and yet his eyes themselves look upon you as though you are the most beautiful being in the Galaxy despite your sweat-slickened face and the thick tears of pleasure that threaten to slip down your mottled cheeks.

The way his blonde tint of hair halos around his head and the shadows dance over the chiselled contours of his body make him look more myth than man, glowing and golden and impossibly powerful above you. But a strangled moan of your name as he brushes his thumb against your cheek reminds you that he is indeed as mortal as yourself.

You’re coming before you can even realise it.

Your orgasm is the type that whites out the world around you until only you and Rex remain, rolling over your whole body in waves that have you clenching around him so hard that his own movement is forced to still with the intensity of it, the weight of him locking you into place beneath him. Your legs quiver so hard that they border on aching as you throw your arms around his neck and scream silently into the crook of his shoulder, ears ringing in such a way that drowns out everything bar the sound of your lovemaking.

The spike of your pulse is so loud that you nearly miss the way he all but shouts your name as he reaches his climax right behind your own, the syllables encased within the stream of a low moan. His voice dips in a way you’ve never heard from him before as he releases deep inside of you in impossibly thick ropes that warm you from the inside out. It's choked on its own emotion as his hips give out a few weak, final thrusts that force more of his cum to pool out from your twitching cunt. He sobs something you can’t decipher into your neck as he loops both arms around your torso to tug you close, but you still feel the words humming over your oversensitive nerves with a vibration that bubbles into goosebumps across your shoulders and back.

The chill of the cave floor is soothing rather than biting against your spent limbs, and it only beckons forth your fatigue more as you relax against it. Your lower half remains practically sat in his lap, buried to the hilt even as your orgasm tapers off into a pleasant buzz. His cum continues to dribble down between you in syrupy trickles as you attempt to catch your breath, chest still heaving and hips burning in the most delightful way.

Rex’s head remains nestled in the crook of your neck even after you manage to raise a shaky arm to brush your digits across the fuzzy texture of his hair. He nuzzles against the particularly dark mark he had sucked into your flesh, panting words of endearment against you all the while.

“So perfect, just wanna keep you here - fuck - stay inside of you forever.”

It takes more strength than you would like to admit to raise yourself off the ground enough to coax him out from under your chin. You brush a feather-light touch across the line of his jaw before you steal away a kiss that’s the most gentle of the night, it's one that sings of untold feelings and creeping thoughts that sting when you pull back.

Even so, it's lazy and loving and Rex groans appreciatively into it, a sigh escaping through his nose as though you have breathed the life right back into him.

Lust quickly creeps back to cloud his vision once he props himself up to stare down at you again. His gaze openly flows over the sight of you splayed out and still stuffed full of him. A rumbled growl bubbles from behind his teeth as he worries them over his swollen lower lip, the sound shooting straight to your cunt once more and causing you to roll your tired hips against his without even thinking. An affectionate chuckle slips past his smirk and his face creases into something more familiar, more befitting of the Rex you had always known - though the fire in his eyes still continues to burn with the intensity of the man who had just fucked you senseless minutes prior.

“Sorry, Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice is thick and ragged as he speaks, his accent sharpening the words almost dangerously. Warmth blooms and spreads within your chest, the feeling sliding downwards in tandem with his hands against your sides before they eventually settle firmly on your hips with a familiar grip.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

#captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex #rex x reader #clone wars reader insert #clone wars imagine #this took forever #it just kept going before i could stop it #mine #rex

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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

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novae.

↳ what is grief, if not love persevering?

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ angst | fluff(?) | time traveler!au ◇ 1.8k [1/1]

notes: a polaris drabble, so please read that beforehand. summary is from wandavision, which i haven’t seen, but that line is everything and i got inspired! also, i am so not kidding about the angst!!! be warned!!! (and i’m not saying that you should listen to blue side while reading this but i’m also not not saying that, so....... do what you want 🤷🏻‍♀️)

warnings: not super edited bc i couldn’t handle it tbh, dealing with death and loss, i’m pretty sure this is the angst you were all afraid would be in polaris so sorry but there’s some cute stuff too i swear

You said goodbye to your husband yesterday. One final goodbye as you scattered his ashes to the wind, watching as they disappeared into the flurry of dry brown leaves spiraling into the river.

There’d been a wake, of course. Last week, at a modest little place on the outskirts of the city where you and your husband had made your home. You'd watched people come and go—friends and family and those acquaintances you never really knew but who all seemed to know your husband one way or another. They flowed on through, a seemingly never ending stream of dark-clothed mourners with good intentions and well-meaning words on their lips.

Thank you for coming, became your mantra after the first dozen or so. Yes, I'm fine. Sure, you can bring a casserole by the house tomorrow.

You really ought to put the casseroles in the fridge. They sit on the kitchen counter in a colorful array of dishes, wrapped in saran wrap and flecked with condensation from being packed up when they were still warm. You can see them from your seat at the dining table, as you tear your gaze away from the window it’s tucked against and prop your chin in your open palm.

The last of your family left yesterday, boarding flights and climbing into cars to return to their own lives. Your friends and neighbors offered their final condolences, before falling back into their own habits and routines. With their departure, you’re alone for the first time in what feels like forever, doing your best to pick up the pieces of your life. And though you have no more tears left to cry, there’s a rift in your heart that refuses to mend, the jagged edges of it digging into your lungs and ribs.

The house is cold without him by your side. That's what it is, now—a house, because you can no longer bear to call it home even if it doesn’t look any different than it did two weeks ago. The things that surround you—the worn couch and the novelty mugs and the patch of imperfect paint on the living room wall—they belong to you. The memories that well up when you look at them, they belong to you.

But they belong to him, too.

Your late husband’s presence lingers in everything around you. There's the faint dip in the couch cushion from decades of use—years of Netflix binges and late night cuddles and the occasional romp when the two of you couldn’t quite make it all the way to the bedroom. There’s the goofy cartoon sun that decorates your favorite mug—the very first one he'd gifted you all those years ago when you first started dating. There’s the memory of the laughter that creased his face when he accidentally leaned against the wet paint in the living room, his white t-shirt muddied with streaks of green. You'd fixed it, of course—done your best with the leftover paint scraped out of the bottom of the can. Doesn't have to be perfect though, he'd said with paint on his cheek. I think it's nice. Gives the place a little more character, you know?

Heaving a sigh, you push back from the table and wearily rise to your feet to put the casseroles away. But your fingertips have only just brushed one of the several ceramic platters lining the counter when there’s a sudden, loud thump from the living room.

“Damn it,” a voice says, and you freeze in your tracks, your heart skipping several beats. Your hearing isn’t what it used to be, but you’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hoseo—” you begin, but the second syllable gets caught in your throat. Your husband walks through the doorway with a curious little smile, and your eyes well up with tears that you didn’t even know you had left.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, coming to a stop before you and brushing a thumb across your cheek fondly. Then his expression sobers, as he takes in your misty gaze and the countless casseroles on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

This Hoseok is in his mid-forties, at most—several decades younger than you are in the present. There’s the barest glint of silver around his temples, a smattering of salt beginning to overtake the pepper of his hair, and you blink rapidly as your throat begins to well with emotion again.

“Hoseok,” you breathe. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” he confirms. His palm caresses your cheek, and you lean into the touch as he pulls you close and into the warmth of his chest.

It’s been years since you last saw a Hoseok that wasn’t your own—a Hoseok that came from a time that wasn’t your present. Once the two of you moved in together in your twenties, Hoseok’s travels through time tapered off. The last time you’d seen him was about six years ago, when an eighteen year old Hoseok stumbled into the backyard while you were planting peonies and your Hoseok was at the grocery store. You’d offered him milk and cookies, and he’d been all too happy to accept. You remember that he’d been stressed about final exams, at the time.

And now, here he is again, older and wiser and thankfully not scratched up from appearing in the middle of your rose bushes. Pulling back from the embrace, you take in his face once more, your gaze roving across the wrinkles of laughter around his eyes and the familiar freckle above his lip. His hair, upon closer inspection, is damp, and gingerly, you reach up to trail your fingers through it.

“Rain?” you ask. “Or shower?”

“Shower,” Hoseok replies with a smile, intercepting your hand and pressing a warm kiss to your frail knuckles. “Seriously, I just barely managed to get dressed before I found myself here.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, escaping into the open air and easing the tightness in your throat. “It’s good to see you,” you murmur, smiling when he laces your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze. “It’s so, so good to see you, Hobi.”

Hoseok chuckles and bumps his forehead gently against yours. “It’s good to see you too, babe.”

You laugh again at the term of endearment, smacking his chest weakly with your free hand. “Babe? I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

“And yet, you’re as pretty as you’ve ever been,” he replies with a grin. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Slowly, your smile fades. You think of the casseroles, and the jar of ashes you’d scattered to the wind. You think of the little spoonful of ashes you’d saved, that now hangs heavy in a locket in the hollow of your throat. “Hobi, I—”

You trail off, and Hoseok’s expression softens. “It’s me, right? I’m… gone?”

“You—” Sniffing, you bury your face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his citrusy shampoo melding with the vaguely floral laundry detergent you both favor. Underneath it all is something that is distinctly Hoseok, something warm and comfortable and inviting, and you sniffle again when he reaches up to stroke along your back.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “You can let it out. You’ve been so strong, but you can let it all out now. It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to do, Hobi,” you mumble into the sky blue cotton of his t-shirt, whisper-soft. “I don’t… I don’t think I know how to live without you.”

And it’s true. You’ve known Hoseok since you were eight years old—ever since he appeared in the middle of your garage and knocked over a can full of paintbrushes. You moved in together at twenty-four, got engaged two years later, and haven’t looked back since. You’ve given decades of your life and all of your love to Hoseok, and he’s done the same. And now all that you have left of him is a locket full of his ashes and a house filled to the brim with memories both good and bad.

“Were we happy?”

You blink, twice in rapid succession, before looking up into his achingly familiar face. His eyes are soft and his smile is tender, and you blink again slowly before answering. “Of course we were.”

Hoseok’s smile widens. He touches your cheek again gently, the pad of his thumb brushing the delicate skin just beneath your right eye. “And we had decades of happiness, didn’t we?”

“A lifetime’s worth,” you agree in a whisper. “But I’m selfish, Hobi. I want more. I want you.”

“You have me,” Hoseok replies, and your eyes flutter shut when he reaches up to cup your face in his hands, his touch delicate and light as if you’re something to be treasured. “I’ve been yours since we were kids, and I’ll be yours until the universe ends and the stars die out. You couldn’t get rid of me, even if you tried.”

The sound that escapes you is part laugh, part choked sob, and when you speak again, your voice is small. “I know. You’re right, and I know that. But—” and here your throat closes up, and you have to clear it twice just to continue on. “I just miss you, Hobi. I miss you so much. Between the wake and everyone coming into town, it just feels like… it feels like I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye.”

“Say it now, then,” he says easily, and you suck in a shaky breath.

“Really?”

“Really.”

So, you do. You tell him everything you never got a chance to say—from the stupid jokes you never got to crack, to how happy you are to have met him all those decades ago. Hoseok listens to you ramble on with a tender smile and his fingers twined with yours, and when you fall silent again, he utters four simple little words that somehow still manage to make your breach catch and your heart sing.

“I love you too.”

You nod, and blink back a fresh wave of tears. “Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, and you know he’s telling the truth because he’s incapable of lying. “I hope so. But even if you don’t, I know you’ll be okay. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re going to be fine. I know it.”

Hoseok stiffens, then, and you know it’s time for him to go. “I love you,” you repeat, whispering the words into his chest as if you can force them past the material of his shirt and imprint them into his very skin. “Goodbye, Hobi.”

Your husband squeezes your hand, planting twin kisses onto your eyelids one onto your lips. “Goodbye, {Name}.

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone once more.

#hoseok #hoseok scenarios #hoseok x reader #bts scenarios #hoseok x you #jhope #jhope scenarios #jung hoseok #bts #kpop scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #hoseok angst #bts angst #hoseok fluff #bts fluff #lia writes

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neonacity · 4 years ago

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HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him.

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks."

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him.

"How much money do you need?"

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa.

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?"

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup.

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?"

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about."

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink.

"You think you can do it?"

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips.

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal."

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering.

"It depends on the reason."

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said.

"The reason?"

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it."

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to."

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work.

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that."

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter.

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned.

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me?

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour?

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice.

"Jisung?"

"Noona, we need your help."

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin."

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark.

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard.

"Give me the phone."

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening."

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open.

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name.

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood.

"Oh my god."

"Please help us."

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it.

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again.

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features.

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please."

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders.

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me.

"Thank you."

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed.

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing.

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well.

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions.

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear.

I stared at him for a bit before looking away.

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much."

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time.

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?"

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze.

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped.

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock.

"A…"

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection."

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help.

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment.

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still.

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No.

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back."

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it."

Please don't leave me.

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips.

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him.

---

Chapter 4

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