#my brain has been running rampant the past two days over this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raggaraddy · 3 years ago

Note

Can you please do a yandere hyung line reaction to MC being jealous and tries to hide it ( For jin could you please make it as his wife has come back for a short holiday or something)

A/N: My brain did not want to do the writing thing the last couple of days, but I got there. I think these stories are good? but somehow they all ended up a bit soft. I hope you like them though 🤞 because it was a great request! Thank you 💜💜💜

@blacksnow160

Summary: Hyung line reaction when you get jealous.

Trigger warning: Smut, violence, blood-drinking, murder, abuse, yandere themes.

Alpha! Namjoon

Normally you didn't consider yourself clingy. You enjoyed your personal space and your time alone. But at the same time, you've also become accustomed to Namjoon dropping everything to take care of you. This entire week though, he's been preoccupied with a territorial issue, and the last 3 nights he hasn't even come to bed.

Leaving you feeling a little discarded, to say the least.

Nevertheless, you're a mature adult, and you were able to let it go with the knowledge that Namjoon is an Alpha who has responsibilities and knowing that he would still rather be with you.

It is, however, a comfort that you have trouble holding on to whenever you see the new girl around him. It's not like you're jealous. It's just that she doesn't seem to know how to behave respectfully or appropriately around Namjoon. She always stands too close or looks at him a bit too much, and she's way too touchy. Only his elbow, arm, or shoulder. But it's like, get your fucking hands off him.

Rationally, you know Joon is your mate and you own his heart, mind, and body. Still, it doesn't stop you from tossing restlessly, laying in bed at 2 am, once again alone. The two things added together making you feeling sour. Feeling sick of being sent away while this other girl gets to stick around being way too familiar with your Boyfriend.

Coming downstairs in your pyjamas, you weave in among the wolves working your way to Namjoon. Standing at the dining table, looking over a mess of paper, he notices you right away a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n, what are you doing up?"He asks, checking his watch.

There she is again, right next to him. Her hand casually coming off his shoulder when she sees you.

"It's late. Go back to bed, Beautiful." he coos.

You ignore his instruction. Wrapping to his side by pushing yourself between him and this girl, creating space for yourself with a not-so-subtle shoving of your elbow into her arm. Smiling up at him sweetly as he accepts your presence, hugging you tightly.

"We're going to be busy most of the night. You should go to bed." he leans down to whisper, his breath tickling your ear. He's trying not to draw the focus from the rest of the table into your personal discussion.

"I'll go up when you come with me." You whisper back.

"It's going to be a few more hours still baby." He sighs, seeming frustrated with the circumstances.

"Then I'm staying here."

"You shouldn't-"

"Don't argue with me Kim Namjoon. You're not going to win this one." While it's said in jest, you also mean it. He'll have to drag you upstairs to make you go. And if he steps foot in that bedroom, you both know you'll be able to make him stay.

"Oh really?" He challenges, fighting the smile growing on his face, not wanting to encourage your mischievous behaviour.

Grabbing the collar of his black tee, you pull him down to your height, smacking your lips against his. Kissing him passionately and longingly. Something you haven't been able to do for nearly a full week.

Letting his shirt go, his smile is fully grown. His dimples on display.

"Really." You finalize, looking up at him coquettishly.

You can see the struggle playing in his mind. He's extremely tempted to throw you over his shoulder and take you upstairs right now, his wolf fighting to shirk his responsibilities and give in to desire. His chest rumbling lowly as he winks down at you.

"Okay baby." his fingers dig into your hips, "If you're gonna play dirty, you can stay." He teases with a chuckle. Resisting the bait.

Feeling calmed and relaxed on the warmth of his hold again, a smug sense of pride fills your chest. From the corner of your eye, you can see her attention on the two of you. Your ego is not able to resist, and you shoot a cold pointed glare at her. A smirk creeping onto your face as she looks down, avoiding your eye line.

"Seeing as it's late, do you wanna make coffee for everyone?" You order her in the form of a question, speaking loudly enough for both her and Namjoon to hear your sassy, obvious tone.

She looks a little stunned. She'd just been promoted to the inner circle for this problem-solving session, and she doesn't seem pleased at being asked to perform menial tasks. Trying to go over your head, she looks at the Alpha for confirmation. But he doesn't give it to her. Instead, you can feel him nod, supporting your order. A full smile filling your face as you get his backing.

"Of course, Luna." she obeys, looking a little dejected.

"Thank you." you shoo her to action with a sing-song voice. Curling into Namjoons side, you can't help but feel authoritative. And a little bit victorious.

King! Seokjin

It had been nearly two weeks since you had seen Jin last. As frustrating as it was, you were genuinely missing him. There was a kind of energy he had when it was just the two of you. Something that filled you, and without him you were feeling like your own spirit was draining away.

It would be okay though, today Jin was coming back from visiting his wife and children. You're sure he missed you just as much as you missed him. That he was as excited to see you, as you were to see him. You were a little worried knowing that you would have to satisfy his sadism first, but you can tolerate it, thinking that at least you'll get to see his smile.

As the day is drawing to an end, you've finished all your tasks but you refuse to retire for the night, certain the King is going to call for you at any minute. Feeling a mix of excitement and relief when the staff manager comes to collect you.

Nearly skipping you rush to the dining hall, having been instructed to serve dinner to the King and his guest. Working with another maid to bring the meals from the kitchen.

Walking in, the smile you were trying to conceal disappears completely. Your stomach dropping. Jin's guest is the Princess. His wife.

You have to control your expression to hide your distress, feeling sick while serving him. His wife never comes down. She hasn't in a year and a half. Jin doesn't even really like her. It doesn't make sense why she's here.

With a curt bow, you remove the closh and place the plate down. Meeting the King's eye for a moment, you do your best to placify your appearance. Your efforts cracking when you see his lips pulling ever so slightly into a knowing smile.

He dismisses the other maid, but not you. Sending you to the waiting station by the wall. You're stuck watching over their conversation. Feeling more and more insecure as you look at the Princess's regality and beauty. Getting more frustrated as your mind runs rampant.

How long is she going to stay? It doesn't seem like they brought the Princes, so she has to go back soon. And what kind of mother leaves her children alone? It doesn't even matter that she's here, you know Jin likes you more. So what if she is really pretty, he can't hurt her like he can you. You make him happy. She's just a prop he was given to secure a treaty. He actually chose you.

Slowly, you're building yourself into a craze. Making yourself feel sad until the very end of the meal. Finally, their dinner date ends and he stands, kindly bowing to see her off. Leaving only you and him in the hall.

Relaxing back in his seat, he finishes the remainder of his drink.

"Y/n." Holding his empty glass to the side, he calls you over. You follow his gesture and top up his cup. Avoiding looking directly at him again. Pacing back to your place when he stops you.

"Come here." He grins, enjoying how uncomfortable you are. "You met my wife today." He pushes the difficult topic, again probing for your reaction.

Nodding softly, you're trying to not let your bitterness out. You know Jin doesn't like it when you pout.

"Are you jealous Princess?" He holds his hand out for you to take, leading you closer to him. Leaning back to create a space for you on his lap. Guiding you over him with your legs spread.

"No, your Majesty." You shake your head, your pause and hesitation giving away the truth.

Jin's gentle touch comes off your hand, his grip instead ripping back your hair, arching your back and nearly yanking you off of his lap. Biting back a shriek, you can't keep entirely quiet, whimpering as his fist curls tighter and closer to your scalp.

"Are you lying to me?" His mouth latches onto your shoulder, biting into your muscle vindictively. Unbridling that scream you had tried to smother.

"Yes. I'm sorry your Majesty!" you cry out, tears building in your eyes. "I'm jealous. I missed you. I want you-" all the truth is pouring out, but you hesitate worried you're being too bold, "all to myself."

His grip comes out of your hair. His hand instead raking down your chest, leaving painful red marks as each nail digs along the skin. Continuing lower, tearing the buttons on your dress. Yanking down your bra also, exposing your breasts. His other hand hikes the fabric up around your thighs, stopping on your waist, lowering your hips into him.

Pinching your nipple, he draws you closer until his lips are just off yours. Gasping through the initial pain, you can only whine and bite your lip to further keep quiet.

"Go on Princess. Prove to me why I should have missed you."

Assassin! Yoongi

Over the past couple of weeks, Yoongi would be gone for days at a time. Coming back in a strangely talkative and happy mood. You were as miserable and depressed as always, but his vigour was somehow revitalizing and comforting. It made him easier to deal with. It made him less moody. And it made your life easier. So to begin with you were very happy that he was happy.

That was until he mentioned a name in passing. A woman's name. Someone he was working with on a project.

As soon as you heard him talking positively about her, a pang of anxiety spiked through your stomach. From then on it rested in your gut, making you irritated, uncomfortable, and flustered every time you heard about or thought about her.

It was the strangest thing. You hated Yoongi, you're sure of it. But he was all you had. And hearing him talk about another woman, even though it sounded platonic, the adoration in his voice was hurting you in a way you never expected.

Slowly you had to work through this feeling on your own. You couldn't bear to let Yoongi know, not certain what he would do with the information that you were, in lack of a better word, jealous.

The more you heard about this woman, you knew you could never be as impressive as her. Every detail sounding equally terrifying and awe-inspiring. To be honest the specifics slipped your mind, as you were mostly wrapped up in self-pity when Yoongi spoke about her.

All you know is that you felt inferior, and you were craving, longing to feel that kind of importance to Yoongi, also. Resenting the fact that this other person was so easily able to bring joy and energy out of him.

Over the next couple of weeks, you spent every waking moment thinking about how to make Yoongi happy. Not just avoiding annoying him, like you usually did, but instead thinking about how to bring him genuine enjoyment.

One time you spent hours making him a meal. Making something you knew he would love. But, unfortunately, he only complained about the mess. He said he wasn't hungry and left you to throw the food away and clean up.

Another time, you had planned a full evening of activities. Movies, snacks, games that would help you get to know each other better, anything fun you could organize with your limited resources. Only, he wasn't in the mood to play, or talk. He only wanted one thing, and when he was done, he left you alone in your room, feeling used and a bit sore.

However, that gave you an idea. Maybe you could connect with him physically first. Then that might give you a way for something, anything more to develop.

This time, you set the house up with candles, music, wine, chocolate strawberries, everything you'd seen in movies. Waiting for him on the couch in something a little provocative. But, as soon as he comes in from the garage he looks more annoyed than impressed. Rolling his eyes, ordering you to your room.

By this stage it's late, you're tired, and you're losing your mind trying to make him happy. You were fighting so hard for his attention, and he was barely tolerating you. You aren't thinking clearly as you snap at him.

"Why?!" You yell, stomping your foot down. "I'm working so hard and you're just being an asshole!"

The words come out and you instantly regret them. His straight expression hardening.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You rush to him, wrapping your arms around his chest trying to soothe any reaction. "Just tell me what I can do." You plead. Exasperated by so many failed attempts.

"That depends. What do you want?" He honestly questions, looking down at you.

You weren't exactly prepared to answer this question. You're not sure you really know.

"I'm your's right?" you say with big eyes, your voice coming out so softly, feeling embarrassed even though you're mimicking his words. "I get that I have to be yours. But then you have to be mine too." Your voice trembles.

Finally, it makes sense to Yoongi. Your change in demeanour, and in behaviour. Why you've been so needy. Why you've been trying to get his attention. He understands now. And that was most of what was annoying him. Not knowing why you were acting differently.

He steps out of your grasp, calling for you to follow him upstairs. You're not so nervous as you do. Surprisingly, the revelation has given Yoongi has a warm smile.

Falling back onto his bed, he taps the space beside him, inviting you to join him. You climb into the middle of the bed, resting in the place he set for you, his arm laid out under your head. He curls into you, gently wrapping his arm over your waist. Hugging you.

For the first time ever, he is showing you some kind of affection. For the first time, he's actually making a gesture of warmth and comfort. You couldn't even let yourself think that Yoongi could be capable of this. Having spent so many months isolated and alone. Even when you weren't locked up.

Hating yourself for not being stronger, you break into silent tears. Biting your thumb to stifle any sobs.

While reason is battling in your head, telling you that it's a bad idea to form any kind of emotional attachment to him, you don't want to listen to logic right now. Letting yourself cling to Yoongi and the desperately needed human connection.

Vampire! Hoseok

There was a delicate balance to your relationship with Hoseok. You couldn't exactly rely on his moods to be stable, but you could rely on his obsession with you. It was the only thing that kept you feeling secure. Feeling certain that when he bit you next he wouldn't let you bleed out. Or that when he hit you or cut you or hurt you, that he wasn't going to leave you to suffer in agony but would heal you. Because he wanted to keep you. You were his.

It was a twisted kind of reassurance. But it's what you had, so it's what you worked with.

You knew the source of his obsession. It was you as a person, sure. But you weren't kidding yourself. Mostly, his infatuation was with your blood. Hoseok wasn't specific about it, but you had overheard some of the other Vampires discussing you. Apparently, you smell delicious, and that's why he never lets you wander the house with any cuts. That's why you were locked away every 28 days. And that's why you were his only.

It didn't make sense to you, there was nothing different about you.

But somehow you'd fallen in and become the star of your very own YA horror story.

Whatever the cause though, you were aware that Hoseok's addiction to your blood was the reason that he kept you. Without that, he might simply kill you, or worse, he might throw you to one of the other bloodsuckers who look at you like a happy meal they want to fuck.

Which is probably why you were so defensive when you saw him biting another girl.

Sitting on the back terrace looking over the gated property, Hoseok and a few of his creations were sitting in the moonlight enjoying a drink. You'd come downstairs expecting to be his refill when you see him sinking his fangs into the arm of one of the human pets.

Frustration floods through your body, a new kind of anger making your hands shake. A malicious and honestly, not-all-together thought out idea springs into your head. You've never seen him drink from anyone else before, and you need to remind him that he should only want you.

Taking a serrated peeler from the bar at the side of the terrace, you hold it concealed in your palm, going up to the first Vampire leaning there.

"Are you thirsty?" you ask, speaking lowly. He, like all the others, know you're Hoseok's, and so he rightfully looks uncomfortable being near you. Stepping into his personal space, you raise your arm under his chin and run the sharp blade across the top of your forearm. His eyes immediately going black, his fangs bared. Unable to resist what you're offering.

Behind you, every single one of them turns their heads, smelling you the second blood gathers on your skin.

In a flash, Hoseok is between the two of you. Ripping his teeth into the guy's neck, tearing his throat out. Killing him in an instant.

Breathing heavily, he turns to you with blood washed down his front. His eyes murderous and cold.

Retaliating, you storm towards the human-pet and shove her with all of your might, pushing her down the stone tile steps onto the grass. Watching her tumble into a heap.

Those around you have gone dead quiet, none of them even daring to look directly at either of you.

"How dare you?" He seethes, stalking towards you. But you're not backing down. You know better than to retreat from him when he charges.

"How dare I?" you scream. "How dare you drink from that skank!" An enraged Hoseok is something all of his offspring know to fear. Steadily you can see them clearing the space around the two of you. Withdrawing from whatever this is leading to.

"You want to tell me who I can eat?!" He growls, his hand shooting around your neck, holding you but not choking you. "You're a blood bag that I keep as a toy!"

"If that's all, then I'll let all of them feed on me too."

His hand constricts, restricting your air. "I'll kill anyone that tries."

"Then," you gasp, your words coming out short. "only me." you pull your hair off your shoulder, turning your neck as far to the side as you can. Throwing his head back, he takes the invitation, sinking his fangs into your jugular, swallowing down mouthfuls of your blood.

Holding onto his shoulders, you jump up wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing yourself closer to his mouth. Hoseok's arms wrapping around your ass, keeping you up.

Pushed back by your momentum, he stumbles a few steps, dropping down onto the open sofa chair. You landing on his lap, straddling his thighs.

As more of your blood is drained, and you get lightheaded, the pain starts to slip and your body starts to float. A euphoric sensation, akin to being high consuming you.

You tangle your hands up into his hair tugging it, massaging his scalp. You've become so accustomed to him fucking you when he feeds from you, that whenever he bites you, you get turned on. Your body reacting out of instinct. Slowly grinding down, rocking your hips into him as you start to get him hard. The friction feeling good making you moan. Making you move faster with pleasure tingling through your core also.

"Hobi," you moan. Shivering, as his tongue runs up your wounds.

Your gentle whine catches his attention. A surprised expression on his face that shifts into a smile as he leans back to watch you. His focus on you making you feel slightly embarrassed, slowing your motions until they stop altogether.

Biting his tongue, your eyes meet for a moment before he kisses his blood into your mouth, the copper taste feeling soothing and familiar. Your body relaxing completely knowing you'll wake up healed.

"Mine." He whispers into your lips.

The blood loss pulls you into unconsciousness, your head dropping onto his shoulder. The euphoric feeling swallowing you up as you purr back. "Mine."

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rinarecommends · 4 years ago

Text

Affliction

Here’s my contribution to the Villain AU bnharem collab! You can find the other submissions here!

I hope you enjoy!

Affliction (n): something that causes pain or suffering:

“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

You stared at the TV and continued staring at it, even as the breaking news passed and regular scheduled tv resumed. When did it all go wrong? It seemed like just yesterday, you dreamt of working with heroes, helping to make the world safe, but it had been 2 years since you abandoned those aspirations, for love, or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Dumbass, I’m home.” You heard a familiar voice echo through the apartment, but you didn’t say anything, too lost in your thoughts.

“Y/N? Are you home?” You heard him ask, but your brain couldn’t process the words to reply, to tell him yes, you were home, where he should have been hours ago instead of out destroying the city with the league of villains.

You heard his footsteps getting closer, but the sound of them faded as your thoughts raced to figure out when it all started, when everything went wrong.

You met Katsuki Bakugou during your first year at UA. You were a first year student, but you weren’t in his class, instead you were in the support course. Each kid in first year support was paired up with a first year hero student, to be their support tech throughout the duration of their stay at UA. You were lucky enough to be paired with him. He was everything you thought a hero should be. He was strong, brave, and he had a good heart, even if most people couldn’t see it because of his rough exterior, loud disposition, and ego, but you could, you had always been good at reading people. The first time he actually acknowledged your existence was after the sports festival.

You remember it like it was yesterday. You were in your little corner of the support lab, tinkering with a gadget you had designed for a project that PowerLoader had assigned to you.

You heard the door slide open, roughly, but you didn’t pay it any mind, support kids were sometimes rough, especially if they were deep in thought about a gadget or design they were working on.

“I’m looking for an extra named L/N. Where are they?” You snapped your eyes up at that, met with a sight of wild blonde hair and a lean, muscled physique in a UA uniform. The person closest to the door gaped at him and just pointed in your direction, making him snap his eyes, landing his sight on you. You gave him a short wave, indicating that you were the person that he was looking for, for whatever reason.

“You’re supposed to be my support tech while I’m at UA. I need modifications and shit to make me stronger. I don’t want anymore wins handed to me the way the fucking sports festival was. I’m aiming to be the undeniable number one. If you can’t do that, tell me and I’ll find someone who can, get it?” His voice was sharp with an edge to it, and you realized that this was a pivotal moment, in what would become of whatever relationship you would have with this boy. He was essentially telling you that he was going to be number one, and you had to be number one as well. If you couldn’t, he’d find someone who could. Were you the best? No. Did you want to be the best? Yes. Your answer to him was simple.

You smiled at him and said, “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.” His answer was a grin that showed his pointy teeth and spread across his face. If only you had known what was coming. “Y/N? Why are you crying?” Katsuki’s voice snapped you out of your memories and suddenly you were aware that he was shaking you. You gasped and snapped your eyes towards his, meeting his ruby red eyes.

“I wasn’t aware that I was crying.” You muttered out, wiping your eyes, finding them wet, indicating that you were actually crying. He looked at you.

“You weren’t aware? Can you at least give me a reason as to why you would be crying?” He sat down beside you, pulling you into his lap. You breathed in his scent, something that used to calm you, but it just made your chest feel heavy, with the strong smell of nitroglycerin from his quirk and the dirt and flecks of blood, that probably wasn’t his, from the destruction that he’d caused somewhere in the city.

“Katsuki.” You said his name. He hummed in acknowledgement, his face had made its way into the crook of your neck, peppering kisses there, showing you affection. “How did we get here?” You voiced the question that had been wracking your brain for so long, something that you asked yourself so many times but never found an answer that you were satisfied with.

He grunted. “What are you talking about babe?”

“How did we go from wanting to save the world, to destroying it? How did we get here?” You asked softly, trying your best not to anger him. His temper was shorter these days, even shorter than back at UA. He’d never laid a hand on you, but you weren’t really sure what he was capable of these days. You weren’t even sure who he was. He looked like your Katsuki, but that was where the similarities to the boy you fell in love with ended, except for the small moments when he made love to you or showed you affection.

“Y/N.” He said in a warning tone. He didn’t like talking about this. He had never given you a straight answer, never gave you a reason. He only asked you to follow him one day, to walk away from Support Course and UA, and you did because you loved him, more than anything. You sighed, not letting it go, even though that’s probably what he thought you were doing, but you wanted to choose your next words, your next step, carefully.

Katsuki Bakugou, you had discovered while working on his equipment, was everything people had said he was, but he was also nothing like they said he was, at the same time. He was loud. He was Vulgar. He had an Ego. He was hot, but he was also kind, in his own way. He was brave. He was determined. He was smart, a genius really. You could tell he was softer than he let on. In the months since he slammed into the Support lab, you had gotten to know him, and he had shown you his kind side, in private, and in public. He had brought out parts of you that you hadn’t known existed. He made you feel things. He made you want to be better so that you could always stay by his side because you knew he was going to do great things. He made your stomach flutter with butterflies. He made your skin burn when he touched you or grazed you. He made your heart race when he came into the room sweaty after a workout with Kirishima. You liked him. You really liked him.

“So. When are you going to let me take you out on a date, or are we just going to keep up with the glances and flirting?” He grunted out while sitting beside you on your workbench, as you were working on modifying his gauntlets. You froze for a second before snapping your eyes to him, dropping whatever was in your hand. You just gave him a look before smiling softly.

“I thought you’d never ask.” you stated, going back to work on the task at hand.

“That doesn’t answer my damn question, dumbass.” He snapped, but all you did was giggle at him, making him snort.

“I’ve wracked my brain the past two years, wondering why we were doing this, why were we leaving everything behind, everything we believed in, to destroy things we were training to protect. I can’t find an answer that satisfies me. I don’t understand what could have made the boy I fell in love with decide that he wanted to destroy hero society instead of be the #1 Hero.” He pushed you off of his lap, landing you on the couch where you were before he pulled you onto his lap. He sighed in frustration pulling at his hair.

“Why does it matter so much? You’re the one who agreed to come with me, you’re the one who followed me because I asked you too. I love you, is that not enough?” He hissed out at you, you flinched because he’d never taken a tone like this with you, but his face softened when he saw you flinch at his voice.

“The league just gave me reasons to destroy hero society as it is and rebuild it, that’s all. The heroes you know, we know, aren’t good people at all. Endeavor abuses his kids and wife, why do you think Todoroki was so emotionally fucking constipated when we were in school with him? Best Jeanist is more worried about appearances as a hero than actual hero work. I could go on, but I just, I just can’t be a hero in the society as it is today, if things were different, then maybe we’d still be at UA, or even graduated, but this is the world we were given, Y/N. This is what’s right. Why can’t you see that?” He had gotten on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands to hold as he said this. You let his words sink in. He had finally given you an answer, albeit a very vague one, but it was progress, right? Sadly, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t satisfy you to the point where you felt comfortable continuing to build him gadgets to help destroy hero society and the city. It didn’t show you a glimpse, a sliver, of the boy you used to know. All you saw was someone that you loved, without a doubt you loved him, but you didn’t know him at all. Shigaraki and his goons had twisted him somehow.

“I followed you because I love you, but you’re hurting people Katsuki. INNOCENT PEOPLE. The boy I love, the one that was determined to win and be the best hero there is, may have been temperamental, egotistical, but he NEVER hurt innocent people. I can’t continue to make equipment for you that’s going to be used for demolition of the city and innocent people’s suffering. Everytime I look at the news, I see more chaos, more destruction, and my heart hurts a little bit more, and I feel a little more guilty. It’s eating me up inside, that I’ve helped you for the last 2 years, but unlike you, baby, I don’t want to lose who I was completely. I love you, I really do -”

“Are you leaving me?” He breathed out, as if the concept of losing you struck a chord within him, as if it was something he was scared of, but you were scared too. Who were you without Katsuki Bakugou? What position did you play in this world if it wasn’t by his side?

“I -” He cut you off again, not allowing you to answer his previous question.

“Do you remember when I told you I loved you for the first time?” He asked looking at you, deep into your eyes, as if he was looking at your soul. What kind of question was that? Of course you remembered, it was one of the greatest days of your life, one of the best feelings in the world was knowing you were loved by Katsuki Bakugou.

You nodded.

You looked up at the sky, watching the fireworks glitter in the sky. The hues of colors make your heart soar. You felt Katsuki grab your hand and squeeze, making you turn away from the show to him.

“I have something I want to tell you.” He muttered, just loud enough for you to hear him. You smiled at him and nodded indicating you were listening, but he didn’t say anything else. You quirked your brow up at him, but he wouldn’t meet your gaze, so you turned back towards the show in the sky.

“I love you.” You heard him say making your heart stop, snapping your eyes back to him, away from the show once again. You opened and closed your mouth, repeatedly, not expecting that he’d be the first to say it. You loved him, more than anything, but you had been scared to tell him because you didn’t want to ruin the relationship since it had only been 5 months of dating. You knew Katsuki was slower on the uptake with feelings, especially his own, so you kept quiet for the time being, loving him in silence, but here he was confessing his love to you.

“I know I’m not the best at this relationship thing, but you’re the only person that’s ever made me feel something besides anger. You don’t look down on me because of my attitude, and you don’t put me on a pedestal because of my quirk. You just let me be myself- “ you go to say something, but he holds his hand up, indicating for you to be quiet.

“When you smile at me, you make my heart stop. Your laugh makes me get those cringy bullshit butterflies in my stomach, and you’re so smart, possibly the smartest person I know. It’s like you complete me, make me want to do better, to be better, as if I wasn’t already aiming to be the best. All of these things and so many more make me love you. I love you, Y/N.” He took in a breath as he finished his monologue, but you didn’t let him get a good enough breath before your lips were moving against his in a slow, passionate kiss, showing him that you loved him too, before you told him. He grabbed you by your hips, pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss, making your toes curl. They say when you kiss someone, you feel sparks if it’s a right fit, but with Katsuki you feel like a live wire, full of energy and alive. You felt tingles down your back. His kiss was like another form of breathing, you don’t know if you’d ever be able to survive without it again.

“I love you too, so much.” You breathed to him as you pulled away. He smiled softly, an expression that he reserved solely for you and kissed you again. A simple peck

“Yeah?” He said, lips grazing yours, in an almost kiss. You beamed and nodded, bringing him into another slow, passionate kiss.

“How could I ever forget that?” You muttered to him.

“I still feel the same. I still love you. You’re still the only one who makes me feel alive, still the only person that’s ever given me shitty butterflies. You;re the only light I have left in my life, Y/N. If you leave me, what’s the point in trying to make the world better? I don’t give a fuck about anyone else in this city, besides you. I’d burn the city to the ground if someone told me that was the only way to make sure you were safe. I’d kill, steal, and destroy for you, nobody else, just you. Fuck Shigaraki. Fuck Dabi. Fuck Twice. Fuck all of them. I didn’t join the league because of them, I did it because I want the world to be a better place for you, a place worthy of your existence.” He was on his feet again, pacing, pulling at his hair. It was if he was in a frenzy of, dare you say it, psychotic rambling. Words about how much he loved you and what he would do for you kept pouring out, but they didn’t do anything but make you sadder, hurt you more.

“Stop.” You whispered, but he obviously didn’t hear you because he kept going on and on.

“Stop.” You said a little louder, still not getting a response from him.

“Fucking STOP KATSUKI.” You yelled, your emotions finally getting to you. Tears poured down your face like streams of water. He stopped, turning to you instantly at your yell.

“Just stop.” You said, “I don’t know what has made you think that this world is not worthy of my existence, but you’re wrong. I am fine with this world the way that it is. It has its flaws, but every society does, nothing is perfect, no one is perfect. I don’t want you to do anything for me, not kill people, not burn a city down, none of this should be done for my sake, don’t blame these actions on me. I can’t watch you do this anymore. I love you more than anything, and it used to be my favorite thing to do, love you, but it just brings me sadness and pain now. It hurts to love you, for who you are now, because this isn’t you, this can’t be you, can’t be MY Katsuki. My Katsuki was a hero, is a hero. He wants to win, wants to be the best. I tried to accept you being a villain, because not all villains are bad people, just in bad circumstances, but this is too much, you are too much, loving you is too much. It’s like an affliction in my heart, and I just can’t do it anymore.

Tears were running down his face and he fell to his knees.

“If I don’t have you, what do I have? Please…. Don’t leave me baby. We can figure this out. I can stop. We can be heroes if that’s what you want. Just don’t go. Stay. With me.” He breathed out, voice barely audible, only loud enough for you, and you alone, to hear. You thought about it. You didn’t want to leave him, that was the last thing you wanted, but after seeing what you have seen, could you stay?

You stood in the middle of the crowd, watching All Might’s last fight as the #1 hero, except you wouldn’t know it was his last until he uttered the words “now, it’s your turn.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You heard the gruffness of his voice before you saw him, spinning around to see him beat up, bruised, but alive, he was alive, that’s all that mattered to you in that moment. You had told yourself that you weren’t going to cry. Katsuki didn’t like it when you cried, but the sobs took over as soon as you got a good look at him. He grabbed you and pulled you into his chest, consoling you, reassuring you that everything was okay, that he was okay, that you were back together with each other again and you’d never have to be without him again.

“I thought you were going to die, I thought I was going to lose you, Suki. I can’t lose you… I just can’t.” You said wiping your tears furiously, trying to get yourself together for him. He grabbed your hands from wiping your face and pulled you towards him again, this time you felt a soft peck on your forehead.

“I’m here.” He said to you. You nodded at him, looking up into his eyes, pools of ruby that you loved so much, that you didn’t think you could live without. Maybe if you had looked closer, you would have noticed the dullness that had started to take over the sparkle, maybe you could have changed the course of what was to come.

It happened three days later. You were decorating the dorm that you had to move into with the rest of the support course, following Katsuki’s abduction. You turned your head when someone knocked on the wall beside your door, since your door was open as you were decorating. You were surprised to see Katsuki standing there, in civilian clothes.

“Hey babe. What’s up? Need some repairs already?” You teased him, but he didn’t smile, didn’t snort, didn’t make a comment about how he only needed so many repairs because he was the best.

He walked into your room and shut the door.

“I’m leaving UA.” He muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he said.

“What are you talking about?” You said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why would he leave his dream school? Did he want to go to another Hero School? Did he not feel safe at UA anymore?

“The league made me an offer. I’ve decided that I’m going to take it.” Your world halted at those words. What kind of offer could the league have made to make him quit his dreams of being the #1 hero? What could they have said to make him join their cause?

“The league… made you an offer?” you replied to him slowly, hoping that this was a weird daydream, a walking nightmare. He just nodded.

“What kind of offer?” You asked him. The only answer he gave you was a shake of his head, a muttered “it’s not important.” It was important though. What did this mean for his dreams? What did this mean for your dreams that involved him? What did this mean for the two of you as a whole?

“I want you to come with me. I don’t want to be without you, and I’ll need repairs for the things I’m going to do.” He said after a pause in the conversation. You looked at him. What could you say? You had always wanted to build support items. You wanted to make tools to better the world, until you met him. He became your dreams, your aspirations. You wanted to make things for Katsuki, for him only. You wanted to propel his dreams of being the best, to make them a reality. If this was what he wanted to do, if this was what he had chosen, there had to be a reason, a good reason. You trusted him. You loved him.

You nodded.

“When do we leave?”

“I can’t stay, Katsuki.” You said, tears rolling down your face, continuously, no matter how much you tried to make them stop.

You headed towards the room that you two shared in the rundown one-room apartment that he paid for, somehow. You grabbed your bag and packed the few things that you had accumulated in the two years that you guys had been hiding out from everyone. You had somehow never been found, even though you and him were declared missing, even though you were in plain sight. Katsuki had dyed his hair black, gotten some tattoos, some piercings, so that nobody would recognize him. You had dyed your hair as well. You wanted tattoos, but you were too afraid of the pain.

“How can I fix this?” He asked, watching you pack, taking things out of your bag as you put them in. You sighed and stopped to look at him.

“I don’t know if you can fix this, Katsuki. This is never what I pictured our life together would be like. This isn’t what I wanted. It’s not what I thought you wanted, and I just… can’t do it anymore. I’m tired of hiding, tired of chaos and destruction. Hero society may have some corrupt heroes, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t good heroes, worthy heroes. It doesn’t mean you couldn’t have been different, changed it by being the change.”

A tear slipped down his cheek. His eyes pleading with you, almost making you want to stop packing, to stay, to just keep helping him because you love him, but you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t. This was the right thing to do. You were being a hero, in your own way.

You zipped up your bag, fully packed with all of your stuff. You looked at him, taking him in. This was the love of your life. You’d never love someone else the way that you loved Katsuki Bakugou. You loved him fully, wholly, deeply, intensely. It was an all consuming love. The kind of love that some people never got to experience in their life, and you were walking away. You had to walk away.

“I love you, Katsuki Bakugou.” You said as you turned around and walked out of the apartment, out of his sight, out of his life.

*2 Months Later*

It had taken 2 weeks for Katsuki to stop calling you multiple times a day. 3 weeks for him to stop calling you every day. One month to stop calling you every other day. A month and a half to stop calling at all. Your phone hadn’t had his name across your screen in 2 weeks. You wondered if he was okay. Had he been eating? Sleeping? Had he been hurt? If so, was it because you weren’t there to make repairs for him?

You had returned home, to your parents. They had stared at you when you showed up on their doorstep, as if they didn’t believe that it was really you, after 2 long years. They had hugged you for what felt like an hour as they pulled you into the house you had grown up in. They hadn’t asked you any questions, maybe they didn’t want to know. The police had come around a couple days after your return, asking questions, but you didn’t give them anything. You wouldn’t tell them that the villain who’d been causing mayhem was Katsuki. You wouldn’t rat him out, you couldn’t. You left him, but you didn’t want to see him in jail, you still had hope that there was something in there, something that still knew the values of heroism, that wanted to be the best. You had told them that you and Katsuki had broken up, but you wouldn’t tell them where you had been, what you had been doing. You just wanted it to be over, to try and make up for the wrong you had done, to repent for your actions.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on your parents’ couch in the living room, sifting through papers to get certified to work in the support field, thankfully there was a certification program that was similar to having graduated from a support course in a hero school. It wasn’t UA, but it was something. Your parents weren’t home, so you were left to your own devices. You had the TV on for background noise, you weren’t even sure what channel was on, focusing on what you needed to complete to get into the certification program.

“Breaking News: The League of Villains has been taken down. A raid on their current hideout occurred this morning, with heroes apprehending all members, including Tomura Shigaraki. The raid was able to occur because of inside information given to the police.

Two years ago, Katsuki Bakugou, then a student of UA went missing along with his girlfriend and support course student, Y/N L/N. It turns out that he left UA, taking Y/N with him for support, and joined the league, having been convinced what they were doing was right, but 2 weeks ago, he turned himself in, told the cops everything that he had done, everything that the league had planned. In return for this invaluable information, he got a reduced sentence of 3 months in a correctional facility, followed with Community Service for 8 months. He also will be able to apply for a Hero License in 3 years, if he wants, as long as he has good behavior throughout the 3 years until that point. Concerning Y/N L/N, he hasn’t indicated that she had anything to do with this, and there is no proof that she committed any crimes.

Today was a win for heroes and civilians alike. After the seemingly endlessly high crime rate, society may actually see a drop now that the league has been detained and headed to Tartarus.

Following this raid, there will also be an investigation into hero society, due to information on certain heroes, like Endeavor, that has been revealed. Heroes are not above the law, they are just like everyone else.

More information will be given when there is more to add.”

You stared at the TV, eyes wide. Katsuki… had turned himself in? You looked at the mug shot they showed of him, when he turned himself in. Black Hair. Tattoos. Piercings. Sparkling Ruby Red Eyes, as if a light had been reignited into them. Was this because of you leaving? You were inclined to think so, at least in part, and the thought of Katsuki being in a facility, broke your heart, but it also mended it. At least he wasn’t hurting innocent people anymore. At least he had done what was right, in the end.

You leaned back into the couch, heaving a sigh. You felt as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, leaving him had alleviated it some, but this, this news made you feel like you could breathe again.

Your phone vibrated beside you, you answered it, not looking at the screen, assuming it was your parents or one of the few UA classmates who you had met up with when you returned, surely they had seen the news, some may have even been in the raid.

You put the phone to your ear.

“He -” You started but you were interrupted by an automated voice that began talking.

“This is a collect call from inmate Katsuki Bakugou at Shizuoka Correctional Facility. If you would like to accept the call and charges that apply, please press 1. Fees will accumulate for every minute over 15 that the call lasts. If you want to deny the call, please press 2.”

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blouisparadise · 3 years ago

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Here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where one or both of the boys is a wolf. This includes werewolf fics and A/B/O fics where they transform into wolves. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to reblog this post to help spread the word.

Happy reading!

1) New York's Beauty | Mature | 5274 words

Prompt 104: AU where Harry is an alpha wolf and Louis is a hybrid kitten. They were roommates. While they were arguing about something stupid, Harry wanted to bend Louis over the kitchen table and knot him right there. He slowly accepted his feelings and extreme desire for Louis, so he started to tease the hybrid until he would beg Harry to fuck him. They fall in love.

2) Just Like The Wolf Before He Bites | Explicit | 11096 words

He’s loud, Louis is, and that’s far from unusual for him, but the volume of it still has Harry pulling back the curtain. There’s a half-formed thought in the back of his brain about telling Louis off, because it’s fucking half three in the morning, but then.

But then Harry’s eyes get stuck on the soft glint of Louis’ stubble in the light, and he’s making his way across the room before he even realizes it.

Louis, for his part, just tips his chin up to give Harry space and keeps talking, waving the joint in his hand around for emphasis. He doesn’t even bother to greet Harry, going on with his story to his semi-rapt audience, just settles a hand in between Harry’s shoulder blades and pushes him down firmly.

Harry just. Relaxes. His eyes slip closed, pushing his entire face into that spot underneath Louis’ chin, where his hair is still growing, neat and prickly. The scent of Louis’ cologne drifts into Harry’s nose, light and fresh, and it’s calming. Comforting. His breathing syncs up with Louis’ quickly, and Harry feels so much better than he had five minutes ago he almost wants to cry.

3) I Would Follow You (To the Moon and Back) | Explicit | 20355 words

Everyone has baggage, some people sleepwalk, some have obsessive exes, and others turn into anthropomorphic wolf-like monsters that destroy furniture and run rampant in the forest. Perfectly normal.

4) Break Open The Sky | Explicit | 20372 words

Note: Mentions of BH.

Werewolf AU. Harry might be a werewolf, but he still wants to experience Uni like everyone else. Turns out he learns a lot.

5) Out Of The Wild | Explicit | 21502 words

Louis has spent most of his life as a wolf in the wild, Harry has spent most of his life as a human in the city. Their worlds collide during the audition process for the hottest new singing competition. What happens next should have expected.

6) Falling Into Your Gravity | Explicit | 28933 words

The Doncaster tribe has suffered from the increasing attacks of the rogue werewolves for months now and finally their pleas have been answered. The Government has sent them enforcements in the form of a family of high standing, the Styles, whose babelicious son turns a certain omega’s world upside down. Poor Louis is just trying to get people believe he’s a beta as his family’s life depends on it.

7) Compete Against The Stars | Mature | 30890 words

An ABO AU where Louis finds out he's claimed to another Alpha. Angst ensues.

8) Canyon Moon | Explicit | 40895 words

For as long as Louis has remembered, he has been promised to be mated to Harry, his best friend and the future pack alpha. But Louis’s heart belonged to the forest and to the hunt more than he could ever imagine it belonging to Harry.

Then Harry’s father dies in a violent accident, and Louis’s future alpha disappears on the wind.

9) I'm On the Hunt Now (I'm After You) | Mature | 56418 words

Omegas haven’t been able to shift into their wolves for two hundred years. That is, until Louis Tomlinson changes everything.

10) Bite Me | Explicit | 93222 words | Sequel

Being groomed for alpha was hard enough. Now, mix in moving to a completely different location and losing three of his pack's omegas to outsiders, and you've got a disaster. Or, so it was in Harry's eyes. He was told not to worry; they weren't his omegas and he wasn't the alpha yet. But he did worry. Their pack was under attack and he had no idea why, and when he found a suitable mate, the problems that his stepdad faced would be his.

11) Among The Humans | Explicit | 129435 words

A gothic, modern day vampire romance between a young human named Louis Tomlinson, and Harry Styles, ancient vampire and gentleman.

Creatures of the night come with more trouble than they wish to make it seem.

12) You Smell Like | Mature | 185369 words

The one where Louis is the Alpha’s mate and everyone is aware of it except for Louis and Harry. Go figure!

13) Cold Little Heart | Teen & Up | 194780 words

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child. A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham. Louis really could use the help.

14) Only You Can Be My Alpha | Explicit | 196073 words

The one where Louis is banished from his tribe, and lands himself in Harry's instead. The alluring Pack Alpha makes Louis question his nature and he doesn't know how he feels about that. But you can't fight destiny.

15) Queen of Arizella | Mature | 277919 words

Stealing from Royalty is punishable by death.

Louis starts over, doing his best to keep his hands at his sides but he is hungry and he tries stealing from the wrong Royal.

Harry is King of Arizella, he needs a Queen and who better than an omega on the run from death? Louis will learn to become the perfect Queen -the perfect fake Queen, but only for a few months.

A fake lover, a fake Queen, but a real bond.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#bottom louis #top harry #werewolf au #teen wolf au #a/b/o #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp

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romanceimp · 4 years ago

Text

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back…

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have.

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile.

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro.

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die.

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue.

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio.

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror.

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection.

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved.

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up.

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?”

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed? His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

“Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly.

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool.

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself. You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door.

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful.

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go. “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?”

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change.

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you.

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes.

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?”

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.”

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago.

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.”

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.”

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.”

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties.

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water.

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours.

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire.

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan.

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.”

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock.

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move.

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.”

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls.

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same.

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively.

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!”

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die.

You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms.

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole. This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor.

#mirio #mirio togata #mirio smut #bnha #mha #bnha mirio #villain mirio #bnharem collab #bnharem #villain au

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delldarling · 4 years ago

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the city is hoarding hearts | arroven

male dragon x gender/body neutral reader 9015 words lemon | mention of drinking alcohol, face riding, size difference, fairly submissive monster, penetrative sex, poetry, touch starved note: behold! my modern epic fantasy universe! this world first appeared back in August for my Patreon Story of the Month, and though I haven’t revisited Arroven again just yet, I did return to this universe for December’s Story of the Month as well. 👀

Magic, despite people's claim to the contrary, is beyond rare these days. No one really claims that it isn’t real, that it didn’t once run rampant with it’s existence. After all, it’s impossible to deny when people have things like the architecture of the North to reference. The towers built into their seaside cliffs, spiraling up like the serpents of old reaching for the sun? Without magic, without gravity spells, and an everlasting charm on those spells, thick enough to double as a coat of paint, the towers would have fallen into the sea by now, dashed against the dark stones jutting out from the deep green waters. Many people, though especially the elves, think that the towers will endure long after the cliffs have crumbled into the water. Floating relics, you’ve heard more than a few people murmur, wonder in their voices, wouldn’t that be something?

Even more common now, there are people the world over that claim they have a spark of magic left still, that they can feel the rhythms of the magical tide flooding back over the world.

She Wakes is written on street corners and thick posters, spray painted on the underside of the colossal Echo Bridge. No matter how often they have workers doing their best to clean the graffiti up, the giant letters are back in place a few days later.

Despite how much you’d like to believe them, as everyone dreams of the rumors, of magic returning, you’ve never put too much stock into the whispered words. Why would you? No matter how often you’ve spent watching wispy clouds streak by your window, no matter how often you’ve taken a moment to reflect on the thought, to nurse a seed of hope… Nothing has ever come of it.

It’s why you keep trying to ignore that heavy ache in the arch of your feet, or the way you keep noticing advertisements for Arroven.

History books and the elderly all say that this is how it starts when magic finally blooms in someone’s blood. There’s an itch. An ache. A constant irritant that starts in your extremities and wriggles into your veins, and then coincidences will start to pile up. Small things, like noticing whenever the clock strikes 11:11 on whatever clock you pass. Or maybe it’s having the luck to switch the radio station to your favorite song without fail, or—

“Stop it,” you mutter to yourself when you spot it. You breath puffs out into the chilly air, adding to the fog lingering in the streets. You kneel, brushing aside some of the fallen damask leaves, their velvety backs clinging to your touch even as you do your best to shake them off. Just barely hidden under their litter is a postcard. Without even glancing at it, you know what you’ll find on the back, but you’re drawn to pick it up anyway, turning it over. It depicts a sprawling city with green undertones, the word Arroven written in a sloping, beautiful script along the bottom of the image. The edges are creased, almost lovingly, and there’s a small puncture hole at the top left corner, as if someone had it pinned to a corkboard for no short amount of time.

Until this moment, you haven’t picked up any of the advertisements for Arroven. The stories all say that you can ignore it, that the magic will go away and fade from you like an ebbing tide if you only will it hard enough, but… You don’t know that you really want it to leave. Those seeds have hope might not have fully sprouted, but their roots have run deep, snaking through your veins. You swallow past the dryness in your throat and turn the postcard over, wonder if you’re going to get an address, or if there are words of encouragement intended for the last owner.

The postcard is faintly yellowed at the edges, but it’s otherwise blank.

You wilt, disappointed, but you don’t throw it back down onto the stones. If you check the railway listings, you’re more than certain that you’ll find a one way trip to Arroven suddenly dirt cheap. The pathway that will lead you there is probably paved with strangely good fortune, more invisible hooks ready to find a secure hold in your heart. You might as well find out if there’s anything to these claims of magic. You have far too much hope shored up in your bones and pumping through your chest not to at least try.

A month later, and you’re starting to believe that whatever magic that led you this far has all but fled. Of course, you’re more than content with where it’s left you, a word rattling around in the back of your brain and clamoring to spill from your lips: home. Arroven feels like home.

It’s not just the city though. It’s your place. It’s the stones that pave the streets and the people that fill them. It’s the smell of bakeries and the faint hint of exhaust. It’s the clean smell of paper and ink from the stationary shop you’d stumbled into on your first night in Arroven, and the proprietor’s barely-there smile. You’d made fast friends with her almost instantly, like it was fate.

Mora, despite her solemn stature, and the vast amount of spiraling tattoos disappearing under the neck of her cleanly pressed shirts, is beyond kind. She possesses a startling, sparkling wit that leaves a smile lingering on your lips whenever you think of her snappy little comments. She’d given you a job in her shop a few days after you’d first arrived, perking up as soon as you’d come back into her shop. She needed a cashier, so she could have more time to develop her own inks, and then a few days after that you literally stumbled onto a showing of a furnished apartment. It had fit all of your needs, and your shoes had sunk into the plush carpet of the bedroom, like a quiet voice in the place asking you to stay.

The ache in your feet had eased, that strange little irritant in the back of your mind fading with every passing day. You haven’t put too much thought into magic since then, as there hasn’t been a reason when you have a new job to keep you busy, and a city to explore on your days off. You love it here, the sea green patina on the copper statues, the swirling architecture that extends to every building in the city, no matter how large or small. Besides, you know if you go looking into magic again, at the message boards or if you go hunting down books, it’s likely that they’ll all say much the same thing: She Wakes, and her gift will blossom in you, but not Forever. She moves us like pawns, adjusting us Just So, no matter how small the slot She needs filled.

You’ve read it all before, have heard debates shouted in the streets or argued about in the back corner of classrooms. Magic moves through people as it wills, and no amount of pleading will keep it in you unless you’re a mage, and even then, that takes years of study. If the magic that led you here only existed long enough for you to make your home? Then you’ll have to be satisfied with that.

And you are, until that ache in your feet starts up again.

Late one evening, as you’re locking the back door of Rumoura’s, it floods through you fast enough to steal your breath. There’s no voice, no heavy hand on your shoulder, just a fierce pain that wells, threatening to bring tears to your eyes, until you turn to the right. You blink, surprise at the sudden and complete lack of pain, and take a ragged breath as you pocket the key to the door. When you feel steady enough, when your lungs no longer ache, you turn to the right and start walking.It takes you about ten minutes to realize you’re headed towards the main park, the one with ancient ruins of a half finished serpent tower peppered throughout its boundaries. You’ve walked through once, one golden afternoon with Mora, and you’ve been meaning to come back sometime on your lunch break. The past few days have been busy though, with a flood of students coming back to Arroven, stocking up on both casual and serious supplies from Mora’s shop.

Besides, there’s always been time to explore at your leisure now that you’re living here.

Two towering trees make a grand arch over the park entrance, and the slow swirl of damask leaves spiraling down from the branches make you laugh.

“Coincidence,” you murmur, a small smile curling your lips, and you walk into the park. The paths are well lit, even this late in the evening. This part of the city doesn’t boast about it’s lack of crime, but most people feel it. There always seems to be groups of people roaming: Elven tourists, hooking arms and laughing over cups of tea and coffee, Orcish artists and musicians, setting up on benches or street corners, busking for the simple sake of sharing their art with others. You wander through the park, expecting to simply take in the sights among the meandering attendees, but.. You haven’t seen anyone for the past few minutes. Your footsteps start to slow, wondering if you missed a sign somewhere and you have the nagging feeling that you just need to find someone.

Cautiously, you keep moving, the sudden bout of nervousness easing when you see someone up ahead. They’re sitting at the foot of one of the rather large blocks of toppled variscite, a dark hoodie hiding their face. Their shoulders are broad, and their clothes are a little more ragged than you see on people around here, but it gives off more of a well lived look than a dangerous one. They’re tapping the toes of their boots together, the tread of them worn smooth, and a low, masculine hum reaches your ears the closer you get. He stops as soon as you’re within speaking range though, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees. There’s a street lamp not too far behind him, and with the hood and the angle of the light, it casts most of his face in shadow. All you can spy is a pair of long, thorn-like ear gauges, curling out from the depths of his hood. They’re bigger around than a thimble and sharp looking from this far away.

“Nice evening, hm?” You say in greeting, hoping that if he doesn’t want to speak, he’ll just bob his head and let you move along. You haven’t run into any trouble in Arroven yet, but even with that strange ache, you don’t know that you can see your good luck lasting forever.

“A lovely one,” he mumbles and he leans back, hands grabbing at his knees and squeezing like he’s the nervous one.

That thought makes you stop, your eyes focusing a bit more intensely on what you can see of his skin. At first glance, his knuckles are bruised and paint splattered, nails split and a little too long, skin rough in texture. You blink, realizing that his knuckles aren’t bruised, his skin just mirrors the strange patterns of the variscite he’s sitting on, ink black and sea green, and the rough texture to his skin has pointy, scalloped edges.

The noise he makes isn’t a sigh, not quite, but he turns his face away, as if he expects you to ignore him, or run, and his hood edges back, just a sliver. The arch of his nose is straight as an arrow, and his nostrils are thin things, slashing upwards. His face has so many angles that it’s hard to tear your gaze away. You wish you could see his eyes, but he has them closed, like he’s still bracing himself for a blow.

“Are you.. Are you alright?” You ask, because it seems like the thing to say, with how tense he is, with how he’s waiting.

His eyes flash open, reflective in the depths of his hood. His mouth curls into a frown when he turns to look at you again. His eyes are still the eerie glam of a reflected light. “You’re not frightened?”

“Are you?” You ask, ignoring the thundering of your own heart. You’ve seen Trolls before, and even a few half-elves or half-orcs of varying descent, with skin that just barely reminds you of his, but.. You’re willing to bet he isn’t any of those.

“A bit?” He says, unsure, and the edge of a violet tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. “It’s been a few centuries since any of you have made yourself so at home here that you stumbled across me.” He hunches his shoulders, looking away from you for the breadth of a second, before he can’t help himself. His eyes flick back to you, rove over you from head to toe, almost greedily. “You felt a call then, an itch?”

“An ache,” you correct, staring at him with wide eyes. Centuries? The long lived races don’t often mention the time they have over others. It’s rude at the best of times, and most of them are terrible sticklers for manners.

“At home here, you said?” You ask, knowing that something about him seems terribly familiar.

Your question makes him pause, brow lifting before he finally pushes himself to his feet. He unfolds, all long, heavy limbs, but doesn’t move from his spot on the variscite. “M-.. Arroven. You do think of the city as home?” He breathes in, hesitantly lifting his chin. “Not to be rude,” he says, a little awkwardly, “but you smell like Arroven.”

All at once, the old poem flickers back into your mind, the one about hearts and desires and winter. The oldest folktales of the first cities, those built around the serpent towers, all seemed to carry the poem with them. It was both a warning and a blessing to those that wished to stay. You’d have to hunt down the entirety of it, but the ending couplet?

The city promises, you’ll be most adored So can you, will you, join the hoard?

You bite down fiercely on the desire to blurt out dragon, but he must sense it, might even see the aborted twist of your lips.

“..you’ve figured it out, then?” He asks, and when his shoulders droop, you spy the barest edge of a wing, tucked in close to his back. “If being in my immediate vicinity is a problem, I quite understand, but please stay in the city. You-” He blows out a breath, large hands fussing about with his hoodie pocket. Everything about him reads awkward, almost shy. “You’re safe here, I promise.” He breathes in again, like he can’t resist, eyes falling closed when his violet tongue appears, there and gone before you can blink. “You belong,” he murmurs and tangles his fingers in the material of his hoodie, like he would reach out if he didn’t stop himself.

Inexplicably, you wonder if Mora knows about the city patron. If you should waltz into the shop tomorrow and announce: I’ve officially been welcomed to the hoard. ...Sort of. Before you lose your nerve, before you can bite your tongue, you ask. “An official welcome involves more drinks though, doesn’t it?”

-Arroven, the dragon, the founder of the city, is sitting across the table from you, slouching in a barstool that has a difficult time encompassing his enormous body. Despite his height, and the way his hood shadows his face in a frankly ominous way, no one is paying him any attention. One of the bartender’s had slid a drink list your way as soon as you’d claimed the seats, but she hadn’t even glanced at Arroven. In fact, you think her eyes might have skipped right over his seat. It’s a little disconcerting, seeing as he’d claimed that Wink was one of the best bars around, but if they ignore him, if they can’t see him?

“What’ll it be?” A different bartender asks, a tall elf, with his hair plaited back in a complicated braid. He has pleasant features, though he looks a little flustered, a lock or two of dark hair escaping his braid. You think he might be on the newer end when he fumbles a bit with the card you slide his way, olive skin flushing when his fingers nearly touch yours.

“Uh, the special,” you finally decide, expecting him to turn to Arroven so he can order as well. Your jaw drops when he whirls, not even bothering. “Ar- hey, wait!”

The elf turns back, smiling vaguely, looking even more tense now that he can’t leave straight off, but he doesn’t seem to see Arroven when you gesture towards him. His gaze zips right through the neckline of Arroven's hoodie, straight on through to the next customer.

Perturbed, you lean in close to Arroven, heart skipping a beat due to his proximity. He smells faintly of musty books, and stone, cooling in the early evening after baking in the sunshine of a warm day. "Didn’t you want something?” You force yourself to ask, unwilling to let the elf leave without at least checking with him first. He doesn’t have to get anything, but you’d hoped he would, if only so you can spend a while longer in his company. Maybe the flirtatious tone you’d struck had made him uncomfortable?

For a moment Arroven hunches further into his sweatshirt, and you think your fears might hold weight. You are a little close, and you still don’t know each other terribly well yet. You straighten, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel and Arroven heaves out a sigh. He finally tugs back his hood, though the elf behind the bar doesn’t even blink. “Just a.. a Beetle Wing," he mutters, large, sharp teeth catching the light. The elf nods, though his gaze is still on you when Arroven speaks, and turns away to go make the drinks.

Without the darkness of night, without his hood shadowing his face, you see that his eyes aren’t permanently reflective. In the dim lights of the bar, they’re a lovely shade of blue-green that matches well with his skin. What you thought were ear gauges were actually his horns, thick and curving, and trailing after the clean arch of his jaw. His ears are heavy with plugs though, and they clink against his horns when he turns, noticing that you’re staring. The scent of hot stone grows stronger when you smile at him, and then he huffs, looking away and running a hand through his already tousled, short dark hair. You catch sight of scales on his scalp and then blink. It’s not hair on his head, it’s feathers. His eyebrows are much the same, in miniature. Fine, thin feathers, as ink dark as the scalloped edges of his scales.

“So,” you tease, hoping your questions won’t come off as prying. “Can the rest of the people in here see you at all? You said that it’d been a while since anyone had felt at home enough here to stumble across you, but.. I don’t know exactly if that means Magicis is at work, or something else.”

Arroven breathes in, glancing up at the filigreed round sign hanging over the bar. There’s a single neon eye in the middle, opening and closing on loop under the word WINK. Even with the noise of people talking, and the music coming steadily from the small corner of a dance floor, you can still hear the faint buzz and click of the neon switching over. “Not many,” he finally confesses. “If the proprietor were here, she would see me, but she’s been here for a.. For a while.” She’s one of the long lived races then. Arroven turns, taking a quick look over the other patrons, tense, as if he expects one of them to approach. “The couple near the dance floor there,” he finally says, pointing out two women leaning into each other, stealing sips of each other’s drinks. “The orcish fellow on his phone. They can see me, though I doubt they’ll realize who I am. Just living here doesn’t make someone part of the hoard, though it’s always a step in the right direction.” For a second, he looks like he might let the subject drop, but then he cringes, glancing at your eyes before he looks away. “I don’t- I don’t steal from the people living here, whether they’re part of my hoard or not, even if they don’t realize I’m around. Even if they can’t see me.”

That’s reassuring, though you hadn’t planned on diving into that topic.

“What then,” you ask, leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, and your elbow on the bar, “makes someone part of your hoard?”

Arroven’s rough looking scales don’t shine, but the neon light over the both of you shifts again from blue, to pink, and back. It was already hard for you to take your eyes off of him, knowing who he is, attracted to the nervous quirk of his lips, but now? The magic that you’ve only ever felt the after effects of, the strange aches and coincidences, it feels like more in this moment. More than a soft nudge in the correct direction. Arroven is sitting at your side, winking neon sign a spotlight over both your heads.

Hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to stop him, Arroven lifts his hand, reaching out, and taps once, softly, against your sternum. “It sounds esoteric, but the only explanation I have is that all of you feels like you should be here. From the way you smell, to the echoes of your voice or your footsteps along the pavement...” Arroven swallows, and then inhales, letting his hand fall away from your chest as his eyes close. He doesn’t pull his hand back completely though, just lets his hand hover over your thigh. “It’s always the desires of the heart that bring my hoard home,” he murmurs and starts to sway towards you.

There’s a soft clink on the bar, your drinks being set carefully in front of you and Arroven. When you look, the bartender still hasn’t noticed the city patron, the dragon, but the drink is still clearly set aside for him. Your card is placed very quickly next to your glass, the elf flashing you a much more jovial smile than earlier.

“Your drink has been taken care of,” he explains, but doesn’t stay behind to point out who might have bought them. When you look, Arroven is sitting straight up in his seat, and his guilty expression is answer enough.

“I was supposed to be welcoming you to the city,” he murmurs, turning in his stool so he can take hold of his glass. The liquid inside is iridescent, shifting from what looks like violet, to a strange umber. You’re willing to bet that it’s more blue and green, but the neon light isn’t doing it too many favors. Arroven lifts his cup, patiently waiting for you to do the same and then quietly toasts your arrival. The clink of the glasses rings in your ears with the clarity of a bell, echoes lasting far longer than the noise itself.

“Goodness,” you say, coughing when you finish your swallow. Your drink is a little stronger than you thought it would be, heat already spiralling down into your chest and filling your belly. “So, uh, the city blessings seem to be true, I take it?” You don’t look at him as you speak, afraid he’ll cringe away from the mention of them.

“Blessings?” Arroven asks, and then you have to search up the poem. He sounds like he doesn't know, but they're supposed to be as old as the cities. Or near as.

“Sometimes they vary, from city to city. But most of the time they have almost the same structure. The same meaning,” you explain, pulling up the poem on your phone. “Hoarding hearts, keeping people safe in winter. The, uh-” You turn it his way, but he doesn’t take the phone from you, just reads the words out of the palm of your hand, brows raised by the time he gets to the end.

“‘Sinking talons into your thighs?’” Arroven’s slit pupils grow wide, nearly drowning his iris in darkness. He straightens, taking another hasty gulp of his drink. He laughs when he’s finished, nerves finally beginning to ease. “That’s how they’re translating it these days?” He asks, but you notice his eyes lingering on your hands, drifting down to your knees and the way you’re sitting.

You pass a good portion of the evening, teetering back and forth with conversation about the city now, and how it was when Arroven had first settled. For all that he’s wearing modern clothes and walking on two feet, you can see him in a larger, more draconic figure, delving into the variscite mines and overseeing the people that had decided to settle under his watch.

He’s just as enthralled with your stories though, hanging onto your every word, even though he’s still clearly a little anxious. He abandons his hunched and wary demeanor as soon as you start talking about the magic though. All the little aches and nudges and postcards that had led a clear path to his city. To him.

You insist on buying the next round when he makes to wave down the bartender, who is still completely oblivious to his presence, but Arroven stops you with a hand on your wrist.

"Another time," he says, just loud enough for you to hear. "A welcome isn't a single round, is it?" He asks, a tentative smile revealing a small glimpse of those sharp teeth.

You could argue. You have the feeling that he would let it go if you pushed, but the smile sways you. It's the first time he's spoken without lowering his eyes mid sentence. You accept the drink, and try not to stare when his smile grows, shy and small and all the more endearing for it.

You both pretend not to notice each other grinning after that.

It’s just past 1 AM by the time the both of you leave the bar, only slightly unsteady after a few drinks and a few plates of bar food. Warmth floods you when Arroven’s hand finds your elbow, just barely keeping you from stumbling off the edge of the sidewalk and into the street. All it takes is a single stroke of his thumb over your arm for you to throw aside any worries you might have about flirting.

He's reciprocated, in quiet ways, for the last hour or so. He’s leaned into you whenever you lowered your voice, had let his eyes linger on your hands and thighs after you brought up the poem.. The worst thing he can do is say no.

“Come to my place?” You blurt and Arroven stutters, hand spasming in his grip on your arm. For a heart wrenching moment, you think he might turn you down, but he finally bobs his head, gauges clicking against his horns with the motion. “...You said you’d been out of the loop with the people living here,” you start, mouth dry, wondering if he knows what you’re trying to ask, but still a little too sober to spell it out. “I’m asking, I’m not just asking you to come visit. I-”

Arroven stops your worried speech with a slightly awkward smile. “I know what you’re getting at,” he finally says with a gentle huff of a laugh, hand sliding down your arm until he can twine his fingers about yours. His breath hitches, and for a moment you think he might stop, might pull away. “I- I would love to,” he says quietly, and squeezes until his fingernails gently prick the back of your hand.

Wordless with triumph, you flash another smile his way, heart pounding as you keep hold of his hand, ventral scales dry, but slick against your palm.

“The walk back to my place is a bit of a long one from here,” you confess, glancing at the handful of cabs loitering along the street. “Seeing as you got the drinks, I can—” You nearly trip over your own feet when Arroven tugs you back, keeping you from approaching any of the cabs.

“I don’t.. Fit very well,” he says, apologetically. “If you would rather take one, I can, but if you aren’t opposed..” Arroven’s wings, still tucked in flat along his back, quirk and stretch, spreading wide enough that he nearly clips another leaving bar patron in the face. They don’t move, don’t see him, but they blink, as if a gust of wind just hit them, and shield their eyes until they’re well past you and Arroven.

His statement leaves you staring, jaw beginning to grow slack. “Are you saying you can fly us back to my place?” Your eyes trace his wings again, the fragile veins spider webbing across the membranes. It’s not that you thought they were ornamental, but it’s one thing to see them, and another to know you’ll get to witness their use first hand.

Arroven’s shoulders start to hunch, but his eyes flick down to your hand, fingers still curled around his. He smiles instead. “Yes?”

You glance at the cabs, and then back to Arroven’s tall figure and broad shoulders. As much as you’d like being pressed up against him, trapped in the backseat of an uncomfortable cab isn’t quite what you’d pictured, and he’s already nervous enough. That settles things. You nod, just the once and lift your chin to meet his eyes. “Flying it is then! We can’t have you getting stuck in one of those, can we?”

While Arroven walks you through how he’s going to pick you up, how he’s going to hold onto you, some of the people on the sidewalk start to watch you. You’re nodding readily at what they assume to be empty air. You spare a second to wonder if they’ll see you vanish, or if they’ll be able to see the equivalent of a magical wind carrying you away. That would cause quite a stir, wouldn't it? You forget to ask Arroven about it though when he holds out his arm, waiting patiently for you to step closer, fingers gentle in their continued grip on your hand.

He’s still giving you the chance to turn away.

You take a breath, thinking back to the nerves you’d felt, packing up a bag and deciding to visit somewhere based on coincidences and the hearsay of magic. You think of Mora, and the apartment that feels more like home to you than nearly anything else ever has. The way everything fits here, every piece of the city you've set foot in branded on your brain, clearer than any map. You step close, eagerly letting Arroven curl his arm around your back and then lift you up in a bridal carry. His forearms and biceps tense, bracing you as he prepares, and then the snap of his wings flaring open makes your heart jump before he leaps. His wings catch a sudden breeze swooping into the street, allowing it to lift the both of you well clear of the ground before he starts to flap. The slight dip in elevation as he finds his rhythm makes you clutch a little tighter, but Arroven doesn’t complain. In fact, when you glance at him, he seems to be holding back a smug little smile.

It’s cold when he finally crests over the top of the nearest buildings. Between the chill, and the fast growing height between you and the ground, you have no issues absolutely clinging to Arroven’s neck. You don't feel like you're going to fall, but it's still safer than sitting meekly in his arms, isn't it? You try to twist your head about to see everything below you, but another rush of cold wind makes you squint. It takes a moment before you realize Arroven isn't moving though, he's simply keeping the both of you suspended in midair.

“Your address?” Arroven asks as soon as you start to frown, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“Ah.” You give it to him, laughing when you meet his still-shy gaze. “I suppose that’s a little important.”

While the walk would have left you both a little tired, the flight is a fairly short one. You have just enough time to relish all the places you’re pressed in close, to enjoy what little warmth you’ve managed to keep with the wind seeping through your clothes, when Arroven lands in front of your quiet building. There are no witnesses but the dim streetlights, the sound of his flapping wings muffled by the mist beginning to roll through the city. Arroven lowers you almost reluctantly, fingers slow to uncurl so you can step down onto the pavement. He takes a step back as soon as you do, like he needs the space between you to think.

“Still up for coming inside?” You ask, giving him the same chance he’d given you earlier. You jerk a thumb at the locked door, searching for your keys with your other hand.

Arroven’s head jerks forward almost too fast, the dark feathers on his skull prickling upwards. His wings snap closed, tight against his back again as soon as you unlock your door. It’s only mildly nerve wracking, having him follow you up to your place, and you think it might be because of how nervous he’s acting. He flinches away from the wall when he barely brushes it, almost tripping over his own boots as he goes up the stairs. He’s been shy from the get-go, but this-

“Arroven,” you murmur, turning to look up at him, hand pausing on your door handle. “Is something wrong?”

He breathes out, turning his head so the plugs in his earlobes clack against his horns, blue-green eyes roving over the hall. “No,” he says slowly, forcing himself to stop hunching into his hoodie, to take his wringing hangs out of the front pocket. “I’ve just, it’s just that I keep-” He stays where he is, brow furrowing for all of five seconds before he’s huffing and stepping into your space. When Arroven leans down, his pupils are needle thin, that sunshine warm smell suffusing the air. He was summoning up courage, you realize, just in time to let your eyes fall closed as he cradles your jaw with both hands. They dwarf your human face, his fingertips easily reaching all the way to the back of your neck, but his touch may well be the softest thing you’ve ever known. His kiss is more the brush of his mouth over the shape of yours, a slip of a taste when his tongue follows the curve of your lower lip. He hums, softly, but when you kiss him back? When your tongue touches his and you try to stand on your tip-toes to deepen things, when you stumble a step closer—Arroven’s groan is gratifying. Achingly slowly, he draws his hands down the side of your neck, leaving you free to control the pace of the kiss. His thumbs trace your collarbone, slow, deep circles that make you wish you weren’t standing out here, fully clothed and too warm.

You pull away, licking your lips and glancing down the hall. There’s no one there, despite your pulse loud in your ears and your breath heaving, surely loud enough to wake even those in the very depths of sleep. Arroven’s breath hitches, and for a moment he sways, ready to chase you for another kiss. “Wait, wait,” you say softly, trying not to smile too wide when his eyes flicker open, dark pupils growing larger. He starts to straighten, embarrassment lifting his shoulders. “Maybe we should get in my house first?” You rush to say, not wanting to potentially scar one of your neighbors, but not wanting him to rush away either.

His mouth opens on reflex, and then closes, slipping into a gentle smile. “Yes,” he says, and then you have to swallow, watching his eyes slide down to your hands and then further down to your knees.

You get your door open before he touches you again, but you’re only a few steps inside when Arroven reaches for you. He strokes the back of his knuckles down your forearm, fingertips only barely grazing your hips. “I’ve missed this,” he whispers, one of his fingers catching two of yours. “Touching,” he explains, the edge of his thumbnail stroking over your wrist and the base of your thumb and back. “Being close to, well…” He breathes in when you step into him, and grows as still as a statue when you balance against him, reaching around his middle to swing the front door shut. This close, Arroven still smells of sunshine, but there’s a sweeter, crisper undertone that makes you want to close your eyes to savor it, to breathe it in. He’s nearly vibrating with you pressed close though, hands hovering somewhere over the middle of your back, trying to keep himself still. He’s waiting for you to give him the go ahead, still caught up in his nerves... Or maybe just manners?

You grin, gently pushing yourself back a step before you smooth out your expression. “Part of your hoard?” You wonder aloud, but then you can’t keep yourself straight faced any longer, wanting him to recognize the words for the gentle teasing they are. You smile. “How about you touch me then?”

Arroven huffs, pleased, and then you quickly discover how needy he can be. He kisses you all the way down the hall, his wings nearly catching on picture frames, hands trembling in their stroking over your back. He keeps pausing at the top of your hips, like he wants to let his hands drift lower, but focuses on his mouth instead, mouth and teeth moving from your lips, to your jaw and down to your neck. You don’t think he’s willing to risk going further though, knowing that it would likely end up with both of you unbalanced and on the floor instead of the bed.

“Distracted?” You ask, reaching blindly around your doorframe, searching for the lightswitch as Arroven’s tongue flickers over the pulse on the left side of your neck. Your own breathing stutters for a moment, heat building in your veins. “You keep-”

Arroven’s breath puffs over the damp patch he’s left on your skin as he lifts his head, violet tongue sliding along the sharp points of his teeth. “Hardly,” Arroven interrupts, and his wings tense when you hook your fingers into the neck of his hoodie, drawing him further into the room. Your fingers find the lightswitch, the soft ring of the bulb lighting strangely loud in the room. “You’re all I can see. All I can focus on. ..am I missing something? Cues?” He asks, voice gone lower when you give his hoodie a fierce tug. He follows, all too willingly, fingers flexing around your hips.

“Hardly,” you say back, teasing as you back up towards the bed. You pull when you lean back, expecting him to let you fall, to fall with you, but his wings flare again. He catches himself on the blankets, hands to either side of your body, the blue-green of his eyes swallowed by his pupils as he takes the sight of you in. “Still good?” You ask after a moment, because he’s staring, because he hasn’t moved a muscle.

“Tell me,” Arroven blurts, arms tensing as his fingers twist into the blankets. “Tell me what to do,” he pleads, gaze catching on every sliver of bared skin he can find. “I’m.. finding it a little difficult to think. All I want to do is make you happy, make you want to-” He stops, feathered brows drawing together as he considers his words.

You arch an eyebrow, your hands stilling just shy of his chest. The way he’d hesitated, his flighty touches? they all make a bit more sense now. He’d asked you to stay in the city, had mentioned your belonging here. If you wanted to leave, if you insisted on stopping, Arroven wouldn’t keep you. But he wants you to stay here.

“Little to no thinking,” you muse, unable to keep from smiling as he hangs onto your every word. “Undress me,” you finally decide, and his nostrils flare before he sets to work. He’s terribly careful, every brush of his scaled knuckles whisper-soft and cool against your skin, but his breathing is ragged by the time he’s finished and your heart has sped in response. You’re tempted to make him undress himself too. In fact, he would probably do just as you asked, but you’re too impatient to get your hands back on him. “Hoodie off,” you declare, half amazed that he’s obeying your whims, “and lay down on the bed.”

Arroven listens immediately, tucking his wings in close before he’s pulling off the hoodie, careful around the curl of his horns and the arch of his wings. He isn’t wearing a shirt, but with his wings, you understand why. Most of those with wings don’t favor mass produced clothes or modern fashion. He’s on the bed before you can finish pushing yourself back up, jeans low on his hips, pale belly and chest all the brighter compared to the black and teal pattern of his scales. His legs spread reflexively when you stand, jeans growing taut when you reach for him. Your hands are steady, even if your pulse isn’t, but Arroven doesn’t seem to care. He looks blissed out from this much touch alone, jaw gone slack, eyelids heavy as you unbutton and unzip his jeans. He exhales when you pull at his jeans, eyes zeroed in on your face.

He’s thicker than he is long, and as pale as his abdomen, save for a violet tinge that makes you think of his tongue. Nestled as he is in the ‘v’ of his unzipped jeans, it’s all you can do to keep yourself from stroking him straight away, or even leaning down to-

“Maybe I can think,” Arroven says hoarsely. He lifts one of his hands, gentleman-like, offering it to you palm up. “Let me?” He asks, though you’re not entirely sure what he wants you to let him do.

Mannerly, you can’t help but think, lips twitching as you place your hand in his. The older races are, generally. It’s something to fall back on if they’re nervous or unsure. Not that most of them would ever admit to it.

“Are you thinking I should leave your boots on?” You get one knee on the bed before you pause, glancing back at his legs still hanging over the edge.

Arroven hums, but his grip on your fingers tightens for a second, not wanting to let go. “I’ll worry about those later,” he says, and then inhales sharply when you straddle his lap, cock pulsing as you settle against him. If he wants to let his jeans tangle around his boots, you’re not going to complain. It’s a bit of a thrill, knowing that he’s too impatient to fuss with them.

“Boots on, then. Now, what am I supposed to let you do?” You lean forward, drawing an aimless, spiraling pattern from his abdomen up to his ribcage. He’s much warmer now, with you astride his thighs and his wings trapped beneath him on the bed. It looks uncomfortable, but he hasn’t mentioned them once.

Hesitant, Arroven’s hold on you loosens, and then his hand drops to your thigh, eyebrows furrowing when he finally speaks. “Sit on my face?”

The brevity of it, the tone of uncertainty, makes your mouth twitch. “Jumping right in there, aren’t we? And here I thought you were kind of shy.”

“I am!” Arroven blurts and then covers his face with one hand, laughing quietly at himself. “I am,” he says, a bit more composed when he lets his hand fall away. “Though shyness has hardly ever been a factor in my favor. What is it humans say? Better to rip off the bandage?”

You crawl halfway up his body, smiling wider when he forgets to breathe. “Had to get the anxiety out of the way?” You brush a kiss over his chin, eyes catching on the curl of his horns. He’s moved so carefully that you’ve yet to feel the sharp points of them catching your skin, but if you sit on his face… You ignore Arroven’s disappointed sigh as you turn away to stroke the pad of your thumb over his right horn, wondering whether he has any feeling in them. They’re as ink dark as some of his scales and twisted in a lovely spiral that perfectly circles his pointed, gauged ears. Arroven isn’t reacting like he has sensation in them, though he reacts to every other little touch of you against his scales. “You’re going to have to help me balance,” you confess, sitting back against his middle. “Because even though they aren’t terribly sharp, I rather think I’ll be risking my thighs. Don’t you?”

Arroven stares, blinking, and then he looks horrified, which makes you wonder how long it’s been since he’s been close to a human, if ever.

“I’m not against this,” you add, grinning, “just to be clear.”

For a moment, all he says in response is a strangled sounding “Ah,” before he blinks again, glancing up at the ceiling. “I can... I will help. I’ll be careful. More than careful.”

It takes a few moments, and some adjustment, before you’re finally able to settle over his face. Your heart starts to pound a little faster when Arroven opens his mouth, those dagger-like teeth flashing in the dim light. His hands are strong though, curling around your thigh and bracing your hip. He’s too tall for you to do more than help balance against his chest, though you can see that he’s still wonderfully hard, and his cock is starting to leak. You’d love nothing more than to take him in hand, to taste him, but then Arroven nips your inner thigh, and you stop paying attention to his cock and start focusing on sensation. Your fingers curl at the first hot swipe of his tongue, pressing a little hard into the ventral scales over his chest, and the next slow lick has your eyes falling closed.

It’s not easy to stay steady, to keep your arms and legs from quivering the longer he licks and slurps. Arroven sucks small kisses over your thighs and the left cheek of your ass, his teeth only ever the barest pressure on your skin. His horns graze you, but he’s true to his word in keeping you balanced. The texture of them against your skin is just something more to feel, to enjoy as he tilts his head this way and that. Pleasure builds, faster by far than the magic that built in your veins, that left you aching with the need to come to the city. If that ache had been anything close to what you’re feeling now, warm, and slick, with the heady pressure of Arroven’s fingers on your skin, you would have picked up on the breadcrumb trail a lot sooner.

“You’re go- going to push me over the edge,” you warn with a gasp, legs starting to tremble. He moves you in response, starts to rock your hips so all he has to do is stick out his tongue, but your hands are shaking now too, cluing him into your urgency. Arroven shakes his head from side to side, a little wild, the plugs in his earlobes clattering against his horns with every shift. You bite down on your lower lip, orgasm rolling swiftly over you and nearly choke on the curse that wants to leave your mouth. He keeps you there, aching and weak, until you pat awkwardly at his chest, releasing you reluctantly with one last obscene noise of satisfaction.

You sit next to him, still a little unsteady and grin down at his pleased, messy face. “Now, unless you have any other lovely thoughts to share - your turn?”

His rough sounding “Please,” has your libido jumping back into overdrive, but it’s safety that has you slipping off the bed to dig out a bottle of lube from your things. He’s half pushed himself back up when you come back to the bed, resting on his elbows, fingers twisted gently into the blankets. His wings are partially stretched out now too, one of them reaching all the way to the end of your bed.

“Are your wings alright?” You ask, wondering if you should throw away the idea of climbing back into his lap, lube already pooling in the palm of your hand.

Arroven smiles again though, waving away your worry. “Tense,” he offers, as explanation. “I was more focused on you, but they’re good. I promise.” His cock bobs as you approach, and then he lays back down, irises vanishing into the ether of his pupils.

“If you promise, I suppose I’ll let it go.” You close the lube, only a bit ungracefully, and toss it to the side, climbing back onto the bed and straddling his thighs.

Your first wet squeeze of his cock has him whimpering, your hand barely fitting around him at his thinnest point. When you stroke, he bucks nearly unseating you until he claps his hands onto your thighs, muttering a hasty apology. Despite being tempted to laugh, you narrow your eyes, squeezing him just a little harder. “You don’t have to be still, but move a little slower for now, hm?”

“Of course,” he rushes to say, and then his jaw goes slack when you press him against you. “Oh,” he breathes, nails pricking your skin as you hold him in place. You rub yourself against his cock, up and back down, a slow undulation that makes you tense, still sensitive from your earlier orgasm.

And then you straighten, pressing the head of his cock into you. The first slow stretch of him inside you echoes the steady ache of magic, has your breath rushing from your lungs in a gasp. “Fuck,” you breathe and then glance at Arroven’s face. His head is tilted back, mouth open to reveal all of those sharp teeth, and his eyes are closed tight. You think he might be keeping himself from looking at you, might be trying to stem the urge to buck again, to move at all. You tilt your hips and press yourself down though, wiggling, and then Arroven is cursing. You don’t recognize the language, but you understand the sentiment behind it, the pleading tone that softens the edges of the words. It’s hard to concentrate, to keep yourself from getting distracted when all you want to do is sink down every inch of him and then just lay on his chest, trying to catch your breath. “Too much?” You manage to ask, but all Arroven does is shake his head and then carefully ease his grip on your thighs, stroking down to your knees and back up. Your legs, among other things, are definitely going to ache after this.

You ride Arroven until he’s a shaking, breathless mess, until he can’t help but tense his thighs every time he bottoms out, and you can barely stay up. You reach up, fingers just barely brushing his chin to make him pay attention. “Fuck me,” you command and his wings stretch to either side with force. You nearly scream when he starts fucking into you with purpose, and as lovely as your neighbors have been, you have the feeling they’re going to complain at some point. Every thrust has you tightening up on reflex, still shaky from your earlier orgasm, and it’s all you can do to keep yourself upright. A few moments later and Arroven arches as he comes inside you, clutching tightly to you until he’s finished, breath deep and rasping. You don’t wait. Carefully you flop down next to him, smiling tiredly against the blankets. You’re not sure your legs will carry you for the next hour or so, but it’s hardly something to complain about.

“Do you give all newcomers to the hoard such a.. Vigorous welcome?” You ask, laughing, your voice rough, not really expecting him to answer. Even though he’s clearly a little more comfortable, even though he’s been clinging to your skin and he looks wrecked by all the activity. Arroven nearly chokes.

“No,” he says immediately. “Moments like this,” he murmurs, reaching out for you, ventral scales on his palm smooth over the apple of your cheek, “moments like this are few and far between.” There’s a low rumble of noise from him when you roll close to brush another kiss over his lips, eyes fluttering closed. It’s all you can do not to laugh again, not to quote the poem at him or interrupt the soft moment. It still sits in the back of your mind though, sweet and lilting.

the city is hoarding hearts

it draws them in, with coin, with art

reflects their dreams on mirrored glass

sings siren songs to catch them fast

the lights?

they gleam, they glitter, bright

it steals a piece, with every sight

roots get worn

they split, they splinter

'but i'll keep you warm, in the depth of winter'

the city whispers, it cajoles, it cries

it'll sink it's talons into your thighs

it tears, it scrapes, it batters the unwary

but oh, the love it gifts, to those who tarry

the city promises, you'll be most adored

so can you, will you, join the hoard?

#exophilia #dragon boyfriend #dragon x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #d.darling writes

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imaginesga1ore · 3 years ago

Text

Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.”

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3.

-----------------------------

Life never treated you well. Not even when you were just an innocent child, trying to navigate your way in this terrible world. You were forced into a cold and unloving organization that was run by people who don’t really give a shit that you were only 2 when they stole you. They never treated you like a human, more like a laboratory experiment, which kind of went haywire. When you were brought in, the sleaze running this entire operation stripped you of everything you had so far, which was only a name you had just barely begun to learn, and they assigned you a number, much like a court case; experiment 973. And that’s what you went by for the next 23 years of your life.

The day you were rescued from that deranged and psychotic place was...hectic to say the least. It began like any other day while you were their little pet; get woken up at the ass crack of you don’t know when, test out your powers until you physically passed out and then get ungracefully woken again only to be forced to use your powers. This continues for hours on end before these assholes make you go fight actual people in hopes that you aren’t lacking in physical strength. You fight until bodies start piling up and when your sadistic handlers are satisfied with your progress, as if you haven’t they haven’t been training you to take down monsters bigger than Goliath himself. But something wasn’t right and you could feel it in the enclosed space of your cell.

While you normally had a rough awakening by someone poking, prodding, and eventually yanking you out of bed, nobody was there. In fact, there wasn’t even a peep from the cells neighboring yours. That was until you heard multiple gunshots and multiple bodies slumping against the floor. See, the thing about HYDRA is that they’ve trained you for this exact moment but every single ounce of training they’ve ingrained in your body and mind left the building completely as you hunkered down against the wall furthest from the thick, metal door barricading you from the outside world.

Suddenly, the door you were just measly standing behind came crashing down, dust from the unwashed floor rising. After the dust settled, you looked up to see the poster boy of HYDRA himself, the Winter Soldier. “Steve, I’ve got a live one here. Female, looks to be in her mid-20s,” he whispered into his ear piece. He slowly moved closer, putting his weapon away as he noticed your frail body shaking from fear. “У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью?*” Shaking your head, the soldier stopped in front of you, kneeling next to you. “Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя?” Shrugging your shoulders, you made an attempt to look over at him. “That’s ok. How long have you been here?”

“двадцать три года*,” you said, a bit of hesitation in your voice, finding it hard to speak after decades of being punished if you spoke out of turn. As you finished speaking, you heard another voice, one which you assumed belonged to this Steve person.

“Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда,” Bucky said, standing back up on his feet. But you weren’t too sure about this. Along with your training, your handlers had pushed on you the notion that the Avengers, and anyone associated with them, were out to harm you, always, and that’s why you needed to be able to defend yourself.

“Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня,” you asked, clear hesitation towards the soldier who was about to grant you freedom from this hellhole.

Bucky looked at you with sympathy drawn over his features. Shaking his head, he gently grabbed your hands, a shiver traveling up your spine at the coolness from the vibranium arm. “Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда.”

-TIME SKIP-

It had been a few months since the Avengers had rescued you from HYDRA and you were beyond grateful that Bucky had stumbled upon you that day. But the fear that HYDRA had instilled in you about being near the Avengers was still running rampant in your system. Whenever someone knocked on your door, or came up behind you, your fight or flight instincts kicked in like that of an animal in the wild. You thought it’d be better by now, considering you have been going to therapy since coming to the compound. But today, all your frustrations came to a head.

You probably should’ve been in bed considering it was 4 in the morning but you needed to burn off some steam. What you failed to realize was that a certain super soldier was sitting in one of the boxes above the training center, watching your every move. But, him being a super soldier meant that he could pick up on more than you realized. Bucky had noticed that blood dripping onto the floor, which came from your terribly wrapped hands.

He knew you were on edge, but not like you were when he first got you out. By the time that you realized Bucky was in your presence, it was a bit too late. You felt a hand on your shoulder; two seconds later you had the body attached to the arm on the floor, your other arm extending towards their throat, keeping them pinned to the floor.

Once the haze cleared, you could tell who it was that you had down on the ground. “Buck? Oh my god.” Quickly pushing yourself off of him, you started pacing the gym floor. “Fucking shit. I am so sorry Bucky. I-I didn’t mean to do it. Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You kept rambling and pacing until Bucky stopped you, stepping in front of you to stop you from wearing a hole in the floor.

“I am fine, кукла. Are you ok? Your hands are bleeding.” Looking down, you saw the streaks of red coming out from under the tape on your hands. “Let’s go get you fixed up, ok?” Nodding, you followed Bucky out of the gym and towards the medical center. “So, what’s got you going at 4 in the morning anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep. No matter what I tried. I even tried that tea Wanda suggested. By the way, don’t drink it. It tastes like dirt.” Bucky chuckled as you sat on a gurney, grabbing supplies from the cabinets. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we wait for, you know, a doctor, or an actual medical professional to come in and do this,” you immediately questioned him.

“Do you seriously doubt my suturing skills? I did serve in World War II, so I’m pretty confident that I know my way around a needle and thread,” he said, carefully unraveling the useless tape from around your knuckles, taking a look at the damage. “Yeah, this’ll probably take a little bit, but don’t you worry, Dr. Barnes is always here to help.” Bucky smiled at you, calming your nerves the tiniest bit.

After prepping and numbing you properly, Bucky began stitching your open wounds shut. “So, do you wanna talk about why you couldn’t fall asleep? Talking might help, at least it usually does for me,” Bucky asked, not taking his eyes off his work in progress.

“I, uh, I keep having nightmares. They went away for a bit, when I could actually sleep for the night, but for some reason, they’ve come back,” you admitted quietly, almost like it was a dirty little secret.

“Well, you’ve only been here a few months so I wouldn’t expect your nightmares to just instantly go away. It took me a few years to actually get a good night's sleep with them waking me or anybody else up. So I know exactly how you feel,” he said, finishing up before wrapping your hands in sterile dressings. “And you are all set. Now, no excessive force, which includes going to the gym at 4 in the morning and working out like you are about to fight the Hulk.” You laughed lightly, shoulders loosening up.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I mean, you just stitched up my hands cause I got too into my own brain after I almost choked you when you could’ve just dropped me here and gone back to bed.” Tears filled your eyes once more, a thickening feeling surrounding your concerns.

Bucky sighed, gingerly sitting next to you on the gurney. “When I found you at the base, I knew it wasn’t going to be an easy ride for you. Or for anyone here really. Adding another member to the team can sometimes jostle things around. And I knew for a fact that you would feel like an outcast amongst some of the biggest heroes the world has ever seen...so far,” he said as you laid your head against his arm, wiping away the tears that had made their way down your face. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, if we became friends or even just acquaintances, that you wouldn’t feel so alone here. Cause I know exactly how that feels. And ever since coming here, I can see what I looked like when I was found; lost, felt like I didn’t deserve anything good or even deserving of love. But even though you hide it with a sort of tough exterior and you’re used to being trapped away, I can tell you something about yourself that you probably don’t even know,” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger. Cause that’s exactly how I feel right now.” At some point, of which you weren’t sure, Bucky had hooked his fingers under your chin, turning your face up to meet his. Your eyes finally met his, capturing the look of a pure and innocent love in his icy stare. He slowly leaned down, but stopping right before your lips collided. “Is this ok?” Quickly nodding, Bucky pressed his lips to your own, cupping your face as your injured hands made their way to his sides.

Pulling back, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. “Never thought that this is how we would have our first kiss, doll,” he said, making you laugh which in turn caused him to chuckle. “But, I’m not at all opposed to it.”

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.”

-----------------------------

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years.

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here.

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

If you see this on another blog, @multifandomwhre , that is my first blog where I submitted it to @sweeterthanthis “Quote Me” challenge.

#bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine #imaginesmcu #marvel

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heart-strong · 3 years ago

Text

The Strongest Sense

Couple: Aaron Hotchner and enby Spencer Reid

Summary: (hurt/ comfort and fluff) After a long case and not enough sleep Aaron finds Spencer awake in the kitchen having intrusive thoughts.

WC: 2.6k

CW: talk about 5x01 (Aaron getting stabbed, Spencer getting shot), misgendering, nightmare, Haley's death mentioned, thoughts of self-harm (not actually self-harming tho), panic attacks, and mental illness mentioned. Tell me if I missed something, I’ll add it no question.

A/N: So about a month it was 2 in the morning and I was feeling really shitty about myself and my bestie just said "Evie you get really depressed when you're tired." and so I wrote the original draft of this and then went to bed. The wonderful @hermes-creature betaed for me go check them out!

read on AO3

- - -

Aaron shifts in the thick blankets, not opening his eyes just yet. Finally home after a week and the detailed case, he is happy to be in his bed. But as he turns his body into his pillow, Aaron registers the weight and sound of Spencer's weighted blanket on top of him. Times like this make him realize why Spencer likes the blanket; the weight makes it easier to sink into the bed. Except the blanket being on Aaron means Spencer is not in bed. He reaches out to his left just to double-check and feels the sheets cold. Aaron opens his eyes and turns to his nightstand, seeing it is only a quarter past two. He shucks off the blankets overpowering him and grasps for the pajama pants on the floor. The ones Spencer asked him to take off, "I want to feel your skin on mine, Aaron." Locating them, he shucks the cotton pants on and leaves the bedroom without another wasted second.

As he walks further down the hall and descends the stairs, the light brightens until he reaches the kitchen threshold. Spencer has curved his back over the kitchen island with lunch meats, a box of fruit snacks, and crackers with baggies, post-its, and markers are strewn around. Aaron has done this before; he walks to the other side of the kitchen island to the sink, pulling out two mugs and filling the tea kettle with water.

Spencer will have nightmares that don't wake Aaron. Then he will be up for a while before he can't sit still anymore. He leaves the bed to make or rearrange the lunches, reading a book, listening to music from his childhood to help him fall back asleep on the couch. This is a habit, but it doesn't make Aaron worry any less. Now he sets the stove alight and finally looks at Spencer.

Spencer's hair is sticking up in the back and right side, probably from watching Aaron sleep. His glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, and one leg is tucked under an arm, contorting his body to be comfortable. He recognizes the oversized sweatshirt as his own as Spencer's one hand is swallowed up by the sleeve and atop his knee. Aaron also notes it's the knee he got shot no less than a year prior; the leg isn't covered in any fabric. He is currently scribbling a note on a blue post-it. When he secures it onto Jack's sandwich bag, he looks up at Aaron.

"Hey," Spencer whispers, careful not to wake Jack even though the boy could sleep through a hurricane.

"Hi," Aaron smiles, and as he hears the water start to boil, and turns it off before the whistle sounds. "What kind?"

"Peppermint, please."

"Of course." Aaron pulls out the box with the tea, taking out two bags and pouring the water, walking around to where Spencer is and sitting before he speaks again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, but then you got out of bed for nothing."

"What do you mean 'nothing,' Spence? You weren't in bed. You are half of my everything." Aaron reaches for Spencer's hand, but the younger man does not respond. Not even to flinch away as he sometimes did when the nightmares were most horrific.

"I wanted to cut," Spencer says as he weaves his fingers with Aarons.

"Baby, you could have woken me up." He feels 80 pounds heavier. What had he done to make Spencer not want to wake him when he thought of such dark things. Nothing Hotchner, he thinks to himself, Spencer's mental illness speaks louder when he's tired. At least that's what he thought; after long nights on a case, it always seemed harder for Spencer to find peace in his brain.

"Was it anything specific?" Aaron asked. Sometimes old cases where the team lost the unsub or victims hunted Spencer at night.

"Next week's going to be a year since I got shot and you were stabbed, Aaron."

"Oh." Aaron didn't realize it was that close; he still got pain all over because of that day. Or more like night. Time. That awful time.

"And it's hurting again," Spencer says. He got that far-off look that lets Aaron know to not interrupt, to just let him ramble. Making sure to tighten his grip on Spencer's hand but otherwise leave it be. "The dream was me getting shot, and it hurt just as bad. And then you were there. You were sitting above me, holding me. But then, where my hand was, on your shirt started to feel damp. The blood was soaking through your shirt. You fell unconscious, and I was sitting there helpless. The rest of the team took care of the press and Myers, and you're just bleeding out while I can't even hug you. Then I woke up, and my leg was hurting, and I just felt the dream both emotionally and physically, and I didn't want to tell you because it's the same day Foyet stabbed you. I didn't want to remind you. I just started thinking, if I need another surgery, how long will I need to stay back? How long will I hinder the team more than help? How long would I have to rely on your help so I can do basic things? Why would you want to help me again?"

"Hey, Spencer." Aaron can't let this go on further. "You just finished up a week-long case that ended with you needing to run to catch the unsub. Your knee probably hurts because you were on a plane not 12 hours ago, and you haven't been sleeping well since we were on a case. Your brain is overworked and now overthinking, Baby. Now, I am not trying to downplay your pain in any way, but this week has not been easy. Can we go back to bed? I can prop up your knee, and we can stay up talking. Give me all your thoughts, so you don't have to hold them to yourself. That sound okay?"

"Yeah, that sounds good," Spencer lifts the cooled tea to his mouth, finishing the rest. "But I can't walk," he added, suddenly laying on prime puppy eyes. "Can you carry me?" finishing it off with grabby hands blooming out of his sweatshirt sleeve and directed to Aaron as he stands reaching across the island for his tea.

He laughs, shaking his head down at Spencer. Aaron then pushes the hair that's fallen into his eyes away, tucking it behind his ear and moving into Spencer's arms. "I guess I can do that, but just this once. Can I finish my tea?"

"I guess." Spencer pouts as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend's middle.

Aaron drinks the room temperature drink while his fingers comb Spencer's hair flat. Spencer nuzzles into Aaron's abdomen, pressing his nose to his boyfriend and breathing in deep. A gesture that comforts them both, Spencer's weight on Aaron and loving his body no matter the damage. Because their job has damaged them physically. But Aaron prided himself that he could pick up Spencer and hold him the way he needs when the worst thoughts run rampant.

Aaron sets the cup back on the kitchen island and places his now empty hand into Spencer's hair. Spencer looks up at Aaron when his hands go to the nape of his neck, and Aaron can't help himself.

"Would a kiss help your pain?"

"It couldn't hurt more."

Moving one hand to Spencer's jaw and leaning down, they connect in a chaste kiss. It ends quickly with Aaron just melting into Spencer, kissing a trail from his mouth to jaw to neck, and hugging the younger man.

"Babe, I'm so sleepy." Spencer wines.

"Okay," Aaron laughs into Spencer's neck. "Shall we go back to bed?"

Aaron feels Spencer nod rather than sees it. He scoops up Spencer, taking his hand from Spencer's jaw and looping it under his knees. It earns a squeal from Spencer and makes Aaron smile.

Back in their room, Aaron sets Spencer on the big armchair in the corner of the bedroom surrounded by stacks of books. Spencer picks up a book off the top of one stack as Aaron flicks on the lamp on his nightstand. Usually, this chair is also adorned with Aaron's pressed suit he chose for that day. But tomorrow there is no work; tomorrow is a day in bed with his love and his son shuffling through the Netflix movie choices.

After setting Spencer down, Aaron grabs the glasses for water they both have on their nightstands and fills them with fresh water from their bathroom. Then back in the bedroom, Aaron sets up pillows halfway down the bed. He walks back to Spencer and picks him back up, kissing the top of his head. Then placing him on the bed and holding his knee gently as he adjusts the pillows perfectly for Spencer.

"Um, Ar, can you get another squishy one? There's more in the corner of the closet."

"Of course, my Love." Aaron lowers Spencer's knee to the pillow, squeezing his shin, and walks to the closet. After rummaging in the closet between Spencer's cane and brace, he finds one. "Is this one good?" He raises it above his head and squishes it for Spencer to see. It collapses immediately.

"Yes, and babe, my glasses are on the dresser, please?"

"Yes, anything else, my Prince?"

Spencer swallows before responding, "Gender-neutral pronouns?"

Aaron turns, glasses limp in his hand, looking at Spencer sitting in their bed. Not 20 minutes ago, Spencer told Aaron he wanted to cut when he woke. Now he didn't want to be a 'he.'

"Sweetheart, wait is that okay," Spencer nods to the fifth nickname that night. "How long have you been feeling these things? The self stuff and self-harm."

"I took some classes really early on in undergraduate, and I was intrigued. Then I went into the bureau, and Gideon told me how to look professional, and since he left, I kinda have been looking at things more."

"Spence," Aaron walks back to the bed and joins Spencer, handing them their glasses. "It's been about two years since Gideon left. Why haven't you told me."

"We weren't together. And then we were, and I didn't feel like myself because I didn't have Gideon to tell me what to do, how to look, and I had all these thoughts and you. God Aaron, you were so solid until, well."

"Yeah." They both knew they didn't have to say what the 'until' was. Aaron sits on the bed, placing the pillow below Spencer's knee. "I can't believe it hasn't been a year. And Jack, I am unbelievably glad I have you and Jessica, but sometimes he doesn't understand she's not coming back, and my little boy breaks my heart."

"Aaron, you don't have to," Spencer takes Aaron's hand and drags him closer to their body.

"No, Spence, I said we'll share our thoughts."

"But I don't want you to be sad."

"Do you want to change the subject?"

"Only if you want to," Spencer says. "But I want you to hold me, please. Like when I have panic attacks?"

"Of course. "Aaron takes the blankets where he folded them back before he placed Spencer in the bed and fit to their body. "Do you want your weighted blanket, or will it hurt more?"

"Can you take it off, please and be my weighted blanket tonight?" Spencer cards their hand through the short hairs by their boyfriend's ear before he leans away, picking up the 20-pound blanket and throwing it off the bed. "Thanks, Baby."

"Hey, that's your nickname." Aaron lies back down, slides his hand up their side, under their shirt, and swings his leg between Spencers, scooting as close to their side he can possibly get without hurting. "Unless you don't want that anymore. We can come up with others. I really,"

"Aaron, Babe. I just said it to throw you off. You can keep calling me 'Baby.'"

"Okay." He breathes out, thumping his head on Spencer's shoulder and moving his other hand up to Spencer's throat. Aaron feels the blood rushing beneath his fingers and threading them through the hair on Spencer's neck. "But," he looks up to meet Spencer's eyes. "What do you want me to call you?"

"Partner?" Spencer speaks as if they were answering Aaron when at work about the timeline for the geographical profile.

"Okay. I can do that." Aaron lays his head on Spencer's heart, still looking up at them. "What do you want Jack to call you? Do you want to tell Jack?"

"Jack can call me Spencer or Spencie like he does already." Spencer won't make eye contact as they sink their head into the fluffy pillow behind their head. "We just have to talk to him about it. I know of this book for kids. It's a chapter book, but super simple, and we can read it to him. It's a way to explain to kids transgender and pronouns."

"That sounds perfect. Do you want to tell the team?"

"Well, and don't be mad, but Penelope already knows and kinda Derek. I just told him that I was doing self-talk in gender-neutral pronouns recently, and he just told me to keep him up to date."

"Spencer, I am so sorry that I made you feel like I would get mad at you. We work with people and kids constantly going through similar things, and they are always afraid of telling their significant others. They think they'll leave them because of it. I understand. And with Penny."

"Right." and as Spencer realizes what Aaron said, they shoot up in bed. "Oww," They scream as their knee-jerked when they sat up.

"Hey, you okay, Baby?" Aaron sits up as he was relocated to Spencer's lap when they sat up. He then grabs Spencer's face on both sides and strokes his thumbs over their cheekbones.

Spencer nods with a whimper that sounded to be a close resemblance to a positive confirmation. "You didn't make me feel bad. It's exactly what you said. It's just harder to tell significant others rather than friends sometimes. Especially when friends are in the queer community."

"Well, I'm glad you told me, baby." Aaron kisses Spencer's cheek. "do you want to lay down again?"

"Yes, please. How you were before was really comfortable."

"Okay." Aaron lowered Spencer's head back onto the pillow. He slotted himself snugly to Spencer's body, one arm up to their shirt and the other brushing back the hair that had fallen into Spencer's eyes. "like this?"

"Yes. Um," Spencer wriggles their shoulders into the pillows then wraps their arms around Aaron. "I like being able to look at you like this. And your body is nice pressure."

"So much so you might fall asleep?" Aaron's dancing his fingers back against Spencer's artery.

"No." Spencer then yawns, covering their mouth with the sleeve of the sweatshirt sleeve tucked under their thumb, making 'sweater paws.'

"My pretty Spencer, you need to sleep," Aaron says. "You'll feel better after a long night's sleep, and if you don't, still thinking those bad things, I'll call the team phyc."

And there, in the warm glow of the bedside table lamps and the weight of their boyfriend, their accepting love-of-their-life boyfriend, Spencer shuts their eyes. Feeling safe as they feel their own blood rush and touch of Aaron's fingers.

"I love you, Spence," Aaron mouths into their throat.

And in response, Spencer tips their mouth to Aaron's hair. "I love you, Aaron." Making sure their nose is full of Aaron, as it's the strongest sense.

47 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Business Trip: Part 38 - Senses

As you devour the smooth, soft skin of her neck Momo’s hands reach for your belt, working the latch with quick, experienced fingers, having done it a thousand times before. With the belt undone she hooks her thumbs into your waistband and pulls your pants down, taking your boxers along with them.

Almost as soon as your cock springs free her hand is on it, and you let a loud sigh escape your lips at the feel of her hands on your shaft again - a handjob wasn’t exactly hard to come by these days for you, but to have Momo’s hands on you again drove the pleasure to another level. The history, the past emotions - it heightened every little ounce of pleasure, every little touch and taste.

Your cock hardens quickly in her grasp, every pump of her soft, long fingers creating delicious little spikes of pleasure that shoot up your spine and directly into your brain. Momo gasps as you suck on the warm spots of her neck and jawline, her pace with your shaft quickening with each moan of pleasure that leaves her lips.

She eventually has enough, and she draws her neck away from your hungry lips to make eye contact with you. You see the same look in her eyes you’d seen so many times before - hazel pools filled with lust and need and want. She licks her lips, drops to her knees, and you feel the breath leaving your lungs involuntarily as she takes you into her mouth.

“I should’ve known you’d be here early.”

“There’s a lot to do,” Hirai Momo says, raising her head from the laptop only briefly to nod a greeting of good morning to you as you enter Red Velvet’s apartment, “I double and triple checked all the tech in here along with all the cameras we placed at the entrances and exits. I had to do it before the sun came up - you know Irene’s thugs could be casing this place as we speak.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” you answer as you step inside the bedroom where Momo had set up her recording equipment on the wooden desk. You take a seat on the bed, where Seulgi had had her way with you the day before.

It was the day of Seulgi’s scheduled meeting with Irene, and a few hours before noon, which was when Seulgi said Irene should show up. You’d arrived early to ensure everything was in place; the others weren’t due to arrive for another hour or so.

“I have to think of everything. This is a big op,” Momo states.

“I know. You’re really going all out.”

Momo stops whatever she was doing on the laptop. Her back is turned to you, but you still notice her head has dipped slightly, as though she weren’t looking forward to the conversation you were about to have. Her hair, done up in a high ponytail, leaves the creamy skin and graceful curve of her neck bare. Her shoulders slouch slightly.

“This needs to go well. I need to take Irene down. I need to prove that I can do this on my own. Without you.”

Her words sting you a little bit, and Momo seems to immediately regret her words, at least partially.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly, “I don’t mean to say that you haven’t done your part in bringing Irene down. I guess... I just… when we worked together, when I was on your team, I always just followed your lead. You did all the work, made all the decisions. I guess that now that I’m on my own I need to prove I can do it myself.”

She’d started to say ‘I guess’ again.

“Momo, you don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”

“I need to prove it to myself,” she answers quickly.

A few quiet moments pass in silence. Since her reappearance you’d wondered why Momo had been so cold and driven; now that you knew it was because of her desire to prove herself, it explained a lot of the way she acted and spoke to you.

“I’m sorry, Momo. I didn’t know that that was what you wanted.”

“It’s fine,” she answers, shaking her head softly, “I could have been a little more straightforward with you instead of being a bitch to you for no reason.”

“Either way, when we get Irene today this’ll be your win.”

“No, it’ll be ours,” she corrects, “it was your team that got all that incriminating intel right from under their noses. Without it we wouldn’t have anything to prove she did what she did.”

“But it was your team that will actually bag her. The intel is useless if she keeps getting away.”

Her back is turned, but you could sense a small smile appearing on the girl’s cheeks.

“I guess we can call it a team effort,” she admits, and you are happy to find a little levity in her tone. “A team win.”

“You do remember what we used to do after each of our wins back in the day...”

“Take a cab back to the hotel room and fuck like rabbits?” Momo quickly answers, with a snort and a giggle. She turns her head halfway toward you, and you are glad to see a nostalgic smile on her lips.

“Yeah. Sometimes we wouldn’t even wait for the hotel. Remember the supply closet in the convention centre when we were in Frankfurt?”

“Of course I do. Or the cab in Lima? The driver must’ve been wondering why the hell I had your jacket over your lap in the summer heat.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t the first handjob ever given in that backseat,” you say with a smile, “either way it was real awkward making it from the cab to the hotel room with a raging boner.”

Momo giggles, and the sound is soft, musical; it lifts your spirits to hear something so wonderful, because you wondered if you’d ever hear it again. Memories of days gone past run through your heads, and bittersweet smiles paint themselves on your lips. Things were so much simpler then. No danger or drama, hurt or betrayal - only the next business deal to make, the next plane to catch, and evenings of passion and lust with someone you were falling in love with.

“I want things to be that way again,” you say, softly, the words leaving your lips before you even knew you were saying them.

“Me too,” Momo agrees, “but we can’t go back.”

“Why not?”

Momo turns her head back away from you, staring blankly at her laptop screen again.

“It was different back then. It was just me and you, without a care in the world. Before all these other girls entered your life. I don’t mind who you fuck - you know that - but these girls… They all want to be with you.”

“Momo, I-”

“Would they ever leave your life?” Momo asks, pointedly. “Sana is one of the most passionate people I know - and she’s crazy for you. She’d do anything for you, even if it meant risking her career or her friendships. That cop - Nayeon, was it? I know you have history together. Maybe you would still be together, if it weren’t for this job. How do you know she’s not the one? She came halfway around the world for the chance to start over with you. And Jeongyeon-”

Momo’s voice cuts out, a sudden rush of emotion keeping her from finishing her sentence. She raises a hand to her mouth, almost as if physically covering her mouth could keep her from saying something she would regret.

“...she loves you. I guess I always saw it in the way she looked at you, but I just ignored it. I thought it was just a schoolgirl crush. And she pissed me right the fuck off with how she told you about her feelings while she knew we were together… but she was right there with you in that alleyway, before we rescued you. That wasn’t a girl standing by her boss. That was a girl standing by someone she loves.”

Momo takes a few deep breaths to compose herself, and although only a few seconds pass, the time in silence felt like hours.

“And I… I love you too. I guess I’ve always loved you. I guess a part of me always will, no matter what happens today or who you choose to be with. But if we’re going to be together I want to know you’re mine, truly mine, and mine alone. I don’t care about where you stick your dick. I just care about who’s in your heart. That’s what I want. What I’ve always wanted.”

More quiet breaths, more thoughts and memories and emotions running rampant through the heads and hearts of two confused young people - more silence covering it all like an unwanted, uncomfortable threadbare blanket that provided little warmth.

“You’re such a lucky little douchebag,” Momo says with a chuckle and smile that had little humor. “All these stupid young girls, tripping over themselves to let you know how much they want you.”

The silence returns - but so does your answer.

“What about what I want?”

Momo doesn’t answer, perhaps unprepared for your question.

“All of you, you’ve all told me what you want, and why you’re each better than the others. Why I should pick you. But never once has anyone asked me what I want - what I was looking for. And not one of you has considered that maybe, just maybe, I have other things on my mind besides choosing a girlfriend.”

The words spilled from your lips before you could even know you were speaking them, because you knew they came not from your brain but from somewhere deeper inside you. Momo had brought up a good point; each of the girls had made their case clear to you over the past few days and weeks. Each had made clear their desire for you, how much they wanted to be with you. And you’d accepted their declarations and considered each in turn - but not until now had you considered what you wanted.

You decide that what you want at the moment is a little time alone. You stand from the bed and with steps that felt heavier than they should, you begin to make your way to the bedroom door. When you reach the door and begin to open it, Momo rises from her chair and places a hand on your wrist.

You move to step around her, but she steps in front of you as well, her head lowered, as though she were afraid of what she might see if she looked up at you. Behind her, she closes the door, the click of the handle sounding uncomfortably loud in the quiet room.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, her voice low and quiet. “What we want doesn’t matter if you don’t want the same thing.”

“It’s fine, Momo,” you say, trying your best to control your frustration and the sudden rise of anger in your head, “it’s fine. It can wait until after we bag Irene and finally move on from this mess.”

You move to step around Momo, but once again she blocks you from leaving by stepping in front of you - but this time she moves her face closer to yours, your noses grazing softly.

It only takes a few seconds and a light graze of your faces - but almost immediately the passion that once existed between you reignites. She was once such a central figure in your life, someone you saw almost every day and spent almost every night with; but to have been away from her for so long, combined with the dangerous and intense circumstances you’d both found yourselves in when you finally reconnected - it had all built up, waiting to be released.

Her lips press lightly against yours, and the kiss starts off tamely, as though both of you are testing the waters - but it soon ignites into an ember and then a flame, your lips crashing against each other as you both give in to your desires.

Momo wraps her arms around your neck and you wrap yours around her slim, perfect torso, both of you relishing the feel of each others’ bodies once again. Her tongue swipes across your lips and you let her into your mouth, your tongues duelling the same way they had on so many days and nights. She tastes of peach lip gloss and sweet candy, a treat you’d gone too long without, one that reminded you of simpler, carefree days gone by.

You give her a deep kiss before releasing her lips, diving into her neck and the warm spots there that you knew she loved. She lets out a wordless gasp as your need to press yourself against her in turn presses her back against the closed door. The soft smell of her perfume fills your nostrils like an intoxicating drug, one you long thought you’d sworn off, but one you now greedily fill your hungry lungs with.

The other girls were no slouches when it came to oral sex, each of them pleasuring you in their own way. But none of them knew you like Momo did; and combined with the pent up tension and emotion that had pervaded your every interaction with her since she left your team, it made every entrance and exit of your cock into her wet, warm mouth that much more pleasurable.

Her tongue swirls in circular patterns, focusing mostly on your head, swirling around the tip and beneath it, her right hand pumping at your base in time with each thrust into her mouth, the same way she had a hundred times before. And the reaction she creates in your body is the same; a quickly building pleasure that overtakes your senses from your head to your toes, the kind that removes the existence of anything else in the world aside from the beautiful young woman on her knees before you, and the wet, hot cavern of her mouth and tongue.

You brace yourself against the closed door with one hand, your other reaching down to cradle the side of her head as it bobs back and forth on your shaft. You let a sigh escape your lips - a needy, lusty sound - as you watch Momo work. When she looks up at you her eyes are just as wanton as yours, but there is more than just lust there; there is a look of affection, a look of a need fulfilled.

You want more - you needed more.

You draw your saliva-coated cock from the Japanese girl’s lips, and she moans in disappointment at your decision to stop her in the midst of her work. But when you reach down and grasp her by the shoulders and pull her up to her feet, her objections quickly flee from her mind.

You turn her around so she is facing the door, her hands reaching out to brace herself against it, leaving your hands free to explore her tight, perfect frame. She is wearing high-waisted black leggings that cling like a second skin to her small waist, full hips, and the round cheeks of her ass; and as great as the sight of the black spandex was, it looked even better once it was pulled down to her knees. Momo’s perfect, vanilla skin almost glows in the early morning light, creamy and soft, begging to be touched and held and squeezed.

You press yourself against the young woman’s now naked midsection, your slick cock pressing between the round cheeks of her ass and the small of her back. Momo gasps at the touch of your cock on her body, the gasp turning into a long, soft moan as you thrust softly between her cheeks, a prelude, a tease of what was to come.

She squirms against you, grinds her hips and ass against your crotch, her body moving like liquid as she struggles to find release for the need building within her. But you deny her for now - you had to feel more of her, had to indulge in more of the perfect body you’d gone for so long without.

You continue to thrust between her ass cheeks, but as you do so you bring your hands up her naked sides, enjoying the feel of her soft, creamy skin beneath your fingers and palms. When you reach the edge of the short blue crop top she is wearing you dive beneath it, finding that she is wearing a black sports bra beneath it. You dig your fingertips beneath it’s hem and pull upward, feeling her large, round breasts bounce free as you pull it above her full mounds.

Almost immediately your hands are on her breasts, indulging in the feel of her perfect tits in your hands, enjoying their weight and the soft creaminess of them. Your thumbs and index fingers find her nipples, delighting in the fact that they were already stiff with pleasure. You would’ve given anything to have them in your mouth, but you settle for teasing and pinching them with your fingers, twisting the stiff little buds until Momo’s gasps and whimpers turn into full on moans, filling the small bedroom with vocalizations of the physical pleasure coursing through her young body.

Momo’s butt grinds even stronger against your crotch until she is thrusting your cock between her ass cheeks all on her own. With a satisfied smile you release her right breast from your grasp, reaching down past sculpted abs and a flat stomach to the heat between her thighs, finding her almost dripping with need. Her own right hand joins yours at her crotch, her middle finger pressing your own against her drenched lips, pressing your finger down until it slips between the slippery lips of her pussy.

Momo moans - not a simple moan of sexual pleasure; a moan of need, of want, of pure lust. “Fuck me, please,” she gasps.

You decide she’d had enough teasing. Bringing your hands to her slim waist, you position yourself to take her. Momo’s hand at her crotch brings your tip to her wet, slick entrance, the head of your cock pressing between her needy lips.

You thrust into her with one long, smooth stroke - and you both feel the air rushing from your lungs in a loud, unhindered gasp of pleasure.

You both take a few seconds there as you fill her to the hilt; both of you getting that first hit of a drug after a long absence, that sinful depravity of an unexpected relapse.

But you both need more than just that first hit; more than just a promise of pleasure. And so you withdraw your shaft from her body, her pussy hugging it tightly as though unwilling to let it go. It glistens with her juices. She trembles with need.

You thrust back into Momo, then a third time, then a forth - until you settle quickly into a rhythm, fucking the gasping, mewling Japanese girl against the door of the bedroom with quick, strong thrusts. Her body is rocked with each entry into her pussy, the round cheeks of her ass bouncing deliciously with each impact, her spine and back easing into a delightful curve as she settles into your rhythm.

Her gasps and whimpers and moans fill the room, unheeding of the presence of neighbors or teammates or anyone else that could possibly interrupt the pleasure you were building inside her body. You cannot help but join her, her tight, hot body and the wetness of her pussy turning the pleasure in your loins into wordless grunts and gasps.

“Oh, fuck, fuck me please,” she gasps, her words light and breathless, as though she were having more than just lust fulfilled - there is a happiness in her tone, a joy, almost, that something she’d lost had finally come back into her life.

“Fuck, Momo,” you say in return, not capable of coming up with the words to say any more. When you’d fucked in the past your words were dirty, vulgar; now they were filled with some other emotion. Was it joy? Happiness? Nostalgia, at the way things used to be? You didn’t have the time or mental capacity to interpret it, not when Momo’s perfect body was taking you in and out, the tight wet heat between her legs driving you insane with each thrust into her pussy.

You settle fully into your rhythm, fucking her for a few beautiful minutes, neither increasing nor decreasing your pace; both of you enjoying the moment, the pleasure rising within your bodies. You drink in every inch of Momo’s body as you pump in and out of her - the graceful curve of her back, the round softness of her bouncing ass, the glistening wetness of her pussy lips as they take you in and out, lathering your cock with her slick juices each time. Your hands wander - over her hips and back and ass and breasts, never once breaking contact, never once without creamy vanilla skin beneath your fingertips.

You reach up to the bun of hair at the back of her head and give it a light tug, pulling her head back, her throat opening up into a long, lustful moan.

Her hands search for something, anything on the wall to grasp as an outlet for her pleasure - but failing to find anything, she reaches for the desk next to her. The task is made impossible by each thrust into her body, causing her hand to bounce frantically around on the desk; her movement knocks a few notepads and pens to the floor, not that she minded, not that she gave a damn or could even process the mess she was making, not when every thrust of the stiff, long cock into her body was driving her insane with pleasure.

“I… I, oh god, I’m cum-”

You’d seen and felt Hirai Momo orgasm hundreds of times, but the orgasm that overtakes her now is perhaps the strongest you’d ever given her. Her perfect, sculpted body is reduced to a quivering, mewling mess as your next thrust drives her over the edge. She moans. She gasps. But mostly, she trembles and shakes as she cums, her gaping mouth frozen in a seemingly endless moan of pleasure.

Her pussy clenches and pulsates and tightens deliciously around your cock - and it takes every effort not to join her over the edge. For as wonderful as she was from behind you had to have her face to face, needed to see those perfect features while you filled her.

Momo seems to have the same idea, for when she eventually recovers from her orgasm she turns around, letting you regretfully slip out of her body. She almost tears her leggings from her body before turning to the desk and sweeping half of the stuff on it onto the ground. Locking eyes with you, she hops onto the desk and spreads her legs, allowing you between them.

Within seconds you are inside her again, fucking her face to face.

She was a sight to behold from behind, but nothing quite beat watching her face as you filled her again and again with your slick, hard cock, those pretty features contorted in pleasure and lust and fulfilled need. Each thrust into her body gives her breasts a beautiful shock, her stiff nipples bouncing deliciously with each clap of your crotch against hers. The flex of her sculpted abs with each of her breaths, the soft creaminess of her thighs as she spreads them widely to take you inside her, the shaved mound above a glistening pussy and its splayed lips as your cock pumped in and out of her - it all became too much, all became too much to take in at once. It almost embarrassed you to admit you were closer to orgasm than you thought.

Momo lies back on the desk until she is resting on her elbows, giving you a perfect view of her body as you continue to fuck her. She captures both of her large breasts for a moment to pinch her own stiff nipples, before releasing them both so you could watch them bounce with each thrust into her body - just the way she knew you liked. Her eyes, locked on yours, are half-lidded and dripping with wanton desire.

For a few long, beautiful minutes you fuck the young woman on the desk, relishing the feel of every thrust, every entry and exit into her impossibly perfect body. But the feel of her wet, hot silk wrapped around your shaft, her needy and wanton cries of lust and moans of need - they all built up to an orgasm you were simultaneously craving and fearing, because you knew it would mean an end to this experience.

“Fuck, Momo, I-”

“Just cum for me, baby,” she replies, raising her torso from the desk to press her mouth against your ear as she wraps her arms and legs around you, “Please. Cum in me like you used to. Fill me again. Fill me with your cum.”

“Momo… Momo, I-”

“Cum inside me!”

When you finally cum it is like your world has ended; the pleasure overtakes every ounce of your being until you’re unsure whether you’re still alive. The pulsating of your shaft inside Momo’s hot, tight pussy, the feel of filling her body with thick, creamy semen, and the light, airy gasp of her moans are the only physical sensations you are aware of.

You almost forget to breathe - and when you finally regain consciousness, holding yourself up with weak hands on either side of Momo’s exhausted body, you have to remind yourself to do so, taking in large gulps of oxygen to feed tired lungs.

It’s Momo that raises your head with her hands until you are face to face with hers. Her eyes are heavy with fulfilled lust, but also genuine affection. She was someone you loved and someone you might still love - and you see, in those dark brown pools, that she perhaps still felt the same.

She kisses you, and it is a kiss that confirms the way she felt.

---

“This is a pretty big deal, huh?” Minatozaki Sana asks.

“Yes, yes it is,” Yoo Jeongyeon answers, although most of her attention is focused on the bank of laptops and screens in front of her.

Sana sighs to herself, seeing that Jeongyeon was too preoccupied with making last minute adjustments and preparations on her laptop to provide her with conversation. The two are sitting in the back of the van that belonged to Momo and her team, parked in an alleyway a block from Red Velvet’s apartment building. Jeongyeon was in charge of keeping an eye on all the cameras Momo and her team had planted the day before.

Sana fidgets with the backpack on her lap, playing with the zippers the same way an impatient child might while waiting for class to start. Jeongyeon turns her head from the monitors to give Sana a sharp look - and the Japanese girl gives her an apologetic bow of her head before ceasing her play with the zipper.

But soon she is tapping a beat on the backpack with her fingers.

“Sana,” Jeongyeon finally snaps.

“I’m sorry,” the Japanese girl replies, “I’m just… nervous.”

“We all are,” Jeongyeon replies, her tone relaxing somewhat, “but we’ll be okay. This time tomorrow we’ll be laughing about how we’ve finally bagged Irene.”

Sana seems comforted by the Korean girl’s confidence, and she offers her a smile.

There is a knock on the rear of the van, and the door opens to reveal a smiling Yeri.

“Ready to go, Sana-chan?” the young woman asks, her bright face beaming, showing no trace of nervousness given the gravity of the day’s upcoming events.

“Ready!” Sana answers, as brightly as she could. The Japanese girl gathers the backpack that is carrying her recording equipment and hops out of the van, giving Yeri a high five as she does so. Taking a deep breath to gather herself, she begins to walk away towards the cafe opposite the apartment building, where she was to set up her lookout point. Her role was to inform the rest of the team the second Irene arrived on the premises.

After watching Sana leave and giving Jeongyeon a reassuring smile, Yeri returns to her place in the passenger seat of the van.

Chaeyoung, sitting in the driver’s seat, doesn’t even turn her head to welcome Yeri back into the cabin. Her eyes are locked on Sana’s swaying hips as the girl walks towards the cafe. “Damn, Japanese girls are hot,” she says under her breath.

“They sure are,” Yeri agrees as she retakes her seat.

Had Chaeyoung been able to tear her gaze from Sana, she might have noticed something tucked into the back of Yeri’s pants.

---

“She’s here,” Momo says from her seat in front of the recording equipment, “Sana reports she’s alone. Jeongyeon says she’s at the main elevator.”

“Finally,” Jihyo says. She closes up the bulletproof vest she is wearing and draws her sidearm from the holster at her belt before racking the slide and chambering a round. On the other side of the bedroom Nayeon does the same, the thick dark blue vest looking almost out of place on her tiny frame.

The sight of Nayeon handling the weapon disturbed you somewhat; not that you felt she was incapable of handling herself - rather, you had trouble difficulty reconciling the image of the young, naive schoolgirl you once knew with the strong, confident woman who now stood in front of you. As Nayeon reholsters her pistol, some sort of compact Glock variant, she catches your eyes and gives you a sheepish smile. You are comforted, somewhat, in seeing a little bit of the girl you once knew in the woman’s soft, beautiful features.

You open the bedroom door to speak to Seulgi, who is waiting on the living room’s couch.

“She’s here.”

You wonder if there is anything else you could say, any small words of encouragement you could provide the former member of Red Velvet that might help her in some way. But when you see the determination and conviction in her eyes, you realize she didn’t need to be told anything further.

Closing the door, you step back into the bedroom, where the other three girls are standing by.

“Let’s recap. When Irene gets here, Seulgi has five minutes to confront her. Only after those minutes are up do you two go out there and arrest her.”

“I still don’t understand why she gets five minutes at all,” Jihyo states. “This is a criminal matter. We need to arrest her the second we’re able to. Every extra second she spends out there is a second she can use to get away.”

“I promised her five minutes,” you answer. “It’s the least we can do for the work she’s done to get Irene here. Without Seulgi, this doesn’t happen.”

“She deserves it,” Momo adds, giving you a reassuring nod.

“Fine. But the second those five minutes are up, Nayeon and I go in there and arrest her. Then we take her straight to the station for processing.”

“Understood,” you answer.

Satisfied that the plan was in place and the four of you were on the same page, you take a seat next to Momo, accepting the pair of headphones she offers you that are connected to the listening and recording devices in the living room. On the screen of her monitor, you watch Seulgi pace nervously back and forth as she waits for the knock on her door.

“Seulgi, I-”

“No. You don’t get to speak. I ask the questions, you answer them. That’s how this goes.”

“I… I thought you were-”

“What did I just say?”

“Is Yeri-”

“She’s fine. Now stand there and shut the fuck up.”

Their first words are contentious and confrontational. You’d wondered how their first interaction would go; Seulgi, as she often did, set the tone.

Irene looked confused, almost unsure of herself - and it seemed out of place for her character, given your only other direct interaction with her. In her office at SM HQ all those months ago, Bae Irene was cold and calculating, with a ruthless streak that pervaded every aspect of her character. Now she seemed rattled, as though merely seeing Seulgi again had shaken her to the core. Understandable, given what happened the last time they saw each other.

“Do you know… what I had to go through… when you left us behind?” Seulgi asks. While she was obviously trying to remain as cold as she could, the small hints of weakness in her tone betrayed the strong front she was trying to put up.

“Seulgi… please. Let me-”

“Y’know, all those months we spent in YG’s dungeon… I thought about giving up. About letting it all go. But only one thing kept me going, Irene. Just one thing gave me the strength I needed to make it through the day. Only one thing gave me the drive to escape YG. Do you… do you know what that was?”

Irene is shaken as she listens to Seulgi’s words. She fidgets nervously with her jacket, her feet shuffling on the floor nervously. But her face - her expression - was what gave her away. She is a broken woman, as though the very sight of Seulgi had torn down the cold ice queen persona she was so well known for.

She seems unable to even answer Seulgi’s question, and so she merely shakes her head.

“It was the possibility… the idea that I might see you again some day. That I might stand in front of you and ask you just one question. Just one word.”

Irene’s lip quivers, as though she were fighting a vain battle to hold back her tears.

“...why?”

Irene lets an exasperated gasp leave her mouth, as though it were something she were struggling to keep inside. She covers her lips with a hand, her eyes closing.

“Why?” Seulgi continues, “Why did you leave us behind? We cried and sweat and bled together, and when it came down to it - when we needed you most - you left us behind!”

Seulgi’s anger is at the fore now, and she does nothing to fight it, nothing to save her words. She is shaking, her hands balled into tight fists.

“Fucking tell me, Irene! Tell me why you left us behind!”

Through the camera feed, you witness Bae Irene do something you never in a million years thought you’d see - she cries. The tears fall from her cheeks in a glistening spill, down perfect, porcelain skin. She covers her face with her hands, as though her hands could somehow keep her from facing the accusations of her best friend and the dark memories that accompanied them.

“I’m so, so sorry, Seulgi. I-”

“No,” Seulgi demands, and while her back is turned to the camera you could tell from her tone that she too was crying. “No, you don’t get to apologize. You only get to answer the question. Now. Tell me. Tell me why.”

A few moments pass as Irene struggles to control her emotions. Your view of her is shaken; you long thought of her as a cold and calculating villain, heartless and cruel, especially as you navigated the many challenges and dangers she and her company threw your way. But that was all a far cry from the broken, teary girl on the screen of the laptop in front of you.

“I… I… Do you, do you remember… when I was first assigned to take down YG?” she asks, with uncertain words, wiping away tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. She keeps her gaze locked on her hands as she struggles to compose herself, unwilling or unable to match Seulgi’s eyes.

“Yes. You got in close with the YG CEO.”

Irene smiles at the floor, despite her tears, as though she had just heard a joke.

“I lied to you, Seulgi. I lied to all of you. I told you I had the upper hand, had him wrapped around my finger. It was the opposite.”

There is silence for a few moments as Seulgi tries to comprehend what she was saying, and while Irene tries to compose her next words.

“I tried to overpower him, bend him to our needs, the way we always did with other men. But he was scarier than I thought. Instead, he turned it around on me. He used you four to get to me.”

“...what?”

“He suddenly had pictures of the four of you. He knew where we lived, where we worked, where we went out for dinner. He threatened to hurt you if I didn’t do what he said. And through us, he wanted to bring down SM as a whole. But even that wasn’t enough - he threatened my family too, and yours. He even had pictures of Wendy’s family in Canada. I didn’t tell you any of this. I got us into the mess, and I thought I could get us out of it.”

“But I thought… I thought you had him under your control? And that was how you found out about Blackpink, and how we needed to rescue them?”

Irene laughs again, a sad, ironic smile on her lips that carried little humor.

“That wasn’t a rescue mission, Seulgi. That was a kidnapping.”

Seulgi doesn’t answer, seemingly shocked into silence.

“YG relied on Blackpink. They were YG’s corporate espionage division - not their R&D team, like I told you. Blackpink were the ones that stalked our families and got YG their information. Without them their company was going under, thanks to all those scandals they were involved in. Taking Blackpink down was a form of revenge on them - and I thought that it would keep him from threatening us ever again. Once he promised to leave us alone, I’d let the girls go. The less you four knew about it, the better off you were. But things went south during the mission...”

“Jesus, Irene…”

“...and I had to leave you behind. I thought… I thought I could exchange the Blackpink girls for you and Yeri. He insisted I release the girls first. I was desperate and I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to make sure you two were okay - so I released them. But YG didn’t hold up their end of the bargain. They kept you two. And they used you against me, as revenge.”

“How?”

“They threatened to hurt you if I didn’t comply with them. They knew JYP was their next closest competitor, so they told me to do whatever it took to bring them down.”

“So all that backstabbing, hiring Chou Tzuyu and Minatozaki Sana to bring down JYP, hacking their servers - that was all on YG’s orders?”

“Yes,” Irene answers, the word a soft gasp that leaves her lips, as though she didn’t want to say it.

When Seulgi speaks, it is only after long, agonizing minutes in silence.

“That… that’s not enough, Irene.”

“...what?”

“You… you still left us there.”

“I had the Blackpink girls. I thought I could-”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you left us behind. It doesn’t take away the pain-”

“Seulgi-”

“I would have never left you behind, Irene. I would have stood there and fought with you. I would have been captured with you. And I would have been right there with you while those YG fuckers-”

“Seulgi, please. YG-”

“No. No, Irene, No. I don’t give a shit about YG or SM or JYP or whoever the fuck else was involved. No. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not anymore.”

Tears have begun to fall down Irene’s cheeks again, although she makes no effort to wipe them away, facing Seulgi with as brave a face as she could possibly make. Perhaps she knew, somewhere deep down, that facing Seulgi’s accusations was a punishment she deserved.

“I loved you, Irene!” Seulgi says, her words desperate. “I loved you. I still love you. And when I saw you leave us behind it shattered my heart into a million pieces. That pain, and the pain we endured at YG - it was all because of you. You deserve to feel the same pain I did.”

In the bedroom, Jihyo rises to her feet.

“That’s it,” she says with a hushed whisper for fear of the two in the living room hearing, “that’s all we need. Her time is up, and she’s about to go ballistic. We go now.”

Before you can stop her or say otherwise, Jihyo is already opening the bedroom door, Nayeon close on her heels.

“Seoul PD! Bae Irene, you are under arrest,” Jihyo announces, ignoring the confused protests of Seulgi, Momo and yourself. She begins to read out the list of Irene’s crimes as Nayeon steps behind her and handcuffs her.

The next few seconds are a whirlwind of confusion, an overload on the senses. Seulgi’s anguished cries of anger; Momo trying to reason in vain with Jihyo; Nayeon reading Irene her rights in both English and Korean; Irene’s cold, sad eyes, and the defeated look on her tear streaked face as her wrists are cuffed behind her. It all almost seemed to move in slow motion, the angry and sad and stern tones all blending into one long, incomprehensible blur.

Some time later, you’d look back at what would happen next and remember the utter chaos that erupted all in the space of a few seconds. You remember the way it felt - the sudden, unexpected rush of air pressure. The way you felt it in your skin and especially in your ears. The bright, wicked flashes of light that stole the attention of your eyes before temporarily blinding you with their unwanted brilliance.

And later you’d wonder how someone who’d seen and heard many thousands of gunshots on TV, movies and video games was still utterly unprepared for the sound of a gun firing twice, indoors, from only a few feet away. Gunshots, you realized that day, are greedy, possessive things - demanding every ounce of your attention, against your will, ignorant of your preparation or readiness for the sensations that accompanied them.

When the gunshots finally release your senses from their grasp, your eyes are the first to recover. They register two bodies on the floor lying in crumpled heaps. Your last glimpse of Seulgi is as she’s dragging Irene out of the door and into the hallway, a smoking pistol in her hand.

---

Author’s Note: :O

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #pov smut #male reader #twice momo #twice #hirai momo

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multifandomwhre · 3 years ago

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Loves Harsh Reality

Summary: Life is a bitch.

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Reader, Avengers x Reader (all platonic)

Warnings: swearing, mention of past/current abuse

Prompt: “You want what everyone wants. You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, and adventure, and maybe even a little danger.”

Word Count: 1780

Do not copy, translate, or post any of my stories anywhere you write stories, whether that’s here, Wattpad, or Ao3.

-----------------------------

-TIME SKIP-

“Oh yeah? What would that be,” you asked, quite curious as to what he may have found out.

“I’m glad. Now let’s get out of here. I’m tired.”

-----------------------------

1. У тебя все нормально? Я ведь не бил тебя дверью - Are you ok? I didn’t hit you with the door, did I?

2. Меня зовут Баки. Что у тебя? - My name is Bucky. What’s yours?

3. Это хорошо. Как давно ты здесь? - That’s ok. How long have you been here?

4. двадцать три года - 23 years.

5. Хорошо. Стив дал мне добро, чтобы мы могли убираться отсюда. - Ok. Steve gave me the go ahead so we can get out of here.

6. Ты ведь не сделаешь мне больно, верно? О-или убить меня? - You aren’t going to hurt me right? O-or kill me?

7. Конечно, нет. Я вытащу тебя отсюда. - Of course not. I’m going to get you out of here.

8. Кукла - Doll

I will also be posting this on my other blog, @imaginesmcu. This is a very, very late submission to @sweeterthanthis ‘s “Quote Me” challenge.

#bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes imagine #marvel

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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Humans are Space Orcs

Super excited about this guys, it went in a direction I did not expect, and you will learn a ton more about one of my alien species :)

“Commander!”

“Krill, hell am I glad to see you.”

Overhead, the dark shape seemed to coalesce from the night, into a familiar human form. Though Krill couldn’t see his face, he would have known his voice anywhere.

“I’,worried that you had died, commander.”

“Only just avoided it.” He whispered,d “now enough with the reunions and time for an escape.”

Krill watched him crawl along the bars of the cage and down the other side, floating over to be at the door when it opened. There was a sharp hiss and the door popped inward, revealing the man in the half light of a distant, glowing orb.

The man looked, a mess.

His hair had grown long and scruffy around his ears and cheeks. He was sporting a short beard, and - “What the hell are you wearing.”

“Hey, they caught me on laundry day alright, I had to improvise.

” Krill shook his head but floated form the doorway, “What happened, how did you end up here…. How did you escape?” He had to admit, he was both impressed and surprised at the commander’s escape, it was leaning towards smarter than he would have usually given the man credit for, but by now krill had learned that while commander vir was an idiot, he was an intelligent one.

“Got sucked into a wormhole, spat out on some tropical desert sort of planet thing. Got attacked by a blue raptor and was rescued by the omnidroids.”

“The omnidroids?”

“You know those big tall grey guys with five limbs?”

“Ah yes, that sounds like what happened to me….. And this escape plan of yours.” He was almost jealous that Adam had managed to escape before he had, but he supposed the human had some inherent advantages that he just did not.

Adam crouched low, dragging krill to the side as a group of giant scorpions scuttled past in the distance, not something that the two of them wanted to get involved in.

“I spent the first few days testing to see how much they watched me, and how much it would take to get them to come running. When i Had everything mapped out I moved to the top of the cage, so I wouldn’t make them suspicious the first go around. Luckily for me they sort of noticed and set up a little hanging nest for me up there.” He flexed his hands, “Then I used the iron eye to bend the bars and escape. Now I am letting out all the other animals on my way out of this place.”

Not bad, not bad at all, though Krill would call it less of a plan and just characteristically flying by the seat of his pants, but he had a new motto for the commander that he thought encompassed his behavior really well.

It’s not stupid if it works.

He grabbed Krill by the upper arm and dragged him behind, “Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here before.”

Sirens.

And flashing red lights.

“Shit!”

Commander Vir and Krill dived into the bushes watching as a large creature made of waving tentacles rolled past.

The sirens above their heads were deep and booming, and almost as soon as they had gone off the entire park was alive with voices and the whirring sound of drones.

Three of them cut past chasing down the tentacle ball as Adam and Krill crouched in the shadows.

“Krill, you have a big brain, do you remember the way to their docking station?”

“I…. well yes of course I do.”

“Alright, than we head there?”

“And how exactly do you plan on getting out of here.” Krill wondered as they continued to slip their way through the bushes.

“I uh, well I hadn’t really gotten to that part yet.”

Krill would have rolled his eyes if he had had them, but at this point in his life, he was too jaded to really even care that the human had no real plan. It was just good to be back with his friend. They crouched in another set of bushes watching silently as a group of aliens attempted to wrangle some sort of large panther like beast, It had eight limbs and a head sort of like a cat except for the tubular protrusions on the side of its neck.

“I’m sorry I got you into this Krill, I…. I thought I had saved everyone.”

Krill shook his head, “Put the self blame away for the moment Commander. We need to get out of here.”

“Alright, alright.”

KRill grabbed the back of the man’s iron eye armor as he slipped through the bushes, following Krill’s instructions as they moved through the massive zoo. Whenever they could they continued to unlock enclosure doors, and for every one of the creatures that they caught there were always more to take their place.

They were coming up on the edge of the building when commander Vir pulled up with a curse.

Krill peered over his shoulder and immediately saw the problem.

Forty foot high steel walls with cameras and drones on all sides.

He cursed again crouching low in the bushes as another group of keepers ran by, heading in the opposite direction.

“Well, now what do we do?” Krill wondered, and the human was quite for a moment.

He flipped up the eyepatch he had still managed to hold onto and scanned his surroundings with the slow sweep of his head, “Ah ha,” he gestured towards the wall, and a large spherical building that was pressed right up to it, “That doesn’t look like an enclosure, and twenty bucks says it has a door that leads out of this place and onto the landing field that you were talking about.”

Krill sighed, “Of course it can never be easy.”

Commander Vir shrugged, “We’ve had worse.”

“When have we had worse!”

“We went to prison that one time, remember?”

“I try not to.”

He sighed puffing himself up in preparation for what was about to happen, “Alright, lets do this.”

The human cracked his knuckles and his neck, “Let’s do this.”

*** “What is happening! How can they all have escaped!”

They stood at the center of the control room, their eyes on the cameras, turning in circles as they tried to figure out just exactly was going on. Their establishment was in chaos, and now half of his animals were running rampant without supervision, sometimes attacking each other, and sometimes causing mayhem with his infrastructure.

“There are 41 cages open. Which makes 90 animals released, and we have recaptured five.”

“Only 85 more to go.” They snapped, “How could this have happened, there is no way to open their doors from the inside.”

“There is evidence that they were tampered with manually from the outside.”

The little hologram flickered and the head keeper snarled in disgust, “Was it one of the keepers.”

There was a sharp hiss as another one of the holograms appeared.

“We might have found the genesis of all the problems.”

“Go on.”

There was a sudden flare and one of the cameras turned on the Duos enclosure and zoomed in to the top part of the cage. At first it was difficult to make out what was going on, and then he saw it: the large hold that had been bent in the bars.

“The Duos escaped first it seems.” They began, “And with its hands it could have easily opened the cages.”

“But those cages were pattern locked!”

“I don't know if you know this, but you can see the door to the next cage over from the viewing window. If the creature watched you and saw…. It might have been able to reproduce it.” The head keeper stomped about the floor in anger, “Alright, alright, get to work. Find the Duos and the other and get everything back into shape. I want this all cleaned up before opening tomorrow.

The holograms clicked off, and they were left only with the dim blue light of the other camera feeds to cover them. That was when they heard the noise.

IT was soft at first, just a gentle padding over the floor behind them, and with a sudden sense of dread they turned in their spot coming almost face to ace with a leering shape from the darkness.

In the half light, the Duos face was a malevolent well of shadow and light, shadow pooling around the eyes while blue light cast sharp contrast in through its cheeks.

At it’s back hung the Planita staring at him with it’s large orange, prismatic eyes.

He froze.

The duos simply stood there for a long moment, very still.

He tried not to move knowing that one spit of it’s toxic breath would be the end.

Something seemed wrong about the way it moved, when it stepped towards him it’s back was straight, its movement was sure. The jittery skittish behavior it had shown earlier was no longer, leaving behind only the glittering white eyes and the sharp white teeth.

It opened its mouth saliva glittering on the protruding bone.

They couldn't hear it make it’s vocalizations as high as they were, but watched in awe as the small plantlike creature spoke back.

The creature walked around them light glittering overt the metal fame that encased it.

It took his potion before the console, and withing a few moments had somehow managed to summon the controls.

It must have been watching them from the darkness.

They tried to take a step back, but the head snapped around and the Duos bared it’s teeth one green eye burning bright.

They froze.

THe Does reached forward and with another small conversation between it and the creature, it began fiddling with the controls.

Lights around the park shut off, water stopped running, electricity was powered off, and finally, all the cage doors were opened.

The creature turned to look at them as they stared in horror as the park was overrun in a matter of seconds.

The creature barred its teeth, and they didn’t need to be able to speak the creature’s language to know that was an expression of triumph. Looking into the wide green eyes, they suddenly realized their mistake.

This was no animal….

There was too much intelligence glittering behind those eyes for that to be the case.

IT was sentient.

And they had trapped it in a zoo

Gods help them.

They closed their eyes, expecting the creature to exact it’s revenge, but instead there was another pattering noise, and they opened their eyes to turn and watch the thing slip through the outer door and to freedom.

The duos was loose, and there was nothing they could do about it.

***

Sunny and the others stood at the center of a sea of watching eyes. Their host, as of yet unnamed, stood before them.

IT looked like a burg, sort of though instead of a muddy brown carapace with brightly colored limbs, it had a shiny black carapace like a beetle, with large yellow eyes, and wriggling antenna. The strangest thing about it was the wings, they were large an rested down along the creature’s back covered in colorful swirling patterns.

None of them had ever seen anything like it.

Sunny held up her spear.

“What do you want.”

“I just want to talk.” It said, the voice was soft despite the mandibles, and though it spoke Burg, the voice in itself was not unpleasant, “I need your help.”

“Who are you!” Sunny demanded.

The creature clicked it’s mandibles and held out it’s arms. Behind it, the large butterfly-like wings spread out to either side, the membrane delicate enough to allow the glowing green light from the mushrooms to diffuse through the membrane.

“I am Zaran, King of the burg.”

WIth that declaration, more weapons were raised pointed directly at the burg’s chest.

He held up his hands,

“Please, I mean you no harm.”

“You’re a burg! Of course you do!” Thomas snapped from somewhere in the back.

The Burg sighed and dropped his head, “Yes, we do give that impression don’t we, but it wasn’t always like that.”

Sunny did not lower her weapon but paused, “What do you mean.”

All around them, the colorful winged burg shifted in their places, though none of them seemed particularly hostile.

Zaran raised a hand and motioned about the room, “What you see here is what fragments remain of the male population in the burg capital.”

“Male? WHat are you talking about. I thought that-”

“All of them are female, all the ones you would have met anyway.”

Sunny stared at him, “But their voices.”

“Have no bearing on which sex a burg is.” The Burg king turned his back on them and stepped over the stones wings fluttering gently, “You see, that is how the burg have always functioned, as hives with a higher population of female workers. They are stronger, faster and more durable to be able to scavenge for us. They are our warriors and our providers. More of them are born every ear than we are. The split is an almost ten two one female to male ratio.” he turned to look at them, “The only reason we have been kept around for so long is that we are required in the reproduction chain.”

“So you're the burg king because….” Ramirez trailed off in disgust.

“The queen does favor me yes.” His wings shifted a bit, “But it was not always like this. The queen has reigned for over 400 years…..” He dropped his head, “No one could have known that she would have demonstrated such spite and hate.”

“Wait, 400 years! I thought burg only lived to be about 100.”

“The queen can live much longer if she is taken care of properly.” He motioned around the cave, “As can we, though I am the only one old enough to remember the prior regime. Our old queen was hard, she had to be, but she was also fair and just. This queen…. She was spoiled as a pupae, and I think that may have ruined her forever. She always had a sadistic streak. Her policies always toed the line to being inappropriate. We should have known this would happen when she voiced her ideas about how we had no real use other than for reproduction. When the last queen died under suspicious circumstances, we were quickly rounded up and placed here.”

There was a silence.

then .

“So you have been tapped in this cave for over 400 years!”

“Yes. I have been any way. I am let out every month or so to…. Help the queen, but other than that I have been here for much of that time. Unfortunately for me I have seen many friends come and go as they are not cared for as well as I. I do whatI can, but there is only so much I have managed.”

Mav and Ramirez looked between each other, and Sunny continued on, “You’re telling me that burg were not always like this. Vengful and hateful and… and-”

He shook his head, “No, no! The burg were always easily offended, yes but we challenged each other to games of chance, not wars. Loyalty was one of our greatest strengths. However the female population does not live so long as the queen herself, and in only a few generations she was able to brainwash all of her followers into behaviors that were not part of us. She turned them to hate and anger and suspicion. She encouraged their infighting, and she destroyed our religious traditions.”

They listened in awe and in sadness for this creature.

“Once upon a time that would have been my duty, as a religious leader and a diplomat for conflicts. That is why there has always been a king, to temper the aggressive tendencies of a queen.”

“Have your queens always looked like jaba the hutt.” Cannon elbowed thomas in the side, and Sunny felt a pang of sadness wash through her. Why did Thomas have to act so much like Adam sometimes.”

The king may not have understood the reference, but he seemed to understand the meaning, “Well…. Not exactly. Due to the way she is being fed, she never exactly exited her larvae form. Generally a queen is one of the only burg females that will ever have wings through…. The need to be cared for just right for that transformation to happen, though that is beside the point. Now that you know my story, I need you to help me.”

The group looked around at each other and nodded, “What do you need… your highness.”

“I want to return to the Burg nation to their former glory. I want us to be what we once were, and I want to overthrow a tyrant.” He shuffled his feet awkwardly, “That is the first time I have said something like that outloud,” He looked up at them, “The queen has been killing any who might be considered her replacement. All the females born who could be considered a new queen are quietly taken and killed, but I know of one, She is still in her egg, but upon seeing her, I knew what she might be. The others have no idea, but I do. If you can get that egg and protect it, we can Kill the queen and install a new ruler. The workers would have to follow her, they are programmed to do so, and if you install me as an advisor to the young queen, maybe I can impart the past on her. Change the way things are around here.”

There was silence for a moment, and then.

Sunny struggled inwardly. She still blamed the burg for what had happened, but now that she had the whole story, it seemed as if they were just as much a victim as the people they had attacked.

She couldn’t just ignore that.

Finally she broke the silence, “Alright, we will help you. Where can we find the egg?”

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im-totally-not-an-alien · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy prompts no 53

1. Cloud is immortal and has lived for tens of thousands of years. He has watched his friends and enemies get reincarnated over and over again. He would always interfere and save the day when things got bad, prompting legends and myths of a golden haired hero with glowing blue eyes who swore to return whenever the world was in peril.

But thats not the end.

He took great care to find his friends and keep an eye on them, watching over them as a guardian angel of sorts. When he came across Sephiroth again, he expected a battle, but seeing the dull eyes of a broken teenager staring up at him as he layed battered and bruised by his own parents? It made him realize that Sephiroth wasn't born evil.

The blond added Sephiroth to his list of people to protect.

Cloud often removed Sephiroth from the abusive households he was born into by exposing the parents for their crimes and harassing them as an anonymous individual.

Once the silverette was out of the home he would manipulate circumstances so that he would come to live with Zack or one of his other former friends.

Once he hit a certain age, he would find people Sephiroth was romantically compatible with and play puppeteer until one of them married the silverette. Cloud had done this so many times that he practically became an expert. Strangely, in the recent past lives the marriages ended in amicable divorce. He didn't know what he did wrong, so the blond began expiramenting with Sephiroths "types" again, trying to find a perfect match.

This life however, Sephiroth refused to so much as hold hands with someone romantically and Cloud is about ready to rip his hair out in frustration.

The man walked down a busy street, thinking about what to do next when Sephiroth himselfed grabbed his arm.

Startled, Cloud stared up at him.

"It's you." Sephiroth muttered reverently, as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

Cloud never made contact with these people, he had learned his lesson after the fifth time he lost Zack. He let them live out their lives, only interfering to stop something negative from happening. The blond never showed Sephiroth his face since his ninth life.

So how did Sephiroth know who he was?

2. Cloud nearly giving Denzel "The Talk"

3. Denzel accidentally calling Cloud "Dad", calling Tifa "Mom", and Marlene "my sister" until he was eventually like, screw it, and called them that without hesitation

4. Denzel got in trouble at school for beating up a group of boys that were bullying another kid.

He gets suspended and Cloud takes him out for an awesome ride on Fenrir as a reward, followed by fighting lessons from both him and Tifa, then ice cream.

5. Au where Hollander was murdered by Hojo long ago. Degradation is running rampant through Shinras SOLDIER program, killing several and weakening many more.

Genesis is determined to find a cure, after all, his life is on the line. He's eventually cornered by Angeal and Sephiroth, who pull the truth out of him, and begin aiding him in his search.

They discover AC Cloud, who is from a different dimension/timeline whose very body contains the cure.

Cloud was no longer human, and had developed new organs of unknown purpose, his body having disposed of the unnecessary organs such as lungs, gallbladder, and pancreas, and modifying the ones it kept, such as the digestive track. The catch? Now he needed to feed on large amounts of natural Mako every month to survive.

Genesis sees no problem with this and asks for the blond to save them. Cloud, however, refused, not knowing what was happening to him and knew spreading it would be the bad idea of the century.

Genesis doesn't take "No" for an answer.

Hojo finds out the blond was essentially a second Jenova and had a mini lifestream inside him and becomes desperate to get his claws on him.

6. Jenova haunts Clouds dreams, filling him with dread. Not because she was tormenting him, no. It was the opposite.

In the dreams, she held him like a loving mother. Her gentle embrace warmed him, her soft words brought him comfort, made him confide in her. That's why he was afraid.

Cloud was beginning to love her, and it terrified him.

7. Zack Fair is hereby prohibited from using any form of glitter or glue.

Why? It's Classified.

8. Au where Lazard freed Zack from under the nebilheim mansion, but also dragged him outside, leaving Cloud behind.

He lied to Zack when he woke up, telling him the infantryman was dead. He believed that Zacks chances of survival would be infinitely higher if he left the boy behind, which he would never do if given a choice. So Lazard made that choice for him.

So Zack made it to Midgar on his own.

Cloud was found by Sephiroth months later. The blond had no fight left in him and tried to merge with the other Sephiroth clone, unfortunately since his cells were mutated, Cloud could not merge with Sephiroth.

The silverette had planned to abandon this failed clone until Cloud nuzzle his face against Sephiroths gloved palm. From then on out, Cloud followed Sephiroth everywhere, doing the cooking and the laundry or whatever he could to make himself useful. He would beg the former General not to abandon him, as everyone else had done in the past.

That, admittedly pulled on his heartstings a bit. Sephiroth had also been abandoned and betrayed by his two closest friends. By the company and people he foolishly devoted his entire life to.

So Cloud stayed. His master taught him how to fight, how to care for his gear, and they bonded over shared experiences and silent companionship.

It was during that final battle, where Zack and AVALANCHE slew Sephiroth, that Cloud, hidden somewhere out of sight, swore vengeance against the man who pretended to be his friend, who he believed abandoned him and left him to rot in that hellhole after he had sworn for years that they'd get them both out, that he would save Cloud, (Cause that's what heros do!) only for him to murder the first person other than his mom to ever care about him.

Clouds body held both S and J-cells, and though they may be mutated, he could still call for Reunion. Something Zack couldn't sense due to him being an A-type SOLDIER instead of an S-type like himself.

The blond could cultivate the summoned J-cells and make them multiply under his care. He knew the best revenge was patience, after all, so long as Cloud lived, Sephiroth would never truly die.

All he had to do was stay hidden. Know one could know of him, not that they were looking for a supposedly dead man, even if they were, they would never find him in his hidden underground bunker since no one with more then three brain cells would go near the Northern Crater.

9. Sephiroth drops blatant innuendos and pickup lines all throughout his fight with Cloud, but the blond thinks he's just imagining it.

Seph actually manages to escape that time, but after the fight, his friends point out all the questionable things the silverette said.

Cloud wasn't sure if he should be relieved that he wasn't hallucinating it.

10. Tifa caught Denzel and Marlene "interrogating" a doll that was tied to a tree.

They were hitting it with sticks and yelling, "Who's your source?!" At it.

Needless to say, Reno is no longer allowed to around the children without adult supervision.

11. Kunsel began fiddling with a laser pointer, absent-mindedly tracing large slow circles on an opposing wall. He kept thinking back to all the laser pointer related incidents from the past few weeks until he noticed, much to his horror, that a few of his fellow SOLDIERS in the mess hall were tracking the little red dot with laser focus.

Pun intended.

12. Aerith had long since faded into the lifestream where she belonged, but that's not what this story is about.

Thousands of years have passed since the events of MeteorFall, and Gaia is nearly overflowing with mako energy.

Cloud felt as Gaia began remaking her WEAPONS, and couldn't help but wonder as to why. After about a year of searching he found Vincent again and asked him.

The truth was disturbing. Gaia's lifestream had outgrown the planet, and was preparing a new Omega WEAPON to suck the life out of this one and travel back to the "Mother planet"

Cloud eventually found out about Gaias plans for him by eavesdropping on conversation between Gaia herself and the Cetra from the "Mother planet". You see, Cloud has a unique relationship with the planet. He was modified using Jenovas Eldrich powers, and over time, developed his own. The blond allowed Gaia to use his body/very being as a sort of ward against all things Eldrich, and has worked spectacularly well.

Gaia planned to keep him alive as she traveled through the cosmos. That wouldn't be a problem, no the problem was that she planned to encase him in crystal and keep him there for the rest of eternity. When the Cetra mentioned breeding him so that other planets would have a ward, he nearly gagged.

He told Vincent about everything and admitted he was afraid. The only reason he remained sane all these years was because he could travel and have new experiences. He couldn't do that if he was trapped.

Vincent suggested a rocket, to which the blond revealed that Gaia herself always sabotaged the rockets and space programs. For obvious reasons. They were stuck and didn't know what to do now that it was literally them against the world. So when Vincent suggested reviving Mako energy and the SOLDIER program until they could find a way off of Gaia, Cloud didn't dismiss it.

13. Another summoning gone wrong Au where Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud who are in the normal modern universe and are lovers in a poly relationship, decide to mess around with a spellbook Zack picked up in a shop. They were saying spells out loud and making fun of them, they also did the wierd little ceremonies and made "potions" and had a good time.

Nothing happened, until they woke up the next morning to the chocobo frantically patting them awake with his hands, stunned silent.

There, in their king sized bed, were their trans-dimensional alter-egos, done up with swords and pauldrons and...is Sephiroth wearing a fetish outfit? Said silverette poked his alter-ego with a ruler a few times to confirm he was out cold.

What were they supposed to do now?

14. Final Fantasy 7 and LoZ: Breath of the Wild crossover

Cloud lands in a new reality, but he's too focused on trying to fight the new breeds of monsters and surviving the desert heat to ponder the situation for long

And then there's all those things that keep trying to electrocute him...Clouds not having a good day.

On the other hand he has plenty of things to take his anger out on.

Also, Cloud meeting a horse! Which are critically endangered on Gaia!

15. Genesis finds Cloud post DoC and begins taunting him, but gasps dramatically when he learns the blond has never tasted Banoran apples/apple products. He drags Cloud along to get a taste. Weirdly, they get along.

#cloud strife #sephiroth #sefikura #ff7 #zack fair #sephiroth+x+cloud #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 story prompts #ff7 prompts #final fantasy 7 story prompts #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy story prompts

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3pirouette · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: An Experimental Design (9/10)

Title: An Experimental Design

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts. Takes place about a week after that fic.

Chapter Summary: Howard figures out what’s going on with Steve and comes up with a short-term solution

Chapter 9: The Lion

Howard looked back and forth between them, eyes shifting quickly. He was still disheveled from rushing over in the dead of night. He wasn’t used to being woken up at 2 AM by his friend in a panic, and it had unnerved him.

What he was met with was not the sight he expected.

The nervous, upset Steve he’d talked to on the phone was slowly transforming in front of his eyes. The anxious man he’d met at the door was now staring him down from the couch across from him, careful to never let Howard all that close to Peggy.

Peggy, hastily dressed as well, her hair falling in a disarray Howard wasn’t used to seeing, sat next to him, unable to stop fidgeting.

Steve eyed Howard, and rumbled low in his chest.

“Did you…” he did a double take, turning to Peggy. “Did he just growl?” Howard’s voice squeaked and he leaned back in his chair, eyes wide.

Peggy pressed her hand on Steve’s shoulder, and even though it wasn’t skin to skin contact, it seemed to calm him. “Can you see why we have a problem?”

Howard nodded, eyes still wide. “How long’s he been like this?”

Peggy shook her head. “Since before this morning. It’s—”

“No,” Steve interrupted. He squinted his eyes shut, running his hands over his face and shaking his head. When he opened his eyes again it was like the fog had lifted a little, like he’d managed to fight it off. “I was fine this morning. I felt great actually. Better than I had since this whole thing started, really.”

Peggy looked at him, surprised. “Why didn’t you say? I thought you weren’t feeling anything?”

He shrugged, bashful, but then an intensity took over that seemed somewhat out of place as he reached for her cheek. “How could I say I was feeling great when you felt horrible?”

Howard tried to catalogue Steve’s rampant mood swings as he attempted to put together what in the hell was happening. “You didn’t feel good, Peg?”

She took Steve’s hand from her cheek and held it in both of her own in her lap. “No. I felt awful. Headache, vomiting, tired...” She chuckled mirthlessly, “Basically everything you’d thought I’d feel.” Peggy leaned on Steve’s arm, hiding a yawn before turning back to Howard. “I managed a nap and felt a little better, but by the time Steve woke up he was already not quite himself.”

Howard let out a heavy breath, fingers pulling at his moustache as he looked back and forth between the two of them.

Steve couldn’t take the man’s prolonged silence. “What?”

“I’m trying to decide who I’d rather take a punch from…”

Peggy crossed her arms and set her shoulders, admonishment clear in her voice. “Howard…”

“You took a nap, right, Steve?” Steve nodded, eyes still alternately clearing and fogging over as he tried to stay focused. “Well, when you sleep your body heals faster. I’d guess that your body actually cleared all of the hormones we gave you while you were asleep. We’d have to test to be sure but…”

Peggy started carefully, “Then why is he acting like a possessive neanderthal? Shouldn’t he be back to just his current normal, slightly possessive, lust crazed state?”

Howard winced, waiting as long as he could before he let the suspicion tumble from his lips. “Well… I think you smell, Peg.”

“Excuse me?” Peggy demanded angrily. She and Steve both sat taller and Howard flinched back, fully expected one of them to swing at him.

He slowly leaned forward once he was reasonably sure he was safe from any stray punches, his explanation sounding almost like an apology. “The hormones we gave you, very specifically for a woman, mimic pregnancy. You’re probably giving off huge amounts of very specific pheromones right now and he’s…” Howard’s hands flailed in the air, trying to get them to the same conclusion he’d come to without saying it explicitly.

Steve’s head dropped into his hands, his fingers scrubbing over his scalp. “Howard…” he lamented, frustrated and tired.

Peggy let her hand scrub over his back, looking over at Howard with daggers in her eyes. “What in the world would make you think doing that would be a good idea?”

Howard shook his head, frustrated himself. “Believe me, we didn’t think this would happen, Steve strutting around like a lion protecting his mate. We thought he’d get at least a day, if not a few, out of it, and if your hormones stabilized, his would follow.”

Steve looked up, eyebrows knit tight. “But pregnant, Howard?”

Howard shrugged. “Worked for Peggy, didn’t it?”

Steve just let his head fall back to his hands. “So, what do we do?” he mumbled, head still hung low. “I can’t follow her around like some overprotective jerk forever.”

Howard cleared his throat, the tightness in his jaw a clear signal he really didn’t have an exact answer. He stuttered and flailed his hands for a moment in a few false starts before sighing and shrugging. “We can’t separate you- you already took out a wall and that was before you were growling at me.” Howard looked at Peggy, eyebrows raised high. “Can you suffer him like this?”

Howard might not have seen it, but Peggy saw Steve’s wince. She let her hand run gently over his back. “I’m sure you know by now we’re both all in for whatever is coming next.”

Howard nodded. “I’ll get a nurse over here to get some blood samples and then I’ll reach out to my guy. But…” he shook his head and stood, moving over to the phone. “Best case scenario right now is we try to even your hormones out and hope Steve doesn’t take down a zebra, or the milkman, until that happens.”

~*~

By sunrise, the nurse had come and gone and Howard had already been back, poking Peggy with what he assured her was at least a temporary fix. He hadn’t even offered to try to give Steve any, saying that his body cleared it too quickly for it to be any kind of answer right now.

Curled up in the corner of the couch, she was at least grateful that she wasn’t sick to her stomach anymore. Her mug was long since empty, but she still turned it in her hands, letting her nails tap along the ceramic as she waited for Steve to emerge from the bathroom. After Howard left, he’d mumbled something about taking a shower and had disappeared. The shower had been shut off for ages, and she hadn’t heard any of his normal knocking about in long, quiet minutes.

She should get up, make something to eat, but she didn’t feel like it. She couldn’t feel much, in fact. She felt a little hollow, unmotivated, and still so very, very tired.

Steve opened the door to the bathroom, looked at her, and moved past to the bedroom, holding the towel around his waist tight, his eyes avoiding her.

She could feel his pain. Whatever was between them was doing that. It allowed then just a sense, but even the smallest sense was enough. He was hurt, and embarrassed, and sad. He felt like he’d failed her, and it made her chest tighten. She didn’t know how to soothe him, because she wouldn’t be treated like his toy or his conquest or whatever else his Neanderthal brain had decided she was. But she didn’t like to see him hurt, and his pain made her own sense of listlessness worse.

She tapped her nails on the mug again, eyes unfocused on the floor as she heard him moving around, getting dressed. She heard the mattress creek under his weight and then nothing but the occasional soft breath.

She didn’t recall making a conscious decision to go to the bedroom, but more like she felt the need, a pull from deep in her gut.

Peggy wanted to know what was her and what was this damned serum, but she’d spent far too much time trying to separate the feelings and found it didn’t much matter anymore what motivated her.

What mattered was when she stepped into the bedroom and found Steve sitting on the side of the bed, his head in his hands and his eyes red rimmed, he didn’t push her away when she lifted his chin and he hugged her close when she sat in his lap. When she pulled him down to the bed, he silently followed her lead, stripping them down to nothing and cocooning them in the bedsheets, every inch of skin touching and their heartbeats slowing and syncing as they both fell asleep, a sense of peace blooming deep in her stomach, even with so much still left to work out.

~*~

Dugan kicked his feet up on the bench in Stark’s lab. The scientist stared at the soldier, but he just smiled back. “You’re here… why?” Stark asked, trying to go back to his notes.

“I’m here because we need another avenue.” Dugan twirled his moustache, staring at the man’s back. “Phillips is on my back, I can’t go any faster than those translators can go, most of what they get us has been bullshit anyway, and we’re running out of ideas.”

Howard shot him a dirty look and pushed his notebook to the side. “What makes you think I have any better ideas?”

“Well, for one,” Dugan kicked his feet to the floor and put his elbows on his knees, “You’re the smartest guy on this base. And for two, we need Steve back if we want any hope in hell of getting ahead of Hydra.”

Howard shot the man one of his best fake smiles, “While flattery would normally get you everywhere,” he dropped the pretense and tossed his notebook at Dugan and the soldier fumbled the catch, “I don’t have anything. I have a hell of a lot of data that tells me almost absolutely nothing. I can’t fix it. I can’t change it without making Steve go Berserk or Peggy have so much pain she should be dead.” Howard slumped in his chair. “If you got any ideas, I’m open to ‘em.”

Dugan flipped through the notebook, knowing none of it would make sense to him. He looked back up at Stark. “You really don’t have another plan?”

“Aside from handcuffing the two of them together?”

Dugan smiled. “Not the worst plan I’d ever heard.”

Howard was quiet for a moment, then his eyes widened, focusing on something only he could see as his brain started to work out the problem. “Yeah… not the worst plan…”

~*~

“We should eat,” Steve mumbled, nosing at the hair at the base of Peggy’s neck.

She hummed, snuggling back into his arms. “Perhaps.”

They’d been awake for quite some time, but despite all the things they kept saying they should do, neither could find the will, or the strength, to get out of the bed. The best answer, somehow, was the simplest: touch. It calmed them both, relaxed them both, and though it gave them no long-term answers, they agreed that torturing themselves by staying away or by fighting, by letting whatever was going on in their bodies take over, was simply out of the question.

Peggy’s stomach picked that precise moment to growl, the rumble reverberating through Steve, too. He laughed, and then pulled away reluctantly.

Peggy rolled, watching him slip on his shorts as he stood. She sighed as he turned back to her. “I’m still not sold on getting out of bed.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “Breakfast… or brunch, I guess, in bed.”

She felt like she’d just blinked her eyes shut when the mattress dipped and he was back, sitting at her hip with an over-ripe banana, a scrawny apple, and some packets of cheese and crackers that looked like they came straight from K Rations. He spread the bounty out in front of her as she sat up, slipping his undershirt on over her head and pulling the blankets around her waist. “Take your pick.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she picked up the apple. “What a fine feast.”

He shrugged, his eyebrows moving as much as his shoulders as he grabbed the banana. A flush moved up his chest and into his cheeks as he pealed it, “Gotta take care of my lioness.”

Peggy stopped halfway into biting her apple and smiled at him, even though his eyes were set hard on his own piece of fruit. “You do, my darling.” He peeked at her from the side of his eyes, but didn’t look all the way up. “And I have to say, I’m much happier with this than with a zebra. I have no desire to do all that butchering and cooking.”

His laugh wasn’t a full out guffaw, but it was more than a chuckle and it was music to her ears. It felt too long since she’d heard that sound. “Are you feeling better? You seem…” She didn’t finish, but met his eyes as he sat up taller and looked at her.

“Yeah,” he smiled softly, looking back down at his banana that he had yet to bite into. “Still a little foggy here and there, still have that… that voice in the back of my brain, but it’s better.” He bit into the banana, more to try to buy himself time to set his thoughts in line than because the browning flesh looked appealing at all. He swallowed hard. “It’s, uh… a little embarrassing.”

Peggy spoke around her mouthful of apple, eager to cut him off before he said another word. “If you apologize again, I might scream.” She swallowed quickly and shifted, her hand on his arm to get him to look at her. “Everything about this situation is embarrassing, Steve.” She shrugged, her own face reddening as she let her own feeling slip though. “Neither of us likes being vulnerable to start. It’s different… seeing one of us shot or limping around a battlefield- it’s not the same as me vomiting over the side of the bed or having our emotions laid bare for Howard to sift through. Having to bare ourselves to one another was bound to happen at some point, given we’ve pretty much decided to…” She coughed and looked away. They weren’t exactly engaged, but it felt as much in her head.

She was glad his voice was teasing; he could have very easily turned things heavy again and she just couldn’t take any more of that. “If you think I’m not making an honest woman of you after all this…”

She laughed and leaned against him, “Well, in that event, this wasn’t the first time you’ve seen me vomit and it undoubtedly won’t be the last.” She felt more than heard his chuckle and went back to biting into her small apple.

He shook his head as his eyes unfocused in memory. “Yeah, there was that time when we were stuck in France.”

She bit her apple again, shuddering at the memory, “Why any of you weren’t sick is still a mystery to me. You all ate the same stew I did.”

“We didn’t drink the water, though. Dugan convinced everyone else to have beer.” Steve shook his head. “Every time we thought you’d manage to finally stop, your body just found more to get out there. I had no idea your body could hold that much, Peg.”

“It obviously couldn’t, which is why I was spewing it out in the first place.” She shook her head, bumping him in the side as she picked up a packet of cheese and crackers. “Now, please stop talking about vomiting. I’d very much like to enjoy my rations in peace.”

~*~

It was three days with no word before Howard finally called to say that he would be over within the hour. In that time, a parade of nurses had come through, taking their blood and vitals over and over again, and Steve and Peggy settled into something akin of a daily routine.

They touched, they made love, and they tried to take advantage of whatever this time afforded to them meant.

It wasn’t that well tested, as they tended to touch more than not, but Peggy hadn’t felt even a tingle of pain since the shots. It seemed they had an answer, at least for her pain if not Steve’s mood swings, and that gave the Army and the SSR options.

They hadn’t heard a word or a whisper from Phillips or the Commandos, and Peggy was prepared to be shipped out back to London at any moment for Bletchley or worse, to be dishonorably discharged.

Steve swore up and down he wouldn’t let that happen, or that he’d threaten to leave with her, but she was pragmatic enough to know neither of them really had all that much choice in the matter.

When Howard did show up, he smiled like he was the cat that swallowed the canary. “Hey guys!”

He pushed past Steve, eyes just a little wild. “How ya been?”

Steve pushed the door closed slowly as Peggy starred him down in disbelief. “How have we been? Howard, how have we-?” She laughed. “Abysmal! Howard we’re sitting here, hearing nothing, being told nothing, and you waltz in here—”

Howard grabbed her and spun her around in a poor approximation of a waltz, Peggy still incensed in his arms. “Well, I mean, you gotta be at least a little better. Nurses said you haven’t had an ounce of pain in days, and Cap didn’t take me out like a lion hunting a gazelle yet.”

Steve, hands on his hips and chin set tight, strode over to them, “I still might, Howard.”

Howard spun Peggy out of his arms and Steve caught her, helping to set her straight before she toppled over. “What has gotten into you?” she wondered out loud, her anger melting more to concern at the man’s antics.

“Well, it hasn’t been sleep, I can tell you that.” Howard blinked his eyes rapidly, the mania behind them all that was keeping him upright. “But I have a short-term solution.”

“Jesus, sit before you fall over, you insane fool.” Peggy grabbed his hand and sat him on their small couch.

Howard fell into the cushions. “I’ve been called worse!” He rubbed his hands over his face and took a deep breath in through his nose. “Let me explain before I pass out, ok?”

Peggy sat next to him and Steve sat across, elbows on his knees. “You said short-term?” Steve asked, face serious.

Howard nodded, his attitude sobering. “I hate to admit it, but until I know exactly what they did to you, the chances of me figuring out how to reverse it are slim.” He dropped his hands and head, shaking it. “Your bodies are going through complex chemical reactions that no one’s ever seen before. Never mind the fact that I don’t even know if I’m looking at the right thing, the right reactions or the right side effects.” He turned maudlin, the lack of sleep shifting his mood. “I swear, I’m gonna keep trying but—”

“We know, Howard,” Peggy set her hand on his arm, and if either of them saw Steve shift uncomfortably, they pretended not to notice. “So, what’s the solution?”

He swallowed hard and sat tall. “Short term.” He pulled a box from his pocket and opened it.

Two bright, shiny, silver bands stared back at them.

Peggy licked her lips. “Marriage seems like a pretty long-term solution to me.”

Howard looked at Peggy, then at Steve’s tight expression, and laughed. “No, no… I mean, I just assumed you guys were headed there… but no. No. This isn’t…” He chuckled again and pulled the larger of the two rings from the case, showing them the inside where the ring proved to be a hollow shell, incasing what looked to be a plastic ring inside. He hit the ring on the small coffee table, the hard knock reverberating. “Super thin vibranium outer shell, incasing a soft silicone ring that’s embedded with hormones. Slow release through the skin means that neither one of you should be overwhelmed and that Steve won’t sleep it off.” He handed Steve the ring he held and Peggy picked up the second from the box. “You’ll have to change out the inner ring probably once every couple of days- maybe every day for Steve, I’m not exactly sure yet.”

“This is vibranium? Like my shield?” Steve ran his hands over the outer thin inner edge of the ring.

Howard nodded. “When I said your shield was all we had left, I meant it. There were only a few ounces of scraps, shavings really, and at the time I couldn’t see any good use for them. Certainly not enough to make any kind of shield or weapon out of. Turns out, just enough for a set of rings.”

He shrugged at Steve’s continued look of bafflement. “Have you ever met you two? You’re hard on just about everything the Army issues you. In theory, I could give you just the silicone ring to wear, or even put it like a patch somewhere on your body, but if the one side of the silicone is exposed the hormones will leach out into anything or anyone you touch- making it a bad day for them and less effective for you. Sure- silver or gold or even titanium would have done the trick- but I don’t trust either one of you to not come back after your first mission and hand it to me broken. At least with the vibranium it should have a little staying power.”

Peggy couldn’t help but laugh at his cockiness. “I’m more likely to lose my finger than the ring, you’re saying?”

He smirked. “Something like that.”

“So, what does this mean?” Steve asked, still touching the ring like it was something dangerous.

“It means you stay here for a day or so while you get used to them, then we let you loose on the base: Phillips is insufferable without you, Peg.” He shrugged, happy. “The you’re back in the field again with a good supply of back up inserts once we know it’s effective.”

Steve’s sigh was telling, Howard and Peggy could both hear the fears he let go in it. “So, they want us back? Active?”

“Yeah. Phillips is chomping at the bit.” Howard stood. “Caveat is you two go everywhere together, at least for now.” He shrugged, pulling a small bag out of his pocket with more of the silicone inserts inside and put it on the table next to the box the rings had been in. “Like I said, this is a short-term solution. If it works… which I think it will… it will only keep things at bay. You’ve both still got whatever the hell it is they put in Peggy doing a number on you, and the only way we know to keep a handle on that is to keep the two of you together.”

Howard sashayed to the door, hands in his pockets. “You know, it was Dugan who gave me the idea… that we should handcuff the two of you together.” Howard pointed at the rings. “Handcuffs, ball-and-chain, same thing, right?” He smiled. “Try ‘em out. I’m gonna go get some sleep.”

Peggy stood, moving to Steve’s side as Howard left as quickly as he’d come. “That man is a menace to science and society,” Peggy murmured.

Steve waited a breath and then turned to her, eyes serious, he held up his ring. “What do you think?”

Peggy looked down at her own ring then back up with a small smile. “I think if it gets us back working, if we can function without having to find an empty office or a supply closet, it’s a good solution for now.”

“For now,” Steve repeated, softly. He spun the circle around and around, thinking so hard Peggy thought he might explode. “It’s a… when I said I’d make an honest woman out of you, I didn’t really think it’d be today.”

Peggy covered his hands with hers, holding tight and waiting for him to look in her eyes. “It doesn’t have to mean all that, if you don’t want it to. We don’t have to wear them like that. Or we call Howard up and ask him to make something else—”

Steve stopped her words with an emphatic shake of his head. “Well, then, what’s the problem?” she asked.

“No, I just….” He smiled a little, still unsure. “Should we get a judge? Somebody?”

Peggy laughed and looked away, taking the ring from his hand before looking back, serious. “While I fully expect a big to-do that my mother can cry at once the war’s over, I think you and me, right here, is enough for now, don’t you?” She smiled up at him, taking his left hand and wiggling his ring over this fourth finger. “What do you say, Captain? Ready to be tied down to this old ball-and-chain?”

He wiggled his finger at her, his own smile growing. “For as long as you’ll have me, Margaret Carter.”

Peggy’s face soured as she slipped the ring on his finger. “Rule one if we’re to be married: Never call me Margaret. Reminds me of when my mother was cross at me, which was nearly all the time.”

“Duly noted, Mrs. Rogers,” he said, wagging his eyebrows at her and getting a quick chuckle as she handed him her ring and her left hand. “And you? You’re ready for this? Really?”

She nodded. “Every moment. Every mission. Every adventure. I’m ready.”

“Right next to me,” Steve acknowledged, his heart in his eyes, as he slipped the ring on her finger. “My best girl and the right partner.”

“The right partner,” Peggy whispered, lifting on tip toe to kiss him.

He pulled away, her lips still close as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “My lioness.”

Peggy kissed him again then tucked her head under his chin, happiness blooming from her belly through her whole body as the events of the last few minutes settled within her. “My lion.”

She had Steve, and she had a solution to what Hydra had done to her, even if it was just a fix for now.

It was all she needed.

#Steggy Bingo Bash #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

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randomoranges · 3 years ago

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these always sound better in my head when i day dream. anyways - again more of an intro ish to this sequence ive had in mind for a while. also something something when youre comfs around someone so something something teasing and something something it being easy etc.

is this also an excuse to lowkey write about the playoffs, étienne being extra and the magical mystical beard? probably.

Bleu comme le St-Laurent

July 3rd 2021

They’d agreed, before his visit, that it would be easier and simpler if he simply took a cab over from the airport, all things considered. Mostly, he’d had to convince Étienne and in the end, his boyfriend had abdicated and agreed to wait for him at home. It meant that he was only a little bit nervous as the cab got closer and closer to Étienne’s place and that the butterflies in his stomach multiplied at every turn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Étienne, but it always felt a little stilted those first few moments after not seeing each other for a bit. Or – at least, it had been before. For as much as he wanted to cherish the time he had with Étienne, especially knowing that it was limited, it always made him take a step back when he saw Étienne again, as if seeing him in person was always slightly to the left of how his brain remembered him.

And then, even though they hadn’t seen each other in a little over two months, it somehow still felt like a lifetime. So much had changed and happened since Étienne had returned home that it could have been decades since he’d last held him in his arms and it would have been the same. Still, he supposed that a little over two months was nothing, in the grand scheme of things, and this time around, they had been in contact practically every day, via either text messages or video chats.

However, those did nothing compared to being able to hold Étienne in his arms.

“On est arrivé,” The driver said and effectively got Edward out of his reverie. He braced himself for whatever version of Étienne would greet him, paid the driver, got out of the cab, and retrieved his bags, before taking a deep breath. It was blissfully, unexpectedly cool out today and it was a pleasant change from the heat wave he’d suffered the past week.

He took out his phone to send a message to his boyfriend to let him know he was there, when he finally noticed, and heard, Étienne descend the few stairs from his front door to run up to him.

“Eddy!” He practically shouted as he approached him. Edward was taken by surprise – by Étienne’s energy, by his unexpected appearance, as though he’d been waiting on the front steps and of course – by his majestic beard.

It was one thing seeing it in photos and videos – another one seeing it in person.

Étienne stopped short a few paces away from him, wide smile on his face, excitement bubbling on the surface and did his utmost best not to rocket launch himself in Edward’s arms. If anything, Edward was surprised he’d managed to show this much restraint and then put down his carry-on to take a step forward and open up his arms, waiting for the impact.

It was all the invitation Étienne needed and soon, Edward found himself with an armful of excited Étienne giving him the tightest of hugs and – how he’d missed this.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Étienne said, moments and maybe hours later, as he pulled back a few inches to look him in the face.

Edward smiled kindly at him and let himself be held for a moment longer. He’d said it once and he’d say it again, but spring and summer truly suited Étienne. He looked – invigorated and healthy and happy and it was such a pleasant change from last time that it settled some anxious part of him that had been worried for him.

Then of course, there was Étienne’s beard. It was well past his chin now and curled in thick coarse hair that felt blissful on his skin.

“And look at you!” He said, finally, finally daring to bring a hand up to his boyfriend’s face and finally, finally getting a chance to touch it.

Étienne crinkled his nose and Edward laughed, “I had forgotten all the things I don’t like about the beard, but I am also quite excited to still have one.” He beamed at that and Edward couldn’t say he hadn’t noticed. It would have been hard not to.

Just in Étienne’s front window, he saw one Habs flag next to another flag with a giant Stanley Cup and all the years the Habs had won written in the white space on both sides. Then, of course, there was the other flag hanging from the front, swaying with the breeze. There wasn’t even a game today and Étienne was still wearing one of his multiple Habs themed t-shirts. Edward couldn’t say he blamed him – it had been twenty-eight years and there was nothing quite like a final playoff rush.

“Y’know, for someone who can actually grow a beard, I’m surprised you never had a phase.”

Étienne let him go to pick up his suitcase and started heading towards his front door, “My phases were and always will be during the playoffs. Too much maintenance, too much trouble, and too much blegh.” He grimaced at that and opened up the door, while Edward laughed at his antics. “Anyways, I’ll go put your stuff in the bedroom and I’ll let you get reacquainted with Mercury – I swear she’s missed you.”

Just as he opened the door, Mercury came barrelling down to see who it could possibly be and when she saw Edward, she went right for him, barking excitedly. Truth be told, he had also missed her incredibly – and not just because he loved dogs in general. Plus, there was also the fact that he had spent most of her first year of life with her.

As Mercury licked his face and tried her best to tackle him to the ground in her excitement, Edward noticed the new decorations to Étienne’s place. He had forgotten just how much paraphernalia Étienne had of his beloved Habs and it seemed as though every last item had been brought out to be displayed. There were trinkets and figurines on every last piece of furniture, framed photos had been put up on the walls and every other household item that came themed in something Habs was there. Then again, Étienne had been a fan of them since day one and it was easy to collect memorabilia when one lived as long as they did and had a team with such history and clout.

“Sorry about that; I forgot how excited she gets,” Étienne said as he returned to the entrance, “Mercury, ça suffit. Laisse-le tranquile.” Surprisingly, Mercury stepped back with a whine and then trotted back to her master’s side. Étienne scratched her behind the ears and she then returned to see Edward, but was calmer.

“Hey you,” Étienne added as he walked over to Edward and gently pulled him in for a softer hug of his own. Now that they were behind closed doors, ensconced safely in Étienne’s home, Edward had no qualms in greeting him properly with a first kiss of many.

“Nice décor,” He teased gently when they pulled away for a moment.

“Excuse-toi; I am simply celebrating this magical run no one literally saw coming for as long as I can.”

Edward grinned, endeared by the way Étienne’s crinkled his nose and the way he frowned at him, as if vexed and insulted. He’d missed this – missed this side of Étienne who went all in for his team – or for something he enjoyed. Missed his over-the top attitude towards the things he loved. Missed being held by him.

“I know, Sweetheart.”

Étienne’s face softened at the pet name and he leaned in for another kiss, which Edward was more than happy to indulge in.

“Missed you,” Étienne murmured from the crook of Edward’s neck.

The hairs from his beard both tickled and thrilled him and not for the first time, he realised just how very long it had been.

“Missed you more.” He added, making his boyfriend chuckle softly.

“Maybe, but not all of us have a second boyfriend we can go to when the first one goes back home,” Étienne pressed another kiss to Edward’s neck and the scrape of his beard against his skin sent shivers down his spine.

“And when has that ever even stopped you before from going after anyone you wanted?”

“There’s a plague running rampant, Edward, I wasn’t about to hook up during a Global Pandemic,” He chided and looked up to his face – all serious like. Edward couldn’t tell if he was teasing him or not, but he was somewhat still surprised by what Étienne had just told him.

“You mean you haven’t – not even once hooked up with anyone since you left Edmonton?”

“Non; I wasn’t going to take any chances,” He admitted and – Edward was really impressed.

“Well, in that case then, it’s a good thing I’m here – I can help remedy that,” He grinned, tugging on Étienne’s shirt a little.

“That sounds like a really good plan. I also have it on good authority that you seem to have a thing for this new look of mine so - lucky us we have a full weekend of catching up before the game on Monday.”

Normally, Edward would have had the decency to look flushed, but that was the old him. “You got me on that, so why don’t you lead the way and we can take care of that as well?”

Étienne laughed and took his hand, before doing just that.

FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko #title comes from a Song #might use more Lyrics of Said Song for Future Parts of whatever This Sequence iS #idk dont look at me

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dearlazerbunny · 5 years ago

Text

If/When/Then

Pairings: Kyoya Ootori x Reader

Genre/Ratings: Five Times trope; G, mentions of severe anxiety

Words: 4200

Summary: Or, five times Kyoya didn’t kiss you (and the one time he did)

WARNING: the last bit gets a little angsty

One

“Kyoya. I swear to god. Can we please just-” you rub your eyes exhaustedly, trying to get the harsh blue glow of your laptop out from under your eyelids- “take a break? Or better yet, call it a night?”

The boy sitting across from you on the sofa glances up, his work reflected in his glasses. “How many words do you have?”

“Kyoyaaaaaaaa-”

“Y/N. How many words?” His tone is partially amused but mostly paternal, like he’s asking a small child how many candies they snuck before dinner. If you weren’t so brain dead it’d piss you off, but as it is you’re mostly just petulant.

“Um… three thousand and… something?”

A slender finger pushes his glasses further up his nose. “And the minimum word count is…?”

“You damn well know,” you mumble, before letting your head drop into your hands. One of your elbows is resting on your keyboard, leaving a long trail of jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjs across your half-finished essay.

“What was that?” A socked foot aims a kick at his shin, but your aim goes wide and he dodges it easily. “I believe the answer is six thousand.”

You give a long, heartfelt groan.

Kyoya sighs. He can easily knock out an essay in under an hour, while you require a little more effort- and a lot more bribery. Even if English is one of your best subjects, he knows sitting here for the past few hours laboring over a boring political comparison has to be dragging on you. And he’s been too caught up in his own work to even try to keep your spirits up- something he’s now regretting, seeing the usual sparkle in your eye dull to something uncharacteristically quiet.

“Here.” He reaches over the edge of his perch and feels for the basket of blankets he knows will be sitting there- his sister has a fondness for being wrapped in a minimum of three layers at all times. Carefully, as so not to disturb his own precious computer, he reaches over and drapes a loose-knit woolen beauty over your lap. He even takes a second to tuck the ends over your toes. You watch, fascinated, so used to his fingers tapping out mile-a-minute documents in a harsh staccato that this moment of softness seems unreal. Maybe you’ve already fallen asleep and are dreaming, or it’s a particularly nice sort of 2AM hallucination. Kyoya notices you staring- of course he does, he notices far too much about you nowadays to try and convince himself he only values you as a friend- and very pointedly looks anywhere but your gaze. He’s not sure he could look away if he caught your eye now, hazy with sleep and reflecting starlight from the nearby open window. “Better?”

“Um- yeah.” You settle a little further into the cushions. “Thanks.”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Of course, when he glances over at you not ten minutes later, you’re fast asleep, laptop precariously close to toppling to the floor. He rescues it and saves your work before shutting it down. There’s a slight smile on your face as you dream, and the overwhelming urge to lean over and press a kiss to your forehead makes Kyoya stop still.

His fixation on you has grown over the past few months, that much is clear, but he hadn’t predicted them to progress this quickly this fast. He has his grades to maintain, a club to run, and a company to prepare for. He shouldn’t have time for silly distractions, like categorizing exactly how peaceful you look curled up next to him, or reaching out and brushing a piece of hair out of your eyes.

He shouldn’t. And yet, he does- he always will, for you.

Two

“Remind me again who said this was a good idea?” You squint your eyes as you turn your face towards the sky, which is lit by a brilliant sun. The Host Club is hosting on location this time- a beautiful stretch of beach peppered by towels, umbrellas, waiters offering fruity drinks, and a couple hundred squealing girls. You know. Relaxing. “I think I might like to punch them.”

“You might talk to Mori about a healthy and productive way to manage your rampant anger issues.” You snort and roll your eyes, which in turn makes the corner of Kyoya’s mouth tick up. He’s under an umbrella nearby, neatly marking down figures on his notepad. “Besides, I thought you liked the water.”

“I do, when it’s not so…” you gesture to the gaggle of twenty or so girls nearby, all primping and twisting in their bikinis to hopefully catch the eye of their favorite host- “crowded.”

“Ah.” He can sympathize with that. The smell of salt and brine takes him back to childhood, with the two of you making castles in the sand and pestering the other with seashell-finding competitions. Beach days were lazy days when your parents couldn’t be bothered to have either of you in the house, but to the two of you they were worth their weight in gold. Today, as he watches you stretch into the heat, his childhood friend is overshone by the you of here and now. You’re gorgeous in a simple one piece more stunning than any of the frills the other guests are wearing and hair in a sea-woven braid dangling down your back. Likewise, the Kyoya of here and now is having some thoughts that his five-year-old self have would never even dreamt of.

“I’m going swimming. If I don’t come back in an hour, tell Tamaki it’s his fault for dragging us all out here.”

“Hm? Oh,” Kyoya clears his throat. “Yes, of course.”

You throw him a glance- is he acting strangely? You can’t quite tell; it might just be the heat- before jogging off towards the waves, well away from the party as a whole.

He watches you go, and thinks about going with you, before a guest trills his name and his attention is dragged back to where he doesn’t want it to be.

At the end of the day, the crowd has left, and the club gets a precious hour or so of pink sky and calm surf to themselves. Hikaru, Kaoru, and Haruhi are searching the shoreline for shells and sand dollars; Mori is hauling damp sand for Honey’s massive sand castle; and Tamaki surveys all of them like a proud father. You and Kyoya are sitting a little away, just close enough to the water to let it kiss your toes. “This is more what I remember,” you murmur, a smile on your face, and Kyoya digs his fingers into the sand so they don’t accidentally wind their way around yours like they want to.

“Oh, here.” You pluck your friend’s glasses from his face and use the towel draped loosely over your shoulders to wipe the lenses. When you hand them back, Kyoya has a bit of a stunned expression on his face, making you giggle. “Sorry. They had salt on them. Seemed like it would annoy you.”

“Indeed,” is what he says, willing his tone to be nonchalant or at least neutral. What he wants to say is, do you remember when we were eleven, and you tried the same thing? You ended up getting knocked over by a wave and lost them in the ocean. I was so mad at you, but I still had to hold your hand on the way home so I wouldn’t fall. You didn’t let me trip. Not once.

If he were a braver, bolder, better person, he’d kiss you right now, and see how you taste like salt and sunshine and memories. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t- he lets the Hitachiin twins, who are sneaking up behind you, douse you in water instead. He lets you shriek at them and take chase, threatening to drown them both, breaking the moment and leaving him sitting by the sea alone to remember what was and what might be.

Three

It’s safe to assume that Valentine’s Day is never a dull affair in Music Room 3.

Everything is decorated with lace and delicate crystal trimmings; the roses are even more bountiful and in every color the human eye can see. The attire is more formal than usual, the cheeks rosier and the lips pinker, and it tends to be the one day when the hosts receive more than give.

Each of their tables is piled high with gifts, cards, baked goods swirled with elaborate frostings. Even though Tamaki keeps insisting that the girls should be the ones receiving sweet nothings, not the hosts, you can tell he’s more than pleased by the growing mound of sentiments slowly dwarfing the other boys’. As it should be, Kyoya supposes.

Honey’s haul is mostly sweets, naturally, and this year Mori also has a surprising armload- apparently one of the only times his admirers hear him speak is when he says ‘thank you’, leading to multiple gifts just so they can hear his voice more than once. Hikaru and Kaoru’s combined mountain looks more like a dragon’s treasure horde than a pile of presents. Haruhi adamantly refused everything until one guest brought her a particularly excellent platter of fish, based on the way she’s been sitting in the corner with her cheeks stuffed for the last twenty minutes.

Kyoya notes all of this with a vague smile, adjusting his calculations and trajectories for the next few months to match the turnout. Valentine’s Day is one holiday he can generally sit out. Sure, there’s a small stack of cards and remember-me’s on the sofa next to him, but his persona as the analytical and aloof host tends to leave him further down in the ranks than the other boys. Which is just fine with him, if he’s being honest- he has manners, but being constantly charming is tiring at best and egregiously aggravating at worst.

“Mother Dearest, it appears you have another card to add to your beautiful collection!” Tamaki flounces over in his wine-colored suit, at least thirty guests in pursuit. “It doesn’t come with a giver, unfortunately- oh! Perhaps you have a secret admireeeeeer!” He wiggles his fingers excitedly and hands over the card with a flourish. “How exciting! A mystery for Valentine’s Day!” His groupies sigh and fan their faces, overcome with the romance and intrigue of it all.

“Thank you, Tamaki,” Kyoya says drily, nimbly plucking the proffered gift from the boy’s fingers. “Please, don’t ignore your guests on my account.”

“I would never! Each and every one of my princesses mean the world to me!” As he and his followers fade back to the other side of the room, Kyoya props his glasses back up on his nose and curiously slides his thumb under the flap of the envelope. It’s a plain white paper, not embellished with hearts or gemstones or ribbon or any of the other garish decorations usually attached to such a thing. The card is similarly simplistic, with only a pencil-sketched heart on the outside and a greeting that reads, “To My Favorite Host.”

Interesting. Perhaps there’s a mystery here after all. He flips it open, not sure what to expect- and immediately has to keep himself from laughing outright. Inside is a crude sketch of two stick figures- one has comically large glasses drawn on its blank face to helpfully distinguish itself as the Kyoya of the pair- and note in chicken scratch: You’re such an asshole, but I guess I love you anyways.

Only one person could be responsible for such a thing. After all, you were never renowned for your artistic talents.

…

“I got your… note.”

You don’t look up from the book you’re paging through out in the courtyard underneath a spectacular old tree. The leaves frame you beautifully against the afternoon sky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm. I found the art particularly museum worthy.”

Now you smile a bit. “Well, you’re a museum worthy sorta guy.”

“Favorite host is quite the compliment.” He’s getting dangerously close to… something; toeing a line he hasn’t touched before, and it’s making his heart race.

“Don’t get too cocky. Mori’s still got like, an eight-pack.”

Kyoya sits beside you, careful to leave several tree roots between you and him. “Why a valentine? I see you every day; you could have just told me yourself.”

“I dunno.” He fixes you with a look, one that says sure, I believe you. You give a halfhearted shrug, shoulder almost brushing Kyoya’s. “I went by the music room. Everyone else had, like, mountains of stuff and I just… felt like you were under-appreciated, that’s all.”

“I see.” A beat passes with nothing but the wind ruffling your hair. “That’s… kind of you.”

Now you do close the gap between the two of you, nudging your knee against his. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

Four

Your laugh, Kyoya thinks, is the best thing he’s ever heard.

You’re draped over the edge of his bed, head towards the floor, giggling wildly to yourself as you mutter an inside joke that only make sense to you. Your cheeks are flushed, and the bottle of alcohol you snuck into Kyoya’s room is sitting a few feet away, half full. He’s had a few sips, but he isn’t much for relinquishing his mental faculties so easily. It’s tempting, though, what with you so lazily tapping his shoulder or nudging his side to get his attention- it’d be so easy to demolish all his carefully crafted walls and drown in you.

But someone has to be the responsible one- and if he’s honest with himself, the thought of you or he regretting what happened in the dead of night come light of day makes him sick to his stomach. So he sits primly against his headboard, the computer on his lap a boulder pinning him to his spot, only glancing at you every so often to make sure you haven’t tumbled off the bed completely, despite your absolutely intoxicating mood coaxing him closer and closer to throwing caution to the wind.

“-and you’re just… you’re just a good person,” you continue, meandering through your thoughts. “Like, seriously. Why do you have to be so amazing. It’s so goddamn annoying.”

He desperately hopes you’re too out of it to notice the reddening of his own cheeks. “I am hardly what anyone would call ‘good.’”

“Lies! Lies. And. Slander.” You emphasize every word with a poke to various parts of his body- his big toe, his elbow, his knee. “Like- okay. What are you working on right now?”

In actuality he’s browsing through the Ootori Group’s latest research and development journals, evaluating their recent findings and sifting the unimportant from the extraordinary. But you’re most likely far too gone to actually understand any of that, so instead he just generalizes: “refining new data from the company.”

“Yeah! You wanna be a fucking doctor, that’s like- that’s amazing!”

Kyoya quirks an eyebrow. “You do realize my entire family is in the medical profession.”

“No, your entire family throws their money at the medical profession.” You wave a finger in the air like a drunk scientist hypothesizing their theories. “There’s a difference.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“No, listen you jerk!” You haul yourself up and place yourself face-to-face with your best friend, close enough that Kyoya can see the intensity in your eyes. “It’s one thing to pay for shit, it’s another to actually be in the room when someone is having a heart attack and wanting to save their life. You care. More than anyone I know. And that makes you amazing.” You let out a rush of air, the sudden verve in your words having worn you out. “I dunno. Maybe that doesn’t make any sense. Whatever. I’m gonna lay down.” You curl up next to his knee and half heartedly arrange a blanket around your legs before falling asleep.

Meanwhile, Kyoya’s gaze has never left your face. The words may have been spoken by a loose tongue, but anyone could hear the honesty in your voice and see the passion in your eyes. You really think that much of him? Or rather, could you possibly think as much of him as he does of you?

He wishes he could shake you awake and ask you to elaborate. He wishes he could tell you that if he’s amazing, you’re a supernova. He wishes he could get drunk and fall asleep next to you while pressing lazy kisses anywhere he can reach.

His reaches for the bottle, but his fingers barely brush the glass before changing course and clicking off the lamp instead.

Five

God, I hate these things, you think to yourself as you tug on the straps of your dress. You’re not quite sure if you’re referring to the pins sticking your scalp, the uncomfortable formal gown you’re squeezed into, or the entire event in general- actually, it’s most likely all of the above. As much as you love Kyoya and the rest of the boys, you adamantly refuse to attend any of their grand balls. You’re not a fussy person, so the general pompous air of the things always gives you a headache, and you hate wearing dresses anyways. But today you zipped yourself into a slinky black sheath number that’s long enough to hide tennis shoes under the hem, forced your hair into something presentable, and even threw on a little mascara.

Because of Kyoya.

Kyoya, who mentioned in passing that this was the best celebration he’d ever planned, and seemed extremely proud of it to boot. Kyoya, who always grumbles as he slips on his suit, wishing he could spend the night with his charts and figures instead. Kyoya, who always returns to school the next day more stressed than usual, a tight smile plastered on his face as he fends off hordes of fangirls.

The things you do for this boy.

It’s immediately clear when you arrive that you stand out in your ebony gown, a wisp of smoke and night sky amongst a sea of flouncy pastels. Luckily, each of the boys steps up to greet you- a sweet hug from Honey, carefully avoiding wrinkling your dress; good natured teasing from the twins; a particularly extravagant complimentary poem from Tamaki. Eventually you meet Haruhi at the table laden with food, grateful for someone down to earth to laugh with.

After an hour, you’re almost convinced Kyoya finally worked up the nerve to skip the event altogether when there’s a delicate gap on your shoulder. “Would you care for a dance?”

“No,” you say, because that’s what you always say when Kyoya asks you to do something (even if he knows you’ll do it anyways). He smiles and takes your elbow, ignoring the whispers and glares from the other guests- who is she? What makes her so special? Everything, he wishes he could tell them. So many things he it would take him years to count them all.

“I thought you hated these things,” he says when you’re safely tucked in his arms on the dance floor. The fabric of your dress shimmers softly, as though marking you as something uniquely precious amongst all the other attendees.

“I do,” you reply. You’re slowly taking his lead, following the waltz music played by a six-piece orchestra. “But I think you hate them more, so I figured if anything I could help put you out of your misery.”

“Hm. Poisoned boutonnière, perhaps?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiding up in the rafters with a blowdart gun.”

Kyoya chuckles, sweeping you along. You’re not a bad dancer, all things considered. “I appreciate the thoughtfulness, though that might be difficult given your choice of attire.”

You grin at him playfully, raising your hem up just enough so he can see your battered old sneakers on your feet. “Nah, I always come prepared.”

It’s such an odd juxtaposition- this beautiful girl in the sinful dress accessorizing with sharpie-covered shoes that are peeling rubber- he can’t help but laugh, a real laugh, perhaps the first one he’s given since the night began. Even out of your element, you still maintain something that is so quintessentially you. He wishes he could tell you how beautiful you look. He wishes he could nudge your sneaker with his dress shoe in a secret invitation to follow him somewhere quiet, to steal small fleeting moments that would make the whole night worth its while.

He thinks about this every time you scuff your feet, hearing the slight squeak of rubber against the polished tile floor.

And the beginning…

“Stop it, Kyoya,” you grit out through a clenched jaw, using all your strength to unfold your friend’s fingers from his bloody palms. His fingernails have dug so far into the skin they’ve left bright red crescent moons dotting his hands. You focus on those, trying to soothe the sting with the fabric of your shirt, because if you look at his face and the tears crawling down his cheeks you’ll start crying too, and that’s not what either of you need right now. “Just talk to me. Please.”

No response. He’s trembling as though there’s a blizzard only he can feel, so you sit him on your bed and wrap him in every blanket you have, leaving his hands free so he can clutch at yours like a lifeline. “Just focus on me, okay? Everything is fine.” You try to keep your voice steady as you murmur anything reassuring you can think of, trying to coax life back into his eyes. You knew his anxiety had gotten worse, but this… this is the most catastrophic yet. You sit cross legged in front of him, so close your knees brush his, and hold onto his fingers for dear life. “Keep breathing. I’m here. It’s all okay.” Please please please come back to me. Come on, Kyoya. Don’t let the demons win.

Slowly, piece by piece, something in him seems to uncoil. His grip lessens just a little, and his breathing becomes audible enough to reassure you he’s still with you. Gently, you put a hand to his forehead, then cheek, testing his temperature. “Hey. You with me?”

Something like a sob escapes his lips, thin and heartbroken. Your own shatters along with it. In an instant you have him in a hug, arms as tight around him as you can possibly manage. Kyoya tucks his head into the crook of your neck, practically collapsing on top of you until you aren’t sure where he stops and you start. He says your name over and over and over again, a hymn only he can hear. You press your lips to his temple just to reassure yourself he hasn’t left you and let him cry; only able to offer comfort in presence and spirit. “Thank you,” he murmurs against your skin, and you hold him tighter.

“I’m always here. You know that.”

He sniffs and wipes away a tear with the heel of his hand, wincing when the salt burns his cuts. “Idiotic. I apologize for… all of this.”

“Stop,” you say firmly. You bring his eyes up to meet yours, so he can see the fire in your gaze. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ever. Okay?”

Kyoya stares back at you, feeling small and worthless against the monsters in his own brain. Every second spent with you banishes them a little farther back into his mind, loosening the vises wrapping his chest and letting him breathe a little easier. It has almost consumed him today, so he ran to the only safe place he knows- you. And you had held him and wiped his tears and not for a single second judged him for falling apart.

It occurs to him you are one of the few people on earth who see him for who he truly is, and will still hold his hands anyways.

Ever so gently, he presses his lips to yours- soft, tentative, and barely there. It’s a thank you, and offering, and a question all at once. It’s not the grand romantic gestures he’s planned late at night, wanting to sweep you off your feet in a shower of confidence and joy, or even really a conscious decision- it’s instinct, want, and something like bittersweet love.

You blink at him, eyes wide. “Kyoya… I-”

He stills. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, bringing a hand up to press your fingers against his cheekbone. “Don’t ever be sorry,” you say again, and then you kiss him back. You kiss him like it’s all you’ve ever wanted to do; like you’re saying to him what took you so long, you idiot?

He doesn’t know. But he won’t ever make that mistake again. He’ll kiss you every day for as long as he lives to make up for all that lost time, all those late nights and seaside musings and dances with a hand on the small of your back.

When the sun rises, it illuminates a world of a thousand new possibilities.

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