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prettyboykatsuki · 2 months

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ANOTHER WORD FOR HOMESICK (I WANT TO SAY YOUR NAME AGAIN) | M. BACHIRA

☼ tags ; omegaverse, afab + fem!omega!!reader, alpha!bachira, childhood friends to lovers, established reader backstory, coming-of-age, romance, mutual pining, implicit sexual content (virginity loss to an oc), explicit sexual content ft. bonding, knotting, penetration, oral (f!recieving), fingering, praise, lovey dovey dirty talk, petnames (mostly baby) 18+

++ notes: readers appearance is mostly non-descript but they are shorter than bachira and have several piercings and a tattoo which are explained in story.

☼ content warnings ; lore applicable sexism, sexual harassment of reader as a minor (details in authors note, explained further in extended authors note), lore applicable homophobia, implied bisexuality + referenced mutual queerness queerness, underage drinking, heat / estrus as a symptom of puberty

please thoroughly read content warnings and tags before clicking read more.

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

THIS IS PART TWO. CLICK HERE TO HERE PART ONE.

☼ wc ; 16.8k / 33.2k

☼ a/n ; sorry for the incredibly long wait. as always i got extremely carried away. but cheers for fujoneet reader coming after this! written as part of the @ficsforgaza intiative

☼ synopsis ; you spend the next four years of your life pining miserably and trying to get over your first love. it all comes crashing during the year you turned twenty-one, fresh out of a break-up and forced to reconcile with your estranged childhood friend.

PART TWO: LIGHT MY WAY BACK HOME.

Freshman orientation seems less like an orientation and more like a social gathering.

You’re not really sure why you didn’t think of that. This one is being held by seniors in your department, so you figured they’d talk to you about things like majors or clubs or general campus life.

The presence of alcohol and cigarettes after only thirty minutes is what alerts you of your doom. You’re screwed.

For many reasons and in many ways.

For starters, you’re all the way out in Hokkaido, which is a 19 hour trip from your hometown. You don’t know anyone at school except that one alpha you keep bumping into, and more importantly - you wouldn’t know of any good ways to excuse yourself to leave. You don’t even know where to go if you did.

Secondly, you’re really not interested in drinking again. At least, not for now. The memory of Bachira is strangely fresh despite it being over a year since, and you’re afraid a drop of alcohol is going to make you spiral out and humiliate yourself in front of your peers.

Third, most of the people here seem at least somewhat acquainted with each other. From the introductions at the start, there’s only one other freshman here and he’s already friends with a bunch of people. On top of that, he’s the rowdy alpha type you have a hard time with so you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do other thank stick to the wall and hope for the best.

You text Miki-chan as you sit in the corner. Were you always this poor at socializing?

After a few minutes, someone comes and plops themselves next to you. You’re mildly startled by her presence, jumping in your skin. She smells sweet, a mix of overripe mango and something floral. You startle as she crowds in your space, eyes widening.

“You’re the new freshie, right?”

You blink at her then nod. She’s extremely pretty and not entirely Japanese which is common for this campus. “Uh, yes. Nice to meet you…”

“Hira,” She says easily

“Nice to meet you, Hira-senpai.” You bow.

“Oh, how formal! Sure, call me that if you want.” She moves in even closer. You feel your heartbeat skyrocket and feel thankful you’re wearing a scent patch. “You looked a little lonesome in the corner, so I thought I’d come save you. First party like this?”

You’re surprised. “Is it obvious?”

“Mm, not really. But I can tell at least. I’m good at reading people. And I was interested in you,”

You stare at her as she leans against the wall. Long lashes, dyed hair, full lips and a scent so intoxicating you could drown. You feel flush just looking at her, attracted to her undeniably. The look she’s giving you is making you a little delirious.

Your eyes go wide. “Sorry?”

She beams but doesn’t repeat herself. “Are you a beta?”

“An omega,”

You feel her nose brush against your covered scent glands and feel a jolt up your spine. “Oh, you are. You smell good.”

You blink slowly, hesitating. “Thanks.”

“Which way do you swing, then?”

Is she… hitting on you? Then again, she could just be the touchy type like Bachira.

“I prefer omegas. I’ve never dated an alpha seriously.” But I was in love with at least one.

Her eyes light up. “So you swing both ways, or at least you like omegas. Good. My radars rarely wrong. Ever been in a relationship with anyone?”

“Just for a few months in highschool.” You admit.

“Right. Got any experience then?”

She’s…

“Uh, not really no. Kissed and stuff but that’s about it.”

“Eighteen, no experience, and into other omegas…that tracks. You’re not having much fun at this party, either. So, how about…” You feel her hand on your thigh and nearly choke on air. “We change all of that in one go?”

You feel a little guilty. You’re not sure what you should be doing. You never really thought about losing your virginity when you were in school for obvious reasons, and thought of it even less so when you were with Bachira. It’s not like it’s of incredible importance to you. Is it something you should let go of easily? Does it matter?

On the other hand, are you ever going to have a beautiful omega girl older than you offer to take your virginity and it not be an illusion? You’re not really sure if it’s possible. And you’re a lot of things, but you’re not a eunuch. Some part of you hopes it’ll get your mind off of Bachira.

“I really don’t know what I’m doing, just as uh. As a prerequisite.” You say stiffly.

“Are you a quick learner?”

Your breath hitches. “Yeah,”

“Then you’ll be just fine! Sooo… wanna get out of here?”

Shit. “Uh, y-yeah.”

“Great!”

She grabs your hand, hauling you up and dragging you along with her. Some of the seniors in your department shoot you a look like they’re impressed and you’re not sure if you should be mortified or flattered. “Taking the freshie with me.”She turns to someone who’s name you don’t remember. “Don’t wait up! And don’t come home either.”

Said friend sighs. On the way out, you hear them ask around about sleeping over and feel a little guilty.

She tells you about herself on the way to her place. A short walk from campus, you spend most of it wondering if you’re in some kind of dream. Hira-senpai is mixed but she’s grown up in Sapporo for most of her life.

Half-north indian and half-japanese. Tan skin, brown eyes, and long hair - something about her looks straight out of a dream. She holds your hand on the way to her apartment and talks to you so casually it makes you feel like friends. She’s good at conversation in a way that’s familiar to you, reminds you a lot of Bachira no matter how much you hate making the comparison.

Most of all, she’s an incredibly attractive distraction. She’s just a touch taller than you but she’s got long legs and nice assets, with curves in all the right places. She’s toned too. She dresses nice and smells so good. Has all the flair of an omega that makes your heart race.

Once you get up to her apartment, she wastes no time in getting you into her bedroom.

Kissing someone with the intention of having sex is different than whatever you were doing in highschool. Hira is well practiced in how she touches you, strips you naked, admires you.

She’s aggressive with you but you don’t mind. You end up in her bed faster than you thought you’d be. She kisses with with tongue, teeth nipping at your lips and neck as she whispers to you all sorts of things about likes and dislikes. You learn how to use your mouth and how hard to suck, and smooth your tongue along her scent glands in the ways to turn her on.

You find you don’t mind touching her. You like making her feel good. She gets wet for you and talks to you sweet. Intoxicating, you let her play with you as she pleases without words of complaint. You make her cum once, then again because you like how she grips onto your hair. Her praise is nice when you make her cum. It feels good when she returns the favor even though you feel embarrassed the entire time.

You fuck until sunrise and sleep in her bed. When morning comes, you find her wrapped around your with your body covered in unfamiliar nips of teeth. She tells you to stay for breakfast.

You feel like you walked the stairwell to adulthood a little too quickly. But it’s the longest you spent not thinking about the past

So you stay with her. You sit up and open your phone.

(sent 9:34am) just lost my virginty to my omega senpai. uni is weird

9:35am: You have 24 new notifications.

[ NINETEEN ]

“Do you wanna become club manager?”

You shoot a surprised glance at Satou-kun, one of your only alpha friends on campus and captain of your university soccer team. You’re currently in the club room, reviewing footage of their opposing team before they start training for the inter-collegiate tournaments.

This is a favor you’re doing for Satou-kun as a part of him helping you find board and housing all the way out here. Your current university had been your last choice despite being incredibly prestigious as a result of extra-curricular and exceptionally good marks for years of highschool.

You were supposed to be staying in a dorm room but there was some trouble in the office and no space left in the omega-beta dorms for you to stay at.

You met Satou-kun crying outside of the 7/11 near your campus, dropped down to your knees in pre-heat distress. Satou is from the countryside. A big, lumbering 6’4 alpha who apparently can’t leave people alone in times of need, especially not crying omegas. He bought you a meal and helped you find room and board temporarily before later finding you an apartment near campus.

In short, you owe him a lot. Insistent on paying him back, you’ve spent a lot of time helping out their soccer team doing this and that. Once, off-handedly during their practice, you’d helped one of their other team mates out with their dribbling and have since then become a psuedo-member.

You don’t really have any interest in soccer. Or at least, you didn’t for the first eighteen years of your life. Maybe it’s because you’re so far from home, but there’s something about seeing them play that feels familiar and fulfills an old itch.

Still, you’re not really expecting the offer. You’ve only known Satou-kun for a few months and you’ve known his team for even less.

“Uh. I’ve never been a sports team manager, so I don’t know if I’d be any good.”

“Seriously?” He sits next to you in a chair backwards, pushing his hair back with his hand. “You know a lot about soccer though?”

You swallow. “A friend—sorry, an old friend of mine plays. My nii-san did too but that was way back. I’ve just been around it a lot.”

He gives you a long look, brushing past the very obvious shake in your voice. You like that part of him, you think. “I think it’s fine. The team likes you. You’re meticulous and do well under pressure.” He takes a drink from his water bottle. “Plus I think the guys would be more motivated with a pretty omega manager. At least they’d wanna impress you.”

You blink. He says it so neutrally you almost don’t catch it.

“Thanks?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just an observation,” Satou says, shaking his head. “I think you’d be an asset to the team. There’s no one else who can mediate with coach like you can.”

Your lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. “That’s true,”

Your thoughts end up at Bachira as you consider the offer. Lips furled into a frown, something heavy weighs on your heart. You’ve gotten better at not letting him consume your every waking thought. Being busy has helped. But soccer is the one thing that reminds you of Bachira most. You’re not really opposed to being manager. You just don’t know if it’ll be too much. You’re not enough of a masochistic to say yes without hesitation. The painful, constant reminder of him through being manager just feels overwhelming.

You haven’t seen him in nearly two years, except on T.V. or in the news, doing exactly what you thought he would. You’ve put so much effort into getting over him but it feels like you’ve hardly made progress.

You sigh.

“Can I give you my answer later? After I consider it more?”

“Sure. If it isn’t too invasive though,” He leans into looking closer. “Can I ask what’s making you hesitate? I’d guess it’s that childhood friend but,”

You blink in surprise. “Yeah. That obvious?”

He shakes his head. “Got a nose like a hound, granny always said. Could feel the change even with the strong patches and inhibitors.”

“Ah,” You look down at your lap. “My friend and I had a pretty bad falling out. Think it was two years ago now, but I’m just worried it’ll bring up bad memories.”

“You cared about him a lot, huh?”

You aren’t sure what brings you to say it out loud. “I was in love with him. Basically my whole life.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever said it to anyone. It doesn’t feel as horrible as you expected.

“Was he an omega?”

You give him a humorless smile, shaking your head. “An alpha.”

He blinks in realization before nodding.

“Must’ve been someone special then,” Satou scratches the back of his neck. “I can’t tell you I understand it but you know. Maybe being our manager can help give you some better memories than what you left with. With time.”

“I know it probably sounds ridiculous. Two years is a long time.” You reply back.

“Huh? Hardly.” Satou looks at you directly when he speaks. “Don’t force yourself to get over it. I know you’re the worrying type, but sometimes it’s fine to just let things go as they are.You have to keep living your life right?”

“Right,”

“So don’t think of it in negative terms like getting over it. Do it if it’s something you might want to do. If it gets too much I’ll support you as captain or let you leave. You can make new memories here. It’s an opportunity, that’s all”

You give Satou-kun a small smile. “Satou-kun…you’re a good guy. You’ll find a good wife.”

“You sound like granny,” He says. “If you’re ever interested in becoming farmers wife in the country side, you’re always welcome to take the position up.”

“Are you joking?”

“No.” He says, standing up. His tone is unreadable. “You’d be good at it. You’re strong with good attention to detail so I think the work would be easy for you. Plus you’re after a quiet life, aren’t you?”

“This is a bad proposal,” You deadpan, shaking your head. “And most omegas would be pissed if you told them they look good to work on a farm.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“This is why you’re not popular.” You retort with a small chuckle. “If I ever decide to marry an alpha and give up on everything, I’ll find you. For now, I’ll have to decline the proposal. But I’ll accept becoming manager.”

Satou-kun claps your shoulder. “Eh. I’ll take it,” Your eyes meet. “If you change your mind on either thing, just let me know.”

“Of course. Thanks, captain.”

“Anytime.”

“Are you sure you want this?”

Hira-senpais roomate, Shinohara, busies himself with sterilizing needles. You glance at yourself in the mirror in their bathroom, red-rimmed eyes making you feel pathetic. You really want something to do.

Drink, smoke, something. But you’re not trying to start on using substances when thinking of Bachira since you’re sure it’ll kill you. You just need the distraction. The game is still playing in the background in the other room, so when you hear the channel change and feel thankful to whoever shifted it.

You rub your eyes with the end of your hand, voice hoarse. “Yeah. And I’m gonna get a tattoo.”

“You’re still this hung up on that kid? Whatever his name was,” He snaps his fingers. “Bee boy.”

You huff. “Yeah.”

“Have you tried dating other people?” He suggests.

Shinohara pours rubbing alcohol onto something before wiping your ear with it on both sides. It’s cold and makes you shiver. “No. Never been interested,”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you get interested?” He uses a marker next, placing a dot carefully before assessing it. He repeats the process on the other side. “I mean, if just seeing him on T.V. is enough to do this to you after all this time… You barely react to anything, like a damn stone statue. Yet, here you are.”

“It’s not just that,” You sniffle again. Shinohara-kun gives you a disbelieving look in the mirror, shaking his head. It’s not just the fact you saw Bachira, but that you keep seeing him exceed your expectations. In news magazines, in articles, in ads for sports drinks. What broke you was seeing him on the news after seeing him earlier in a magazine for the greatest talents to come out of Bluelock, with speculation in his potential to become the greatest striker alive.

You’ve done a good job not thinking about him. You even got used to the press when you went to your hometown and saw him plastered on posters. But it dawns on you he’s still living his dreams and he’s not even twenty yet.

And you play no part in them. You bite your lip trying not to cry.

“I’m not piercing you if you keep shaking,” Shinohara says with no real bite. A gloved hand wipes your tear. “So toughen up, brat.”

“Stop calling me that. You’re only a few years older than me,”

“Stop acting like one and I’ll consider. Now take a deep breath. It’s gonna hurt pretty bad, alright? If you jolt I’m gonna kill you.”

“Stop worrying about me.” You sniff, wiping your nose. “I’m fine”

He rolls his eyes. “Then count to three and take a deep breath.”

[ TWENTY ]

“I’m home!”

Your face is cold from the winter air as you step inside. You shake off the snow from your body as you wipe your face, exhaustion settling in from the long travel. It’s not your first winter break home but even after two years you can’t get used to the distance

You leave your bag and luggage at the door as you strip out of your jacket, hanging it on a nearby hook. You sigh in relief, mind drifting off to thoughts of sitting in the kotatsu and warming up while you let your brain rot from television. You only have so many days break before you have to travel back to Sapporo. You glance at the shoe rack and notice a single pair of loafers. Your parents are probably grocery shopping. You always have hotpot the day before New Years.

There’s only one other person that leaves. You raise your voice louder as you call out again.

“Nii-san, I’m home.”

“In the living room,”

You stretch your arms over your head, sweater sliding over your stomach as you walk into the living room to see him spread over the couch watching something on the T.V. Looks like some kind of comedy variety show.

“Hey,”

You make a noncommittal noise, beelining to the kotatsu in the center of the room, sliding yourself underneath with a long sigh. Nii-san laughs behind you.

“Still snowing?”

“Got worse in the last hour,” You prop your elbows on the table, laying on your arms with a loud yawn. “My bags wet so I left it in front of the door.”

He hums as the two of you continue to watch T.V. in comfortable silence. You feel his gaze on your back for a while before turning around slightly to look at him. “What are you looking at?”

“Did you get your ears pierced?”

You blink. “Yeah. My helix and upper lobe on both sides.”

He stares at you for a long while after you tell him, leaving you confused. It’s rare you see your brother these days. He’s twenty-nine this year. He’s scruffy, face prickly with hair and hair grown out longer than normal. Eyes squinted, you feel his hand pull at the collar of your sweater before peering down at your back.

“When did you get a tattoo?”

Surprised, you pull away from his grasp frowning. “Same time I got my piercings.”

“What for?”

“I just wanted to get them,” You say, fidgeting with your.

“Well, it’s fine.” He says after a while, voice softened. His hand comes up to your head, patting it like you’re a kid again. You squirm away from the touch and sudden affection. You don’t know if you’ll ever properly figure out what’s on his mind. “You’re such a goody two-shoes kid a little rebellion won’t hurt. Kaa-san’s gonna freak over the tattoo though.”

“I won’t be here long enough for her to find out I don’t think. And even if she does, it’s not like I can get it removed now. It’s usually covered up enough that no one noticed.”

“I saw it cause of the way you were sitting, so don’t worry about it.” He says, patting your shoulder. “What’s the tattoo of?”

You frown, turning away with a flush. “…A bumble bee on a kuroyuri flower.”

“A bee huh? Should kill that stupid brat.”

“Nii-san!” You shake your head. “I already told you the fight was my fault. Don’t use it as a reason for your grudge, okay?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You’re twenty right?”

You nod. Nii-san grabs a beer from the plastic bag besides him, cracking the top open before handing it to you with a long look. “Here,”

You take the beer from his hand and take a drink from the top, malt hitting your lips and warming you up from the inside. “…Thanks.”

“If you’re gonna go out of your way to defend him even now, just text him and make up already,”He says, shaking his head. “The piercings, the tattoo… all that was to get over him, huh?”

You feel embarrassed. Was it that obvious you were hung up on Bachira this way? He always had a weird sixth sense about things, so maybe not. “It doesn’t matter.”

He sighs. “It does matter. If you care this much, there’s no way it doesn’t. Don’t be obstinate and figure things out with him.”

“Even if I could do that,” Which I can’t, ever. “He’s rarely home anyways, and I don’t want to have that conversation on the phone. Plus, he’s probably forgotten all about it.”

“You’re a smart kid but sometimes you’re so oblivious it makes me feel bad. Was it because you’re sheltered? You have no common sense.”

“Hey!”

“I know you’re just being careful but there’s no need to this extent. You two were attached at the hip for almost two decades. There’s no way he’d forget even if he’s a famous soccer player right now. Just make up with him.” He says, then sighs before giving you a serious look. “But seriously don’t marry him. I’ll kill you both.”

“I told you he likes alphas.”

“And you like him, despite liking omegas, right?”

You make a noise of indignance “That’s different,”

“It’s not. I don’t care about him but don’t be a coward. You’re a lot tougher than that as is and it doesn’t suit you at all.”

You turn your eyes to the T.V. pretending to watch it while deep in thought.

You don’t know. It’s been three years since you and Bachira stopped being friends but the wound doesn’t feel any more healed than it did last time. There are longer stretches of time in between that you can without feeling like the world is collapsing underneath you, but you’re not over it despite your best efforts. Maybe it’s true you haven’t truly tried hard enogh. Your last conversation was messy at best, a rushed outro to a life long friendship without any real closure.

But you don’t think you’re owed closure. What’s more, you don’t even know what you’d say. There’s both so much and so little you want to tell him.

I’m proud of you. I’m sorry. Who takes care of you now that I’m gone? Do you miss me as much as I miss you?

But how do you have that conversation? You’ve never been good at being upfront with your feelings. You keep to yourself, keep your head down, and get lucky to be around people who do it for you.

Even if you were to get closure now, could you handle it? You were never under the impression Bachira could love you, but at least now you can be open about it. At least now, you can tell people when they ask you about love and confess it like some sort of sin. The first time you told Satou-kun that truth, it felt like a weight had finally been unburdened. To become friends again now would mean you bear that silence of that again while you try to fall out of love, or you confess to it him and make things hard on you both.

You don’t want either outcome. You just want Bachira to be your friend. And you want things to be easy. You’re not seventeen anymore. You have school, work, clubs - things that you still need to be present for.

You can’t handle the heartbreak of that loss twice. It’d kill you.

Maybe, someday, when you’re really over it - you’ll reach out to Bachira as friends. Another two years so it’s been at least five, and you’re closer to graduation than you are to highschool.

For now though, the idea of seeing Bachira again is painful at best and stupid at worst.

“I need more time,” You reply after a while. “To get over it more. I don’t want to meet him when I’m still this… emotional about it.”

Nii-san sighs, over you. “Fine. If you say so. Drink your little heart out over it but when the time comes, dont’ miss your chance alright? Promise me.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“You little—just promise.”

“Fine, fine,” You fall forward again on your kotatsu - waving a dismissive hand. “Promise.”

“I can’t believe my favorite heat partner went and got a boyfriend on me,”

Hira-senpai slides herself across from you in the booth in front of you. You glance up from your laptop just barely too greet her as Shinohara joins the both of you. Shaking your head, you take stock of your surroundings quickly. The cafeteria at the bottom floor of the mathematics building is still just as empty as it was when you came in.

“Where did you two just back from?”

“A seminar thing for senior capstone.” Shinohara answers. You make a short ahhh sound before continuing on with your typing.

“Don’t just ignore me, both of you!” Hira insists. Your lips quirk up at the corners.

“Stop announcing that we have sex so loudly and I’ll consider it.”

“Fine, fine. I just can’t believe you got confessed too and you said yes! And you only told me through text!!”

“What was I supposed to do? You weren’t even on campus so I couldn’t tell you in person.”

She pouts, dipping a fry into ketchup as she props her elbows up on the table.

“Whatever. I want details!”

“It was that huge omega guy on the soccer team, right? What was his name again…?”

You furrow your brow. “How do you know that?”

“I know everything.” He says seriously. You roll your eyes.

“Yeah it was. Takahashi-kun. He confessed to me as soon as I got back from visiting home over winter break in the club room. Gave me flowers and everything.”

“Flowers? What a serious guy. Are all the soccer club guys like that?”

You grimace. “I think all soccer players are predispositioned to have something just a little wrong with them. Him being chivalrous is fine, all things considered.”

“Hm. True.”

“Sooo, did you just say yes right away? That’s super unlike you!”

“Huh? No, of course not. I told him upfront that I’m still getting over someone so I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” You say, typing away at your computer. “But he said he didn’t care and wanted to date me anyways.”

“What a weird guy.” Shinohara hums thoughtfully.

“He’s that into you?!”

You nod. “I guess so. I asked why it had to be me and he said something I didn’t catch. Just that he thought I’d be a good partner and accept an omega like him. Which I guess is true.”

Shinohara chuckles. “You sound so enthused.”

You shrug. “It’s not like I lied. He’s a good guy, I know that. And I mean. Not like I have anything to lose. You guys are the ones telling me to try and move on.”

They both say “True,” at the same time, making you shake your head.

“So you’re gonna date him seriously?”

“I’m gonna try,” You reply with a long sigh. “I really just want to move on.”

You date Takahashi-kun for a year.

It’s a good year, and a good relationship.

He’s good to you in all ways that matter. He still believes in old timey traditional of courting and courts you like an omega might an alpha despite you not being one. Brings you food he’s made and other handmade ornaments. He’s taller than most omega men. A little over six feet and muscular with a sharp jaw but the roundest, brownest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Often, he asks you if you’re fine with him. Comes into your arms and weeps into your neck, scent sweet like fresh cream as he apologizes for not being cute. Takahashi is more omega than you are. Shows submission and pleasure in the textbook ways you see only in books and pornography. He’s kind and doe-eyed and timid. He’s easy to talk to. He’s attractive. Sharing heat together always feels pleasurable and warm.

Alphas like him. Mostly alpha women. And you like Takahashi too, while you date him. He’s tender and thoughtful - easy to read and easy to treat well. The relationship is never something worthy of complaint.

Which is why you break up with him before you leave for winter break the next year. You explain it all to him and feel incredibly disheartened when he cries. Takahashi is the poster image for what makes a good omega. And because he is so good, so kind, so caring - it’s unfair to continue to be with him when you know you can’t grow to love him the way he loves you.

If a year in your ideal theoretical relationship can’t be enough to cauterize the wound of your heartbreak, there’s probably nothing else that will except time. Even hysterical, you relay all of this to Takahashi as best you can. You don’t regret being with him, because he’s taught you plenty of things.

It’s because he’s taught you so much that you’re able to break up with him at all instead of remaining comfortable and impassive. Because you know the depth of another persons unconditional love and because you also grow to love Takahashi. You love him in a different way than he loves you, and you leave because it’s unfair. It’s the first year of your life that has felt long and meaningful since you and Bachira parted ways four years prior.

So you split with him, and tell him everything on your mind. And because Takahashi is a good person who loves you unconditionally - it hurts you both, even though he accepts. He asks that if someday, you think you might change your mind to call him. He asks to be friends.

You promise to him both, and then tell him again that you hope someone better will be there for him and that you love him even if it’s not like that.

The day you break up with Takahashi, you have to take a train ride three hours long to get to the airport where you’ll board a short flight, then make the hours long venture back to your hometown.

You’re fine for the duration. You don’t cry often anyway. It’s fine until your phone buzzes with the notification that F.C. Barcha has won a tournament match and will proceed to the next World Cup Qualifiers.

And then, like clockwork, you sob into your hands on an empty train - heart so full of longing you could nearly throw up.

You think, breaking up with Takahashi-kun was the right choice.

You think, I miss him.

You heart doesn’t name who exactly you miss. That name is written all over it anyways.

[ TWENTY-ONE ]

For the first few days of your winter break, none of your family is in your house for you to hang around.

This is something you’ve always been used to. Your parents have been on a trip in Kyoto and won’t be back until after new years and nii-san is working a lot of overtime until about the same. You have a copy of your house keys so you have a place to stay, and you’ve made some shrine plans with Miki and Sasaki since you’re back home.

They’re both still busy until the thirtieth though, so until then you have nothing to do.

Today is the twenty-sixth, the day after Christmas. You’re home early since all of your classes finals lined up in the short-span of three days. It was stressful but you’re thankful for the extended few days that allowed you to go home early.

Yu-san has insisted you spend some time with her instead of being by yourself. You always spend a day or two at her house during your winter breaks and have since you left for college. After your eighteenth birthday, it just felt like the right thing to do.

You bring her something every year when you visit, and sometimes you stay over night. She treats you like her own, and fills you in about Bachira from time to time.

In honor of upholding tradition, you decide to go see her a little early this year. Before you enter the familiar and cramped space of Yu-sans apartment - you always buy her a nice bouquet of flowers, a box of sweets, and an expensive bottle of sake. You have a gift for her too, some souvenirs from Hokkaido like always.

You stop by your house first to drop off your things and lock up before walking the short distance to your childhood friends home in the winter air.

You’ve been too often to knock after all, instead opting to text Yu-san and let her know that you’re there. You wait outside until she responds, giving you the go-ahead.

yu oba-san (sent 9:57pm): the door is open but i had to step out for a bit. make yourself comfortable.

You gather your things up in one hand and tucking the flowers carefully in your arms to open the door. Your bag of gifts and drinks lands on the floor with a soft clunk as you set it down besides you, balancing flowers on the small cabinet near the entryway. Sliding your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it, you force your feet out of your winter boots, eyes searching around for the right pair of slippers.

When you go to put your boots up on the shoe rack, you notice that there’s an unfamiliar pair of sneakers. You notice it too late. Mens sneakers.

A faint scent of burnt honey.

You shake your head trying to shake the thoughts away. The likelihood of it being Bachira is so slim you wonder why you’re considering. The match for F.C. Barcha took place in Spain. It takes a day of travel to get to Japan, so you guess it’s possible. Even so, you think it’d be more likely he comes during New Years. It’s not guaranteed he’ll have enough time to even come home every year. He did two years back from what you know but not since then.

You gather your things again. First the small bag you keep your personal stuff in, then the bags you’ve brought for Yu-san, and finally the flowers in your arm.

You decide against announcing yourself since you suspect you’re the only there.

Except you’re not.

The whole world feels like it’s collapsing underneath your feet to see Bachira in flesh, tucked into the couch of his childhood home the same way he used to when you were kids - with both legs folded up and his chin resting on his knee.

A shock of yellow hair, eyes gemstone gold and a stronger scent. Bachira. Meguru.

You startle and think of what to do. What excuse you can make. How you can tiptoe your way out of the room and catch the breath that he steals away from your lungs.

No such luck. Bachira is perceptive as always, noticing you before you get a chance to slip away.

“Oh,” He murmurs. He’s taller. Just a bit, you think. “It’s you,”

Your heart is thudding, blood rushing to your ears and face as you stare at him. You can barely feel your legs, weakness in your knees nearly making you buckle. Frozen stiff in place, you blink once, twice before nodding. You force yourself to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Uhm,” You don’t know what to do. “Yeah. I came to visit Yu-san.”

He nods back.

“She told me I should come over as soon as I can.” Bachira says. He feels unfamiliar. His hair is longer, but styled up and his ear lobes are pierced. He looks so much older yet so much the same. “My team mate dropped me off with his jet so I made it in a day.”

Ah. Was it planned? She’s like your nii-san in how much she wants you two to reconcile. “Makes sense.” You flounder. Awkward silence falls so you try to come up with anything to say. Your hands are sweaty. “ Uh..Congratulations on your win, by the way.”

He looks surprised. “Do you keep up with soccer these days?”

Just for you. “A bit. Out of habit, I guess. And I’m the soccer teams manager at uni.”

Surprised, he blinks in silence for a while.

“Oh. Well,” Suddenly, he beams. It’s no doubt forced and it breaks you into a thousand pieces though you try not to let it show on your face. Try not to let the omega part of you whimpering for approval too obvious. He smiles at you “Don’t be a stranger on my behalf! You should put your stuff down and sit. We should uhm..catch up!”

You make a face at him that you know is pained, but nod anyways. The tension in the air is so thick as you slide to the other side of the room, putting the flowers and other gifts on the kitchen counter.

Four years. Four years. How are you supposed to act?

“Uh,” You call from the kitchen, hoping the nerves in your voice aren’t obvious. “Do you uhm, maybe want something to drink? I brought alcohol and I think there’s beers in your fridge.”’

Your eyes meet from the living room to where you stand behind the counter. He shrugs, giving you a lighthearted smile.

“Mm. My nutritionist might get pissed but whatever! Why not you know? A beer would be good, thanks!”

You nod and try to do the same - keeping the conversation as light as you can. You repeat that it’s fine like a mantra.

“Is beer not too bitter for you? I bought chuhai cans. There’s a pineapple flavor,”

The question is innocent enough to you, but you realize seconds later the intimacy of it. Four years or not, you were Bachira’s friend your entire life so it’d be weirder not to know and even weirder not to at least ask. It’s an extension of courtesy no matter how unnecessary, and plus - you’re known for being a little too obsessed with the details. Bachira prefers sweet things and likes canned pineapple. You’re sure you picked it up out of habit.

When you look up at Bachira, he looks nearly ready to cry. It startles you so much you jolt out of your skin. He turns away. “Haha…You remembered,”

A pang of concern makes leaves you standing in place. There’s no way you would’ve forgotten. “Oh uhm. Sorry. Is that weird for you?” You explain, trying not to overstep any boundaries. “If me being too familiar is making you uncomfortable then—“

“It’s not that,” He insists seriously. “I was trying to keep it together but I can’t after that,” He lets out a loud sob suddenly. Your eyes widen. Several waves of emotion pass over you at the same time. “I missed you…hicc, why would you remember that…sniff,”

You soften, shoulder slumped with endured longing.

“I missed you too,”

“Liar,” He hiccups again, crying in full hysterics this time. You shuffle back to the living room to join him on the opposite side of the couch, placing the bag of drinks on the coffee table and reaching a hand over to squeeze his knee. “You haven’t talked to me in four years. You didn’t miss me at all but you remember something so dumb. You’re always like that. You’re so….”

You frown. Does he really think you didn’t miss him?

“It wasn’t like that,”

“Then explain it to me now! Hasn’t it been long enough…dont you…!” He exclaims, pulling his hands from his face. You can’t contain your surprise about the reaction though you understand it completely. You feel similar. You’ve convinced yourself the entire time that any relationship you had with each other was completely one-sided. Assuming he would move on fine without you now that there were people in his life he could call friends. Still, it’s so unusual to see evidence of it not being true. “You never explained anything to me you just..” He sniffs “Left me. I thought you didn’t care anymore but…”

His display of genuine sadness makes you feel horrible.

You press your lips together in a thin line, reaching into the bag for a tall can of beer and cracking it open before having a drink so it numbs your nerves.

Your stomach is twisted up in a knot so tight you kind of feel sick. There’s no way around the conversation now. You can’t bear to see him cry so much, so you should at least clear up the understanding.

Leaned forward, elbows on knees - you keep your eyes focused in front of you, keenly aware of Bachira adjacent to you on the couch wiping his eyes.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t miss you, I just uh,” You swallow a lump in your throat until it smooths out. “I just have stuff I want to get over before we could be proper friends again. I wanted to reach out to you a lot. It wasn’t like I stopped caring about you after we fought,”

“You hated me for lying to you and being an alpha right? Wasn’t that what you had to get over in the first place?”

Your eyes go wide. “No, uh. It’s complicated. I didn’t uhm, hate you for lying about it. I was shocked sure but you are—were my best friend. I did distrust alphas for a long time and I still don’t really like them… but it didn’t matter to me. I told you then too but I didn’t hate you it was just,”

You chuckle nervously, running your thumb on the rim of the can. “It felt wrong to keep being your friend. Not knowing something so basic. The fact you felt like you couldn’t tell me. It was more like I was too ashamed to keep calling you my best friend.

“You… Really?”

You nod. “And uh, I didn’t want to reach out to you again until i got over some personal stuff.”

“You big dummy,” He wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve. “It wasn’t like that at all…. Even back then, I knew you wouldn’t have hated me just for being an alpha,” He hiccups another sob. “I was just so scared you would that I didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would start treating me different and we’d stop being close if you found out I wasn’t an omega. You’re such a good person, how come you think of yourself like that? Why do you think…hicc”

“Sorry,” You mumble, unsure of what to say.

It feels like a great weight has been lifted up off your chest.

“Stop apologizing, dummy. Stupid.”

You give him a wobbly smile.

“What did you have to get over that you couldn’t talk to me for four years?” He huffs. “If it wasn’t me being an alpha, what was it?”

Your eyes widen, heart rate picking up so rapidly you can only pray he doesn’t hear it. You swallow spit, teeth sinking into your cheek. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

You’ve thought about this conversation before hundreds of times. Often. How it would go, what you would say if you ever got the chance to say it. But having the opportunity to confess right in front you makes it all feel hundreds of miles away.

Your mind has filled in the details each time with it going so badly. Bachira’s face, disgusted with you or otherwise unsettled always sears itself in your psyche so strong you bite your tongue. You always found him a little unsettled by you in you thoughts. Disgusted with you for liking him so much even knowing he’s not into omegas. You don’t want your own cowardice or misunderstanding to get in the way of being honest with him after so long.

You would’ve waited two more years to even speak to him had you been given a choice. But now with him in front of you, how could you possibly do that? It’s the universes way of ripping the band-aid off, you think. Such a tricky outcome can only being ordained by faith.

“Well, I uhm, I was—am, in love with with you. Since we were kids so uhm, after we split ways I couldn’t really apologize. I w-wanted to get along with you again for a long time but I couldn’t…” You shake your head, refusing to see his expression. Terrified that what you’ll see is disappointment. “I wanted to sort my feelings out first so I could approach you honestly, I guess. I k-know you like alphas, so I’m not expecting anything really! I just wanted t-to ease the burden on myself a bit instead of hiding.”

There’s a long, long stretch of silence. It feels like forever.

“You’re in love with me? But you like omegas don’t you?”

“Not exclusively I guess? I h-haven’t figured it out yet. I’ve never been with another alpha but my feelings for you are real. I know it’s burdensome to hear that but—”

“It’s not burdensome,” He cuts you off instantly. Your eyes widen slightly. His expression has completely changed. “Are you being serious? You’re in love with me? Since we were kids? Even after finding out I’m an alpha?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. That was also part of the reason. Learning you were an alpha brought up questions. Uhm. Anyways. It’s been four years and I still can’t get over it so I didn’t want to put myself through that again. I hope it’ll make you believe that I don’t hate you at least,”

“You still love me, then.” He says softly. “Right?”

You flush, wondering why he’s asking. “Yeah. Same as always.”

He covers his face with his hands, suddenly grinning. Your eyes grow wide at that openly. “Aaaah!! I’m so happy I could die right now.”

“Bachira?”

“You big dummy. You should’ve told me before. How come you’re the only one in the entire world who didn’t know?”

“S-sorry?”

For the first time in this entire conversation, you let yourself look at Bachira who’s positively beaming at you. You blink rapidly, feeling suddenly deeply unsure of yourself and your surroundings.

“I love you too, stupid,” He says, sniffling. “Since we were practically babies.” He sniffles again, more tears streaming down his face. “Uwah, I can’t stop crying, I’m so happy.”

“But you…don’t you also like…?”

“Alphas? Yeah I do,” Bachira hums happily. “I’ve never been with an omega. And I’m not really that interested in them, either. I’m clingy you know? And selfish. You were the exception. My one and only omega.”

You cover your face with your hands.

“What’s wrong?” Bachira asks.

You laugh. “I’m so happy I think I could die.” You mimic. Tears wet your lashes with unusual swiftness. “I never thought in a million years you would ever like me back. It wasn’t even a possibility for me.”

It feels completely surreal. You want to pinch yourself. If it’s a dream, you want to thank whatever power is responsible for making it such a pleasant one and you never want to wake up from it. He…Bachira loves you. The way you love him. It feels so impossible. Your mind can’t catch up, leaving you slack jawed.

“Me too,” He hums lovingly. “Ahh, I don’t know if I should cry or shout.”

“You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

His grin is crooked. “Then you should do something to keep me quiet,”

Your face grows hot at the sudden implication. You’re not a virgin but the idea is immediately too stimulating for you to act normally. “What’s with that…”

“You’re acting like you’ve never kissed anyone before.” He teases. You shoot him a sharp look.

Your eyes go down at your lap. “Don’t tease me. I want too, I just don’t know if I can,”

You feel Bachira move over to you. He sits himself besides you on the couch, tucking himself against your side and moving himself to look at your face where you’re ducked down. You can feel the tingling in your skin at the proximity. Overbearing alpha scent that feels like a tight hug only because it’s Bachira.

“How can I not tease you when you’re being so cute, hm?” He hums. He’s so close to you. “You normally don’t react to anything but then you behave timid like this. It’s so cute. Don’t act shy and kiss me already. Or at least let me kiss you,”

“Bachira…” You murmur, trying not to explode.

“Ehhh?? That’s not my name.”

You laugh a little, picking your head up. “Meguru,”

“Better!”

You laugh again, helplessly happy. There’s no word in any language tantamount to what you feel - this much you’re sure of. Embarrassment doesn’t subside quickly but seeing Bachira in front of you makes you happy enough to try look forward. He looks older, somehow. His smile is familiarly boyish, sharpened teeth and piercing eyes even stronger than before.

Pointed, predatory - lidded eyes meet yours. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, unable to form words to say yes but wanting it so terribly.

The second kiss you ever share with Bachira in your life is exactly like him. Overwhelming. A hard press of lips followed by his tongue sliding across the soft seam of your mouth, coaxing you open until he can slip his tongue in. Immediately salacious and hot, the kind of kiss you can only have in total privacy. The intentions of it are obvious. Your body singes at the feeling, immediately burdened with the weight of life-longing wantings as you kiss him. Deep and melty, your hands reaching for his waist body urging you to pull him closer.

You feel something tingling at the base of your spine as Bachira slides his tongue against yours hotly. Wet muscle tracing your mouth, drawing lines over every inch like he’s trying to devour you whole from the inside.

The scent of him drives you insane. He’s so close. It’s suffocating - rich, homey burnt honey and amber with something spiced clouding your mind as you breathe him through hot panting breaths and kisses and kisses. Wetness grows between your legs, the skin under your clothes starting to itch.

You’ve had years now to understand your heat. You know exactly when it’s coming, when it starts and how it feels. You’re not due for another few weeks but you know what your body is experiencing like the back of your hand. Bachira won’t stop kissing you long enough to let you warn him, tongue busy lapping at your lips. He swallows the little noises you make. You put your hands on his shoulders as you push him away, chest heaving through unbearably labored breaths.

A whimper in your subconscious - animal in nature, whines at you indignant. Inner omega burdened with desire and overwhelmingly craving the alpha so readily available. Estrus symptoms rush you strongly as your eyes droop, pressing your legs together hard so no slick makes a mess on the couch.

“Meguru,” You breathe out, barely. “My heat.”

“Was it soon?”

You shake your head. “I t-think you triggered it,” You huff, keeping your hand on his shoulder and wincing at the way your body keens.

His eyes fill with excitement. “Are you saying you wanted me so bad I made your heat come early?”

“Don’t say it so..haah… blatantly.”

He shivers, scent and pheromones releasing even stronger than before. You gasp, nails digging into his shoulder as he overwhelms you. He leans in close to you, teeth nipping at your jaw - fangs dragging feather light on your scent glands.

“It doesn’t seem like you want to stop you know?” He murmurs the words against your neck, eliciting a low whine.

“Yu-san is supposed to be coming back.”

“She won’t for a while. It’s already this late, I bet she’s doing something else,”

“You don’t know that though,” You reason. He hums happily, nonplussed about all of it.

“Are you worried she’ll walk in? I can always fuck you upstairs. In my old room. She won’t catch us if you’re quiet,” His voice has a rasp to you you’ve never heard before. It’s usually smooth and upbeat, but there’s grit to it now that has you buckling at the knees. “I’m your alpha right? I should take care of you.”

“Who said you were my…?”

He gives you a serious look before you can get the rest of the words out. “Do you really think I’d let you be with somebody other than me now that I know? Don’t you think that’s silly?”

The predatory hunger in his gaze makes your breath catch. A gazelle in the maw of a lion, you wonder if all prey animals tremble violently when they at risk of being eaten. There’s such a thing as survival instinct, but there are abnormalities and exceptions. Bachira bears his fangs you, a blatant claim of his possession - teeth nearly drawing blood on the thin skin of your neck and you think to yourself you want him to eat you. To split you apart and lick you up down to bone, until your vision clouds with nothing but the sight of his hunger.

You want it so much you gasp, a bolt of lightning crackling through each of your veins. You shake your head obedient to your own want.

“My alpha,” You try the words out, heaven on your tongue. A claim. “My Meguru,”

“Yours forever. Always yours,” He hums, contented with the show of submission. “Oh, baby. I’ll take such good care of you know? Knot you nice and pretty. You’ll like I promise. Even alphas like taking my knot,” His hand slides under neath your sweater, slides just between the edge of your stockings and your bare skin. “But you’re an omega—my omega, and you’re perfect so you’ll love it won’t you?”

You feel drunk on the euphoria. Lust, lovesickness, lenience, all of them make you want to melt entirely. It’s so unlike you. During other heats with other people, you always managed to anchor yourself somehow. You want to blame it on your biology.

You’re hardwired to want this in some ways.

But now you’re old enough to know there’s more to it. More to why his touch is safe. What’s etched into your bones is Bachira’s name only. Only him. His knot, his alpha instinct, his fangs - they’re what transforms you into something beyond yourself. You want the alpha in Bachira, want him to sink his teeth into softness you’ve always kept inside of him only.

“Want you,” You confess between bitten lips “Meguru, want you so bad,”

Nothing in your life has ever been so true. No words you’ve spoken have bore as much weight as that admittance. Bachira licks onto your mouth without subtlety, fangs sinking into the plush of your bottom lip with lustblown out in eyes.

“Come on, then baby.” He tempts. “Let me give you whatever you want, mmkay?”

Your agreement comes out more like a whine than a firm yes. Bachira laces his fingers together with yours in the way he used to when you were kids walking across the road. You can barely feel your legs as you hurry up the stairs, worn but loved photos of childhood life and home. There’s pinned up medals and photos and each step you climb makes your heart race a little faster.

It dawns on you too late that Bachira is the love of your life. Your omega pines for it, longs for the intimacy of it. Alpha, alpha, alpha - Meguru. A hymn etched into your heart.

He tugs you into his room and locks it quick, groping desperately for the lights before pinning you up against the door in one swift motion. You feel your back against the wood as his hands move all over you. He squeezes the soft curve of your hips, nails dragging light against your stockings as he hitches your leg up kissing you more. Sloppier, messier - breathlessly chasing your lips and never pulling away. Always running after you when you stop to breathe like he’s destined to be your only source of oxygen. You claw at him, your eyes fluttering shut, rolling your up against him as slick wets the inside of your tights.

It’s embarrassing how wet you really are. It’s never been so bad So blatant. He laughs a little, the hard press of his cock against your core making you sputter. Giggly as he feels it, hand squeezing your knee tight where he holds you up.

“So wet,” He murmurs against your mouth. “You’re so wet baby. It’s making a mess you know? You’re not usually this messy are you? You’re not one for bad manners.”

You whine against his lips. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Stupid. I’m praising you,” He replies. “Praising your perfect pussy the way it deserves. Always giving so much to me. Don’t you think it’s mean if I don’t give back just a little?”

“Touch me,” You beg slowly losing your sense of shame. “Knot me. Fuck me. Wanna bond with you.” You sniffle, overwhelmed as you plant your face against his neck “Wanna be with you forever,”

A low growl slips from his throat, makes you so weak you could break with the slightest touch. “Don’t say that lightly.”

You claw at your sobriety. Overtaken with emotions or not, the desire to bonded—mated isn’t a suggestion from thin air. You want proof of him in your life forever, the shape of his teeth in your neck. It’s been so fucking long. You’ve pined for him for nearly your entire life. Clutching onto him is the only thing you can think to do.

Pulling away, you search desperately for your reflection in his eyes, trying to show your utter sincerity.

“I’m not,” You say with as much conviction as you can. Embarrassment makes your face hot. “I know I’m in heat but I…” Your lip trembles. “I’ve thought about it. I won’t regret. aI want you so much, Meguru. Bond with me.”

He whines. “You’re so unfair. You can’t just say that and expect me to be fine. You don’t know how bad I want it. Want you. For so long.”

“You have me,” You whisper, trying not to look away. “It’s hard for me to say stuff like that, alright? So if you get it bond with me.”

“You’re so fucking cute.” He praises. “Of course I will. How can I say no when you ask me like that? So pretty, so,” He takes a deep breath. “So sweet. So perfect.”

Your lungs expand with a breath. “Meguru,”

“Wore something so cute only to get it all messy,” He hums. His hands pulling up on your sweater. “Who got this for you?”

“Uni friends,” You mumble, heart picking up speed. Bachira draws the long sweater up on your form, sliding it up over your ass and waist. It’s shaded enough that the large wet spot isn’t obvious. His hands grip your ass, moan slipping from his mouth in appreciation for the touch. “T-they told me it’s in style.”

He tugs the sweater off of your body and tosses it somewhere on the floor, leaving you mostly naked aside from your underwear. You paw at his shirt making he laughs warmly.

“Wanna get me naked so bad?”

Yes. You feel ashamed thinking about how much you wanna feel his skin. Bachira is all sinewy muscle under his clothes. He’s grown a little over the last four years, even though you used to be the same height. It’s a touch of it everywhere, broader shoulders and deeper musculature, a physique carved from so much training. The muscles of his torso make you swallow thickly, the promise of dark hair trailing from his stomach at the top of his pants.

“You’re staring so much. I’ll get embarrassed.”

You find your hands smoothing up his chest and feel aroused about how good it looks. Weird gratitude settles over you seeing your manicured nails on Bachira’s strong chest. Too pretty for an alpha, but sharp enough that you believe it. The thought of the two of you together sends you reeling with thoughts. You’ve always wanted it. Always wanted him.

He only lets you admire him for so long. His hands go around to your back, unclasping your bra in one go. You let him take it off you - self-conscious in how he zeros in on your chest. Nipples hardening in arousal, his hands cup them and squeeze. The rough feeling and grip of his palms makes you gasp - harsh in the way you can only imagine someone who fucks alphas can be. Keening, you watching Bachira lean back in to kiss you briefly before leaving hot, wet kisses down your neck and chest.

Before he gets any further, he drags you along to his bed. Manhandling you until you’re laying on your back on his sheets, he climbs over you with appreciation. His eyes trace your body before landing at your core, sopping wet from heat-addled arousal. You cover your face with your hands.

Wordless, he grabs your tights and pulls them down from your body hard.

There it becomes obvious, your wetness. Humiliation blooms in the pit of your gut as Bachira sits between your legs, pulling your them apart at the knee with complete and utter fascination. You’re wearing light colored panties - plain with silly patterns, pale yellow. Your arousal is no doubt visible, soaking beyond just the inset of your panties but the entire thing. Slick runs down your thighs, down your ass. It’s egregious, excess appropriately reflective of how you ache. Your body is wholly for a knot with how much of it there is.

The longer Bachira stares, the more it pulses and throbs under his vision. You feel soaked from the waist down. “Is it always so wet…?”

“It’s not… usually this bad.” You admit. Bachira growls something deep in his chest.

Before you can protest, he rolls soaked underwear off you in one go and leaves you completely bare.

He’s imposing, stood on his knees over you - nearly in a trance. Bachira pulls you up by your waist, his thigh supporting your spine as he folds you up until your legs are in the air - bending down until your cunt is directly in front of his face. You gasp seeing his face between your legs. Both of his arms are secured around your thighs as he takes a sharp inhale. Slick drips down towards your belly because of the way you’re angled and bent. It’s humiliating seeing your legs overhead. He presses his cheek against slicked-soaked inner thighs.

Holding you still like that, back off the bed nearly folded in half with only his own body to support you - he dives face deep into your cunt without a second of forewarning. Your whole being lurches at the sensation, the lacking of build-up going straight to your tender core.

Bachira laps at your cunt like he’s starving for it. There’s no technique, nothing but sheer animalistic hunger as his tongue dives furiously into your sex - nose bumping and brushing your clit with each wet, forceful slide of his tongue, swallowing down as much of your slick with each go. You feel your body go weak, lightheaded at being held and ate so viciously. Arousal comes in waves until finds a pace for himself with little word of instruction other than desperate keening and vague asks for more. Your eyes are closed as tension draws in your stomach. His mouth finds your clit, sucking gently and letting the flat plane of his tongue smoth on the sensitive bundle of nerves over and over - sucking carefully.

His face is red when you open your eyes to look at him slurp your pussy, slick up and into his throat as if its a life force. Your eyes lock and you whimper at how he smiles into your pussy, keeping rhythm. He hums against you as the feeling builds and builds and builds. Heat makes you lightheaded, your thighs trembling, feet pointed with your toes curling as you reach the inevitable end of your first orgasm. His arms are securing holding you and taking the weight off of your spine - both of them holding you tight. You see the veins flex in his forearms as he grips you. Something about it sends you careening off the edge.

The first orgasm Bachira gives you happens like that. He makes you cum with your spine halfway up in the air, tension in your body going so tight before releasing all at once. Orgasm makes you crashland. You cum so hard, you’re blindsided. Tugging as from his grip, your thighs squish his face as you squirm, all the muscles in your lower body tremoring from release.

“M-meguru, can’tcan’tcan’t,” You feel his mouth follow you through orgasm in what reverence. His tongue dips inbetween your folds, the only mercy you receive.

All at once, he lets you down gently until your laid limp in his bed. His face is covered in slick and drool as you lay there gasping and twitching erratically in the aftermath of your first induced heat orgasm. You stare at him, dazed as he wipes his face with his hands then licks them clean.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” He mumbles, awestruck. His hand comes down next to your head, nothing but pure adoration in his vision - fangs bared. The yellow gold of his eyes pins you to his bed. “I can’t get enough of you. Didn’t know anything could taste that good.”

He presses his mouth to yours in a way that’s almost violent, holding your jaw so you can taste yourself on his tongue. When he’s pleased, he kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek and all over your face. You can’t think of a single coherent string of thoughts, even after your first orgasm.

Like a livewire, every place Bachira touches, lingers for minutes. Just his name, just his knot - the only things your brain can make space for so aroused.

“Did I already fuck you stupid?” He asks, breathless laugh on his lips. “Aw, baby - we just got started you know? You can’t tap out so early,” He pats your thigh with sticky hand making you yelp and waking you up form your haze. “How can I make you my mate without your full attention, hm?”

You blink at him, tears at your lashes at his face. Your heart feels strange, so relieved, so pleasant, you think you could die. The smallest, soberest part of you is happy to be with Bachira but your instinct is practically clawing at your chest begging for more.

“Meguru,” You want to burst into tears but settle for soft sniffles. “Meguru, I love you. Love you, love you so much. I love you.”

“Ehh? Why’re you crying dummy?” His voice is tender, so thoughtful. Bachira is so selfish while being so loyal at the same time it makes your heart sing. “I love you too, so so much. Are you crying ‘cause it felt good?”

He leans into your space, letting your arms wrap around his neck with a sniffle. “It felt so good it was scary,”

He smiles at you - beaming. You want to hold onto him forever. Your soul has never ached so much for another person in your entire life, You press onto him tight, chest squeezing against his as you pull him in for a hug.

He laughs then, squeezing you in his arms before rolling around in the bed. The innocence of the gesture brings a quiet giggle to your lips as Bachira presses kisses all over you. Soft pecks on your shoulder, on your nape, at the crown of your head. “Wanna look at me this time, hm? Would it make you feel better?”

You nod in his arms and he smiles at you again, so sweet. He’s different. His egoism is so present, so there - selfishness carving him into the man he is now. Bachira does as he pleases with you, but gives you these little mercy’s admits his ruthlessness that make you want to fold under his touch.

He lays on his back and drags you along with him. You’re laid ontop of him, chest to chest - and he keeps you like that before gazing into your eyes so adoringly, you urge to look away. He holds your gaze, not intending to let you.

“You’re staring too much.” You murmur.

“I can’t look at you even though you’re so pretty? Unfair.” He says back just as fast.

“You say embarrassing stuff so easily…”

He smiles at you. “Because I mean it, dummy. There’s no one prettier than you,”

“That’s not,” Your breath catches as you feel his hands grab your ass, pressing your face to his neck, scent glands next to your nose. “…ngh, it’s not..”

“Don’t say it’s not true or I’ll get angry,” His voice is sing-songy as he gropes you with both hands, content to feel you as you rub your body against his desperately craving more touch. You want to be in his skin. “You’re prettiest to me.”

“Meguru,” You whimper. “Meguru,”

“Begging for my knot with such a sweet voice. How deceiving.” The contrast in the tone of his voice versus his touch makes you long for him. “Do you want my cock so bad already?”

You frown feeling bashful as you nod.

“Ah, but you’ve never had a knot in here before have you? Not a real one,” He hums, voice thick with amusement. “So I have to open you up nice till you’re nice and soft on my fingers mmkay? Here, turn this way.”

Bachira lays you on your side, letting you adjust so your arm can slide under him comfortable. He lays facing you, pulling you towards him until your legs slot together - one of your legs locked between his with the other on top. He’s face to face with you like this. He slides one of his arms under your back to pull you to him even further, the other reaching over around your thighs and sliding his digits against your slick cunt. Your own arm bent at the elbow, you hold onto Bachira’s face locking eyes with him. Hands splay at his face, hoping your expression is enough to get the points across. He smiles at you, fangs glinting out shiny as he stares back.

No words are shared between you but you get the feeling he knows exactly what you want to tell.

You feel his middle finger slide down until it catches on your entrance making you whine. He hums sogtly, forearm pressed against your thigh as he pushes his first digit into you slowly. Your lips meet again in something softer, heat stricken pining you moan as he sinks into your welcoming heat. His voice is a whisper against your skin.

“Fuck, nghh - Meguru,”

“Your body is made for this,” He says, awestruck and giggly. “It’s going in so easy. Needs my knot so bad it’s getting impatient and ready. So fucking wet,”

You huff impatiently. Rarely are you so petulant and impatient. You want more, need him inside so much deeper. From the first time you had sex to now, you’ve never experienced this much longing to be penetrated. To be fucked hard and deep, hardwired in your subconscious.

It’s never been important until now, until Bachira. His first slides in and out so easily, you only start to feel it at two. You tuck against Bachira’s neck, feeling the shape of his fingers. They’re angular, bony but long and pretty. They reach into you deeper than you’re own even with just two.

“There’s a spot that makes you feel good, right?’ He hums. You can feel the reverb of his voice from his chest. “Where is it… here?”

He hits it almost instant, rubbing your gspot - lightly swollen from heat. You arch against him as Bachira places an appreciative kiss on your shoulder. “It’s there. I’ll touch it more for you, ‘kay.”

So he does. He angles his fingers, his wrists in such a way that he can rub up against it in a beckoning gesture. Your clit throbs in response to the stimulation - sticky, honeyed want coiling in your gut and abdomens as you sensitivity skyrockets even higher. Pressure builds slower with his fingers, just two - pumping in and out of your soaking wet pussy noisily as Bachira concentrates, low lidded eyes. Pressing his lips to yours and swallowing your tiny whimpers. You feel like you’re going to burst when he adds a third finger in. You’re not expecting the stretch - not painful but full. Makes you feel even needier, canting your hips against the motion of his fingers.

You cum again dully throbbing all over your body - the sensation snapping like something brittle - clean and even but obvious. Your cunt tightens, clamping down on Bachira’s ring, middle, and pointer and how deeply they reach inside of you. You’ve never cum like this before, never cum from the inside even during heat. Silken walls clamp down on his thick fingers never wanting him to go, only wanting more.

The arousal is just strong enough to make you snap. You gasp, nearly biting his lips as you shudder and rut - trembling in the strong grip of Bachira’s arms. The praise he whispers against your hot skin makes you feel so wanted. Your brain chants for his cock, his knot so eagerly you don’t know how to get it across other than begging him until your voice gives. The omega in you whines, sniffles brattily when Bachira pulls his fingers from you leaving your cunt so sorely empty.

“Fuck me,” You express, trying to keep your composure as best you can. “Can’t think.”

“Eh? That’s a first,” He hums. He draws your hips to his, hand on your ass as his clothed erection is pinned up against your sticky sex. “You’re always overthinking with this pretty face but now you want my knot so much you can’t?”

The words make you want to collapse, how mean he says them while still being sweet.

“I’m sorry,” You hiccup. “I love you

“Shh, shh - it’s okay,” He murmurs. If you were more there you’d know he’s merely teasing. “Don’t cry. Just have to stick beside me from now on okay? All mine. Gonna bite you and make it permanent so you can’t run away.”

“Okay,”

“And you can’t show how cute you are like this to anyone else, okay?”

You sniffle. “Okay,”

“Say it baby,” He echoes. “Say I’m yours and you’re mine.”

So you repeat the words as best you can in this state, slurring your words. “I’m yours and… you’re mine.”

He grins. “You’re so cute. So perfect. Ah, I’m getting jealous of other people just thinking about it.”

You blurt the words out drunk off of the sensations in your body when you hear Bachira talk of jealousy. “I broke up with my last boyfriend because of you,” You mumble, inhaling his scent “He was really nice to me but I couldn’t get over you even though we were together for a year,” You let your eyes flutter shut. “It was just a few days ago. So, there’s nothing to be jealous over,”

A long silence stretches between you at the confession as you listen to Bachira’s heartbeat pick-up pace until it’s a loud pump. The sudden change makes you concerned, pulling away to see what he’s thinking. You assume it was going to be something cheeky and playful like always, but when you look at him - he’s blushing full red. Completely bashful, eyes blown wide and blinking rapidly. You feel oddly amused at it as he presses his lips together, hugging you until you laugh.

“You’re soo unfair. Ugh, how could you…ugh” He trails off to stare at you. “You love me?”

You smile at him breaking out into a giggle. “A lot. It’s embarrassing.”

He sighs blissfully content.

“I can’t look at you while I bond with you but I want to when I knot you ‘kay? Wanna hold you really close.”

“Meguru,”

He whistles at the sound of his name on your lips, like it’s all you need to say. “Lay on your tummy baby. “

He moves aside to let you flip over until you’re laying flat on your stomach. You lift your hips up slightly to make yourself more accessible, burying your face in your arms crossed in front you. You feel anticipation build up in your body, thoughts complete clouded. Your incisors sink in your lower lip as you listen to Bachira unzip and take off his pants, wiggling your hips lightly to tempt him. His hand comes down to swat your ass in a playful gesture. You yelp.

He’s quiet for a while, his hands coming onto your back. “What’s this?”

Your eyes widen as his fingers brush over the spot. You hadn’t thought about it. Your tattoo. Shit.

“…A tattoo,”

“Of a bumble bee and a flower,” Bachira repeats, shit-eating grin audible. “What kind of flower?”

“Kuroyuri.” You say, embarrassed. “Stands for love and curse.”

“Oh you’re really that in love with me, hm? How old is this? It’s healed. You missed me so much? I’m so happy.” He says breathlessly, elation so obvious in his voice it makes you shy. “Tell me all about when I’m done fucking you, okay baby?”

You bury your face away from him, feeling shy as he kisses the placement before moving along.

The position doesn’t let you see Bachira’s cock. Instead you feel it, which makes it much more imposing than you ever thought possible. The weight, the heft, the thickness of it is makes your breath hitch as you finally feel it outside of the confines of his boxers. You don’t need to look at it, you can feel how massive it is. He slides it along the curve of your ass and you can sense it so obviously it makes your stomach churn. He slides it between your ass, pushing it through both cheeks but not penetrating and it stretches you. You can barely contain the shock in your voice, pussy throbbing at the idea of him being inside of you with something so unbearably big.

He hasn’t even knotted you. How can he possibly be that big without a knot. Your voice trembles.

“Meguru… you’re huge.”

He laughs, breathless. Cocky and egoistic that sends your spine tingling like a solar flare. “You don’t like it?”

“I’m a little scared,” You admit. “But I want it at the same time.”

“Don’t be scared,” His voice is tender but his words are filthy. “You’re made for me. Your cunts all split open and soaking wet because it’s begging you for my knot, pretty. Just mine. You’ll feel so full with me. So don’t be nervous and let me in okay?”

You breathe deeply shakily, eyes fluttering closed at the promise of it. “Okay, Meguru.”

You find yourself thankful that you’re not looking at him, but at the same time - you’re unsure if it’s better. You have to focus in on the sensation. There’s nothing but posters on the wall for you to look at and your eyes are barely focused it. Every inch of your skin is dry kindle and Bachira is the lighter - the match, the spark that sends you reeling in the midst of your heat.

Your heats are always drunken stupors, messy hormonal sessions. To you they’ve always been akin to intense inebriated sex that’s painful unless you cum a few times.

But with Bachira your heat is all encompassing flame. It’s like letting the sun swallow you whole, sweat dripping down your spine. When Bachira pushes the fat head of his cock into your tight, wanting, needy fucking cunt - you cry so loud you might scream. Whats left of your sense snaps as your body throbs for cock, you push yourself back onto him with a groan. You want him to knot you, want him to fuck you full and cum deep inside and plug you up. Want him to make you so whole and he’s so good because he is.

You feel your fists tangle in the sheets, and then feel Bachira’s body slump over yours from behind. His hand falls over yours, squeezing it as the thick swell of his shaft pushes into you your pussy painfully slow and stakes its claim. You feel like an animal the way you give way to your desires.

The sensations and scent in the room is so strong your eyes sting and your mouth waters, drool pooling at your lips as Bachira splits your pussy open completely on his fat cock. Everything is sweet, coats your mouth as you take in a sharp gasp of air. You choke his name out from your lips, whimpering at the soft growl in his voice when he finally bottoms out. Inch by inch, veins of his cock throbbing and pulsing inside of you.

Your body is hypersensitive. You’re so wet, so out of your mind with that your thighs are trembling at the edge of an orgasm. If he moves the right way, you know you’ll cum instantly.

He leans over your shoulder and you pick your head up weakly letting him lick into your mouth. “Gonna bond you. Gonna mark you and mate you and making you all fucking mine. Sink my fangs into your pretty neck, my pretty omega. You’re so precious baby. Make me so hard. I love you, I love you so much.”

“Bite me,” Is all you can get out, your brain can barely think hard enough for anything else. “Please. Please bite me,”

It’s sudden. Sharp. Exactly what you want.

You feel the sensation of teeth in your neck and everything around you halts to honor it. An orgasm shatters you in the process of it as Bachira pulls out and thrusts his hips and you cum so hard you shake violently - hands fisted in the sheets and pussy spasming as you cum relentlessly. Bottomed out, you allow your body to take it all in before the feeling your bond starts to draw in so much clarity. Belly fully, muscles tight - everything slows the the whirring blades of a fan coming a halt or a car worshiping a red light. The world stops spinning, briefly - mind and soul and spirit melding together his fangs descent into your neck. You feel the sharpening teeth sink into the soft flesh of your nape and cry out at the dull sensation of pain, outweighed by the out-of-body euphoria.

It’s like everything makes sense. Every moment, every concern, every heartbreak - every minute apart. Love like a nerve split raw, open, tender - make tears pool at your lashes and spill down your face as Bachira bonds with you and stays there long enough to penetrate. All endorphins, pleasure, pain. Something clicks steadily into place inside of you and makes sense of all of your mess. Everything you are.

A sense of completeness like nothing you could ever know without him. You love him so much it swallows you whole.

Bonding, a mark of permanence - can be rejected by the body. Bred into your secondary sex after years of evolution. A unique trait to alpha and omega sexes, whether same or opposite sex pairs. Bonds are equivalent to sharing yourself with another person. Weak bonds can be broken, and some bonds won’t take at all.

When your bond with Bachira takes so easily some part of you just knows. Some place beyond instinct, beyond every thing in the world that defines you. All of you has always existed in part with Bachira. And this pleasure, this desire for closeness can only be derived from years of unconditional love.

Whatever would happen of you, had you been born an alpha or beta, Bachira would be born alongside you and make you complete or you, him. The way the sensation connects you like an invisible thread is proof of that. The ease of it. The desire between you is greater because of it’s exclusivity, because you prefer omegas and always will - but no one compares to Bachira regardless of sex or anatomy. He is yours because he is him, sweet smells and soft eyes and need.

You can’t help but weep about it as you know he feels it too, secretions from his teeth dulling the pain from the wound as he finally pulls out from the mark and laps at the blood.

You feel such intense relief, heat subsiding leaving only pleasure and warmth. .

You love him so much you could stay like this. You love him so much nothing else in the world could ever sway you from it. You don’t care what it makes you. What it means. You love Bachira as he loves you - conventionally unconventional. Beautifully imperfect.

Tears slip down your face as Bachira licks your wounds for you like always.

“I’m yours, baby.” Bachira says, soft. Whispers your first name as he says it. “I love you so much. My whole life. Since I was little. Since you called out to me and let me show you my dribbling. I can’t stand being without you, you know? So don’t ever leave me,”

You laugh a little, sobering. “As if I could.”

“Wanna knot you and hold you, kay? Gimme a sec.”

Your body whines at sensation of Bachira slowly pulling out before flipping you onto your back in missionary. He’s quick to do it. You glance at his shiny cock , light throb in your neck as he shoves the whole thing back in one go and making your sensitive hole cum all over again. Your own body is ridiculous to you. You’re making a mess on his cock and definitely of his bed in the process, gasping as your muscles spasm in your waist.

“S-sorry,”

“Don’t apologize for that, dummy.” He kisses you. “Here. Hold onto me.”

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let yourself slump into bed, whining as Bachira fucks you a few times - sloppy, wet thrusts noisy in the room around you. You feel them in your exhaustion, another wave of tension making your stomach burn.

“Gonna, fuck—knot you, gonna knot you, ‘kay? Touch yourself for me.”

“Knot me, Meguru.”

Bachira bottoms out. You feel his cum flood your cunt - so thick it’s in a stream as the base of his thick cock swells inside your pussy. You’re already so stretched by his dick on its own, you can’t imagine the sensation of the real thing until you feel it.

It throbs hotly inside of you, deep. The knot swells up until it’s fat enough to stretch your open, slick pussy even further. You feel it in spite of how wet you are, the sensation rubbing on your walls raw punching all the air out of your lungs as he cock fills you completely. You feel it in your throat, his knot in your belly plugging you full as you breathe.

“Fuck,” Your voice breaks. “You’re so huge, what the fuck.”

He pauses then laughs hysterically as he sinks into you unable to move. “Thanks! I’m pretty proud of it.”

You chuckle tiredly. “How long does this last?”

He hums. “An hour-ish?”

Your eyes go wide. “Shit. Really?”

“Uh-huh,” Bachira says happily, collapsing ontop of you. “And when it goes down I’m going to fuck you some more.”

“Mercy… my stamina… Meguru I’ll die.”

“No way. I’ve waited too long.” He says with a deep breath. “But I’ll let you rest for now.”

You close your eyes, smiling. “Pfft. Thanks.”

Your back is going to give out.

Athletes are frightening. Your body is covered in bite marks underneath the collar as you peel out of Bachira’s arms in the morning after. It’s 7am, and the sun still hasn’t risen since it’s the dead of winter. You stare at him, kissing his cheek as he lays - completely rested and healthy. Bastard.

“Meguru,” You hum, stirring him awake. “I’m gonna run to the store and pick us up something to eat.”

“Noooo,” He says, half asleep trying to wrestle you back into bed. “Stay here. With me,”

“No,” You reprimand, peeling away from him. He whines out loud. “I’m sticky. I’m gonna borrow your loose clothes okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“Booo,”

Ultimately too tired to protest, you yawn and crawl out of your bed, scrambling to the shower after rummaging through tubs of clean, old clothes in Bachiras’s room and picking whatever you think will fit.

You shower, scrubbing yourself inside and out. You feel apologetic using the products in the shower as you scrape cum out of yourself as best you can and scrub your body. Layers of sweat and slick between your thighs have dried down and feel incredibly unpleasant now that your sober and your heat is mostly settled or it will be for another few days. You’re thankful that Bachira’s childhood home is the second most familiar place in your life as it allows you to get clean in hot water without feeling awkward.

Once you’re cleaned, you dry off and borrow Bachira’s lotion - rubbing into your skin and taking care of your appearance best you can. You examine yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling sudden humiliation at your face. You’re practically glowing, and you reek of Bachira and fucked out omega even after the bath. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and thanking all higher powers that you don’t have to see your parents for a few more days.

After gathering yourself in the bathroom, you check on Bachira one more time in his room and smile as sleeps softly before slipping downstairs.

His mom hasn’t returned yet. Her shoes, jacket, and other belongings aren’t in the house and her gifts are where you left them. You feel thankful about that as your eyes search for your bag, still sitting on the couch where you left it. Shuffling through it, you pop some heat medication dry before doing anything else.

You grab it. It still has some battery left, left on DND. You check the time only, deciding you can swipe later. Heading out the door quickly, you make sure to lock up using the key underneath the mat for your quick trip to 7/11.

A brisk walk later in the frostbitten air, you enter the convenience store. A bored looking cashier nods at you as you smile flatly in return.

You pick up a couple of things. XXL condoms, juice and soda water, some snacks and ramen - along with some easy hot foods that can keep you both alive until you can get a better meal. Bachira has a decent appetite but you don’t think he’ll be up for a while to eat proper. He likes to sleep in during vacations.

“Ah, excuse—Bachira?”

Your eyes widen as you meet eyes with the familiar stranger and his friend. You know both of these people.

You could not have possibly met them at a worse time.

“Isagi-kun…” You bow, awkwardly thinking of what ways you could end your life right there in the 7/11. “And this is…?”

“Rin Itoshi. He prefers Rin,”

“Rin-kun,”

The taller, brooding one gives you a look, crinkling his nose a little. You want to die. Your gaze turns to Isagi which is not much better as he’s wearing the worst shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen in your life.

“I see. Nice to meet you Rin-kun,” You say, looking away, “What are you two doing here? This is me and Bachira’s hometown.”

“We’re supposed to visit him in a couple of days actually but decided to do a little sight-seeing first. There’s more of us but they’re asleep at the hotel.”

You just nod, silence stretching between you before Isagi breaks it.

“I’m glad the two of you made up,” He says. “When did you guys start to reconcile? I always felt really guilty after the whole mall incident. Glad to see you both doing well,”

Your brain moves too slow to lie. “Uh. Last night was the first time we saw each other in a few years,”

His eyes widen. “So the picture he posted was…?”

You squint. “What picture?”

Isagi makes a guilty face, unsure of what to do. Before you can ask, Rin, pulls his phone out and shows you something.

It’s you and Bachira in bed with you asleep in his arms - your bitemark and visible tattoo showing in the image as his hand cradles the back of your head while you’re cuddling him in your sleep.. You’re both mostly covered by the sheets. The only caption is an emoticon and you’re not tagged. You blink, wiping your eyes. It’s so like him, you aren’t sure if you should laugh or cry. You sigh deeply instead.

“You didn’t know?”

“Haven’t checked my phone since..” You trail off. He’s so reckless. “Thanks for uh… showing me. I’m gonna head back but you and your team mates should come visit sometime. I cook hotpot for New Years so it’d be nice to have you all.”

Isagi smiles amicably, politely ignoring the situation. You’re thankful your partners friend has so much tact unlike he himself. “Of course. I’ll ask Bachira for your info. Keep in touch”

“Of course. Good luck on the World Cup qualifiers.”

They both thank you for that before you turn and depart with whatever left of your dignity.

You check your phone on the way back to his place, seeing your notifications in shambles. Fifty messages total, some from family and most from friends congratulating you. You ignore all of them for now, especially the ones from your brother - not willing to know what they say.

In your despair, you don’t notice the new pair of shoes when you open the unlocked door of Bachira’s childhood home either.

“Oh!” Yu-sans voice is just as welcoming as it always is as you stare at her in the doorway awe-struck. She smiles at you incredibly knowingly as a new wave of mortification sinks in. “You’re back. Meguru is in the shower.”

“Ah,”

She gives you a long grin, letting the silence settle first before breaking out into laughter so loud it startles you. You can feel your body grow hot with shame, wishing the world would open from the ground up and swallow you.

“You know I always thought something like this would happen eventually,” She hums, prepping the flowers you bought last night for a vase. “I’m grateful it happened when you were both adults at least.”

“Yu-obasan..”

“Oh don’t be so cold. Yu-san is fine. Or maybe kaa-san now that you’re both together.” She hums. “Anything but oba-san is fine. Makes me feel old. You know that.”

You make an embarrassed face, sighing as you set your things down at the couch. You wanted to do stuff like this in order. Though you never really imagined you and Bachira together, you always thought for a serious relationship you’d have more of yourself together.

“Uh,” You flush as you sit at the counter. Yu-san gives you a small smile, head tilted to one side as she arranges the flowers you’ve bought her. “It’s late to do this, but uhm… thank you for giving birth to Meguru and for taking care of me as if I were your own child all this time.” You feel your ears turn hot as you say the rest. “I promise to take good care of Meguru and you for as long as I live, any way I can and I hope you can accept our relationship and give us your blessing.”

You pause, afraid to look up for a minute until the silence stretches on for a touch too long. When you look up, she’s smiling. Grinning. Meguru looks so much like her. Her laughter bubbles through the room airily like champagne.

She comes around to hug you tight, startling you from where you sit, her hand on your head. “Asking my blessing… I don’t know how my Meguru got so lucky to find such a responsible kid. Of course you have it. As if you need to ask. Please do take good care of him and yourself. This is your home too, okay?”

You smile before being startled by another familiar voice. “Uwah, I go shower and you’re having a hug without me.”

“Come join us then!”

“Yay! Group hug!”

Bachira hollers as he squeezes you and his mom in a hug, suffocating you. It’s incredibly embarrassing so in some ways it feels incredibly familiar. They’re really too similar some times.

When they pull away, Yu-san plays a motherly kiss to both your face and Bachira’s. “I’m going to go put these up in my room and hang out in the studio for a bit. You two should have a date, alright? It’s rare you have time like this.”

“’Kay,” Bachira says, watching her walk up stairs before shouting. “Love you!”

“Love you too!”

You watch her disappear up the steps before seeing Bachira again sobered. He smiles at you lovingly, but you pout - suddenly remembering this morning.

“Ehhh?? Why are you making that face? Shouldn’t we be super lovey-dovey right now?”

“The picture you posted,” You say, tugging at his shirt with your head down. “That’s too sudden. You’re a big athlete now, and—“

“So? There’s no one for me but you. I don’t care who knows. I want everyone in the entire world to know even though I don’t want them to actually see you.” He murmurs, crowding into your space. “I want everyone to know you’re mine. Don’t be mad, okay?”

“I spoil you too much,” You say, because it’s true and it’s enough to make you not mad at all.

He kisses you then. He tastes like the fruity toothpaste kids use and home when he does pulling back with a warm smile. You feel flush but keep your eyes on his face.

“It’s the first time we’ve kissed just to kiss,” You hum. He smiles mischievously.

“The second time, silly.”

When the realization dawns on you, you gasp - smacking his chest in shock in dismay.

You thought he blacked out for that kiss when you were seventeen! Bachira breaks out into giggles above you.

“Meguru!” You exclaim, feeling huffy as he pulls you into his arms and begs for forgiveness.

Meguru. Homesickness makes you ache, his name in your mouth the only remedy.

Meguru. Your one and only.

#bachira x reader #bluelock x reader #bachira smut #bluelock smut #writing tag #fics for gaza #omegaverse cw

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undertheorangetree · 9 months

Text

In The Woods Somewhere

Summary- Coriolanus does not intend on returning to the Capitol alone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ DUBCON Female reader. TBOSAS spoilers technically. Reader is essentially Lucy Gray. Porn with plot. Toxic relationship. Possessive Coriolanus. Chasing. Biting. Restraint. Choking. Edging. Overstimulation. Fingering. Cunnilingus. P in V sex.

Author’s Note- Happy holidays! This is not our regularly scheduled programming but I have Hunger Games/Tom Blyth brain rot so here’s this monster. Please heed the warnings and link to the full fic on AO3 below

She knows the moment he looks up at her, rifle clutched in his hands, that he will not be coming north with her. Not anymore, not now that he has the one thing tying him to this place well in hand.

She isn't a fool. She knows that his feelings for her played only a small role in his agreeing to come with her but she had been willing to overlook that. When he had cupped her face in his hand and swore that he would join her, that they would escape Panem- and their collective noose- together, she had seen the hesitation there. Coryo was not a man built for nature, no more than he was built for the districts, but she loves him and so she had ignored it. Twisted it into something romantic and noble in her head, that he would give up all this, that he would leave behind everything for her. He had promised her earnestly and she had taken him at his word.

But with the look on his face now, some potent mix of elation and relief washing over him like a wave, she knows she never stood a chance.

"It's the gun," he says, and she hates the tone he uses. The way he almost breathes the words, the way he looks up at her with the ghost of a smile on his face. Had she had doubts about what the guns would inspire in him, the look on his face is enough to prove her right.

"The one you fired at Mayfair," she says with a nod, crossing her arms over her chest. It feels almost protective now, as if she can safeguard her breaking heart. "Spruce must have known about this place too. I guess it's not as secret as I thought. We hide that and you're free."

"No more loose ends."

The way he says it, his hands tightening on the barrel as he looks down at the rifle, makes her blood run cold. This is all he wanted, nothing short of a dream come true. She doesn't like it, her reaction just as much as his own, and she fights to push passed it. Tells herself that there is nothing wrong here, not really, that he is entitled to some semblance of excitement, but she can feel that unease gnawing at her gut. It feels like an omen. A warning.

She grins, hoping to seem more at ease than she truly is, and feels her nose scrunch up teasingly as she says, "Besides me."

It's the wrong thing to do. Immediately, he goes rigid, eyes darting up to look at her and she sees the distrust there, akin to a beaten dog. It wouldn't be as startling as it is if not for their conversation in the woods not even an hour before. He is willing to kill if backed far enough into a corner and is that not what she has just done? Reminded him of the power she held over him with this knowledge? Backed him into a corner? And just like that beaten dog, she can see that he is only a moment away from snapping at her with pearly white teeth.

"You wouldn't... tell anyone?"

She feels her eyebrows draw together, all attempt at joking gone. It hurts a little, what seems to be a complete lack of faith in her, and it's almost surprising. Almost. "Course not."

But would she? She doesn’t really know now. The fact that he believes she could, as if she could exchange his freedom for her own, feels like the final nail in the coffin. She could forgive his dislike of the idea of heading north, the relief on his face when he saw the guns. But what he said in the woods- three’s enough for me- and his distrust of her now… she doesn’t think she’s safe with him. All their talk of trust, of how he agreed it was worth more than love, thrown to the wind all for the sake of a duffle bag full of rifles. Because just as easily as those gun could buy her freedom, they could secure his own too. One small step toward returning to his life back in the Capitol. He was going to leave before killing Mayfair, she knew that. And if there’s no weapon linking him to the crime, he could. Because no matter how badly she wants to believe he wants a life with her, she thinks he wants his old one back that much more.

And she isn’t sure just what he is willing to sacrifice to get rid of all those loose ends.

She feels herself smile again, moving on autopilot to fetch the knife she knows is on the shelf near the door. It doesn’t reach her eyes but she isn’t looking at him, gripping the handle of the knife a little too tightly. “I think I’m gonna go dig up some katniss. There’s a good patch down by the lake, don’t know when we’ll come across it again.”

His suspicion only grows at that, lips parted and head tilted in question, and she knows she needs to go. Though his finger has not yet shifted toward the trigger, it hasn’t moved away from it either. He has been a Peacekeeper for no more than two months, but that was more than enough time to pick up all he needed to know about firing a gun. Even if his aim is shoddy, it wouldn’t take much effort to aim in her general direction and hold down on a trigger. She had said it herself, she is the only one left who knew the truth about Mayfair’s death- her murder. If he wanted to go back to the Capitol, he needed to be damn sure there wasn’t a chance of his time here coming back to haunt him. As it is now, she is the only thing standing between him and the Snow penthouse.

“Thought you said they weren’t ready yet,” he protests, that uncertainty still more than apparent.

She prays her smile doesn’t look as forced as it feels when her eyes flick up to look at his handsome face, doing what she can to seem nonchalant. “The world changes awful fast.”

She pulls the door open, the rain pounding against the porch outside, when he calls her name. Her grip on the knife tightens a hair more before she’s turning back to look at him, keeping her eyes wide and innocent as she tilts her head in question. She knows she hesitated, knows he caught her if the look on his face is anything to go by, but rather than let her panic consume her, she focuses on his eyes. The beautiful, brilliant blue of his eyes. That may be the thing she misses most about him, after all this.

“It’s still raining.”

As if a little rain is enough to stop her from saving her own life.

“Well, I’m not made out of sugar,” she grins, taking one last look at him before shutting the door, placing some kind of barrier between them.

Read the rest here :)

#Coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #Coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x fem!reader #Coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #coriolanus snow #tbosas smut

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slut4thebroken · 11 months

Text

Nymphomania

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x patient!reader

Summary | You been trying for months to get Dr. Crane to give in. After a bold attempt, he finally breaks.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, smut, age gap, doctor/patient relationship?, mentions of murder, reader is so horny and we’re here for it, degradation, humiliation, face fucking, deep throating, rough oral sex, slight dubcon? but only because he’s “reluctant”, filthy nasty disgusting oral sex😭

Words | 2.6 k

Notes | He’s about 38 in this fyi. Also I already have an idea for a second part but it’s not even started so don’t expect it any time soon lol

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Dr. Crane has been your psychiatrist for several months now. Ever since your first session, you’ve been completely smitten and you were never shy about showing it. At first he was uncomfortable with your forwardness and flirty behavior, but he quickly learned to just ignore it… and most of the time he’s successful. But every once in a while you’ll say something particularly bold and he’ll reprimand you with a blush.

Today was no different. You were brought to the usual room where your sessions take place and you waited eagerly for him to arrive. When the door finally opened and he walked in, you perked up, a giddy smile making its way on your face.

“How are you today?” He asked as he set down his things, then sat across from you.

“Better now that you’re here.” You put your elbow on the table and rested your chin on your hand, staring up at him through your lashes. “How are you?”

“Busy. Shall we get started?” The dismissal was not lost on you… but you’ve never been one to cooperate.

“You sound stressed, doctor. Maybe I can help you relax?” You purred, slowly extending your leg to brush your foot over his shin, sliding it up. He pushed your foot back down, then moved his chair back a little as he cleared his throat.

“Behave.” He warned, making your lips curl up into a smirk.

“For you? Always.” He scoffed at that, but he can’t blame you for not behaving. Not when it’s not even your fault. “It’s not my fault I act like this.” You said defensively.

“No?”

“I wouldn’t be so needy if you’d just help me out every once in a while.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of taking care of that yourself.”

“I don’t like doing it myself, it’s not the same. Need you, doctor.” Your gaze shifted to his lips before settling on his hands, examining the veins leading up into his arms, covered by his suit. You wished the table wasn’t here so you could see all of him though.

“Need your cock.” You suddenly looked at his eyes again and the only indication you got that he was affected by your words was the slight bob of his throat as he swallowed. “Please, Dr. Crane.” You pouted, leaning forward a little, wishing your top was lower to help you out.

“If you need to be fucked so bad, you shouldn’t have killed four people and gotten yourself stuck in here.” He said, sounding almost bored.

“I didn’t kill people, I killed men.” You said, now much more annoyed, but quickly brought your tone back to something sweeter. “And I guess I just thought at least one hot guy in here would be willing to fuck me. I didn’t plan on having my options completely limited to you.”

“How are they limited?”

“Because I don’t want anyone else! I just want you. And I can tell you feel the same, you’re just too obsessed with your job to act on it.” You frowned. He took in a deep breath through his nose and looked away from you as he thought.

“Come here.” He suddenly said, leaning forward while beckoning you to do the same. Once you were leaned over the table slightly, you let your eyes fall to his lips as you waited for his next move. “My job isn't the issue. It’s the fact that you’re a criminally insane little girl.” He said lowly, making you press your thighs together as you squirmed.

“I'm 20.” You defended weakly.

“Exactly. I was already a legal adult when you were born.”

“So? That just makes it hotter.” You said quietly, then bit your lip, staring up at him with wide, innocent eyes. He didn’t respond and you tried not to shrink under his gaze. After another moment you sighed and leaned back, his eyes following every movement carefully. When you pushed your chair back, he stiffened.

“What are you doing?” You slid down the chair to the floor, then crawled under the table. He started moving his chair back so you grabbed the legs to keep it in place. Because of his attempt to get away from you, you now had enough room to get out from under the table, but the space between it and the chair was small enough that your shoulders pressed against his spread legs.

“Please? I need your cock, Dr. Crane.” You pouted, placing your hands on his thighs and snaking them up. “I’ve been thinking about it every day for months. Please let me have a taste.” You did your best to hide your smirk as you stared up at him through your lashes. When you suddenly leaned forward and started mouthing at his cock through his clothing, he roughly grabbed your hair, making you whine and work even harder.

“Insatiable little slut.” He spat, wrenching your head back uncomfortably so that you were looking up at him again. Since you couldn’t use your mouth, you placed a hand on his bulge, making his grip on your hair tighten. You couldn’t help the open-mouthed smile that crept up on your face at the rough treatment. That seemed to only make him angrier though.

“Hands behind your back.” He ordered. You smirked and glanced down at your hand on his bulge, debating if you wanted to be a brat or not. When his grip got impossibly tighter, you released him and placed your hands behind yourself. You had a feeling that he would end up giving you what you want.

“You go a few months without it and turn into a cock hungry whore,” You moaned and squeezed your thighs together, looking up at him with a glint in your eyes. “Like a fucking bitch in heat.” He spat.

“Please, Dr. Crane.” You said through a moan. “Please, I need it.” Your gaze shifted between his face and his crotch hungrily.

“Stop talking.” He hissed.

“If you want me to shut up, you know what to do.” You smirked at him and he clenched his jaw, letting out a heavy breath through his nose. He seemed to be debating what to do— torn between not wanting to give you what you want and finally shutting you up.

“Take it out.” He ordered. You don’t think your hands have ever moved faster. They immediately shot out and started working on his belt, then the button, and finally the zipper. When his cock was finally free, you let out a low moan and tried to lean forward, but he stopped you with the hand in your hair. “Hands behind your back.” You whined but obeyed and he pulled you closer, using his free hand to fist his cock. You could smell him now and you knew that he could feel your panting breaths with how close you were.

“Please.” You mewled, shuffling closer.

“Move your hands and we’re done. Understand?” He warned. You didn’t know if he meant done right now, or done for good and you’ll be assigned to someone else, but both options sounded terrible.

“Yes, doctor.” You stared up at him through your lashes with wide, innocent eyes, silently pleading him to give you what you want.

He relented and pulled your head down as your mouth fell open, eagerly anticipating what you’ve been craving since you first arrived here. When you finally wrapped your lips around the tip, you moaned loudly at the taste and let your eyes flutter shut. You flicked your tongue over it, lapping up what little precum there was, then tried to swallow him down deeper. He stopped you with the hand in your hair and you let out a long, needy whine.

“Don’t be a brat.” You blushed at the tone he used to scold you, feeling like a child. You obeyed with a pout and mouthed at the tip of his cock, clasping your hands together so they wouldn’t subconsciously move from your back.

He started pushing you down, then back up, agonizingly slow. When you looked up at him again, he cursed under his breath and started moving you a little faster. You hollowed your cheeks and pressed your tongue against the underside of his cock, trying hard to impress him and earn his praise. But all you got was a soft sigh.

You whined, wanting to pull off so you could beg for more. He just shushed you and kept up the slow pace of shallow thrusts.

“Please.” You tried to say around him, the word coming out garbled and almost incoherent.

“What, this isn’t enough for you?” He suddenly pulled you off and you panted as you caught your breath.

“Fuck my throat.” You gasped out, cheeks heating up. “Please.” You added so it didn’t seem like a demand. He pushed you back down, resuming the original pace.

“I’m surprised it took murder for them to put you in here. I would’ve thought it’d be nymphomania.” You moaned at the subtle degradation and squeezed your thighs together, aching to reach a hand between your legs. He finally sped up, but kept his thrusts shallow, barely even brushing the back of your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you sucked harder, trying to make it even better. “That’s it… Put that mouth to good use for once.” You didn’t let the insult deter you.

He suddenly forced you all the way down and you choked, not expecting it. Holding your hair tight enough to make your head throb, he kept you there, his cock buried so deep that your nose was against his pelvis. With the lack of air and the pressure on your gag reflex, your eyes were watering and you looked up at him with a muffled whimper, making him curse under his breath.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry? I thought you wanted this?” He sneered, making you whine. He pulled you back until just the tip was in your mouth and let you take in a deep breath before shoving you back down. Rather than holding you there, he started bobbing your head up and down his cock, breaching your throat barrier each time. You couldn’t help the way you gagged and choked, but you didn’t dare try to pull away.

“I thought a whore like yourself would’ve been good at this.” He said, disappointed. Your brows furrowed, not able to express your frown any other way. When he removed his hands, your expression turned into one of confusion. “Go ahead, nympho. Prove that you deserve to suck my cock.” You moaned around him, but quickly stepped up to the challenge.

You were moving much slower than he was, choking each time you forced yourself all the way down, but determined not to give up. When you looked up at him, he almost seemed bored as he watched you. You pulled off and he raised his brows in a silent question.

“Can I please use my hands?” You asked quietly, voice already hoarse.

“No.” With a pout, you shuffled closer and leaned down, this time aiming for his balls. His spit soaked cock rested on your face, furthering your humiliation and arousal. You licked at them before sucking one into your mouth, making him let out a pleased sigh. You worked it over in your mouth for a few seconds before moving to the other one to do the same.

You licked up along the underside of his cock with a small smirk— he was practically pulsing because of how hard he was. When you reached the tip, you licked up the precum with a low moan, then took him back in your mouth, immediately going all the way down.

He let you control the pace for a few more thrusts before grabbing your hair again and speeding up. When he let out a low groan, you quickly looked up to see his face, finding him with his lips slightly parted and his eyes half lidded and he stared down at you. He forced you all the way down, then held you there, and you whimpered around him, trying to control your gag reflex.

“Lick my balls.” You furrowed your brows, still looking up at him, and he all but rolled his eyes. “Fucking lick them.” He spat, jerking your head down even though your lips were already at the base. You stuck your tongue out and tried to obey, making him groan.

“There you go…” He placed both hands on the sides of your head for a better grip, then started roughly pulling you up and down. You choked and sputtered, but his grip was unmoving. “Fuck— Keep this up and I might just let this happen again.” He said through a breath, making your stomach flutter at the thought.

He continued using your mouth practically as a fleshlight, ignoring your gagging and muffled sounds, focusing solely on his orgasm. After what felt like minutes but was probably just seconds, you felt your body start to try and pull away from the brutal attack on your throat. Even though your mind didn’t want you to, your body was panicking. His moans grew louder and you begged your body to endure just a little longer, needing him to come down your throat.

“Stop fucking fighting it, bitch. You wanted this, so take it.” He growled, moving you faster and pushing you down harder. Your eyes burned with tears and it wasn’t long before they started falling, making him even more frenzied and desperate. His hips were bucking into you now as he forced your head up and down his cock, barely pulling you back more than halfway.

After only a few more thrusts, he forced you all the way down with a low groan, using both hands to keep you there with your nose buried in his pelvis. His hips would occasionally buck into you as he rode out his orgasm. You moaned at the feeling of his come hitting your throat, but wished you could taste him too. Once his cock stopped twitching and his sounds died down, he finally loosened his grip enough to let you pull back and you coughed almost violently as he panted.

“Satisfied?” He asked through a breath, looking down at you.

“For now.” You smirked, but batted your eyes at him innocently. He released your hair and you frowned, but didn’t protest any further.

“Clean it.” He ordered and you eagerly dove back in to lick at his softening cock. You were more just enjoying tasting him rather than cleaning up all of your spit… which he seemed to notice. “I said, clean it.” You looked up at him, but when you were met with a warning glare, you just huffed and did as he said, licking his cock and balls to clean him as much as possible. “Put it back now.” Despite the fact that you wanted nothing more than to do the opposite, you tucked his softening cock back in his pants and fastened them before buckling his belt.

“Good.” Your heart practically stopped at the sudden praise. “Sit back down.” You frowned, but obeyed, waiting for the next command. “Trust that if you touch yourself before our next session, I will know, and I will have someone else take over as your psychiatrist. Do you understand?” Your frown deepened as a needy whine left you and he raised his brows in response, challenging you, making you huff.

“Yes..” You muttered, looking at the table as you slouched in your chair, sulking. The next few days are going to be absolute torture.

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @faebirdie @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @bluujaiwrites (didn’t let me tag ->) @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @idkdudsworld

#jonathan crane x reader smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane #batman begins #arkham asylum #patient!reader

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naughtyneganjdm · 1 year

Text

Comfort Zone

Summary: Being shy was always a problem, but when Negan expresses interest in you, you have to step outside of your comfort zone in order to get the one thing you have wanted for years.

Characters: Negan & the reader (OC, second person).

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49606555

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, rough sex, masturbation, just filth really, etc.

Notes: I asked for people to give a me a few ideas to write something short and quick...I was given the reader is shy and she is finally bold enough to take what she wants. So here it is. Hope you like it. @murphslass

What were you supposed to do when you were shy and the object of your desires was one of the most charismatic people you had ever met? That was something you could never quite figure out when it came to Negan.

Toward the beginning of when the world started to fall to shit, you were one of the first people that Negan had found with The Sanctuary. And you were loyal. Very loyal. But you were incredibly shy. It was a problem that you had since you were younger. Anyone who knew Negan would have known that he was the complete opposite. So when you were at The Sanctuary, it was really hard to stand out. Especially when you were around him. The biggest problem was that you always had a thing for Negan. Add that in with your shyness and that meant that you were never able to tell him. So you kind of just disappeared into the background. It was the small interactions that you appreciated. But it was never much.

When Alexandria defeated The Sanctuary, they brought you in with open arms. Hell, you were just someone living at The Sanctuary at the time. It didn’t hurt coming to Alexandria knowing that Negan was still here. While it terrified others to know that he was still living there, you found comfort in it. And when they started giving Negan more duties around Alexandria, allowing him to be outside his cell you were happy for him.

On occasion you would be the person that would bring him his meals, but you were still too shy to make small talk with Negan. Considering you had the hots for him for years it made things awkward for you. Even when he himself was trying to talk to you, you found yourself turning away. And as of late he was trying quite a bit. You assumed it was because he was lonely, you just didn’t find the strength you needed to talk back much.

Here you were again. Standing outside the door to his cell holding onto one of the platters carrying his lunch. Trying to coach yourself to finally say something and create some small talk between the two of you, you bit down on your tongue and sighed. Today was the day.

Carefully turning the knob to the door, you pushed open the door and felt your heart skip a beat when you stopped your movements. Laying stretched out across his small bed in his cell was Negan with his pants down at his hips and his shirt pushed up toward the middle of his chest. His long fingers were curled around his swollen cock while he was jerking off. Immediately you thought of turning around and letting him have his moment, but at that moment he didn’t notice that you were there. His head was tipped back with his eyes closed shut tightly. He was biting down on his bottom lip trying to stifle the faint, raspy moans that were still falling from his throat no matter how hard he was trying to hide them. His left was wrapped around the base of his erection while his right stroked over his solid manhood.

“Fuck…” Negan growled out and hearing him like that made a chill run down your spine. In all the time that you had known Negan of course you had pictured something like this. It was like something out of your own dreams, but you couldn’t believe that it was actually happening.

Something that resembled a whine fell from Negan’s throat and his lips parted. Soft pants were falling from him and it brought attention to the bulging vein at the side of his neck. You didn’t know where to look. Did you watch the pleasure that was flooding his sexy features while he jerked off or did you focus on his surprisingly nice cock that was throbbing in his grasp?

Another moan fell from Negan’s throat, his hips arching up toward his caress bringing your attention to his cock again. Your throat went dry looking at it. It was thick, with prominent veins running up and down the shaft. It was lengthy and the way he was caressing his fingers over his body drew attention to the mushroom shaped tip. Negan had a very nice dick and it did leave you surprised to see. Especially with the arrogance. When people were often cocky like Negan, it wasn’t very likely that they had something to match that ego, but he did.

His breathing grew louder, his hand moving faster over his body with his hips bucking up toward his grasp. Desperate pants were filling the air from his parted lips and you felt your heart racing at the sight. His left hand released the base to caress up and over his slender abdomen toward his chest. His raspy moans grew stronger alerting you to the fact he was about to come, but right as he was about to, he tipped his head back and his eyes opened.

Once Negan saw you, his eyes grew wide, your name falling from his parted lips when the first line of his cum shot out from the tip covering his lower abdomen and a few more ropes of cum followed. Jolting his body, Negan turned away from you. The muscles in his small bottom flexing when his orgasm clearly continued.

“Fuck. Shit. Fucking hell,” Negan’s worried breaths were followed with involuntary moans while he tried to pull up his pants. Breathlessly, Negan eagerly reached for the tissues in attempts to clean himself up. Maybe you should have turned away, but your body was frozen. Standing up from the bed, you saw that Negan’s cock was still twitching after its release and he was swiftly trying to push it back beneath the material of his boxer briefs before working together his pants. “I am so fucking sorry. I am so…so sorry.”

Curling your fingers around the platter that they had put his lunch on, you lowered your eyes and heard Negan’s labored breathing still filling the air. Lifting your gaze, you saw that he was standing at the bars of his cell, his fingers curled around them while his hazel eyes stared out at you.

“Shit,” Negan looked down toward the center of his pants and he adjusted his hips showing that the material was still straining to his body. Huffing out, Negan’s eyebrows furrowed and he raised his eyes back up to yours. There were goosebumps over your arms and even if it made you a pervert, you were incredibly turned on. “I swear I didn’t know you were coming down here,” a laugh fell from his throat when he shook his head, “I thought I would be the only one coming down here.”

Licking your lips, you headed to set the platter down at the edge of the bars and there was an amused smirk over Negan’s handsome features. That was obviously a joke he was trying to drop to lighten the mood, but you didn’t react at all.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just bringing you your meal and I…” you began finding it hard to keep eye contact with Negan. Hell, he caught you red handed watching him jerking off. You were embarrassed to say the least.

“I’m sure that’s not what you were expecting to see,” Negan cleared his throat uncomfortably, his dimples sinking in while he stared out at you. “I usually hear people coming down the stairs, but I guess I was in the middle of the act and I wasn’t thinking.”

“I totally understand,” you waved your hand about not sure of what to say when Negan brushed his fingers through his damp hair. “It looked like you were enjoying yourself and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

A faint chuckle fell from Negan’s throat and you damned yourself for saying something so stupid. Shaking your head, you started to backstep toward the door assuming that he thought you were an idiot for saying what you did.

“Hey,” Negan called out once you made it to the door. Stopping, you kept your head down before gazing back over your shoulder at him. “Did you enjoy what you saw?”

There was curiosity in Negan’s eyes when you turned to face him and your hand was still holding onto the doorknob ready to run away like all the times before.

“Because it was you I was thinking about,” Negan slurred, his long eyelashes fluttering while staring out at you.

“Don’t fuck with me,” you breathed out with a long sigh knowing that was likely the furthest thing from the truth. “You weren’t thinking about me. You hardly even know me. I’m the least noticeable person around.”

“I’m not fucking with you. And fuck, I happen to disagree with you,” Negan spoke up, his eyes narrowing. “You always stood out. Even at The Sanctuary you stood out to me. So that’s bullshit.”

“You knew I was there?” you questioned hearing Negan let out a half laugh, his head tipping to the side. Sure, the two of you had talked a few times at The Sanctuary, but you always felt like a loner there. “You would have never known it.”

“No, because I wasn’t flirting with you all the time trying to test out if you would have been comfortable being one of my wives or anything,” Negan snorted, his eyebrows arching when you lowered your hands at your sides. “At first, I thought you didn’t like me because you were always running off and shit. So I never asked. But after seeing you right now, I don’t think that’s the case. You’re fucking shy, aren’t you?”

Searching for the right words to say, you had nothing and it made you sigh when Negan started to speak up again, “What’s not to like? You’re beautiful, you’re loyal, you’re kind…you just need to step outside your comfort zone a little. I saw the way you were looking at me, why never make your move?”

“I uh…I have to go,” you felt your face flushing over and you stepped back toward the stairs hearing Negan calling out your name but at this point you were too embarrassed to speak. So you did what you did best and ran away.

Later that day you were out late working around Alexandria and you saw Negan was being shadowed by Brandon. Once Negan spotted you, he spoke to Brandon about something and he headed over toward you from where you were working on gardening duty.

“Hey,” Negan uttered, reaching to pull the hat he was wearing from his head. Pushing his fingers back through his hair, Negan cleared his throat and tossed his hands up after he put his hat back on. “I was thinking…maybe the next time you come down to give me one of my meals, maybe you can stay. We can talk. Get to know one another or some shit. It can be like a first date. That is if you’re interested.”

“Really?” you breathed out, resting back on your knees and Negan nodded his head. While that sounded nice, you knew you were shy and would likely turn him off by acting that way. Especially after he told you earlier that you needed to step outside of your comfort zone. “I don’t know Negan.”

“Am I reading everything wrong?” Negan wondered, waving his hands about and his facial expression twisting. “Was I wrong about things? If that’s the case I just made a total ass of myself today, didn’t I? I am so sorry.”

“Hey…” you called out to him when Negan shook his head and held his hands up.

“You know what? It’s been a long time since I’ve done this whole flirting thing and maybe I’m rusty,” Negan backstepped toward the large amounts of laundry they had him doing. “Just ignore my idiot self and…I’m so sorry. About earlier, about this…don’t worry about it.”

By the time you finally had the courage to even speak up again Negan was already headed back toward the laundry and you cussed to yourself. Why couldn’t you just fucking say something? Negan was everything you wanted. Instead of heading back over there, you just kept up with your work and damned yourself for being this shy. Negan was saying everything you could ever want to hear earlier, why couldn’t you just believe it?

When night fell and the only light that was still available was that coming from the houses and the moon that was shining bright, you could see that Negan was still out finishing the laundry that he had been drying out all day. Sitting on the steps from the porch of the home you lived in, you watched him. It looked like Brandon had left for some reason.

Getting up from the steps, you made your way toward the laundry that Negan was taking down. Negan tossed another sheet into the pile that he had behind him that he would fold after he got them down from the lines. It was like a maze of sheets blowing in the wind when you approached Negan from behind.

“Negan,” you called out his name and he looked back over his shoulder at you. Turning on his heel, his hazel eyes were confused when you approached him. Grabbing a tight hold of the blue button down they had him wearing, you tugged him down toward you and claimed his lips in a forceful kiss. Stumbling forward, Negan groaned against your lips sending a vibration through them that made you moan.

“Whoa,” Negan breathed out when you pulled away. His tongue dragged out across his bottom lip and he smiled. Stroking your fingers over the back of his neck, you curled the longer hair at the bottom his neck around them before firmly shoving into Negan. Gasping out, Negan grumbled when he fell into the pile of sheets and clothes that he had tossed behind him. In a way, you two were hidden by the sheets that were still hanging from the lines. Adjusting his body, Negan watched when you carefully kicked out of your shoes, your fingers sliding in over the button of your jeans. Pulling it apart, Negan’s eyes watched carefully when you pushed them down your legs. “What are you doing?”

“Stepping out of my comfort zone. I’ve always wanted you Negan. I’ve just been too damn shy to take what I want, but I’m sick of that,” you muttered knowing that after what you had seen earlier with Negan it had left you aching in the worst possible of ways. “Seeing you earlier touching yourself like that turned me on more than you will ever know.”

“Yeah?” Negan’s breathing grew louder when you hooked your fingers into your panties pushing them down along with your jeans. Bravery was not something that came normally to you, but right now you were being bold because you wanted Negan and you wanted him bad.

Lowering down, you crawled in over Negan and eagerly reached for his belt to pull it apart, “If you don’t want this, tell me now before I make a fool of myself.”

“No, I want this. I want this a lot,” Negan responded reaching down to help you get his pants open. While you worked at the material, Negan reached for your shirt to pull it from your body and toss it aside. “I can’t promise you I’m going to last entirely too long because it’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone, but I will fucking try.”

“Good, because I have no idea where that little creeper Brandon is and the last thing we need is him watching us,” you felt your heart hammering inside of your chest with Negan’s lips kissing down over your chest with his fingers reaching around you in attempts to unhook your bra. Managing to get Negan’s pants down his hips, you crawled in over Negan and grabbed a hold of his semi-erect cock. “You’ve just left me aching all day after what I saw you doing earlier and if I don’t have you inside of me right now, I might combust.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” Negan slurred, his head tipping back when your free hand reached to push the baseball cap that he was wearing from his head. His hair was messy and it was dark, but you could still see the longing in his eyes amongst the moonlight. Once Negan got your bra unhooked, he helped pull the material from your body before his large hands reached up to cup your breasts in a tender squeeze. “God, you are so fucking beautiful. Y’know that?”

Caressing over Negan’s cock fueled you more than you could ever imagine. Just having him grow solid in your grasp had your core throbbing with a fire growing in the pit of your belly. Lifting up just enough, Negan managed to get his button down off before swiftly working to get his t-shirt from his body. Bringing the two of you closer together, you felt the hairs from his chest tickling at your breasts and it made you hum with approval.

“Brandon is eating by the way. The little shit seems to trust me enough to finish what I have to finish,” Negan explained, his kisses trailing up over the side of your neck, over your jawline and toward your lips. Each brush of his lips over yours felt incredible and you couldn’t help but purr when he moaned against your kiss when he was fully solid in your grasp. Working your hand carefully between the two of you, you traced the swollen tip of Negan’s cock between your folds and his mouth pulled from yours. Looking between the two of you, Negan sucked at his bottom lip while you tugged your fingers through his dark hair. Adjusting over his body, you led his length toward your wet pussy taking him inside of you with an eagerness that neither one of you were expecting. Both of you moaned out as you lowered your hips down over him wanting to feel all of him inside of you. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet. This is still from earlier?”

“Be quiet,” you instructed hooking your arms around his shoulders and bracing your knees to give you balance when you started rocking your hips over his length in enthusiastic movements. Shakily, Negan’s hands braced at your hips while his eyes connected with yours. “We don’t need people coming out here and seeing us like this.”

“Would that embarrass you?” Negan wondered, his squared jaw flexing while you enjoyed the way his body filled and stretched you. It had been so long since you were with someone and having Negan of all people inside of you fueled you all the more.

“No,” you shook your head, your lips hovering over his while you bounced steadily over his cock making him faintly moan against your flesh. “The only person’s opinion I care about here is you. I don’t care if someone sees me riding your big cock. I just don’t want you getting in trouble for it.”

“Fucking hell,” Negan winced while your tight canal clung to his throbbing erection. Burying his nose against the side of your neck, Negan did his best to stay quiet. Your fingers caressed over the long planes of his shoulders and toward his neck enjoying having him close like this. “You feel so fucking good.”

Crying out, you knew that you were desperate to make some kind of noise but knew you couldn’t. Now that Negan was inside of you, you never wanted him to leave. It felt that good with how hard he was. Pausing for a moment when you dropped down, your hips shook and you felt his fingers digging harder into your flesh.

“It was such a shame seeing you waste all of that cum earlier,” you muttered hearing Negan’s moan follow, his head tipping back to stare out at you with awe. It was obvious that what you said had shocked him, but he liked it. “I would have much preferred that it was me that you were pumping all of that cum into.”

“You’re dirty,” Negan mused with a smirk, his palms sliding up the lengths of your abdomen toward your breasts to caress over them. Your hips were trembling feeling him stagnant inside of you, but you wanted to remember exactly what it felt like having him solid, filling you, touching you and looking at you with so much desire. “You may be shy, but you’re not innocent in the least, are you?”

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” you purred tipping your head back when he lowered his head down to take your breast into his mouth. Lapping his tongue at your nipple Negan sucked faintly at the flesh before moving toward the other breast to do the same. Firmly grasping to your hips, Negan adjusted the both of you and planted his feet so he could start smacking up against you again and again. Wet sounds filled the night air and there was a cool brisk to it causing chills to flood your body.

“I just want you to be mine,” Negan alerted you knowing that neither one of you were really being as quiet as you should have been. You felt full with Negan’s cock inside of you. Your fingers were digging into his chest, possibly breaking the skin, you couldn’t see that well in the dark. But Negan seemed to be enjoying it. Rolling you over onto your back, Negan crawled in over you and reached for your wrists. Urging them up, he pushed them into the pile of clean clothes that were beneath you. There was a bit of strength with his fingers wrapped tightly around your wrists, but you liked it. Pounding into you with reckless abandon, Negan hovered his lips over yours and he kept his eyes locked on you wanting to watch every reaction you had to him fucking you. “I’d really love to come down your throat one day, but since you are so desperate to have a pussy full of my cum, I’d really hate to let you down.”

“You better make me come first,” you hummed and a wicked smirked tugged at the corners of his lips. Lowering down in closer to you, he adjusted his body so that the two of you were pressed up against each other. The weight of him over you felt incredible when he released your wrists and reach down to pull your hips up closer to his. Rolling his hips in calculated movements had your body arching toward his. The change in position had his groin rubbing up against yours with every plunge and pull his cock made inside of you. It brought forth an incredible amount of friction over your clitoris while the swollen tip of his cock was hitting your g-spot in all the right ways.

“That won’t be a problem,” he breathed out with a smug expression, his lips covering yours again and it was a smart decision because it was going to be hard to hide the sounds that you were starting to make. This wasn’t a way to draw things out. No, this was a way for him to make you come and come fast. Your body bounced upward with every thrust he made, but you clung tightly to him. Kissing Negan was intoxicating. It enhanced everything that much more. You weren’t used to this kind of deep penetration, but he was doing a hell of a job proving to you why you made the right decision tonight. “Think of all the orgasms you could have been having if you would have just made your move at The Sanctuary. This dick could have been yours this whole time.”

“It’s mine now,” you panted against Negan’s lips, an amused rumble vibrated against your mouth when he nodded. “And I want it inside of me as much as possible.”

“I won’t fight you on that darlin’,” Negan mused with an arch of his eyebrow when you brought him in closer to you so you could silence your moans with his kisses again. A rushing ache flooded to your head and you tried your best not to pull away from Negan’s kisses. Negan’s thrusts were fast at this point hitting everything just right enough to make your hips pull away from him. Biting into your bottom lip, you closed your eyes and felt everything shaking. Your body grew hot and you couldn’t believe just how good Negan delivered. “Well fuck, I’m going to have to be doing these clothes again tomorrow, aren’t I?”

“I am so sorry,” you apologized feeling Negan’s long fingers tracing lines over your wet sex after he had just drawn you to come and come hard. “I didn’t know I was capable of that.”

“You’re going to be having a lot of those now, so get used to them,” Negan’s fingers circled your sensitive clitoris before reaching back for his throbbing cock to let it enter you again. Teasing his lips over yours, Negan smiled and a wicked chuckle fell from his throat. “Never apologize for having those kind of orgasms. Ever. These clothes were doomed in the first place. I’m going to fill your pussy with my cum and I come a lot.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you curled your fingers around Negan’s neck, leading him back to you and in no time, he was back at pounding inside of you. “Fill me up.”

“I’m almost there,” Negan alerted you, his moans growing more frequent. Having Negan use your body in a way to bring out the most intense amount of pleasure for him brought forth so much joy for you. You felt him throbbing inside of you, but also at the same time you heard movement. “Fuck…”

Stretching his arm out, Negan grabbed one of the sheets that was hanging and yanked on it hard enough to bring it down. Pulling it in over the two of you, the sound of movement didn’t stop Negan’s incredibly powerful thrusts. His head tipped back, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when his thrusts started to falter with the way that he was moving. Crying out, you tipped your head back feeling the pulsating of his hard cock inside of you. It was followed by the warmth of his cum filling you and God did it feel good. You asked and Negan was delivering.

With his forehead pressed to yours, it felt like the world was spinning and he still kept up with his movements until the very end making sure that he filled you with every drop of his release. Laying over you, Negan kissed over the side of your neck and you held onto him loving the sounds of him breathing heavily.

“Negan?” a voice called out making Negan turn his head to see that Brandon was pushing through the sheets. When he saw the two of you together it made Brandon’s eyes immediately drop. “Oh shit. I am so sorry. Are…you…okay?”

“I’m fine,” you went to move, but Negan shook his head and hushed you. Negan was still very much inside of you, but you were surprised that he wasn’t at all worried with Brandon standing over you like that.

“Listen, kid…” Negan grumbled, his breathing still loud enough for him to have to pause while he was talking. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to have sex. Do you think I can bring this beautiful woman with me to my cell so we can finish up? I promise to have her out by sunrise. In fact, I will be ready to finish all of this in the morning.”

“Negan, you know I’m not supposed to do that,” Brandon’s eyes shifted before letting out a tight breath. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“Thanks kid. You’re a real lifesaver,” Negan gave an arrogant bob of his head and motioned Brandon to turn around. “Could you…”

“Of course,” Brandon immediately turned around and Negan was careful in the way that he managed to bring you up with him, keeping his cock still inside of you when he wrapped the sheet around the both of you to hide your naked bodies as much as possible.

“I know this is a lot, but could you bring our clothes to my cell?” Negan requested back stepping slowly to bring you with him. Thankfully you weren’t that far away from his cell, but it was incredibly awkward still being pressed body to body with him with his cock inside of you. Getting down the stairs was the hardest part. His release was felt escaping somewhat as you both tripped down onto the small cot that he had. With the noise it made, you were surprised that it didn’t break.

“Try to be quiet, okay?” Brandon requested dropping the clothes that he had picked up for both of you at the corner of the cell. “And if you get caught, I didn’t do this.”

“Yeah, you’re a fucking champ kid,” Negan muttered when Brandon closed the door behind him when he left and Negan’s snicker fell from his throat. There was a small lantern at the corner of his cell giving more light to it than there was outside. “That kid hero worships me for some reason. They thought they were punishing me by putting that kid on me, but he really would let me get away with everything.”

“Is there a reason you made us walk back to the room with your cock still inside of me?” you pondered seeing the arrogant smirk tug at Negan’s lips. Getting up carefully, Negan finally pulled his now softening length from your body watching the pool of his cum pour out of you. Collecting some of it over his fingertips, Negan pushed his fingers back inside of you to coat the walls of your pussy with it. It made you whimper and tip your head back. “Negan…”

“I wanted to see your pussy full of my cum,” Negan informed you using some of the cum that had pushed out to stroke it back and forth over the lengths of your sex. “Plus, I liked watching you squirm with my cock inside of you and a stranger near.”

“You’re crazy,” you noted with a purr noticing the way that Negan drew shapes over your lower abdomen after he pulled his fingers from your sensitive body.

“But you like it,” Negan commented, his wolfish smile expanding over his handsome features. “I also was able to buy us some time until morning. Give me about twenty minutes and I’ll be able to add to what’s already inside of you. That’s if you’re interested of course.”

“I won’t tell you no,” you reached for him, pulling him in over you on the small cot. Adjusting his weight, Negan made sure to lay over you in a way that kept you comfortable while he stroked his fingers over the side of your face. Peppering faint kisses at your lips made Negan hum with a happy smirk tugging at his lips. “Although this is pretty nice too.”

“So you’re both a romantic and a freak,” Negan teased with a wink, nuzzling his nose in against yours while he laid in over you. “That’s good to know because I am too. And I’ll happily cuddle you for as long as possible because I live for this kind of shit doll. You have made my fucking day. I hope you know that.”

#Negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan fanfiction #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan smut #Negan Smith

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bennyden · 8 months

Text

User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism

Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.

I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.

First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism.

I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it.

On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).

Not SFW content starts here.

Not SFW content over.

Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately.

“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.

“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.

My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:

If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.

If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.

In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now.

And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did.

After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping.

Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.

She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave.

Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.

Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:

“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”

(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).

“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”

“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”

So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.

‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’

Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.

I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.

She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.

What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us.

She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from.

Thanks for reading.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #reader fanfiction #prince aemond #plagiarism #android x reader #robot x reader #ao3 #aemond and reader smut

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loki-cees-all · 10 months

Note

Hello and hi, my lovely!

I have this scenario for you that I sometimes think about.

How would Loki react if you (the mortal he might have feelings for but he’s not quite certain yet) were the only one to acknowledge his birthday? Maybe you put up a few balloons and even buy him a little cupcake with a candle on it? How would he react?

Happiest of birthdays to you! You’re a joy to know!! I love you!! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Cupcake For a God {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : Loki’s birthday is approaching, and it forces himself to reconcile who he wants to be versus who he actually is, and to reflect on his almost certainly unrequited feelings for you.

But what if the feelings weren’t unrequited?

W/c : 1.9k words

Content/Warnings : Angst, a bit of fluff

Author's Note : I swear I tried so hard to make this not so angsty! Please forgive me, Saz! 😭😭😭

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

There were a lot of things for Loki to dislike about living on Midgard.

For starters, he was being forced to live there, inside Stark Tower with the other Avengers as penance for his crimes. It was only fitting, they’d told him, that he should assist in their efforts to keep the mortals safe because he was the reason they needed protecting in the first place.

Loki didn’t bother telling them what Thanos had done to him after he fell from the Bifrost; truthfully, he still didn’t quite understand it himself. That entire year was a blur to him - a painful concoction of lies and manipulations and tears and blood that left him unable to tell the difference between fact and fiction, even almost two years after the torture had began.

He didn’t want anyone to know how weak he was, about how much he’d lost himself. If they knew how vulnerable he was, they might decide he wasn’t worth the trouble and send him to the dungeons of Asgard instead.

Another thing he disliked was the forced pleasantries and unnecessary rituals humans had developed with each other, and by extension, him. The humans would smile as they past him by on the street, but it was a falsity every time; the sentiment never reached their eyes, and Loki could smell their fear from several blocks away.

Loki knew they didn’t actually care how his day was going, that their concern only went as far as making sure he wasn’t on the verge of invading with another alien force under his command. He wasn’t, but honestly, if it meant everyone kept their distance, then he wasn’t going to argue with it.

It wasn’t fair to say that Loki preferred being alone, but he was certainly used to it, and that was in direct contradiction of the forced socialization he had to endure on Midgard - press conferences, team building exercises (which Loki believed was just an excuse to consume copious amounts of food and drink), training sessions, something called “movie nights”, and missions across the world to dismantle S.H.I.E.L.D.’s various bunkers and bases.

It was so much talking, and even more listening. So much lying and pretending that everything was fine, that Loki didn’t feel like a caged monster, and that everyone else wasn’t waiting for the littlest thing to completely set him off.

But Loki was trying as hard as he could to ignore the dull ache that haunted his dreams and every waking moment. He knew he had hurt people, he knew he needed to make up for his grievous transgressions, but he didn’t know how else to make up for it all. So he pressed on, through the discomfort and awkwardness, in the hope that one day everything might become a little easier.

The one bright side to all of this, the one shimmering ray of light amidst the sea of gray, was you. Loki didn’t quite know what to make of his attraction to you - was it real, or was it just your absence of fear in his presence? Had it just been too long since he’d felt the touch of another, or were you actually everything he’d ever wanted?

Loki almost didn’t want to find out, in case it wasn’t real. Because your smile reached your eyes every time you looked at him, and your laughter was like sparks blowing across the embers of a dying fire…but he couldn’t shake the fear that it could just be another trick.

Perhaps his mind still hadn’t fully recovered from Thanos’ torture. Maybe Thor had put you up to this, as a way of making assimilation easier for him.

Because why else would you look at him like that? Why would you go out of your way to sit next to him during the team’s movie nights? Why else would you lean towards him on the couch and fall asleep against the shoulder of a villain, of a monster, of a fool?

It was stupid, and pointless, and illogical, and just like him to irrationally want something he couldn’t ever have. He was a God, and you were a mortal, and it would ultimately end in heartache either way. So while he had the chance, Loki forced himself to remain content and to just linger in the question of what if you could want him too.

The final thing about Midgard, and the one he despised the most, was the mortal obsession with birthdays. Loki was grateful the Asgardians never paid any attention to such silly and exhausting traditions - which was surprising, considering how much Asgardians loved frivolity.

So he really shouldn’t have been shocked when Thor discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, the concept of birthdays. His brother immediately requested his mortal companion Jane to perform the necessary calculations to determine the Midgardian equivalent of Thor’s birthdate - and Loki’s as well, which his brother gleefully announced to the entire team and embarrassed him to the deepest pits of his soul.

A massive celebration was planned for Thor, with enough food and drink to sustain a small country, and on the special night, flashing lights and loud music bathed the massive common room of Stark Tower in merriment and laughter. Everyone was invited, and it would have been rude for Loki to not make an appearance - but it wasn’t because he wanted to admire you in your party dress, although that was a very lovely bonus.

But as gorgeous as you looked - the longer the party went on, the sadder Loki became. Everyone was talking, smiling, and dancing, congratulating Thor on his many accomplishments and swapping happy stories of all the good times they’d had together. It was painful to witness, to know for a fact that no such party would be happening for himself when his birthday rolled around.

Loki tried telling himself that he didn’t want it, and that he’d be miserable during it. He tried convincing himself that it would be too loud, and too bawdy, and vain, and that he didn’t need other people’s reassurances that they were happy he was there with them. He told himself he didn’t need it at all, that he was completely fine without it. But it was a lie, so of course it didn’t work.

As the days approached to Loki’s birthday, he became even more withdrawn than usual. With the exceptions of necessary missions or training, he stopped leaving his room. He was silent during travel on the Quinjet, and refused your invitations to further movie nights, even though the disappointment on your face ripped him apart in ways he’d never experienced before.

He felt like he deserved to suffer, to collapse in on himself like a dying star because he knew he’d never be worthy of the love and attention his older brother seemed to collect so effortlessly. It wasn’t Thor’s fault; it was just Loki’s lot in life. And the further he receded, the more likely his heartache would be justified, and he couldn’t be surprised if he was already disappointed.

The evening of his birthday was the worst night he’d experienced in a long time, not since the day he let go of the Bifrost. Loki didn’t even come out of his room for dinner that night, choosing instead to feast on pain, and anguish, and regret, and all the feelings he hadn’t ever had the time to process over his thousand years of existence.

Thor tried several times to lure him out of his room, to no avail. Loki wouldn’t leave - no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t bring himself to witness the fact that they’d done nothing special for him, even though he’d be furiously uncomfortable if they did.

As the hours passed, he tried to distract himself with sleep, and then reading, but neither did the trick. Eventually, he curled up on the window seat of his private quarters, wrapped himself in furs and pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the tiny little mortals going about their nights in blissful ignorance of the god suffering fifty floors above them.

And Loki was so lost that he could barely respond to the cautious knock on his door, the one that threatened to pull him away from his misery. But his heart leapt in his throat when he heard your voice calling his name, and he wanted so much to let you in, to feel you next to him.

But the urge to say something cruel, to push you away and continue on alone, was just as strong. Loki didn’t know which to concede to, even as his feet slowly carried him to the door. He didn’t know what he was going to say, even while his fingers raked through his messy curls and rubbed the pain from his eyes.

He felt ridiculous as he hesitated to open the door; he was a God, and once the most fearsome villain this entire planet had ever seen - but here he was, nervous and split open and too raw to simply open a door and look upon a beautiful woman while he was hiding away from his birthday.

There was a soft rustling sound on the other side of the door, and Loki’s forehead rested against the wood as he heard your footsteps quietly retreating down the hallway. He’d waited too long, paralyzed by his self-indulgent indecision, and it had pushed you away.

He thought about yanking the door open and calling after you. He considered begging for you to come back. He desperately wanted to wrap his arms around you and to pull you closer, but all he could manage was to gently pull the door open after he was sure you were gone.

On the floor of the hallway, waiting patiently and comfortably for him, was a beautifully-decorated cupcake and a note resting on a small paper plate. A single candle rose out of the emerald and sapphire swirls of frosting, and the pink paper was folded in half, with his name written in the loveliest cursive on the outside.

Loki fought back tears as he retrieved the gift from the floor, and he cautiously balanced the plate in one hand while holding the note in the other.

Hey Loki,

I know birthdays are hard; they’re hard for me too. But hopefully this treat makes you smile, even just for a second.

I’ll be awake for a little while longer - stop by my room if you need to talk. I promise I won’t find it weird :)

XOXO

P.S. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not ready to accept that yet.

He swallowed hard as he stared at the most generous gift he’d ever received. He didn’t know if you even fully understood what you’d just done for him. He fervently wanted to go after you, and he desperately wanted to continue hiding.

But you’d extended an invitation, one he could feasibly take you up on. No one would argue it wasn’t in his right to do so. And Gods above, he wanted to, more than anything else he’d ever wanted. But would it be worth it, or would it just make everything worse?

Loki tore his damp and heavy eyes away from the note and glanced up and down the hallway. He shut his door, just as quietly as he’d opened it, wondering if it would be a mistake to allow his heart guide him to where he’d rather be.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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safarigirlsp · 17 days

Text

Never Whistle in the Woods

Flip Zimmerman x OC

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Violence. Monster Action. Cryptids. Creepy things that happen in the woods. Backcountry flavor. Just a nice getaway with Flip. Those never go according to plan. I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from @rynwritesstuff and @lumberjack00fantasies

AO3 Link

One of Flip’s favorite things was spending a secluded weekend out at his cabin, nestled in the forested mountains, away from the noise and mayhem of town. And away from people. Nothing cured a man’s love of humanity better than working with them. He enjoyed having a beer and a burger with his friends after work and he enjoyed taking his girl out to dinner. But he liked it a helluva lot more to take her with him into the mountains and not see or hear from another person for a couple days. Actually, it had become his favorite thing.

Knowing this, his girl, Kate, had booked him a nice getaway right up his alley. A solid week squirreled away in a truly remote cabin about as far away from humanity as he could get. It had taken a little online spelunking for her to land on the small town of Kitwanga, British Columbia, but its selling points of having a population of less than five-hundred, being a prime location for hunting and fishing, and being a true gateway to the wilderness with scarcely an outpost North between the little town and the Yukon, had sealed the deal. Besides, for the shrewd outdoorsman who wanted a less touristy experience with a friendlier populace for about a third of the money, British Columbia was a superior option to Alaska with all the same appeal.

Over-the-counter hunting licenses were available for all sorts of game that required a lottery draw or exorbitant fee in the States. Flip laughed when he read in the game regulations that it was strictly prohibited to shoot Bigfoot and that, should a sportsman encounter him, he was to be considered a protected species.

“How many big, hairy Canadians do you reckon had to get shot in the ass before they added that regulation?” He grinned at Kate, sitting with her legs curled under her on the seat of his rented truck as they bounced down the terrible excuse for a dirt road, sloshing in the mud and hitting potholes by the hundreds. Flip had twice hit his head on the bolt of the rifle secured in the headache rack above his head on the ceiling of the truck’s cab. He would have left the rifle inside their cabin, but they had been stringently warned not to take a step outside without it. Bears were a real threat and the animals here had little experience with humans, which meant little fear of them.

“Sounds like you better watch your own ass if you’re out wandering around in low light,” she teased back. “You’re big and lumbering enough to be mistaken for Bigfoot.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lot better lookin,’” he winked at her as he pulled into the only gas station in the tiny town. He filled up every day on their return in case the owner decided to take a day off. Electric pumps were a novelty that hadn’t reached this far north, it seemed. He was in a teasing mood, returning from a day of hiking and, as he put it, takin’ pictures of every goddamn thing in Canada.

“Depends on who you ask,” Kate laughed warmly. “I’ve waged a losing battle for quite a while trying to convince my friends you’re handsome. They tell me I’m blind or brainwashed.”

Five businesses in the tiny town were booming, frequented by most if not all of its citizens on a regular basis: the grocery store, post office, church, bar, and the gas station. Actually, Kitwanga boasted two bars. Flip figured this was a good insight as to the favorite pastime of the locals, especially since it doubled the churchgoers. There were no restaurants, but the bars had all the haute cuisine a man could want, so long as what he wanted was a cheeseburger or a sandwich or some chicken fried steak. However, one bar generously offered to cook anything a person brought in, provided the thing was somewhere between alive and kicking and starting to turn, and provided that gastronome paid in cash. Flip had already taken the owner and bartender up on this offer and handed over several trout he had caught that day to the owner’s wife and cook to fry for dinner. He had to admit it was some of the best fried fish he had ever had, and it paired wonderfully with the potent Moose Knuckle stout beer on tap.

The sign at the gas station read, Headed north? Need gas? It’s now or never. Two lonely gas pumps sat on a rectangle of cement on the otherwise muddy ground – the kind of pumps a person usually only saw on postcards from the fifties, with the rounded tops and numbers for cost and gallons that ticked by on a dial like an old one-armed-bandit style slot machine. A hand-scrawled sign in the window listed the hours vaguely as open from dawn ‘til dusk. An uninformed observer could easily mistake the business for being abandoned, or even condemned, a relic lingering in a ghost town. But for the metropolis of Kitwanga, it was a thriving business. There was even another vehicle at the pumps, a ’79 Ford truck with a lift and a winch on its bumper and a fat man in overalls leaning against the bed, pumping gas.

Flip stepped out of his truck and lifted the nozzle of the gas pump with a rusty squeal. He admired the view of his girl as she trotted into the gas station to forage for supplies. A brisk wind rustled his hair, tinged with chilled moisture. Above, low clouds in a grayscale palette churned in the sky. The snowy tops of the mountains were hidden inside the clouds and rain slashed across their facades in a grey haze. The rain hadn’t yet reached the foothills where the town and Flip’s rented cabin were nestled, but fog was creeping in from the base of the mountains and off a nearby river. Between the thunderclouds and the fog, it was as if the world was slowly closing in, like the vignette on a Bogart movie narrowing in on the dramatic eyes of a starlet.

Tilting his face up into the chilly air, Flip smiled. He loved rain and thunderstorms, and found peace in their chaos. Mainly, he loved holding his girl while a storm raged outside, or having a drink with her while they sat on the porch and felt the electricity in the air, and making love to her and feeling her shudder thunderously beneath him. His smile widened as he anticipated the evening ahead.

“Storm’s comin,’” the man at the pump said to Flip as he spat a string of brown tobacco into the mud. “You here for huntin’ or fishin?’”

“I’m mostly just here to take a break from everyday bullshit,” Flip replied in a friendly tone. “But I have tags for fishing and tags for bear and moose in case one happens to wander in front of me.”

“Storms are bad for fishin,’” the man said, nodding knowingly. “But they can be good for huntin.’ Storms bring the animals down from the big mountains. Moose especially like the mist and bears like to hunt in the rain when their prey can’t hear and see ‘em as good.”

“Good to know.” Flip smiled as he replaced the nozzle and turned to go inside and pay his tab.

“That your girl?” the man asked with a suggestive nod toward the gas station.

“That she is.” Flip turned to face the man, wondering if he’d end up getting in a fist fight while on vacation.

Not taking the hint, the man whistled appreciatively.

Flip decided the rube meant it as a compliment, so he simply agreed with a “Yup,” and went into the gas station. Kate had been suspiciously long inside anyway, something that nagged at the part of his mind that was always an officer on duty.

Inside the dingy little gas station, Flip saw his girl leaning against the counter engaged in an affable conversation with the attendant behind the counter, a squat older man with a heavily lined face and long silver hair in a braid hanging over his shoulder down to his gut. Flip wandered through the store, grabbing a few items that struck his fancy, some beef jerky, chips, candy bars, and other assorted junk food. At the back of the store, a menagerie of terrible taxidermy watched him with glassy eyes. Above the beverage coolers that lined the wall hung several deer and caribou and two enormous moose. A life-size grizzly bear stood on its hind feet in a corner, frozen mid-snarl, its head a solid three feet above Flip’s. He looked at its paws that were larger than his head and vicious curling claws, longer and thicker than his fingers. Facing such a beast, the gun he had in his truck now seemed very feeble. He grabbed a six-pack of stout beer bottles and an over-sized bottle of cheap wine and took his loot to the counter to pile it alongside Kate’s items.

“Have you heard about the wendigo?” Kate asked Flip when he joined her at the counter. The lilt in her voice told him she was highly amused. “My new friend was just telling me about it.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that the name of that stripper I arrested last year for blackmailing the mayor?” Flip smirked. “Wendy-Go?”

“He’s an idiot, I’m sorry,” Kate apologized to the man behind the counter, simultaneously elbowing Flip in the ribs. “Please ignore him and continue.”

The attendant gave Flip a sideways look and continued talking to Kate in a slow, backcountry drawl, “It is said the wendigo were people once, but now they are cursed. A wendigo is born during times of famine or in the harshest winter. When men are starving to death in the cold. When a man is weak, and he chooses the black path of cannibalism over death, butchering his fellows to save himself. When a man eats the flesh of another, he takes a curse upon himself. The wendigo lives in constant starvation, its body emaciated and rotting, only growing hungrier the more it eats. Its hunger can never be sated and it becomes a crazed beast with an insatiable bloodlust.”

“Is this insatiable bloodlust specific to tourists?” Flip asked sarcastically.

“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, unbothered. “It looks to punish those with greed in their hearts. Or, depending on which stories you believe, it seeks people who are like-minded to itself to build its own tribe.” He eyed Flip narrowly. “So, if a tourist is out greedily mining or wantonly slaughtering game, then yes, the wendigo will come for him.”

“Slaughtering is one of the few things I never do wantonly,” Flip deadpanned and slapped some cash down on the counter.

“You should be careful, son,” the old man told Flip seriously. “There are many ways a man can be greedy. He can be greedy for his woman and covetous of her.” Then he shrugged again. “But these are nothing more than old tales.”

“So, you don’t believe in the wendigo?” Kate asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s real. I’ve seen a wendigo twice. He has antlers taller than a caribou and wider than a moose, teeth like a wolf, and only skull sockets for eyes. But they glow. It’s the glow I remember most,” the man said genuinely as he counted out change. “I just don’t know if he was once a man, or something that was never human at all. Maybe the people who first came here created a myth to explain the monster rather than created a mythical monster themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a convenient way to scare pretty, gullible girls.” Flip smirked at Kate. Then he returned his attention to the cashier. “Let me guess, there’s something that wards off the wendigo? A silver crucifix or whatever? I bet we can buy it right here.”

“Nothing wards off the wendigo,” the man scoffed. “And he is far older than your crucifix. Why would a forest god bow to a stranger on a cross? Fire can stall him, maybe even frighten him, but it can only buy you time.” He looked outside the window at the building storm. “Not good weather for making a fire if you need it.”

“Damn shame.” Flip shook his head and began collecting their provisions in his arms. There were no courtesy bags.

“We do have flares,” the man suggested innocently. “They burn in any kind of weather, even underwater. All the bush pilots carry them.”

“Probably inside their emergency monster-hunting kit alongside the stakes for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves,” Flip laughed. “Go ahead. Load us up with some flares. Consider it a tip for a good campfire story.”

“It’s always smart to be prepared,” the man agreed as he placed two bundles of six red flares apiece on the counter and rang them up. They looked like bundles of dynamite.

Kate took the flares because Flip’s arms were already overfilled. She thanked the attendant and turned to leave.

The old man grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her and causing Flip’s hackles to rise. He spoke seriously, “Don’t whistle when you’re out in the woods. Whistling will summon the wendigo. Sometimes people hear whistling too, before it comes for them.”

“And these people who hear the whistling before it gets them,” Flip said as he edged his body between Kate and the counter and nudged her toward the exit. “They walk out of the woods to tell their story, huh?”

*******************************************************************************************

Their log cabin for the week was almost an hour’s drive from the gas station. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the road was serpentine with switchbacks as it climbed the foot of the mountains and made even slower by soupy mud. It was set deep in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees with trunks as thick as the truck’s bed. The sun set on their drive back. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the landscape glowed a shade of hazy purple only seen in the alpine. The clouds were the color of gunpowder and the rainy vapor was periwinkle. The spruce turned into an army of nearly black silhouettes with a light mist writhing among them as moisture rose from the damp ground as well as drizzled gently from the sky. The drifting mist made everything look as though it were moving. It gave the illusion of eldritch shapes in the trees creeping along the edges of vision and tree limbs grasping like clawed fingers as they swayed in the breeze.

Flip hit the brakes suddenly, slamming Kate forward in her seat and knocking her out of the reverie the gloaming forest had cast over her. A black shape froze in the muddy road a few yards ahead of them. Its eyes sparked cold white in the headlights and the fur on its back was raised aggressively.

“A wolf!” Flip said excitedly. “I’ve never seen one this close.”

The huge animal was coal black, its amber eyes reflecting white in the headlights in the way wolves eyes do. It stood frozen, staring down the vehicle, acting like the truck was a new creature intruding into the wolf’s territory. Something was wrong with its silhouette. Something with its mouth. It took several seconds for Kate to realize what it was. The wolf turned its head uncertainly, deciding whether it should continue on its way across the road or turn around from the metal beast with offense headlights. A dead rabbit dangled from its jaws, its legs swinging lifelessly and ears flopping limply. Its lifeless eyes glinted a dull red.

The simple reminder of nature’s brutality unnerved Kate unexpectedly and her hands felt suddenly cold. She gripped Flip’s hand, digging her nails into his palm with irrational harshness.

“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” he teased and grinned at her, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Some redneck at the gas station told me that predators liked to hunt in the rain. Guess he was right.”

Night had veiled the forest with its velvety black cloak by the time they parked next to the porch of their cabin. It was silent enough to hear all the noises of the forest, from the chattering birds to the subtle rustling of deer browsing in the brush to moisture pattering lightly on the ground. A great horned owl as large as a man’s torso sat perched in a tree branch hanging near the roof of the cabin, its yellow eyes glittering like moonlight as it hooted an eerie cadence. It followed them with its yellow eyes as they unloaded the truck and carried their loot inside, its head turned almost fully backward like a creature possessed.

There was no light pollution and on a clear night, the moon and stars lit the forest bright enough to see easily. On a rainy night, moisture in the air brought out all the smells of the forest, the crisp spruce, the earthy soil, the embers in the fireplace. The cabin had no electric lines and was powered by a temperamental generator and a wood stove. A woodpile was stacked against the back of the cabin, complete with a large timber axe embedded in a nearby stump. Cell service was laughable. Flip loved everything about all of that. He was pleased it had running water, however, mainly because it would have greatly impacted his sex life if it didn’t.

Flip grilled steaks outside that night before the rain hit and they had dinner on the porch, counting lightning bolts. Then they tangled around each other in front of the fireplace, making love as the flames crackled and danced and the thunder rolled. Between dinner and fooling around several times, they finished the bottle of wine and opened another. Night fell early this far north in the autumn and the nights were long. The cabin was equipped with a tv, but it was one of those terrible old boxy things with a tiny screen and antennas. The antennas were only for show since there was no service. Instead, there was a vcr and a selection of campy nineties movies and some even campier porn. It seemed to defeat the purpose of being there to even bother with the tv. They hadn’t turned it on once.

“I’m wide awake,” Kate mused, propped up on Flip’s bare chest, looking down at him. “Let’s do something.”

“I have plenty of ideas,” Flip said huskily. “They’re all sure to wear you out.”

“We’ve tried your ideas. Several times. And I’m still far from worn out.” She smiled. “We’re here in a cabin, basically having a sleepover. Let’s play some sleepover games, the kind you play as idiot teenagers or in sororities in college.”

“I think girls have a lot wilder sleepovers than boys. And my experience with sororities is limited to sneaking in and out of them, so you’ll have to be more specific.” He ran his fingertips along her spine and kissed her throat, doing his best to interest her in another round.

“Later, you animal,” she laughed and shoved his face away while pushing herself up and off him. “You know what I mean. Sleepover games. Like Bloody Mary, or playing a Ouija Board, or the Midnight Game.”

“Packed a Ouija Board, did you?” he teased. “That would explain why your suitcase weighs fifty fuckin’ pounds.”

“I don’t think ghosts care whether or not you use a name brand.” She pinched his chest, making him flinch.

“What ghosts are you gonna find out here?” He squinted as he rubbed his chest. “The Donner Party?”

“Don’t you think they’d be fun to talk to? We can try Bloody Mary. I don’t think she has a centralized location,” she teased and pulled on her discarded pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. She threw Flip’s grey sweatpants at him. “Put that thing away or it might scare off the ghosts.”

Flip grumbled more protests under his breath, but he dressed in his sweats and a thermal henley. “How about we each stand in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights off. I’ll ask for Candyman. You ask for Bloody Mary. And we’ll have a Celebrity Death Match between vengeful ghosts?”

“You know the ghosts always get the cynics and the cocky shitheads first, right?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a faux reprimand.

“Is that a rule?” Flip grinned. “I think the ghosts go for the morally corrupt woman who can’t keep her legs closed first. You’re in trouble, sugar.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with finality.

“How about we play a fun game, like spin the bottle or truth or dare?” He winked at her. “I always pick dare. Do your worst.”

“I can’t imagine where a game of truth or dare with you would lead.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

Flip puffed his chest and stepped closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. “I have a better idea. You have some pretty big balls for a pretty little girl. Let’s see how big they really are.”

“Oh my god, Flip, if this is another ploy to explore that region further…” she laughed.

“Everything I do is some kinda means to that end.” He smirked. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, let’s go outside and whistle at the wendigo. There should be some of those sonsabitches around these parts.”

Flip went to the door and stepped into his muddy boots. He leaned against the doorframe, casually cocky, and raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge. “How ‘bout it, hot stuff?”

“I think we’d be better off trying to summon Bloody Mary than a wendigo,” Kate said hesitantly. “Plus, it will be cold out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “How do you figure that trying to summon a ghost through our bathroom mirror would be safer than trying to call in a wendigo? At least a wendigo will stay outside. Besides, I know how psycho you’d get if I let another woman into our bedroom. Dead or alive. Don’t try to set me up, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kate pulled her coat on and slipped her phone into its pocket, feeling the bundle of flares she had absently pocketed at the gas station. There was no service, but its flashlight might come in handy outside. Grinning, Flip picked up the rifle that was leaning against the doorframe and slung it over his shoulder. Cocky though he was, he took the advice serious about the threat of bears and always having a gun on him out here in the wilderness. He held the door open for Kate and ushered her outside.

The air was thick with humidity but the rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the moisture on the air to chill their skin and turn their breath into ghostly thick fog. The porch was covered in slushy frost as bright as diamonds. Their boot prints left skeletal black outlines on the otherwise pristine frosty canvas as they descended the steps and walked into the forest that awaited them only yards away.

Flip offered Kate his arm and led her into the trees. The old growth forest felt like being inside a fairytale, surrounded by enormous tree trunks and relatively open ground at their bases. The roots of those great trees were so thirsty, they leeched most of the nutrients and left little for brush and scrub to encroach. After the rain, the ground was muddy and slick, with frost growing denser by the minute as the temperature dropped through the night.

Filling his lungs, Flip began whistling a terribly off-key tune as he walked through the woods. His casual swagger was the same as if he were taking his girl out for a stroll in the park. Kate winced when he struck a particularly loathsome note, and squinted her eyes at him, “What in the hell are you whistling?”

“Season of the Witch,” he replied, acting offended. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I like the song, I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to it,” she laughed. “We’re not going to find any wendigo if you scare them all off with that horrendous noise.”

“I don’t hear you doing any better,” he scoffed.

Mainly in an attempt to save her ears from his screeching, Kate started whistling. She teased Flip first with her best wolf whistle. Smells were heightened in the damp air but sounds were muffled. In the silence of the forest, the whistle sounded unnaturally loud. Now that Flip wasn’t making noise himself, he found himself focusing more on his surroundings. He didn’t feel right, something he couldn’t put his finger on tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that noises were muffled by the dampness in the air, but something else that he found indefinable in that moment. He told himself it was just the product of being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation that he found unsettling. The size of trees still seemed monstrous to him, and the smell of spruce instead of the familiar smell of pine must have been unsettling to his subconscious. And it probably didn’t help that he had cultivated a little buzz drinking wine for the past few hours.

A light gust of wind blew into his face and all of his senses sparked with alarm. He froze in place, seizing Kate’s arm to silence her whistling. The unmistakable scent of a wet animal hit his nose with the force of a slap in the face. Quickly evaluating his surroundings, he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest in high port. It would take him less than a second to aim and fire. But the forest was close around them, visibility limited to fifteen feet or so in any direction. If the animal was a predator, a bear or a mountain lion, it could cover that distance in less than a heartbeat if it wanted. He could still see the faint glow of the cabin’s lights. They hadn’t gone far, but there was no chance of outrunning an animal back to safety.

A heavy footfall sounded inside the trees ahead of them, muffled on the wet ground but distinctive. Straining his ears, Flip thought he heard a branch being brushed aside by something passing by it. Whatever it was, it was very close ahead of them. Flip’s thoughts raced, less cohesive and more a rush of images of nightmare scenarios that he weighed in an instant. He could hide himself and Kate behind one of the huge tree trunks and hope the animal passed them by. But whatever it was had to already know of their presence. If his feeble senses could hear and smell the animal, it had no doubt smelled and heard him much sooner. In that case, he decided it was best to hold his ground and meet whatever it was head on, straight down the barrel of his rifle. That would give them the best chance. Flip would have to make his shot count, and he’d probably only get one, but it was a decent chance.

Stepping in front of Kate, Flip raised his rifle to his shoulder. He kept both eyes open, not limiting his focus to only what was past the end of his barrel, but trying to expand his senses to the full spectrum of forest in front of him. He heard a heavy breath, something panting. Closer now. Flip clicked off the safety and tightened his finger on the trigger. The hardest skill for a hunter to learn, especially when hunting game that hunted him back, is to wait long enough for a good shot but not so long as to let it get him. He wouldn’t waste his shot until he saw his target clearly and could be sure of putting the bullet where it would matter most. His hold on the gun was rock steady, his breath stalled, his eyes unblinking.

The panting grew in volume until it seemed to drum in his ears. Odd for a stalking predator. Before Flip could reconcile that, a bear burst from the trees only feet in front of him. A huge grizzly bear lumbering toward him on all fours, the top of its humped shoulders taller than Flip’s head. His finger tensed, less than a millimeter of movement was required to fire. But something was off with the bear. It was panting heavily, saliva dripping from its open mouth and fog snorting in bursts from its wet nose. The bear stopped short at the sight of the man with a gun right in front of it, clearly surprised, very unlike a predator who had been stalking the man. Flip hesitated. If he didn’t kill the bear immediately with one shot – drop it right in its tracks – it would maul them both before it died. If the bear wasn’t hunting him, it was a foolish risk to take. Grizzlies were not commonly hunting predators; they were scavengers and fishers. Most people who were mauled by grizzlies had either gotten between a mother and her cubs or a bear and its food, or they had startled it like waking a grumpy old man.

Sniffing the air, the bear looked at Flip. He was so close he could see the small particles of moisture the bear blew out of its nose along with steam when it snorted. The bear’s little round ears flicked, one turning backward to listen behind it. The bear’s eyes were wide, showing white, in a nervous gesture that was common to both man and beast. The bear looked back over its shoulder and then broke into a gallop. Flip’s rational mind told him to shoot, but his instinct prevented him. The bear altered course enough to avoid running straight into Flip. It paid him no further mind at all, instead running right by him. Flip followed it with the barrel of his rifle as it passed by him so close that a string of white saliva landed on the rifle’s blue-black barrel.

Turning around about face, Flip followed the bear with his sights until it was well past them and showed no signs of turning back around. He looked back toward the place the bear had come from, still holding the rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kate when he told her, “Walk back to the cabin. Don’t run, but go now.”

“You want me to follow the bear?” she hissed. “He ran toward the cabin. I don’t want to get near him again.”

“Follow the bear,” Flip gritted. “If a bear’s runnin’ from something, we’d best do the same. He didn’t care about us anyway. Now, move.”

Uncertainly, Kate turned and retreated toward the cabin. They hadn’t gone that far, after all. Flip backed after her, keeping his rifle aimed into the black forest from which the bear had run. A shrill scream splintered the silence, starker than a bolt of lightning. Kate shuddered and Flip ducked, hunching his shoulders like he had taken a punch. The scream shrilled for several seconds, wavering on a blood-curdling note before trailing away. It echoed around them, seeming to float on the mist.

“That’s just an elk bugling,” Flip said, trying to calm Kate. Maybe it was in fact an elk, a sickly, ravenous elk. “Keep moving, slowly.”

“I’ve never heard an elk that sounded like that.” Kate shivered against more than the chilled air. “This is starting to scare the hell out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off of it when we get back,” Flip tried to joke but he couldn’t muster the required lewdness, his mouth was too dry.

The howling scream burst again through the forest. It was something like an elk bugle, but more howling and rasping, with a sort of growling mingled in at the end as it trailed away. It was closer now. Flip felt as much as heard it reverberate inside his skull.

“Whatever that is, it’s not an elk.” Kate had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to prevent herself from being overtaken by tremors.

“Sure, it is,” Flip lied. “They probably just grow ‘em bigger up here.”

Kate blew out a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her steps slow and steady.

“Pick up the pace a little, darlin,’” Flip rasped.

“You said not to run,” Kate hissed.

“I didn’t say to crawl either!” Flip gritted. “This is one hell of a time for you to start listening to me.”

Instead of moving faster, Kate stopped short. So suddenly, Flip bumped into her as he walked backward. A branch snapped somewhere inside the forest. It was strangely loud. Flip realized then that the snap only sounded harsh because the forest had gone utterly silent. The hundreds of small noises from birds and insects were gone. Even the drops of water falling from tree branches seemed to have stopped. The forest felt like a living thing around them, possessed of a presence all its own. Now that presence was altered into something darker and ominous.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flip’s voice had dropped to a whisper without his conscious approval. “I said keep moving. We’re not far from the cabin.”

“Turn around.” Kate’s voice trembled.

Dropping the rifle for a moment, Flip looked back over his shoulder. His nerves must be playing tricks on his eyes. He turned fully around, holding the rifle at high port across his chest. The view of the forest that met him was foreign. It wasn’t the same forest they had walked through only minutes before. The trees were more skeletal, their grasping branches more cloying. Moss hung from the branches like the lank hair of a corpse, and the ground was spongy underfoot, as if the forest was rotting around them. Even the air smelled stale and moldy. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the forest in patches like a stop-motion movie. Most unsettling of all, the comforting glow of the cabin lights that could be seen through the trees had vanished or been snuffed out.

“What the fuck…” Flip’s voice trailed away as he took in the strangeness of their surroundings. A burst of lightning brought the forest into focus for a gleaming second. Bizarre shapes hung in the trees like a macabre abomination of Christmas tree ornaments, figures made from twigs lashed together with sinew to form pentagrams and humanoid shapes and horned beings. Flip swallowed thickly and ignored them. “We couldn’t have gotten turned around so fast.”

“We didn’t.” Kate looked around frantically. “I could see the cabin lights, then I heard that horrible bugle and looked around for it. And then the lights were gone. They couldn’t have all gone out, not all at once.”

“Lightning must have struck the cabin,” Flip lied again. Nothing about the forest looked familiar to him now and everything about it felt wrong. “Must have shorted out the lights.” There was no reason to scare Kate more than she already was. “It’s alright, we don’t need lights for what I have in mind when we get back.”

The scent of wet dog hit Flip again on a gust of wind, yanking his attention in the direction of the odor. He saw a heap of dark fur, glistening from the spotty rain and aimed his rifle at the creature. It didn’t move. Steam rose from the furry mass. Flip noted another smell on the air, something with a coppery aftertaste that coated the roof of his mouth. He edged forward, looking at the steaming animal down the barrel of his rifle, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire. He recognized the beast when another bolt of lightning revealed the horror to him.

“Don’t look,” he said to Kate, but it was too late. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from escaping.

The huge grizzly bear they had encountered minutes before lay on its side in a broken heap of matted fur. Steam spiraled into the air from its torn-open belly, its entrails protruding from the mangled tissue like uncooked sausage. The gaping wound was only minutes old. The bear’s body temperature would plummet rapidly in the frigid air and it was still warm now. Even as they stared, the steam began to abate. Hanging in the branches of the tree nearest the bear carcass were several more bizarre figures crafted from twigs.

The screeching growling bugle erupted again, very close this time. Flip nudged Kate ahead, keeping his rifle at the ready, but not knowing where to aim it.

“Which way do we go?” Her breath came in shuddering puffs of fog.

“I don’t know,” Flip admitted. “Away from here.”

Amid a stand of spruce to his side, bare tree branches swayed in the wind, their spiky fingers waving ominously. Flip hadn’t noticed the wind pick up. Looking at the oddly swaying branches, he realized there was no wind. The air had gone as still as the inside of a crypt. The strange branches were bare, glistening wet and pointed upward, still swaying.

A flash of lightning illuminated the creature and Flip flinched so hard he almost fired accidentally.

What he had taken for bare branches was a set of enormous antlers, shaped somewhere between a moose and a caribou and as large as an Irish elk, with wide paddles and long spiked tines spurting out non-typically like broken fingers. It had a dark mane like an elk with a tawny, painfully emaciated body. Flat tines of several spinal processes protruded through the hide at the top of its high withers and one hip bone showed through the skin. But its head was the most terrible of all. Its face was in an advanced stage of rot, dregs of sagging flesh barely clinging to the skull. White skull bone gleamed in exposed patches, and its sharp, lupine teeth were long in the exposed jawbone and ragged. Its nasal cavity was bare, the fleshy nose rotten away, leaving only the pointed bones and a black hollow. It had no eyes that Flip could see, but there was an evil gleam inside its sockets, like embers inside a pile of ash. The monster shook its head, slinging water from its great spiked antlers. Then it leveled its head like a bull about to charge and fixed its glowing eyes on Flip.

“Shoot it,” Kate whispered, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t think it’ll do any good.” Flip looked down the barrel at the rotting flesh covering the walking skeleton and white bone peeking from beneath. The monster’s glowing eyes were not something found among the living. Without lowering his rifle, he looked at Kate and met her eyes. “It’ll come for me first. I’ll make sure of that, and I’ll stall it as much as I can. Get to the truck, darlin.’ The keys are in it. Run like hell.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she said vehemently, her voice losing some fervor when the creature took an ominous step closer, its enormous antlers swaying with its gait.

She felt for her phone, hoping there might be service. Not that another human could even reach them in less than an hour, making any idea of help hopeless. Her hand closed around the lumpy bundle of flares. With an excited breath, she freed a flare from the bundle and fumbled with lighting it.

The monster bugled angrily, a sound so shrill it felt like it grated along their spines. It rushed toward them through the trees, its teeth bared and eyes aflame. Flip fired, sending a bullet right between those glowing eyes. He even saw the bullet strike and tear away more rotting flesh, leaving a pearly white hole in the skull. It didn’t slow the monster or even make it flinch. He bolted another round into the chamber on instinct, staring down the barrel at the demonic eyes that were fixed upon him.

Kate popped the cap off the flare. The cap had an abrasive tip like a matchhead and she struck it to the end of the flare, holding it high as it burst to life. With their eyes accustomed to the darkness, the flare seemed as bright as sunlight, searing black pulsing spots into their vision. The monster squealed again, shaking its head with pain or irritation. Its antlers caught in the tree branches, stalling its advance. The flare burned and popped, hot on Kate’s face even at arm’s length and blindingly bright.

The landscape around them crackled and wavered, like a tv signal trying to come in through static. The trees looked less skeletal and more normal, like they had been before, and the strange twig figures vanished. The cabin lights glowed through the trees, yellow and warm, not far from them.

“It’s in our heads!” Kate shouted. “It’s making us hallucinate, but I can see the cabin and the truck now.”

“The light bothers it,” Flip said as he reached into her coat pocket, grabbing three flares and leaving her the remaining two. The monster wrenched its antlers free of the branches where it was tangled and lurched toward them in a shambling gait.

Shouldering his rifle that was of no more use than a club against the monster, Flip bit the cap off a flare with his teeth and struck the head. He rammed the end into the muddy ground at his feet, leaving the tip burning. The beast reared, shrieking with rage and clawing the air with its cloven hooves as Flip backed away. He could see the glow of the cabin lights now too. It was hard to resist the urge to run to the light.

Flip lit the next flare. Kate was a few yards ahead of him, gaining ground toward the truck. It would take whoever reached it first a minute to start it. Flip had a good throwing arm and even better aim. The monster lunged at him, rage overriding whatever else had been driving it to pursue them so far. Flip drew back his arm, took a second to aim at the gaping black jaws, and threw the lit flare as hard as he could. The flaming tip cartwheeled through the air like a throwing knife before the fiery head struck the monster right where its nose should have been. But it had no nose, its nasal cavity was exposed in its partially skeletal head. Robin Hood could not have struck a finer bullseye. The flaming tip sank deep into the nasal cavity, embedding itself there.

Screaming terribly, the wendigo shook its head and stomped its hooves, rearing and bucking like a horse that had stepped on a hornet’s nest. It couldn’t shake the flare free from its skull. The flames spread, shooting out through holes in the rancid flesh of its cheeks and jaws. It looked as though it breathed fire when it screeched, belching flare fumes and flames out of its hacking mouth.

“We’re not gonna get a better chance than this!” Flip roared at Kate as he burst into a run toward her. She had a few paces head start on him and sprinted ahead toward the truck.

Kate reached the truck first, yanking the driver’s door open and jumping inside. Flip could bitch about her driving all he wanted, but she dared not spare the extra second or two for him to take the wheel. Not with the eldritch monster galloping toward them, bugling terribly, flames bellowing from its mouth and nose. Flip had his one remaining flare in hand when he reached the truck. The engine roared to life.

Instead of joining Kate inside the cab, Flip vaulted into the truck bed and shouted for her to drive. Kate slammed the truck into gear, throwing Flip against the side of the bed. Regaining his balance, he dropped to his knees and planted his back against the rear window, making himself as steady as he could. Kate was speeding as fast as she dared down the muddy, winding road, and it wasn’t fast enough. The wendigo pursued them, galloping after the truck and gaining ground. Striking the tip of his flare, Flip held the flaming tip aloft, casting the entire truck in a halo of searing red fire. The wendigo allowed more distance between them, smart enough to keep outside of throwing range of another flare.

Kate took a slippery curve too fast, the truck fishtailing as she recovered control, slinging Flip from one side of the bed to the other. The flare was nearly whipped from his hand, but he clenched his fist tight to keep his hold. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself, using all his strength to keep his balance and keep his arm held high. He couldn’t afford to lose a flare. They only had three flares left, and it was going to take every last burning second of each one to reach town.

*******************************************************************************************

Tagging some buddies!

@babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrszimmerman24 @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @reylokisses @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @thepalaceofmelanie @reveluving @vedavan @queen-of-elves @srorgana1 @kyloremus @lumberjack00fantasies

#best #fic #halloween #my stuff!#my writing #flip #adventurer #flip zimmerman x reader #flip zimmerman x you

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badkitty3000 · 8 months

Text

The Download:

Five Hargreeves x Female Reader

It's the end of the world and everyone you know is gone. After you find yourself at the Hotel Obsidian, you realize you have something in common with the rest of the remaining population. When Number Five takes a particular interest in you, and your special ability, the evening turns into much more than you expected.

The universe may be hours away from imploding, but you and Five are going out with a bang.

Chapters 3, 4, 5 (complete)

WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL DEPICTIONS AHEAD!

Link to Chapters 1 and 2

Link to my AO3 Works

Chapter Three: Inside You

This artwork is also posted with KayBreezy's Bad Things. It's so good it works for both stories!

On that note, you pushed Five back so that he landed on the bed, sprawled out and staring up at you with anticipation as you leaned down, hovering over him so that your breasts were tantalizingly close to his face. As he ran his hands up your sides and back down again, you gave him one long, hard kiss before pulling away again.

“Are you going to keep teasing me all night or are we going to do this?” he asked. You could tell he was trying to be snarky but with his harsh breathing, it came off more desperate. Which you loved.

Nodding and giving him a sly smile, you stood up and closed your eyes. “Be forewarned. It’s about to get a little kinky up in your brain.”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you heard Five breathe out a quiet laugh. You concentrated, going inside your brain and gathering up all the files you wanted him to have. And there were quite a lot. Things that you had experienced with others that you liked and things that you were curious about trying. You thought quickly about the basics of sex and made a little tutorial that he could use, as well.

But the biggest file was filled with all of the things you were dying to have Five do to you. You wanted him to know exactly where to touch you, and how you liked it; how you wanted to be taken. But only by him. Because for some reason, you were dying to have him unleash himself on you. And you wanted him to be the last man you fucked before the world ended.

The golden orb floated in the air between you, growing bigger as your thoughts collected inside. Only a few seconds had passed and it was filled with everything you wanted him to know. With another push from your mind, the orb was absorbed into Five and his eyes briefly glowed with a golden light.

It took just a moment of him taking in everything before he sat up on the bed, feet still on the floor. A lustful smile slowly crossed his face and his eyes darkened. The sudden change had you on edge, like a rabbit cornered by a wolf and you watched anxiously as he stripped off his jacket, vest, and tie. But when he reached up, softly kissing your lips as he guided you back onto the bed, your body immediately relented to his touch; the sense of danger replaced by want.

And fuck, did you want him. You’d never wanted anything or anyone this badly in your life. How had this happened? How had this snarky, arrogant, man-child taken you apart so easily? Maybe it was his eyes, or just the way he looked at you with all that intensity. Maybe it was the pent-up rage inside of him that you could feel dying to get out. Or maybe it was the pure fucking audacity he had to assume you’d just fall into bed with him. Which he was right about, but still.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your mouth.

His gratitude was oddly sincere and you kissed him in return, looping your arms around his shoulders and running your nails lightly down his back, feeling the warmth of his skin underneath his shirt.

“You gave me a lot to work with here, but I think I’m up for the challenge.”

Five had pulled away, a sly smile creeping across his face when he looked your body up and down as you laid underneath him. You matched his smile with your own.

“Then you better get to work. Because last I checked, the world was still ending and I’d liked to be fucked at least one more time before it does.”

He grabbed your ass, hard with one hand, while the other held his body over yours. He ground his hips into you and you could feel his obvious erection rubbing against your leg.

“Sweetheart, when the world finally ends, you’re going to be so fucked out, you won’t even notice.”

Your opportunity to respond with another witty comeback was cut short when you felt Five’s hand in your hair, gently tugging your head back, and his mouth on your neck. After a few soft kisses, you felt his teeth dig into your skin as he bit down. It wasn’t a hard bite, more like he was experimenting with you. But it was enough to send a quick flash of electricity down your spine and you arched your neck back, letting out a small whine.

It was playing right into his arrogance, letting him get the best of you like that, but you didn’t really care. Every touch of his hand or mouth on your body felt so fucking good, and if inflating his ego a little bit meant you could get more, then you sure as hell weren’t going to do anything to stop it. You could feel how he broke into a self-satisfied smile as he continued to tease you with small nips to your neck, your fingers digging a little harder into his shoulders.

“Since I suddenly seem to know that you want me to mark you all over, I assume you gave me that little insight?” he asked, his teeth and tongue tracing a line under your jaw.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“And can I also assume that request was meant only for me?”

You sucked in a sharp breath as he moved to your collarbone with a sucking kiss. “Yes,” you answered again. You had a feeling that was going to be your answer for most of his questions going forward. There wasn’t much you were willing to deny him.

Five stopped suddenly, changing his position so he was straddling your thighs and he grabbed your wrists in each of his hands, pulling your arms over your head and pinning them to the bed, just like he had downstairs. His eyes were dark and full of lust as he leaned over you.

“I’m going to give you everything you want, and I’m going to give it to you rough, and hard, and loud; just how I know you like it. And I’m going to mark this beautiful body as my own so everyone will know who it belongs to.”

He gripped your wrists tighter and you swallowed nervously, even though every nerve ending in your body was on fire.

“But first, I want to hear you say it. Not just in my head. Out loud.” He smirked evilly. “Who does this body belong to?”

There was a sharp edge to his voice that was both threatening and pleading at the same time. You had never given up so much of your inner thoughts to anyone before, and having him present them back to you like that was intimidating. But, fuck, it was definitely working. You were going to do whatever he wanted from you; you already knew it.

“It belongs to you,” you managed to get out; sounding much more pathetic than you had intended. Your voice was strained and you pulled against his hands on your wrists, but he held fast.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered into your mouth as he kissed you.

Had you been able to step outside your body and look down at yourself, you would have laughed. This young kid that was holding you down, somehow overpowering you, and calling you his good girl was way too bizarre to comprehend. But you were too busy letting out a long, desperate moan and pushing your hips up to pay much attention to the ridiculousness of it all.

You had downloaded what you wanted him to know into his mind, but he still had the free will to use it or not. So, there was still an element of suspense as you waited; wondering what he was going to do next. Would he use everything you gave him? Or completely take you by surprise?

Letting go of your wrists, Five ran his hands over and down your bare thighs, his fingers lightly brushing beneath the hem of your dress. Assuming he was going to take his time, he caught you off guard when he found the seam on the side of the skirt and ripped it open in one strong pull. The dress was split open on one side, all the way to your waist. You gasped, breathing heavily, even as you complained.

“Hey, I like this dress.”

“I’ll get you another one,” he responded wryly, even though the tiniest smirk was showing through on his face. “Right now, I want this one off.”

With another hard pull, the other side of the skirt was ripped open. Then, before you even knew what was happening, Five had pulled you up, and reached his arms around to your back. One forceful tug with both hands had the rest of the dress tearing down the back, the zipper pulling away from its stitching and leaving your entire back exposed. The cute, velvet dress that you had admired earlier when you put it on was now essentially a pile of rags.

“Jesus…”

You didn’t have time to say anything more as Five pushed you back against the mattress and pulled the remains of the dress away from your body and all of the way off. Left in your bra and panties, lying beneath him as he continued to straddle your legs, reminded you of your vulnerability. Five may be in a teenage body, but he was clearly stronger than you. Maybe it wasn’t that good of an idea to just trust him with your thoughts. He knew you wanted to be dominated, but what if he took it too far? The fact that he was still fully dressed further tipped the scales to his advantage.

His eyes traveled hungrily over your body, not touching you at first, just taking you all in.

“God damn it, you’re stunning” he growled, his fists clenching briefly like he was trying to control himself.

He moved so that he was kneeling between your legs, and you instinctively bent them at the knees as he leaned over you to kiss you roughly on the mouth. You moaned into him as he pushed his tongue inside and bit at your lips. His hands were on either side of your head, but he started gradually moving south. Your back arched as more bite marks and bruises were branded onto your skin; all down your neck and over your chest. There was no way you’d be able to hide them or cover them up. Which is exactly what he wanted.

Your moans were deep, followed by sharp hisses between clenched teeth after every sensual bite he gave you. The skin under each mark stung even after he had moved on to another, but the hurt was delicious. You wanted more. And your body writhed under him as he took his time. When finally, he was satisfied with his work, Five pulled back to admire the damage he had inflicted. A slow, one-sided smile spread across his face.

“Fuck, I didn’t think you could get any hotter, but I think I like you even better this way.” He ran a finger over one of the bruises on your collarbone. “There’s no doubt this is mine now.”

When he removed your bra, he let out a shaky groan before pushing your tits together, and running his thumbs over each erect nipple, followed by his tongue. It was embarrassing how much you could barely stand any more teasing from him. Your hips were pressing upwards, trying to get any contact you could as your clit throbbed from lack of attention and your panties were soaked through.

“Ah…please,” you whined, not even intending to say it out loud. It was as if your body had taken over your brain and it only wanted one thing.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Am I taking too long?” Five teased.

There was no warning, no hint of what he was thinking, when he reached down between your legs, shoving his hand into your underwear. The sudden sensation of his fingers on you, when you had been starving for his touch, sent your hips thrashing wildly into him, your head thrown back and a long, loud whine escaping from your lips.

His fingers leisurely stroked through your folds and over your clit. This was almost a worse torture than no touch at all, and you wanted so much more. The fact that you were completely coming apart for him was fueling Five’s confidence and he kept up the languid pace.

“I love how wet you are for me,’ he said quietly before kissing your mouth, and cutting off another moan. “Are you dying for me to fuck you right now?”

You didn’t care about the preservation of your dignity anymore, and you whimpered sad and pleading, clutching at his shoulders.

“Yes, god, please…”

With another irritating smirk, Five placed a kiss at the corner of your mouth. You were fighting the urge to push his hand harder into yourself, when he removed his fingers all together. With a wicked grin, he brought his hand up to his mouth and sucked his fingers clean, all while looking you in the eye. You didn’t think such a dirty act could be so hot, but there was the fucking proof as another rush of wetness formed between your legs.

“Sorry, darling. You’re going to have to wait a little longer for a good fucking. Right now, I want a better taste.”

You held your breath as he pushed your soaking wet panties off and moved his body down for better access. The minute you felt his tongue on you, your whole body arched and you grabbed the bedcovers beneath you in your fists.

“Fuuuck…Five!” you yelled, your voice strained and high-pitched in its neediness.

It wasn’t going to take long; that much was clear. Even though you had given him some basic instructions on what you liked in your mind transfer, you were pretty sure what he was doing went way beyond the basics. Maybe he didn’t have experience, but he sure as hell had good instincts, and apparently that translated to eating pussy, as well.

He didn’t let up, no matter how hard you bucked against him; his tongue swirling and licking through your most sensitive areas. When he started flicking his tongue over your clit, you were just about at your limit; but when he pushed two fingers inside of you while his mouth was still on you, you completely tipped over the edge.

“Oh god…don’t stop…please…yes…right there…OH FUCK!”

The spasms ripping through your body were hard and intense and you could feel each and every muscle contracting while you pushed yourself harder against him. Your cries were loud and could probably be heard by anyone that happened to be on the same floor. But, luckily or unluckily, depending on how you looked at it, there weren’t any other people around.

Five waited until your body had relaxed again and your whimpers had died down before fully pulling away and removing his fingers from you. He sat back, breathing hard, but smiling as he saw what a complete mess he had just made of you.

“Jesus…Christ,” you panted up at him. “I thought you’d never done that before.”

Five shrugged, the arrogance never leaving his face. “I told you. I’m the best at everything.”

It was such an outlandish, egotistical claim, and yet you had every reason to believe him now. You let out a breathy laugh and sat up, trying to compose yourself again. Even though your body needed time to recover post-orgasm, Five was still full of pent-up horniness and you could practically see it radiating off of him. You could also see it in his pants.

Climbing off the bed, you grabbed the collar of his dress shirt with one hand and pulled him up for a kiss, your other hand palming over his erection, rubbing it firmly over the outside of his pants.

He gave a loud groan as you kissed him, pushing into your hand at the same time. When you pulled away from his mouth, you grinned.

“If that dick gets any harder, you’re going to be ripping right through those lovely tailored pants of yours.”

Five pulled you roughly against his body with a grunt. “Then let me fuck you.”

You eyed him up for a second. You were absolutely going to let him fuck you; but with your own needs met for the time being, you were more than willing to wait a while and have some fun with him in the meantime. With a slow shake of your head, you closed further in on him, forcing him to back up until there was nowhere else to go and he was pinned against the wall. You pressed your naked body against him, kissing him hard.

His chest was heaving with loud breaths and he dug his fingers into your bare skin as he held tightly to your hips. As you reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes met his and your mouth turned up at one corner.

After you pulled his shirt out of his pants, you spread it open and ran your hands down his firm chest. His eyes had closed again from your touch and his head tipped back against the wall as you sucked a red bruise on his neck, right under his jaw line. His pulse was racing beneath your lips. When you pulled away, you smiled with satisfaction.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Five. But I’m going to ruin this beautiful new body of yours. Because you belong to me now.”

You could feel the vibration of a shaky exhale as you marked another bruise on his neck and he wound his fingers tightly into your hair.

“Just let me fuck you…please,” he begged desperately.

You shook your head no, even as his fist tightened in your hair and he let out a low groan of frustration.

“You’re wound so tight right now, you’re going to explode the second your dick is inside of me.” Five moaned quietly with just the thought. “And no one wants that. So, let me take care of that problem first.”

You got to work unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, all while leaving a trail of marks over his supple, fair skin. Working with touch alone, you found the waistband of his underwear and slowly ran your fingers inside, listening to his strained breathing as he reflexively jerked his hips toward you. The poor man had waited long enough, so you pushed the waistband over his nicely-sized erection, grasping the solid shaft in your hand.

Five let out a loud, drawn-out groan as you slid your hand up and down slowly, savoring the silky-smooth feeling of his skin. But you didn’t tease him very long and soon you were stroking him faster and firmly, lightly twisting your hand as you spread the leaked pre-cum over his length. Marking his collarbone with your teeth as you rapidly jerked him off, you couldn’t help but notice how it was turning you on, as well.

From the gasping, guttural sounds that Five was making, to his tightening fist in your hair, it was making you wet and you had to concentrate on what you were doing. You didn’t want to lose the momentum; he was already teetering close to the edge. You were surprised when you suddenly felt his hand on your wrist, stopping your movements. When you looked up at him, his face was filled with a mixture of desperation, lust, and worry.

“Stop…I can’t…I’m…” He was panting hard, his words catching in his throat as he tried to speak.

Taking your other hand and pushing him off of your wrist, you gave a tiny shake of your head. “Come in my hand. It’s ok.”

With just a few more strokes, Five was arching his back, his palms flat against the wall as he thrust his hips towards you, his cock throbbing as he came hard with your hand around him. Ropes of cum painted your hand and forearm, his strangled cry mixing with the shuddering of his body as you worked him through it. When he was finally spent and drained, you released your grip and he collapsed limply into the wall.

“Fucking Christ,” he breathed out, finally able to open his eyes and look at you again.

“Christ had nothing to do with that. That was all me,” you joked as you tucked him back into his underwear again.

It was the first time you had heard him genuinely laugh; it was short and breathy, but it was sincere and made you laugh, too. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable with the intimacy, which was weird considering everything you’d just experienced together, you excused yourself so you could clean up in the bathroom. As luck would have it, Five had found a room with an attached bathroom, rather than the community baths on some other floors. It was old and run-down, as most things in the hotel were, with a sad looking pedestal sink and separate faucets for hot and cold water. Still, there was clean, running water; which all things considered was kind of a miracle. Once you were washed off, you joined Five back in the room.

He was sitting on the bed, his pants zipped back up, but with his shirt fully off and lying next to him. As he saw you come out, he held the shirt out to you.

“I realized I destroyed your only piece of clothing, so you can wear this in the meantime if you’d like.”

The shy smile on his face, combined with his dark, tousled hair had him looking every bit of seventeen and you wondered briefly if you had actually done the right thing. But then he watched you as you tugged your underwear back on and pulled your arms through his white dress shirt, his eyes roaming over your body like he didn’t just have his face between your legs and his dick in your hand. You were filled again with that feeling, like electricity coursing through your veins from just one lustful stare.

Five stood up and closed the gap between you. The shirt he gave you was still unbuttoned but it loosely covered your breasts and hung down past your hips, with the black lace of your panties over your ass peeking out the bottom. He placed his hand lightly on your neck, rubbing his thumb over one of the bruises he had left.

“I like this. You, wearing my shirt and my bite marks. Makes me want to give you more.”

Your panties hadn’t even had a chance to dry out before they were saturated again. But you looked up at him, tracing your index finger over a red, mouth-shaped mark on his chest.

“I wouldn’t mind some more.”

Grinning in that arrogant way that you were inexplicably starting to crave, he gave you a quick but gentle kiss on the lips.

“Oh, we’re going to get to that. You’ve filled my brain with far too many things to be calling it a night already. And besides, one of the perks of being young again is the very short recovery period.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” you smiled.

Five started buckling his belt back up and your eyebrows creased together in confusion.

“Usually, you don’t get more dressed before banging.”

He gave a short chuckle. “I figured maybe I could go find you some actual clothes to wear since you may want them eventually. And maybe some drinks to bring back.”

You nodded and looked around the hotel room. There wasn’t much in the way of amenities and the orange glow coming from behind the curtain over the one window in the room made you feel uneasy. Five didn’t seem to notice your anxiety, though, and he pushed his hand through his hair to comb it back off his face.

“I’ll be back soon,” he stated before heading for the door.

“Wait!”

He turned back to you and you suddenly felt foolish for not wanting to be left alone. “You’re not even wearing a shirt or socks and shoes,” you offered up as an excuse.

Five shrugged and looked down at himself. “I don’t care. The odds of running into anyone are pretty low, and even if I do, I don’t really give a shit.”

You nodded, your mouth drawn to the side in contemplation, and you twisted your hands together in front of your body. Five finally noticed your hesitation, and he walked back over to you.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” you looked back over towards the window and then back to Five. Your voice cracked a little when you spoke. “I guess I’d rather not be completely obliterated while I’m all by myself. As dumb as that sounds.” You attempted a half-smile.

Five studied your face for a second and you weren’t sure how to read his expression. Was he going to make fun of you? Scoff and say it hardly mattered if you were alone or not, you were all going to die? You held your breath as you waited for him to speak.

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, with no trace of cynicism.

You swallowed. “Can I go with you? It’s probably easier if I find my own clothes, anyway. I do have what I was wearing before; I used the bathroom on the first floor to change.”

The corner of Five’s mouth turned up and he looked down at your current clothing situation.

“As much as I would love to watch you walk around in this outfit, do you really want to go out like that?”

You let out a soft laugh and looked down at yourself. Then you started buttoning up the shirt to cover as much of your body as possible. “Like you said, we probably won’t see anyone. And if we do, I don’t give a shit either.”

He nodded with a smile. “Ok, then. Let’s go.”

Five opened the door for you to walk out first, but not before he gave you one good smack on the ass as you passed by him, making you jump and cry out. But the look you shot him over your shoulder as you kept walking let him know you definitely hadn’t minded.

You and Five took the elevator down to the first floor, stepping out cautiously and looking both ways out of the doors to make sure there wasn’t anyone coming. With the coast clear, you set off in search of your clothes while Five took off in the direction of the bar.

After successfully locating your clothes and shoes that you had originally been wearing, you didn’t bother putting them back on. The plan was to meet Five back at the elevator and go back to the room. So, there was really no point in putting more clothes on.

On your way back, you heard raised voices coming from the lobby area. Concerned, you made your way over; close enough to see and hear what was going on, but far enough back that you hadn’t been noticed yet.

“…none of your god damned business, that’s why! And since when do you care what I do, anyway?”

“Since you just randomly left the wedding, then suddenly showed up down here, half-dressed and covered in an astounding number of hickeys! I think that might warrant an explanation.”

Five laughed in a way that even you recognized as dangerous, and you barely knew him. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Allison? I don’t have to explain anything to you. If you want to blame me for everything that’s happened, fine, go ahead. But I am done apologizing. So, why don’t you go glare angrily at someone else? I’m done with your bullshit.”

Their loud voices must have alerted the others from inside the ballroom, and soon everyone was gathered around while Five angrily ran his hands through his hair. You still hadn’t said anything or moved any closer, but Diego spotted you across the room and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Oh, shit,” he said with a half-smile.

Following his eyes, the rest of the crowd turned to look at you. Your first instinct was to shrink back into the shadows, or turn and run back to the room. But you saw Five’s rage-filled face and felt bad he was being ganged up on. Plus, you had told him you didn’t give a shit if anyone saw you. So, in answer to all of the wide eyes and shocked expressions, you squared your shoulders back and walked closer; your bare feet padding across the threadbare carpet and Five’s dress shirt barely covering your crotch.

“Seriously?” you heard Ben complain from the back of the group.

Allison crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her hip out. “Well, if it isn’t the Whore of the Apocalypse,” she sneered.

“Fuck you!” you shot back, walking up beside Five.

“Excuse me?” she asked, taking a menacing step towards you.

You stood your ground and Diego shot an arm out to the side to stop Allison from coming any closer to you. Your stare down with her was interrupted by a sudden outburst from Klaus.

“Aw, you guys…look! They have matching tattoos!” he joked, referring to the marks on both of your bodies.

Lila laughed loudly and Ben huffed, but everyone else just stood staring back and forth between you and Five, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Uh, Five? Isn’t she a little old for you?” Luther piped up.

“Well, technically he’s older than her. But I see your point. It’s a little weird,” Diego added.

“Yeah, and have you ever even, you know…” Klaus made a hole with his hand and poked his index finger in and out of it, whistling, “aside from your mannequin wifey?”

Five gave him a death glare.

“ …who was lovely by the way,” Klaus added brightly.

“What if she’s controlling your mind right now? Would you even know it?” Viktor asked with a dismissive glance in your direction.

Five opened his mouth to say something but you jumped in first. “That’s not how my powers work and you know it! It’s the end of the world and you people can’t just stay out of our business? Jesus, you really are a bunch of assholes.”

Viktor looked toward you with narrowed eyes. “My brother’s business is our business. You, however; I don’t give a shit about you.” Then he turned to Five. “Why is she even here? She’s not a part of this family.”

Five was the one that cut you off from speaking this time. He shook his head slowly, his entire body tensed like a coiled snake ready to strike. You could see the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he clenched and unclenched his fists at his side, his abdomen even more defined as his core tightened. His eyes were dark and dangerous, despite the tight-lipped smile on his face.

“You’re right, Viktor, she’s not. Which is just one of many reasons I would prefer her company right now than any of yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Diego demanded.

“Shit, we’re all going to be incinerated in a few hours anyway, so I might as well say it,” Five muttered to himself. Then he looked Diego in the eyes. “I am done.”

“Done with what?” Luther asked.

Five gestured to all of them standing there. “You. Us. This whole fucked up family. I’m done apologizing, I’m done trying to fix things for you, and I’m done listening to your constant whining. Because here’s the truth; we may be about to die from an imploding universe right now, but the only reason you’re still standing here at all is because of me.”

When they started to protest, Five held his hand up. You could see his body soften slightly, but he remained poised and ready to fight.

“The fact is, I am exhausted. All I have heard for the past few weeks is What’s the plan, Five ?, What do we do now, Five ?. I gave you the warnings and I told you my time jumps weren’t exact. You knew of the risks before you agreed to any of it. And then what do I get after I save all of your sorry asses? This is all your fault, Five, We never should have listened to you, Five, You’re the reason I lost everything, Five.”

His words hung heavy over the room. No one said a thing, although they all exchanged silent glances with one another.

Five’s voice quieted and his shoulders slumped a little. “You can count me out of your little voting ceremony with Dad tomorrow. I don’t really care if you go along with him or not. But I’m staying here. Because no matter what horrible thing he’s going to lure you into, somehow you’re going to make it my fault. So, like I said; I am done.”

He shouldered past Klaus to get to the bar and leaned over to grab two full bottles of what you assumed to be whiskey. Then he walked over to you, shoved one of the bottles in your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“Do you still want to come back with me?”

You just nodded your head; still trying to take in all that he had told his family. Without another word, he grabbed your free hand and pulled you along with him as he stormed out of the lobby and towards the elevator. You couldn’t help but notice that no one called after him or asked him to come back. No one yelled out a half-hearted apology or even cursed him angrily. They just let him go.

Once inside the elevator, he wordlessly yanked the stopper out of the bottle in his hand and tipped it to his mouth, swallowing down an impressive amount in one gulp. When he lowered the bottle again, he was breathing fast and hard from adrenaline and his chest was heaving.

“Are…you ok?” you ventured.

He turned to you with surprise, almost as if he had forgotten you were there, so lost in his own thoughts.

He nodded. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t have to apologize. It sounds like it needed to be said.”

Five shrugged and the elevator doors opened to your floor. He took another sip of the whiskey as he walked out. “Fuck them, anyway.”

You weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you, or to himself, but you chose not to comment. Instead, you followed him to the room and let him blink you inside since you never did get the key to the door. Once you were inside, you set down your clothes and the bottle you had been carrying. Then you took the one Five had out of his hand without asking. He watched as you took your own long swig and set it down next to the other one.

“That’s enough for now. I’m counting on you to be able to perform certain duties,” you said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood and break Five out of his angry brooding.

It worked, because you saw that flicker of lust cross his eyes again. “Come here.” His voice was soft but forceful.

He pulled you to him with a hand on the small of your back and the other on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek gently. When he kissed you, he tasted like whiskey and sex and desire, and you threaded your fingers into his hair as he held you tighter. Without any more hesitation, you began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, at the same time that he moved to hastily unbutton your shirt.

“You’re not going to rip this one off of me, too?” you teased.

“Fuck no. This is an exquisitely tailored shirt. I’m not going to just ruin it.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pushed his pants and underwear down his legs and he kicked them off, at the same time pushing the dress shirt off your shoulders and onto the floor. He lifted you up with his hands on your bottom and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your kisses were intense again as you pressed your naked chest onto his.

When he laid you down on the bed, ripping your underwear off and climbing over you, he stroked your bare thigh and the curve of your ass. You could feel how hard he was as he pressed himself against you.

“God, this fucking body of yours…” he moaned.

“It’s your body, now,” you answered breathlessly and you pushed into him, letting him know you didn’t want to wait any longer.

As an answer, he didn’t take it slow or gently, thrusting his cock all of the way into you in one aggressive push. When you cried out and dug your nails into his shoulder, he let out a long and throaty groan.

“Oh fuuuck, you’re tight.”

With a slow pull back, Five pushed back into you again, the amazing feeling making you gasp and moan. Holding himself over you with one arm, he raised one of your legs up and positioned it so you were resting it on his shoulder. He grinned down at you as you tipped your head back.

“You like this, huh?”

“You know I do.”

You grabbed his ass with both of your hands and pushed him into you, making him suck in a loud breath.

“I also know that you like it rough,” he growled as he suddenly started thrusting into you hard and fast.

He was right, you did like it, and your answer came in the form of a loud and long cry, throwing your head back again and shutting your eyes. He continued to ram into you, snapping his hips forcefully so that your body jerked violently in time with his movements. Your nails clawed at his back and you could feel the tightness of his muscles as he put all of his energy into fucking you as hard you wanted.

It was amazing, this feeling of finally having him inside of you. Maybe it had only been a few hours since you had met, but it felt like a lifetime of wanting and waiting. He was putting his new-found knowledge to work, hitting just the right spot every time, so that you never wanted it to stop. As Five’s thrusts became faster and more intense, he grabbed onto the headboard for leverage, driving himself even deeper inside of you. His skin became slick with a thin layer of sweat as he worked to give you everything you craved, and his hair flopped down and stuck to his forehead. With each animalistic grunt and growl he let out, he clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

“Five…” you gasped as you clutched harder at his body. “Keep going. I’m going to come. Just don’t stop.”

He gave another low groan and he slammed into you as hard as he could, his cock sliding in and out like it was made just for you. It was all you could take before the room was filled with your shrieks and moans, your fingers digging into his back and your eyes shut tight. You could hear and feel Five come inside you, pulsing into you as his body stilled and he pressed his face into the crook of your neck to muffle the noises that erupted out of him.

You and he must have had the same thought as you moved your leg to a more comfortable position, his body still on top of yours. When he pulled out, a mixture of his cum and your juices running out of you, he leaned down and kissed you and you ran your fingers softly over the red lines you had made down his back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have pulled out.”

That had been your concern as well, but as the reality of the situation sunk in, you realized it hardly mattered. “It’s ok. I don’t think there’s enough time for us to have to live with any consequences of our actions.”

Five gave you a lop-sided smile and moved next to you, draping an arm over your waist and kissing your shoulder. “Just one of the many upsides of an impending apocalypse.”

With a laugh, you turned on your side so you were face to face. You gently brushed his hair out of his eye and traced his lips with your fingers. It should have been uncomfortable. You hardly knew him, after all. But now that the sexual tension was gone, you felt good lying there with him. You were relaxed and you felt safe. But that didn’t necessarily mean he felt the same and you quickly moved your hand away from his face and backed away a couple inches, just in case he didn’t want that kind of intimacy. This was supposed to be just sex; there had been no talk of what was going to happen afterward. It was quite possible he wanted to be left alone now.

So, you were taken by surprise when he pulled your body back closer and kissed you tenderly while brushing away your own hair off your face. You sighed and snuggled in closer. He turned on his back so that you could rest your head on his chest and he put his arm around your shoulder. You felt him rub his cheek against your hair.

“What else did you put in my brain?”

“Nothing, I swear. Why?”

“Because there is no logical explanation for why you have this hold on me. I don’t even know you.”

You traced the outline of a faded scar on his abdomen, wishing you knew more about his past and that there was more time to learn about it.

“First of all, that’s not how that works. I can’t make you do something you don’t want to do, or make you feel a certain way.”

“I bet you can. You just don’t know you can.”

You frowned and looked up at him. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“No. I’m just saying what I said before. That you most likely have untapped potential in there. And it’s possible that you could unintentionally use those hidden abilities without you even realizing it.”

You sat up and faced him, shrugging his arm off. “So, you are accusing me. You’re saying I somehow tapped into your brain and made you what? Feel actual feelings for me?”

When he didn’t deny it, you climbed off the bed, standing over him as he propped himself up on one elbow. You gave a sarcastic laugh and shook your head in disbelief.

“God, I’m a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I just helped some kid get his dick wet for the first time, only to have it thrown back in my face. What makes you think I want anything to do with you, anyway? I didn’t realize you were that arrogant that you thought everyone is just dying to have you fall in love with them.”

Your voice was shaking and you balled your fists at your side. You wanted to put your clothes back on, because fighting with someone while naked didn’t have quite the same impact. But you didn’t want to break eye contact, staring Five down and waiting to see what pathetic excuse he was going to come up with. You braced yourself for the inevitable anger from him that you had seen towards his family. But that’s not what happened. Instead, he had the nerve to look sorry; watching you intently with those stupid green eyes of his.

“Can you sit down please?”

“Fuck you!”

Five sighed heavily. “I’m sorry. For everything I said. But can you please come here?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I didn’t mean to make you upset. And I don’t want you to go.”

He sounded sincere and it’s possible you had overreacted in the first place. Just one of your lovely personality traits was flying off the handle with little instigation. After some hesitation and a dramatic exhale, you sat back down on the bed next to him. He was still lying on his side and he placed his hand on top of yours.

“Look, I’m not very good at expressing my feelings. A lifetime of isolation will do that to you, so I’m told. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have them. And I’m sorry I accused you of anything. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Your body had relaxed again and you no longer felt as defensive. “Surprised by what?”

Five looked away for a second and then back to you. “Like I said; you’ve got this weird hold on me.”

“What does that even mean?” you asked, wishing you knew how to read him better.

“Take a look.”

“What?”

“Do whatever you do that reads people’s feelings. That way you’ll know what I can’t say in words.”

Your eyebrows creased together and you cocked your head to one side as you studied him. “Are you sure about that? Most people don’t like it. It disarms them. Makes them feel exposed.”

Five nodded. “I’m sure. I trust you.”

After thinking it over, you agreed and you laid down next to Five, facing him. “Ok, here it goes.”

With your eyes closed, you focused on penetrating Five’s consciousness. As you dialed in on his emotions, a golden, sparkling tendril of light started to form in front of you. The more you concentrated, the more it grew, until there was a shimmering strand of gold connecting your mind to Five’s. As soon as the other end of the tendril made contact with his mind, everything came flooding towards you at once. There was a flash of light behind your eyes and then your head was filled with rapidly changing emotions, flipping through your brain at warp speed. You gasped loudly and then you opened your eyes, breaking the golden tendril, watching it disappear into the air. Five had felt nothing and he looked expectedly back at you, waiting for your reaction.

All of his feelings were whirling around inside of you, and they were strong and deep. And very real. Shame, self-blame, regret; those rose to the top. There was anger and fear there, too. But underneath that was love for his family and love for life. And something else that was just for you. A combination of appreciation, hope, and contentment. He felt comfortable with you. He felt a kind of happiness.

“Five,” you whispered as you placed a hand on the side of his face.

“Do you believe me?”

You nodded. “I can’t make you read my emotions, but I can tell you that I feel the same. I feel safe with you. And maybe that’s stupid, but it’s the truth. I like being with you.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. You already knew everything. Instead, he rolled you onto your back and kissed you. It wasn’t like before, when you were trying to devour each other. This was soft and passionate, and you ran your fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck. You sighed happily when he nuzzled into your neck and whispered your name. You weren’t sure what was happening between the two of you, but it didn’t really matter. There wasn’t much time left anyway, and all you knew was that whatever it was, it felt right.

Chapter Four: Accepting Your Fate

“I swear, if you pour that vodka on that cereal, I am out of here.”

Five looked up at you, holding the bottle of vodka over a giant bowl of cereal, and wearing an irritated expression.

“Oh yeah, and where are you going to go?” he asked with one raised eyebrow and a small smile.

You shrugged and leaned against the counter. “I’m sure Ben would be willing to take me in.”

“Is that what you want to do? Spend the last moments on the planet listening to Ben?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not really, no. But maybe there won’t be much talking.”

“You’re a bad liar,” Five said pointedly. But he set the bottle down on the counter, looking at you and waiting.

You had gotten your way and you beamed happily in his direction. Then you looked around the large, commercial kitchen of the hotel. “There has to be something else around here besides crappy cereal.”

“Not lobsters,” Five muttered under his breath as he watched you rummage around.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

You poked your head into the fridge. “Ah-ha!” you exclaimed triumphantly as you pulled out a package of cheese. “Perfect. I’ll make us grilled cheese.”

Five made a small noise of approval and let you continue searching for the bread and butter. As you got to work at the stove, he studied your movements. You could feel him watching you even though you were trying to ignore him; until you felt his hands on your hips and the soft exhale of breath on your neck. With the spatula in your hand and raised in the air over the pan, you stopped and closed your eyes, your body apparently not caring that you were in the middle of making food.

“You’re going to make me burn this, you know.” You tried to scold him, but the tremble in your voice gave you away.

“I was fine with my cereal and vodka. The grilled cheese was your idea.”

His voice was quiet next to your ear and his lips brushed your skin. You shivered against him, but you were determined not to let him win. You flipped the sandwich on the pan, happy to see that it was a nice golden brown and not charred black. Five continued to tease you, running his hands up your sides and kissing your shoulder, even as you continued to ignore him. When you were finished, you turned off the stove and stepped back, forcing Five to let go and back away.

Pretending you hadn’t been just seconds away from abandoning the sandwich and jumping him, you pointed to a cupboard.

“Can you find a plate?”

Begrudgingly finding a plate, Five handed it to you and you cut the sandwich in two for the both of you to share. You had to admit, it made a really good midnight snack and being with Five had worked up your appetite. It was even better when you both capped it off with a shot of vodka; and even Five acknowledged it was better than his original use for it. When you were both finished, he stood in front of you, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“All this time I didn’t think I was hungry, but it turns out I was starving.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, do you want me to make you another one?”

Five shook his head and smiled, resting his hands on your waist. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh…” was all you could breathe out as he loosely held your chin and tilted your head up.

“I’ve always taken care of myself and I never thought I needed anything or anyone else. But I think I was wrong. Because I like this.”

He kissed you and you let your eyes fall shut. “The sex?” you asked quietly.

“Not just the sex, although that is amazing. It’s all of these other things you’ve done for me. Standing up to my family and defending me, making sure I didn’t drink too much, asking if I’m ok. Making me food. No one has ever done anything like that for me before and I didn’t realize how much I was craving it.”

“Everyone deserves to be taken care of sometimes, Five. I’m sorry it’s taken this long for someone to do it for you. And I’m sorry we don’t have more time, but I’m glad I could at least show you that.”

“Thank you,” he murmured before kissing you again.

When he pulled away, you smiled slyly. “If we go back to our room, I can take care of you in a different way that is even better than grilled cheese.”

“What the hell are we still doing here, then?”

You laughed and dragged him out of the kitchen by his hand, narrowly escaping the hard pinch he was about to give your butt. When you finally made it back to the room, you were feeling light and happy, the looming oppression of the giant fireball outside having been temporarily forgotten.

The two of you were starting to get really good at removing your clothing in a fast and efficient way, and soon you were lying naked on top of Five, kissing him as his hands roamed your body. As you started to move your mouth further down his chest and over his stomach, you felt his muscles tense when he realized what you were doing.

“I can’t let the world end without making sure you experienced another one of my super powers.”

You heard him suck in a breath as you kissed the inside of his thigh. “You might not have anything to compare it to, but trust me when I tell you I give outstanding blow jobs.”

Five made another soft whining noise and you were having fun taking your time. With one hand gripping him loosely, you flicked your tongue lightly across the head of his cock; teasing. He inhaled sharply and you gave another soft lick before slowly moving your hand up and down the shaft. You only took him fully into your mouth one time before pulling back and off again, leaving Five desperate for more. While you leisurely stroked him with your hand again, you looked up at him.

“You know what’s weird? Why is it called a blow job? We’re not blowing anything. It should be called a suck job.”

Five ran a frustrated hand down his face with a groan before placing the same hand on the back of your head. “We can discuss the etiology of the phrase later,” he croaked out.

Your giggles were cut off by a choking noise as Five shoved your face down, giving you no choice but to fill your mouth with the full length of his cock. He moved his hand off your head as you slid your lips up and down; and he groaned loudly again.

“Fuck, that feels so good.”

Even though you wanted to show off your special skill, you still couldn’t resist continuing to tease him. You were too loopy with happiness; it was something you couldn’t even explain. Popping your mouth off of him, you looked up at him with big eyes and a wicked smile.

“You know what else is weird?”

“The fact that you don’t shut up?”

“No. The fact that I can suck your dick and that's fine, but it would be considered really gross if I used your toothbrush to brush my teeth. Weird, right?”

He pushed a hand down his face in frustration. “Well, you’re not sucking my dick right now. So, maybe let’s focus on that and not toothbrush etiquette.”

After another sensual lick up the underside of his shaft, you stopped again. “I just thought of something else…”

With a growl that made you laugh out loud, Five opened his eyes again and looked down at you, his breaths coming fast and hard. “What is wrong with you, woman?”

Before you could get out a sarcastic remark, Five had sat up and flipped you over so that he was pinning you down into the mattress. It had happened so fast you hadn’t seen it coming and you gave a tiny shriek that turned into a laugh until his hand was around your throat. One side of his mouth turned up and his eyes flashed with a dangerous glint.

“Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think you realize who you’re playing with here.”

The grip on your throat wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but it was enough to feel the pressure of his fingers digging into your skin, and you imagined the red marks they would leave in their wake. Your hands clasped onto his forearm, but you didn’t try to push his hand away. Instead, you stared up at him longingly, your lungs burning while you sucked in a hard breath.

His lips met yours with a ferocity you hadn’t seen in him yet, and he pushed his hand harder against your throat. When a strained moan drifted out of your lips, he drew back to look you in the eyes again.

“You need to learn to behave. Hold your wrists out for me.”

His voice was hard and demanding and it made you want to do anything for him with no questions asked. You held your wrists up together in front of you while you laid beneath him on the bed. He released his hold on your neck and sat back on his knees.

He picked his discarded tie off the floor next to the bed. The black silk was soft against your skin as he wrapped it around each wrist and tied it securely together in the middle. He obviously knew what he was doing and there would be no escaping this particular knot, no matter how hard you struggled against it.

After one hard kiss, sucking at your bottom lip as he pulled away, you saw pure lust flicker over his eyes; right before he flipped you over onto your stomach. With a hard pull backwards, his strong hands grasping at your hips, you were at his mercy as he rubbed his hard length along the warm, wet crease between your legs. The long, shaky whine you let out was muffled by the curtain of hair that fell around your face as you propped yourself up on your forearms. With your wrists tied together, you had little control over your body and you found yourself eagerly relinquishing all of your power to Five.

He was completely and wholly in charge of you, and you made sure he knew it by pressing your ass back into him and sighing softly, fully submitting to whatever he wanted. His hand passed between your shoulder blades and slowly down your back. You could feel the heat from his fingers on your skin and you imagined them burning long, red lines down your spine; branding you as his own. And in that moment, you were undeniably his.

His body covered yours, his chest pressed against your back as he held himself over you. He kissed your neck and your hair, rocking his hips into you so you could feel him hard and ready for you.

“You showed me that you want this,” he whispered. “But I need you to tell me it’s ok. Because I’m not going to hold back.”

You shook your head with a smile and looked over your shoulder, your hair still in your face. “Don’t hold back. I want everything you can give me.”

He was nuzzling into your hair, rubbing his cheek and nose over what was probably a tangled mess by now, and he made a quiet, happy humming noise before holding himself up with one hand as he pushed your hair to one side of your neck. Leaning in, his lips brushed feather-light across your shoulder. Then you heard the danger in his voice again, as his mouth grazed the skin next to your ear.

“Be a good girl for me, ok sweetheart? Just relax and give me what I want. And then after I’m through using you like the little fuck doll you are, I promise to make it feel so good for you.”

He pressed himself against you again, letting his thick cock nestle between your ass cheeks, and he let out a moan when he slid it back and forth a few times. The feeling made you push back against him harder, your head down and your ass in the air, whining like a cat in heat. Five chuckled darkly at your reaction.

“Look how desperate you are. And I seriously thought about fucking you in the ass, because we both know you want it.”

Five sat up on his knees behind you, pulling your hips back against his thighs, his cock still buried in your ass crack. His hand lovingly smoothed your hair and caressed your back, even as he talked in that sinister voice of his.

“But then I realized we don’t have the proper accessories handy, and even if you would let me just to please me, I don’t want to hurt you. So, while I would love to bury my dick deep inside your tight little asshole, we’re going to have to do that another time.”

He drew back, rubbing your backside with both hands before hauling back and smacking you hard on one cheek and then the other. You cried out and clenched your eyes shut, but it wasn’t from the pain or the surprise. It was because you loved it, and you wanted more.

This was one of the fantasies you had placed in Five’s mind earlier. You wanted to be dominated and used; fucked into the mattress and then praised for your good behavior. And he was right, you probably would have let him fuck your ass raw, because you knew how to behave and take it. You wanted to show him you could be a good girl for him.

His hands grabbed your tits roughly, and he jerked you up and backwards so that you were on your knees in front of him, your back flush against his chest. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his body as he breathed hard into the crook of your neck, the muscles in your back burning with the way he was pulling you into him. But when he started to suck another deep bruise onto the side of your neck, you let your head fall to the side to make more room. The only thing holding you up were his hands on your breasts, massaging and squeezing them together, the tendons in his forearms tight as he held your weight against him. If he let go, you’d have no way to catch yourself, since your hands were still bound together.

The cry from deep in your throat was strangled and broken as you felt his teeth scrape sharply across the tender mark he had made on your neck. He moved you over slightly so that you were sitting on his thigh.

“God, you’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned.

When you started to grind yourself onto his leg, unable to help yourself, he moved one arm down so that he was holding you around the front of your waist, keeping you still. His other arm stayed wrapped around your chest.

“I know you’re aching to get some relief, and I can feel you dripping down my leg, but you have to be good and stay still. Understand?”

Everything between your legs was engorged and throbbing, and you did want relief more than anything. But you nodded your head with a quiet whimper.

He kissed your shoulder again. “My good girl,” he murmured.

When he shoved you off of his leg, letting go of his hold on you, you fell ungracefully forward, landing on the side of your face until you could get your arms under you again. It was hard to see behind you, even if you craned your neck, but you could feel his hands on your hips, fingers digging hard into your flesh, as Five positioned you where he wanted you.

The seconds seemed to drag on forever as you waited, unmoving; the only sounds were your ragged breathing. When he used his knees to shove your legs further apart and you felt his hips against you, you held your breath in anticipation.

Then he was slowly and deliberately pushing inside of you, until he was as deep as possible, holding himself there as he listened to your desperate moans. His body was on top of you again, pushing you down, almost flat against the mattress, so that he could thrust into you while his mouth had access to your shoulders and neck. You squeezed your eyes shut, using all your strength to keep yourself propped up on your forearms as one of his arms wrapped around your upper body and the other held himself up for leverage. He gave one hard, violent thrust into you, pushing you forward. He paused, just long enough to leave you waiting, before ramming into you once again.

"Fuck, yes..." you heard him murmur before he shoved himself into you again. "Just lie still, honey, that's it."

You couldn't have moved, even if you wanted to, as he pinned you down from behind. It was uncomfortable and scary, letting him have this much control, but you fucking loved every second of it.

“You take my dick so well. Just like that, baby. You’re doing so good for me, I know that perfect cunt of yours can take more,” he rasped.

Five continued to fuck into you, methodically and forcefully, pulling back slowly and slamming hard inside again. With each thrust, you could hear his rough, staccato grunts and feel his hissing breath against your skin. The sounds you were making were desperate and pained; the deep penetration of his cock only half of what you needed from him. But Five refused to give you any satisfaction in the way of his fingers. All of his focus was on his needs and how far he could push your limits.

“You feel so amazing…fuck! Do you even know how fucking good you feel? Only you could make me this hard.” He pushed violently into you again and you let out a pathetic cry.

“Please,” you begged, not even really sure if you were begging for him to stop or to give you more.

“Shh…you’re doing so well for me, baby doll. I’m so proud of you. Just a little longer, ok, sweet girl?” he praised, kissing your temple sweetly even as he rammed into you from behind. His groan vibrated against your skin. “God damn it, I could keep fucking you forever, you feel so good.”

But his thrusts started to come faster, and his chest was heaving on top of you as he let out a long and husky growl into the back of your neck, muffling it with your hair. He filled you up with his hot seed until he was fully spent; arms shaking as he climbed off of you. When you started to push yourself up, assuming he was going to let you, he pushed you back down until you were flat on your stomach once more.

“Stay right there, sweetheart. You did such a good job for me and I know you’re so close. Let me take care of you now.”

He pushed his hand between your legs from behind, putting pressure right where you had been missing, and you let out a loud scream just from the relief of it. As he pressed into your clit, you couldn’t help moving your hips against him so you were riding his hand.

“That’s right, keep going. Let me hear you, baby. Louder.”

He kept at it, his hand wet and sticky from his own cum that was spilling out of you. You sobbed and screamed his name until a long-awaited orgasm ripped through your body, leaving you a crying, shaking mess. Your hips gave a few more involuntary twitches before you finally collapsed into the bed again; limp and gasping for air. Five wiped his hand on the bedsheet and undid the tie around your wrists. Then he helped you turn over so you were looking up at him on your back, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asked, his eyebrows creased together in sincerity like he was waiting for his end-of-the-quarter performance review. “Is that what you wanted?”

You couldn’t help but laugh up at him. “Jesus Christ, Five! That was fucking amazing! You couldn’t tell?”

He was still looking worried and unsure and you sighed heavily, still smiling and shaking your head. “Seriously, if I could, I’d give you a glowing Yelp review. Five out of five wet vaginas…would come here again.”

That smug smile returned to his face and he leaned down to kiss you. “I’m kind of liking that smart-ass mouth of yours. It’s pretty cute.”

“That’s good. Because it’s the only one I have.”

Just as Five was helping you sit up, there was a loud knock on the door and you both jumped. He looked at you, questioningly, but you just shrugged your shoulders. It’s not like housekeeping was going to be stopping by.

The knock came again, this time louder and more insistent. Then you could both hear muffled voices outside, sounding like people were arguing.

“Fuck,” Five muttered under his breath as he angrily swiped his boxer briefs from the floor and yanked them on. “Fucking fuck fuckers…”

You watched as Five stormed over to the door and swung it open, his face twisted into a murderous rage. The three men standing outside looked suddenly scared and they stopped talking immediately. Klaus, Diego, and Luther glanced nervously at one another as Five seethed in front of them.

“What? What are you assholes doing here? And how did you even find me?”

More glances were exchanged and then Luther’s voice cracked. “Well, we, uh…we kind of heard some loud noises, so then we followed them, and, you know, we may have heard your name a couple times, so-”

Diego cut him off with a knowing smile, holding out his hand for a fist bump. “Seriously dude, I’m super impressed. Nice job, old man.”

The look on Five’s face did nothing to deter Diego, despite the fact that he was in immediate danger of losing his life. Klaus was more in tune to his brother’s wrath, and slowly lowered Diego’s hand before Five completely snapped.

“Look, we felt bad about how we left things, and we wanted to talk. That’s all,” Klaus explained.

“I don’t feel bad. I said what I said. There’s nothing to talk about,” Five barked back.

Luther sighed. “Please, Five, come on. We’re sorry. And we don’t want things to end like that.”

“Please, Fivey?

“Please, what? What do you want from me?”

“We just want to talk to you, ok? Can you at least just give us a couple minutes? That’s all we’re asking,” Diego said, suddenly very sincere.

Five sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Since I know you’ll just keep annoying me.”

Klaus made a move to step into the room, but Five immediately stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Absolutely not. You idiots can wait in the hallway. Give me five minutes.”

Klaus shrunk back into the hall, looking like a kicked puppy, while Luther rolled his eyes. But they stayed where they were. Five was about to close the door when Diego cried out.

“Wait, Five!”

Five paused and Diego took a step closer, leaning his head in and talking in a low voice as if no one else around him could hear.

“I’ve never heard Lila make noises like that. What’s your secret? Is there like a trick or a secret move you can teach me-“ he was cut off as Five slammed the door directly in his face.

“Fucking. Idiots.” Five raged under his breath, his hands clenched into tight fists.

You were still sitting in the bed, a sheet covering your body, as you stared at Five with wide eyes.

“Are you ok? You look like you’re about to murder someone,” you said with a nervous laugh, but not really joking.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled while he walked around, picking up the various parts of his suit off the floor.

You watched him quietly, not daring to say anything, as he stormed into the bathroom and shut the door. A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed in his full suit again, and he adjusted his tie. The confused look on your face must have said it all, because when he looked at you, he just shrugged and pulled the cuffs of his shirt down.

“I can think better like this,” he said gruffly.

“Ok…” your voice trailed off and you weren’t sure what else to say. The arrival of his brothers had thrown him into a weird mood and you weren’t sure how to navigate it.

“Wait here,” he said sharply.

Before you could snap back at him and tell him to quit talking to you like that, he disappeared in a flash of blue. With a huff, you got up, pulling your underwear on and walked to the door so you could eavesdrop. You could also peer out the peephole in the door, watching the four men as they stood in the hall looking anxious.

“Alright, I’m here. Talk,” Five demanded, his hands shoved into his pants pockets while he waited for one of the others to respond.

“Five, we’re sorry. We thought about what you said earlier, and you’re right. We have been unfair to you and we wanted to apologize. Before…you know…there’s no more time left,” Luther started.

“And we don’t blame you for everything that’s happened. Well, at least not anymore. It’s just that there’s been a lot of crazy, shitty things that have happened to us, and you did seem to be in the middle of it, and-“

Klaus cut Diego off. “What Diego means is that even though this may not be the most ideal situation we’re in right now; we know it’s not your fault.”

“Great. You apologized. Are we done here?”

You could see that Five was still staring them down, his body tense and the muscles in his jaw working.

Luther sighed. “Come on, Five, don’t be like that. We’re family. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

Five strode angrily over to Luther and glared up at him, his teeth clenched. “It used to. Until I woke up and realized we were never a family to begin with, and I spent my entire life trying to save you shitheads for no reason. Because look where it got us! Right back with Dad in another fucking timeline with the world ending again. And I can’t do a god damn thing to stop it!”

His words seemed to shock him as much as the rest of them, and he took a step back, his body relaxing slightly.

“Is that what this is really about? You think you need to save us?” Klaus asked.

Five didn’t answer, but his face had lost the rigidity and sternness that it had before. It was hard to make out from the door, but he looked sad and your heart broke just a little.

“Five, you did save us. You saved us as many times as you could. It’s just that the universe had different plans, that’s all,” Diego offered.

Five raised his head and looked up, then back at his brothers. “I tried. I tried and I failed. So, this is it and we just have to accept that.” He looked at Klaus. “I know you want me to believe that this version of Dad is a better version and we should trust him. But that’s not going to happen, Klaus, I’m sorry. He’s not interested in our safety, or our wellbeing, or our happiness. He never has been.”

Klaus looked down sadly, but he nodded his head and Diego turned to Five.

“Some of us are staying. But we’re going to stay together, and we want you to come with us. Because we are a family. Even if we’re the most fucked up family on what’s left of this planet.”

“But Dad is still trying to convince everyone, and he said he only needs two more. So, that’s still an option if you change your mind. The rest of us, we’ll be in the lobby at the bar, drinking what’s left of the booze and waiting out the end. And we’d love for you to join us,” Luther told him.

Five nodded solemnly and was about to explain that he was happy where he was, but then Luther continued.

“I know it’s none of my business, and I’m truly happy that you found someone to spend the rest of this time with. But you’re not being fair. She deserves to know that she has a choice. You can’t make that decision for her.”

Five glanced back at the door, and you flinched, thinking he could see you through the peephole, but of course he couldn’t. Then he turned back to his brothers.

“Don’t worry about me or her, we’re doing fine. Which is why I’m going to stay here. I won’t be joining you, I’m sorry.”

The brothers looked sad as they stood there, not saying anything, and the air hanging heavy with their words. Finally, Diego spoke.

“Alright, man, I get it. We’ll leave you alone. But just know that you are our brother. And we love you.”

Luther and Klaus nodded in agreement and Five tried his best to look angry again, but failed. He hung his head and shook it slowly before raising it again.

“Yeah, ok. I love you assholes, too, I guess. Now leave and go back to your wives and girlfriends and long-lost asshole brothers. It’s been…an interesting life together.”

There was a flurry of shoulder claps and hair ruffling and side-hugs and then the other three were on their way, leaving Five standing in the hallway alone. You didn’t want him to know you’d been listening when he came back in, so you hurried off into the bathroom to take a shower. While you were in there, you thought about everything you had heard. You were glad he had made amends with his brothers. But you wondered what Luther was talking about when he said Five needed to tell you about a choice you had.

When you were finished, you threw on the same clothes you’d been wearing, and you found Five sitting on the bed. He was in just his dress shirt and pants again, with his shirt sleeves rolled up. He smiled sheepishly when he saw you.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi. You better now?” you asked sharply.

He nodded. “I know I wasn’t very nice to you just then. So, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“I also need to tell you something.”

“Yeah, ok, what is it?” You folded your arms over your chest defensively, but then Five patted the bed next to him and you went and sat down.

Five took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you. Well, not that I’ve lied, but more like I’ve withheld some information from you.”

You raised your eyebrows but didn’t comment. Five cleared his throat and continued.

“The truth is, you don’t have to stay here and wait for the world to end. At least theoretically.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know when Reginald mentioned Project Oblivion to you?” You nodded. “That’s his hare-brained scheme that could potentially be a way of saving the world.”

When you looked shocked, he held up a hand. “Don’t get too excited. Anything having to do with Reginald should be considered dangerous and he is most likely using us for his own selfish agenda. That’s how it’s always been.”

“But what is his plan?”

Five sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know exactly. But it entails going through some sort of portal into another dimension; another version of this hotel. But there’s more to it than that and we could end up just as dead.”

You frowned. “But we’re going to die here for sure if we stay. If there’s even a chance, why wouldn’t you at least try? If you die there, what’s the difference?”

Five looked at you with so much sadness and sorrow in his eyes, that you didn’t need to tap into his mind to read his emotions.

“Because I don’t want this to be his decision. I want it to be mine. If I go along with him, and I die at his hands, then he will have won again. But if I stay and accept my fate; then at least I’ll have died free from his control.”

He reached over and took your hands in his. “You don’t have to stay here with me, though. I want you to know that. It was unfair of me to have waited this long to tell you. And I would understand if you decided to go.”

You nodded thoughtfully, looking down at your hands that were clasped together. It seemed like a no-brainer. Why wouldn’t you take a chance if it meant there was a possibility, no matter how small, that you didn’t have to die in a fiery apocalypse? But you barely knew his siblings, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were still afraid of Reginald. You hadn’t known Five long at all, but somehow you trusted him. And when you looked into his eyes, you decided to accept your own fate.

“I’m staying with you.”

He looked stunned. “You want to stay here with me? Are you sure?”

You smiled sadly and nodded. “Yes, I trust you, Five. And I don’t trust your father. So, wherever you are, that’s where I’ll be.”

With a huge sigh of relief, Five leaned in to kiss you, squeezing your hands tighter in his own.

“Ok, then. We’ll do this together.”

When the tiredness hit you both, you laid down on the bed, Five holding you from behind. He pulled you in close to him and wrapped his arms around your middle. You hadn’t realized how exhausted you were and the feeling of his body against yours put you at ease; your muscles relaxing and melting into him as you closed your heavy eyelids.

“Thank you,” Five murmured sleepily. “Thank you for staying. I don’t want to be alone.”

You wiggled back into him and he tightened his hold on you. “I don’t want to be alone, either,” you said quietly.

In another minute, you were both asleep, with Five holding you in his strong embrace; the rise and fall of his chest already so familiar to you that you wondered how you ever slept without it before.

Chapter Five: Stay/Epilogue

You woke up with a sudden jolt, looking around for something that may have woken you. But all that you could see was the orange blaze from outside of the window. It was brighter now and lit up the whole room with a sinister, flickering glow. In another circumstance it may have looked pretty, like a fireplace or candlelight. But now it just looked like hell.

When you realized you were still alive, at least for the time being, you looked next to you in the bed. Five was gone. You called out his name, but there was no answer and he wasn’t in the bathroom. There was also no note left on the table. He was just gone. And you started to panic.

Scrambling out of bed, you threw on your shorts and t-shirt, trying to remain as calm as possible. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest and your pulse was deafening in your ears. As your hand turned the doorknob to leave, you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to steady your nerves.

You decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator, peeking down each floor’s empty and silent hallway on the way down. When you reached the lobby, it was just as you feared. There was no one. You had overheard the others say they were going to camp out in the lobby bar, but there was no sign of them. Maybe they had moved the party into another room, but something in the back of your mind told you that wasn’t the case.

Swallowing down the rising panic you felt creeping up your throat, you continued to look around. You couldn’t hear anyone talking in the distance or even footsteps. It was eerily quiet and you found yourself tiptoeing in your bare feet, not wanting to miss any noises. This was it, you were sure of it. Everyone else had been sucked up or destroyed or whatever by the kugelblitz. And you were the last one left. It was your worst nightmare coming true.

When you were just about to give up and crumble to the floor in despair, you turned a corner into a large game room. You hadn’t known it was there, but there was another pool table inside, identical to the one in the lobby. There were also dart boards and smaller tables for playing cards. There was a very large picture window that lined one wall and looked out onto the courtyard. Or at least, it would have if the courtyard still existed.

That’s where you found him. He was silhouetted against the window, his body backlit by the orange and red fireball outside, his back to you. When you saw him, the immense relief you felt washed over you, mixing with your fear and anger until you exploded in a sudden rage.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, your voice trembling and the tears already spilling over.

Five whirled around to see you doubled over, face shiny and wet, as you clutched at your stomach and leaned into the side of the pool table for support. You continued to scream, even though your choking sobs were making everything unintelligible.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, I THOUGHT..."

Five blinked over to you, grabbing you by the arms to hold you up, but you just collapsed into his chest, sobbing harder. You felt his hand on your head, stroking your hair while he held you to him. He may have been saying something to you, maybe that he was sorry, but you couldn’t hear him. You could only hear your own wailing cries and the blood pounding in your ears. After several minutes, when the crying eventually faded to hiccups and your breathing started to slow again, you wiped at your face but continued to let Five hold you.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I wasn’t thinking,” he murmured as he kissed the top of your head.

You nodded miserably into his chest, still not looking up. “I was so scared. I thought I was the only one left.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep so I came down here and it didn’t even occur to me that you would wake up and think I was gone.”

Your hands grasped at his shoulders and he pulled you in tighter. “Don’t leave me again. Please.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

You exhaled a long, shaky breath; a few silent tears still slipping down your cheeks and onto his shirt. “I just don’t want to be alone when it happens.”

“Look at me,” he said softly, and you finally raised your head. You let go of his shoulders and he took your hands in his. “I promise I will never leave you again. We’ll go out together, ok? We’re a team now.”

You nodded your head again. “Yeah, ok.”

When he started to pull away, you grabbed onto his belt loops on either side of his waist and tugged him towards you. “Don’t leave.”

Five smiled down at you and brushed away the strands of hair that were sticking to your face. “I wasn’t going to leave.”

“No, I need you close to me. Please,” you whined.

It was pathetic and there’s no way in hell the old you would have ever begged a man to stay like that. But that was then and this was now, and things were different. You were different. And you didn’t care how you sounded.

“Ok,” Five answered quietly as he wrapped his arms around you.

But that still wasn’t enough and you pulled his face to yours with a hand on his neck, kissing him slowly at first but then starting to hungrily devour him. You were making desperate little whimpering noises into his mouth as you grabbed onto his body, pulling and clutching at him, even though there was nowhere else to go. He was as close to you as physically possible.

“You’re upset, maybe we shouldn’t…” he offered.

He was cut off when you reached between his legs and cupped his groin, feeling him grow harder against your hand as you rubbed him firmly. He let out a quiet moan and his eyes closed.

“I need you, Five. Please.”

You were practically in tears again with desperation. It was unhealthy and probably for all the wrong reasons, but you couldn’t help it. You needed as much of him as possible and as quickly as possible. It was the only way to feel ok again.

“I just think maybe you’ve been through a lot recently-“

Smothering him in hard kisses to shut him up, you stopped briefly to pull your shirt over your head, throwing it on the floor before undoing your shorts and letting them fall off of you. Five looked down at your body and let out a low groan.

“Shit,” he breathed out. “You’re not playing fair.”

He grabbed onto you, boosting you up onto the side of the pool table and stood between your legs. He was just as desperate for you now, but he backed away a couple inches and placed his hands on your shoulders so you would pay attention to him.

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

You shook your head, already not liking the fact that his body wasn’t against yours. “You’re not. I promise.”

It only took one look at your naked body and the hungry look on your face to convince him and he let you grab his shirt collar and pull him forcefully into you. You needed to feel his body on you, to feel his hot skin against you, and you desperately clawed at each button of his shirt until you pushed it down his arms and yanked the rest of it off. He kissed you with one hand in your hair and the other massaging your breast as you fumbled with the fly of his pants, finally gaining access and pushing them down his thighs.

When you grasped tightly to his firm cock and slid your hand over it, Five sucked in a sharp breath through clenched teeth and threw his head back. You moved forward a little, spreading your legs and guiding him inside. You were already soaking wet and he slid in with ease, pushing himself into you as you thrust your hips forward.

His mouth was on your neck as he slammed hard against you, shoving himself as far into you as he could manage while holding tightly to your hips.

You were delirious in your desire for him, not even making any sense as you scratched desperately at his back and shoulders, his arms and neck; pleading with him to give you more. There was no way he could be closer to you, with his mouth on your skin, his arms clinging tightly to your body, and his dick deep inside you. But it wasn’t enough. The tears were falling down your face again, mixing with the sweet taste of his lips.

He gradually slowed his pace, gently rolling his hips into you as his eyes locked onto yours and he wiped away a tear with his thumb.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, I’m here. You’re not alone, ok?”

When he called you sweetheart, it carried none of the teasing or derisiveness it had before. This time it was sincere and loving and you nodded, your body finally starting to relax a little and you let yourself give in; melting into him as he kissed you. But then your gaze drifted to the windows and he saw the fear in your eyes again.

“Look at me,” he said, turning your face back to him. “Focus on me. Can you feel that?”

Five thrust himself slowly but forcibly into you and you let out a breathy cry. Your body reacted and you pushed your hips into him again, letting go of his body and placing your hands behind you on the table to brace yourself.

“Yeah…it feels good,” you answered quietly, still maintaining eye contact.

“Then just focus on that. There’s nothing else, and you feel so good right now, baby.”

His hands grasped your hips tightly and you put all of your focus on him and the way he was making you feel.

“Five,” you sighed as your head fell back and your eyes closed. You felt his lips on your neck again and your legs wrapped tightly around him. “Keep talking. I want to hear your voice.”

He pressed into you harder, his movements deliberate while his breath was harsh and loud. You emitted a soft cry every time he rocked into you.

“I don’t need anything else. Just you. Only you.”

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

“I promise. I’m not going to leave you.”

Five’s hand was gripping your upper thigh while the other was around your lower back, holding you in place as he penetrated you harder and faster. His mouth was greedily sucking at your neck and jaw as he started to lose his control, pushing roughly into you as you used all your strength to brace yourself against the impact. It was blissful, this building feeling inside; how he knew just where and when to fuck into you, over and over again. You couldn’t get enough of his insistent kisses or passionate moans and it made you feel good; like you were high. And you wanted to keep that feeling with you forever.

“Oh god, Five…I want to be all yours. I want to belong to you.”

“You are mine, sweetheart. And I’m yours. And there’s no one else.”

He let out a shuddering groan as he came inside of you, the final thrust of his hips setting off a series of waves that spread over your body as you climaxed with him. Your entire body seemed to curl into him as your muscles spasmed and you moaned desperately into the crook of his neck, your fingers weaving tightly in his hair.

When you were both able to unfurl from each other, you smiled shyly at him and blushed. It was embarrassing, the way you had acted. But Five’s smile back at you was not mocking in any way and he kissed you gently before helping you down from the table.

“Are you ok?” he asked, his hands resting loosely on your hips.

“Yeah, I’m ok. I’m sorry…I don’t-“

“Don’t apologize, ok? You have nothing to be sorry for. And I meant everything I said.”

Even though you weren’t entirely convinced of that, you let it go and started to get dressed. After Five had put his pants back on, you both looked at each other and then to the terrifying fireball that filled the entire wall of windows.

“Can we go back now?” you asked nervously.

Not that it mattered where you went; no area of the hotel was safer than any other. But for whatever reason, the little homebase you and Five had made on the third floor felt safer. And you wanted to go back before you felt another panic attack creeping in.

Five nodded. “Come on, let’s go.”

Throwing his shirt on, but leaving it unbuttoned, he held your hand as you walked through the empty hotel lobby. You noticed his concerned glance to the bar area.

“Where are they?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. It’s possible they all went off with my father after all. Or maybe they decided to go back to their rooms.”

“Well, do you want to go look for them?”

He hesitated and shook his head again. “No, we said what we needed to. What’s done is done. There’s nothing more I can do.”

It wasn’t your place to say, so you offered nothing else besides a supportive squeeze of his hand. You didn’t think it was right for him to just give up that easily. Shouldn’t he at least make sure they were ok? But then again, you were the outsider here. You really had no idea of what they had been through as a family.

Once you were back in the room, you breathed a sigh of relief. You were ready to snuggle back into bed and go back to sleep, but Five was obviously agitated. He kept pacing the room, unable to relax and he had shut down again; not wanting to talk about anything.

“Five,” you started hesitantly. “It’s ok if you want to make sure they’re alright.”

He stopped pacing momentarily to look at you, then continued with his head down and his hands balled into fists. “There’s no point, I told you. There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing anyone can do. If they’re gone, they’re gone. End of story.”

“Ok, yeah…I get that. But you’re obviously very upset and maybe it would just make you feel better if you found out for sure. Don’t you think so?”

Five halted again, his face screwed up in concentration and he let out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his hands in the air. “Nothing but aggravation!”

You frowned with confusion. “What?”

When he faced you, you could see the muscles straining in his neck as he finally unleashed what he’d been stewing about.

“Them! All of them! My entire life…nothing but aggravation from them! Here we are, with probably hours left in this universe, and they decide to just fuck off with no explanation?! After everything was done. We had closure. It was final. But do you think these assholes can keep things simple? Of course not! Now I’m going to have to traipse all over this god damn hotel looking for them because they can’t just stay in one spot and leave me the fuck alone!”

You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing. But you composed yourself and spoke calmly.

“Five, I heard you and your brothers talking earlier.”

“You did?”

“Yes. And I’m sorry I eavesdropped, but I did hear what you said and I know you care for them. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t find out what happened.”

“It doesn’t matter whether I forgive myself or not. The world is ending any moment now, so what’s the difference?”

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Just go. I’ll be ok.”

He shook his head. “No. I told you I wasn’t going to leave you again. I meant it.”

“It’s ok, really. I know you’ll be back. This is something you need to do by yourself, I don’t need to be involved.”

He looked at you thoughtfully. “I think I know where they are. Or least where they were. The White Buffalo Suite. I’m sure of it.”

You really didn’t want him to leave you, but he had already done so much for you. He was your protector when he had no reason to be. You felt that you owed him.

“Then, please, just go,” you insisted, making sure he was looking you in the eye.

Finally, he nodded slowly. “Ok. But I promise I will be back.”

“I know you will.”

He crossed the room to you, placing his hands on either side of your face and tilting your head up to look at him.

“I meant it, you know. I only want you. And I’ll be back; I won’t leave you.”

You blinked back the tears you felt forming again and swallowed the lump in your throat. But you knew he was telling the truth.

“I believe you. And I’ll be here when you get back.”

Without another word, he kissed you, and then he was gone; vanished in a blur of sizzling blue. You were alone.

The next half hour was anxiety-inducing. You had wanted Five to leave to find his family, you really did. But that didn’t ease the feeling of impending death that lingered in the air. You crawled into bed, lying down and covering yourself with the sheets, breathing in the scent that Five had left behind. It made your body ache to not have him near you, and you choked back the sobs you felt forming in your chest. It was so stupid. You weren’t a child. You could certainly be alone for an hour or two. But no matter what you told yourself, you were frozen with fear, listening for any sign that Five might be returning; the loud hiss and rumble of the kugelblitz outside a constant reminder of what precious time you had left.

The knock on the door made you jump and you sat up, thinking maybe you were just imagining things. But then it came again. Another knock; a clear and precise rapping that was most definitely real. You leaped out of the bed, not even thinking. You assumed it was Five and the thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he wouldn’t have knocked. He would have just blinked in like every other time.

Without looking through the peephole, you opened the door with a smile. But your smile fell immediately when you realized your mistake. Standing in front of you was none other than Reginald Hargreeves; hands clasped in front of him and an arrogant smile on his face. You gasped and took a step back.

“Hello, my dear. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

He looked over your shoulder and seeing that the room was empty, he took a step forward. That same fear that had gripped you when he approached you at the wedding washed over you and you were frozen in place.

“There’s no need to be frightened, child. I’m looking for Number Five. Is he here?”

You shook your head, unable to speak and Reginald chuckled.

“Do you know where he may have gone? I’m afraid it’s an urgent matter. As all things are these days.”

Finally, you found your voice. It was quiet and shaky, but you stood your ground and raised your head to face the man that terrified you. There was no way in hell you were about to tell him where Five was.

“I have no idea where he is. I haven’t seen him since the wedding. It’s just been me here.”

Reginald nodded solemnly, still wearing that knowing, half smile of his. You saw his gaze drift past you and land on the floor where Five’s suit jacket and tie had been left. He looked back at you, and his eyes narrowed just a little.

“I see. Well, no worries. I wanted to speak with you, as well.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. It’s a shame that you have been raised to believe you have such limits to your abilities. Had you been under my supervision, your powers would be stronger than you could have even imagined. I’m sorry your parents never taught you any different.”

“Don’t talk about my parents,” you seethed through clenched teeth. “I know what you tried to do. Buy me from them so you could raise me along with your other neglected children. Thank god they were smarter than that.”

“You misunderstand, my dear. I only want to see you reach your full potential.”

“Like you did with Five? He’s a fucking disaster, and it’s all because of you!”

Reginald shook his head sadly. “Number Five does have problems, I will admit. However, that was not I that raised him. That was a different, harsher, version of myself. I have nothing but respect and admiration for my current children.”

You snorted sarcastically. “Yeah, right.”

During your back and forth with Reginald, you hadn’t realized that he had taken several more steps and was now fully inside your room. He closed the door behind him with an ominous click and you backed up, even more frightened than you had been.

“The truth is, I am in need of more of you. I need your powers to save us. To save the world. I don’t wish to harm you; you must believe me. I only want to give all of us a chance.”

Your brow was furrowed with confusion. You certainly didn’t trust the man. But what he was saying was just what you had thought earlier when Five told you about Project Oblivion. If there was even a chance of survival, why wouldn’t you take it?

“I don’t believe you. Why should I trust you?”

Reginald smiled genially. “Why don’t you look for yourself?”

“What do you mean?”

“Read my emotions. I know that you can. Then you will see that I’m not the terrible person you think I am.”

You scoffed, but didn’t say anything. You had to think. On one hand, you absolutely did not trust him. On the other, what was there to lose? You knew for a fact that no one could hide their true feelings from you once you were connected to their consciousness. It would be impossible for them to lie. So, you really didn’t see what the downside would be. You would either see that he was telling the truth, or that he was lying just like you suspected.

“Alright,” you stated, holding your head up high.

“Excellent,” Reginald grinned happily.

You concentrated as hard as you could. The golden tendrils emerged and started growing, heading straight for Reginald’s mind. Once they reached him, you closed your eyes and looked deep within him. You searched for his emotions and his true intentions. But there was nothing. Just darkness. Something wasn’t right. This wasn’t possible. He couldn’t hide anything from you. That’s not how this worked.

You heard him laugh quietly and sinisterly, while you remained connected to him.

“My dear…I thought you were smarter than that. I created you. I can control you.”

The sudden pain was searing as it ripped through your brain, your skull, and your entire body. Like lightning, it coursed through you, sending you dropping to your knees. You clutched your head, screaming in agony as the white-hot light pierced your eyes. The golden tendrils that connected your mind to Reginald’s pulsed and wavered in the air between you, but you couldn’t break them. He held you there, in complete control of your body and mind. You had been so stupid not to have realized what he was capable of.

Reginald stepped closer to you, eyeing you while you writhed on the ground. His voice was like fire as he spoke, the vibrations traveling through the tendrils and directly into the cells and neurons of your brain.

“I’m sorry; truly I am. You have quite the gift, and it’s a shame to have to do this. But I have no alternative, I’m afraid. My ungrateful children seem to have forsaken me, and I need a replacement, you see. I need you. Both of you.”

It was hard to breathe and you curled into yourself on the floor, gasping for air as tears rolled down your cheeks. It was useless to try and fight back. You had tried to break the connection and it was impossible. He was too strong. No matter what you did, he held on, the pain screaming through your body as he stood over you.

“I can stop this, you know. All you have to do is come with me. And the pain will go away.”

The action of forming words and expelling air from your lungs was excruciating, but you gathered all the strength you had left.

“F-fuck…you!” you cried, your voice grating with pain.

You heard him laugh darkly, and another sharp pain shot through your skull. “So spirited. How about you just tell me where Number Five is, then? I know he wouldn’t have left you. He pretends to be a hardened old man like myself, but I’m guessing he’s quite fond of you.”

“I don’t…know…” you sobbed, holding your head in your hands.

With another menacing step forward, Reginald stood directly over you, staring down at your twisting body. You couldn’t see his face, but you heard his voice echoing in your ears and your brain.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, I’m afraid,” he threatened.

As another bolt of lightning shot through you, this one somehow hotter and more painful than the last, you were only partially aware of what was happening outside of your body. There was a faint flash of blue light and you heard your name in the distance. There was an angry yell, and then you saw Reginald’s body drop onto the floor in front of you, his head lying limply to the side and the monocle dropping from his eye.

His neck had been snapped and his eyes stared forward, devoid of life. The pain that had been constant and pulsing inside of you suddenly ceased. With a small whimpering sound, you looked up and saw the silhouette of Five kneeling next to you. You couldn’t speak and it was still hard to breathe, but right before you passed out you heard him tell you it was going to be ok, and he held your head in his lap; the shadow of his face falling over yours as he softly kissed your forehead.

You weren’t sure how long you were blacked out, but when you woke up you were lying down in the bed, your body tingling and your head still aching. But your lungs no longer burned and you could think clearly again. Someone was lightly stroking your hair and when your eyes fluttered open, the first thing you saw was Five.

He must have moved you to the bed, and he was sitting up against the headboard with your head in his lap again. His head was tipped back and his eyes were closed. But his fingers still carded lightly through your hair and you had a feeling he had been sitting with you for a while.

When you moved and started to lift yourself up, Five startled awake, disoriented at first, until he looked down and saw you awake. His face flooded with relief and he let out a heavy exhale.

“You’re awake,” he breathed out.

You sat up slowly, your head still foggy and your muscles aching. Then the memory of everything that happened came flooding back and you let out a loud gasp, whipping around to look at the spot on the floor where you had been tortured and you had seen Reginald’s dead body. The space was empty. As if nothing unusual had ever occurred there.

Five placed a hand on your arm. “It’s ok. He’s gone.”

When you turned back to him, you saw for the first time how tired he looked. And there was something else. A deep sadness that hadn’t been there before.

“He was in my head…I don’t know how…it was horrible…” you started to say, unable to fully understand everything that happened.

Five pulled you into him, holding you against his chest while he caressed your hair again.

“He was torturing you so you would submit to him and follow him to Oblivion.”

“It was like electricity burning through my body and my head felt like it was going to explode. I could feel him in my mind. But then…you were there and…he was dead.” You looked up at Five. “You killed him.”

“He was hurting you,” he said simply, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“Five.” You looked into his eyes and they were filled with pain. “He was your father.”

He shook his head. “No he wasn’t. And not only because this was a different version of the man that raised me. He was never our father. Because a real father would never do what he has done to his kids. And then when I saw him hurting you like that…” his voice trailed off and you saw him swallow. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, it’s done now. He’s gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Five. This is my fault. He came looking for you, but I didn’t want to tell him where you were, and then he told me to tap into his mind to see if he was lying and I did it. I don’t know why, it was so stupid. I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s ok. It’s not your fault. He had it coming, believe me. I probably should have done it a long time ago.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Ironic that he was the one that taught me how to snap a grown man’s neck.”

“Wait, what about your siblings? Did you find them?”

There was silence and you heard Five’s breath catch in his throat. “Not really. But I know what happened to them.”

“Oh no.”

“I was too late. He must have convinced them to go through the tunnel. I tried to go after them, but the entrance was sealed. They’re stuck in there now. Oh, and also he killed Luther.”

“What?”

“I found him in the suite, dead. The whole floor was covered in his blood. Someone killed him and I assume it was Reginald. I don’t know why though, but I’m sure it was all part of his plan.”

“Oh shit, Five. I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

He didn’t say anything more, but you felt a sudden shift in your mind. Like it wasn’t just your thoughts in there anymore. You felt immense grief and sadness; along with an intense anger that was directed toward yourself. But they weren’t your thoughts and you hadn’t connected to Five’s mind.

“Something strange is happening.”

Five sat up a little straighter. “I feel it too.”

“It’s like…I can feel you. Your emotions. They’re mixing with mine.”

“And I can feel yours, I think. How is this happening?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know, I’m not doing anything to make it happen. I don’t understand.”

“Reginald,” Five said, as if that explained everything.

“What about him?”

“When he was connected to you, I had my hands on his head before I snapped his neck. I think maybe some of that energy passed through me. Which means I retained some of your energy, too.”

You sat there, trying to understand what he was saying. He was still in your head; you could feel it. And you assumed you were in his, as well. It was like you were connected by some invisible conductor.

“I think that’s why my body is still tingling. It’s like it’s connecting with yours. Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” Five said quietly. “I can feel it.”

You looked at each other, not really knowing what to say next or what to do. Your consciousnesses were joined together and there were so many emotions swirling around in your brain that it was overwhelming. His, mixed with yours, created a confusing blend that made it hard to think.

“Can you read my thoughts?” Five asked.

You shook your head. “No, just your emotions. Why, can you read mine?”

“No. But it’s the same for me. I can feel everything you’re feeling.”

You were both silent for a minute as you tried to process everything that was passing between you.

“Well, this is fucking weird,” you finally said.

Five laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

You looked at him with a small smile, the connection between you seeming to deepen as you looked into his eyes, and you touched the side of his face with your hand.

“Thank you, Five.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For saving my life; for staying with me and helping me not lose my mind. For giving me several amazing orgasms.”

He grinned. “You’re welcome. But I’m not sure I can take credit for the last one. You gave me some pretty good instructions with that download.”

You laughed. “I don’t think that was it. I’m pretty sure your ego is the driving force behind that particular talent.”

He shrugged with a smirk and pulled you closer to him so he could kiss you. “Perhaps that was part of it.”

His lips were soft on yours, but there was something new there. Like an underlying current of electricity. But not the painful, white-hot electricity that coursed through your veins when Reginald had ahold of you. This was a warm, tingling feeling. Like a quiet hum through your body. It was comforting and you kissed him back deeply, trying to get more of that feeling.

“You felt that, too?” he breathed when you pulled away.

You nodded. “It’s like I feel closer to you. Like you’re a part of me.”

Five looked in your eyes again. “You are a part of me, there’s no denying that. But it’s not just because of whatever weird thing is happening here. It’s because you came to me at the last minute; when I had no more hope left in me. I was drained and empty inside. But you filled me up again; with your spirit and your kindness. And several amazing orgasms.” You laughed, even though you felt tears forming in your eyes. “So, thank you for giving me that. I’m sorry I couldn’t give us more time. I think we could have had something good together.”

“I think so, too,” you whispered.

You could feel his sincerity and his regret that you had run out of time. And there was something else there, but you pushed it away because it was too painful to think about.

“I’m so tired. I just want to lie here with you. Is that ok?”

“Of course it is.”

You moved your bodies so that he was holding you to him from behind again. You breathed out a long, contented sigh and pulled his arms tighter around you. Even though you were exhausted you laid awake for a few minutes.

“Are you scared?” you whispered.

Instead of an answer, you felt a wave of fear wash over you before it dissipated again. It had been from Five. You didn’t say anything, just pressed your body closer to his as a comfort to you both.

“Do you believe in an afterlife?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’m not sure. My brother says there is. I’m not entirely convinced, though.”

“I feel the same way.” You paused. “I guess we’ll find out, huh?”

“I guess we will.”

“If there is, do you want to meet up sometime? Like a date?”

You were joking, of course; trying to lighten the mood. But you felt Five bury his face in your hair and he kissed your shoulder.

“If there is an afterlife, I’ll find you. I promise you I will.”

There was nothing more to say, so you closed your eyes and drifted off; your body and mind weak and tired from Reginald’s earlier torture.

***********************************************

The deafening sound woke you with a start. The room around you was blazing bright and you could feel the waves of heat pulsing in the air. The walls were shaking and the pictures that had been hanging there crashed to the ground. The lamp on the nearby table smashed into pieces as it fell onto the floor. But it was the sound that was terrifying. It was like a train heading straight for you at top speed, the noise growing louder with each second. You let out a cry of fear and you felt Five hug you closer to him.

“It’s ok, I’m here,” he said calmly next to your ear.

You turned around so that you were facing him, keeping your body flush with his as you held on to each other. You started crying again and Five brushed away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“It’s happening. This is it, we’re going to die,” you choked out.

You had hoped to be braver in these last moments of life, but the truth was you were terrified and you couldn’t hide it. But Five appeared calm and the energy that you were picking up from him was peaceful and you welcomed it in, letting it flood your insides. It helped and you stopped crying. The noise was growing louder and the walls around you started to crumble, the glass in the window breaking into a million shards as it exploded all around you. You clutched onto each other even tighter, ignoring the tiny lacerations forming on your bodies, the blood painting your skin with pin prick dots of red.

“Just remember, I will find you. No matter what.”

Five spoke softly in your ear so that you could hear him over the roar of the fast-approaching fireball. With only a few seconds left, you opened your mind up fully, letting all of Five’s deep feelings wash over you. And you felt it. The one emotion you had been determined to push away. But you let it in, because there was no point in holding back now.

It was love. His love for you flowed into you and it was so strong that it momentarily blocked out the raging heat of the dying universe as it closed in on you. You held a hand on his cheek and gave him one last kiss. He could feel everything you were feeling, too. You had made sure he could. But he needed to hear you say it. He deserved to hear it from someone once in his life, even if it was the very end. Your eyes closed and you focused on his body and his breath and his heartbeat next to yours; making sure he heard you before the darkness came.

“I love you, Five.”

***********************************************

Epilogue

It was a Saturday afternoon, the fall air crisp outside and the sun shining low and into the tinted windows of the coffee shop. You sat in your usual spot, hunched over your book, idly sipping at your tea. This is where you spent most of your down time these days. The same coffee shop, the same table by the window if it was unoccupied, the same drink order. Your friends thought there was something wrong with you. They were probably right. But you’d been pulling away from them for the last few months anyway, so they had pretty much stopped asking if you were ok.

It had been this way for a year now. You weren’t sure why; there was no logical explanation you could come up with. You’d initially thought it had to do with entering your thirties and maybe it was a little bit of an early mid-life crisis. But then it stayed, enveloping you like a heavy blanket that you couldn’t shake from your shoulders.

One morning you had woken up like usual and something felt wrong. You tried to put your finger on it, tried to look back into your memory for something you must have forgotten. It was like that feeling you get when you walk into a room but forget the reason why you came there in the first place. Usually if you stand there long enough, it will come to you. This time, it never did.

And so, you went on with life; going to work, meeting up with friends, visiting your parents. Nothing had changed, it was all the same. Except it wasn’t. And you didn’t know how to explain it. There was just something…missing.

You started to decline invitations to parties or to dinners with your girlfriends. A couple times you had been asked out on dates by fairly good-looking men, but you lied and said you were in a relationship. You had lost the desire to interact with people. Even people you cared about. Instead, you found yourself in this same coffee shop, wiling away the hours, and trying to figure out what the hell happened to your life.

Something had happened to your powers, too. You no longer needed to concentrate so hard to read people’s emotions. The golden strands that would normally serve as a bridge from your mind to another were gone. It was concerning at first, when you accidentally gained access to the barista’s consciousness and was hit by a wall of boredom and mild depression. She hadn’t felt a thing, apparently. She just handed you your tea with a professional smile and moved on to the next person.

Even though it went against your moral code, you found yourself using your powers more often. Mostly just for something to do while you sat there, looking out the windows onto the busy city sidewalk. Anger. Doubt. Love. Anxiety. Happiness. Regret. Hope. Sadness. They all spread through you in a whirl as the passersby went about their day, having no idea they were just cracked open by a girl innocently sipping a mug of green tea. You liked feeling everything they were feeling in those brief seconds. It felt less alone. Less empty.

Your downloads didn't require nearly as much time or concentration, either. And despite knowing that it was wrong, it was fun to surprise strangers with random bits of information as they entered your personal space. The subway was particularly easy, and you liked to watch the reactions of the other commuters when a new fact suddenly jumped into their brain. There was no longer a golden orb and the information was downloaded quickly and precisely from your mind to theirs. It was even more fun to give them incorrect information. Although, you still felt guilty about making one man get off at the incorrect stop just because you wanted to see if you could do it.

You glanced up at the window like you normally did, already bored with your book. You watched as men and women walked by; most of them at a much more leisurely pace since it was the weekend. When you saw him walking towards you, you didn’t think much of it at first. It took a few seconds before your brain caught up to your eyeballs. But then it hit you like a fucking brick.

Grasping the edge of the table with both hands, you squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your teeth as the images flooded through you. They came at you so fast, it was like one of those books that makes moving animation when you flip through the pages super-fast. But you could still see everything; you could still register what was happening. It was all there. The hotel, the wedding, the giant orange fireball outside, your fear and helplessness. And Five. His face and his body, the way his hands felt on your skin and in your hair, the sound of his voice as he whispered in your ear. How safe you had felt when he held onto you even at the last moment.

When the images suddenly stopped flashing through your brain, your eyes flew open and you sucked in a loud, gasping breath. The people around you turned and you heard one woman ask if you were ok. But you didn’t answer. You were too busy looking out the window, frantically searching for his now familiar face. But he was gone again.

Jumping up, knocking your tea over onto your book, you grabbed your purse and ran out of the cafe. You started hurrying through the crowds of people, ignoring their grumbles and curses as you pushed past them. You couldn’t see him anywhere. How was that possible? He had just been there, walking in this very direction. You had only seen him briefly before the images poured into your brain, but you knew it was him. Slightly older and with no three-piece suit, he had still been wearing a white dress shirt and black pants, his head angled down at the ground as he had walked with purpose, his dark hair falling over one eye.

That panicky feeling started to rise up in you again as you increased your pace, jogging in front of and around people, your eyes searching everywhere around you. So, that when you collided directly into another person, you let out a loud “oof” as you were pushed back a couple steps by the impact. You didn’t fall, but you lost your footing a little until a hand reached out and grabbed your arm, steadying you. In an instant, your body was filled with a warm, tingling sensation and you looked up.

When you locked eyes, you were both startled and you stood there staring at each other in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing people to walk around you. Finally, he spoke.

“It’s you.”

You nodded slowly, your voice trembling. “I remembered. When I saw you, I remembered everything.”

“I was just walking and then it hit me after I passed that coffee shop. And I remembered you. I don’t know how I didn’t remember before…but I knew I had to go back. For months something has felt wrong…it was always like-“

“Like something was missing?”

Five smiled. “Exactly. It was you. I was missing you.”

“Our connection with my powers. I don’t think it ever left. We just needed to meet again for everything to fit back into place.”

Five nodded as you both continued to breathe hard, staring at one another.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, even as he was already pulling you closer.

“I think you better,” you answered with a smile.

It didn’t matter that you were blocking the sidewalk in the middle of the day, or that angry citizens were shoving past you and telling you to get a room. As soon as Five kissed you, another flood of memories came back. Only this time, it was that same soft electrical feeling through your body. That quiet hum of energy. And you could feel everything he was feeling again. Relief, desire, and love.

When you managed to pull away from each other, you still held on, your arms encircling his shoulders and his hands on your waist. He leaned down and placed his forehead against yours.

“You promised you would find me. And you did.”

“I’m sorry it took so long,” he said softly as he closed his eyes and kissed you again.

“Five? Does this mean this is actually the afterlife? That we’ve been dead the whole time?”

Five looked around and shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. This is real life. But it must be an alternate dimension or timeline, it’s hard to say. It looks like when the universe exploded, it created a new one in its place. Like a backup.”

“So…we get to just go about living our lives?”

“Looks that way. But now we can do that together. Assuming, of course, that’s what you want.”

You brushed a strand of hair off his face and smiled up at him. “I want nothing more.”

Five pulled you in tighter for one more kiss before taking your hand and walking over to the side, out of everyone’s way.

“I suppose we should start getting to know one another a little better. Outside of the bedroom, anyway. I feel pretty confident I know you well enough in that regard,” he joked as he rubbed his thumb over the inside of your wrist.

You raised one eyebrow. “I don’t know, I may have some super secret kink that I never showed you.”

He pushed you gently against the building you were standing in front of and held your face in his hand.

“Sweetheart, I would love to learn every kinky, sexually depraved thing about you. And I intend to indulge in all of them. But right now, how about we go back to that café you were in and we talk over coffee. You know, like normal people that don’t have the end of the world breathing down their neck.”

“I’d like that. Oh, but I actually only drink tea. I’m not a coffee person.”

The horrified look Five gave you made you laugh out loud, it was so overdramatic.

“What?”

Five shook his head in disappointment. “It’s a damn good thing I already know how good you are in the sack, otherwise this date may have ended before it began.”

As you giggled and kissed his frowny face, you sighed happily.

“I love you, Five.”

“I love hearing that again. And I love you, too.”

Link to my Master List

#five hargreeves smut #five hargreeves x you #number five x reader #number five #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves imagine #tua fanfiction #tua fanfic #five hargreeves #tua five #number five fanfic #five hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy #umbrella academy fanfic #badkittywrites

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astupidweeb69 · 9 months

Text

Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9

Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!

Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.

Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)

____________________________________________________________

Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold.

Toby was not pleased.

Not pleased with how things were going with you.

And not pleased with being texted by Tim.

Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight.

He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes.

It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.

“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”

The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.

“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.

“Had something he needed to do.”

Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.

“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.

Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.”

Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.

“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”

Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman.

They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look.

“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees.

Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation.

“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”

“Take a closer look, Rogers.”

Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.

He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay.

Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.

“Well?”

“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a human.”

“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.

“Just fucking spit it out.”

The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”

“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?”

“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”

“Don’t we already duh-do that?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”

“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”

“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.

The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar.

He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….

“Rogers!”

A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.

“Wuh-What?”

“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”

He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.

Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.

They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.

Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.

But things never worked out the way he wanted.

Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .

Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.

“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”

Fuck.

Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.

“Wuh-what do you need?”

He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.

“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.”

The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.

“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.

Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.

“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”

Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.

“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

______________________________________________________________

The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.

“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.”

Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out.

Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.

Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.” The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.

Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.

Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.

He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.

“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.

Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”

He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.

He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.

“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”

Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside.

Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.

After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.

His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.

But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway,

It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.

“Whuh-what is it?”

There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.

“Did you hear that?”

#ticci toby #creepypasta #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #yandere creepypasta x reader #yandere ticci toby x reader #unrequited #yandere #fanfiction #my writing #masky creepypasta #ticci toby creepypasta #ticci toby x you #yandere creepypasta

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year

Text

written for @eddiemonth Day 7 Prompt: Wayne

note: this one is in Wayne's POV and it's a little different than how I usually write, but it means the absolute world to me, so I hope you all enjoy it!

read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Eddie Month series

Wayne Munson remembers the exact moment he found out he was going to be an uncle.

It was a frigid January morning in Hawkins. The heater in the Munsons’ trailer had stopped working a week before, and Wayne had been too busy working days and taking night classes at the junior college in the next town over to fix it.

His mama had said she would call Al to come help, but Wayne knew the odds of him stopping by were slim to numb. He had better things to do than check in on his mother and younger brother. Things like keeping the Hawkins police department busy with his petty crime schemes and treating his latest girlfriend with little to no respect. A packed schedule in Al’s eyes.

So, when Wayne stepped out of the trailer that January morning, bundled in his worn winter coat, he nearly tripped and fell on his ass when he spotted Al on the hood of his car, leisurely smoking a cigarette.

“Evelyn is pregnant,” Al said between puffs of smoke. “She’s keeping it. M’gonna be a pa.”

A range of emotions washed over Wayne at that moment. Anxiety for Al and Evelyn and their unborn child. Al wasn’t exactly father material, and it’s not like they had a dad to learn from. Happiness for their family and the joy a new baby would bring the Munson’s. Worry, mainly for Evelyn and the baby, but also for Al and how something like this was going to affect the small gains he’d made that year.

But mostly, and Wayne would never tell anyone this, he felt jealous.

Wayne was the one who babysat the neighbor kids when they were younger to make a quick buck while Al schemed. Wayne was the one who always waved to babies in the grocery store line. The one who always snuck his coworkers’ kids candy at the annual Fourth of July BBQs. And remembered to send well wishes home on their birthdays.

Wayne was the one who loved kids. Who wanted kids. But would never, ever get to have kids for reasons he was too ashamed to admit most days.

Unlike Al, who would have let the jealousy fester into something nasty, Wayne choked it all down and gave in to the happier emotions. Promising to be there for Al and Evelyn and his new nephew.

A promise he kept for all nine months of Evelyn’s pregnancy (going on midnight craving runs when Evelyn moved into the Munson trailer after getting kicked out of her own house and then nervously pacing the maternity ward on Halloween night when she finally went into active labor after three false alarms). He kept his promise for the entire first year of Eddie’s life. Helping with feedings and changings. And anything else he could do.

Wayne was the one to drive Evelyn and Eddie to the hospital the first time he caught a cold and wouldn’t stop coughing. He was there the first time Evelyn fed him mushy baby food that Eddie ended up spitting up all over the place. He saw Eddie roll over for the first time and crawl. He was even there for Eddie’s first nonsensical word — a bastard version of “mama” that sent Evelyn into hysterics and had Al rolling his eyes.

Wayne was ready to be there for all of Eddie’s first, but then fate reared its ugly, no-good, wicked head, and suddenly, Wayne was being shipped off to boot camp to fight in a war he spent the last three years protesting against.

But his birthday was called, and Wayne had no choice but to suit up and fight.

Well, no, that’s not true.

There was one way to get out of the draft.

But the thought of admitting to having homosexual tendencies was more terrifying than dying overseas. So, he kept his mouth shut and went and did his time.

Five years to be exact.

Five grueling, traumatic, waste of his youth years.

Most importantly, five years without his nephew.

Eddie was six, almost seven years old, when Wayne finally made it back home to Hawkins. Unruly curls, just like Wayne once had before the military got involved. Big brown eyes that, despite only being 7, he knew how to use to get him out of trouble. And a brilliant, imaginative mind that captivated Wayne the moment he scooped Eddie into his arms after coming home and Eddie asked, “Ma, who is this bald guy? And why is he trying to squeeze the poop out of me?”

Wayne knew he’d never get those five years back, but he promised himself to try and make up for them every chance he got. And so “Waynesdays” was born.

Every third Wednesday of the month, Wayne would spend with Eddie. Sometimes, he’d show up at Evelyn and Al’s trailer early in the morning to pick Eddie up before he went off to school. With Evelyn’s permission, Eddie would ditch and they’d spend the day uncle-nephew bonding. Other times, Wayne would be waiting outside the gates of Eddie’s school, ready to whisk him away as soon as the dismissal bell rang.

(“Uncle Wayne, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie would shout, running into Wayne’s arm with enough force to send them toppling into the grass. The falls weren’t great for Wayne’s war-torn body, but he never complained. Nothing a frozen bag of peas and a cigarette couldn’t fix the next morning.)

Whatever the case, the third Wednesday of every month was dedicated to them.

The first few years, it was simple things. Wayne would take Eddie out for ice cream before stopping at the library. They’d spend hours walking up and down the aisles. Wayne telling Eddie stories that rivaled the books on the shelves. They’d go antiquating — a hobby Wayne inherited from his own mother that Eddie seemingly inherited when he took an interest in Garfield merchandise.

(“He’s just so fat, Uncle Wayne!” Eddie laughed, squeezing the plush belly of a Garfield stuffed animal. “I want to be fat like him one day! Don’t you?”)

As Eddie got older, their adventures stretched beyond the Hawkins city limits. Wayne took him to Indianapolis at least twice a year. Introduced him to music. Took him to see movies at the fancy cineplex in the city that sold a tub of popcorn bigger than Eddie’s head. He even promised to take Eddie to the colorful bar they always passed as soon as he turned 21.

(“But that’s such a long time away,” Eddie had whined, grubby fingers pressed into the glass of the window as he peered inside. “Are you sure I can’t go in there now? They have an arcade machine! Those are for kids!”)

In the summers, Waynesday because Waynesweek.

When Eddie was younger, they spent the week camping. Two sleeping bags side by side in a tent. They’d trade imaginative stories around a campfire and roast marshmallows until they were burnt to a crisp. The trips were hard on Wayne at first — bringing back memories of the war. But seeing Eddie smile and roll around in mud without a care in the world was worth every sleepless night.

(“If I catch the frog, can I bring it home?” he shouted one summer, arms already elbow-deep in the swampy puddle. “I promise to take care of it!”

“M’sure you would, boy,” Wayne said, cigarette between his lips. “But your ma would kill me if I let ya bring a frog into r’home. You know she’s afraid of ‘em.”)

Eventually, Eddie grew out of camping, and then their summer weeks were spent lounging in the trailer. They’d go days without leaving, living off of the groceries they stocked up on on the first day of Waynesweek. The couch always had a permanent butt dent after those weeks, but Wayne loved them all the same. Especially the ones that were spent hunched over board games and later hunched over scribbled-out notes and too many-sided die as Eddie explained some new, complex game to him.

(“Okay, Uncle Wayne, so now that you made it to the fortress wall, you have to roll this one,” he said, passing Wayne a hexagon-looking dice. “And then whatever you get, we multiply it by the number here, and then if it’s high enough, you get to come inside.”

“Now how come you can do multiplication in this game, but your ma says you got a bad grade on your last math test?” Wayne asked, brows raised as he rattled the die in his hands.

“‘Cause school math is boring!” Eddie said, rolling those big brown eyes of his. “There’s no dragons in Ms. Tabbot’s class. Just boring old numbers!”)

Waynesday was a tradition Wayne held so near and dear to his heart that even after Evelyn unexpectedly passed away, Al landed himself permanently behind and Eddie ended up moving into Wayne’s trailer, he still kept up.

Sure, things got a bit more complicated between them now that they saw each other every day, multiple times a day, with no breaks. They sure got on each other nerves a bit more.

(“Dammit, Eds,” Wayne cursed, tripping over a pair of Eddie’s boots thrown haphazardly in the middle of the hallway. “What’d I say about leavin’ these things lyin’ ‘round. They’ve got a home, put’m there.”

“Fine,” Eddie groaned, coming out of his bedroom to pick up the shoes. “But then stop leaving your half-drank coffee cups in the bathroom! Why are you even taking it in there?”)

And they fought, like most children do with the authority figures in their lives.

(“That’s the second time Hop has let you off with a warning,” Wayne tsked, stalking behind Eddie as they climbed up the few steps to the trailer. “Neither of us are gonna be too nice if it happens again.”

“You make it sound like I was stealing. I ditched one class. It’s no big deal.”

“Those grades of yours say otherwise.”

Eddie growled, rolling his eyes as he tore through the kitchen cabinets, looking for a snack. “This again? My grades are fine, Wayne. Okay. Stop worrying!”)

Sure, things were tough at times, but they also learned some important things about each, too. Things neither one of them thought they’d ever share in common with someone in Hawkins, Indiana.

(“Where ya going, boy?” Wayne asked one night a few years ago when he walked into the trailer to find Eddie shoving random things into a duffle bag. The same duffle bag that Wayne had carefully placed in the backseat of the truck all those years ago when he picked up Eddie for the final time.

“M’leaving,” Eddie said through gritted teeth. “And don’t even try to stop me, Wayne. Trust me, you’re not going to want me anymore.”

A million and one things ran through Wayne’s head in that moment. Had Hopper caught Eddie ditching school again? Had he got his hands on that letter from Al ,Wayne had been hiding in the junk drawer? Was Eddie in some kind of trouble? Bigger trouble than ditching school and smoking pot at the quarry?”

“Boy, what are you talkin’ about?” Wayne asked, stalking over to where Eddie was currently shoving tape after tape into the duffle bag. “M’always gonna want ya ‘round.”

Eddie scoffed and kept his eyes trained on the tapes. It was easy for Wayne to see that Eddie was barely holding it together. The tapes shook in his hands and his growing hair did little to shield his red-rimmed eyes.

“Eddie,” Wayne sighed, slowly lowering himself to the ground despite the protests of his body. “Come on, talk to me. Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

“You—you can’t. Not with this,” Eddie said, violently shaking his head. And then, in a moment of bravery, Eddie lifted his head and looked Wayne square in the eyes and said, “I’m gay, Wayne. Okay? That’s why m’leaving. And don’t even—“

Wayne cut Eddie off before he could finish whatever insult or wrong assumption was sure to follow. He pulled Eddie into his arms, tucked the boy’s head into the crook of his neck and held him tight. The same way he did all those years ago when he had to be the one to tell the boy that his ma had passed. And Eddie cried. Then and now. Big, fat, hot tears that soaked Wayne’s shirt.

“Eds, boy, look at me,” Wayne said later when Eddie’s sobs had subsided into a steady stream of silent tears. “You ain’t going nowhere, okay? And you ain’t alone either. I know what you’re goin’ through. M’like you, too.”

“Y-you, you’re gay?”

“Yeah,” Wayne said after a painfully long moment. It was a truth he had never let himself think too much about. But now, sitting in the presence of his nephew, who was more like him than he originally thought. Well, now, Wayne thought it was time to accept that part of him. Especially if it would help his nephew. “Yeah, boy. M’gay.”)

So, yeah, living with Eddie full-time had its ups and downs. But no argument, even the ones that lasted days because they were both too stubborn to apologize, was going to stop them from celebrating Waynesday every third Wednesday of the month. Nor was Eddie’s newly minted twenty-year-old selfless heart that worried way too much about Wayne. But he can’t really fault the boy for that.

(“Wayne,” Eddie had sighed just last month. “We really don’t have to keep doing this. You should be able to rest on your one real day off of the month.”

“Nonsense boy,” Wayne said, shooing Eddie off with the back of his hand. “Only thing I want to do on my day off s’spend time with you. Unless you’re too busy for your old uncle now.”

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. “You know I always have time for you.”

“Good.” Wayne smiled. “Then get that boney ass of yours over here and let’s watch that movie you picked up before I get charged another late fee.”)

Nothing had ever come in the way of their Waynesday tradition before, and Wayne sure as hell wasn’t going to let something break the tradition now.

“Hey, boy,” Wayne says, settling himself on the worn visitor chair in Eddie’s hospital room. “S’the 16th. Know what that means, right?” He pauses and waits for Eddie’s answer, which he knows isn’t coming. It’s been almost a month since he last heard Eddie speak, twenty days since he stumbled into Hawkins Memorial to find his nephew hooked up to machine after machine. But Wayne’s not giving up hope. Not even close. He’ll be sitting here ’til the cows come home.

“Yep,” he says eventually, patting Eddie’s IV-covered hand. “It’s Waynesday again. I’ll tell you what, time sure is gettin’ faster and m’getting older.”

The steady, rhythmic beats of the machines keeping Eddie alive echo off the walls of the too-white room. Wayne listens to them for a moment, a weird sort of peace washing over him. S’long as they’re beeping, my boy’s still here, he thinks.

Sighing, he reaches into the small backpack at his feet. The one he’s been carrying back and forth from the hospital when Eddie’s friends come to take the morning shift. He pulls out a blanket, shaking it out before draping it over his own body. And then he pulls out a worn paperback book.

“Now, I know it’s been a while since we had one of those readin’ days you loved so much, but I thought maybe we could bring’m back,” he says, carefully opening the pages of the book. His hand traces down the first page, past the sticky finger stain of Eddie’s youth. “You best be patient with me, Eds. Y’know these names always trip me up. But m’gonna give it my best, okay?”

Wayne pauses again, waiting for a response he knows he’s not going to get. And then he takes a deep breath and brings the book closer to his face. “In a hole in the ground there lives a h-hobbit.”

Eventually, the words start to blur together. Sentences turning into one long, giant word. And then, soon after, the letters start to blur too, until Wayne’s eyes are drooping and the book falls from his shaking hands into his awaiting lap.

It’s not long after that Wayne’s soft snores fall into a steady rhythm with the beeping of Eddie’s machine.

Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore. Beep. Snore.

And so it goes for several hours until—

Beep, beep, beepbeepbeepbeep.

Wayne shoots out of the chair, wobbly feet struggling to find their footing as he turns to the bed. Eddie’s lying there, like he always is, except this time, his big brown eyes stare back at him. Full of life and love and fear as he reaches a weak, shaky hand up to claw at the tube shoved down his throat.

He doesn’t remember calling for the nurse, but they rush into the room in an instant. Circling Eddie’s bed like an animal stalking its prey. Its minutes of chaos. Nurses running to fetch doctors. Machines beeping erratically. Alarms blaring. Orders being shouted left and right.

Someone is crying, Wayne thinks, as his ears cut through the cacophony of noise when he’s pushed into the hallway. Oh it’s me, he realizes as he reaches a hand up to his tearstained cheeks.

And then, just as quickly as it started, the chaos dies down and Wayne is let back into the room. Just Wayne and Eddie. Alone. Alive. Together.

He doesn’t wait a moment longer and wedges himself onto the small hospital bed next to Eddie, wrapping his arms around his frail nephew.

“D-d-did I miss it?” Eddie stutters out.

With a gruff laugh and a tearful glance at the watch on his wrist, Wayne turns to Eddie and smiles. “No, son, you made it just in time.” He twists his arm, showing Eddie the watch. The big hand points almost completely at the 12. The smaller hand settled perfectly over the 58th tick.

“Our streak continues,” Eddie whispers before his eyes flutter shut, and his body falls into its first machineless slumber in twenty days.

#eddiemonth #wayne munson #wayne munson fic #wayne munson ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson & wayne munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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emepe · 5 months

Text

— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The killer has the police fooled. Meanwhile, you and Eren enjoy more of each other’s company.

— Content warnings: slightly nsfw, dry humping, make out, mention of stalking, murder, mention of torture, mention of rape.

— Notes: Welcome to chapter 7 <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

lost signs

“Detective.”

A meek voice pulls Levi's attention from the paperwork scattered across his desk, as a fresh manila folder is promptly set down before him.

“The notes on the autopsy.”

Every other task is instantly abandoned as the raven-haired man grabs the folder and goes through the pages of the autopsy report, along with the notes provided by his subordinate.

Less than an hour later, Levi's knocking on the door of his captain's office, staying true to his habit of walking in before being invited.

“What do you have there?”

Erwin Smith barely spares a proper look at Levi as he continues scrolling through a file on his computer.

“Carly Stratmann's autopsy notes.”

Erwin simply nods, not showing much interest in the topic but not yet doing anything to shoo the stoic detective from his office.

“You're the lead detective on this case. Don't tell me you need me to hold your hand for this.”

Levi clicks his tongue at the remark, but straightens his posture to keep up his stern appearance.

“I think we need to raise a few alarms.”

Erwin shoots a menacing look in his direction, but purses his lips before he can spout another sharp remark.

Levi Ackerman hasn't been working the homicide department for long — just barely a couple of years after transferring from property crime, and just as many major cases under his belt.

His sudden need to raise alarms doesn't come as a surprise to Erwin. The man's got good instincts, albeit he's a bit too quick to act on them for Erwin's liking at times. And that's when he intervenes to rein him in.

On a day when he's so burnt out from work, the task is even more annoying to take on than usual.

“Is it the same M.O. as the Langnar case?”

“Not exactly, but—”

“I'll stop you right there, then,” Erwin firmly says, holding a hand up to make his point, hoping he can cut today's coolly disguised frenzy short.

Though calm and collected — practically icy — on the outside, detective Ackerman has been letting his personal convictions sway his thinking since the Langnar murder.

Erwin doesn't care to know much about his subordinates — it's just a job — but he knows Ackerman has a beloved niece of similar age to the recent murder victims living in the city, and it doesn't take much to deduce that's where his hidden worries stem from.

“There aren't many coincidences, it's true,” Levi states, resisting the urge to harshly spit the words at his superior. After all, a man who wants to be heard, has no need to raise his voice. “But even if these are isolated cases, it wouldn't hurt to… I don't know, set up a curfew… send out more units to patrol at night. Erwin, two women were murdered without a trace of DNA from the culprit.”

He sighs, then mutters the next few words under his breath.

“That's not a fucking coincidence.”

Erwin leans forward into his desk.

“Alright, Ackerman, I'll humor you for a minute.”

His hands clasp together, his chin resting on top as he formulates a question.

“Aside from the lack of DNA and the fact that they're women, is there anything in the autopsy reports that's enough to suspect we've got a serial killer in our hands?”

Levi tenses his jaw, tongue rolling against his cheek before sourly replying.

“No.”

Erwin's eyebrows rise as a sign of finality. But Levi stands his ground, taking his gesture as defiance.

“I get your point. Stratmann could have nothing to do with Langnar. Maybe it was someone they knew or maybe it's not. If that's the case, are two criminals better than one? Is that what we're hoping for?”

Erwin's stern gaze falters for a split second, but he recovers just as quickly.

“How do we discard a serial killer in the making? What if this person hasn't fixed themselves on their M.O.? We can get them early in their career if we make a move right n–”

“We can't make moves based on gut feelings.”

Erwin's statement makes Levi shrink back for the first time since walking into the office.

“Langnar was tortured. Her injuries were consistent with weeks of trauma. Choked, handcuffed, cut, beaten, sliced at the mouth post-mortem, and dismembered. A very tedious and meticulous process, wouldn't you say? She had to have spent weeks in captivity and that points to either a person who was close enough to lure her into their trap or a stalker who observed her before kidnapping her.” He gestures for Levi to hand him the file in his hands, snatching the folder and ripping it open once he's close enough. “Stratmann was sliced at the neck, choked beforehand, raped post-mortem. It's sloppy and clear to have been done on a whim.”

“She was left in a dumpster, too,” Levi reminds him. “Just like Langnar.”

Erwin presses his lips into a thin line, his thick eyebrows weighed down with severity.

“That's not enough to go off of. We can't cry ‘serial killer’ over one measly coincidence.”

Levi can feel himself wavering at Erwin's arguments.

“Can we at least impose a curfew?” he asks.

Erwin heavily sighs, enough for the movement to be caught on his now slumping shoulders.

“As I said, bring me solid proof of a connection and we'll talk.”

“Okay. Spill,” Mikasa orders as soon as she scurries out of the bathroom and plops down criss-crossed on the sofa.

It's Saturday night and you and Sasha are staying over at Mikasa's place for a girl's night.

The living room floor is littered with blankets, cushions and pillows, and the television is playing a random horror movie that has gone ignored since Sasha wondered out loud how Eren was doing a few minutes ago. She seemingly asked nobody in particular, but it was clear you were meant to respond with both girl's eyes set on you the moment the green-eyed man's name came up.

You figured the sleepover was a cover for an ambush. The girls formed a separate group chat for just the three of you, coincidentally the day after your first date with Eren and have been asking to get together for the past week.

You tug nervously at the sleeve of your pajama top, shying away from the expectant gaze that seeps through Mikasa's face mask.

You shrug.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Who made the first move?” Sasha asks, scooting closer to you as if that means she'll get more details.

You ponder for a moment. It's hard to tell. Eren was first to ask you out two months ago, but you were the first to kiss him last Saturday. In a way, you both had a chance to steer the wheel.

When you explain this to the girls, they swoon, falling into a fit of excited giggles.

“I never pegged you for the bold type,” Mikasa grins, lightly smacking your shoulder. “I bet Eren loved that.”

Sasha nods in agreement, giddy.

“I can't believe you didn't tell us right away,” Mikasa pouts.

“I don't think you would've remembered, Mika,” you say. “You had three Long Islands that night.”

“Still, it would've been nice to know,” she sighs dramatically.

“Okay, so you got together the night of the Halloween party,” Sasha reviews. “But what about the day we went to Sunrise? I totally thought you guys had a thing going on back then. I mean, Eren never left your side, even before you got hurt.”

The apple-picking trip seems like so long ago, but the memory remains fresh in your mind. You smile at the mental image of Eren's serious expression as he claimed to never have been so curious to know anyone before you.

“Oh my gosh,” Mikasa squeals, aggressively smacking Sasha’s back as she's reminded of something. “She was feeding him peanuts on the way there. They were so shy, it was adorable.”

Instinctively, your hands come up to cover your face in embarrassment. It didn't even register until now that the people in the backseat witnessed the awkward exchange.

Now that you've tasted the lips that brushed against your fingertips that day, the reminder seems even more embarrassing.

You smack your cheeks lightly in an attempt to ground yourself. The girls watch you amusedly, exchanging knowing glances in between.

“Have you guys… you know.” Mikasa raises her eyebrows suggestively.

Warmth floods your cheeks again.

“Not yet,” you murmur. “We're taking things slow.”

She looks surprised, but nods in support.

“Of course,” she says. “Slow is good.”

“Says the girl who pounced on Jean after one of his gigs because she was jealous.”

“Hey!” Mikasa whines, growing shy at the accusation. “I had to get a message across. He was being petty.”

Sasha throws her head back in laughter.

“No, he was just stupid. He had no idea you liked him back until that night.”

Your gaze flickers between the two girls as you piece their conversation together.

A blushing Mikasa picks up a cushion and chucks it at Sasha’s face who easily avoids the blow and laughs at the raven-haired girl's pout.

“Whatever,” Mikasa groans. She turns to look at you, features instantly shifting into a more cheerful expression.

“So how do you feel?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“About Eren.”

“It's only been a week,” you explain.

“So?” she shrugs. “You guys have been spending a lot of time together, haven't you? Armin told me Eren's been driving you to work everyday. That means you've had a lot of one-on-one time.”

Shyly, you lower your head, focusing your gaze on the black and white pattern of the comforter laid beneath you. Your fingers mindlessly trace over the texture of the fabric.

“I guess so.”

Both girls smile.

“So what's the verdict?” Sasha asks.

“I… I really like him,” you sigh, lips tugged into a smile. “Like… really really like him.”

Another round of excited squeals and giggles echoes through the room.

Their thrill only encourages you further, pushing you into a tangent of how thoughtful Eren is and how he always manages to hold you with so much care, bringing you peace each time he's close.

“He makes me feel safe. Is that weird to say?”

Mikasa shakes her head as she peels off the mask from her face, wrinkling the sheet into a ball and chucking it across the room to the trash can in one corner. She misses by an inch.

“Not at all. I don't mean to sound old-fashioned but you have to be with someone who makes you feel cared for.”

Sasha hums in agreement as she shoves a handful of popcorn into her mouth. She holds a finger up, asking you to wait for her to gulp down the snack.

“And someone who makes you laugh, also very important.”

You nod along with Mikasa.

“Oh, and… well, when you get to it… someone you're sexually compatible with,” she adds. “People like to pretend it's not a big deal but it really is. Sex is okay but great sex with someone who knows how to touch you is where you find out if you're in sync. There needs to be communication and understanding and care. It's so fucking important.”

Mikasa looks down at her friend as she pats her head affectionately.

“You're so wise for someone who doesn't have a boyfriend.”

Sasha quirks an eyebrow.

“Hey, just because I'm not blurting it out to everybody doesn't mean I don't have anything going on.”

Mikasa hums contemplatively.

“Do tell.”

The conversation takes a turn to Sasha’s latest sexcapades, and you take turns with Mikasa to look surprised at the stories she shares.

By the end of the night, when you're all teetering the edge of sleep with a third movie serving as background noise, your mind drifts back to the emerald-eyed boy who makes you laugh so easily, draws every emotion from you, and cares for you like it's what he was put on this earth for.

Water pools at your feet out of thin air. You’re stuck in a dark void with no end, yet the water your eyes frantically search the source of keeps rising at a startling speed, soaking little by little into your clothes until it weighs you down.

Running seems futile. The void has no end and the water keeps steadily climbing up your body, so who knows how long you’ll have until you’re fully submerged — with no exit in view. Even if you could run, the weight of your drenched clothes would only pull you back. But you can’t even move anyway, you realize. You’re stuck in place, feet unable — or unwilling — to even take a couple of waddling steps.

The water is up to your hips now. With trembling hands, you reach down and scoop at the liquid. It’s thick and with a smell so rancid it stretches through the infinite length of the emptiness you stand in. The water’s filthy.

Your hands drop at your sides in an unsettling daze. The next second, your breath grows shallow and you start pulling at your feet as the water reaches your neck. Tears prick at your eyes as you cry at your feet, begging for them to move, to lift from the ground so you could at least make some weak attempt at reaching the surface for air.

Suddenly, a light. Pure white shines brightly from far ahead, where a golden silhouette stands at the threshold between darkness and light — the void’s borders. The other person bangs their fists at the invisible wall keeping you apart, yelling something you can’t make out. Are they yelling at you? No, they don’t even seem to notice your presence. So who are they yelling at? Up at the sky… They’re yelling something up at the sky. But what are they saying? Who does the golden silhouette even belong to?

Your left foot unsticks from the ground unprompted. A sharp breath is all you take before you make your first step toward the light, hand midair to call for the figure’s attention. Just then, an unknown body pulls you into them from behind, crashing your body down into the murky water, where your lungs fill with filth and your eyes flutter shut.

You wake with a small gasp coming through your lips. Still stiffened by the strange dream, your eyes are all that wander the unfamiliar room. The television is set to a screensaver, likely triggered by an extended lack of attention to whatever on-demand production was playing before you fell asleep. There’s a clutter of takeout containers on the coffee table and used glasses with remnants of soda that can safely be assumed to be flat by now.

Slowly, you stir on the velvet green sofa you’re lying on, when you take note of the firm hold around your waist, followed by the soft exhales released onto the crown of your head. You look down at the familiar watch wrapped around the wrist of the hand that holds you in place.

Oh, you think. That’s right. I’m at Eren’s place.

He’s been having trouble catching up on work, meaning he’s had to stay up late for the past couple of nights. He’s a stickler about getting a good night’s rest, so the temporary change in work shifts has thrown him off quite a bit. You told him to stay home and rest — that you could go to the movies another time; next Sunday was fine with you — but he insisted on seeing you, even if it meant a more casual hangout in his living room with Chinese food and a comedy-drama film from the 2000s playing on the TV.

At some point in the evening, the late hours caught up to him all at once and he even managed to get you to stay with him, wrapped in his arms as his sleepiness found its way to your body as well.

Craning your neck, you peer at Eren’s sleepy face from the corner of your eye. You smile. He’s got an innocent look about him even in his sleep. His lips are parted just enough to take and release soft breaths. You sink back into the couch, wiggling around to find the comfortable position you were previously in.

Eren feels you moving and his arm instantly pulls you closer to his body. His warmth transfers through every layer of clothing, enveloping you in a warm embrace. In his sleep, he mumbles a string of words you can’t quite comprehend under his breath, but the vibrations against your back coax you back into a peaceful slumber.

The next time you wake up, it's already getting dark out. The coffee table has been cleared of its mess, and the body lying behind you is no more. Forced by the absence of his arms around you, you trudge out of the living room to look for him as you rub the sleep from your eyes.

He's in the kitchen, back to you, filling a glass with cold water from the fridge.

Leaning against the threshold, you watch him adoringly, marveling at his toned figure from behind. He chugs his first glass of water down, refilling it as soon as he finishes. As he brings the glass to his lips once more, he turns around, eyebrows rising slightly when he takes in your presence.

“Boo,” you smile, standing straight and making your way over to him.

He abandons the glass of water as soon as you meet him, opting to use his hands to push you closer to him by the small of your back as yours rest on his shoulders.

“Did I wake you?” he asks.

You shake your head.

“Just felt lonely, all of a sudden.”

An amused air blows through his nose.

Your hands find a way to his hair, fingers carding through the strands as he keeps his gaze fixed on your face.

His hair has gotten longer, and the strands around his face now cover his forehead, tickling the skin. It’s not messy, by any means, but it gives him an edgier look. The duality of Eren Jaeger’s appearance is a wonder to you. He’s got a way of tipping the scales between cute and sexy with every little thing he does.

You smile at the few rebellious locks that poke out, still fixed in the angle provided by his nap.

“What?” he asks, mirroring your smile.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you murmur.

“I’ll get a haircut soon, don’t worry,” he replies, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, amused by the way you follow after him once he starts retreating from the contact. He kisses you once more to keep you from pouting.

“I didn’t say anything,” you chuckle. “If you want to grow out your hair, that’s fine. You don’t have to keep it short. I was just pointing it out.”

He shakes his head, humming in denial.

“Nah. This part’s starting to bug me. I just haven’t had time to get it cut,” he explains, brushing back the hair covering his forehead. He proceeds to squeeze your waist on either side. “But what do you prefer?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter with a shrug.

“Gun to your head, which looks better?” he smiles.

His extremist question earns him an eye roll but you answer him nonetheless after a beat.

“I like your short hair,” you finalize earnestly.

He grins, cupping your face with one hand as he places a kiss on your cheek — then on your jaw, and one in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against the sensitive skin.

You nod, a small smile dancing across your lips at his tender affections.

“You look very handsome with a clean undercut. The day I met you I actually thought you were really good-looking.”

He pulls away from his task on your neck to stare at you in disbelief.

“And yet you refused to go out with me. I can’t believe you.”

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.

You laugh. The sound swells him with pride — it lights up the room.

“Looks aren't everything, dummy. You're so shallow.”

It's your turn to feign disappointment while he stands there, amused.

“Right, right,” he nods. “I forgot you fell for me because I'm a strong and dependable man.”

He flexes his muscles, making a whole show out of his pointed remark.

You roll your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your face is hard to deny.

“Isn't that right?” he teases.

You don't humor him with an answer — there's no real need for it.

With his hands settled comfortably on your hips, he guides you backward, until your back is pressed against the counter, before he hoists you up and sets you onto it with ease. You welcome him between your thighs with a smile, breath hitching when he caresses your knee over your jeans and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“My baby,” he coos, pressing an open-mouthed kiss onto your skin.

You giggle at the teasing meaning behind the affectionate name, heart fluttering at the feeling of him smiling against your skin.

The both of you keep your positions for a while — him breathing in your perfume while you stroke his soft hair tenderly.

Being with Eren feels so easy. It's a wonder how comfortable you feel with barely a week tallied for your relationship. Each morning and evening when he drives you to and from work have definitely helped.

After your sobbing confession outside of your apartment, you apologized for making Eren feel as though he was troubling you by being so attentive.

All the accumulated trauma in your heart had ironically made you the perpetrator of making him believe there was no real place for him in your life even after you accepted his liking for you. He didn't ask any followup questions that night, but he understood and vowed to be patient.

You're still trying to be okay with that — his unmoving loyalty. But it's easier to accept when you remind yourself he wouldn't stick around if he didn't want to.

Looking down at the boy in your arms, you smile. He can be so childish at times — teasing you, insisting you hold him, easily shaken by a few late nights. And yet there was something so comforting in his behavior. He's always so happy to see you, making sure to clock in quality time hours — not that he didn't enjoy the daily drives, but it wasn't exactly a date. Not to mention his unwavering need to make sure you're safe. At least his rare stubbornness has good reason.

Reluctantly abandoning the comfort of your neck, he lifts his face to meet your eyes. His gaze bores into yours, engulfing you in warm pools of emerald.

A lazy grin takes over his features.

“I like that,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows twitch in confusion.

“This,” he explains, bringing a hand to your head and mimicking the strokes you've weaved into his hair. “It feels nice.”

An airy chuckle escapes your lips and you make a point to stroke his hair more.

His face hovers over yours. His hands rest on either side of you as he leans into your affections. His eyes flutter closed as he sighs at your touch.

You look up at him mesmerized by his angelic features. It's true you've always thought he's handsome, but this closeness makes you appreciate every detail of his face even more. His long lashes, the faint freckles on his nose, the thick eyebrows that are softening with each feel of your fingers combing through his hair, the perfect plump lips that whisper your name.

It makes your heart pound against your ribs loudly, the sound echoing in your ears as your hands grow sweaty.

That's when you decide to pull him in for a kiss. His eyes flutter open for a split second of surprise before they close again, at peace and happy. Your hands lose themselves in his hair as his wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter by the small of your back.

The contact is painfully slow, with measured pecks in between deeper kisses. He melts into you, lips softly grazing yours, breath fanning across your mouth as he nips at your bottom lip with his teeth to later soothe the area with his tongue. His lips slot warmly between yours, dragging out at a snail's pace before coming back.

The tip of his tongue pokes between your lips, shy but determined to be granted the access you so easily provide. A soft moan bubbles up your throat as his tongue caresses yours with vehemence. It's unusually hot, but the foreign feeling of his tongue in your mouth is greatly appreciated, marked by the way you desperately try to pull him even closer, in hopes that he can swallow you whole.

The pit of your stomach flutters and stirs with the most pleasant tingle when one of his hands travels to the back of your neck and he pushes his hips against yours. Despite the layers keeping you apart, it's easy to tell he's grown hard from the sweet exchange. He's rock solid under his pants, the delicate moans that bounce off your tongue and onto his making him bigger with every passing second.

He knows you can feel it, but you don't seem to mind, your head too dizzy with the collective sensations being fed to your body — his warm tongue, his bulge brushing your most sensitive spot over your jeans, his left hand holding you in place by the back of your neck while the other firmly squeezes your waist as he's consumed by the passionate kiss.

You cling onto him, thighs drawing closer to keep him flush against you. His hips roll against yours, brushing so deliciously against the spot that's growing wet beneath your clothing that it sends a tickle up your insides.

He sucks on your tongue, the act drawing more lustful mewls from the back of your throat.

You're feverish, your face burning when your shirt happens to rise, exposing your midriff to his calloused fingers which were so careful not to touch any new skin before the incident.

There's a string of saliva that connects your mouths when you finally break your fervent makeout. His lips are swollen and glossy with your saliva, as you're sure yours are with his.

“Eren,” you weakly whine in between breaths.

“Hm?” he hums, as he parts from your mouth to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck.

You shudder when he swirls his tongue against your sweet spot before gently kissing it.

You whine his name again, though your voice has a stronger shape to it this time.

He turns to face you, pecking your lips just once before easing his grip on your body.

“I know,” he murmurs. “Slow, I remember.”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

His nose brushes against yours as he tilts his head to press a calmer, cooler kiss onto your lips.

“I want to, by the way,” you admit bashfully, avoiding his blown pupils and opting to look at a blank point on his shirt. “Just… not yet.”

When your gaze flickers to his, he's looking down at you warmly.

“I understand,” he murmurs.

Your eyes flit toward the window, reminding you of how late it's getting.

“I should go, it's already dark out.”

Eren nods, pulling back from the counter until you both notice the tent in his pants. You tear your gaze from the area, searching for something of interest elsewhere.

He blushes, ready to express an apology for his body's reaction to your wanton moans and feverish kisses, but you hop off the counter and trail off to the living room to search for your jacket before he can, leaving him to softly laugh at your meek behavior as he makes his way to the bathroom.

When he comes looking for you in the living room a couple of minutes later, you're seated on the couch, waiting patiently for him.

You smile upon his return, no trace of embarrassment left on your features.

“Do you really have to go?” he asks.

Your expression softens but you nod.

“We have work tomorrow. And I know how you get if you don't get your beauty sleep,” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, but wears a playful smile nonetheless.

“No. I mean,” he takes a deep breath. “You could stay the night… if you want to.”

His voice grows timid with every word as he gauges your reaction to his offer. He doesn't want to be pushy, by any means, but he hopes you'll accept.

He watches you chew on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say.

“Unless, of course, that goes against the whole taking-things-slow agreement,” he awkwardly laughs. “But I just… figured you should know… I wouldn’t object to you spending the night. No funny business. Just… to sleep.”

A breath of relief pushes past his lips when a small smile finally grows over your previously troubled features.

“Maybe not tonight,” you say. “But I’ll think about it.”

His lips curl inwards to hide his smile before he holds his hand out to you so you can head out the door together.

Eren swings your linked hands as you travel down the hall from the elevator. It's a habit he's developed over the past few days after seeing you cry for the first time.

The image lingered with bitterness in his head the entire night. It still pops up every now and then, reminding him he has to do everything in his capability to keep it from happening again.

As you walk to your door, hands comically swinging more aggressively each time with Eren's playful attitude, he marvels at your laughing face, feeling at ease with everything concerning you.

He finally eases up on his swing when you reach your door, but your fingers remain laced with his until you absolutely have to part ways.

“Sorry I was so tired today,” he says, holding your hands up to compare the difference in size. He presses his palm against yours, eyes shimmering at the sight before he grabs your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles gently. “I'll make it up to you next time.”

“I don't mind just hanging out,” you say, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It's fun.”

He smiles as he watches you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket with your free hand. The click of the lock always comes before letting go, but it's fine because he still gets to see you tomorrow morning for the drive to your office.

You turn to him, leaving the keys dangling on the lock as you drape your arms around his neck.

“By the way,” you murmur, pressing yourself further into his chest when his arms wrap around your waist. “You can spend the night at my place, too, if you want.”

His features twitch and his eyes light up with interest at the offer.

“No funny business,” you add, before pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Just to sleep.”

He laughs.

“Of course. What kind of guy do you take me for?”

You smile, affectionately brushing your nose against his with your eyes closed.

“Just thought I'd let you know.”

“I’ll think about it,” he murmurs mockingly, echoing your response from earlier.

You look up at him quizzically.

“Do I sense some competition over whose apartment we stay at first?” you accuse.

“I’ll get on my knees if you want,” he quips without missing a beat, not bothering to be cool about the topic.

You giggle.

“Perfect. I love pathetic men.”

He stifles a laugh, eyes twinkling in amusement as a reflection of yours. Then he turns on a comically serious expression.

“Baby, I’m as pathetic as they come,” he firmly states, which makes you laugh even more.

“You're such a dork,” you giggle.

He hugs you tightly, playfully rocking your connected bodies in the middle of the hallway as he peppers your face with kisses, relishing in your amused squeals.

The giddiness in your expression remains even after you're both standing still and he's no longer attacking you with kisses.

“Thank you for making time for me,” you smile. “I mean, you already do so much with driving me to work and everything. If you’re ever not in the mood, you can—”

He cuts you off with a chaste kiss to your lips.

“It’s my pleasure.”

You bite back a grin and nod.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs before letting go and beginning his journey out with backwards steps.

“Bye, Eren,” you smile.

Before he can turn on his heel, you catch up to him, instantly making him drop his confused expression for a much softer one when you press your lips against his in one last kiss goodbye. When you pull back, he's got a goofy grin on his face as he waits for you to explain yourself.

You smile shyly.

“For the road.”

November 4, 2024

I found out where my angel lives. It's not too bad a place, but I'm sure she'll like the room I'm fixing for her better. I'm working on a way to get some of her favorite things over to my place. Hopefully she won't miss them too much before I can reunite her with them.

I'm so relieved. It was worth keeping an eye on her for the last few days. The only downside to come out of this is that I have to see that jerk's stupid face everywhere. He just can't leave her alone for a damn second.

It pisses me off to see him touch her like it's nothing. That should be ME kissing her and making her laugh. Not him. He shouldn't be allowed to touch her. Still, she looks so happy each time. But I can't be mad at her. I could never be mad at my angel. She'll realize soon enough that I'm the one meant for her. I just have to suck it up in the meantime. It's bad enough that I have to keep my distance for now but do I have to see her smiling at the wrong guy, too? I can't take it.

She's gotten prettier. It seems impossible but it's true. I could look at her for days on end — and I have the past week as proof. Her smile is brighter and she's practically glowing. It only makes the wait even harder but I still have so much to get done for her arrival. I can't wait to see the look on her face when I finally bring her home with me so we can be happy together.

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allthingswhumpyandangsty · 6 months

Note

I read your post about not letting kudos and hits upset us. I try to think this way but I'm curious about something else. I've written many fanfics for my fandom and they're all "flop". I don't mind that honestly. But then some writers have written only one fic about the ship I do and and it gets hundreds of kudos. How do some writers achieve that when I'm doing the same and it doesn't get the same response. What else can I do?

I’m afraid I can’t give you a definite answer about what you should do or why this person’s work is more popular, but what I can give you are some advice and, from my experience, some reasons that might explain why other’s works receive more hits and kudos.

start with why other writers’ works are more popular when it’s the same characters, same ship, same fandom. there are various factors at play that might be it;

maybe the person already has large audience base prior to their posting about the fandom you’re in, I know a few authors who already have these sorts of loyal readers that would read any work the authors posted even if they (the readers) were not in that fandom.

maybe someone, anyone, decided share the link to this person’s work on Tumblr or Twitter (X) or any social media platform, and it kind of became viral, thus it drew in lots and lots of readers. it could take just one person, didn’t necessarily have to be the author themself, to share the link among the fandom as a recommendation, or maybe a screenshot of one sentence from the fic that they liked, what happened next is that the replies were filled with people asking for the link.

tags and summary are important factors when people are looking for a fic to read. so maybe this person’s work is tagged with the content people were looking for? maybe their summary grabbed people’s attention or curiosity?

these are just what I can think of over the top of my head.

as for what you can do to gain more readers, I’ve never seen your work so the advice I can give will be a general one; I believe the trick lies in summary, tags as well as the format of one’s work.

when it comes to AO3 (I assume it’s your platform?), tags and summary are the main things people use to determine whether or not they want to click on the fic.

tag your content properly, what characters or pairings it’s about, as well as what the readers will find upon reading your work (you don’t have to spoil it, only the general tags that will give your readers an idea of what they’re in for).

summaries are just as important. there are no “rules” obviously, and I’m not telling you or any writers what to do. though a little advice that I personally take is that you use this little summary section AO3 gives you to do anything to make sure it stands out and that people will see it and want to click on it. that means leave “author’s note” out of the summary section. folks, AO3 summary is the first glimpse into the fic itself that people will see prior to clicking on it, most of the time, people look at the summary to see the author’s writing style and if what’s written, plotwise, grabs their interest. personally, when I see an author use “summary” as a place to write “author’s note”, chances are, I will scroll past that fic as I am interested in what the fic is about, not what the author has to say about their opinion on said fic or their personal life or anything (there’s an author’s note section for that) and if I can’t get a glimpse of what the plot is about or what the author’s writing style is from the summary section, then I won’t click on it, and will look for other fic that can get me interested instead.

moving on to fic format, again, I am not telling anyone what to do here. this is only a suggestion, an advice I’ve learned and want to share: when you write your fic, make sure to use line and paragraph spacing. if your 10k word long fic is one long block of text with no paragraph break, chances are, people will back away from it entirely. also, if it’s two different characters talking with dialogues, don’t put all of their dialogues in one paragraph. for instance, a paragraph for character A’s dialogue, then another separate paragraph for character B’s dialogue and so on.

and I think that’s it for my advice? however, I’ll say this again that the secret to truly enjoying your role as a fanfic writer is that you only focus on yourself. write whatever you want for yourself. it doesn’t matter if this person’s work is more popular, because fanfics and fandoms aren’t a competition. you are your main audience. just have fun creating the stories you want to create for you.

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an0nymousmessenger · 1 year

Text

For I'll Keep Every Promise

Synopsis: He wakes up. Word Count: 2.4k tags. fluff, angst, happy ending Sequel to 'A Thousand Wishes Unheard' note: I was going to post this later but I think you guys need it. Ao3 Link

Darkness. That was all he could see. He felt nothing– as if he was floating in a neverending void.

He was dead.

He had to be. He remembers the bitter taste of blood coating his mouth– the way he struggled and choked on the very thing that ran through his skin. He recalls the loud ringing in his ear, growing ever louder as his vision faded out.

Well, he supposed he tried his best. Really. He gave it his all.

It just wasn’t enough.

What remained of his heart ached. He supposed he wasn’t able to fulfill his promise to you. He hopes you won’t blame him…he had held on till the very end.

Death wasn’t so bad. Before he went he was able to see his students, laughing and smiling, he even got to hold you close before he had left. Not to mention he even saw his friends again, and he had gotten to say goodbye.

He had no regrets.

Well…he supposes there is still one that lodges itself in the back of his mind.

It was you.

He had never gotten the chance to…

“Satoru,”

He turned his head to look at you, who was savoring your lollipop as you leaned back on the balcony.

Lemon flavored. The very sour kind.

He had a snide suspicion that it was to keep him away from stealing it…

“Satoruu~” you repeated, drawing his attention again.

“Hm?”

You flash him a smile, the kind of smile that lets him know that you are about to either stir up trouble or say something random.

It was the latter.

“What do you want to do when you're older?”

He snorts, “What kind of question is that? Of course– a sorcerer.” He wanted to add ‘what else?’ but decided it was obvious enough. Adding the last part would also ruin his good mood. His path has already been pre-designed and pre-routed for him. He has no other choice.

“No, what I mean is if all this didn’t exist.”

“Aw~ are you saying you would rather not have met me?” He sings out in a fake-pained voice, knowing that it was not what you meant.

You roll your eyes, having been used to his antics for a few years now, “Perhaps,” you say with a playful smile, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be better off.”

“Nah, I doubt it.”

You sigh before turning to face him. You widen your eyes when you notice he is already looking at you, but quickly move on, but Satoru doesn’t let the red creeping up on the tip of your ears go unnoticed. “I’m saying if you didn’t have cursed energy and stuff…like normal people, you know?”

He wanted to laugh and point out that it sounded like you were indicating that people like you and him were the odd ones, but he decided to let it slide.

“I dunno, maybe I’ll start a singing career, something like that.”

“Pfft, so what? That you’ll get even more admirers and fans?”

“Exactly! What? Don’t you agree? My face is pleasant to look at.”

Scoffing, you say, “One of these days I’ll make sure to crush that ego of yours.”

He rolls his eyes before looking back out at the school grounds, watching the sun slowly set behind the forest of trees. Although he had said the first thing that came from the top of his mind, he supposed singing wouldn’t be that far reached.

After all, he excelled at everything.

"How about you?" he asks. "Do you have something in mind already?"

Observing the setting sun, you reply, "Mhm, yeah. Something like that."

"Really?" He sounds surprised, not realizing how seriously you were considering it. "What is it?"

Hesitating, you eventually respond, "It's... nothing."

His interest is immediately piqued.

"Come on! What's your idea? Share it with me!" He playfully pesters you with a grin.

"No!"

"You can't tease me like that! I told you mine, didn't I?" He whines a bit more before eventually coaxing it out of you.

It was when he saw you sigh, watching as the tension left your shoulders that he knew he won.

“Fine, I’ll tell you then. But you can’t tell anyone else– okay?”

He makes a gesture of zipping his mouth and throwing the zipper away, his curiosity increasing. It always does when it comes to you.

“I want to be…” you wait a bit, as if for dramatic effect, “...an author.”

You turn to look at him after a moment’s silence before breaking out in laughter.

“Haha- what’s up with your face? Surprised?”

Indeed he was a bit surprised. An author? He had no clue. When it comes to you it seemed as if he's only ever scratched the surface. It made him want to know more, want to ask more.

He never does.

"An author," he echoes thoughtfully.

"Yeah."

He wanted to ask why, but you had already started talking.

“An author. I guess it’s because I want to write stories, I grew up reading them you know? Made me feel safe.”

A hint of melancholy graces your smile as your thoughts drift elsewhere; it's a different kind of smile than the one before–a sadder smile.

"Who knows? I'm sure being a sorcerer has provided ample material for incredible stories. I'll be entirely unique. Maybe I'll even include tales about overcoming curses and how people like us save the day."

"Why not add in a ridiculously handsome guy who defeats all the curses with seamless ease too? Make sure 'remarkably attractive' is emphasized."

Laughing, you playfully smack his arm. "Okay, Satoru. I'll consider it."

He couldn’t help but break out into an amused smile. What an odd dream, he thought. Though he supposed he wasn’t against it.

Satoru Gojo excelled at everything, yet nothing he achieved seemed to measure up to you.

He felt his mind start to drift and fade away, threatening to join the other souls in their lost journey home. Wait…he called out. He didn’t want to go just yet. He wanted more time, more time to replay his memories, to live in them just for a second longer.

“Satoru,”

He could hear your voice, calling him in that familiar and recognizable way that was only special to you.

“Satoru.”

He wished he could’ve told you how much he loved hearing you say his name, it rolls off your tongue so nicely. He was never one to care about names, it never mattered to someone like him.

All he needed was Gojo – a name denoting his status, lineage, and power. His first name barely held any weight compared to his clan's. No one needed to know who Satoru was, no one ever did…so he couldn’t have cared less for his name- and yet you somehow made him love his name– only when you say it does it sound special– like it’s his name like he is someone.

Someone other than the honored one. Someone other than the strongest.

“Satoru!”

There were a lot of things he never got to tell you, another thing to add to his regrets. If only he had been brave enough…if only he had picked up his courage and told you everything.

“Satoru- please!”

He paused. Ah- what is that feeling? He could feel something wet fall onto his face. Was it raining? How could that be? How could he feel if he was dead?

And yet that warmth around his face only made him more confused. He could feel as if someone was holding them, cupping his face carefully as if he could break.

"Please wake up… Satoru, I beg you…"

His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the sudden brightness.

The first thing he saw when his vision came back into focus was your face. Your crying face looking down at him with your hands cupping his face.

Then he looked around, realizing that the battlefield on which he had been sliced in half was gone. He was in a room, a hospital room.

He looked down and saw the rest of his body, no longer split into two. Had Shoko done this?

“Satoru!”

He returned his gaze to you. You were smiling, smiling, and crying.

Questions, so many questions flooded through him at that moment, but he decided that he could ask those later. Right now was more important, right now felt like it was all happening inside a dream.

“Hey…crybaby, seems like you you missed me?” He teased with a small grin.

You gave him a look through your tear-soaked face as if you couldn’t even believe what he was saying.

“Y-You! You bastard! You annoying– infuriating- stupid dumbass!”

“Aw, come on…” he drags, “You don’t mean those…do you hm?” Although the tone in his voice is light– playful even as if he hadn’t just returned from death, as if all he wanted right now was to live this moment to the fullest, he was dearly wishing this– whatever this was– to last a little longer.

He slowly brings his trembling arm to hold onto yours, he wanted to hold on to you tight, as if everything he was seeing was about to break, to fall apart for him to realize it was all a dream.

He waited for you to disappear, to return to the part of his imagination that was playing tricks on him.

Instead, you move sideways to hug him, crying onto his shoulders.

"No...no, I don't," you managed through choked sobs.

He hummed softly, "I guess I kept my promise after all, huh?"

You nod into his shoulder, still holding him tightly.

You and him fall into a comfortable silence, he lets you cry on his shoulders just as how you let him hold onto you.

Several minutes passed before you pulled away, sniffling and attempting to compose yourself while wiping away tears with your sleeve.

Satoru wanted to reach out and wipe them for you, but his newly healed injuries did not allow him to, moving his hand had already been hard.

It went on like that for a while; you sniffling and crying as Satoru stared at you quietly, taking everything about you in as if this was the last time he was going to see you, just the same way he did on that night underneath the torii gate, using his eyes to try to imprint every detail, everything, every aspect of you into his memory.

That night felt like a lifetime away.

He was the first to break the silence, “Where are the others?”

By now you had calmed down, and were able to answer in a coherent way, “Recovering…everyone is- they’re fine.”

Fine. Not good, but fine.

He’ll take it for now.

“We managed to win and…” you give him a look, “you know…the students declared their victory for you,” You say with a smile.

His students. They managed to do it, just as he thought they could. He sighed contently.

You then spend the next half hour going over exactly what had happened after he had passed out, how Kashimo had come out right after him, and how eventually the rest of the students joined in.

In the end, they had managed to pull through, but it wasn’t over. Sukuna had been dealt with, Megumi’s condition was unknown, and Kenjaku was nowhere to be found.

Shoko had indeed been the one to heal him. Immediately after the battle they were able to recover his body and managed to heal him back together just in time.

“We- we almost- I didn’t know if we made it in time or not…” You say, choking up again. He could see the tears you were desperately trying to hold back, to look brave in front of him, trying to break through.

“Hey, I’m right here, aren’t I?” He beckons you to come closer.

He eventually holds you in his arms, drawing slow circles on your back, as he knows it calms you, “Shhh, I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere else.”

You mutter, “Better not,” which causes him to laugh.

He wanted to let this moment drag on forever, just you in his arms, just you and him.

“This…this is real– right?” He says quietly, and in such a small voice he doubted you had heard him.

You raise your head to look at him, the soft kind of smile he’s always known playing on your face, “Yes, Satoru. This is real, as real as it can be.”

He can feel himself start to tear up, because if he had to be honest- he was scared too, he was terrified, but he had no choice. He had to play his role, his role as the strongest.

But now he could just be Satoru, just him holding onto you, keeping you close.

“Then I’m glad.”

Bonus:

“Gojo Sensei!” Yuji, the always energetic kid exclaimed as he ran into the room, followed by You, Maki, Yuta, Nobara, Panda, Inanumaki, Shoko, and everyone else.

They all had recovered for the most part and seemed to be relatively okay. They all wore relieved expressions as they entered the room to see that their Sensei was alright.

Yuji was the first to arrive at his Sensei’s bedside.

“Hey, kid!” Gojo Sensei waved. He had recovered enough to prop himself up and do basic movements, which to Shoko had been a miracle itself.

Yuji then began launching himself into the things that had happened while Gojo had been recovering, and Gojo returned the energy. Everyone got their turn, talking until visiting times were over and they had to be ushered out.

You were the last to leave. Just before you turned the doorknob Satoru called after you, “Hey- wait.”

You turn around, waiting for what he wants to say.

“When- uh when this is all over and when you have some free time, let me take you out, yeah?”

You barely ever heard Satoru Gojo stumble over his words, and when he did you know it was because he was nervous, and everyone knows Satoru Gojo is never nervous, yet that always seemed to be the exception when it comes to you.

You found it cute, the way he would try to seem aloof as the back of his neck became a beautiful shade of bright red.

“Yeah, but let’s save that for when you recover.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be up and ready by next week,” he says as if it were a fact, his blue eyes seemed to shine even brighter.

You sigh, even after coming back on the brink of death he still acts like a child, but you smile nonetheless, “Next week it is then.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen #fluff

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slut4thebroken · 1 year

Text

sex pollen

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jason Todd × vigilante!reader

Summary | You tried to help Jason when something went wrong on patrol, but it didn’t go the way you thought it would.

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, unprotected sex, breeding, non consensual sex technically, cause he doesn’t know she likes it, multiple orgasms, ruined orgasms, public sex, rough sex, sex pollen, I want him to rail me like this tbh, angst, fluff.

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Finally posting the fic from this post hehe. If anyone mentions how the quality gets worse after the smut ends, I’ll cry. That’s a threat. (Also imagine that gif is him pinning you against a wall lmao)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Jason?” You gasped as he used his body to press you against the dirty alley wall. Even through the suit his bulge was obvious. His helmet had been previously discarded and you shivered at the feeling of his breath against your lips.

“Jason, what the hell are you doing?” You all but whimpered, making him growl and place a hand on your neck.

“Stop fucking saying my name like that.” He hissed, pushing his hips harder into yours. Your breath hitched at the wild look in his eyes, the color almost completely gone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on your neck. The groan he released sounded pained and you wished you knew what was happening so you could help him. Suddenly ripping himself away from you, his hands went to his hair, pulling on the ends as he let out another pained moan.

“Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me how to help.” You said softly, pushing yourself off the wall to grab his hands and remove them from his hair. He flinched away from your grip and took a step back.

“Go.” He muttered, not looking at you.

“What?”

“Go! I can’t- You…” His chest heaved as he tugged on his hair again. “You have to leave.” He gritted.

“I’m not leaving you like this.”

“I can’t control it! Please-” He cried.

“Control what?” You took another step toward him and placed your hand on his cheek. His eyes snapped open and he roughly grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand off of his face. You stared at him in shock, not used to this behavior, and he squeezed his eyes shut as his grip tightened around your wrist, making you wince. When he opened them again, they were significantly darker.

All of a sudden, he was doing a move he’s done to you a couple times during training, and you were flat on the floor in seconds. He turned you onto your stomach, then straddled your thighs, not being able to control the way his hips bucked forward, pushing his crotch against your ass.

“Jason, what-“ As you tried to push yourself up, a strong hand pressed between your shoulder blades, forcing you back down with a grunt. He was rutting against your ass intentionally now, growling at the friction and pushing down on your back harder to make sure you couldn’t wriggle free. You could feel arousal pooling in your stomach from his behavior, not used to this side of him yet.

You’ve been dating for a while now and while you are sexually active, so far you both have kept it pretty vanilla. You were scared he’d think you were disgusting or weird so you never talked about it. You only mentioned the more tame things like light bondage or choking, choosing to limit the hard kinks to your fantasies for when you’re alone.

He quickly grew impatient and removed his hand as he shuffled down your legs just enough to have access to your ass. He took the skin tight fabric of your suit in both hands and ripped it apart, opening the entire crotch area. You let out a choked gasp that turned into a moan when he did the same thing with your underwear, ripping them in half so he had complete access.

“Jason, what are you-“ A hand was on the back of your neck now, squeezing the sides and forcing your cheek into the dirty pavement. But you understood that it was a warning, so you stayed quiet, listening to fabric rustling behind you until you felt the blunt head of his cock against your folds. He didn’t bother teasing you like he normally would before breaching your hole with a low groan. You cried out, scrambling for purchase on the floor beneath you, struggling to adjust to his size without the usual amount of prep, despite how wet you were. But he paid no mind to it as he started rutting against you in shallow thrusts.

“Fuck- I’m sorry,” He said through a moan. “I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it- I just need this- need you.” He whined, desperately bucking his hips into you as he held you down.

You tried to relax your body and not tense up around him, but the stretch burned almost painfully and you couldn’t help it. You just had to wait until you became aroused enough to loosen up a little. It didn’t seem like that would take long though- he’s always managed to hit the perfect spot inside you with little effort. Your clit throbbed desperately for stimulation but you couldn’t fit a hand between your body and the ground with him pinning you down.

His thrusts became more frenzied and erratic as he neared his orgasm, far sooner than normal, and part of you didn’t want it to be over yet but another part was glad your burning hole would get relief from the stretch soon.

His thrusts slowed and he fucked you uncomfortably deep, pushing up against your cervix as hot come filled you up. You let out a low whine, listening to his moans and whimpers.

“Jay?” You asked quietly, when he didn’t move or speak for a moment. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and he took a deep breath before dragging out and tentatively pushing back in. He cursed under his breath and picked up the pace, resuming the speed of his thrusts. You let out a choked sound in surprise and he moaned quietly, speeding up even more.

“Fuck- I know. I’m sorry.” He replied to your strained whimpers. “It's not enough… It- it still hurts, baby, I’m sorry. Just a little more.” He whined.

As he grew even needier, he started a brutal pace, slamming his hips against your ass with each thrust. His come made an obscene squelching sound as his cock forced it out of you, some falling down to your clit and some spattering onto the ground between your legs.

You could feel yourself nearing an orgasm and you tried to force a hand under your body, but let out a whimper when you were unsuccessful.

“Jay,” You sobbed, making him let out a choked moan.

“Oh fuck- fuck your cunt is squeezing me so tight. You close, baby?” He moaned breathlessly and you nodded.

“Jay, please.” You cried out. Despite his acknowledgment of your current state, he made no move to do anything else to get you there. He just moaned in response and fucked you harder, slamming into you almost painfully as he chased his second orgasm. His thrusts barely slowed as he came again, painting your fluttering walls with his seed. When he picked up the pace again, you let out a long needy whine, cunt aching for release.

He seemed to grow only a little fatigued as he released your neck and completely laid over you, rutting into you desperately and moaning against your ear.

“God- you feel so fucking good.” He moaned, rolling his hips and grinding against you. “Fuck.” He choked out, leaning up just enough to put you on your elbows so he could pull the zipper of your suit down to your stomach, freeing your breasts. He squeezed them roughly, making your breath hitch, but it was nothing compared to the treatment your nipples received. Desperate fingers worked them over- twisting and pinching them painfully, making sure to use his nails. When you cried out in pain, walls spasming around his length, he came again, lazily rutting into you to get the most out of his orgasm.

“One more,” He gasped out. “Just need one more, baby, I promise.” He huffed, breath fanning your neck, making you shiver. He released your breasts then, more gently this time, pushed you down by your back, using it as leverage to fuck you faster and harder. The ground was rough against your sensitive nipples, making you hiss in pain but still clench around him.

You were dangling over the edge with how close you were- your walls pulsing around him and your clit throbbing, in desperate need of attention. But he gave you no relief as he held you down- even your skin tight suit couldn’t give you any friction because of how far he ripped it. Where you could usually feel his balls slapping against you, you just felt air and come. You don’t know what happened to make him like this but his balls being this tight was maybe the only negative.

The sound of his come being forced out was more obscene than before, and your cheeks burned from the humiliation, bringing you even closer to relief.

“Oh- Jay, I’m-” You gasped out, feeling so fucking close to your orgasm. When he slammed into you with a loud moan, you fell over the edge, body twitching and walls spasming, but you let out an anguished cry when he didn’t continue the rough thrusts. He stopped and was only occasionally bucking into you as he came, making you try to move your hips under him to get more friction, but he was holding you completely still as his come filled you up for the fourth time. You let out a choked sob, your ruined orgasm bringing tears to your eyes, but he paid no mind to it as he relished in his own pleasure.

“Fuck.” He groaned, drawing the word out. “So fucking tight.” He started panting as he came down from his orgasm, your quiet sobs falling on deaf ears. When his cock finally stopped twitching inside you, he dragged it out, hissing at the sensitivity.

Placing his hands on your ass, he spread your cheeks to get a closer look at the mess he made- your torn suit, your abused hole desperately fluttering around nothing, his come covering the floor between your legs and your cunt as it still flowed out of you.

“Fuck- baby, let me see your tits.” He groaned and you turned your sore body over, cringing at the feeling of laying in his come. He settled on the floor next to your stomach, gaze never leaving your exposed chest. When he lightly brushed his fingers over your red nipples, you hissed in pain. Looking down, you were startled by the sight- your breasts were covered in tiny scratches and crescent indents, but your nipples were completely bright red.

“Aren’t you a fuckin sight.” He groaned under his breath. When his gaze moved up to your face though, he faltered. He eyed your tear stained cheeks that were red from the rough pavement and his face fell as he recoiled away from you. He quickly tucked himself back in his pants, not able to look at you and you leaned up on your elbows a little, staring at him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly. Did he figure out that you liked it? “Jay?”

“N-nothing, I’m sorry. I- I should…” He stammered out, keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. You leaned up fully and zipped up your suit, wincing as the fabric pressed tight against your sore nipples. “I’ll take you home.” He muttered, standing up to retrieve his helmet. You stood on shaky legs, trying not to show any physical indication that the feeling of his come trickling out of you was turning you on. You limped over to his bike, now fully feeling how sore you were from his rough treatment, but stopped as you stared at the seat. You don’t want to get it all messy… but what else are you supposed to do? He seemed to pick up on your internal debate and he took off his jacket, telling you to wrap it around your hips. You hesitated, but did it anyway, mentally reminding yourself to wash it as soon as you can.

He stiffened as you wrapped your arms around his torso, making your stomach drop. Does he think I’m disgusting now? You thought, trying not to cry. The realization was enough to distract you from the vibrating seat as the engine roared to life before he drove off, speeding to your apartment. When he arrived, he didn’t even turn off the engine, just stopped and waited. So you climbed off of the bike on shaky legs and waited for him to say something.

“I- I’m sorry. I’ll call you.” You wished you could see his face. Before you had a chance to respond, he was speeding off, making your stomach drop. You tried not to cry as you limped upstairs into your place, grimacing at the feeling of his come dripping down your thighs inside your suit.

Maybe it was just a misunderstanding? No… His attitude only changed after he saw your face, desperate for a proper orgasm. It couldn’t have been anything else.

A few days later you were still waiting for his call. You didn’t go on patrol for multiple reasons. The main one being that you couldn’t get rid of the nausea in your stomach from what happened. But also because he usually picks you up to go with him, and he hasn’t done that yet so he obviously doesn’t want to see you. You sat by your phone for three straight days, waiting for his name to pop up on your screen, and with every day that went by, you lost just a little more hope that he would call— that he wasn’t completely disgusted by you and wanting to break up.

Eventually you decided you’d had enough, so you called him. It only rang twice before you were sent to voicemail, making bile rise up your throat. Another two days later you decided to go to his house. If he’s ending things, you at least want to fucking know.

“Let me get this straight… She found you after Ivy dosed you, you couldn’t control yourself, fucked her, then acted like a complete ass, took her home, and haven’t talked to her since?” Roy asked and Jason nodded hesitantly. “How fucking stupid are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Fucking listen to yourself, Jason. You fucked her, then barely said two words to her as you dropped her off—not even attempting any kind of after care after something so intense— then didn’t even send her a text. You’re fucking psychotic.” His face fell as Roy explained it to him.

“Oh… Oh.” Jason said through a breath, staring at the wall behind him with wide eyes. “Dude, I fucked up-”

“No shit, asshole.”

“Oh my god what did I do?” He muttered, frozen.

You paced outside his door, trying to psych yourself up to knock. “You can do this.” You muttered, shaking your head to try and clear any doubts. “It’s just Jason. You’ve taken on way worse than him- this is a piece of cake.” Despite your sure tone, your stomach was twisting with anxiety. “Okay just do it. Just do it.” You said, raising your first but immediately lowering it. You raised it again and waited, taking a deep breath as you moved your hand toward the wood. Before you could knock, it was being opened and you stared in shock when you were met with Roy.

“Uh…” You glanced between his face and your fist, then quickly lowered it.

“Sorry… I was on my way out. He’s in there though.” He said, using his thumb to point over his shoulder.

“Okay- okay. Cool.” He left the door open and slowly walked past you but you were frozen, staring inside.

“You good?” He asked, raising his brows.

“Me?” You scoffed, giving an unconvincing smile. “Totally. I’m so good- perfect actually.”

“Okay… Are you gonna go in then?” He looked between you and the open door.

“Yep. I- I’m going…” You took a single, tentative step toward the door, then froze again.

“Stop being a pussy and go curse him out already.” He said, making you turn to him with wide eyes. “Go.”

“I am. Give me a fucking second.” You hissed.

“Roy? Why didn’t you close the-” Jason was on the other side of the doorway now, staring at you in shock. Neither of you noticed as Roy left. “…Do you want to come in?” He asked and you nodded, hesitantly stepping inside.

“You didn’t call.” You said, trying to keep all of the emotion out of your voice. You crossed your arms as he closed the door and turned to you, shifting his weight between his feet.

“I’m sorry, I was… busy?” You stared at eyes that wouldn’t meet your own, quickly growing angry from his response.

“Fuck you, Todd.” You scoffed walking toward the door, but he lightly grabbed your arm to stop you.

“I’m sorry… Are you okay?” When he let go of your arm, you turned to face him.

“If you want to break up just say that.” You muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. You looked away from him as you waited for his response.

“What? I don’t- I don’t want to break up. Do you want to break up?” He asked, making you look at him again, this time with a glare.

“I’m not the one who promised to call and then didn’t. I’m not the one who- who left after… that.” He stayed silent so you sighed, then continued. “Look, if you think I’m weird now or don’t want anything to do with me then fine. But you could at least fucking tell me.” You snapped, feeling your eyes start to burn with unwanted tears.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Jason, I'm not in the mood for whatever you’re trying to do.” You sighed.

“No- what the fuck are you talking about? Why the hell would I think that?” You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell you he was kidding and that you’re right, but he stayed silent.

“Because I- I… liked it- when that probably shouldn’t have been something I was meant to enjoy.” You muttered, gaze moving to your feet.

“No you didn’t.” He said simply, making you look back up at him with furrowed brows.

“Jason, what-“

“You were crying and I hurt you. I- I… raped you... I figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.” He said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his gaze.

Oh. Okay that makes a little more sense.

“That’s why you got all cold and left? Cause you thought you did that?” You asked softly, comfortingly.

“I don’t think I did that,” You cut him off before he could say the rest.

“Jason, I get that you were a little out of it and frankly I’m still not even completely sure I understand what happened, but did you seriously not notice that I liked it? I literally came from just that and no other stimulation.” You tried not to let yourself get embarrassed by the confession.

“But- you were crying…” He stared at you with furrowed brows, trying to find the hidden truth behind your words.

“Because when I came, so did you and you pretty much stopped moving so it was a ruined orgasm. I wasn’t crying before that.” He was silent for a moment and you tried not to squirm as you anxiously awaited his response.

“Oh.” He said under his breath, bringing a hand up to anxiously rub the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for ruining it.” He said sheepishly.

“It was still hot.” You shrugged and his eyes widened just the slightest amount. “All of it was really…” You muttered, cheeks heating up.

“All of it?” You nodded. “All of it?”

“Oh my god- Yes, Jason. All of it.” You said, getting even more embarrassed.

“But you were on the ground in an alley…” The way he said it made it sound like a question.

“Yeah and I took a very thorough shower after. Especially because of how much you came, it was literally everywhere.” This time, he was the one to blush at your crude words. “You wanna tell me what that was about now?”

“Ivy.” He shrugged, but there was hesitation in his voice.

“You confronted Ivy alone?” Just by his expression, it was obvious that he knew he was in trouble.

“I was just looking into something and she ambushed me. I didn’t think I’d actually see her.” He defended. “I would’ve brought you if I thought something was gonna go down.” The confirmation that he wouldn’t voluntarily be that stupid eased your nerves a bit. He suddenly took a step forward and lightly cupped your cheek as his gaze trailed all over your face.

“I’m sorry I left you alone, that was wrong. I wasn't thinking straight and I know that’s not an excuse but,” You cut him off with a kiss, pressing your body to his and bringing your arms up to wrap over his shoulders as you stood on your toes to reach his height. When you pulled back, both of you were panting quietly, eyes still closed and foreheads pressed together.

“You don’t have to apologize, but I forgive you.” You whispered through a breath.

“Good.” He pulled back a little, so you opened your eyes, finding a mischievous expression on his face. “If that’s done, I think we need to have a lengthy conversation about all of the kinks you’ve been hiding.” He teased, making your face heat up. “Starting with whatever it was that made you come from penetration alone because I will be doing a lot more of that from now on.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered, leaning forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck with a small smile.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood x reader #smut #angst #fluff

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sundrop-writes · 4 months

Text

When Doves Cry

Jason Todd x Gar Logan

How can you just leave me standing - alone in a world that’s so cold? So cold. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like: When Doves Cry.

This fic is dedicated to a husband who has never given up on me.

Love is infinite, patient, and always welcomes you home.

Summary:

At Dick's insistence, Jason comes back to Wayne Manor to help the Titans end Crane's deadly plan. Jason doesn't want redemption or forgiveness - he's done believing that he's worthy of those. Once Crane is back at Arkham where he belongs, Jason plans to disappear, never to be heard from again.

But Gar - someone who never stopped loving Jason and never stopped believing in his goodness - has other plans.

Jason Todd x Gar Logan. Friends to Lovers/Lovers Reunited. Smut and Emotional Angst. Set during Season 3, Episode 13.

Word Count: 11,100

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is a character x character fic - no reader character here; this is M/M; emotional angst - Jason's self deprecating inner monologue; Jason being emotionally constipated; mentions of Jason's past trauma - including being kidnapped by Deathstroke, and his canon suicide attempt; canon level violence (mentions of guns/gun violence, mentions of killing/mentions of Jason killing people); mentions of Jason's death and resurrection; mentions of Gar mourning Jason's death; mentions of Gar's canon trauma - being forced to murder people while under Cadmus' mind control, having brain surgery performed on him to achieve that mind control; implications of Dick/Hank/Dawn being in a poly relationship because I literally cannot help myself; mentions of Jason being injured from the confrontation that goes down at Wayne Manor in 3x13 (which is canon) - the injuries are vaguely described as 'bumps and bruises'; mentions of Jason's substance abuse - including the Anti-Fear Gas (which yes, even though it's fictional, is still substance abuse), alcohol, and implications toward other unnamed drugs; there is mentions of Jason/Rose - but in this version of things, their interactions were one single kiss and Jason never had any true feelings for her; because of his attraction to Rose - Jason is very much bisexual in this, and though it's not mentioned that Gar has been with a woman (or anyone aside from Jason lmao) - I always headcanon him as bi and write him as bi just so you know; mentions of Gar and Jason having a previous sexual relationship during their time living together at Titans Tower (but that relationship was purely sexual and not romantic); implications that The Pit changed Jason's body somewhat, including making his dick bigger; smut - M/M smut; biting/marking kink (from Gar toward Jason) - at one point, Gar bites down hard enough to draw blood; wet ?? humping/grinding; mentions of Jason and Gar masturbating; passing mention of sex toys (a dildo); anal sex with lots of (real!!!) lube; unprotected sex - they don't use a condom (but there is no mention of STDs and technically they are monogamous even if they didn't discuss it, but irl you should always use one!! don't be like them); Jason bottoming while Gar tops; scent kink - Gar and Jason both really like the way that the other person smells; Jason is a power bottom at first and then becomes more submissive; Gar is very possessive/animalistic during sex; some dirty talk; emotional/passionate sex; creampie kink - Gar cums inside of Jason and they both really like it; a warning for literally licking wounds - Gar licks a cut on Jason's forehead that he has from the fight (this IS NOT blood kink - it's about him caring for Jason because his animal instincts are telling him licking the wound will make it better/soothe it) (btw I am not shaming those with a blood kink, I have written blood kink before and I love it - I just wanted to clarify the tone of the moment); this fic does have a happy ending if that makes you more motivated to read it. I believe that is actually, finally it.

A/N: In case it's not already clearly labelled - there is no reader character in this fic! It is very different from what I usually write, but I felt very inspired and the request that @nctzenkane gave me was just too good not to write. Jason and Gar have so much chemistry in the show, they are such an obvious ship, and they never even got to say goodbye to each other. (The writers make it so convenient that Gar is just not in the room during Jason's pivotal moments - sigh.) Anyway - I love JayGar as a ship and I feel like this fic sums up everything I love about them, as well as giving them the ending they should have gotten. They should have ended up together and Jason should have gotten forgiveness from the Titans family. I hope you guys enjoy this fic even though it's not like my typical stuff, and if you sit this one out - please know that this one did wonders for my creative flow as a writer, and I will be back with more amazing things later. Also, I know that this fic is gonna make my Top Ten Favourite Fics of the year when I make that list for 2024. I was not at all expecting to write this fic but I absolutely love it so much omg. Also - even though I started my taglist a little while ago, I decided not to use the taglist for this particular fic because it's so different from my usual stuff. But the taglist will be used for all upcoming fics.

...

“I have to believe that this dude we fought alongside - my friend - he’s not all bad.”

Gar purposefully put emphasis on those two words, trying his hardest to remind Dick of what Jason was to them. At least, what he should be. A friend. Even if Dick wanted to deny it, Jason had been a Titan once. He had been part of their family. Even if Gar was the only one who still remembered that; even if he was the only one who still remembered Jason’s good side. Even if Gar was the only one who had ever truly loved him - the others needed to remember what being a part of that family meant, and what their obligations were to Jason because of it.

No matter what Dick claimed, Jason hadn’t turned into some evil villain overnight. He had his own reasons for what he was doing, and that meant he could be reasoned with. (Gar knew that it was difficult to reason with Jason - but he knew it could be done.)

Dick’s silence was deafening. Maybe he didn’t want to tell his tender-hearted friend what he really thought of Jason now; those tiny streaks of things that he had been secretly thinking for a long time. Or perhaps - Gar was really getting through to him.

Jason needed to come home. Despite what everyone else believed: he could be saved.

…

All of it was Dick’s idea. Gar still wasn’t even entirely clear on half of it, but the bulk of it involved using his newly acquired - still very undeveloped - ability of turning into a bat so that he could fly up to Jason’s unlocked bedroom window and breach the house’s security system undetected.

No matter how much Gar stressed the fact that he can’t fly, Dick kept telling that it would be okay - that he just had to believe in himself, blah blah. The typical leader speech jargon that he used to convince people to do dangerous things. Gar felt like he shouldn’t have been so easily convinced, but he knew that a lot was on the line - he knew that Crane needed to be stopped. So he put aside sense and transformed, and flew off toward the window even though he barely knew how to control himself in this state.

He was so damn dizzy when he landed. He could taste vomit swelling up inside his mouth and he forcefully pushed it back down. The world was spinning around him in an utterly cruel way and he could barely comprehend anything - he was naked and he needed clothes, so grabbing Jason’s shirt off the floor was nothing but pure instinct. The smell of Jason’s stupid strong cologne - so entrenched in the bedroom’s walls, mixed with the natural musk of sweat in the bedsheets - it should have made Gar even more dizzy and nauseous, but instead, it grounded him. It made him feel safe.

Dig, if you will, the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss. The sweat of your body covers me. Can you, my darling - can you picture this?

It was one of the only things that gave him a true, firm center while the world was spinning so damn hard, still undulating under his hands and knees while he dug his fingers into the expensive carpet, gritting his teeth with how much he absolutely hated the sensation.

Gar and Jason have always been the same size.

It was something they found out days into living together at Titans Tower, when Jason got out of bed and put on one of Gar’s favorite hoodies without a word. He never apologized for getting milk chocolate on it and letting it stain. From that point on, their wardrobe easily blended into one. Jason wore ‘nerd shirts’ with logos that he had no clue about the meaning behind, and Gar found himself wearing more black and more band tees with logos for bands that he couldn’t stand the loud, angry music of.

After Dick had confessed everything that had happened with Jericho, Jason pulled away on the screeching tires of his motorcycle, and ended up taking some of Gar’s clothes with him. This left Gar with the pain of accidentally pulling something out of his drawer that still smelled like Jason - sleeping in sheets that definitely still reeked of that strong cologne. In fact, Gar had been wearing one of Jason’s black hoodies on the night that Cadmus had stormed the Tower - on the night his life had forever changed.

In the present, when Gar left Jason’s room dressed head to toe in Jason’s clothes, it felt natural. It felt natural to be surrounded by that scent. It gave a certain kind of unconscious comfort to his overwhelmed instincts during such a chaotic time. It wasn’t even something he had put that much thought into. Instead, he was far more focused on using the remote Dick had instructed him to grab in order to disarm the alarm system - a task he was incredibly worried about getting right.

With Dick in his ear giving him instructions to defuse the alarm, even with the terrible itch of anxiety creeping down his neck - he felt a certain sense of safety from being wrapped in Jason’s clothes. Even when the sound of gunfire came from down the hall - something that nearly paralyzed him with fear, part of him still foolishly felt bulletproof because of that familiar shirt on his back.

When he rounded the corner, the first thing that truly made him freeze up during all of this was actually seeing Jason for the first time in so long.

It was a true shock to his system.

After all the talk of Jason - a death that he barely had time to mourn, so heavy in his heart and barely processed by his mind. After finding out that the person behind Red Hood’s mask had once been his best friend, somehow stolen from the morgue and woken up from what should have been a permanent sleep due to the treacherous waters of the Lazarus Pit. After spending all that time talking Dick’s ear off, trying to convince him to let Jason come home, where he truly belonged; after feeling so damn fruitless in doing so. After tracking down Molly, trying to stand united with one of Jason’s last true friends in an effort not to see him hurt.

After all of that, everything Gar had been through over the past few weeks, actually seeing Jason in front of him - it was like having ice water poured down his back.

He froze up standing there, and he knew that the expression on his face must have been that of dumbstruck delirium.

He hadn’t expected their reunion to be anything like this.

When Jason had first stormed out of Titans Tower, Gar had imagined that he would come back. Even after he had screamed at the top of his lungs, telling Dick to fuck off, and followed that up by screaming at Rose not to touch him when she had tried to grab his arm in some poor attempt at ‘comfort’, daring anybody else not to follow him - Gar had thought that it would be only a matter of hours before Jason came back.

At the time, he had texted Jason after everyone else scrambled out like cockroaches fleeing from the light, and he had told Jason that it was safe to come back because they would be alone together (save for Conner’s unconscious body). He had expected that statement alone would cause Jason to eagerly come running back.

He thought that it would be a predictable reunion.

Jason would come back puffy-eyed and stinking of booze, stumbling, furiously denying that he had even been upset, saying that he would never let Dick Grayson get under his skin. Slurring his words while also denying that he had been drinking and driving his bike - because he didn’t want Gar to ‘narc’ on him about it.

Gar would put him in the shower and douse him in cold water to sober him up while trying not to scold him about the potential of crashing the stupid speeding death machine due to being drunk. They would go to bed together and Jason would fall asleep holding onto him for dear life. And he would still make Jason the best hangover breakfast that vegan soy substitutes can offer (and Jason would complain about Gar not cooking with ‘real’ bacon, but he would still clean his plate). And Jason would sneak a kiss over the sudsy dish water that would turn into soapy grab-ass, and he would have wanted to fuck Gar across the kitchen counter just because nobody else was around to complain about it.

(Maybe that last part was just a fantasy Gar cooked up with his hand on his cock in his bed at the Tower when he was missing Jason a bit too much. But still, it felt like something Jason would do.)

When the days passed and Jason still hadn’t responded to him - still hadn’t come home, Gar tried to deny that he missed the mouthy asshole. He tried to weed those shirts out of his laundry so that he could stop being constantly reminded of Jason. He tried to keep his crying limited to the shower, or muffled into his pillow at night.

And then, he didn’t have to worry as much about that stuff, because he got distracted and busy when Conner woke up. Introducing the clone to the world, teaching him to be a Titan.

When he got his brain scrambled, between the taste of blood in his mouth and the distant sound of a done drill - memories of Jason flickered in front of him, and when he was present enough in reality, he knew that Jason running far away was a good thing. It meant that Gar couldn’t hurt someone like him. Someone he loved who didn’t have any meta powers to defend himself - someone who was only flesh and bone with no way to defend against a six hundred pound uncontrollable tiger pouncing on him.

There were moments of mental clarity, tiny little moments when Mercy wasn’t humming in his ear. Moment when he prayed that he would never see Jason again - because he never wanted the blood in his mouth to belong to Jason.

After Rachel helped him gain back control, he still wondered if he was capable of hurting Jason, even by mistake. He was almost glad when Jason rode away from Donna’s funeral in the opposite direction. (Almost.) Because that feeling of missing him came back harder than ever days after the funeral, when the dust had settled. When he realized that he was fully in control of his powers - working well as a Titan, and the only thing missing from the picture in his mind was having Robin right there by his side, working as the perfect duo Jason always knew they could be.

When Gar found out about Jason’s death, he felt numb. It had never felt real. Sure, denial is the first stage of grief - but Gar never truly felt like he was living on the same earth where Jason was not. He felt like the world should have stopped. Or at the very least - he should have gone down with Jason.

He kept imagining that someone would wake him up from the nightmare - that someone would shake him and he would wake up in his bed months earlier, with Conner still in a coma, only to find out that everything that had happened at Cadmus had been one big horrible dream. He would open his eyes to find out that Jason was still alive, waiting to sneak out and get veggie burgers with him at three in the morning.

But no. There was a grave in the backyard of Wayne Manor with his name on it - even if Gar had seen it empty after Dick had dug it up in a manic state. Just to make himself feel like he wasn’t totally crazy, Gar had searched through Bruce’s files and found Jason’s morgue paperwork, wanting to fully confirm that Jason had even died in the first place. After seeing the attached photos of Jason’s bashed-in skull caused him to lose his lunch, he knew then that it was very much real. It wasn’t just a horrific dream.

Jason had died and somehow been brought back from that.

Even then, Gar imagined their reunion to be very different from this.

But here he was - standing in one of the many hallways of Wayne Manor, staring Jason down like a deer in headlights, his heart pounding while his wide eyes fixated on the person he thought that he would never get to see again. Someone covered in bumps and bruises from a fight, looking much more worn down by the world than the guy who used to laugh at Gar’s shitty puns.

Dream, if you can, a courtyard- An ocean of violets in bloom. Animals strike curious poses. They feel the heat - the heat between me and you.

Jason’s eyes flickered down and locked on Gar’s chest, or rather - fixated on his shirt. Jason’s shirt that Gar was wearing. In a moment, he felt more naked than he ever did when he stripped down in public to transform. He felt so fucking caught. Of course Jason knew that Gar was wearing his clothes. Gar could have claimed that it was out of pure convenience, but somehow, as if he was part animal himself - Jason’s pupils dilated and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. It was almost like he could smell the fatal yearning coming off Gar, everything about him that said: ‘I love you, I missed you, I need you’.

“Jason-” Gar croaked out.

There was no chance for conversation.

A streak of movement behind Jason’s heavily armored shoulder realigned Gar’s priorities in a snap.

“Look out!” He shouted, pointing sharply behind Jason before he ducked for cover himself.

Jason didn’t hesitate - he fired his gun, taking the enemy out. He did a visual check of the hallway to make sure that nobody else was coming before he turned back to Gar - who was crouching tightly against one of the divots in the complex design of the old house.

“I’m here for you.” Jason said - finding that he felt far too naked in his own way with how utterly vulnerable this sounded.

Especially when Gar’s lips quivered, almost as if desperate to cry out for him, to thank him for coming home - something.

“I’m here to help. Dick sent me.” He quickly amended, attempting to clarify that this was all business.

Even though, with Gar’s large, glassy eyes staring him down - he couldn’t be sure that’s what it was.

He didn’t have too much time to grind through the details of it, though. They had to get through the business aspects of it or there wouldn’t be any personal details left to untangle because they would all be dead.

They split off, following a plan that Dick had carefully laid out, and Gar was proud when Tim and Dick led Crane out of the Batcave in shackles.

With the relief of knowing that they had won, Gar quickly set about finding Jason once again - to thank him, to ask him what their next move was, to kiss him - he wasn’t quite sure yet. But he felt gleeful.

All that glee was slashed when he caught Jason in his old bedroom, packing a bag.

He had stripped out of his Red Hood armor from the waist-up, and Gar was met with the shocking sight of bright purple welts smothered across the broad of his back. It made Gar’s natural urge toward sympathy ache, especially when it came to Jason. But that feeling conflicted with nothing but boiling anger at the sight of him furiously stuffing things into a duffle bag he had placed into the middle of his bed - clearly trying to rescue everything he could from his old life on the way out.

How can you just leave me standing alone in a world that’s so cold? So cold.

He was running away. Again.

“Going somewhere?” Gar asked, trying to sound tough when his voice was trembling at the very thought of Jason leaving him again.

If he was less mature, he would have dropped to the floor and thrown a catastrophic toddler fit, flailing his limbs and screaming at the top of his lungs. He would have demanded that Jason stay, telling him that he simply wasn’t allowed to leave.

He knew that it was selfish, but it just made Gar feel so disposable. The fact that Jason came into his life, made him laugh, made him smile, fucked him like they were in love, made him care - and then he wanted to run away like Gar meant nothing to him. He knew that Jason had his own issues - a list of problems and past traumas longer than his arm, but Gar would have run away with him. Jason didn’t have to be sentenced to solitude.

All these thoughts caused a sheen of tears to form in Gar’s eyes - the sadness battling with the anger inside his chest. He was threatening to spill those tears by the time Jason whipped around - partially startled, partially angry that his plans to disappear again had been disrupted.

Jason mirrored back his own wet eyes at seeing Gar so upset, but quickly blinked the tears away.

“I was never here.” He quietly croaked. “I can’t-”

“You can’t ‘what’?” Gar barked back, cutting him off.

This was the most cruel way that he had ever spoken to Jason, but he was fed up, to say the least. All of the emotions that he had been politely festering with now boiled over. The grief, the mourning, the loneliness - all of it spilled over at once.

“You can’t stay?” He asked, raising his voice in anger. “You can’t admit that someone actually cares about you for you for once in your fucking life?”

Maybe I’m just too demanding. Maybe I’m just like my father - too bold.

Jason’s face quivered at this.

He knew Gar cared about him. Of course he did. But that was why he had to run. He couldn’t let Gar risk his place with the Titans for a murderous piece of shit like himself. He threatened to break into sobs and he forced himself to become steel. Without Crane’s drugs running through his system, he felt even more weak and chaotic - but he couldn’t let Gar be the drop of water that broke his dam after all these weeks.

“I can’t stay.” He said solemnly, his eyes glued to the floor, refusing to look at Gar. “I - I can’t… stay.” It hung in the air for the moment as the words truly sunk in for him. He had been so busy packing in order to flee that he hadn’t even fully realized why. Now it was even more painful. “They won’t let me.”

The realization pierced through Gar’s heart like a knife.

This wasn’t just about him. Of course it wasn’t.

The thing that he had been fighting for, fighting against all this time - the idea that Jason wasn’t even worthy to come home because he was some crazed killer. Gar wasn’t the only one who got a vote. Gar wasn’t the only one to claim love for him or deny him.

If Gar’s love for him was the only thing that mattered, then the whole thing could have been smoothed over weeks ago. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have left in the first place. Maybe Jason wouldn’t have been balanced on the edge of a roof about to jump off while Gar had been sleeping.

Gar wheezed out a harsh breath - almost as if the pain of the realization had literally pierced his lung, and he was having difficulty breathing because of it.

“Stay.” Gar begged, hardly realizing that he was crying openly now. “I’ll talk to Dick, I’ll-”

Maybe you’re just like my mother: She’s never satisfied.

“I can’t.” Jason said bitterly, entirely defiant. “You know I can’t. Not after everything that’s happened. Especially not after Hank.”

There was a careful kind of mourning in Jason’s voice when he said the name - and potently, he flipped back around then, unable to face Gar after bringing it up. He continued to pack his bag as Gar stared at his back, his throat tightening harshly around everything that he had to say in reply.

Gar loved Hank as a friend - as a mentor, someone to look up to. But even now, he couldn’t fully blame Jason for Hank’s death. He knew that it was all a part of Crane’s plan. He knew that Jason was sorry. Before, that fact was something he had based solely on his knowledge of Jason - but now he could base it on Jason’s very clear guilt towards the situation.

Gar knew that if he told Dick that he forgave Jason for Hank’s death - it would put them on bad terms. Dick had known Hank for longer. And there had been something more there (something more between Dawn, and Hank, and Dick). Something that made that scar extra tender for Dick.

Gar had to find a better way to explain it. Perhaps tell the team that he had once been a pawn himself - he had been to Mercy Graves what Jason was to Crane. And he knew that if she put him alone in a room with Hank and told him to kill, he couldn’t have been sure that his sterling morals and his willpower alone would have held up against everything that she did to him.

Why was the situation with Jason any different?

Why were they so determined not to forgive him?

Out of the corner of his eye, something broke up his contemplative thinking - Jason slipped a tee shirt over his head, and Gar couldn’t ignore the glaring shade of green that said it was one of his. It caused a possessive streak to roll through him - he had a difficult time holding back a feral growl as it flared up in his throat.

It made him only able to focus on one thing.

“What about before?” Gar croaked out, disappointment apparent in his voice.

Jason looked over his shoulder with gentle confusion, and he felt the need to clarify.

“What about everything that happened before Hank?” Gar rephrased the question. “Doesn’t that matter?”

Why do we scream at each other?

Jason wanted to say - yes, of course it does.

But it felt so much more complicated than that.

“Gar-” He barely choked the name out before he was cut off.

Gar couldn’t stand to hear more excuses - more reasons as to why Jason was going to cut and run. He reached a hand up to Jason’s neck and pulled him into a kiss before anything else could come spilling from his mouth.

It felt like trying to desperately claw his way into the front door of a home he once knew - a house that was now cold and abandoned as Jason stood stalk still, purposefully not kissing him back. Jason wasn’t letting him in - not giving him a single sign that there was any love left there. That there had even been love here in the first place.

Deep down, Jason was terrified. If he gave in and kissed Gar back - he would be done for. He would be opening himself up to a world of hurt that he once thought he could erase with doses of Anti-Fear Gas.

Gar was used to playfulness; teeth nibbling on his lips, laughter in the air. He was used to a hand reaching for the tie on the front of his sweatpants while that cocky voice muttered lustful ‘threats’ against his mouth - something about how he was ‘going to get it’ - when in actuality, Jason was always the one who ended up a moaning mess on his cock.

Tears spilled hotly from the corners of his eyes and a sobbed choked out from the back of his throat when Jason was completely still against him. He was being so coldly denied - Jason was like stone, fighting off everything he had missed most from Gar because he still felt like he had to run, and this was nothing more than a distraction from that.

“Please.” Gar wept against his mouth.

It was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but - Jason didn’t move.

This is what it sounds like: When Doves Cry.

Gar pulled back harshly then. When his wet eyes fell to the Triforce printed in the middle of Jason’s chest, further signaling that it wasn’t his shirt (because he likely had no clue what the symbol meant or what it even was) - Gar felt a wave of rage overtake him. He gripped the hem of the green shirt and didn’t hesitate to yank it up over Jason’s head. Rather than the typical heat that this action would lead to, there was nothing but bitter tension in the air as Gar waved the ball-up fabric in front of Jason’s face.

“This is mine.” He choked out, barely holding back a wave of sobs. “So - so if you’re leaving, you can’t take it with you. You can’t be that much of an asshole. You can’t just take everything that belongs to me.”

Gar choked on his own words, holding back more.

They both knew that the words held a dangerous double meaning. If he was going to run, he would be taking so much that belonged to Gar - so much more than some fabric that they had once blissfully shared.

He would be ripping Gar’s heart out of his chest and taking it with him.

Jason looked at him with tears now leaking from his eyes. Oceanic blue swimming in bloodshot red - not a pretty sight, by any means. He took in a heavy breath, but his stomach was visibly trembling where he was holding in his own sobs.

He wanted Gar to tell him to stay. He didn’t want Gar to be okay with him leaving - he wanted it to be such a fight that he couldn’t just walk away.

Touch if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. You’ve got the butterflies all tied up. Don’t make me chase you - even doves have pride.

Gar - still feeling the need to comfort Jason, even stewing in all his anger toward this man he called lover, enemy, or friend - dropped the shirt on the floor and reached out, smoothing his hands over Jason’s hips. He leaned in and laid the most feather-light butterfly kisses across Jason’s shoulder, and Jason choked on another sob.

Gar smoothed a hand over Jason’s stomach, and under the intense heat of Gar’s large palm - his muscles calmed. Any cries of anguish died off inside of him and he was able to gather enough breath to speak as Gar laid a gentle cheek on his shoulder.

“You - you can’t do this.” Jason whispered, the weakest protest he could have come up with.

Gar only hummed in response. This close to Jason, he could almost feel that thing inside Jason, yearning for him, crying out to him.

He knew that Jason didn’t want to leave. He knew that if he was patient, Jason would crumble to the need as much as he was.

He already felt as though he had won.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” Jason added on, his words slightly steadier now. He curled his fingers into the fabric of the shirt Gar was wearing - the one he had picked up off of Jason’s bedroom floor when he had landed. “This is mine.”

Gar wanted to make some sarcastic jest about how he wasn’t planning on leaving while wearing it - but he became choked up at how the words sounded. As though Jason was truly claiming him - something he had been waiting to hear for so damn long.

He lifted his head to ask if it was true - if Jason would stay for him or if they could flee together - but Jason caught the back of his neck and slammed their lips together, stealing any words that Gar was planning to speak.

There was a certain fierceness that followed next - a battle of stubborn wills that was as stiff and tense as their words.

Passion and love and anger are spears all lined up on the same fence, all equally sharpened - Gar was still angry with Jason for leaving in the first place and never coming back. He still blamed Jason for all those months of bitter loneliness that he had felt, for being left there in the Tower with no help when Cadmus had attacked. Deep in the back of his mind, there was a fantasy of the night they attacked - of Beast Boy and Robin operating as the perfect team to snub out evil.

Jason was still mad at Gar for not chasing him, for not asking him to come home. Mad at him for not making more of an effort, for siding with Dick on seemingly everything.

He had no clue how hard Gar had fought to bring him home. How much Gar’s voice had burrowed into the ears of the others, especially Dick, being the only remaining one to speak up, vouching for Jason’s good side. If he had been a fly on the wall, perhaps he would have bowed at Gar’s feet, thanking him.

But instead - these lopsided views created a bitter stubbornness. Something that made the kiss feral and angry - gnashing teeth and hot, hard breaths as they grabbed and groped at each other, battling with their own anger and swelling up with that love they tried so hard to deny.

Why bother staying so angry with someone if you didn’t care about them? Why take that much time and effort to be pissed off if you wouldn’t just forgive the person out of love at the end of the day?

Jason ripped off Gar’s shirt - the borrowed shirt that only further reminded him of everything he had missed out on, the home he couldn’t come back to. He threw it to the floor, trying his best to forget about it - but this only made way for Gar’s hot skin underneath his own, forcing more temptation as they made more skin-on-skin contact.

He let out a kind of wounded sound when Gar gripped the back of his head and swept down, his mouth tracing along Jason’s neck, digging his teeth in. He was still unsure if he was trying to claim Jason in that animalistic way and make it impossible for him to leave or if he was just taking that anger out on him, trying to cause a little bit of pain - trying to make Jason feel a fraction of what he had felt. Either way, his teeth were savage and frantic on Jason’s skin, and Jason’s nerves screamed pleasurably with the full effects of it.

“Fuck,” Jason moaned out as Gar sunk his teeth in harder. “Fuck you.”

Gar was about to make some clever reply - the typical ‘you should’ or ‘I’m trying to’.

But he was caught off guard, silenced when Jason put a hand in the middle of his now bare chest and shoved him back toward the bed - causing him to sprawl beside the bag that Jason had been trying to steal away with. He poofed out across the luxurious, expensive mattress; there was a worrying second as he looked up at Jason when he believed that Jason might just pick up that bag and run.

He could use this as his opportunity to flee.

But instead, Jason eyed him up and down heavily - lustful eyes casting a thick gaze over Gar’s body. Looking over every inch of him carefully, from his now ruffled hair, down across his heaving chest, to the place where Jason’s borrowed pants were hanging low on his hips - the thickness of his hard cock very apparent between his thighs with no underwear on underneath them.

Jason knew it was temptation. Fondness.

At the time, perhaps he considered it ‘one last hurrah’. But in truth, it was the breaking point - the point of no return. The point at which Gar had truly hooked him in and reeled him back. Between those big, beautiful brown eyes staring up at him with a combination of intense affection and fear at the possibility of him leaving and that fat cock practically calling to him - Jason was done for.

Jason reached for the button on his own pants, and Gar remained frozen for a moment.

“Well,” Jason said impatiently. Gar still didn’t move, unsure what was expected of him in that moment. “Get your fuckin’ pants off. I know you’re not shy about stripping down, ya damn nudist.”

Gar felt the tension leave his body with a stiff exhale. He wanted to make some smartass comment, but found himself lacking. Instead, he became distracted by rushing to get the pants off and watching the flexing of Jason’s muscles while he worked to get his own pants and boots off.

All he could muster up was:

“You - you’re an asshole,” Gar chuckled out, throwing Jason a genuine smile as he kicked the fabric off his ankles, leaving himself wonderfully bare in the middle of the bed.

Gar’s eyes traced over Jason’s naked body - he seemed more thick and muscular than the last time Gar had seen him. Had he been training harder in the time that he’d been gone? Though his overall build was still much the same - matching Gar in stature, though Gar’s muscles were leaner and softer compared to Jason now. And if Gar wasn’t mistaken, Jason’s cock was bigger? Though that seemed more like a trick of the eye. (Though, it was still a good two or three inches smaller than Gar’s, which Jason often called ‘monstrous’ and joked that he could barely walk after taking.)

Gar didn’t have too much time to admire Jason’s nudity before Jason was on top of him, bumping their cocks together as he climbed onto Gar’s lap.

Gar let out a harsh growl from deep within his chest at the feeling of his sensitive dick being touched by someone else for the first time in months - for the first time since Jason had stormed away from the Tower in a fit. Since then, he’d had nothing but his own hand and distant memories of Jason fueled by the fading smell on the clothes he’d left behind.

Even then, it’s not like he had the opportunity or even the desire to touch himself all that often - not with the chaos going on in his life. So having a warm body in his lap again - the warm body of someone he had missed so fucking much - it reignited the fire inside of him like poking holes in a gasoline tankard and lighting a match.

“Fuck, Jay.”

Gar reached up and tightly, possessively grabbed Jason by the ass, pulling him closer instinctively. This caused the echo of a whimper from within Jason’s throat as he bent down to take Gar’s lips again. Jason’s hands planted firmly on the hard muscle of Gar’s chest and Gar kept that needy grasp on Jason’s ass - wanting to keep Jason as close to him as possible.

The touch quickly turned into moving Jason on top of him, grinding Jason’s body on top of his so that their cocks were gyrating together - a perfectly filthy clash of hot skin that fit together so well after they had been apart for too long.

They moaned into each other’s mouths and Jason forced his tongue past Gar’s sweet, pink lips - as if he was still trying to put up that fight, still trying to show that he held some power over the man underneath him. Gar’s cock was leaking furiously and soon the slide of their two cocks became wet and glossy while Gar’s bright pink cockhead was continually nudged against his stomach, making a mess against his abs and staining slickness all over Jason’s eager, throbbing dick.

“Fuck. Fuck, man.” Jason hissed, pulling away from the kiss, a new urgency pumped into him.

Gar felt a slight streak of disappointment when Jason looked away from him - like a fictional pixie, fading away for the slightest moment without Jason’s attention. The feeling was doubled when Jason took the touch of his chest. He actually found himself whimpering like a pathetic puppy as he wondered what Jason was doing.

It made a bit more sense when Jason frantically unzipped his would-be getaway bag - rifling through the pockets, ripping out spare underwear and - fuck, of course, more of Gar’s bright green shirts that he had stolen - until he came back with a bottle in hand.

Lube.

Of course. Of course that would be something Jason considered to be an essential to travel with when he was stealing away into the night, never to be seen or heard from again.

Gar would have made some kind of joke about it, but he found his mouth dry, and he was far too horny and mesmerized, his blood pumping through him at top speed as he watched Jason. Who uncapped the bottle and squirted some onto his fingers - then his hand disappeared behind him while he tensed his thighs and hiked his body higher up onto his knees, clearly with the intent to finger himself open in preparation for Gar’s cock.

Gar huffed out hot breath.

It had been so damn long.

He felt his cock pulse with fierce need and spurt out more pathetic spurts of precum, making his stomach even more shiny as it began to pool inside his belly button. He rubbed his hands lovingly over Jason’s thighs as he continued to watch with the utmost rapture, his eyes drinking in every single inch of the beautiful body in front of him - the flexing muscles, the sharpness of Jason’s hips, the thickness of his thighs, the way his perfect, modest cock bobbed between his thighs while he worked. His plump, pink bottom lip snagged between his teeth while he tried to contain his moans. Something that turned the sounds into the most beautiful little grunts that Gar had ever heard.

After a few moments, Jason pulled his fingers from himself with a sinfully wet sound, and then he reached for the bottle of lube again. Gar was surprised though when he went straight to pouring the shockingly cool liquid across Gar’s cock.

Typically it took them a lot more work to get Jason ready to take Gar, seeing as he was a bit longer than nine inches, impressively thick - and though he tried his hardest to be gentle - when Jason begged him and nagged him with purpose, he could sometimes get carried away. (Jason claimed that he liked the feeling of soreness afterwards, but Gar sometimes felt guilty for letting go of self control and pounding into Jason like an animal.)

“You - you want more help?” Gar choked out.

With Jason’s hand on his cock, spreading the wetness, he was already pushing his orgasm down past the onslaught of sensations - the lube warming under Jason’s hot touch, the purposefully loose grip that Jason had on his dick that just made him itch and made him want more.

Jason grunted in reply.

“I fucked myself this morning.” He said, distinctly not making eye contact with Gar. Instead, continuing to stare at his own hand as he picked up the bottle and poured more wetness around his grip on that impressive, thick cock, and then spread it around.

He almost added on: ‘I was thinking about you when I did it.’

But somehow, even now - that felt too emotionally vulnerable.

Gar quickly became swallowed up by heated thoughts of this. He became consumed by the visual image of Jason splayed out on a bed somewhere, (wherever he had been staying since he had left), fucking himself with his fingers shoved deep inside his well-lubed hole while his other hand moved frantically on his cock. Or even better, pounding a toy inside of himself like the one Gar had found snooping through his room while looking for anything he could use to help Jason against Crane.

He would look so fucking good like that, spread open on the unforgiving thickness of the silicone, desperate whines and moans coming from his lips because it was good, but it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t perfect like having Gar’s hot body on top of him while Gar’s big cock carved out a spot deep inside his guts-

While Gar was distracted by these thoughts, Jason took the opportunity to line up the now well-lubed dick with his prepped hole and sink down onto Gar without another word. This caught Gar off guard, stealing his breath in the best way. It was smooth and slick and he didn’t waste a second before putting his entire body weight onto Gar, letting his ass rest flush with Gar’s pelvis so that Gar’s impressive cock was fully inside of him.

“Jay - oh, fuck.”

Gar let out a chest-rattling moan and quickly became dizzy, and it didn’t even occur to him that Jason had skipped putting a condom on him. So, this was the first time that he was bare inside Jason, absolutely no barriers between them. He couldn’t mentally comprehend it, and all he could think was - of course it was hotter, of course it felt better - he hadn’t seen Jason for so long, he had forgotten how perfect Jason felt around him, he had forgotten that it felt this fucking good.

“God, fuck, Gar, your dick-” Jason mumbled out, clearly lost in a haze of pleasure himself.

Jason didn’t waste a second - with Gar too pleasure-numb, Jason simply took what he needed. He planted his hands on Gar’s chest while Gar’s hands rested dumbly on his thighs, and he began frantically bouncing up and down on Gar’s dick, impaling himself on that beautiful big cock, quickly creating a good rhythm. He watched with awe and swelling adoration as his eyes locked on the man below him.

Gar looked so perfect like this.

His body was a sculpture of perfection, like Adonis himself, carved from marble. Every single time Jason got him naked in bed, he wondered how the hell he had gotten so lucky. With his pink lips parted as increasingly loud moans escaped him and his brows creased with pleasure, bits of that distinct green hair stuck to his forehead from the efforts. His stomach fluttering and flexing every single time Jason slammed his hips down and took Gar back inside him fully, Gar’s body glistening with sweat, slick from their encounter so far - he was a picture of perfection, not a single flaw that Jason could pick out.

And while his hole was tingling with the pleasure of having Gar inside him again and his cock was throbbing as it danced between them, beginning to sputter out precum now - he was beginning to ache with a brand new need.

He was chasing a sexual need, of course, but he was also growing frantic with an emotional need that he had pushed down for so many months. He had missed Gar so fucking much. So much it hurt - and he had used so much to try and forget about it - the Anti Fear gas, the intense focus on Crane’s mission, the booze, the distance.

But now it was all right here in front of him - those moans he had missed so much, that green hair, the smell of someone so distinct that he had tried huffing off clothing like a drug that he couldn’t buy anywhere off the street. He swallowed thickly and tried his best to hold back tears, and was only reminded of this more when Gar’s fingers dug into his hips - a firm but loving grasp that only more deeply reminded him of who he was fucking. Reminded him of what he had missed out on.

“Dammit,” Jason huffed out. “Fuck - your-your cock is so good,”

Usually he was a motormouth during sex. He was infamous for never shutting up until his orgasm hit him like a truck. If it was spitting out ‘fuckboy’-esque promises that he never could keep because he usually wasn’t the one fucking Gar’s brains out (but rather, mindlessly taking a cock), or horny blabbering as he begged for more - his tongue was constantly sputtering out something while Gar touched him.

So he thought that talking would be a good distraction from the horrible knot in his gut - from this thing that he was feeling. He didn’t need to deal with those stupid fucking feelings right now. He just didn’t.

“So fuckin’ big.” Jason whined. “You feel so good inside me.”

Gar grunted in return, taking a tighter hold on Jason’s hips and helping more now. He helped Jason slam down harder, causing a harsher collision of their skin each time - a sharp, wet slapping that sounded absolutely sinful in the room. It made Jason feel fuller somehow, and he let out a downright whorish sound, struggling to get out his next words.

“God - I - fuck -” He whined. “Your cock - Gar - you feel so-”

“Yeah.” Gar breathed back in reply, encouraging him. “Yeah, Jay.”

With another hard slam of Gar’s hips up into his hole, Jason’s mouth was knocked loose.

“Missed this dick.” He breathed out. “Missed this - missed this so much. Missed you.”

It was a stubborn admission that even the world’s harshest torture couldn’t have pulled out of him. But the feeling of Gar’s cock deep inside of him, those fingers digging into his flesh like he owned Jason - that was enough to have his tongue loosening around his secrets and have him spilling into vulnerability like it was his fucking job.

Jason didn’t have enough time for the sting of regret to settle over saying the words, because something inside Gar snapped. The mourning in Jason’s voice, knowing that Jason has missed him just as much - he went from dumb and lustful as Jason bounced on his cock to swelling with that passionate anger once again. He had missed too much time with Jason, and he needed to make up for it. He needed Jason to know that he couldn’t just run away - that he mattered.

He became filled with the determined need to show Jason that he couldn’t leave - he could never leave, because Gar had missed him too.

Gar loved him. Gar needed him.

They needed each other.

Gar grabbed him around the waist and with a deep growl that was truly bordering on animal this time, he flipped Jason over onto his back. His cock slipped out of Jason, slick from the lube, causing Jason to make a startled, disappointed noise as he suddenly felt far too empty. When Gar leaned over Jason and felt Jason’s getaway bag brushing against his knee, a swell of offense came over him. He reached for the bag, shoving it off the bed without a second thought - spilling clothes and other random items across the floor out of the open zippers, something that neither of them paid any mind to in the following hours.

“Please, Gar-” Jason breathed out, and from there, anything else in the world was shut out for him and Gar.

Maybe what they had done before could never be considered making love - but they certainly had their moments. Times when Jason would kiss Gar’s forehead after making him cum, before getting out of bed without a word. Times when Gar grabbed both of Jason’s hands and interlocked their fingers while he rocked his cock deep inside of him. But for the most part, they fucked filthy and horny and desperate. They fucked like two guys in a race to get each other off - and it worked for them.

But this felt different.

As Gar slipped his cock back inside of Jason, he locked eyes with the man below him and a spark ran through him that said this was different. This wasn’t turning to the closest warm body out of convenience or boredom. This wasn’t just a friendship with some very particular, spectacular benefits. This was the intense gaze of a lover, locked into a stare that said the rest of the world was locked out, completely forgotten just because Gar was touching him.

This was coming home.

This meant that nothing else mattered - no past transgressions, no supposed mistakes, no demanding corrupt figures that had used them as pawns in their own games - none of it could even be seen as Jason locked his knees around Gar’s lower back, holding him tightly in place, silently begging him not to go too far.

A quiet: please, don’t leave me, I need you.

I need you just as much as you need me. I swear it.

Gar held back more tears, and his next huff of breath turned into another low growl - a sound that had Jason whining quietly and clenching down on his cock. That hint at his more animal side had always been something Jason had liked - especially knowing that Gar was the most tame ‘beast’ he had ever met. Ironic, considering that Gar could turn into a six hundred pound tiger and he could shred people with his teeth at will. But Gar was the most gentle person Jason had ever known - someone he trusted with his life within a day of knowing him. Someone better than his own blood relatives and shitty foster ‘families’ who had tossed him out onto the street without a second thought.

Gar was never a beast, no matter what he was capable of.

“Please.” Jason begged, his voice slightly choked and breathless.

He held on tightly to the side of Gar’s face, the other hand straying around to grip the back of Gar’s shoulder - and though Gar’s cock was already throbbing and threatening to blow far too early, he knew he couldn’t deny Jason any longer.

Gar pressed his forehead into Jason’s neck, unable to stand the piercing interrogation of that gaze - looking for atonement, looking for validation, looking for love. Gar would give him all of those things, and he fucking will - but he couldn’t concentrate on that and delivering a quality fuck at the same time. Jason deserved that, too. He deserved to cum in a spectacular and satisfying way.

With his concentration a bit steadier, Gar began to fuck his hips forward - fucking into Jason in slow, smooth strokes.

“Jay, fuck,” He moaned out. “So fucking good. You’re so fucking good.”

Jason let out a high whine in return and Gar sped up his hips - fucking into Jason faster, but nowhere near as fast as Jason had been riding him. It was still so tender and slow, deep and firm as the thickness of his cock truly made a home inside of Jason that reminded them both exactly where he belonged.

Jason’s voice warbled - becoming nothing but a nonsensical echo of weak sounds dispersing into the air. Gar couldn’t help himself; he kissed a trail from the middle of Jason’s chest up his neck once again, taking the time to lay a few more possessive bites across Jason’s neck before he reached his face. When he felt roughness under his lips, it truly sunk in that Jason had been hurt - he had picked up a few injuries while fighting to defend him and the other Titans. Jason had put his body on the line for them.

How could Jason ever be bad if he was willing to get hurt in order to protect his family?

A swell of passion and possessiveness streaked through him again.

His tongue sneaked out of his mouth and he licked over the cut above Jason’s eye like a cat trying to lick the wound clean, all of his instincts heightened with the lust pumping through him. Something in his lust-drunken brain was screaming at him that Jason needed this care, and nothing more than the saliva from his tongue would make Jason feel better.

He did this, kitten licking across the cut, while he continually ground his hips deeply against Jason’s, stuffing his cock ever deeper into Jason’s needy hole. It made for a breath-taking combination of care, attention, and heat that made Jason’s stomach curl.

“Gar-” He gasped out. “I - ah - fuck!”

Gar gave another little lick and then moved to grab both of Jason’s hands, entwining their fingers on both sides as he had done in the past. Previous times Jason had laughed about it or called him cheesy, or even suggested that Gar use handcuffs instead if he truly wanted to pin Jason down. But this time, as Gar brought the grip of their tangled hands up above Jason’s head and continued fucking him so deeply. Jason only let out another shuddering gasp and looked Gar in the eyes with a glassy look that said he was truly gone.

He had surrendered everything to Gar now.

He couldn’t have run from this if he tried.

“Come on,” Gar grunted, slamming his hips a little harder, a little more determined - pulling back a bit more, going a bit deeper. It was a motion that pulled louder sounds from Jason, that made him tremble.

“Cum for me.” He breathed into Jason’s ear. “Cum on my cock - so good for me. Cum for me, show me how much you missed me.”

Gar kept Jason pinned by their joined hands and by his hips holding Jason tightly to the bed. With his cock slamming into Jason in fierce, heavy, hard strokes - and with Jason’s cock jostling between them, brushing against Gar’s impossibly hot stomach - it was difficult for him to deny the order. With those words spoken in that perfect voice, floating in his ears, the orgasm shot through his body like his soul awakening - like he was truly feeling himself for the first time since he had woken up after The Pit.

“Shh - shit! Ah! Fuck!”

He gasped and struggled to get air into his lungs, and Gar cloaked his mouth over Jason’s gaping lips, fucking him right through it. Jason’s cock jumped and jolted between them, painting both their stomachs with his cum while his hole tightened and clenched around Gar - while he shook beneath Gar and tightly grasped Gar’s hands.

It was utterly perfect.

“Please, please, please-” Jason gasped, frantic.

He needed Gar to cum, too. He needed the feeling to be complete.

Gar let out another growl, shoving his head into Jason’s neck, taking a healthy whiff of his sweat as he fucked his hips hard into Jason.

“Mine.” He growled possessively into Jason’s skin. “Mine, mine, mine-” He punctuated each slap of his hips into Jason’s ass with the word, his mind filled with this as though it were the one true thing in the world.

“Mine.”

A final pathetic dribble of cum escaped Jason before Gar’s cock began pumping into him. As he came, Gar’s teeth latched onto his neck once again, biting down hard enough to pull blood this time - creating a twinge of copper under Gar’s tongue and wringing even more inhuman sounds out of Jason.

Gar pressed his hips as deep as possible into Jason, making them both utterly high on the feeling of his cum fucking deep into Jason for the first time. Jason feeling it so warm inside of him and having it pool and leak down over Gar’s balls - it only further reminded them how utterly close they were, how deeply Gar had marked Jason, how Jason was cursed to return back to Gar because he needed this - it was a deep reminder of how Gar was his home.

Tears leaked from Jason’s eyes and Gar licked them away, grinding his hips deep into Jason - causing stray whimpers and aftershocks of pleasure while his cock began to soften.

“God, oh-”

“I know.” Gar replied, his voice more ragged than he imagined it should be.

When he pulled out, it felt like a shock to both of their systems. Too empty, too distant - even still so close to a warm body, too cold.

Jason’s first instinct was to get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. Especially feeling the stickiness and the mess all over his body as he came down from the high. But Gar rolled onto his back and put a tight arm around his back.

“Sleep now.” Gar told him, puffing out an oddly cute little yawn. For someone who had just fucked his brains out - he now resembled a sleepy little house cat.

Jason found that he couldn’t really argue with that.

…

Even though Jason was exhausted and hadn’t slept much in the past few weeks, he woke up long before Gar did.

There was still so much worry plaguing him.

Oddly enough, Gar’s snoring was more of a comfort than it was a disturbance. It reminded him of sharing a wall with Gar when their bedrooms had been so close together; when he had laid awake at night after scurrying out of Gar’s bed at top speed after they had fucked, wondering what it would have been like if he had decided to stay.

Back then, it felt like the end of the world to open up to Gar. But now, he couldn’t help but to wonder if it would have saved him in the long run.

Titans Tower was never the perfect place for him. It only ever felt livable because Gar had been there. They grew so close so quickly - at the time, Jason had tried to convince himself that it was just friendship. That it was the delusion of being stuck in close quarters. Gar was convenient - he was a good fuck, close by, and he was hot. He was someone Jason could get off with while Dick and Bruce had him locked up. And most of all, Gar was pleasant to be around. He didn’t look down on Jason like he was just some street rat, and he didn’t expect Jason to perform miracles just because he had taken on the mantle of Robin.

Gar treated him like an equal. At the time, that was the best that Jason could ask for.

Jason didn’t think there were any possible downsides to being close with Gar, and letting himself have some sexual relief in the process.

Until Deathstroke.

If he had any feelings for Gar, he had been suppressing them, and then - Gar argued with him about going out to hunt down Doctor Light. He felt betrayed. He felt like Gar didn’t understand him anyway, like Gar would always side with Bruce’s favorite - Good Old Dickie. The one thing he had been putting Gar on a pedestal for - treating him as an equal - was slashed away within seconds.

Back then, Jason couldn’t think rationally. He felt like he needed to capture Doctor Light and bring him in to get back in Bruce’s good graces, to show the Titans what he could do. He had no clue that Gar was scared for him; that he was acting out of fear, trying to protect Jason. (Something he would continue to do no matter what, apparently.)

At the time, Jason was insecure and stir crazy and he let it get to him.

And then, he was blindfolded, strapped to a chair, stabbed, and beaten, and all he could think of was how much he was going to disappoint Gar. How much he was going to hurt him. Bruce, Dick, and the other Titans were the farthest thing from his mind - all he could think about were the last time those soft lips had been on his, the flash of green hair. The utterly disappointed look Gar had given him when he had declined to call Dick for back-up before going into the train tunnels.

Gar thought Jason was stupid. But Gar was so damn soft-hearted. And Jason couldn’t stop thinking about how much he was going to hurt Gar with his idiotic antics. How much he was going to take from someone who didn’t deserve it.

As he was strapped to that chair, watching Deathstroke sharpen the sword, all he could think about was the look on Gar’s face - the tears he was going to cry when he was eventually told about Jason being sliced open. Especially because he knew that Gar would blame himself for not saving Jason, for not calling Dick sooner - and it was all Jason’s own stupid fault.

When he got back, somehow unscathed, he kept his distance from Gar. It hadn’t happened then, but the day would come when he would bring Gar a lot of undue pain - and if he started severing their ‘friendship’ now, then he could eventually soften the blow. At least, that was his line of thinking. He kept far away from Gar’s room when he needed that comfort more than ever, thinking that it would both do them better in the long run.

When a knock came on his door, he was surprised that it was Rose, and not Gar - and he was pissed off and annoyed more than anything. She was persistent and he was tired.

When she barged her way in, he found a particular part of his brain nagging at him - telling him that technically, he was still single. He shouldn’t get so attached to Gar anyway, because it would only hurt them both later on. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to be attached - he wanted to know that he could run at any time. He needed to know that he wouldn’t get hurt. More importantly, that he wouldn’t hurt someone soft and caring like Gar.

He wanted to be able to say that everything going on between him and Gar was just sex.

So he let himself kiss Rose.

And he felt absolutely nothing.

When she told him: ‘Don’t be stupid and maybe it’ll happen again.’

He wanted to bark out: ‘It won’t.’

But he didn’t want to lay it all out. He didn’t want to tell her of all people that he was in love with his best friend and that’s why he wasn’t available. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud - and that’s why he settled for simply telling her to loudly fuck off as he stormed out of Titans Tower, determined to be alone. Especially when Gar did nothing more than stare him down with sad eyes, not moving a muscle, making no efforts to chase him.

He was meant to be alone. Or so he thought.

It was very clear that Gar had other plans.

Gar - who was currently snoring beside him with the presence of a slumbering lion. Perhaps Gar had skewed his idea of what it might actually be like to sleep beside a lion - wholly warm, downright hot, with heat radiating off his skin like a furnace, utterly soft and cuddly even though he was so muscled, someone who slept with his mouth agape and snored loudly - but in a pleasantly rhythmic way. He was a perfect, quaint, slumbering beast.

He made Jason feel safe.

It was not a luxury Jason had often in life. Maybe it was the thing that kept him coming back to Gar, again and again - that precious feeling of safety. It truly was better than any drug.

More and more presently by the minute, Jason was reminded of the mess - the unpleasant drying cum between his cheeks and on his lower stomach, leaking out of him and no longer pleasantly warm. It made him want a shower. He didn’t want to scare Gar by having him wake up to an empty bed, but he also didn’t want to wake him, steal sleep away from him when he clearly desperately needed it.

Jason nudged his way to the edge of the bed, trying to sneak away to the bathroom - but when he heard a harsh snort from Gar, he knew him well enough to know that this had signaled the end of his sleep; a harsh jolt awake.

“Where are you going?” Gar mumbled tiredly, not even having his eyes fully open yet before he frantically looked around for Jason.

“I was just gonna go shower, crawl outta my ass.” Jason hissed back, still feeling a bit raw and defensive.

He knew that Gar would sacrifice anything for him, but he still felt unworthy. Like a puffer fish growing big in defense, Jason was spitting out sourness in a last-ditch attempt to get Gar to change his mind - to shift his thinking last minute and suddenly see the truth: to find him unworthy.

Jason was almost shocked when Gar smiled.

Gar held back a clever quip about how he had made a home inside Jason’s ass and he wasn’t going to change that now.

“I’ll come with you.” He said instead. “Hot shower sounds nice right about now.”

“You should stay and sleep.” Jason told him, still teetering on the edge of the bed. “You’re clearly tired.”

“And you’re not?” Gar probed back.

There was a moment of tense silence. Jason didn’t offer up a reply.

“Come on, what’s this about?” Gar asked, fully opening his eyes now, propping himself up on one elbow to stare Jason down.

“After I get dressed, I have to go and talk to Dick.” Jason declared.

The words were heavy in the air.

The admission that he no longer felt the need to run. That he wanted to make an effort to stay, that he actually wanted to ask for his place back with the Titans.

Gar wanted to squeal with glee. Naturally, he held himself back. There would be a few more bumps in the road before Jason was officially home.

“Not by yourself.” Gar told him sharply.

Jason’s jaw clenched. He was afraid to admit that he needed the help. It was something he had been afraid of for a long time.

But he knew that without Gar’s help, without Gar vouching for him in Dick’s eyes, the conversation would likely only go one way.

And he needed to come home. He needed to stay.

Jason felt weak, and his voice was quiet when he finally mustered it up.

“Okay.”

It was a weak surrender. But things between him and Gar had never been that kind of battle. Not the kind of battle that he had with Bruce, or with Dick, or even with himself. There was never any true hatred there. Just the kind of fierce anger you feel when you love someone so much that you fear losing them.

So this surrender didn’t feel like a stain on his record - didn’t feel too much like giving up, after all. Not when the picture he ended up with had him and Gar in the same frame. It was something that made him feel more content and less defeated when Gar poorly concealed a smile in response - and then pulled him in for a kiss before getting up to grab towels for their shower.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, so please do not ask for a second part or a continuation. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written.

Also, typically, I don't write character x character fics, so if you randomly found this in tags and you really like it - I apologize, because the rest of my masterlist is not like this and I won't be writing anything else like it anytime soon. I do write a lot of Titans fics and I have a lot more of them on my masterlist, so if you enjoy my style of smut or if you really enjoy my characterization of these two, then you should definitely check out the other things I have written - particularly No Place Like Home, which has a lot more JayGar scenes in it.

If you do really like my writing style and you want to see Titans x Reader fics (which is what I typically write), then you can follow me and sign up for my DC Titans Taglist by replying to this post asking to be put on the taglist or sending me an ask about it. Anyway, glad you enjoying the fic if you read this far, thanks for reading!!

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans fanfiction #jaygar #jason todd x gar logan #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd smut #gar logan fanfiction #garfield logan fanfiction #gar logan smut #dc titans fanfiction

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