#see a03 tags for warnings

[lightandheatao3]

The Bunker - Criminal Minds

Chapter 1: The Bunker

Summary: Spencer Reid wakes up in a locked bunker to find half the current BAU and two of its departed members unconscious on the floor. The old team is back together but the reunion is not what any of them would have wished for. An Unsub from their past has decided it's time they all stop keeping secrets, even if it means exposing them by force.

Hotch and Derek have been pulled back into a world they tried to escape. Emily, Rossi, and JJ are doing their best to keep it together. Spencer is falling apart.

AKA a found family is reunited and forced to go through the most nightmarish version of family therapy imaginable.

Set months after the end of Criminal Minds: Evolution. Evolution referenced, but not necessary to understand the story.

Read chapter 1 on AO3 or under the cut. All comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3

Chapter 2 link

Spencer cracked his eyes open, flinching from the white fluorescent light and blinking hard against the groggy, dull ache in his head.

His mouth was dry, body heavy. A familiar wake up. He reached his hand out blindly for the relief waiting on his bedside table.

No- wait.  

His lights are all yellow toned filament bulbs, not white fluorescents.

The smell was wrong. The dull electrical buzz in the air was louder, pitched higher.

His eyes shot open wide and he scrambled to his feet.

This wasn’t home.

He surveyed his surroundings, fighting the wave of dizziness that came with standing too abruptly.

“Oh no,” he said out loud. “Nonononono…”

The room was large and square and made entirely of concrete. Up the top a small vent, too high to reach and too small for a person to fit into. A heavy door with a double walled chamber for someone to put things into without having to interact with the person on the other side. The kind you would find in a maximum-security prison cell. The whole room felt like a prison cell, a place he’d hoped to never be again. At the back of the room a small en-suit that was completely stripped bare but for a metal toilet with no seat and a sink that was bolted into the wall. There was a door that could be shut, but there was a gap under it and a hole where a doorknob had clearly been removed.

A camera. There on the roof, drilled in and protected by a plexiglass dome, blinking its little red light at him. He stared at it for a moment, then closed his eyes.

He slowed his breathing. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not now. Not yet.

Not when there were 5 of his friends prone on the ground around him, unconscious as he had been only moments ago.

Each was laid out on a thin foam mattress, the kind with no seams or springs that could be fashioned into tools.

His first stop was the door. He knew before he tried it that it wasn’t going to open, but he had to make sure. As soon as that was confirmed, he turned his attention to the people in the room with him.

He rushed over to Emily first, rolling her onto her side and checking her pulse. It was slow, but steady. He looked around at the rest of them, noting the gentle rise and fall of their chests. All alive. He sighed audibly, clasping his hands together in thanks and relief for a split second before turning back to Emily.

He gently shook her, putting his hand on her cheek in what he hoped was a comforting way. His hands were shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the comedown. “Emily," he said gently. “Emily, it’s me, Spencer. Wake up Emily.”

After a few more repetitions her eyes fluttered, then opened. She looked up at him hazily. “Spencer?”

“Hi,” he said sadly, knowing there were only a second left until she realized the danger they were in and wanting to let her experience that second in peace.

She glanced behind him where JJ lay unconscious. He looked at her pupils. They were constricted, confirming his suspicions.

“Oh my god,” Emily gasped, her hand reaching up to clutch his shoulder. She leveraged herself against him to drag her way up into a sitting position. She rubbed at her eyes blearily, then opened them again and cast them around the entire room. “Fuck,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Her eyes snapped back to him. “Are you alright?” she asked urgently, looking him over. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “And I don’t know. I woke up a minute ago. I don’t remember how I got here. I think we were all drugged.”

She hummed in agreement. “Last thing I remember I was outside my apartment on the way home from the gym. I still feel a little out of it. God, Spencer, you look awful,” she said, putting a hand over his. “What did they do to you?”

“Same thing as you, most likely.” He looked away. “Emily, that’s Hotch over there,” he deflected. “And Derek.”

Emily looked to where he was pointing. Her expression was solemn, professionalism kicking in even in these dire circumstances. “Yeah. And no sign of Tara, Matt, or Luke. And no Penelope, thank God. Whoever did this, they’ve got a grudge against us that predates the others joining the BAU. Someone who met all of us but never had direct interaction with Penelope. This is good. If the others are free, they’ll find us.”

Spencer nodded in agreement. “This is someone with the skill to find Hotch in witness protection. If he wasn’t dead, I would have said it was Scratch. The logistics of kidnapping 6 highly trained federal agents takes an enormous amount of planning and ability. There are only handful of people we’ve encountered with the capacity to pull something like this off.”

She rubbed at her temples. Her eyes were losing the glassy sheen as the adrenaline counteracted the effects of the drugs. “I assume you tried the door?” He nodded. “I guess we should wake the others.”

No sooner than she said it, JJ stirred. They both crawled over to her. Her wake up process went much the same as Emily’s, but for the fact that the first thing she asked about was if her children were safe, before she’d come to enough to realize they had no way of knowing.

“Whoever this is likely targeted you while you were alone,” Spencer assured her. “It’s much safer to take a victim without witnesses, especially a victim who is trained to defend themselves and needs to be physically incapacitated.”

Next, they woke Rossi, who responded immediately by swearing up a storm and threatening to rip the head off whoever was responsible for this.

“Hey, Dave, it’s okay,” said JJ in a calming voice, even as she looked about to cry. “There’s nobody in here but us.”

He breathed. He nodded. He cursed again. He nodded again.

“At least I’m not alone this time,” he said with a world weariness that Spencer felt in his gut.

They had all been in situations like this before, but Rossi was barely recovered from the last time only a few months ago. Spencer still regret so deeply that he wasn’t there to help with Elias Voit.

“No, you’re not alone,” agreed Emily emphatically. “On that note, look who else is here,” she said.

“God fucking dammit,” cursed Rossi as his eyes swept over Derek and landed on Hotch.

Seeing Derek there was upsetting, but it wasn’t as jarring as Hotch’s presence. Derek still came along to the occasional social event, though less and less recently, as he was busy with the birth of his second child. Spencer personally still saw him once a month or so, though the past year their contact had been more limited to phone calls. They were all dreading having to watch him learn he’d been pulled into this nightmare, but if nothing else they could offer him the comfort of familiarity and camaraderie.

But Hotch… none of them had heard so much as a whisper from him in years. When he disappeared, he did so completely. It’s the kind of thing that would have wounded Spencer deeply under any other circumstances, but after everything Daniel Lewis aka Mr Scratch had put him through, he only ever hoped that Hotch had found every semblance of peace that life could give him. He’d missed him badly at times, but he would have rather they never meet again than have to meet like this.

They decided to wake Derek first.           

Rossi nearly got a fist in the face before Derek pieced together what was happening. Then, he put a fist directly into a concrete wall instead.

“I’m going to regret that when the drugs wear off,” he said sheepishly once he’d calmed down just a bit. “Whatever they dosed us with, they did not skimp. The comedown is gonna suck,” he said, side eyeing Spencer, who pretended not to notice.

The question and answer was the same as with the others. Do you remember anything about who took you? No. Has anyone tried the door? Yes. Derek threw a shoe at the camera for good measure, but of course it just bounced off the plexiglass and landed pathetically on the floor.

The bang of it hitting the concrete was enough to make Hotch finally stir. They all turned to face him, staring helplessly.

His hair was longer than Spencer had ever seen it. Still short, but more relaxed, skimming the bottom of his ears and starting to curl a little at the base of his neck. He was still lean, but some of the muscle had been replaced by fat. He looked just a little softer. Healthier. His face was peaceful. Spencer always remembered him looking tense, even in his sleep. His hair was streaked with grey but somehow this was the youngest Spencer had ever seen him look.

He stirred a little more, blinking at last.

Ah, there was the familiar tension creeping its way back across his face.

Rossi was the one who finally knelt down beside him. “Aaron? I’m so sorry my friend,” he said sadly as recognition flashed in Hotch’s eyes.

“I’m dreaming,” came the familiar voice. Spencer had missed that voice more than he'd known.

Hotch closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again. He looked past Rossi at the rest of them. Spencer raised his hand in a polite greeting, then immediately felt like an idiot for doing so.

“I’m not dreaming,” he said, no trace of emotion in his voice.

“I’m afraid not,” Rossi confirmed.

Hotch fixed his eyes on Rossi again, pushing himself up so he was sitting against the wall. He looked like he was staring at a ghost, trying to figure where the projector was. “When did you get so old?” he said, reaching out a hand to Rossi’s face and poking at it.

Rossi grabbed the offending hand and clasped it between both of his. “Careful. You’re no spring chicken yourself,” he joked.

“No,” said Hotch, still expressionless. “Peter Lewis is dead. This isn’t my life anymore. He’s dead. They told me he died. I saw photos of the body.”

Spencer didn’t know that, but judging by Rossi’s lack of surprise, he pieced together that the older man had likely made sure the witness protection people had passed the photos along.

“Scratch is dead,” Rossi confirmed. “Whoever did this, it’s not him.”

“This. Isn’t. Real,” Hotch insisted, the first sign of emotion entering his voice in the form of hysteria as he pulled his hand away from Rossi and scrambled to his feet. “All of you stay away from me!” he yelled, looking at each of them in turn.

JJ grabbed onto Spencer’s arm. He flinched at first, then put an arm around her and gave what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. Derek took a step towards Hotch, but Emily held him back.

Hotch backed into the corner, looking at them like a caged animal. They were all caged animals now, Spencer supposed. An unfortunately familiar role.

“Hotch,” Spencer said, surprising himself by speaking. They all turned to look at him. He couldn’t back away now. “This is real. I’m so sorry this is happening to you, but Penelope and the rest of our team aren’t here, which means they are out there looking for us. I know it doesn’t feel real. We have all been drugged and you are probably still feeling the effects. I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t real, but it is,” Spencer said kindly but emphatically.

“We’ll get out of this together,” said Emily. “It’s going to be okay.”

Hotch’s eyes were looking just a little clearer.

“Listen man, I know what you’re feeling. I got out, too, remember? I have a family and I don’t know if they’re alright. I’m right here with you. We’re all on your side. Do you believe me?” asked Derek, and this time Emily let him take a step forward.

 Hotch looked around at all of them again. He assessed them carefully. Then, he turned to the corner, putting his back to them and his hand over his face. It was the closest thing he could get to privacy and Spencer was suddenly grateful to have woken up first to process all of this without being watched.

Well, except for the camera.

They all looked at the floor and did their best to give Hotch space. It was almost a full minute before he finally tuned back around.

There was that stoic expression that Spencer remembered. All that youth and peace was gone from his face in an instant. Spencer hoped so badly that it wasn’t gone for good.

“What do we know?” asked Hotch, crossing his arms.

A moment of silence passed and Spencer wondered if the rest of them felt their hearts breaking into pieces at this cruel facsimile of a reunion.

“Why don’t we start with the last thing each of us remembers?” said Emily, stepping up beside Hotch and looking back at the rest of the room, two natural leaders doing what they do best.

Each of them recounted the details they knew before they woke up in this room.

They had been going about their lives, nothing special. The only common thread they could find was that each of them was alone when their memories stopped.

Derek had been at a picnic with his family and the last thing he remembered was leaving to use the park bathroom. Emily on her way back from the gym. JJ heading out to get groceries. Rossi walking home late from a bar.

“I was driving to work,” said Hotch shortly.

“We’re going to need more detail than that if we want to put together a timeline,” prompted Rossi. "Where do you work?"

Hotch pursed his lips. Spencer could see him strategizing in his head. He wasn’t back in their lives by choice. Spencer understood.

He didn’t get it back when Gideon left, but he got it now. Once you let people in the door, it can be impossible to fully extricate them. Hotch’s old life was filled with trauma he was trying to leave behind and the team were living representations of that past. Spencer couldn’t bring himself to be hurt by the other man’s reticence.

“A legal consultancy in a small town in Kentucky,” he said reluctantly, like divulging the smallest part of his personal life meant inviting the entire FBI right back into it.

“That’s an 8 hour drive,” said Derek. “No wonder you were so out of it compared to the rest of us. You must have been dosed multiple times to keep you under that long.”

“I think you’re right,” he said. “I’m still a bit foggy, if I’m being honest,” he admitted quietly. “What about you, Reid?”

Spencer blinked. “I feel fine.”

“No, I mean what’s the last thing you remember?”

Oh. Right. “I went to sleep in my apartment, then I woke up here,” he said honestly. It wasn’t important what he was doing before he went to sleep.

“Since we can be fairly confident whoever this is took Hotch first,” said Emily, “That probably means they got to you last, Spence. They hit all of us in one day. They must have known the BAU had a day off after closing the last case. They would have had to hit us quick to avoid raising alarms.”

“And the fact that we were all grabbed at different times indicates we’re likely dealing with a single Unsub. Someone highly organized and familiar with each of our routines.”

“The Unsub must have been planning this for a long time. Finding someone in witness protection, especially a former profiler, would take an incredible amount of skill or resources,” said Spence. “They stalked us, learned our routines, then used blitz attacks to stop us from being able to fight back.”

It didn’t take long for them to get into the flow. He felt his panic slipping away as his brain shifted into work mode. At some point they all went from standing to sitting in a circle on the floor.

It felt ridiculous to think about, but Spencer couldn't help but be mildly self conscious being the only one of them in his pajamas, as he was taken in his sleep. He was just glad it was a cold night so he'd been wearing nice, full length ones and not boxers and a shirt or something to that affect. Derek, Emily and JJ were all dressed in comfortable day wear. Rossi and Hotch in suits. Hotch was interesting, though. Spencer had rarely seen him outside of a crisp black suit characteristic of an FBI agent. The one he wore now was navy with a striped tie. It looked good on him.

They put together a more detailed timeline and looked back on the past few months of their lives to discuss anything that could have possibly been out of the ordinary.

The more they talked, the less cagey Hotch was about his life. It was strange to learn more about the day to day he had been living in the years since they’d seen him.

None of them talked about their kids or partners beyond a simple acknowledgement of their existence. They were all acutely aware of the camera on the roof. Whoever was doing this didn’t need to know any more about their families than they already did.

Their phones had been taken and none of them had anything to write with, so they were relying on Spencer to catalogue and compile the information in his brain. He did just that, and after a couple hours they had what was likely a fairly reliable timeline, including geographical information.

Whoever was doing this, they were extremely organized, meticulous, and quick. Not one of them saw it coming. None of them could point to any strange interactions they had over the past months, any red flags, any signs of being followed.

When it came time for Spencer to recount the details of the last months of his life, the others stared at him intently. “I haven’t seen you in person in months,” said Derek. “You don’t look so great, pretty boy.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but the bunker we’re currently locked in isn’t making the rest of you look at your healthiest, either.”

“You know what I mean,” said Derek with an affectionate eyeroll.

“You know I was doing some classified work for the bureau. That’s why I couldn’t be there for what happened with Voit,” he said with an apologetic look to Rossi, who waved his hand dismissively. They had already been over this when Spencer first got back. He noticed Hotch raise a curious eyebrow. “I can’t talk about the work since we’re currently being recorded,” he said, nodding up at the camera. “Emily knows the details. It was nothing bad, just research that kept me out off the grid for a while. But if the Unsub could find Hotch in witness protection, then it’s possible they could have been tailing me for that long.”

“That finished months ago,” pointed out Emily. “What have you been doing while you’re on sabbatical?”

“A few guest lecture series at Virginia Tech and spending time with my mom, mostly. I just needed a break. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. I guess I’ve been a bit distracted. I haven’t seen or experienced anything unusual, though.”

“I hope your mom’s doing okay,” said JJ comfortingly, prompting the rest of them to nod sympathetically.

He just nodded back. She was doing fine, honestly, not that he’d been visiting as often as he should. Easier to let them assume she was the reason he had been absent.

“Why are you doing this?” said Hotch, standing up and looking directly at the camera once they realized none of them had any more details to share at this point. “What do you want from us? Tell us what it is and maybe we can give it to you.”

The camera blinked its red light at them, showing no care for their presence.

Hotch sighed. He looked down at them all helplessly. His eyes stopped short on Derek. He knelt down, staring at something on the side of his head. “What?” asked Derek, leaning away in concern at Hotch’s suddenly very close face.

“Hold still,” said Hotch. He waved Emily over, who shuffled round to his side. “Right… there,” he said, hovering a finger just behind Derek’s ear.

Her eyes widened. Hotch looked at her questioningly, then turned his own head and tucked his hair away so that she could see behind his ear.

“You have it too,” she said. She did the same as him and he checked her over. They looked at each other again and he nodded.

They all stared at them expectantly, though Spencer was pretty sure he knew what they were seeing.

“Puncture marks at the top of the neck, just behind the ear,” Emily explained. “That’s where we were injected.”

Spencer, Rossi and JJ all checked each other. Sure enough, same thing.

“That means we were likely attacked from behind,” said Derek.

“Do we know what we were drugged with?” said Hotch, shooting an almost imperceptible glance in Spencer’s direction.

His skin crawled at the way none of them wanted to look at him, to just come right out and say it. He didn’t particularly want to talk about it. Not really. But they always acted like the subject was poison and it made him feel like he had to walk on eggshells too. Like the reality of his life was harder for them to hear than it was for him to live.

“I am fairly confident it was some kind of opioid,” he said, careful to keep the irritation out of his voice.

JJ put her hand on his and he felt the irritation dissipate.

They cared about him. He knew that. It’s not as if they were wrong to worry. They had talked about it a little over the years, but not enough that it had stopped being awkward every time it came up.

“Are you certain?” asked Rossi. “Could have been a tranquilizer.”

“I’m certain,” said Spencer. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”

Derek reached a foot across the circle and bumped it against Spencer’s knee in a supportive gesture, like saying ‘I’m here with you.’ Emily smiled at him softly, reassuringly.

“It could have been cut with something,” pointed out Hotch.

“The totality of the blackout indicates it may have been cut with a sedative of some kind, as a high enough dose of opioids to include that kind of memory loss reliably could be unsafe and none of us are suffering significant enough side effects to indicate that’s the case. Whoever did this knew exactly what dosage to use,” he explained. “But… I am quite sure it was predominantly an opioid.”

Of course he was sure.

“Jesus,” said JJ. “I’m sorry, Spence.”

“I don’t believe in fate but the universe does seem to have a strange way of conspiring to get you high,” deadpanned Emily.

Derek shot her a harsh look, but Spencer cracked a smile. “I think ‘an Unsub made me do it’ is going to start sounding like ‘a dog ate my homework’ to my sponsor,” he joked back, relief washing over him that they weren’t going to dance around it the entire time they were in here. Not that he’d spoken to his sponsor in more than a year. They didn’t need to know that.

The others smiled too. “You’ll be alright, kid,” said Rossi. “If you kept it together after Mexico, you’ll get through this.”

That would have been a comforting statement if not for the fact that it was completely false. It didn’t matter anyway. Penelope and the rest of the team would find them and get them out before any of this became an issue.

Or they wouldn’t. But he couldn’t think about that yet.

A crease sat deep between Hotch’s eyebrows. “Mexico?”

“You don’t know?” said Emily. “I just assumed you were across everything to do with the Scratch case.”

“No,” said Hotch. “I accepted proof of his death and told the liaison I didn’t want to know anything else.”

“It’s complicated,” said Rossi. “There were other players involved, but the short version is Reid was drugged and framed for murder. It wasn’t pretty.”

“We don’t need to go into the details,” said Spencer, oddly embarrassed at the idea of Hotch knowing just how prone to being victimized he apparently still is. He knew it wasn’t rational, given the things that had happened to Hotch and the fact that all of them were in this locked room as victims together.

Hotch looked at him. Spencer couldn’t read his expression at all. Eventually he just nodded and let it drop.

Before any of them could say another word, there was a banging at the door. The hatch on the other side of the door chamber opened.

Derek got to the door first, trying to rip the hatch on their side open. He shouted at the door “What do you want?! Talk to me! Just tell us what you want!”

There was no response.

The only thing they could see was a hand covered in a thick leather glove sliding a piece of paper in. It was a smaller hand than expected.

He continued pulling but the panel didn’t budge until the other one had closed completely. Derek stumbled backwards as the panel suddenly released.

“It’s soundproof,” Spencer said, despairing. “There was no sound of footsteps on the other side.”

Emily grabbed the note from the chamber. They all whipped around to watch her as she read the words aloud.

“Hello, old friends,” she started, all of them frozen in place and hanging off her every word. “I know you are wondering why you are here. It is simple. You dragged my secrets into the light and then put me in a cage. At first I wanted to get revenge. Then I watched you for a long time and I learned all about you and I learned that we are the same. I saw how you are suffering. How you are scared. All hiding. I remember when I had to hide. For so long I hid even from myself. Now, because of you, I am free. Even when I was in a cage, I was free, because I had no secrets anymore.

I want to give you the freedom you gave to me. Soon, you will not have secrets. You will see that in this room you cannot hide and that when there is nothing left to hide, you will be free.”

Emily looked up from the letter, meeting all of their eyes in turn. There was a painful lump in Spencer’s throat.

If he was being honest with himself, he knew it as soon as he woke up in this room and saw them all there. He knew they weren’t going to make it out in time. He knew the Unsub must have watched him closely enough to know what was going on with him. He knew he wasn’t making it out of this without all of them seeing him for exactly who he is.

Now, he thought, might be the time to fall apart.

[potatopersonal]

younger tumblr users- PLEASE use trigger warnings in tags

this isn’t something i’m saying just to be mean; this is something that should be taken seriously. this might be something that doesn’t affect you, or doesn’t affect me, but it WILL affect somebody else. 

don’t just put trigger warnings right above a picture- people might scroll past the image immediately and still see something triggering.

personally, for example, i like to use tw ____ and _____ tw simultaneously. or you could also put it beneath a read more. 

 another important note: do not censor your tags. i know that on tiktok and twitter that’s what you have to do to get around censorship, but on tumblr these tags need to be fully written out. if you write tw s3lf h@rm, then people who have the tag “tw self harm” blocked will still be able to see your post. 

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 5

Word Count: 11.6k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, kidnapping, syringes, hitting, bloodshed, attempted rape, lots of blood, sylus goes a tad bit crazy, pet names like kitten, sweetie, doll, little mouse, stalking,

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel

AN: I decided to make this chapters theme red since it fits the bloodiness of this chapter. This is on A03 as well! Also YALL I'm so sorry, apparently my taglist hasn't been tagging people correctly. It should be fixed now! I’ll go back and fix it on the other lists as well!! Per usual, heed the warnings and enjoy! Next chapter is definitely going to have lots of smut, I’m already writing it 😌

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

“I am the only one who gets to see you cry”

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.6

The darkness had swallowed you whole. When you blink your eyes open, the world is a blur, as though you’re caught between waking and a nightmare. Cold, sharp and biting, is the first thing you feel, seeping into your skin from the damp concrete beneath you. Your nightgown is soaked, sticking to your body, the freezing water from the shower still dripping slowly from the showerhead, an eerie rhythm to the otherwise oppressive silence.

It takes a moment before the memories resurface, and when they do, they crash over you like a wave. The basement. Reese. The other man. The betrayal. Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the way Reese had looked at you when he led you here, his guilt ridden face made you scowl.

How dare he have a conscious when he had led you to your very demise? You had trusted him. Told him about your kidnapping, your escape. He had listened with kind eyes, nodding in all the right places, making you believe he was different—that he was your salvation in a world that had turned cruel. He had seemed so genuine, offering you a place to stay, a promise of safety. But now, that memory feels like poison, a twisted mockery of the trust you had so willingly given him.

How could you have been so naive?

You groan as you try to sit yourself upright, every muscle in your body protesting with sharp pain. The cold has seeped so deeply into your bones that it feels like your limbs are made of lead, heavy and uncooperative. Your fingers dig into the rough concrete as you push against it, your nightgown clinging to your skin, wet and miserable.

Your head spins, the pounding ache a reminder of everything you’ve been through, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to move. Lying there, helpless, isn’t an option. Not anymore.

Each breath is a struggle, shallow and ragged, as you steady yourself against the wall behind you. The dampness of the basement, the steady drip of water in the corner, the faint musty scent of decay—it all feels suffocating, as though the walls are closing in. You blink hard, trying to focus, to ground yourself in the moment, but the betrayal still burns in your mind, cutting deeper than any physical wound.

Reese's face flashes before your eyes again, his soft voice promising safety, and you can’t help but let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolves into a shaky exhale. Safety. What a cruel joke.

You had simply traded one prison for a colder, darker one.

You look around the basement, squinting in the dim light. Your legs ache as you try to move them, pins and needles shooting through your feet as you attempt to stand. Your body feels battered, but the deeper pain—the one rooted in the betrayal—hurts far worse. Reese wasn’t some random passerby, some kind stranger. He knew what he was doing, and worse, he had listened to your story of suffering and seen you as an opportunity to fulfill some promise.

As you lean against the wall, trying to steady your shaky breath, Reese’s words echo in your mind, gnawing at your already fragile sense of reality.

“I promised them a girl.”

The phrase rattles around in your skull, unsettling and cryptic. What did he mean by that? Who was them?

Your stomach turns, the bile rising in your throat as you replay the memory over and over. Reese had said it shakily, his voice trembling, his eyes wide with barely concealed fear. But his words were soaked in something far darker, something that made your skin crawl the moment they left his lips.

Promised them a girl.

The weight of it sinks in deeper, heavier with each passing moment, like a noose tightening around your neck.

Your hands curl into fists, nails digging sharply into your palms as you struggle to suppress the rising wave of nausea and panic. Every breath feels like a battle, the air thick with dread. You want answers—need answers—but more than anything, you need to get out of here. Every second you spend trapped in this basement feels like a countdown ticking away to something far worse than anything your mind can conjure.

Whatever Reese had promised them, whatever twisted deal he’d made, you won’t let it come to pass. You won’t be some pawn in this dark, twisted game he's playing. You refuse to be reduced to a bargaining chip for them, whoever they are. They might have Reese tangled in their web, but they won’t have you.

Your eyes drift toward the dingy mattress settled on a metal frame, barely visible in the dim light. A tattered towel, a folded pair of sweatpants and a white shirt lie haphazardly on top of it. You hesitate for a moment, the sight catching you off guard. Did Reese leave these here for you?

The thought sends a wave of conflicting emotions through you—anger, confusion, even a twisted sense of pity. Despite everything, despite handing you over to whatever fate awaits, had he still tried to offer some small gesture of comfort? Or had this been planned, just part of the sick arrangement, a way to keep you alive long enough for them?

You shake the thought from your mind. It doesn’t matter.

The cold clings to you, a constant, suffocating presence in your wet nightgown. Your teeth are still chattering, your skin icy to the touch. Without thinking too much about it, you rush over to the mattress, snatching the towel and the sweatpants. The rough fabric of the towel is worn, but it's warm enough as you rub it over your chilled skin, drying the water that’s soaked through your night gown.

With shaking hands, you strip off your wet, heavy dress and quickly pull on the dry sweatpants and t shirt. The warmth is immediate, a small, fleeting relief that feels almost like a luxury in this basement. You wish they weren't so loose, but it’s better than nothing.

Your body is still cold, still trembling, but the damp heaviness has lessened. You feel lighter, a little less trapped by the elements, even if the air around you remains heavy with the weight of everything that has yet to happen.

Reese’s face flashes in your mind again, his nervous, guilt-ridden eyes, and you can’t help but wonder—was this his attempt at an apology? His way of making up for the unforgivable?

Abruptly, you hear it – footsteps above, faint but unmistakable. Your entire body tenses as you freeze in place, straining to listen. The whispers that follow are barely audible through the thick ceiling, but you can catch snippets of words, just enough to recognize one of the voices: Reese.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as you make your way towards the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, every step agonizing from the cold and strain. You push through the pain, desperate for more information.

You press your ear against the frigid metal, the voices growing clearer yet still muffled. Reese's voice is shaky and filled with nervous energy, like when he made that dreadful promise to "them."

"She said she was kidnapped," Reese's voice trembles, sending a wave of chills down your spine.

A cold sweat breaks out across your skin. A lump forms in your throat as you strain to listen, your mind racing. You had trusted him with everything, thinking he would help. The other voice – deep and calculated – interrupts.

"By who?" he demands harshly.

"I don't know," Reese replies, panic evident in his voice. "She didn't give names…I didn't ask…I didn't think…"

"Idiot," the man hisses angrily, cutting off Reese's rambling. There's a moment of silence before heavy footsteps approach closer. Your heart pounds violently in your chest.

You hear something unmistakable—a faint scraping sound. Your blood runs cold as you slowly realize what’s happening.

The metal handle of the hatch begins to turn.

It’s a slow, deliberate movement, the iron grinding against itself with a low, ominous creak that makes your breath catch in your throat. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening as you stare at the hatch, watching the handle twist further, the tension of the lock giving way with a soft, metallic click.

Panic floods through you as the realization hits like a punch to the gut—they’re about to open the hatch.

The handle continues to turn, and with a surge of panic, you pull away from the hatch. Your body moves before your mind can fully process, instincts kicking in. You scramble down the creaky wooden stairs, your legs protesting with every movement, but you push through the pain.

Each step feels like it takes an eternity, the sound of the hatch above grinding against your nerves. You reach the bottom, your breath ragged, and without a second thought, you make a desperate dive under the bed.

You scramble under the grimy mattress, your heart pounding as you press your body flat against the cold floor. The space beneath the bed is cramped, dark, and thick with dust, but you force yourself to stay still, biting back your panic. Your breathing comes in short, shaky bursts, but you try to control it, barely daring to inhale as you listen to the creak of the metal hatch swinging open.

The footsteps echo louder now, descending the wooden stairs, each step making your pulse race faster. You watch from your hiding place, the dim light casting shadows across the room as the first pair of feet—Reese's—comes into view. His sneakers shuffle nervously against the floor. Right behind him, heavier boots thud down the steps—boots that belong to someone much more imposing, someone far more dangerous.

You peek through the gloom, barely daring to lift your head.

Reese speaks first, his voice shaky. “I-I swear, I don’t know who kidnapped her. She just told me she was running, that she escaped. I didn’t ask for details.” There’s a tremor in his voice, thick with fear.

The other man’s voice is low, cold. “And you didn’t think to get more information? You were too busy playing hero.”

You didn't recognize this voice. He wasn't the one from earlier that had helped Reese bring you down here.

Reese mumbles something incoherent, but you can hear his terror. The other man clearly isn’t buying it. The booted footsteps hit the last step, and the man takes a slow, deliberate step into the basement.

You curl up tighter, heart racing, your body nearly paralyzed with fear as you catch sight of him. He’s taller than Reese, broader, with an intimidating presence that fills the room. His voice cuts through the tension. “Where is she, Reese? You promised us a girl. So, where is she?”

Reese stammers, his anxiety palpable. “She’s—she’s here, I swear, I locked the hatch. She couldn’t have gone anywhere.”

The man lets out a slow exhale, clearly unimpressed. “She better be. Otherwise, you’ll have hell to pay.”

You can feel the weight of the man’s presence shifting, scanning the room, and you shrink further into the darkness, praying that the shadows will keep you hidden. The dread mounts as the sound of their steps grows louder.

Your heart races, every muscle tense as the heavy boots come to a stop right beside the bed. You can feel the air shift, the man's presence looming dangerously above you. His shadow stretches over the mattress, and for a second, you think maybe—just maybe—he'll move on. Maybe he won't look under here.

But then, in one swift motion, he crouches down.

His eyes lock onto yours, blue and calculating, a cruel smile playing at the edges of his lips. Your stomach drops, panic surging through you like wildfire. You try to scramble backward, to escape deeper under the bed, but it's too late. His hand shoots out, iron-tight fingers wrapping around your ankle.

"No more hiding, little mouse," he growls, his voice thick with menace.

You kick and thrash, but he’s far too strong. With a brutal yank, he drags you out from under the bed, your nails scraping uselessly against the concrete floor as you try to find some kind of grip. Fear pulses through you, sharp and overwhelming, as you're pulled out into the open.

"Got her," the man says, his grip on your ankle tightening painfully. He hauls you upright, forcing you to stand even as your legs buckle beneath you.

Reese is standing off to the side, pale and trembling, his eyes wide with guilt and fear. He doesn’t say a word as the man forces you up, his cold fingers digging into your arm now, holding you in place.

The man looks you over, his smile fading as he studies you with dark, unreadable eyes. "This is her?" he says, glancing at Reese, his voice a mixture of disbelief and something far more dangerous.

Reese stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y-yes. I swear. She’s the one."

The man turns back to you, his expression hardening. "Good," he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your arm until pain shoots through your shoulder.

You bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction. The man's grip tightened further, his fingers digging into your flesh like steel talons. Your heart raced, pounding against your ribcage as you fought to keep your composure.

"Let. Me. Go." You hissed through clenched teeth, each word dripping with venom.

The man's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Feisty, are we? Hilarious. Won't last long though".

He released your arm abruptly, causing you to stumble. As you regained your footing, you noticed Reese had retreated to a corner, his face a mask of guilt and fear. The betrayal stung, but you pushed the feeling aside. There would be time for that later. Right now, survival was your only priority.

The men turned toward the metal hatch at the top of the stairs, drawn to the sound of heels clacking against the wooden steps. You tensed, every muscle in your body coiling with anticipation as another pair of legs appeared, descending with an air of confidence. A woman stepped into the basement, her dark hair swinging with each precise step, her sharp brown eyes surveying the room with calm, calculated detachment. She was dressed in a crisp, business-casual outfit, perfectly put together, every detail deliberate.

Her heels struck the floor with a final, authoritative click as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze locking onto you immediately. There was no warmth in her eyes, no recognition of you as a person—only cold assessment, as though you were an object, a piece of inventory.

She didn’t speak right away, her expression unreadable as she glanced at the man beside you, then at Reese huddled in the corner. Her presence demanded attention, a silent command of the room that made your skin crawl.

“Is this the girl?” she asked at last, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of impatience.

The man nodded, his smirk never faltering. “She’s the one boss.”

The woman’s eyes swept over you again, lingering on you for a moment longer than before. You felt her gaze like ice, sharp and invasive, as if she could see through you, past your fear, right down to your core.

“She doesn’t look like much,” she remarked, almost casually, though there was a quiet menace in her tone. “But she’ll do hopefully.”

Your heart dropped, dread pooling in your stomach as her words hung in the air. Whatever Reese had gotten you into, it wasn’t just a betrayal—it was something far more dangerous. And now, you were caught in the middle of it.

Your mind raced as you tried to think of a way out, but the walls felt like they were closing in, your options shrinking with every second that passed. You had to do something—anything—before it was too late.

You certainly couldn't fight your way out of here. It was 3v1, and the days of little food and constant stress had weakened you significantly. Your limbs felt like lead, and any attempt to resist would be useless, not against these people—especially with the woman’s calculating gaze locked onto you.

"Wh-what is this?" you stammer, trying to sound calm, but the tremor in your voice betrays you. "What do you plan to do with me?"

The woman turned toward you, her expression cold, detached. She raised an eyebrow, as though mildly amused by your question, but there was no kindness in her eyes—only a chilling indifference.

“Does it really matter?” she replied, her voice smooth but laced with cruelty. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the floor with each deliberate step, her presence looming over you. “You’re not in a position to negotiate or ask questions, are you?”

You felt your pulse race, panic swelling in your chest. You tried to stand straighter, to show some semblance of strength, but your body betrayed you, trembling from exhaustion and fear.

The man who had grabbed you before let out a low chuckle. “She’s already scared. Good. Makes things easier.”

Reese, from his corner, shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. The guilt was written all over his face, but he said nothing, didn’t even try to stop what was happening. He had already played his part in this nightmare.

The woman tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “You’ve been promised to someone very important, and it’s best if you cooperate. Things will be... easier for you.”

Your stomach dropped at the implications of her words. Promised? You were no longer just a person—you were a transaction.

Your mouth went dry as you forced the question past your lips, your voice shaky. "Promised for what?" You had to know. Every terrible possibility ran through your mind, but the uncertainty gnawed at you even more.

The woman paused, a brief flicker of something—pity, maybe?—crossing her face. She sighed softly, like she was indulging a child who didn’t know better. “I guess it couldn’t hurt for you to know,” she said, her tone almost bored. “Won’t make much difference in the end.”

She stepped closer, crouching down so she was eye-level with you. Her gaze softened slightly, but the words that followed made your blood run cold.

“You’ve been promised to a very wealthy man,” she began, her voice calm, detached. “His wife...she’s dying. Organ failure. They’ve tried everything—medications, various treatments—but nothing’s worked.”

Your mind raced, struggling to process the meaning behind her words. Organ failure? The realization hit you like a sledgehammer, a wave of nausea rolling through your stomach as her words continued.

“He’s willing to pay any price for a match,” she explained with chilling indifference, her eyes boring into yours. And if you're a perfect match for her...” She paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in before she added, almost with a shrug, “Your organs will save her life.”

A sickening silence followed, the air thick with your disbelief.

They were going to harvest your organs.

Panic clawed at your throat, and your body felt like it was in freefall. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The cold, brutal truth hung in the air between you and the woman, her pitying gaze cutting you deeper than anything else.

“You should feel honored,” she added, her voice devoid of any real sympathy. “You’ll be giving someone like her a second chance at life.”

Your heart raced, blood pounding in your ears. Your survival wasn’t just threatened—it was already decided.

Your body went numb as her words settled over you, the realization of what they planned twisting your stomach into knots. But as the silence stretched on, the woman seemed to catch herself, a slight frown tugging at her lips.

“We don’t know for sure if you’re a match yet,” she admitted, almost thoughtfully. “But you're a woman, so that's already one criteria met. And it’s just a matter of time before we find out the second.”

She reached into the pocket of her crisp jacket and pulled out a syringe and a small vial. The sight of it made your blood run cold. Your heart hammered against your chest, each beat a sharp reminder of how close you were to losing everything.

“I need to take a blood sample,” she said, her tone almost professional now. “Don’t bother resisting. We’ll get what we need, one way or another.”

Your limbs froze, panic surging through your veins. You wanted to run, to scream, but your legs felt like they were locked in place. The walls of the basement seemed to close in tighter around you, and for a moment, all you could focus on was the needle in her hand.

The woman’s dark brown eyes flicked toward you, assessing your reaction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. It’s just a small test,” she said, almost like she was coaxing you into compliance. “If you’re not a match, maybe you'll get lucky. You're a woman after all, you at least have other parts you can use to gain your freedom."

She stepped closer, the syringe gleaming under the dim basement light. Your body tensed, the urge to fight back bubbling up inside you. But you were weak, outnumbered, and utterly trapped.

“Hold out your arm,” she said softly, like she was giving you a choice.

Your breath caught in your throat as the syringe gleamed ominously in her hand. Your heart hurt as you glanced toward Reese, who stood in the corner, guilt-ridden and pale, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t help you—he wouldn’t help you.

You glanced back between her and the syringe, the world closing in tighter with each second. Your mind raced for a way out, some escape, but it was futile. Even if you refused, they’d force you—there was no other option.

You took a shaky breath and slowly extended your arm, the gesture more out of survival instinct than anything. Live long enough to find another way out, you told yourself, trying to cling to that sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was still time.

The woman smiled, satisfied, as she knelt beside you, her movements smooth and practiced. “Smart choice,” she said, wrapping a rubber band around your arm to prepare for the blood draw.

You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but you forced yourself to stay still. The vial began to fill with dark red blood, and the woman worked with a cold efficiency, as though she’d done this a hundred times before.

After what felt like an eternity, she withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball to your arm. “There,” she said, standing up and eyeing the shiny vial filled with your blood. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You wanted to lash out, to scream, but your body was too drained, your mind too scattered. She was right—it didn’t matter if it was easy or hard. What mattered was what came next.

The woman turned to the man with the heavy boots. “Get this to the lab,” she ordered, her tone brisk. “The results will tell us everything we need.”

He nodded and took the vial, disappearing back up the stairs without a word. The metal hatch closed behind him with a heavy thud, and the basement fell back into tense silence.

The woman stayed behind, her eyes never leaving you. “Now we wait,” she said, crossing her arms. “If you’re lucky, you won’t be a match. But if you are… well, we’ll be in touch.”

You swallowed hard, dread pooling in your stomach. The blood had been drawn, the wheels set in motion—and there was nothing you could do but wait for your fate to be decided.

Reese shifted uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes downcast, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you.

The woman glanced at him, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “I suggest you keep her in good condition until we know for sure. We wouldn’t want her damaged, would we?”

Reese flinched but nodded, his guilt written all over his face.

And with that, the woman turned on her heel and left, her heels clacking up the stairs, the metal hatch sealing you back in the basement.

You were alone again—alone with Reese and the suffocating weight of your uncertain future.

As the metal hatch slammed shut, trapping you back in the dim, suffocating basement, something inside you snapped. The overwhelming dread, the helplessness, the betrayal—it all collided at once. Your chest tightened, and your blood boiled with the rage that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes locked onto Reese, who was still slouched in the corner, avoiding your gaze. His entire body trembled, but all you could see was the man who had led you into this nightmare. The man who had stood by and watched as they drew your blood like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

You trusted him.

"You," you spat, your voice cracking with fury. "I trusted you, Reese."

He flinched at your words, but he didn’t look up. His hands were shaking, balled into fists at his sides, but that didn’t matter. He had made his choice.

"I trusted you!" you shouted, your voice growing louder, the raw emotion burning through your exhaustion. "I told you everything—I told you about my escape, I thought you were trying to help me!"

Reese's lips trembled, and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours, guilt etched deep into his pale face. "I... I didn't have a choice," he stammered, his voice weak, barely audible. "They—they would've killed me if I didn’t—"

"Spare me!" you snapped, cutting him off. "You sold me, Reese! You handed me over to them like I was nothing!" The weight of his betrayal hit you all over again, the pain of it cutting deeper than any physical wound. You had told him about your kidnapping, he had watched you sob over Xavier, had you thinking he was someone you could trust, someone who cared.

Tears of frustration burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t —not now, not for him of all people. "You knew what they were going to do to me," you continued, your voice trembling with anger. "You knew, and you did it anyway."

Reese shook his head, his voice cracking as he mumbled, "I—I didn't know they'd—about the organs. I thought..." He trailed off, as if the excuse could somehow absolve him. But it didn’t.

"Thought what?"

"I'd thought they'd just...rape you. And then dump you somewhere..." he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "Like the others.."

"Like the others?!" you said, your voice rising. "You...you've done this before? You're...sick! Fucking sick!"

He shrank back, visibly cowering under your words. "I didn't have a choice," he repeated weakly, like it was the only thing he could cling to.

"You always have a choice!" you shot back, your voice cracking from the strain. "You had a choice to be a good person, and you chose to betray me."

The room was silent after that, the air thick with tension. Reese had no response, nothing to say that could possibly justify what he'd done. He just stood there, looking more like a frightened child than the man who had so easily handed you over.

You swallowed hard, your chest heaving with the weight of your emotions. "I hope it was worth it," you said coldly, the anger fading into something far more painful. "I hope whatever they promised you was worth selling me like this."

Reese remained silent, his eyes cast down, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, but it held no weight, no real meaning. Before you could respond, he suddenly rushed past you, his footsteps heavy on the cold floor. He didn’t look back.

You watched, stunned, as he hurried up the wooden stairs, his movements frantic, almost as if he couldn’t bear to stay in the room with you a second longer. The old wooden stairs groaned under his weight, the sound harsh in the suffocating silence.

You stood frozen in place, your mind whirling with a mix of anger, disbelief, and the crushing weight of betrayal. His retreating figure disappeared through the metal hatch, and the sound of it slamming shut echoed through the basement like a final punctuation to his cowardice.

The room fell eerily quiet, the air thick with everything left unsaid. You were alone again, left with nothing but the cold, the dull ache of exhaustion, and the horrifying knowledge of what awaited you.

You slumped against the wall, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all at once. The basement felt smaller, colder, and more suffocating than before.

Days blurred into each other, each one indistinguishable from the next. The cold, damp basement became your prison, a place where time felt meaningless. Your mind drifted constantly, a mixture of fear, anger, and hopelessness gnawing at you from all sides. You found yourself thinking about Xavier—wondering if he was still out there, still searching for you. He had to be, didn’t he? You tried to cling to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d find you before it was too late.

You wished you had listened to him when he said he had a bad feeling about you going with Reese. How could you have been so stupid?

Reese came in and out of the basement sporadically, never staying for long. He kept his distance, barely making eye contact, as though seeing the consequences of his betrayal was too much for him to handle. He left you basic necessities—pads, water, a couple of small meals—but nothing more. Every time he disappeared, it felt like another thread of hope was being pulled away, leaving you more isolated than ever.

You pondered attacking Reese when he came down here next. He seemed fidgety and not as strong as the others. But still strong nonetheless. And in your weakened state, he could still take you down, or threaten you with the gun again.

At some point, you drifted off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking you in the cold dark. Your period had finally subsided, and so did the awful cramping, allowing you to rest at least somewhat peacefully. You weren’t sure how long you’d been out, but the sound of the metal hatch creaking open startled you awake. Instinctively, you didn’t move, thinking it was Reese again—another silent, guilty visit to drop something off before fleeing.

But then, a deep, gruff voice pierced the silence. A voice you recognized, but not in the way that brought comfort.

“Well, look who’s sleeping like a baby,” the voice sneered, low and menacing.

Your heart sank, and fear surged through you as you realized it wasn’t Reese. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open, and your breath caught in your throat when you shifted to look at the voice.

It was the man—the one who had helped Reese bring you down here in the first place. His heavy boots clomped against the wooden stairs as he descended, and his shadow loomed over you, large and threatening. His expression was cold, his eyes calculating as they swept over you, like he was assessing just how broken you’d become since last seeing him.

“Thought maybe you’d die of boredom or despair by now,” he muttered, amusement tinged in his voice. “Guess you’ve got a little more fight in you than I thought.”

You swallowed hard, your body going rigid. You stayed still, instinct telling you that any sudden movement might provoke him. The air around him seemed darker, more dangerous than Reese’s jittery cowardice. This man was different—he was in control, and he wasn’t afraid of you.

“What do you want?” you finally managed to whisper, your voice shaky but defiant.

He stepped closer, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, the sound making your skin crawl. His smirk widened, and without warning, he crouched down, bringing his face level with yours.

“What I want,” he said, his voice low and mocking, “is to see if you’re worth anything besides your organs doll.”

The threat in his words hung heavy in the air, and you knew with chilling clarity that whatever came next, this man wasn’t here to make things easier for you.

The man crouched in front of you, his smirk growing wider as he watched the fear flicker across your face. You tried to keep still, to steady your breathing, but your body betrayed you—a small shiver ran through you, and you knew he’d seen it. His eyes glinted with satisfaction, feeding off your discomfort.

He leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his hot breath on your skin. "Reese might be too soft to touch a woman, but I’m not." His voice was a low, rumbling threat. "You’re property after all. But it'd be a shame to let sweet pussy go to waste before they cut you open."

You recoiled in horror at his depraved words, bile rising in your throat. The man straightened to his full height, towering over your prostrate form with an air of malevolent authority.

"So here's how this is going to go," he said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than your impending ravishment and dismemberment. "I'm going to have my fun..." He smirked cruelly. "And you are going to lay there and take it. Use any teeth and I'll rip them out of your head. Got it?"

Your mind raced, desperate to find some escape from the waking nightmare. But with Reese too cowardice to come down and interfere, and this sadistic brute clearly intent on violating you in the most degrading ways imaginable , you knew you were utterly at his mercy.

A strangled cry escaped your lips as tears streamed down your face. Despite your best efforts, the man's lecherous gaze only widened at the sight of you in distress. His grip on your arm tightened, filling you with pain.

"Go ahead and cry," he mocked. "It only turns me on even more, doll."

You screamed, desperately trying to free yourself and escape his grasp, but he was too strong. He slammed you back down onto the dirty mattress as you fought to kick him away. But he easily overpowered you and forced your leg back against the bed.

"Stop! Please!" you pleaded, horrified as he reached for the waistband of your sweatpants with his rough, calloused hands.

Panic surged through you as his fingers grazed your skin. In a burst of desperate strength, you twisted violently and managed to wrench your leg free. You kicked out hard, your foot connecting solidly with his jaw. He reeled back with a pained grunt, momentarily stunned.

"I said, lay there and take it" he growled, bringing his palm down against your face in a deafening slap. Angry hot pain radiates against your face and you cry out, tears spilling out faster now.

He wastes no time flipping you around, pinning you on your stomach against the bed. You sobbed loudly as he finishes pulling your sweatpants past your rear, rubbing his cold hands against the cloth of your underwear.

"Nice butt, smooth skin..." he growls, tugging off your underwear past your legs despite your struggle. "Oh this is gonna be so much fun."

Your underwear hits the concrete floor with a soft patter and your mind goes numb. There was truly no way out of this. Maybe the struggle was futile all along.

It was time to accept this.

Your body goes limp as you try to dissociate from the sound of the man unbuckling his belt. The sound of him shuffling with his underwear. The feel of his rough hands as he grabs your hips and raises them towards his groin, forcing you onto your elbows. You notice his breathing gets heavier as he takes in the sight of your exposed cunt.

"He shuffles in his pockets for a bit, looking for something. Your mind drifts off as he does so, thinking of the time Sylus had you in a similar position.

The morning he had promised to only do it once that day if you didn't fight him. You had picked the position yourself, not wanting to see him enter you again. At least that's what you told yourself.

Truthfully, you hated the way your face would heat up and your cunt grew wetter at the sight of his toned chest and stomach. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear as he praised you for taking him in all the way. You didn't know why your body reacted the way it did to him but it scared you. You had chalked it up to it just being an involuntary bodily reaction.

But there was no wetness when this beast touched you, no warmth or aching heat in your core.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tearing plastic.

Ah, he brought a condom. At least you wouldn't have to worry about catching any diseases before you were hacked to pieces.

You almost laugh at the thought but nothing was funny truly. The man grumbles a bit and rolls the condom onto his thick shaft gently, his knuckles popping as he slides it down. The smell of latex and lubricant fill the air momentarily. You wish you could gag at the smell of it, but you're too scared to move anymore. He positions himself, aligning his tip with you. You brace yourself for the pain that is sure to come, your heart pounding in your chest as he presses forward.

"If you make a sound, I'll beat your ass stupid. Got it?" he growls.

You say nothing as he begins trying to push into you, but he had clumsily misjudged where your slit was and kept missing. You couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh, this guy clearly didn't have much experience with the female body. You feel his hand slam down on your head, causing you to cry out.

"Ain't. Shit. Funny..." he snarled, gripping the side of your face even harder. You stifle another sob, trying your hardest to breathe against the mattress.

Still, he kept trying to force his cock inside you, every clumsy miss rubbing salt in the wound of your complete helplessness. He leans back momentarily to try and balance his cock against you. Your head throbs under his grip and you feel your eyes starting to gently close, sticky tears threaded between your lashes.

Your mind, desperate for an escape from the current nightmare, drifts back to Sylus. Memories of him rise to the surface, unbidden yet comforting in their own strange way. You recall his gentle gaze, the way he’d look at you when you opened your eyes in the morning—those moments when everything was still, and his presence felt like a soft cocoon of warmth around you. You’d never once seen him fall asleep before you. No, Sylus clearly only slept when it was "morning". Your circadian rhythms had always been completely opposite, and you knew, deep down, that he was likely watching over you as you slept.

It had never really felt invasive though. There was something about the way he looked at you that made you feel... cherished. As though, in his world of shadows, you were the one light he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

No one had ever looked at you with such adoring eyes—not even Xavier. Though Xavier had cared for you, and there were moments where you saw glimpses of that same tenderness, it was different with Sylus. Something deeper. Something more intense, as though you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

The thought made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. Even now, locked in this nightmare, it was Sylus’s gaze that haunted you—not Reese’s guilt, not Xavier’s concern, but the way Sylus had seen you, like you were fragile and powerful all at once.

Despite everything, he had shown you the most kindness out of anyone in this horrid place.

"Sylus..." your voice escapes in a broken whisper, a fragile plea lost beneath the weight of fear. Silent tears streak down your face, and your body shakes uncontrollably beneath the man's looming presence. His grunting had finally stopped, but the air between you buzzes with his barely-contained fury. His body is tense, frustrated—still unable to force himself into you.

With a snarl, he suddenly flips you onto your back, his hands rough and merciless. The room spins for a second, and your breath catches in your throat. He looms over you, his eyes dark and burning with a cruel light.

"What the hell did I say about talking?," he growls, voice low and dangerous. His hand rises, fist clenched, muscles rippling as he prepares to strike. Your heart lurches, and a terrified squeal slips out, unbidden. You squeeze your eyes shut, body curling in on itself instinctively, trembling as you wait for the blow to fall.

The seconds stretch unbearably long.

But the pain never comes.

Instead, the air shifts—thickening, buzzing with something far darker than the man hovering above you. His fist, still poised to strike, halts mid-air. His breath stutters. Eyes wide with shock, he suddenly clutches at his throat, his face twisting into something grotesque, panicked. His mouth opens as if to scream, but only a strangled gasp escapes.

"Is that anyway to talk to a lady?"

You blink, unsure if you’re seeing it right—red mist, thin tendrils coiling through the air like living smoke. It winds around him, constricting. His body spasms as if in a silent scream, but no sound comes, only those terrible, wet choking noises.

His eyes meet yours for a fleeting second, wide with horror, before his body jerks violently. With a force that seems inhuman, he’s wrenched from above you, flung across the room like a rag doll. The impact as he slams into the far wall is sickening—bones cracking against stone, the wet sound of flesh collapsing under the blow.

He screams in agony, his body convulsing violently on the hard concrete as his cries echo through the space.

Your breath comes in shallow, rapid gasps, the red mist still hanging in the air, pulsing like it has a life of its own before it slowly starts to fade. The air grows colder in its absence, the immediate threat gone, but the tension in your chest refuses to ease. It's over, but the chaos is still fresh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Then you see him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, his white hair touched with streaks of silver, and those unmistakable crimson eyes—sharp, intense, but not as lethal as they were a moment ago. There's no mistaking Sylus, even through the haze of confusion clouding your mind. You blink, trying to process it all. He’s here, finally, but the emotions swirling inside you are a tangled mess.

He steps toward you, slow and deliberate, his gaze softening the closer he gets. Despite the relief that comes with his presence, something else churns beneath the surface—frustration, maybe even anger. He’s here, but it took so long. Too long.

"Why do you look so shocked?" Sylus smirks, his voice low and teasing, as if the sight of him towering over you like this is the most natural thing in the world. He tilts his head, amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he studies your expression. "You called my name, didn’t you?"

You open your mouth, but no words come. Relief washes over you, but it’s tangled with confusion and resentment. Part of you wants to collapse into his arms, to finally feel safe, but another part of you burns with anxiety—why doesn't he look angry at you?

Sylus’s smirk softens into something more genuine, as if he senses the storm inside you. "I’m here now," he says, his voice quieter, almost gentle. But it doesn’t calm the whirlwind in your chest. You don’t know if you want to yell at him or thank him. Maybe both.

All you know is that the sight of him, standing there like he’s always been, stirs something deep within you that you can’t quite name. You're suddenly aware again of your half-nakedness and you rush to put back on your panties and sweatpants, much to Sylus's amusement.

“Wh-what took you so long?” you finally quip, a sharp edge to your voice as you lift your chin, deciding to meet his presence with defiance instead of relief. The condescension rolls off your tongue, even as your heart still pounds from the aftermath. You can feel the tension in your own body, a mix of trauma and pent-up frustration, but you mask it behind a cold stare.

Sylus moves toward the hyperventilating man still writhing on the ground, his gaze briefly flickering with something unreadable before a low chuckle escapes his lips. The sound reverberates through the room, rich and deep, completely unbothered by your biting words. His crimson eyes flick to you, amusement dancing in them, as if your sharp attitude was exactly what he’d anticipated.

“Is this the thanks I get, kitten?” he muses, his tone playful, yet carrying that underlying edge he always seems to have. A teasing smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as he towers over you, utterly relaxed, like your defiance is nothing more than an amusing game to him.

"I save you, and all you’ve got is attitude?" He raises an eyebrow, the smirk on his lips widening as if he’s enjoying this far too much. “You’re getting harder to please.”

The comment, laced with a playful challenge, lingers in the air. He seems utterly unaffected, like your frustration has only fueled his amusement, and for a moment, it’s hard to tell whether you want to snap back or let your guard down. That smirk of his—so infuriatingly calm and knowing—pulls you deeper into the whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Before you can spit out a retort, the sound of scuffling and harsh footsteps echoes down the stairwell. Your attention snaps toward the noise just as Reese is unceremoniously dragged down the steps, his pleas and panicked protests filling the room. The twins, Luke and Kieran, have him by the arms, hauling him down with little effort. Reese stumbles on the last step, crashing face-first onto the concrete.

Luke and Kieran exchange satisfied glances, snickering as they stand over him, a mixture of triumph and mockery in voices.

"We got him, boss," Luke announces with a smirk, nudging the groaning man with his boot. "Tried to run, but he fell flat on his face." He punctuates his words with another casual kick to Reese's side. "Much like he did just now."

Reese winces in pain, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he slowly lifts his head. His gaze darts frantically around the room, his face paling as he realizes who surrounds him. His eyes widen in terror, flitting between you, Sylus, and the man still crumpled on the ground beside him, writhing in pain.

"S-Sylus..." Reese stammers, his voice barely a whisper as it cracks with fear. His entire body begins to tremble, the weight of what he’s done crashing down on him. "You ran away from Sylus...?" The disbelief in his own voice is palpable, as if fleeing from someone like Sylus was a death sentence all on its own.

Sylus’s crimson eyes narrow as he watches you closely, his expression shifting to something darker—something possessive. He takes a deliberate step toward you, the casual ease he held moments ago now replaced with a quiet intensity. His gaze flicks to Reese, then back to you, and though his smile remains, there’s no warmth behind it.

"So," Sylus begins, voice smooth but tinged with something uneasy, "seems the two of you have gotten well acquainted?" The question feels loaded, not out of curiosity, but something more. His eyes bore into yours, as if searching for answers beyond your words. The smirk on his lips falters just slightly, betraying the irritation he’s trying to mask.

The tension between you grows thicker, his posture subtly shifting as if he’s placing himself between you and Reese. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t so much as glance at the trembling man on the ground. His focus is solely on you, as though the possibility of friendship with someone, especially another man, unsettles him more than the danger you just faced.

You shake your head immediately, the denial spilling from your lips without hesitation. "We’re not close!" you say quickly, the firmness in your voice leaving no room for doubt. "He’s no one to me."

Sylus’s eyes remain locked on yours, his crimson gaze intense, but you don’t falter. "Reese… he tricked me," you continue, the words coming faster now. "He’s the reason I’m down here in the first place. I didn’t come down here willingly. I followed him, stupidly thinking he was going to help me."

Your last words are filled with malice as your eyes flick to Reese, who cowers on the ground, unable to meet your glare. You shoot him a look of pure disdain, your anger boiling over at how easily he had deceived you, how he had dragged you into this mess.

Before you can say anything more, Sylus reaches out, his hand cool against your hair as he rubs the top of your head with an almost unnerving gentleness. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s the smug look on his face that catches you off guard.

“I know, sweetie,” Sylus says, his voice smooth and dripping with that signature arrogance. His eyes glitter with amusement as he watches you closely, his smirk deepening. “I watched you disappear into this house. I saw everything.” He speaks as if he had been in control of the situation from the start, his tone laced with confidence, as if he was always one step ahead.

"You were following me the entire time?" you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief as you try to piece together how much of this Sylus had been controlling from the shadows. Sylus merely chuckles, the sound rich and full of amusement, like your confusion was a source of entertainment for him.

"Something like that," he replies casually, his smirk widening. "I had Mephisto follow you."

As if on cue, swirl of red mist begins to materialize on Sylus's shoulder. The mist condenses around the form until, with a sharp, eerie caw, a large black crow appears, its wings flapping beside Sylus’s head. The bird’s eyes glow faintly, a reflection of the same crimson hue in Sylus’s gaze.

"Mephisto?" you and Reese say at the same time, your voices overlapping in disbelief.

You take a step back, staring at the bird in shock. "Mephisto... he's been that bird this whole time?" The revelation hits you like a slap in the face. You'd seen the bird before—many times, in fact—but you’d never thought it was more than just an ordinary creature. Now, the sight of it perched so confidently on Sylus’s shoulder, surrounded by that ominous red mist, makes your head spin.

Reese, still on the ground, stares up at the bird and then back at you, his eyes wide with fear and confusion. "I thought your name was Meph—" he begins, his voice trembling as he looks between you and Sylus, but his words are abruptly cut off.

Sylus’s expression hardens instantly, the playful amusement evaporating as he glares down at Reese with pure disdain. His eyes darken, the malice in them palpable as he takes a step toward Reese, who shrinks back, trembling.

"Don’t talk to her," Sylus snaps, his voice cold and sharp, dripping with venom. The possessiveness in his tone is undeniable, a clear warning that Reese’s mere presence, let alone his attempt to speak to you, is unforgivable in Sylus’s eyes. The tension in the room grows suffocating, the danger swirling around Sylus like a storm barely contained, and you can’t help but feel the weight of his protectiveness—both unsettling and strangely reassuring.

Mephisto caws again, the shrill sound echoing through the room as if punctuating Sylus’s command.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground. Your head spins, barely able to process what's going on here. You suddenly feel dizzy, as if the room was getting smaller and smaller.

You hadn't truly escaped from him. Not once, the entire time you had been gone. He had been watching. His influence here stretched farther than you could ever imagine.

Reese looks away, trembling on the ground, clearly too terrified to challenge Sylus any further. His presence becomes insignificant in the midst of everything else crashing down around you. Your head spins, the room seeming to close in on you as the weight of the situation presses against your chest. It’s suddenly hard to breathe, as if the air itself is suffocating you. You try to steady yourself, but a dizzying realization takes hold.

Every step you’d taken, every move you thought was yours alone—he had been watching.

Mephisto.

Sylus had seen everything, every moment you thought you were free, unraveling in front of your eyes now like a cruel illusion. His influence, his reach—it stretched farther than you could have ever imagined.

The invisible leash you thought you’d slipped off, the one you were so sure you'd broken, had never left your neck at all. It had been there the whole time, just waiting to tighten when he decided.

Your pulse quickens, panic settling in as the walls seem to close in tighter, the room shrinking around you. The thought of being watched, controlled, all while you believed you had any autonomy—it sends a cold wave of dread down your spine. Sylus’s smirk, the way he speaks so casually about it, only amplifies the feeling that you were never really out of his grasp.

He knew. He always knew where you were.

And here he stands, calm and possessive, like he’s merely reclaiming what was his all along.

The weight of it all becomes too much to bear, and your legs give way beneath you. You crumble to the floor, feeling as though the world has closed in around you. The realization sinks deeper, suffocating you with the cold, hard truth—despite all your efforts, all your fighting, you’re right back where you started. The leash had never been cut. You hadn’t escaped. And now, the path ahead is one you thought you'd left behind.

Your body trembles, you let out a sob, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions—fear, frustration, resignation. But before the panic can fully take over, you feel a hand brush against your shoulder, light and reassuring. Sylus crouches down beside you, his presence filling the space, his voice low and deceptively soothing.

"Shh, kitten," he murmurs softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a caress, though it only twists the knife deeper in your chest. "It’s alright. I’ve found you, its okay." His tone is affectionate, but there’s something twisted lurking beneath the surface, a dark possessiveness wrapped in that comforting voice.

"You're mine again," Sylus whispers, his voice soft but laced with an iron-clad certainty. His fingers delicately trace small circles on your back, sending involuntary shivers up your spine. You don't look at him, unable to meet his eyes. Your chest tightens, and you can feel the threat of tears building, teetering dangerously close to spilling over.

As much as you wanted to leave this wretched place, to escape the nightmare of it all, the thought of being trapped with him—completely under his control—felt just as suffocating. Maybe more. Yet, despite that suffocating feeling, your body betrays you. You’re not pulling away from him. You’re not resisting.

Why weren’t you leaning away from him right now?

"Don't cry," he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your skin, drowning out the cold, damp air of the basement. "Not now. Not in front of them."

Before you can process his words, the room fills with a new, horrific sound. Reese and the bleeding man on the ground suddenly scream, the agony ripping from their throats. Red tendrils of mist swirl violently around their bodies, coiling like snakes ready to strike. The sound of broken bones echoes sharply through the space as Reese is slammed into the back wall next to his fallen comrade, the impact brutal, unforgiving. The sight sends a fresh wave of horror washing over you.

You instinctively shift your gaze toward the carnage, wanting to see what’s happening—but Sylus’s hand shoots up, his fingers gripping your chin firmly. With a gentle yet unyielding force, he turns your face back to him, refusing to let you look anywhere else but into his crimson eyes.

"Look at me," he commands softly, his tone dark but calm, as if the violence behind you was nothing but a trivial distraction. His fingers are warm against your skin, his touch disturbingly tender despite the chaos around you.

"Your tears, your pain, your misery," Sylus whispers, his voice dripping with a dark intimacy as his hand moves gently to your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping away a tear that hasn’t yet fallen, his touch both tender and terrifying. "It all belongs to me."

His crimson eyes lock onto yours, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a vice. He leans in closer, his bourbon cologne enveloping your senses, his presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

"I’m the only one," he murmurs, his voice a possessive, almost dangerous softness, "who gets to see you cry."

The declaration sends a chill down your spine, and your heart clenches at the weight of it. There's a dark finality in his words—a twisted claim over every ounce of your suffering, every emotion that was once yours, now his to control. The room feels smaller, the air thinner, as if everything in this moment is solely for him, as though the very act of your tears belongs to him and him alone.

You can feel the tears threatening again, but now even that feels like giving in to him—another part of yourself slipping through your fingers, taken by the man who holds you so tightly in his grip, both physically and mentally. And as his thumb lingers on your cheek, his gaze never wavering, you realize just how much he's wrapped himself in every aspect of your life.

The screaming in the room builds to a deafening crescendo, filling every inch of the space with the sounds of agony. Reese’s voice cuts through the chaos, desperate, pleading.

“Please, make him stop! Ask him to stop!” Reese begs, his voice cracking, raw from pain and terror. His broken body trembles against the wall, red mist still coiling around him like a vice, squeezing the life out of him with every passing second. He looks at you, eyes wide, desperate, his fear palpable.

"I-I helped you! R-remember? I'm sorry!"

For a moment, you hesitate, frozen in place, the weight of his suffering tugging at some distant part of your conscience. Should you take pity on him? The thought flickers briefly in your mind. But then you remember. The lies, the manipulation, how he had dragged you into this nightmare without a second thought. Your heart hardens.

You look at him, your voice cold and unwavering.

“Go to hell, Reese.”

The words cut through the air, sharp and final. Reese’s eyes widen in horror, but before he can speak another word, Sylus moves with a calm, terrifying ease. Without a second thought, he reaches into his coat, pulling out a sleek black pistol. The room falls eerily silent for a brief second, the chaos holding its breath.

And then, without a word or hesitation, Sylus points the gun at Reese and pulls the trigger.

The shot rings out, and Reese’s body goes limp, his head lolling to the side as blood pools beneath him. The life drains from his eyes in an instant. The silence that follows is deafening, the weight of what just happened settling heavily in the air.

You stare at the scene in shock, unable to fully process how quickly it had all happened. Your breath catches in your throat, your mind racing as you look to Sylus. But he simply shrugs, completely unfazed, his expression calm and even slightly amused.

“I sent him to hell, just like you said, sweetie,” Sylus says casually, tucking the pistol away as if nothing had happened. His voice is smooth, disturbingly nonchalant, like this was just another task to cross off his list. His eyes, however, flicker with something darker—satisfaction, perhaps, or just a quiet thrill at doing what he believed you wanted.

Your stomach twists, a mixture of shock and disbelief churning inside you. Sylus turns his gaze back to you, his smirk still present, as if waiting for your approval or reaction. You say nothing, just watching as Reese's once lively body slumped to the floor.

Sylus then turns his attention to the last man still clinging to life, his crimson eyes narrowing with cold calculation. Without a word, the red mist surrounding him begins to swirl, thickening and intensifying with an ominous hum. The tendrils of mist snake their way toward the man, wrapping around him like a tightening noose.

The man’s breathing becomes erratic, desperate gasps for air as his body convulses. He tries to scream once more, but no sound escapes his throat as the mist constricts further, crushing the last remnants of life out of him. His limbs jerk, his eyes wide with terror as the pressure grows unbearable.

Sylus watches with a dark, detached satisfaction, his hand slightly raised as if guiding the mist with an almost casual precision. Then, Sylus clenches his fist. And with a final, sickening crack, the man’s body gives way. The force of Sylus’s power snaps through him like a vice tightening too fast. His chest caves in, bones splintering as the red mist crushes him entirely.

A grotesque splatter erupts as his body meets the tiled shower wall behind him, his carnage painting it in violent shades of red. Blood and tissue streak down the wall, dripping in a slow, macabre trail, the remnants of his existence.

You flinch, your breath catching in your throat at the brutality of it all, but Sylus remains calm, lowering his hand as the mist dissipates, his expression indifferent to the destruction he’s caused.

"Sorry," Sylus says smoothly, his tone as casual as if he had just finished a routine task. His gaze slides back to you, eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "I didn't want them breathing the same air as you any longer."

The room is deathly silent now, save for the slow drip of blood from the walls, and the overwhelming finality of it all settles in your chest. You can't tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene, the shock numbing your senses as Sylus steps in front of you, his presence once again wrapping around you like a suffocating mist. His dark eyes bore into yours, a predator sizing up its prey, his calmness only amplifying the terror that gnaws at the edges of your mind.

You flinch as the squelch of his shoes on the blood-soaked floor breaks the silence, your heart pounding in your throat. Every instinct tells you to run, but your legs refuse to obey, frozen in the icy grip of fear. Sylus tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile.

"Woo hoo! Boss is so cool!" Luke chimes in, his bubbly voice shattering the eerie stillness. He gives Kieran a high five before erupting into a fit of laughter. The contrast between his cheerful tone and the grotesque scene feels jarring, almost surreal. You glance at him, baffled by the carefree attitude, as if the carnage before him was nothing more than an impressive show.

He bounces on his feet, voice shrill with admiration as he watches Sylus with the same excitement one might have for a favorite hero. The dissonance is unsettling, pulling you deeper into the spiraling nightmare, where the boundaries between reality and madness blur with each passing second.

Sylus doesn’t react to Luke’s enthusiasm, his focus entirely on you.

Sylus, now visibly more at ease after the extermination of the two men, steps forward with a calm confidence. His eyes never leave yours as he crouches down and effortlessly grabs you from the floor, hoisting you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing. The abruptness of it sends a jolt through your body, and you instinctively try to push away, but his grip only tightens—firm, yet almost playful, like a cat owner gently restraining a stubborn pet.

His chest rumbles with a low chuckle, and when he speaks, his voice is laced with dark amusement. "Ah ah, I won’t let my kitten scatter off a second time."

Your body begins to tremble uncontrollably in his arms, the weight of the situation finally crashing over you like a wave. You had escaped—however briefly—and now you were trapped again. The suffocating inevitability of it wraps itself around you, a crushing reminder that there was bound to be a punishment for trying to flee. Your mind flashes with memories of him slicing open your arm, the cold, detached precision of it, and you wince as the old wound aches in response.

"Please... I'm sorry," you whine, your voice barely above a whisper as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "Don’t hurt me again, don’t punish me."

Sylus tilts his head slightly, his dark eyes watching you with that unsettling mixture of amusement and something that borders on tenderness. "Sweetie, it’s okay," he whispers, his tone disturbingly gentle. He reaches up to brush a bit of dirt from your face, his fingers cold against your skin. "Do you really think I’m going to hurt you? Am I that scary?"

Despite the soft cadence of his voice, the dissonance between his words and the twisted affection in his gaze only amplifies your fear. He holds you securely as he begins to ascend the stairs, leaving the bloodied carnage in the basement to rot, a gruesome memory that would never wash away.

As you both make your way out of the metal hatchet you spot various bags filled with small white powdery substances settled on the couch and tables.

Drugs. Reese had been tricking girls and trading them for drugs.

The air grows cooler as you pass through the broken, dingy living room and out into the crisp, suffocating night of the N109 Zone. With a shrill caw, and a flatter of his wings, Mephisto takes flight and disappears into the night sky.

A dark car with blacked-out windows waits for you at the curb, its ominous presence sending your heart racing again. You think about making a run for it—just for a fleeting second—but that hope vanishes as the twins scatter hurriedly to the front seats, and Sylus pushes you both into the back with an effortless shove.

The car roars to life, and the world outside begins to blur as you realize the inevitable: you were headed back to your cage, the one you had fought so desperately to leave. Sylus keeps you firmly straddled on his lap, his grip unyielding, as if he thought you’d vanish into the night if he let go for even a moment. His eyes, sharp and predatory, stay locked on you, unblinking and watchful.

For a while, the only sound is the hum of the engine as it cuts through the night, the silence between you as suffocating as his hold. Then, suddenly, Sylus lets out a long sigh, breaking the quiet as he leans forward, his face burying into the curve of your neck. The unexpected closeness makes your skin prickle. He nuzzles into your skin like a bird seeking warmth, though you doubted you smelled like anything but blood and grime.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice soft but strained, as though it carries a deep weight of worry. He shifts, tilting his head up to look at you, his gaze surprisingly gentle, like someone gazing at something precious. His eyes search yours, a strange vulnerability flickering behind the usual cold dominance. "So, so much."

Something tightens in your chest at the sight of him looking at you this way, as though you were his treasure, something he had longed for. The sincerity in his expression shakes you, confusing your thoughts even further. Could he possibly mean it?

"Did you miss me?" he asks, his lips curling into a small, almost playful smile.

You just stare at him, uncertain how to respond. The words lodge in your throat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn your head away, avoiding his eyes. The truth is, you don’t know what to feel. Had you missed him? Or were you just desperate to be saved, no matter who?

He chuckles softly at your reaction, resting his head gently against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. "It’s okay," he murmurs. "You don’t have to answer."

As the car speeds deeper into the dark, your mind begins to spiral, thoughts tangling into knots you can’t unravel. As his arms tighten around you, keeping you pinned in place, you ponder a persistent thought.

Sylus had said he wouldn’t hurt you—but he never said he wouldn’t punish you.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: See Author's Note for Summary. Contains usual tags. Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Read on A03!

Chapter 2

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.

Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.

You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.

You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.

Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.

Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.

“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.

“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.

“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”

“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”

“You were going to shoot me?!”

“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.

“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”

“You’d live.”

“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”

“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”

You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.

“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”

You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.

You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.

“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”

You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”

“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”

You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?

Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.

You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.

“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”

Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.

“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”

“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”

“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”

“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”

“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”

Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.

“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”

“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”

The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.

“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”

“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.

You agreed.

But Edgar was right.

“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”

Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”

She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.

Something calm.

City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.

You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.

Two.

One.

You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.

The world lit up.

It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.

But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.

The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.

You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.

Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.

It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.

Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.

You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.

————

The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.

The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.

“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”

"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”

“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”

Edgar sighed. “I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”

“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”

“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”

“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”

And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.

“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.

You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.

“Sure, just count down before you–“

You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.

Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.

“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”

Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“

“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”

He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.

“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”

“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”

“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”

It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”

“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”

Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.

But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.

You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.

“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”

A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”

“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.

Do not waste yourself.

You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.

Do not waste yourself.

You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.

But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.

No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.

Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.

Do not waste yourself.

An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.

Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.

——-

“No. No fucking way.”

The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.

“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”

“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”

“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.

“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”

“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.

Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”

“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.

“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”

“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”

You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”

MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”

“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.

“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.

“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”

Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”

Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.

“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”

“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”

“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.

“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”

Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”

“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”

Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”

“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.

“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”

Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”

“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326  @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”  

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

[nocasdatsgay]

A Lesson in Heartbreak

Part 1 of 3: The Night it Fell Apart

Rating: T | Word Count: 2082 | Pairing: Azris/Reader

Summary: Eris and Azriel made promises they didn’t keep. When you confront them about it, Eris says some things he instantly regrets. Now him and Azriel have to fix what they broke.

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist| Read on A03| Read Below

Warnings: Angst, Eris has a sharp tongue

A/N: @daycourtofficial asked if we would ever see that big fight mentioned in Even High Lords Need a Break and I was like sure why not aka let me channel my upsetti spaghetti emotions into this

Tagging: @hieragalbatorixdottir @mybestfriendmademe

Your food was cold but not as cold as the empty dining room you sat in. You’d stared at your plate in silence, letting tears fall before wiping them away with your napkin. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat. First due to waiting, then due to nausea from the realization they weren’t coming.

They promised, played in your mind over and over.

It was a betrayal you’d never felt before. The hollowness in your chest was eating away at you. You’d blocked the bond, determined that they would have to come of their own accord. But an hour passed and neither of them showed. After one last wipe of your face, you stood and tossed the napkin onto the table. Anger burned in you for a moment at the utter waste of food in front of you.

You left and found Azriel first.

He was in the upper library, books scattered on the table. The second he looked up at you, his face fell. You didn’t say anything, just stared with anger in your chest and tears falling again. He appeared in front of you, shadows weaving all around you.

“You promised,” was all you could get out.

Azriel fell to his knees, wings flaring out.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I know I promised. I wasn’t paying attention to the time.” Regret etched in his voice and features. “I was just busy-“

“And your shadows didn’t remind you?” Azriel’s silence was deafening. He reached for you but you stepped back. His shadows left you as well. “Where is Eris?”

“His office, but-“ you didn’t listen to what else he said.

You winnowed to the High Lord’s main office door. Without knocking, you threw it open. Eris was hunched over papers himself, fingers stained with ink as they ran through his hair. He didn’t even look at you.

“Eris.” He still didn’t look up. “Eris!”

“What?” He snapped, finally looking at you. He frowned as he studied your face. His tone was softer when he asked, “Why are you crying?”

“You don’t remember?” You were shaking, grief and anger building further.

He cursed, realization washing over him. “Dinner.”

“Yes. Dinner.” You gritted out. “You promised me that you and Az would be there.” Like you promised the past several weeks, you thought but bit it back.

“I know, I know.” He moved papers on his desk around. “But the High Lord meeting is in a week. There are things we have to plan for, it’s taking longer than-“

“You said that last week. And the week before that. Then it was tithe you had to work on. These are just excuses!” You screamed. “Neither of you showed! You promised!”

“Do not raise your voice at me.”

A command, one that had you clenching your fists at your side. He was on his feet, hands planted on his desk and he looked at you like he did his unruly governors. You could see fire in his eyes as he continued.

“I am genuinely sorry that I missed dinner. However, some things are more important than a meal. I’m the High Lord and I have responsibilities. We are hosting this time and we have to make certain everything is in order. You would know this if you bothered to help.”

You went still, even tears streaming down your face seemed to halt. You had heard of Eris’s cruel tongue for centuries. You never dreamed it would be directed at you.

“You told me I didn’t have to,” you whispered, your voice steadier than your body.

“Exactly, so you do not get to complain when Azriel and I are busy,” he snapped back. “You knew what you were getting into when we mated.”

Eris may as well have stabbed you.

“I suppose I did.” You suddenly felt like someone else was talking, with how calm the words came out. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”

You kept the bond shut, winnowing to your rooms. You used your magic to seal the room, barring even Azriel’s shadows. You went straight to the office, pulling out pen and paper while you sniffled and wiped your face with your sleeve. The first letter was rushed and sloppy- a letter to Samira, and sent it with a flick of your wrist. The second you took a deep breath before writing down where you were going. You sealed it with your personal seal and took it to the bedroom, tossing it onto the duvet.

You pulled out a travel bag and threw in clothes, not bothering to make sure they were neat and folded. You had to get out of Autumn before Azriel’s shadows told on you. You had to get out so you could process what happened. With your bag stuffed, you thanked the mother when a letter returned to you. You ripped it open. Samira was in Summer but spoke to Tarquin and granted you permission to travel.

You stuffed the letter into your bag and winnowed. One moment you were in your bedroom, the next you were outside, fae lights gleaming against the tan stone and reflecting off the sea glass doors in front of you. To your right Samira had been waiting for you. She was as beautiful as ever in a seafoam Summer Dress, her skin darker no doubt from the sun and her black hair braided back. She took one look at your face and her gaze softened. Just being in her presence broke you. She wrapped her arms around you and you sobbed.

“Let’s go inside,” she whispered, patting your back. “Cress has a room being made for you. We can get some tea and talk.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes again and followed her into the place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Az was panicking.

We told you, his shadows hissed. You don’t listen. Our mate is angry.

“Shut up!” He bellowed.

His shadows scattered. He got to his feet, hands shaking. How could he have done this to you? He never made you cry- well, not like this. And his silence when you asked him if his shadows had told him, the betrayal on your face gutted him. Yes, they had told him. He kept saying he would go in a few minutes. He didn’t realize a few minutes turned into a fucking hour.

He went to the table, closing books and stacking papers to put away. You left in a flurry when he told you where Eris was. Az had to find you and apologize. He’d get on his knees again if he had too. Maybe Eris was already apologizing for both of them, considering you implied he didn’t show either. He ran his hands through his hair. After this conference, he wasn’t going to do another damn thing for the next two months. He owed it to you.

Azriel sent the papers to his personal study with magic and took the books over to a trolley. He didn’t notice that his shadows went missing. He made his way down the stairs, mind buzzing with ideas and thoughts. Thoughts of what to say to you to convince you he was sorry. He didn’t make it down the stairs, however. Shadows returned in full force, swarming around him. All of them spoke to him over each other.

Mate. Gone. Blocked. Gone. Letter. Read it. Read it. Read it.

Something fell onto the stair he was standing on. A letter. He picked it up, confusion on his face as he looked it over. It was your seal. One you only used to correspond with other courts. He ripped it open, unfolding the paper inside. He skimmed the first two lines and his heart felt like it stopped. He read it again, thinking he was misunderstanding it.

She locked us out. Gone. Our mate upset her. Shadows hissed.

His breath quickened and his heart raced. He read the letter again fully. He felt like the air was punched out of him. You left. You left. And the words were blurring as his eyes watered. What you wrote didn’t make sense. Then he remembered you went to Eris when you left him.

Sorrow was replaced with rage. Eris had a temper. Always had. He had a sharp tongue as well. He did or said something to make you leave. He had too. Your side of the bond was silent, no doubt to help you slip away unnoticed. Eris however, Azriel sent all his fury to him as he winnowed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris had been staring at the itinerary in front of him for half an hour. Yet if anyone asked him what it said, he wouldn’t be able to answer. He had let his temper get away from him. He swore the day he killed Beron he would never act like him and yet- you came into his office like a summer storm, eyes and cheeks red from crying. He knew instantly he was the cause. And gods was he angry.

He was so angry at himself for forgetting again. For failing you again. But all that came from his mouth was venom he’d used for centuries to protect himself. He was wrong and he knew it. He wanted to tell you but you had shut down the bond. No matter how much he tugged and clawed, he couldn’t get through to you. Eris figured if he waited, the both of you would calm down and he could apologize. He would beg on his knees for you to forgive him.

A moment passed and he suddenly felt rage. Not from you, but from Azriel. In the next moment, the room filled with darkness, only blue siphons lighting the room. Eris was out of his chair but not from his own accord. The chair toppled and Azriel had Eris pressed against the wall.

“What did you do?” Azriel growled.

“Azriel.” Eris could feel his flames wanting to rise. “You better have a good reason-.”

“She left.” Az’s hand punched the wall beside Eris, the blue light pulsing on his siphons.

“What?”

The shadows didn’t let up, darkness still covering the room.

“She left Autumn.” Eris could see the tears now. “She left us!” Before Eris could ask further a note was shoved against his chest. “What the fuck did you do, Eris?”

“Me?” He didn’t even look at the paper yet. “If she told me correctly, you missed dinner as well. And you have less of an excuse than I do.”

Anger flashed in the bond and Eris had to duck to keep Az’s fist from connecting with him. Eris winnowed away to the door, out of the shadows and into the light. Some shadows were crawling on him still, acting agitated. Eris finally looked down at the letter.

I’m going to stay with a friend. Do not look for me. I will not burden you both any longer. I should have known when I mated to a High Lord and his consort, I would never be as important as the court. I was a fool. You’ll never be subjected to my foolishness again.

Eris stumbled, falling back against the door frame. Realization sank in and he read the letter again. You actually left. It was all his fault. His mind said this was ridiculous; it was just dinner. But his heart knew it wasn’t. It was not coming to bed until you’d fallen asleep, rising before you woke. It was the pleading looks you gave when you asked him or Azriel to join you even if for a moment. It was how he hadn’t shown you an ounce of his love for months now.

Then shadows suddenly parted and Eris looked up to see Azriel, wild eyed with siphons still pulsing.

“She’s in Summer,” he came around the desk to Eris, grabbing him by the shirt. “We have to go get her. We have to bring her back.”

“Get a hold of yourself.” It was Eris’s turn to grab Az and flip them around so Az was pinned to the wall, with his wings splayed out. “We cannot just winnow into Summer. Where did they say she went?”

“The palace.” Fresh tears rolled down Az’s face. “She banished the shadows when they found her. She blocked our rooms the same way when she-“

Eris felt the wave of sorrow from Az. He grabbed him and pulled him against him. Eris didn’t like crying but he couldn’t help but blink repeatedly, failing to drive those tears away. He would fix this. He had to.

Part 2

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 3

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.8k words - A03 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, established throuple, relationship issues, eating issues, depression, anxiety, angst, reader is bad at feelings, caretaking, bathing, blow jobs, face fucking, praise kink, emotional hurt/comfort. The guys find you at the hotel.

When you open the door, Johnny’s heart breaks. 

It’s obvious you haven’t been well. The circles under your eyes are sickly and off color, worse than when you stay up to wait for them to get home, and you look weary, overwhelmed, exhausted. Your hair is stiff, pulled out of your face but heavy around your forehead, and your skin is dry, an easy tell that you haven’t been drinking enough water. Johnny suspects that your clothes are dirty as well, judging by the stain on the front of your shirt above your breasts, and his heart skips when he realizes it’s his old t shirt, the one you usually wear around the flat. It all makes Johnny’s head spin, makes him feel like he’s got a thousand pounds sitting on his chest and when he looks closer, he can just see the broken capillaries spreading across your cheeks like spider’s webs. Did they do this to you?

“Oh, love.” He whispers. Your eyes water, and he feels the weight of his own fear, his own sadness tenfold. You’re hurting. You’re hurting so badly. How did they not see this? 

“Let us in.” Simon demands, and you chew on your lip. “Please. Whatever it is, we can fix it darling. Just let us in.” Simon’s voice softens, slipping into something he only reserves for you, and Johnny reaches for your hand, it’s ice-cold chill startling against his own.

When you don’t pull away from him, a small seed of hope blooms in his heart.

Something wakes him from his sleep. Maybe it’s the low drone of the television from the living room, or the fact that the middle and left sides of the bed are completely empty. He sits up, groggily, straining to listen, but all he hears is the laugh track of a sitcom. 

When he enters the living room, he raises an eyebrow. Simon is sitting in his boxers, on the floor, back against the couch, remote in one hand, and your hand in other. Your fingers look so small intertwined with his, your arm draping down over his shoulder from where you’re lying on your belly, mouth open, dead asleep. He rubs his eyes. 

“What’s this?” He keeps his voice low. 

“She couldn’t get back to sleep. Didn’t want ta wake you, but she was keepin’ me up, thrashing around.” Johnny frowns. He traces a thumb across your forehead, moving a stray piece of hair behind your ear. Simon strokes his fingers up his thigh, rubbing the back of his leg, his skin hot in the thick of the summer night. He glances at the clock on the stove before settling on the rug too, notching his head next to your arm, and Simon shifts to accommodate him before turning to press his lips against his forehead. 

“Was it a nightmare?” 

“She’s still havin’ em.” Simon whispers, and he leans to pull him closer. “Didn’t want to talk about it.” He sighs. 

“What’re we watchin’?”  

You settle on the edge of the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest, eyes unmoving from the floor. Simon stands against the dresser directly in front of you, arms crossed, body stiff and thrumming with concern, strung tight with stress. The room is quiet, lit only by a small lamp that you have flicked on, and he tries not to look too closely at anything, at this place you’ve been living in when you should have been at home. 

“Love?” Johnny clears his throat, sitting down next to you, tilting his head to catch your gaze. He avoids looking at your blood crusted cuticles, or the crescent moon marks that are imprinted in your palms. “When was the last time you ate?” You shrug.

“Yesterday.” Simon shifts his weight, as in tune to the waver in your voice, the tell of the lie, as Johnny is. He shoots Johnny a look, before going down on a knee in front of you, hands gentle, a palm cupping your calf and giving it a squeeze before releasing. You don’t pull away. A knot of tension releases between the two of them.

“Will you tell us why you left?” Johnny tries to keep from pleading, but he knows he will beg you if he has to. Beg you to tell him why, beg you to come home, beg you to let them back in. Your eyes dart back and forth between them, your fingers nervously pulling at the ends of your hair, and Simon cuts him a stern look, a very clear message: Slow the fuck down. Don’t push her. Tears drip over your cheeks onto your knees and then your voice cracks.

“You were g-gone for almost thirty days. What if, what if you never came back? What if you just picked up and left? Started over? You ha- have each other… you don’t need me.” A chasm splits open inside Johnny, splintering across the three of you, the weight of your fear and doubt bubbling to surface, pushing past the truths they’ve worked so hard to make you see.

“We could never do that. You’re a part of us.” Simon’s tone is serious. 

“You mean the world to us, darling. We don’t want to live in it without you.” Johnny says, fingers grazing along your shoulder.

“Don’t lie.” You croak, and he frowns.

“He’s not lying.” Simon says but you don’t respond.

“We love you.” Johnny whispers, and your eyes slam shut, tears spilling out between your lashes. “You know that, don’t ya?”

“N-no.” you cover your face with your hands.

“Yes, you do.” Simon pulls one of your hands away from your face, taking it in his own. “I know it’s hard, when we’re away-”

“No you don’t!” you sob as you cut him off. “You have each other! You always have each other. I f-feel… I feel like I’m on the outside.” Your breath hitches. “I always feel like that.” You tell them miserably and Johnny’s heart breaks for you.

“You’re supposed to talk to us, when you’re feelin’ bad about things.” Simon’s voice is gentle, as he tries to soothe you, tries to ground you. “Look at me, darling.” You turn your head, eyes up and full of trust, searching between the two of them.

You still trust him. You still trust Simon. There’s hope. 

“I know.” You whisper.

“It doesn’t work unless we’re honest, and we tell each other how we’re feeling, even when it’s like this.” Johnny keeps his tone soft, but it’s heavy with emotion, drowning beneath your own sadness, the feeling of your despair.

"I know that. I do… but it doesn’t change anything.” Panic erupts through his veins like he’s been doused with cold water. Doesn’t change anything? Doesn’t change what? That you left? “It won’t change the fact that I’ll always feel like this… like I’m separate from you.” You blink furiously, tears trickling down your cheeks, chest heaving with shallow breaths, and Johnny feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“Alright, darling. That’s okay.” Simon settles you, and Johnny gives him an incredulous look. Alright? Alright?! On a base level, he knows what Simon is doing, but it does nothing to quell the storm of feelings rising inside of him. They could lose you. What if they can’t fix this?  “Johnny’s gonna get ya some food.” He grimaces and pulls his phone free to search for the room service menu, looking for something that will be easy on your stomach without overwhelming you. “D’you think you could manage a shower while we wait for it to be brought up?” He holds his breath. You could say no. You could tell them to get out. It took your deepest level of trust, to let them care for you like this, and in this moment, it felt like it wasn’t there.

When you don’t say anything in response and nod instead, he lets the air leak from his nose slowly.

“A bath.” You whisper, eyes still trained on the floor. You look at them intently for a moment before you get to your feet without another word and disappear into the bathroom. When the door clicks shut, Johnny whirls.

“I want to take her home. She’s not thinkin’ clearly.”

“We have to go at her pace, you heard what she said.” Something sad flickers across Simon’s face before he smooths it away. “She needs time, to remember. That’s all.” He tries to reason, and Johnny knows he’s right, but he can’t fight the burning sensation in his chest when he thinks about how you’ve been alone, in this room, for the last week and half, falling apart without them.

“Si. She…”  He doesn’t have to finish the sentence.

“I know, Johnny. I know.” His partner’s fist is clenched around the balaclava, eyes tight with worry. They both look towards the closed door, and then Johnny glances down to the glaring light of his phone.

“There’s no soup.”

“Toast?”

“And a fried egg, if she can get it down.” Simon gives a curt nod of agreement, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get it sorted. Yeah?” Johnny presses his nose to Simon’s neck and takes a deep breath to steady himself.

“Yeah.” He motions to the bathroom. “Join ya in a minute.”

By the time he has the food ordered, you’re already sitting in the tub, water thundering from the faucet, knees pulled back up under your chin, skin dotted with goosebumps. There’s enough room for him to get in behind you, like he usually does, but he doesn’t want to push you, so he reminds himself to be patient. Simon is sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, murmuring something softly that you’re occasionally nodding at until you speak.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” You croak.

“It’s alright, darling. We’re just happy you’re safe.” Simon reassures, and when you don’t say anything else, panic swirls in the pit of Johnny’s stomach. Be patient. He needs to be patient. 

He can be patient, but he doesn’t have to fight fair. Not when it comes to you.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asks you sweetly, and you nod almost immediately. Later, he hopes, once you’ve pulled out of this and you’re all together again, you’ll give him shit about using your weakness against you like that. He hopes. 

You tilt your head back eagerly, eyes slipping closed while the tips of his fingers massage your scalp, and he alternates between soft and firm pressure, making sure he gets the lather as deep into your roots as gently as he can.

“I missed you.” It’s barely a whisper, a light whistle on your lips, but they both hear it, and Simon reaches for your hand, large fingers folding over yours, his touch gentle and slow while Johnny rubs the pad of his thumb along your shoulder blade before he speaks.

“Not as much as we missed you.”

“Oh shit.” You giggle from where you sit between Johnny’s legs and he presses his palm to your mouth playfully, lips grazing along your shoulder. Simon’s footsteps thunk down the hall, his voice calling both of your names. 

“Shhh.” Johnny murmurs, the warm bath water wrapping the two of you in a soft, sublime feeling that’s gone straight to his head. When the bathroom door swings open, you raise an arm like you’re dancing, and beam. 

“Welcome home!” Johnny tries not to laugh at the serious expression on Simon’s face, and he snakes an arm around your middle to pull you all the way back into his chest. 

“Having a relaxing day?” Simon dead pans, and you nod, back of your head against Johnny, face turned upward to stare at Si who’s dressed in uniform, no doubt completely exhausted after a long day of travel to the ‘local’ office and back. Water beads off your skin when you push off from Johnny to rise to your knees, and he can’t help but reach out and trace a line across your hip while your palm slides up the front of Simon’s pants, leaving wet spots in its wake as you lick your lips. Johnny leans all the way back, fitting into the curve of the tub, arms on either side, and watches you pull the zipper down to free Simon’s cock from his briefs. When you glance back at him, he gives you a smile in return, excitement settling in his stomach as he watches you, his own hand sinking beneath the surface of the water to palm his cock, his eyes never leaving where you’re stroking Simon, your head tipped backwards and eyes up. 

“Darling…” Simon grunts, the word a harsh exhale, and your mouth cracks into a smile where you’re wrapped around him, your tongue flat against your teeth, jaw relaxed as you work. His hand drifts down to the top of your head when your lips part around length of his cock and a shiver runs down Johnny’s spine, the weight of love, of adoration vibrating in his bones.

His. This was his. You were both his. 

Your free hand reaches for him in the water, and he laces his fingers in yours with a reassuring squeeze before sitting up on his knees himself, his body pressing against you, gentle fingers wrapping around your throat to still your motion. 

“Hold still, darling.” He coaches, reaching for Simon’s belt loop to pull him closer, folding his grasp along his hip until he’s pressing into the back of your mouth. “Fuck her throat, love. That’s what she wants.” You try to nod enthusiastically, and Johnny chuckles, brushing a kiss across your cheekbone. “Isn’t she sweet?” He asks, and Simon’s hand tightens in your hair, just a tad, enough to hold you steady as he begins to rock his hips back and forth. “That’s it.” He encourages, hand never leaving Simon’s hip, the other still gently cradling your throat. He talks Simon through it the entire time, his own cock hard against the curve of your ass, his thumb occasionally smearing across your lower lip. “Fuck, Si.” He marvels, “Doin’ so good for her. Givin’ her what she wants.” He releases Simon’s hip and strokes a finger down your lower belly and across your thighs before teasing your clit, and your breath stutters through your nose when he presses against the swollen bud, your body tensing against his. He noses along your jaw while he works your clit in a circle, matching his rhythm to Simon’s pace. You make a strangled sound in your throat when Simon slows, and Johnny smirks, mirroring the speed until you’re whimpering, throat stuffed full and your thighs trying to rub together around his hand. He’s not going to let you come, not yet, so he pulls away and you whine, eyes widening in protest, but you stay steady, jaw lax to accommodate Simon, and Johnny praises you. “Good girl. Takin’ him so well.” Simon grunts, and then his mouth drops open as his hips begin to thrust unevenly until he’s coming, a little moan slipping from you when he spills down your throat. 

He bends to kiss you afterwards, swiping his tongue into your mouth, lavishing you slowly until you’re pulling at his belt loops again. 

“Want to get in?” 

“You know I won’t fit, darling.” He perches on the side of the tub, leaning down to brush his lips against Johnny’s, fingers dipping into the heat of the water. 

“Well?” Johnny prompts, and Simon grimaces, watching you as he speaks. 

“Tomorrow. Sixteen hundred.” He feels your muscles go tense, your languid state draining from your body, tension running through you in its place. He squeezes your arm affectionately, pressing a kiss above your ear. 

“It’s alright, love. Won’t be too long.” 

“It’s the apartment.” You say quietly from where you’re now laying on the bed, wrapped in a robe with your hair twisted into a towel. You eye the pieces of toast that are on the tray with a sigh. He holds one out to you, like an offering, and your lower lip trembles. “My stomach hurts.” you protest.

“I know it does, love. But you’ll feel better after this, I swear it.” Your hand reaches for his, and his heart soars, but he tempers his relief quickly. “Please? For me.”

“What about the apartment?” Simon interrupts and a shadow moves across your face.

“It was yours, before. It feels like I don’t belong there, sometimes.” Like you don’t belong? The contrast startles him, forcing his spine straighter and he considers your words. How could you possibly believe you don’t belong? 

“Then we’ll get a new one.” He blurts, without even fully thinking it through. He only knows he’s desperate to reassure you, desperate to show you that they’d do anything for you. Your face shifts, from forlorn to hopeful, surprise crinkling the corners of your eyes as you glance between them.

“We’ll get a new one.” Simon agrees, and Johnny presses your knuckles to his lips. “You do belong, darling. You belong with us.”

[shiorimakibawrites]

Mo Ghrá (Kin Fan Fic)

Words: ~1500 Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader Summary: You're on your period and you miss Mikey. Warning: Period symptoms, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff, pumpkin obsession Masterlist / A03 Tags: @bellaxgiornata, @shouldbestudying41, @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @lulukings92

This little story interrupted the writing of "Bound". Guess Mikey wanted a little attention.

Thanks to @shouldbestudying41 for the title suggestion.

Mo Ghrá

You were on the couch, trying to find a position that was comfortable. It was a struggle. Your abdomen was in favor of the fetal position. Your lower back disagreed. Vehemently. Right now you were seeing if on your side, pillows supporting your back and heating pad pressed against your belly, would work.

You hoped so. You were so tired. You had gotten, maybe, two hours of sleep last night. If you added it all up. Yesterday hadn’t been much better. You had called off work, knowing there was no way you were hauling your ass into the office. Not today.

After failing for umpteenth time to find a comfortable position on your bed, you had given up on it. The couch wasn’t much of an improvement. Best thing you could say is that it wasn’t covered in sheets that smelled like stale sweat. You needed to change your bedding but that sounded like far too much work today . . . maybe, if you got lucky, you’d find the energy to fix that before attempting to sleep tonight.

You wished Michael was here. You wanted to bury your face in his chest hair while he rubbed your back with those large, warm hands. You wanted his voice softly murmuring into your hair. But you stayed at your place last night and yesterday night. Like an idiot. You didn’t know what Past You had been thinking. Probably some nonsense about needing to spend some time at your own place since you were still paying rent . . .

But you were also glad that Michael wasn’t here. Because you felt gross. You had scrapped up just enough energy for a shower this morning. But it was the second day of your period. When you had the worst cramps and the heaviest bleeding. So it didn’t take long for the refreshed, clean feeling to disappear.

You whimpered when another cramp ripped through your abdomen. The painkillers were wearing off. Granted, the ibuprofen was barely dulling your cramp pain. And it did absolutely nothing for your headache . . . But it was all you had. In a minute, you would get up and take more. Refill your water bottle while you were up. In a minute . . .

The knock on the door startled you. You weren’t expecting any company. Michael had mentioned something about running errands when you had called him to cancel your lunch date. Another disappointment, you had been looking forward to that date . . . you weren’t going anywhere special. Just the little cafe that you two had discovered that had really good coffee. Really good everything actually. Anna liked it too . . .

Another knock alerted you to that you had gone woolgathering instead of getting up and answering the door. It was tempting to pretend not to be home. But curiosity won out. Reminding yourself that you needed more medicine and water anyway, you wiggled out of your blanket cocoon and stood up.

Your abdomen protested the loss of the heating pad with an enormous cramp. The kind that made you double-up and brought tears to your eyes. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. You slowly straightened back up, then shuffled just as slowly toward the door. You reached it just as a third knock came. Whoever this person was, they were persistent.

You unlocked and opened the door to discover Michael standing here, a soft smile on his handsome, bearded face. “There ya are, pet. I was startin’ to think I had missed ya.”

“Mikey!” you said, torn between delight and embarrassment. You were happy to see him, of course, but you were also a mess. Crazy hair still wet from the shower, wearing old sweats, oversized tee shirt, and one of his hoodies. The one that you had shamelessly stolen from his house the last time you were over there.

Your unattractive messiness felt especially stark today. Michael’s hair and beard was neatly combed. He was wearing jeans, the ones that displayed just how fine that very fine ass of his was. And that sage green sweater that you had bought him, that really brought out those little flecks of green in his eyes, peeked out from under his jacket.

“I thought you were busy today?” You said.

“Just a few things,” he said. “Can I come in, pet? The coffee's gettin’ cold.”

“Coffee?” you repeated, suddenly realizing that one of his hands was occupied. In it was a drink carrier with two coffees in it. Coffees with the name of the little shop written across the cups. You also noticed a small white bag with the same logo dangling from that wrist. A bag that smelled like fresh-baked pumpkin bread.

Your mouth watered. You hadn’t eaten much today. Just lacked the energy and had been vaguely nauseous. You had nibbled on a cereal bar with some tea hoping that it would stay down. It did. But the nausea remained and nothing sounded appealing . . . not until your nose caught a whiff of that pumpkin.

“Pumpkin bread?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling. “And yer pumpkin spice latte.”

“Really?!”

“I know ya love yer pumpkin,” he said.

He was right. You loved pumpkin. Pumpkin bread. Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin cookies. Pumpkin spice coffee. One of your favorite things about autumn was all the pumpkin things you could find. Michael had teased you about it, said it was very American. You had retorted that his snobbiness about whiskey was very Irish of him.

Remembering that he was still standing on your doorstep and it was a rather brisk autumn day, you moved to the side and ushered him inside. You watched him move through your living room. Particularly when he bent down to put the coffees down on the little table. As predicted, his ass looked incredible in those jeans . . . you felt a spark of irritation at the universe. If only you weren’t on your period right now . .

As if to remind you of that little fact, you got another cramp. It wasn’t quite as bad as the last one but it still had you pressing your hands against your abdomen in a vain attempt to stop the pain. A pointed reminder that you needed to take that ibuprofen and put the heating pad back on. While Michael sliced off a few pieces from the loaf of pumpkin bread, you slipped off to the bathroom to take those painkillers.

“How are ya feelin’ pet?” Michael asked as you settled back on the couch.

“I’m grand,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

While his lips did give an amused twitch at your borrowing of his phrasing, his eyes flickered over to the heating pad and the blanket piled on the couch. “Ya were wincin’”

Of course he had noticed. Michael was nothing if not attentive.

You fidgeted. He had never exhibited any disgust for periods. Never made any crude jokes, reacted with calm practicality every time it had come up. Anna had been more embarrassed by her dad buying her tampons than he had been going to shop to buy them. But your period wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about. You really didn’t want to talk about it with Michael.

For some reason, he seemed to think you were beautiful. And you didn’t want anything to destroy that particular delusion of his.

On the other hand, you didn’t want to lie either. You and Mikey were trying to build something solid here. Something that would last. Honest communication was key to that goal. And . . . well, your periods weren’t going to stop anytime soon.

“It’s just my period,” you muttered, staring at your feet. Your socks didn’t match. One was a bright pink. The other was black. You hadn’t even noticed before now. Tears filled your eyes. Couldn’t even dress yourself properly. You really were a disaster.

“Pet?”

His voice was closer than you expected. It startled you into looking up. Seeing your tears, the concerned frown deepened. “Can I sit with ya?”

You nodded. He sat down next to you, then turned so he was mostly facing you. He held his arms open in clear invitation. One you couldn’t resist. You slide into his arms, borrowing your face into his chest. The sweater might not have been the chest hair you had been craving earlier but you still had his strong arms around you. You had his cologne that smelled like a blend of whiskey, coffee, vanilla along with notes that you couldn’t describe as other than Mikey in your nose. Which was pretty damn good.

It got even better when one of those wonderfully warm hands began massaging your lower back while the other helped maneuver the rest of you into a more comfortable snuggling position. Michael was so warm. He was just as good as your heating pad. Better. Because your heating pad couldn’t murmur sweet nothings into your ear.

One of these days you were going to have to ask him what mo ghrá meant. Everyone had refused to tell you. Just smiled and told you to ask Michael.

You did eventually manage to drink your coffee and eat your slice of pumpkin bread, followed by more snuggles with Mikey. You felt your eyes getting heavy as the combination of comfort and warmth lulled you into sleep. The last thing you felt before you drifted off was lips pressing against your forehead with another soft mo ghrá.

END NOTES

mo ghrá is Irish for "my love".

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VI

Why hello there! I am finally back with an Eepy Boi update!! Sorry it took me so long to get around to posting this, between the holidays and my work schedule being all over the place and a heap of other junk it took me a bit, lol. We're taking a little jump back? Forward? In time this chapter, the Fall Festival is finally upon us... Maybe a little bit of tension starts to occur? This is going to be a very fun chapter hehe. Thank all of you so so much for your continued support during my hiatus, I see every single note, reblog, and kudos on this fic, I read every single comment I get, all of you are absolutely wonderful, again, thank you. If you would like to be added to my tag list for this fic, please let me know! If you ever want to come be crazy over the Sleep Token boys with me, shoot me an ask or a message! Now onto the good stuff, I hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS: None, fluff, not proofread

My Masterlist! ~ A03 Link!

Part V - Part VII

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“Absolutely not.” Vessel responds blankly as he flips through one of the magazines by the register.

“Ves, come on.” You groan. “It's one night.”

“Yeah, one night with a whole group of people that want to run us out of town.” He retaliates in the same bored tone as he turns another page.

“Everyone's going to be wearing costumes, no one will know it's you.” You offer as you start bagging his purchase.

“They've seen pictures of us, love.”

“What? Those blurry, grainy sasquatch looking photos from the paper?” You sigh, handing him the bags. “Listen, I know you're worried. I know you just want to keep everyone safe, but you hiding yourselves away is only going to make people more suspicious.” You could feel his eyes studying your face.

“I get the slightest feeling that something is wrong we leave, do we have a deal?” He sticks out his hand to you, you clap your own into his without hesitation, giving it a firm shake. “I agree that people might be more comfortable with us being in town if we can exist in the same space without an issue… I just hope you're right about this.” 

“I'll be right by your side the whole time.” You exchange a soft smile.

“Are you closing early that day?” He asks.

“Of course, I have to get into costume myself.” You giggle. “I'll be closing at noon that day, but I can always reopen if you guys want to stock up afterwards.” You offer.

“It’s not that, I wouldn't want to trouble you.” He chuckles. “I was thinking maybe we could meet here before the festival.” 

“I'd like that.” 

“Then it's a date.” He bows his head slightly in dismissal before pushing out the door.

The next day the store was abuzz with excited children picking out glow sticks, mother's buying ingredients for their bake sale items, and last minute costume necessities for all the town's residents. “Miss (Y/N)!” You can't help but smile as a young boy with messy brown hair and a gapped tooth smile rushes up to the counter.

“Daclan, she's busy-” his mother starts, a bubbly school teacher you had gotten to know quite well since she had moved to town.

“Don't worry about it, Siobhan.” You chuckle, pulling the bucket of candy out from behind the counter and discreetly offering it to him. You lean down slightly, “if you don't tell the other kids I'll let you take two.” You whisper with a wink. He shoves his hand into the bucket before quickly and triumphantly retrieving his candy.

“Miss (Y/N), are you coming to the Fall festival?” He asks excitedly.

“Of course I am, I wouldn't miss it for the world.” You smile. “What's your costume going to be this year?” He starts rambling on about his skeleton costume as you ring the two of them up.

“Woah! Mom, look at him!” Your attention flashes over to the door to see Vessel frozen in place as every pair of eyes in the store land on him. As quickly as he caught their attention it was gone, the bustling energy returning once more as everyone continued their shopping. You motion him closer with a wave of your hand. Declan stared up at the large masked man in amazement. “What are you supposed to be?”

Vessel gives you the briefest of looks, not exactly sure how to respond at first. But, seeing the boy's bright smile and lack of fear, it warmed his heart. He leans down, resting his elbows on the counter to bring himself closer to eye level. “The Grim Reaper, pretty scary, right?” He says with a grin.

“Awesome!” Declan exclaims in response. “Mom, can we make a costume like his next year?” Vessel chuckles at the young boy’s excitement.

“Sure thing, honey.” She ruffles Declan’s hair. “Come on, let’s let Miss (Y/N) close up so she can get ready.” You exchange goodbye’s with her, Declan telling you that he hopes you get to see his costume before hurrying out the door.

“So far so good.” You remark as you lean against the counter, you and Vessel shifting to more easily face each other. “I promise tonight will be fun.” You reach out, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, if you talk so highly about this festival, I can't see any harm in giving it a shot.” You wait for your last few customers to file out of the store before locking up.

“Where's everyone else?” You ask, looking out in the empty lot for their truck.

“They're in back, I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.” You click off your open sign with a smile, motioning with a nod for Vessel to follow you out the front door. Your keys jingled in your hand as you struggled with the lock. “You'd think after all this time I wouldn't mess this up.” You sigh. The front door had a tendency to not shut fully unless things were maneuvered a certain way; the keys had to be slid into the lock a certain way, you had to push the door fully shut with your shoulder, you felt your cheeks start to burn as you struggled with something so simple in Vessel’s presence.

“Mind if I give it a try?” He offers quietly. You shuffle out of his way, the heat of his body noticeable against yours as he slid a little too close behind you. He jiggles the key slightly, slamming his shoulder into the glass pane’s metal frame, managing to slide the deadbolt into place. He pulls on the handle a couple times, making sure it's fully secure, before turning to you with a proud smile. “There, that should do it. He follows you out back, the other three members of the usual group lounging in the cab of the truck. IV was the first to notice you, perking up in his seat when his eyes landed on your approaching form. He nudges II, who looks up immediately from the book he was reading at the mention of your name.

“Where's your costume?” III asks in mock annoyance. He hops down from his place situated in the bed of the truck, his long strides allowing him to approach you quickly and pull you into his arms. He pulls back slightly, his blue eyes finding yours and making you freeze under their warm gaze. “Promise me I'll get you to myself for at least a little while tonight.” You could hear the smile he was wearing under his mask lace it's way through his words. Before you had a chance to respond the passenger door of the truck was kicked open, IV practically falling to the ground as he scrambled out. Your eyes darted up to three, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he gazed down at you. He gives you a quick wink before he steps back, satisfied with your flustered state. 

IV bounds up to you, excitedly taking your hands in his. “I can't wait to see your costume.” You jump slightly as a warm hand if placed against your lower back, you caught the sight of II in your peripheral.

“Well we have to let her go get changed into it first.” He chuckles. “It's good to see you, love.”

“Come on guys.” You chuckle, motioning for the four of them to follow you. “You can hang out upstairs while I get ready.”

It always made your heart swell every time they were all together in one place. The warm, me jovial energy that filled your apartment had you practically skipping to your room to get changed. You could hear the four of them continue to talk in the living room, just quiet enough to make it so you couldn't hear. You opened your closet, pulling out the neatly packaged bag that contained your costume. You shimmied into the tight dress, the stretchy fabric hugging all of your curves just right. Was this the most original costume in the world? Absolutely not. But, considering you were hoping to catch the attention of some masked men in particular this evening, you figured it wouldn't hurt to be a little cliche. You did your makeup as quickly as you could, a dark smokey eye that was finished off by you drawing a little black nose at the tip of your own with eyeliner. You grabbed the headband from your vanity, adjusting it perfectly atop your head before giving yourself one final once over in the mirror and heading back out to your waiting guests. The room fell silent the second you stepped through your door, four pairs of eyes locked on your small form. All of the sudden attention made you feel self conscious about your costume choice, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. You wrapped your arms around your torso, your cheeks warming as you looked between the four. “Does it look ba-”

You didn't have a chance to finish your question before they were all scrambling out of their various seats towards you. All of them reassuring you that you looked fantastic and apologizing for staring. Your small group prepared to head out, III hung back to wait for you, his monstrous form taking up most of the doorway. You smile up at him as you straighten up from pulling on your shoes. “You look beautiful.” He compliments you softly, making your cheeks warm.

“Thank you.” He slips his hands into yours, his lips warm through his mask as he places a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“Ready to get going?” You nod, letting your hand reluctantly fall from his.

You piled into their truck, you were currently squished in between Vessel and II, III and IV curled up in the bed. “So, you're all excited about this festival, what are we even going to be doing?” Vessel asks suddenly, breaking the silence in the truck.

“Well,” you start, “there's going to be a lot of food, hay rides, a costume contest, lots of vendors from around the town, a few rides, a haunted house. It's nothing spectacular, but I’m hoping it will make you guys feel more at home here.” You noticed him and II exchange a look over your head. It wasn't long before you pulled into the bumpy dirt parking lot of the fair grounds. III vaulted out of the truck, his heavy boots landing on the ground with a loud thud. You notice II shove him back slightly as he holds out his hand to help you out of the truck. He gives your hand a soft squeeze before dropping it, you were quickly surrounded by the four men, all of you chatting happily as you made your way up to the festival. The four froze, taking in the chaotic sight before then. IV reached out, slipping his hand into yours.

“There's a lot of people, huh?” He asks, startling back slightly as a child rushes past his legs.

“The whole town’s probably going to show up.” You explain. You lean on closer to him, “you alright big guy? We can always turn around and go back to my place if this is too much.” You squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“I think I can handle it if you're by my side.” You noticed his features soften as he smiles under his mask. Your cheeks warm, your eyes darting to the ground in an attempt to try and hide your flustered expression.

“Where should we start?” III slips an arm around your shoulder, you instinctually lean into his side.

“You're the expert, love, lead the way.” Vessel shoots you a sharp grin. The group stayed close to your side, forming a buffer between you and the rest of the crowd. You wandered from booth to booth, letting the boy's childlike wonder take over as they excitedly showed you small trinkets and hand made gifts they stumbled across. The booth of old ladies selling goat milk soap cooed over how adorable all your costumes were, slipping sweets into all your hands as you made your way out. You paused in front of a vendor selling handmade jewelry, you jumped slightly as a hand came to rest on your waist.

“That would look very pretty on you.” II’s gentle voice meets your ears.

“You think so?” You ask through a flustered giggle. II asked to see the necklace in question, the beautifully wire wrapped crystal sparkling in the gradually setting sun. “It is really pretty.”

“How much?” He asks without hesitation. The young woman running the stand told him the price, to which II shocked you by immediately purchasing the necklace. He steps behind you, your hand raising to the unfamiliar weight as it falls around your neck. “A beautiful necklace for the most beautiful woman in the world.” His warm breath bounces off your cheek as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance over your shoulder, your eyes immediately finding his bright blue ones.

“You know you didn't have to buy me anything.” You see the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles.

“What if I wanted to?” You didn't miss the teasing tone that had laced its way into his words. You traced a finger along the cool metal wire, fully turning yourself to face him. You glance up at him through your lashes, struggling to find the right words to say to thank him. You pushed yourself up onto your toes, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Well, I think that’s very sweet. Thank you, II.” You perk up at the sound of one of the others calling your name, III appearing at your side and slipping his hand into yours.

“Mind if I steal her from you?” He quickly asks II.

“Not at all.” He holds up his hands with a soft chuckle. “I'm sure I'll manage to snag her back later.” He winks at you, making your cheeks grow warm.

“What a shame,” III leans down to murmur quietly in your ear, “looks like I'm going to have to beat them off with a stick to get you to myself.”

“Careful, you're all going to make me think you have a crush on me or something.” You tease in response, shooting him a playful smile of your own.

“Only a pretty little thing like you could handle something like that.” He winks. “I want to make sure you eat before IV gets over excited and drags you off to the rides.” He jokes with a smile. He tucks you safely into his side, helping you avoid the bustling crowd that surrounded you.

“Are you having a good time?” You ask him softly. He glances down at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“Yeah, I’m spending time with you, of course I’m having a good time.” You let out a bashful giggle, quickly turning away as you feel your cheeks grow warm. 

As the evening carried on you couldn't help but notice II grow more fidgety with every passing hour, occasionally leaning into Vessel to whisper something only for the taller man to clap him on the shoulder and give him a reassuring grin. You were currently sat in a circle on the ground, finding a nice place in the open field to settle down and have some good together. You laughed as IV expertly stole a bite of your corn dog faster than you could comprehend what had happened. “What's your favorite ride?” II suddenly chimes in from his position sitting across from you.

“I'm personally a big fan of the haunted house, I think all the cheap jump scares are fun.” You respond with a laugh.

IV makes an intrigued noise. “We should all go on!”

“Only two people can ride together, unfortunately.”

“Well, how about you ride with me then?” II winks at you, making you blush.

“If you think you can handle it.” You tease in response. II stands, offering you his hand which you eagerly accept. He hoists you from the ground, pulling you into his side and slinging his arm across your shoulders. Vessel tagged along with IV, knowing it would be the only way to stop him from complaining about how he wanted to go too, III elected to stay back to save your spot. You all chatted happily as you stood in line, the slow creeping pace allowing them to see a little of what the ride had in store for them.

Brown metal buggies horribly painted to look like wood creaked along the track, bat shaped hood ornaments were barely recognizable after years of dings and chipped paint.A repeating track of over dramatic screams and ghoulish moaning looped from the speakers. “Next in line, please!” The ticket collector barked, IV and Vessel stepped up first, IV practically vibrating with excitement as he waited for the all clear to get on. II’s arm slid around your waist as you stepped forward, waiting patiently for the next cart to wheel itself into place. “Y’all have fun.” He waves you on. II helps you step into the cart, your body thudding against the thin, leather covered padding on the seat.

“You’re not going to get all scared on me now, are you?” You ask in a playful tone.

“Oh, don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll be right here to protect you.” He returns with a smirk. Your body lurched slightly as the buggy started to move. You were hit with a blast of cold air as you crept into the dark space, II’s arm wrapping around your shoulders, you found yourself instinctually snuggling into his side. You jumped slightly, giggling over being startled by the second air cannon you had rolled past.

You rolled past a growling werewolf, “Look, you can see the wires.” You nudge him slightly, pointing upwards.

“I personally think it adds to the experience.” He chuckles, you can’t help but laugh yourself. “You’re so beautiful.” You feel your breath freeze in your lungs at his compliment. You clung to him as something shot out of the darkness at you, it took you a moment to recognize the plastic skeleton’s limbs rattling at you. Your eyes are drawn back to him as you feel a warm hand slip over your cheek. “And you thought I was going to be the one getting scared.” He chuckles, his eyes flashing briefly to your lips. “Cute.” He fidgets with the edge of his mask for a moment, stretching the black fabric away from his neck. “Can- can I, um…” He swallows thickly, his confidence immediately crumbling as you continue to cling to him for comfort. “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, your wide eyes glimmering in the dim light. Without hesitation II lifts his mask, his lips slotting perfectly against your own. Your hand slides over his chest, you could feel his heart pounding under your palm. As quickly as the kiss had started it was over, II’s mask already neatly back in place by the time your eyes fluttered open. You hide your face against his neck, hoping he hadn’t noticed your flustered appearance. “That was nice.” He suddenly chimes in, making you giggle. You both reluctantly shuffle away from each other as the exit opens in front of you, squinting under the bright lights. II offers you his hand to help you from the cart, your eyes meeting his as he smiles. Your pinky wraps around his as he lets his hand slip out of your grasp. You hear him laugh softly at your actions, allowing your fingers to stay linked.

“That wasn’t even scary.” IV groans as you approach.

“I never said it was scary, I just said I liked it.” You respond. Vessel smiles down at you.

“How was riding with II?” He asks with a chuckle. Your cheeks immediately warm at the question.

“We had fun.” You get out through a nervous giggle. 

“Well, look who’s back.” You can’t help but smile at III’s cheerful tone. He hoists himself up from his position on the ground with a soft groan. “How was it beautiful?” Your eyes trailed after the people that were starting to gather in the open field.

“It was fun.” You felt a pang of guilt in your chest as you thought about kissing II. “See anything interesting while we were gone?”

“There’s a pretty good band playing over there.” He nods somewhere behind you. “Want to go check it out?”

“Sure.” You can’t help but smile as you feel the warmth of III’s hand brush against yours. The two of you lazily strolled in the direction of the music that floated through the air. A local folk group was currently performing under a gazebo, a small dance floor set up in front of the stage. You laughed as III took your hand and spun you around in time with the music, pulling you to him and swaying you in his arms.

“Do you know how to dance?” He asks with a grin.

“Not very well,” you giggle in response, “but I feel like with you that won’t matter too much.” You found yourself easily falling into a rhythm with him, every small misstep and teasing comment from him made you both crumble into fits of laughter. You both paused, looking up at the sky with the rest of the crowd as fireworks started going off overhead. III continues to hold you close, your arms sliding over his shoulders as the two of you watch the display. He fully encircles your waist with one arm, his hand sliding over your cheek, turning your face in order for his warm lips to find yours. Unlike the kiss with II, III took his time letting the sensation of kissing you sink in. You felt so small in his arms, the gentle dominance he had over the kiss allowing your body to fully relax into his embrace as your eyes fluttered shut. He traces a thumb along your jaw before hesitantly pulling away.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He rushes to apologize, his body relaxing at the sight of the soft smile that had laced its way across your lips. Your eyes meet his, bright blue irises scanned your features with an adoration you had never seen. “I really like you.”

“III-”

“There you guys are!” He jolts back from you, the sudden lack of warmth making you shiver. “We’ve been looking all over the place for you!” It was IV, he jogged up to you. “Vessel wants to get going.”

You found yourself in the cab of the truck between Vessel and IV, II and III electing to sit in the bed for the ride back to your place. Your mind raced as you played over both men kissing you over and over again in your head. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand there was II, his silent charm and the undeniable intimacy the two of you have has drawn you in from the beginning. But then there was III, who made your heart race and dominated every aspect of your senses whenever you were with him. Who, despite his monstrous size, was always so gentle with you. You were absolutely torn. You rumbled into the store’s parking lot, Vessel parking the truck around back. You stood at the bottom of your stairs in a small circle. “Well, I hate to admit it, but that was pretty fun.” Vessel grins at you, there were murmurs of agreement amongst the group.

“Do you guys want to come up for a bit? There’s, um, there’s kind of something I need to talk to you about.” You fidget with your hands as you nervously put the statement out there. You were going to deal with feeling conflicted the only way you knew how, by facing the problem head on.

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @herripinkle @thepoisonedchalice @saturnhas82moons @wingsofeternitysstuff @creamwhxre @itsyagirl-snowflake @themultiverseofmars @bookishpenguino @m0cha-bunny @madsthenightowl @dangerkittenclaws @rainy-darling @shad0wcast @amara-among-the-stars @v3nu5s @dontpercieve-me-pls @ripleyswife @thepityscene @lipstick-and-lycanthropes @vmpireskiss @savaneafricaine @sanekiii @ajordan2020 @diditgirl13 @sodomizerrrrr @mishaglass @thisbicc @chewbrry @backwards-readings @popppylove @lovelyan @asianchic-44 @littlemiss-sakura @sleepy-time-dreamy @xdarkcreaturex @deltottoro @chewbrry @thisbicc @miss-multi45 (If I missed you or you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!)

[alphabetboyluvr]

BAD DECISIONS - SMUT INDEX

BD MASTERLIST  | WATTPAD Ver.  | A03 Ver.

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

note from holly: ask and you shall receive!! i was asked about a list of all the smut chapters in bd, so figured it'd be easier for me to make a masterlist - this took hours because I had to go through the entire story (which is like 450k words LMAO), but if you notice any missing, let me know!! all chapters linked will take you to the wattpad ver.

minors dni

Bad Decision #2 – Park Jimin

tags/warnings: jimin lol, drunk hook-up, slight dom jimin, bratty oc, spanking, fingering, protected sex, fully clothed, no orgasm for oc

Bad Decision #11 - Perry

tags/warnings: first shower, no smut but a lil nakedness

Bad Decision #12 – An Agreement

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation birdie, jk gets himself off in the bathroom sink <3 oc gets herself off in his bed <3

Bad Decision #13 – Work of Art

tags/warnings: Jungkook discovers boobs <3, breast play, nipple play, mirrors, paint (?), shower, mutual masturbation (for realsies this time), he finishes on her tummy <3

Bad Decision # 14 – New Rules

tags/warnings: mirrors, pussy worship, jk has the biggest boner known to man, fingering, one, two, three fingers! Orgasm for oc!!

Bad Decision #15 – Paper Planes

tags/warnings: cockwarming (that escalated!), hand job, fingering, protected penetration (safety first!!), oc on top, mirrors (they love them!), nose nudging!!!, clitoral stimulation, ‘good girl’, both finish &lt;3

Bad Decision #17 – Jeon Jungkook

tags/warnings: cockwarming 2.0, oc is bad a maths!, touching each other up above their clothes <3, mirrors lol ofc, nipple play, spanking, tittie sucking <3, fingering, neck kisses, unprotected (!!) penetration, cockwarming that accidentally becomes fucking! Oops! Jk on top, multiple positions, finishes on her back

Bad Decision #20 – Park Jimin… Again

tags/warnings: oops (kinda wild seeing the progression from 17 to 20 like this lmao), drunk hookup, blowjob, no oc orgasm <;/3

Bad Decision #23 – Cherry Picking

tags/warnings: most read chapter! Fun facts! tipsy hook up, oral (f receiving), pantie sniffing?? lmao, panties in oc’s mouth??? Lol, tittie sucking, spitting, jks nose <3, fingering, oc orgasm!! FIRST KISS!!!! Unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting, he finishes on her tits <3 and licks it up <3

Bad Decision #24 – Resolutions

tags/warnings: hangover sex, shower sex, slight degradation, use of the word slut in a sexy way, praise, temporarily withheld orgasm (f), switch dynamics, unprotected sex, orgasms (f, m), he finishes in her mouth &lt;3

Bad Decision #25 - January

tags/warnings: fingering, f orgasm, mentions of the erotic accordion lmao

Bad Decision #26 – January, Still

tags/warnings: the tie chapter <3 what he does with the aforementioned tie I shall not get into but it’s pretty self-explanatory, oral (f), fingering, lil spanks, rimming (f receiving), spitting, unprotected sex, doggy, finishes on her back!!

Bad Decision #27 – Keeping Quiet

tags/warnings: this ones a lil angsty!! ‘if you’re here to fuck me, then fuck me. If not, you can go.’, they’re fighting but theyre needy! And tipsy! Bad idea!!!! Unprotected sex, kisses ☹ many kisses ☹ she wants him to finish inside ☹ he doesn’t ☹ mmmm rereading this one made me so sad lol! Sad smut!

Dad Decision #28 – Avoidance

tags/warnings: a lil? Lap sitting?? Dry hump??? Not really smut lol

Bad Decision #29 – ‘Daddy’

tags/warnings: the first of the polaroids, slut (affectionately <3) not smut as such, they’re just sorta working each other up

Bad Decision #31 – The Photo Booth

tags/warnings: all the build up for a blowwie without there being an actual blowwie lol (payback for the daddy thing), cute little lick of dick <3 lil precum swap <3 jk outrageously horny for the rest of the day, the photobooth pictures!!!!

Bad Decision #32 – Question…?

tags/warnings: jk’s parents kitchen, freckle kissing chapter!!!! <3 <3!! He finally gets that blowjob!! Fingering, he calls her baby sooooo much ☹ interrupted!!!!!! Nearly caught! Spend the day horny AGAIN, the conversation in a chicken shop is not the kind of conversation you should have in a chicken shop, jk quite literally wants to drown in you <3 TO THE LOVE MOTEL WE GO! Very needy, very desperate, very good <3 unprotected sex! Missionary! Tittie sucking! Ankles over shoulders! He’s going to town! CREAMPIE ! WE CHEER! Brief mentions of fucking again and him finishing inside her AGAIN

Bad Decision #33 – Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

tags/warnings: kisses ☹ so many ☹ ‘last time’ energy ☹ ‘chess’ ☹ against their better judgement, and despite their earlier restraint…. Oops! Shagging! Tittie sucking, dry humping (so not dry), 69, ass eating (f receiving), edging, fingering, clit spanks, squirting, unprotected (v quick!) sex, creampie, happy customers all around (until the next bird falls!)

Bad Decision #37 – Faking It

tags/warnings: angsty!! They are annoyed!!! Dominant jk!!! Arguing in a janitors closet at an art gallery!! Over her ex!!! He’s sooooo mm mm mmmm 😊 lots of ‘good girl’, thigh riding, multiple orgasms, tittie sucking, he wanks himself into her underwear!! While she’s wearing them <3 ‘gonna cum in ur panties, and then ur gonna wear them all night’ <33 they have a show to return to after all!!! He’s being like… so possessive but in a sexy way!

Bad Decision #40 – Spinning Bottles

tags/warnings: sex toys!! M & F !!! solo masturbation for oc, jk hears lol (floorboards are thin!), mutual masturbation, but like way hotter than normal, he’s soooo needy!! Beggy!!! Kisses!!!! Fleshlight creampie lmao, oc cleans it up for him 😊 with her tongue!! Cum swapping <3 so kissy, so lovely <3

Bad Decision #41 – Locked Doors

tags/warnings: shower sex, he like… fucks the little gap at the top of her thighs? Lol, kissy kissy mwah mwah, jk is like… totally in love! Mmmm he compliments!! Pretty standard shagging mechanics, emotion heavy, he finishes inside <;33

Bad Decision #43 – Circles

tags/warnings: dominant oc!! The neediest, whimper-iest handjob known to man!! She calls him a little slut <3 edging!! Oral (f), fingering, his hand is a necklace! Dominant jk! Oc rides!!! Seven had just been released! Sue me!!! Hair pulling, are they fucking or fighting idk, power struggle but sexy, kisses <3 cum! Everywhere!!! Titties and mouth <3 many seven references

Bad Decision #44 – Skinny Dipping

tags/warnings: pretty standard shag tbh, there are people in the rooms closeby but jk simply doesn’t give a shit, creampie, fingers in creampies lmao, eating creampie, too!!, finger sucking, multiple orgasms

Bad Decision #45 – The Rule of Five

tags/warnings: sofa shagging in lieu of speak about feelings! Kissing but v important kissing!! A little bit of cockwarming, unprotected sex, bed sex, creampie, all the good stuff you usually get with bd <33 squirting, jk is so lovely <3

Bad Decision #47 – Time Out

tags/warnings: a lil dry hump &lt;3

Bad Decision #48 – Bickering

tags/warnings: mutual masturbation <3 sex toys (f), he fucks her with it <3 then licks it clean <3 kinda deepthroats it actually lmao, cums on her tummy <3 more polaroids <3

last updated: 20230914

[missrosegold]

I've got a blood trail red in the blue

Synopsis: Vampire!AU You moved to the quiet, costal town to escape from your ex, only to find yourself entangled with a man with fiery blue eyes, and a grin that’s slightly too sharp.

He may or may not be an immortal gang leader to a bunch of other blood-sucking degenerates, but you’ll worry about that later.

Word count: 20k

Pairing: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of murder, Blood and gore, Smut, Mentioned past toxic relationships, Smoking, Smut and additional warnings listed below so Minors or Ageless blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Take Me To The Sun - D4VD + The Summoning (the ending. if you know, you know) - Sleep Token

For @kimkaelyn Thank you for all of the encouragement you’ve shown me when I needed it most – this one’s for you. Also, thank you for making this beautiful banner for me!! It looks so good!!

Title is from The Summoning by Sleep Token

Inspired by The Lost boys

Happy Birthday Dabi - I'm so pleased I was able to finish this for his birthday. He deserves all good things.

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works to my A03 account!

Tagging: @vambirezz @dabisqueen @little-red-insomniac @sunaraii @touyasprettydoll @touyas-back-lover @cloudsz04 @faetheral @impulsivethoughtsat2am @whitemochabunnie

You sigh loudly as you move the last box of your things into your new bedroom.

Dusting off your hands, you stand up and look around the small room, giving it an approving once over, before heading out into the living room to continue putting the rest of your things away in your new apartment.

Opting to take a quick break, you crack open the sliding glass doors leading out onto your small patio and step outside into the evening air. Closing your eyes, you breathe in the balmy, salt laced air, as a cool breeze combs through your hair, sending pleasant chills down your spine. You stay like that for a moment, before the sound of seagulls cawing overhead draws your attention to the surrounding view.

The sight of the small costal town spread out before your balcony greets you, as you look outward. You’d just moved to the town of Ashikita a few days ago, leaving your life in the busy city of Tokyo behind you. You scowl even thinking about the place.

You’d loved your life in Tokyo. It was the person you shared your life with there you’d hated.

You purse your lips as your thoughts trail back to your ex-boyfriend, despite your best efforts. He was the sole reason you’d moved all the way out to this small town in the first place. Your relationship had been on a downwards spiral for a while, and had gradually become unhealthier the longer you’d stayed with him. He had become progressively more controlling and manipulative whenever you’d tried to leave your shared apartment for anything else aside for work, and his behavior had only become worse by the day.

Eventually, things came to a boiling point when he decided to try and lock you in the bathroom when you’d told him that you were going out to see a friend, and that had been your breaking point. You had packed your things up when he’d left to go to work, and that had been that. You had taken up residence at your parent’s place for a few months while you’d searched for a new apartment and a new job, far away from your ex’s grasp, all the while dodging his incessant calling, before blocking him all together.

You had settled in Ashikita, a small costal town in Kyushu, known for its attractive beaches and coastlines. It was also quiet during the off season, deeming it the perfect place for someone who was trying to escape from the city.

Perfect for someone who didn’t wish to be found.

You allow your gaze to sweep through the sights spread out below your balcony. Your apartment was located near the coastline, and had a nice view of the nearby beach and wooden boardwalk that wrapped around it, much to your inner delight. The twinkling of lights from the few carnival rides you can see on the old wooden platform catches your attention, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you recall old childhood memories of when your parents used to take you to the small country fair that used to come by your hometown in the summer.

You sigh as the multicolored lights gradually become brighter as the sun slowly sinks behind the watery horizon in the distance. Glancing back into your dark apartment, you decided to go down to check out the boardwalk after night falls – not wanting to spend more time in your lonely apartment then necessary.

You slowly slink back inside, and force yourself to continue to unpacking as the outside becomes darker. Once your apartment looks somewhat like your own space, you quickly change into something a little warmer to explore the boardwalk, before making your way out of your apartment.

The boardwalk, as you discover, is only a ten-minute walk away from your building, and you use the time to lightly explore the surrounding area as you make your way towards the beach. The distant crashing of the ocean waves against the shore makes your heart pound excitedly in your chest, and the sounds of the boardwalk rides echoes through the air around you, only adding to your growing excitement.

You make your way onto the old wooden boardwalk and look around at the rides and other various vendors set up on both sides of the platform. You slowly make your way around the brightly lit area with the crowds of other people taking in the sights and sounds like you, before a gentle musical chime accompanied by soft twinkling lights in the coroner of your eye catches your attention.

Turning to your left, you gasp in delight as you find yourself looking at a vintage merry go round. It’s old, older than you by probably several decades, but it’s no less charming than it would’ve been when it was brand new. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on one, and before you can think about what you’re doing, you’re in the short line to buy a ticket.

The teen running the ride looks entirely uninterested as he takes your money before passing you a ticket and waving you on. You slowly make your way around the merry go round, taking in all of the old wooden animals – most of their paint old and dull – before settling on a sleek black horse wearing a blue saddle and bridle.

Not long after choosing your mount, the voice of the teen operating the ride crackles to life over the loud speaker and announces the ride was starting, before the squealing of gears and the hum of hidden electronics signals the start of the ride. You grip the pole as your horse slowly moves up and down, giggling in spite of yourself.

The world spins around you slowly and you lose yourself in the tinny sounds of music blaring out of the ancient speakers scattered around the ride. As you glance out at the boardwalk outside of the merry go round, something catches your attention.

No, not something, someone.

You catch a fleeting glimpse of a tall man dressed in various shades of dark blue and black, standing just outside of the fence blocking off the ride. You have to wait for the ride to do another full circle before you see him again, this time in clearer detail.

He’s standing still as a statue, allowing you to get a better look at him as you come around once again. He’s imposing looking, with his dark attire, save for a white shirt draped loosely around his gangly frame. He’s wearing a long dark blue duster and stitched pants, tucked into black combat boots – a strange choice of clothing considering the warm weather. He’s tall and lean, but you can tell he’s well-built underneath the loose clothes he wears; but his unique choice of clothing isn’t what draws your attention to him.

He is without a doubt, one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen.

His spiky black hair is as dark as night, and his skin is pale and flawless, drawing attention to his high cheekbones but you notice a slight roundness to his cheeks, giving a gentle softness to his otherwise edgy features.

As you pass him once more, you lock eyes with the intriguing stranger and your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes are as blue as the surrounding ocean. You don’t think you’ve ever seen any one with eyes that particular shade of blue before.

As you slowly pass him again, he smirks at you, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest involuntarily.

The crackling sounds from the old loudspeakers snap you out of your trance as the teen from before announces the ride was over, and to leave at the nearest exit point. You slide off your horse and make your way to the exit, speed walking back to where you first saw the dark-haired man, only to find he’d seemingly vanished.

You look around the area, confused as to how he could’ve disappeared so fast, only to hear deep laughter echoing a little further down the boardwalk. You turn in the direction of the laughter, only to see the dark-haired man standing in the middle of a group of four other men.

They’re an interesting looking group if you’ve ever seen one: a silvery, white-haired man with vibrant red eyes is standing next to your handsome stranger, snickering at something he said, drawing your attention to the odd amount of scarring under his eyes and around his mouth. Beside him, a man with what you can only assume is box-dyed pink hair, dressed in a black hoodie is leaning slightly on him, listening intently to what he’s saying. On the other side of the ravenette; a taller, slightly older looking blonde-haired man with a long scar running down his forehead, is smoking a cigarette, and beside him, a well-dressed brunette who looked to be about the same age as his scarred companion, is fixing his tie, smiling and nodding with whatever was being discussed.

You smile to yourself as you take in the group. As much as you would’ve liked to talk to the dark-haired man, you didn’t want to interrupt his time with his friends. You turn around, ready to make your leave, only to feel a sudden weight draped around your shoulders. Startled, you whirl around only to find yourself staring up into the deep blue eyes of handsome stranger from before.

Now that he’s up close and personal, you find yourself unable to look away from the unique blue of his eyes. There’s something about them that has you completely entranced, and suddenly, the rest of your surroundings seem to fade away until it’s just you and him. You’re stuck in his orbit and he’s pulling you in simply by looking at you, pinning you in place where you stand. The stranger suddenly blinks, and just like that; he releases you from whatever hold he had you in, abruptly snapping you back to reality.

You don’t even have time to wonder how the hell he was able to catch up to you so fast, before you feel your throat dry up and close up involuntarily as he shoots you a dark smirk.

“’Sup sweetheart?”

His deep voice startles you. It’s smooth, with a slight rasp to it, sounding like he’d smoked recently. He’s warm as well – it’s almost shocking how hot he is, as you feel the heat from his body leaching into your side through the barrier your clothes provide.

You struggle to come up with a response to his greeting, and you can tell by the way his grin grows slightly, he enjoys the effect he has on you. He squeezes your shoulders again, almost teasingly.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re getting all shy on me now? I saw you checking me out on the merry go round. Thought you wanted to say hello.”

“You saw that?” you ask before you can stop yourself, fighting to keep the flush you feel creeping up your neck under control, as the man throws his head back and laughs, allowing you to catch sight of clean white teeth that seemed slightly sharper than the average person’s.

“Yeah, I saw. Gotta say, I’m flattered. Haven’t seen a cute thing like you around here for a while. You new here?”

“I… Yeah.” You finally manage to sputter out, “I just moved here.” causing him to grin again.

“Yeah? Where are you from?”

“Tokyo. I got a new job down here. It’s a lot different than the city. Nice though.”

The dark-haired man nodded. “I bet. Why did you move here? This isn’t exactly a major city. I’m surprised you’d want to come here of all places.”

You freeze. Memories of your ex come flooding back, and you chew on your lip as you struggle to figure out what to tell the handsome man. You didn’t want to divulge your shitty dating history to a total stranger, when you yourself were trying to move on. Thankfully, the longer you remain silent, the more the grin seemed to slide off his lips, seemingly understanding what you were thinking, without you having to say a word.

“Someone there made you want to leave?”

You nod soundlessly, causing the man to kiss the back of his teeth.

“Well, that’s a shame. Dunno who the jackass is who made you feel the need to come to a remote shithole like this, but fuck ‘em.”

His brunt comment makes you snort in spite of yourself. You turn in his hold so you’re facing him more directly, offering him a half smile. “I don’t even know your name. What is it?”

The man grins salaciously at you as he stoops down to your level. “Dabi. And you, gorgeous?”

You know there’s not a chance in hell that’s his real name, but you decide not to press him on it. Maybe you’ll ask him about it later, if you ever run into him again.

You tell him your name, and he straightens back up, rolling your name off his tongue, causing you to flush gently under the intensity of his piercing blue gaze, He jerks his thumb back at the group of young men behind him. “The guys and I were just hanging around the boardwalk. Wanna walk with me pretty girl?”

You look over his shoulder to see the other four men staring you down intently. There something about the way they’re looking at you that makes you uneasy, but you can’t place what about it makes you uncomfortable. Instead, you smile up at him and shake your head.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to interrupt your time with your friends. I just wanted to explore a little bit. I’m still unpacking my apartment, so I should probably get back to doing that.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding.” Dabi sends you another grin, teeth glinting like knives in the carnival lights. “I’m sure you’d be better company then those jokers always.”

“I’m good.” You tell him, gently removing his arm from around your shoulders, watching as his smirk falls slightly at your gesture. “Maybe next time, if you’re around.”

“My boys and I live close to the area. I’m sure we’ll meet up at some point.” Dabi takes a step back from you, shoving his hands into his pockets, and sends you another smoldering grin that makes your heart speed up to dangerous levels.

“See you later sweetheart.”

“Bye.” You tell him with a timid wave, watching as he sends you a knowing wink, before turning on his heel and making his way back to his friends, who are already at his throat.

“What the hell was that, Dabi? Thought you were going to bring her back for sure.”

“Dude, I can’t believe you didn’t take her out. You always manage to pull—”

“Shut the hell up you psychos.”

Your roll your eyes as at their conversation as you shift your purse on your shoulder and walk in the opposite direction, away from the interesting group and back towards your apartment. The sound of the roaring ocean overtakes the sounds of the boardwalk as you make the trek back to your apartment alone.

You wake up the next morning to the sound of your phone alarm going off.

You get up with a groan, and slowly begin your morning routine. You shuffle around your apartment as you get ready to start your new office job. You pack your lunch with what meager items you have in your fridge, before heading downstairs to where your car is parked. Hopping in, you quickly plug the coordinates into your car’s nav system, and make the twenty-minute drive to your new office.

 It’s small building, and your job is an entrée level position, but it pays decently well and is still more than enough to cover your living expenses – it’s part of the reason you took the job in the first place, since you’ll have to pay the entirety of your rent by yourself now.

Still, you’d much rather struggle by yourself then crawl back to your ex.

You day is uneventful, and you spend the majority of your day filling out new employee paperwork and getting to know the rest of your new colleagues. They’re nice and seemingly keep mostly to themselves, something you’re not used to after working in Tokyo for the last several years.

Still though, you can’t complain. Honestly, you think it might be good to keep your head down for a while as you get settled in. There’d be plenty of time to get to know the rest of your new coworkers later.

Your day passes quickly, and before you know it, you’re pulling into your parking space at your apartment building. Soon enough, you find yourself shutting the door to your apartment with a sigh as you kick your shoes off, before heading into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable.

As you make your way back out into your small living room, you’re hit with how bland your new apartment looks in comparison to your old one, and suddenly you don’t want to be in your tiny apartment. You glance out the living room window that’s pointed towards the beach and you know where you want to go.

Grabbing your keys, you find yourself making the short walk to the beach as the sun sinks lower in the sky, casting golden reflections on the water’s choppy service. You spend an hour on the beach, relaxing and breathing in the salty air, before getting up and making your way over to the boardwalk where several food vendors are setting up.

After paying for some cotton candy, you walk around the darkening boardwalk, nibbling mindlessly on your food as you explore several areas you hadn’t been able to look at the night before. As the numerous strings of fairy lights decorating the rides gradually get brighter as the sky grows darker, you decide you head back to your apartment before it get’s too late.

Before you can turn around to make your way back to your home, you feel a presence behind you and a sudden heat washes over you.

“Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon sweetheart.”

You whirl around at the familiar voice, only to see the dark-haired man from the night before standing behind you with a sharp grin. You note he’s wearing the same clothes from the night before, but he’s switched out his long duster for a shorter leather jacket with a ripped collar, adding to his intrigue.

“Oh hey! Dabi, right?” you ask him, prompting him to nod with a wicked smirk.

“Sounds nice, coming from you.”

You roll your eyes at his flirtatious comment, instead asking what you wanted to ask him last night. “That’s not your real name, is it?”

Dabi’s smirk only grows wider at your question, his bright blue eyes seemingly growing brighter. “No.”

“You ever going to tell me what it is?”

The dark-haired man clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Maybe later, if you stick around long enough.”

You shrug, not seeing any point in pushing it further. “Do you live around here?”

Dabi nods after a moment. “Yeah, I rent a place near here with a few guys. They’re tolerable.”

“Oh, your friends from last night?” you ask, thinking back to the group of men with him last night. You can’t help but grin as the man’s handsome face twists into a grimace at your comment.

“Wouldn’t go as far as to call them my friends, but we’ll go with that.” His dry response causes you to laugh.

“So, you’re more of a lone wolf, huh?”

Dabi snorts, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. “Absolutely. Up until those idiots wormed their way into my life years ago, I was fine with being on my own.”

You laugh at his comment before asking: “Have you lived here long?”

At your question, Dabi seems to pause. You watch as he chews on his bottom lip before carefully responding.

“I’ve been here a while, yeah.”

You nod, “Well, it seems nice here from what I’ve seen so far. It’s a lot different from Tokyo, but in a good way, I think.”

Dabi snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks away from you. “If you’re saying that, then you clearly don’t know what actually goes on around here.”

You frown at his cryptic reply, not sure how to feel about what he’s telling you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dabi only gestures for you to follow him, and you do without much resistance. He ends up taking you further down the boardwalk to a spot you hadn’t yet been to, and stops in front of a large bulletin board plastered with several layers of white filers.

He taps the board. “Welcome to the missing person’s capitol of Japan.” He tells you flatly, allowing you to get a closer look at the papers rustling in the breeze. 

You feel your heart sink into your stomach as you take in the layers upon layers of printed paper faces and their basic information printed out under them. From what you can see, some of the missing person fliers are months old, and others are as recent as a week ago. The missing people seem to be of every age and ethnicity, but the number of people plastered on the bulletin board is shocking.  

You turn to Dabi, flabbergasted. “What the hell is this?”

Dabi shrugs nonchalantly. “An open secret.”

“I checked out the area before I moved here. All the websites I looked at painted this place as quiet and safe. I never saw anything like this.” You protested, causing the dark-haired man to nod.

“That’s because the authorities do whatever they can to cover it up. This has been going on for a long time. Years, honestly. These are the most recent ones.”

“The most recent?!”

“Like I said, years, babe. Didn’t you ever wonder why the rent around here was so cheap?”

“I—well, I mean, yeah, but—” You run a hand through your hair nervously. “I came here to escape from the chaos – not get involved in a different kind.”

Dabi pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and puts one in his mouth, but doesn’t light it, instead opting to nudge your shoulder gently. “You’ll be fine during the day. No one’s going to steal you away sweetheart. It’s night time you have to be worried about. Just keep your head down and don’t go looking for trouble, you’ll be fine.”

You hum in response, but you must not look very convinced, because he sighs around his cigarette, taking it out of his mouth and flicking it into a nearby trashcan. “Tell you what; how about I walk you back to your building. Will that make you feel better?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you—”

“You’re not.” Dabi interrupts you as he brushes past you gently, his abnormally warm fingers ghost the skin of your arm as he passes you. “Come on. I’ll take you back home. Can’t have someone snatching you away now, can we?”

He winks at you, laughing lightly as your face flushes against your will, yet you find yourself tailing after him, leading him back to your apartment. Normally you’d be very against allowing a near perfect stranger to know where you live, but the news of the missing people has shaken you more then you’d like to admit, and right now having some extra company doesn’t seem like a bad idea.

You walk slowly back to your apartment side by side with him, and in that time, you end up talking about anything and everything. Conversation seems to come naturally with him, and your guard slowly drops. The more you talk to him, the more he seems to loosen up in turn, though he keeps a polite distance when you try and find out more about him, instead, re-directing the conversation back to you.

“So, you never told me why you left Tokyo.” he drawls, heavily lidded eyes finding your own. “This isn’t exactly near there. I’m just trying to understand why you’d wanna leave your family behind to come here. You don’t strike me as the type who likes being alone for long periods of time.”

You stop short and mull over his question in your head. As much as you didn’t want to get into it, the raven-haired man was the closest thing you had to a friend here, and if you continued talking to him as you were, the question was bound to come up eventually. Instead, you exhale loudly through your nose before answering.

“Your original guess wasn’t far off.” You admit quietly, watching as his dark brows rise slightly at your subdued response.

You elaborate. “I left Tokyo to escape from my ex. The relationship had been bad for a while, and I should’ve left sooner then I did, but it was really hard. He was so possessive at the end, I felt like I was suffocating. It never got physical between us, but it probably would’ve if I stayed longer.”

You look up at your companion, only to see that his normally bright eyes are dark, and there’s a prominent tick in his jaw that hadn’t been there earlier. Dabi catches you staring at him, and sighs.

“Does he know where you are?” You shake your head.

“Not that I know of. I didn’t tell many people I was moving here aside from my parents. Most of my friends know I moved, but don’t know where to. I wanted to keep it quiet since he’s still trying to find ways to contact me. I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

Dabi hums in agreement as you approach your building. “So, you don’t have any friends out here, huh?”

You shake your head as you approach the main entrance. “I’m all by myself.”

You both stop a few feet from the door, and to your surprise (and relief), Dabi makes no move to invite himself in. You were worried he’d insist on walking you to your actual apartment, and as handsome as he was; you weren’t sure you wanted him knowing what apartment was yours… yet.

You’re just about to bid him goodnight before he suddenly speaks up, catching you off guard.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“No plans as far as I know. Just working during the day. I should be free past six. Why?” You sputter, not expecting him to ask.

Dabi shrugs, sending you a relaxed grin, and once again you note how his teeth are oddly sharp. “It’s Friday night. If you’re not busy and you want to make some new friends, the guys I room with are having a night in. If you want to join, you can. Our place isn’t far from here.”

You’re slightly shocked at his offer. He doesn’t seem like the type who enjoys more people hanging around him then necessary, but then again, you’ve been wrong about people before, and now that he’s offered, he’s right: you don’t have any friends out here, and you are becoming lonely. Maybe meeting some new people wouldn’t be a terrible thing.

Before you can think about it any longer, you hear yourself agreeing. “Sure, that sounds great.”

Dabi smirks at you, broadcasting his pearly canines. “Excellent. I’ll let them know you’re coming. I’ll come pick you up back here when the sun drops. My place is about twenty minutes by car.”

You nod with a small smile. “That sounds good. Thanks again for walking me back Dabi.”

He only waves you off. “It’s nothing, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, bye.” You tell him as you open the door to your building, watching as he shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets and heads back in the direction of the boardwalk without another word. You watch him leave until he’s all but swallowed up by the surrounding darkness, before smiling to yourself and heading inside.

Dabi sinks his fangs into the man’s neck faster than he can scream for help. He holds him locked in a death embrace until the man’s frantic thrashing grows weaker, before completely stilling as his body grows limp in his hold.

It’s only when the man’s colour pallet has gone a deathly white does Dabi finally release his grip on the man, letting him collapse onto the sandy ground underneath the boardwalk. He wipes his bloodied mouth on the back of his sleeve with a grimace as he stares down at his victim.

Sour. Too sour for his liking. Clearly the man wasn’t in the best health before he got his hands on him, but beggers couldn’t be choosers, and he was hungry.

That’s the biggest downside to being what he is: the insatiable thirst for blood couldn’t be ignored for long. He would know. He’s tried to fight against his unsavory appetite in the past, but the end results are always the same, and he not about to starve just so a few lost souls could be spared. He’s no saint – in fact, he’s damn near the opposite of one.

Vampire.

The title is branded into him, even if only he can see it. He has to feed regularly in order to keep his more monstrous tendencies at bay, but he can go a few days without a meal. Any longer than that, and the real him becomes visible to all. The last thing he needs is anyone finding out what he really is.

Dabi feels his fangs slowly retract into his gums as he cooly observes his latest kill. It wasn’t anything personal, he didn’t even know the guy’s name. Just like the rest of his victims, he prefers not to know anything about them – it makes draining their blood harder later on. The body laying before him was just some random man he’d seen wandering the boardwalk by himself half drunk, making him an ideal target. It was all too easy to lure the man to a more secluded spot before jumping him, but he’s had years of practice perfecting his craft. He’s done it so many times he doesn’t feel much of anything anymore.

The missing person board can confirm that much.

Once he’s certain most of the evidence has been cleaned from his face, he snaps his fingers, and the corpse before him suddenly bursts into bright blue flames – consuming the unnamed man until there’s nothing left of him except for a pile of blackened ash, and the horrid smell of burnt meat. 

Dabi sighs as he turns away from the remains and slowly trudges out from the wooden underbelly of the boardwalk above him, kicking at sand carelessly as his thoughts drift back to you.

You smell so good. Your blood practically sings to him. Walking you back to your apartment had been a challenge to him, as he had to fight every urge screaming at him to whisk you away and drain you dry, just like he’s planned to when he’d first laid eyes on you. But the more he talked to you, and the more you’d let him in on certain parts of your life, the less he wanted to do so.

You were… different. You stuck out from the other humans he’s forced to be around. You were sweet, if a bit withdrawn, but it added to your appeal. Your personality was refreshing, and it made him want to keep you around, and figure out just who you really are.

It helped that he found you to be rather… pretty, to say the least.

He wouldn’t bother trying to deny you were a good-looking girl. He’d seen the way you’d looked at him on the merry go round, and if that meant anything, then you found him to be just as attractive.

Well… at least you found his current face to be handsome. He’s not sure how you’d react to his real face, but he’d cross that bridge if and when he came to it.

He feels the corners of his lips upturn at the thought. Now the real test would be if you could handle him and his boys.

The next day is uneventful. You continue your training at the office, and slowly get to know some your co-workers past a first name basis. You finish up your work load at the end of the day and bid your co-workers good-bye, before making your way back home.

The sun is just starting to dip down in the sky by the time you get back into your apartment. You toss your keys onto your tiny kitchen table, taking a seat and scrolling through your phone mindlessly.

You respond to a few texts from your friends who know where you moved to, letting them know that you’re doing okay, and how you were going to meet with some of the locals later, before one of your friends texts out something that sends a chill down your spine.

Your ex had reached out to them asking them where you went.

Your friend assures you they didn’t tell him anything before you can ask, but you still feel a heavy weight building in your stomach. You end up putting your phone down after promising you’ll text them later, before getting up and moving into the living room, breathing heavily as you fight to control your nerves.

The sun has just sunk behind the horizon as you peer out your window, only to balk as you see a sleek black car parked beside yours in the parking lot, and a familiar man lounging on the hood, smoking a cigarette.

You swear to yourself as you grab your room key and bolt out of your apartment and down the staircase to the main floor. You make your way out into the parking lot, waving at the dark-haired man, who straightens up upon seeing you.

“Hey.” Dabi rasps, tossing down his cigarette and stomping it out.

“Hi.” You tell him with a slight smile. “I didn’t expect you to come by so soon.”

“I told you when the sun sinks.” The blue-eyed man retorts, but there’s no venom behind it. “You ready?”

“Let me get changed first.” You tell him, gesturing down to your work clothes. “You can come in and wait in my apartment if you want. I’d feel bad if I left you out here.”

Dabi looks hesitant at first, but he nods and follows you stiffly towards the entrance of your building. You wave him through, and he passes you with a slightly uncomfortable look on his face, before following you up the stairs to your front door. You open it and step in, expecting him to follow you, but he doesn’t. You shoot him a questioning look, and he cocks an eyebrow at you, giving you a tiny smirk.

“Gonna invite me in doll?”

“Oh, sorry, you can come in.” You laugh, and that seems to be the invitation he was waiting for, since he glides through your doorframe easily, shutting it behind him.

You can’t help by notice how glaringly out of place he seems in your minimalist apartment. He sticks out against the light colours like a sore thumb, and you have to bite back a giggle as you watch him take a seat on your small living room couch.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” you ask him as you make your way towards your room. Dabi only shakes his head as he leans back into your sofa.

“I’m good doll, thanks.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in just a second.” You tell him as you dip into your room, shutting your door behind you. You quickly throw on some casual but nice clothes and run a brush through your hair in an attempt to rid yourself of the tangles. You don’t know what kind of night you were in for with a bunch of men who looked to be in various stages of their twenties and early thirties, but you still wanted to look presentable. The last thing you wanted was to be accused that you were trying too hard, or turning Dabi’s invitation into something it wasn’t.

Once your satisfied with how you look, you make your way into your living room where Dabi is waiting for you. You don’t miss how he eyes you up and down as he stands up and makes his way over to you. “Ready?”

“All set.” You confirm, watching as his fiery blue eyes seem to light up as he grins at you. Twirling his car keys on his finger.

“I’ll drive.”

You follow him downstairs to his car, and surprisingly, he holds the door open for you. You slide into his passenger seat with a stammered thank you, allowing him to close the door behind you and get into the driver’s side, starting the car with a low roar. He puts the car in gear and pulls out of the apartment complex, before turning onto the road that leads back towards the beach, chatting you up all the while.

Your nerves about meeting the rest of his roommates slowly fade away as he assures you that his roommates where alright (even though he claimed they were still annoying), and while some of them were quieter than others, they meant well.

He steers the car past the boardwalk, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him. Dabi catches your look and chuckles. “I rent a house on the other side of town with a few guys. It’s more secluded.”

You nod as you watch the multi-coloured lights from the rides pass you by as Dabi continues on down the road. You learn very quickly he wasn’t kidding about his house being secluded, as he pulls off the main road and onto a dirt path leading into the trees that line the left side of the road. You can’t help but inwardly sweat at the change of scenery, but the passive look on Dabi’s face doesn’t change as he focuses on the road.

“You plan on murdering me or something?” You half joke, only for him to snicker.

“Naw doll, not tonight. You’re too pretty for that.”

He must see how flushed your face is reflected in the mirror, because he laughs openly at you and reaches over to squeeze your knee with a hot hand

“Kidding. Relax, we’re here. Probably should’ve told you I live in the middle of nowhere.” He chuckles as he pulls into an old driveway and puts the car in park. “Welcome to my house.”

You find yourself looking at a large traditional-styled home that looks like nothing’s been done to it since the turn of the past century. There’s moss and dead leaves littering the roof and front yard, and some of the white paint on the front of the house is cracked and pealing. If you had stumbled across the house on your own, you would’ve thought it was abandoned – if not for the two other cars parked on the other side of the driveway, signaling the house was inhabited.

Dabi must see your apprehensive look as he gets out to open your door again despite your protests. “I know, it looks like a bit of a dump.” He admits as he jerks a thumb towards the house. “That’s what happens when you have five guys who all work nights living under one roof. Rents cheap though. It’s why we’ve been here for so long.”

“You all work nights?” you ask as Dabi leads you towards the front door. He hums in agreement as he opens the door, exposing a dark inside interior.

The more you think about it, the more it makes since. You’ve never encountered him during the day, and every time you’ve run into him it was always near the boardwalk.

“What is it that you do?” you ask him as he flicks on a light near the door, illuminating an old mudroom and part of a dark hall. He shuts the door behind you as he kicks off his shoes, prompting you to do the same.

“I work near the docks.” He tells you vaguely as he gestures for you to follow him further into the house. “I do some operational work. Shipping and receiving. All that boring shit. It’s not very exciting.”

“What do the rest of your roommates do?” you ask him as he takes you towards a closed off room near the back of the house. You can hear different voices echoing behind the door as well as what sounds like a TV playing in the background. Dabi only shakes his head at you as he opens the door, exposing the room inside.

“You can ask them yourself.”

You step inside and are greeted to the sight of the four men from the boardwalk lounging around a large flatscreen TV. The man with the pink dye job and silver haired man with the odd scarring on his face are huddled around the screen playing a fighting game, while the two older looking gentlemen are sitting on the worn leather couch behind them, providing commentary. The blonde one with the scar running down the front of his face is smoking another cigarette, while the brunette dressed in well-tailored clothes is sitting on the other side of the couch, away from the smoke.

The pink haired man lets out huff of annoyance as his on-screen character dies. He turns around, only to freeze as he locks eyes with you.

“Oh shit.” He breathes, “She came.”

His comment causes the other men to turn around and stare at you, their facial relations ranging from a mixture of surprise to slight distrust. You don’t know why some of them are looking at you with slightly guarded expressions, but you don’t get to dwell on it for long, as Dabi comes in behind you and lightly drapes an arm across your shoulders.

“These are the guys.” He announces, nodding at each of them in turn. “The two idiots on the floor are Tomera and Iguchi. That’s Jin,” he nods to the blonde who breaks out into a grin, waving at you. “—and last but not least is Atsuhiro.” The aforementioned man stands up to greet you, giving you a polite handshake.

“I apologize for the mess.” He tells you, gesturing around the crowed room. “We seldom get guests. We weren’t sure if you were actually going to come.”

“That’s alright. I didn’t notice.” You tell him as Dabi steers you towards an empty couch to the side of the one Jin and Atsuhiro are sitting on. You notice he keeps his hand on your frame as you sit down with him, and he doesn’t remove it afterwards, almost as if he’s guarding you. It’s not uncomfortable, but you notice the same uneasy feeling you had when you first met him and his motley crew is back. There’s something about them that unnerves you, but for the life of you, you can’t place what it is.

They seem alright at first glance though. Tomura and Iguchi resume their game, but make a point to talk to you while they play, as Jin and Atsuhrio engage you in conversation, all the while Dabi observes you, not really adding anything to the conversations, and seems content just listening to you talk to his roommates.

You find out that Tomura and Iguchi are streamers – their online tags being Shigaraki and Spinner respectively – while Atsuhrio works as a street performer using the stage name Mr. Compress. Meanwhile Jin (who insists you call him Twice, for reasons he doesn’t get into), does deliveries around town during the evening, on top of working with Dabi at the docks when it’s slow, but has the night off tonight.

As you slowly start to relax, the conversations gradually become easier until you’re questioning why you felt so uneasy in the first place; that is, until Tomera makes an off-handed comment to you.

“M’surprised he brought you back here.” He jerks a thumb back at Dabi, not looking up from his game. “Most girls don’t last that long with him—”

“Tenko,” Dabi seethes out through gritted teeth beside you. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

“Don’t call me by that name.” The red eyed man snaps suddenly, pausing the game to glare at the man beside you. “That name is dead, and you know I’m right.”

“Don’t be an ass.” Dabi snarls back as he pulls you towards him. “I told you to behave tonight while she’s over.”

“Fuck you, you’re not my father.”

“No, but I can torch your ass—”

“Alright, maybe we shouldn’t have this fight in front of her.” Iguchi suddenly speaks up, cutting them both off. “I don’t know about you guys, but I like her, and I want her to come back.”

“Thank you, Iguchi, I like you too.” You tell him sweetly, causing the tips of his ears to pinken, as he mumbles something intelligible under his breath and turns back towards the TV. Tomura rolls his eyes and resumes the game. Jin only chuckles as he turns towards you.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jin tells you with a genuine smile. “Himiko’s going to love you.”

You shoot Dabi a questioning look, but he only rolls his eyes. “You’ll meet her shortly.”

“Her? But I thought only you guys lived here—”

Before you can get another word out, the distant slam of a door, accompanied by the sound of footsteps rushing towards the room interrupts you. As the light footsteps grow closer, you feel Dabi tense up beside you, as he leans over to whisper something to Atsuhiro that sounds suspiciously along the lines of, “I swear, if she’s just getting back in from one of her nightly rampages, we’re going to have a problem-“ Before a blonde girl who looked to be no older then eighteen, with two hair buns on either side of her head, bursts into the room with an almost manic grin on her face.

“Guys, you would not believe what I smelled coming back up here.” She cackles. “I think there’s a—” she cuts herself off as her abnormally golden eyes find yours. Before you can blink, she’s tossed herself over the couch that Jin and Atsuhrio are sitting on and plops herself down right in front of you.

“Hi! You’re really pretty! I’m Himiko Toga! Who are you?” she questions you with a smile that’s almost too wide for her face. You introduce yourself with a breathless laugh at her animated introduction, only to hear what sounds like a rumble coming from Dabi.

You turn to him only to see his insanely blue eyes are locked on the girl sitting in front of you and realize that he is, in fact growling at her.

“Back off Toga.” He warns her, but she ignores him.

“God I’m so happy another girl is here – I’m stuck here with these smelly boys every day and it get so boring! Do you know that you smell really, really good by the way—”

“Okay, enough.” Dabi hisses through gritted teeth. “Jesus, you don’t need to come onto her that fucking strong.”

Himiko gapes at him in mock shock. “Oh, come on. I could smell her all the way from outside the front door. You know she smells good. We all know!” She points around the room, but for some reason none of the other men meet her eye. In fact, they seem to be trying incredibly hard not to acknowledge what she’s saying.

Odd. You don’t remember putting on any perfume before you left.

“Thanks… I guess.” You tell her, unsure of what to say in response. Before the younger girl can respond, Dabi swiftly interrupts her.

“It’s not a bad thing. This psycho just doesn’t know how to give a compliment like a normal fucking person.” He shoots her a pointed look, but he’s not snarling at her anymore. Himiko seems to get the point, and sticks her tongue out at him, settling into the space between Jin and Atsuhrio, chatting excitedly with the older blonde, while occasionally sneaking glances at you.

The earlier tension fades away and you spend the next couple of hours with the odd group, chatting with each of them. Some of them have more to say then others such as Jin and Himiko, while Tomura and Iguchi are more on the quiet side, but still pleasant to talk to none the less. Dabi remains quiet for the most part next to you, never saying much, but you can tell he’s pleased with how you interact with his roommates.

Still, even as you grow more comfortable around them, there’s still a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that something is off about them. You have no proof to back up your unease though, so you try your best to ignore it, and focus on having a good time. After all, the seemingly mismatched group was the closest thing you had to actual friends here, and made you realize how badly you missed your group of friends back home.  

You quickly end up losing track of time, and it’s only when Dabi checks his phone besides you, and muffles a curse under his breath, do you realize how late it is.

“Shit, it’s already five, I gotta take you home, sun will be up soon.” He mutters as he stands up, offering a hand to you, which you accept.

“Gotta keep up your sleep schedule?” you ask, hearing Tomura snort in the background at your comment. Dabi only nods as he heads towards the door.

“Something like that.”

You wave at the rest of the group. “It was really nice meeting you all.” You tell them sincerely. “Hopefully we can do this again sometime.”

“Come back anytime!” Himiko chirps, waving at you enthusiastically. “You better bring her back!” she crows at Dabi’s retreating from, and he waves at her without turning back around.

He leads you towards the front of the house where your shoes are, before walking out into the dewy morning air towards his car. Once again, he holds your door open for you, ignoring your protests, before getting in himself and starting the car, pulling out of the old driveway, and heading back down the dirt path towards the main road.

The sun is just starting to peak out from the horizon, painting the coastline in soft pinks and purples as Dabi steers the car past the old boardwalk, before you finally ask the question that had been on your mind for the last couple of hours.

“So, what’s the deal with Himiko?”

The dark-haired man only grunts. “You mean why is she so unhinged? Beats the hell outta me princess. “

“No, not that.” You wave him off, smacking his shoulder playfully at the nickname as he sends you a shit-eating grin in response. “I mean… you didn’t tell me about her initially, and I’ve never seen her with you before. Does she live with you too?”

Dabi mulls over your question for a moment, keeping a careful eye on the horizon which is slowly growing brighter, as he turns onto your street. After a moment he nods.

“Yeah, she does.” He confirms. “I know how it looks: one high school girl living with five guys in their twenties and thirties, but trust me, it’s not like that.” He’s quiet for a moment before elaborating.

“Toga has a shitty past. She ran away from her folks years ago – bad homelife from what she told us – and she had nowhere to go for a long time. I found her wandering the boardwalk one day and she never left after that. She took to Twice immediately, and she’s basically like his little sister. He’d do just about anything for her.” He exhales through his noes as he begrudgingly admits; “Hell, we all would.”

“Damn, how much did it hurt to admit that?” you tease him, prompting him groan.

“Shut up.” He grumbles as he pulls into your building’s parking lot. He parks the car and turns to you. “So, did we scare you off?”

“Not yet.” you tell him with a smile as you unbuckle your seat beat and open your door, posed to leave. “You guys are definitely interesting, I’ll give you that, but honestly; this was really nice. Thank you for inviting me over. I hope we can do it again sometime soon.”

Dabi shrugs his shoulders, “Well they seem to like you, especially Toga and Twice, so you’re welcome to come over again if you want. It’ll have to be during the evening though, since we all work at night.”

“Noted.” You tell him as you slide out of the car, only for him to suddenly grab your arm. You turn to stare at him quizzically, only for him to nod at your purse.

“Gimme me your phone for a second.”

You unlock it and pass it to him wordlessly, only to see him open a new contact in your phone and type something into it before passing it back to you. “My number.” He tells you before you can ask. “It’s easier to get a hold of me this way, rather than running into me at night at random.”

“Good call.” You agree, “I’ll text you later?”

“I’ll be waiting.” He sends you a knowing smirk. “I’ll see you later sweetheart.”

“Yeah… later.” You tell him, closing the door behind you. He waits until you’ve made it inside your building’s lobby, before peeling out of the parking lot and taking off towards his house like hell on wheels. You find it a little strange, but you loose track of your thoughts when you glance down at your phone, only to see he’s labeled himself as Dabi with a little flame emoji and a winky face next to his name in your contacts.

You feel yourself blush involuntarily as you stuff your phone back in your purse and climb the stairs to your apartment.

You definitely had a crush on him, you couldn’t deny it. Yet there was something off about him you just couldn’t place. There was something he wasn’t telling you – you just couldn’t figure out what it was.

The next several weeks come and go, and for the most part, they’re uneventful.

Work is going well, and you finally manage to find the time to finish personalizing your apartment so it looks more like home. Your friends still message you occasionally, giving you updates about what’s going on back home, and your ex pops up in conversation with them once or twice on how he’s still asking about you, much to your dismay. Aside from that, everything in your life is shockingly normal.

It feels almost odd being able to say it out loud. This is the most at ease you’ve felt since breaking up with your ex. Being on your own, away from him and his obsessive tendencies, makes you question why you didn’t do it sooner.

It feels nice, being able to breathe for the first time in almost two years since calling it off with him. Your life is calmer, maybe a bit slower than you’re used to, but it’s peaceful and stable. You’re happy.

The only major thing that’s changed recently is how you’re spending a lot more time around Dabi now.

Ever since he gave you his number, you’ve been texting back and forth frequently. You’ve gotten to know him better in that time (even though he still refused to tell you his real name), and you can safely say; he has his quirks.

For starters; he only messages you at night. He’s radio silent during the day, and only texts you back once the sun has set, or whenever he gets up. You’d blame it on him working nights, but he’s always quick to respond to your texts late at night, and always seems to be free whenever you message him asking if he wanted to get together, making you wonder what kind of work schedule he runs on.

Another thing you find peculiar is how you don’t think you’ve ever seen him eat before. You’ve offered to make him dinner a few times or to go into town to get something, but he always waves you off politely, telling you he’s already eaten, or giving you some other reason why he doesn’t want to get food with you. It’s not a deal-breaker by any means, and he doesn’t strike you as the type to have issues with food, but you leave it be just in case.

He's also weird about coming into your apartment even though he’s been in it multiple times by now. You’d initially thought he was uncomfortable being in your space, but it seems to be more of a politeness thing than anything else. He’s definitely not as stiff about entering like he was when he first came to visit, but he still makes a show about you inviting him in, even though he claims he could waltz right into your unit if he wanted to, but he never does.

Finally, you’ve noticed he isn’t particularly well-liked by the locals. In fact; none of the people in his house seem to be, but it’s especially bad with him.

It’s glaringly obvious. He’s taken you into town a handful of times so you can walk around together, only for people to glare pointedly at him and start whispering as soon as you were both out of ear-shot. If it bothers him, he doesn’t let it show, but you know from how his jaw tenses up, he’s aware that people are talking behind his back.

You tried to ask him about it once, but he shrugged you off, saying something about how there was some bad blood between him and some of the older locals, but refused to dive into it, stating how it was old news, but some people didn’t like to forget the past. His tone had given you the impression he wasn’t going to tell you any more than that, so you’d left it alone, not wanting to get into it.

There were somethings people didn’t feel comfortable sharing. You could relate; your rocky relationship with your ex was one of those topics for you.

To his credit, Dabi doesn’t pry into it, but it’s come up a few times – it’s inevitable, you knew it would eventually – but he doesn’t force you to say more then what you want to tell him. You don’t think you’d have to say much anyways; he seems to be able to piece together what happened in your past relationship on his own, without you having to say much of anything.

“Guy’s a dick.” He’d told you bluntly one night as you were taking an evening stroll around the boardwalk. “Seriously, he sounds like a tool. You should be glad you got out of there when you did. I wouldn’t waste your time crying over someone like him.”

“Easy to say that now – it wasn’t so easy when I was living with him.” You’d told him calmly. “We had joint banking. It’s hard to get out when you have to pay rent and buy groceries. I saved up enough to move out and get my place here eventually, but it took time.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, shifting his piercing blue orbs from your figure to the wooden boards beneath his feet, before nodding and muttering mostly to himself; “Yeah. I get that.”

For some reason, your heart had swelled in your chest upon seeing him vulnerable for a moment – a far cry from his usual fiery and cocky self.

In that moment you knew you were screwed; you were down bad for a man whose real name you still didn’t know. Somewhere along the lines, he had wormed his way into your heart without you noticing, and made a place from himself there.

Yet, you couldn’t say you minded. He was different from anyone you’d ever met, but in a way you found refreshing.

Currently, you find yourself walking with him on the boardwalk once again, admiring the blinking strings of fairy lights. Dabi doesn’t hold your hand, but he walks stride for stride with you, your shoulders bumping occasionally at the close proximity. Suddenly, a loud wail interrupts the usual fair noises permeating the warm evening air around you.

You both turn in the direction of the cry, only to see two middle-aged women standing in front of the massive missing person’s board. One of the ladies is sobbing unconsolably, while the other one is trying to console her.

Ah yes, you’d been so wrapped up with moving into your place and hanging out with Dabi on top of work, you’d almost completely forgotten about the town’s dark underbelly.

You can see Dabi’s lips pull downwards slightly as he takes them in, and he reaches out to try and steer you away from the scene, muttering under his breath about not wanting to get involved, but you gently pull your arm away from his grasp as you take a hesitant step towards the ladies who are slowly moving away from the old wooden board. You manage to overhear the last bit of their conversation as they leave, and older woman’s cry’s pull at your heart.

“—I don’t understand, where could he have gone? I saw him that morning, but he never came back home!”

“—We’ll find him dear. Maybe he’s visiting your friends on the other side of town.”

“—He would’ve called! It’s been three days! Three days since I’ve heard any word from my husband!”

You creep closer to the old corkscrew board and feel your heart sink in your chest as you find yourself looking at a fresh photo of a middle-aged man, presumably the woman’s missing husband. Now that you can see the board in its entirety, you notice there’s several new fliers posted among the sea of other missing faces, presumably never found.

You hear the heavy tread of Dabi’s combat boots behind you. “There’s more.” You tell him sadly without turning around. You hear him exhale loudly through his nose.

“Told you there would be. I wasn’t lying. This place is the missing person’s capitol of Japan.”

“I don’t understand.” You turn to face him, only to see that he has a blank expression on his face, giving nothing away. “I’ve never seen anything suspicious when we’ve gone out at night, and you told me that’s when this stuff usually happens.”

“The difference is; you don’t go out looking for trouble.” Dabi tells you smoothly, his insanely blue irises meeting yours, locking you in place. “Trust me, these people probably went out of their way to stumble across something they weren’t supposed to see, and they paid the price for it. Bad things happen all the time sweetheart, whether you see them or not.”

“You seem pretty confident about that.” You murmur finally, holding his gaze. “Had some experience with trouble in the past?”

For once, Dabi doesn’t have anything to say to you. Finally, he sighs and rakes a hand through his inky spikes. “Maybe.”

You want to ask him what he means, but in that moment, you feel your phone vibrate from inside your purse. You fish it out, only to see a text appear on screen that has your blood turning to ice in your veins.

???

Found you.

There’s no name attached to the text, only a random number you don’t recognize, but you think you already know who it’s from.

It has to be him. There’s only one other person you can think of who would text you something so innocent but so sinister, and it has you feeling like you want to puke.

Your ex-boyfriend.

Your eyes dart around the packed boardwalk wildly, trying to see if you could spot the familiar face of your ex in the crowd, but thankfully, you don’t see him anywhere.

How in the hell did he find you? There were only a few friends aside from your parents who knew where you’d moved to, and you highly doubt any of them would tell him where you’d gone. It was possible he’d simply gotten a new number and found a way to text you just to scare you, and if that’s what he wanted, he had accomplished his goal.

Your panic must be written across your face clear as day, because the next thing you know, Dabi has a hand underneath your chin, lifting your face up to meet his concerned expression.

“—I asked if you were okay doll. I’ve been calling you, but you didn’t respond to me.” He tells you. He glances down at your phone, a frown pulling at his lips. “What’s that?”

“I don’t know.” You tell him truthfully, shoving your phone back into your bag. “A really sick joke, I hope.”

His eyes narrow, the fire burning in them shines brightly, even though they’re more lidded then usual as he narrows his eyes at you. “What’s going on sweetheart?”

“Nothing—I—” You croak. You can’t stop looking around, hoping, praying, you don’t see the one person you were trying to escape from staring back at you. “—I gotta go.”

A look of concern passes over Dabi’s face, and you feel a flash of guilt for lying to him, but you don’t want to get him involved. You don’t want to bring anyone else into your mess. It’s not fair.

“If this was about earlier, I can—”

“It’s not!” you cut him off, already backing away from him. “I’ll text you later. I just—I just gotta go. I’m sorry.”

You don’t give him time to respond, before you pivot on your heel and book it down the boardwalk, away from the blinding lights, and away from him.

You don’t look back, and you don’t stop running until you’re in your tiny apartment – slamming the door behind you and locking it – even though it feels suffocating. It feels like the walls are closing in on you, and you’re finding it hard to breathe as you collapse onto your bed and cry.

You don’t know what to do.

You awake to the sound of furious pounding on your door.

You don’t know when you passed out; probably sometime after you managed to calm down slightly, but you can feel the dried tear tracks covering your cheeks as you slowly sit up and shuffle hesitantly towards your front door. The pounding continues, and you can’t help but wonder what time it is, and if you were going to receive a noise complaint from one of your neighbors, before you hear a horribly familiar voice just outside your door:

“I know you’re in there. You better open up right now or I’ll get your whole building involved!”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins as you hear the unmistakable sound of your ex-boyfriend’s voice snarl threateningly from the other side. You feel like someone’s dumped a bucket of freezing water on you as you start to panic. Tears flood your eyes involuntarily as you try to process what’s happening, but nothing’s making sense.

You have no doubt he’d wake the rest of your apartment building to get at you – if he hadn’t already woken up your neighbors. You know what he’s like better than anyone. Your ex has always been a big guy, and once he has his mind set on something (or someone), he’ll stop at nothing until he’s gotten it.

You have no idea how he got in the building in the first place, or how he figured out what apartment was yours, but that doesn’t matter as you watch your doorknob start twisting violently. You bolt forward and grab it with both hands, trying to keep it from unlocking as you listen to your ex-boyfriend grunt outside the door, no doubt trying to pick the lock from the outside.

After a few moments of back and forth struggling with the door; you hear the tell-take click of the door unlocking. You don’t stick around to watch it swing open – you know you won’t be able to hold it closed against him for long if he tries to force it open – and you sprint to your bedroom, slamming the flimsy door shut and locking it behind you.

You can’t calm down; you hear him in your kitchen, treading around the tiny space, calling for you, before his heavy footsteps slowly make their way towards your bedroom door.

You have limited options; if your apartment was closer to the ground, you’d consider escaping out your bedroom window, but you’re several stories up and you don’t want to do something that may cause you to break your leg, putting you at even more of a disadvantage against your ex-boyfriend. You have no idea what he wants from you, but if he’s so desperate that he’s willing to stalk you and break into your apartment, it can’t be good.

The police will take too long to get to you, you already know this. In the past, they hadn’t been helpful in these kind of situations – you know from experience. You can’t call them… but there is someone you can call.

You dive for your purse and pull out your phone just as your ex starts pounding on your bedroom door. Your finger hovers over Dabi’s contact in your phone, as he starts yelling at you through the door. You don’t want to involve Dabi in your personal troubles, you really don’t… but right now, you don’t have a choice.

Even though you don’t want to call him… you know he’ll help you.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you’ve hit the call button, and scoot yourself into the farthest corner of your room from the door, as you listen to the phone ring. It only rings twice before he picks up.

“It’s three in the morning sweetheart, what’s going on? Are you okay—”

“Dabi please help me!” you interrupt him, whispering frantically as your ex starts to rattle your doorknob. “I’m in trouble. I don’t know what to do!”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” Immediately, his voice deepens, and you can tell he’s on high alert. You can’t see him, but you can hear rustling on the other end, and the tell-tale jingling of keys in the background.

“I’m in my apartment—it’s my ex—I don’t know how, but he found me. He broke in, and now he’s outside my door!” You hate that you’ve starting crying again, but you’re terrified, and Dabi can tell.

“Is he in the room with you?” Dabi rasps on the other line. “I can hear shouting in the background, that him?”

“Yeah, that’s him, and no he’s not, but he’s trying to force his way in!”

Dabi hums and you hear a door slam in the distance, followed by the sound of what you assume is his car starting.

“I’ll be there in less then ten. Just stay on the line with me. Everything’s going to be okay doll, I promise. I don’t know what he wants, but he’s not going to hurt you, I promise—”

At that moment, your bedroom door flies inward, causing you to scream and drop your phone, ending the call, as your ex rushes towards you. A surge of pure adrenaline hits you, and you drive your foot into his stomach and kick him back, giving you enough time to push yourself to your feet and make a mad dash for your door, only for him to grab you around the middle, and throw you down onto your bed, climbing on top of you and pinning your hands before you can recover.

“Get off me you freak!” you screech as you thrash in his hold. You manage to knee him in the sternum, briefly knocking the wind of out him, but it only serves to make him angrier, as he presses his knees into your thighs, and grips your wrists so tightly you know you’ll have handshape bruises adorning your arms for days after.

“Hell no, I finally found you, you little bitch—there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go again.” Your ex seethes above you. “It took me weeks to track you down. Your friends were no help, so took me longer than expected to find you.”

“I didn’t want you to find me, that was the point of me moving here!” you wail as you desperately try to free your legs. “I never want to see you again! What part of that is so hard for you to understand?!”

“Bullshit. You and I aren’t done until I say we’re done.” Your ex snaps. He looks around your bedroom and scoffs.

“I see you’re trying so hard to build a new life without me. Ungrateful brat. You moved on fast.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—”

“Don’t lie to me!” Your ex-boyfriend dips down so your noses are almost touching. “I saw you on the boardwalk with that guy earlier. Who the hell is he? Your fuck-buddy? Your new boy toy?”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but he’s on his way here so I suggest you leave before he makes you!”

At your threat, your ex throws his head back and laughs. “I know what he looks like. He’s not even half my body weight. I’m not fucking scared of him—”

The abrupt sound of your front door being kicked in aggressively stops him mid-sentence, and the sound of heavy boots stomping towards your bedroom causes him to freeze. Your ex shifts so he’s more upright and looks behind him, giving you a clear view of your doorframe; only to see Dabi standing in it, looking absolutely feral.

His dark hair is wilder then usual, obsidian spikes sticking up every which way, and he has on the dark, torn duster you’d first seen him in over his usual dark pants and white tee-shirt, giving him a an almost deranged look. He has a mean glint in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and he looks almost predatory as your bedroom casts odd shadows across his face. You’ve never seen him this pissed before, and all of your instincts are screaming at you to run as you take in his disheveled appearance. 

“You’re not scared of me, huh?” Dabi chuckles, but there’s no humor to it. His voice is as cold as ice, but his eyes are like blue fire, and are locked on your ex.

“You should be.”

It’s the only warning you get before he lunges at your ex. The sudden tackle rips him off of you and Dabi wastes no time taking him to the floor as you bolt upright. You look on in shock as both men wrestle on the floor before it turns into an all-out slug fest between them. You leap out of the way as they make their way off the floor and crash into your walls, never once taking their hands off of each other as they yell obesities and filth that you’re certain your next-door neighbor can hear through your shared wall. 

Honestly, you’re shocked at how well Dabi is handling himself – you didn’t think he was weak, but he’s much leaner then your ex and not as tall – yet, he’s clearly got the upper hand as he cracks your ex across the face in rapid succession. You freeze as his nose explodes into a mess of scarlet, splattering across his face and your wall as he yells out in pain, taking his hands off of Dabi to hold his nose in a pathetic attempt to stanch the bleeding. The sudden display of gore has the opposite effect on Dabi.

He stares at the blood flowing from your ex’s nose like a faucet, before shooting you an almost apologetic look. 

“Sorry you have to see this doll.”

You don’t have time to ask him what he means before he seems to shift right before your eyes. The shadows of your room seem to warp and twist around him, and you think it’s just a trick of the moonlight streaming in from your window; until you watch his obsidian hair turn stark white.

You feel your eyes widen as his form shifts – you ex is too busy trying to keep his nose together to pay attention to what’s happening in front of him – but you notice a horrible burning smell wafting through the room as his once pale, flawless skin morphs into a patchwork mess of dusky, wrinkled burns, held together to the few patches of visible healthy skin by what looks like silver surgical staples glinting wickedly in the pale moonlight.

You have no idea what’s happening to him or who or what he is, but you feel your knees give out as he flashes you a nasty looking grin, giving you a full view of the wicked sharp fangs sliding down past his burnt lower lip.

“You—” you whisper, but you don’t manage to say anything more, before Dabi turns back to your ex, grabbing him by the hair and yanking him down to his level, before sinking his razor-sharp fangs into the side of his neck before the larger man can even register what’s happening.

Your ex tries to fend him off, but Dabi is stronger. He ends up relinquishing his hold on his hair in favour of wrapping his arms around him in a death embrace. You can’t pull your eyes off of the scene in front of you, as your ex’s struggling gradually grows weaker, while Dabi laps at the blood flowing freely from the deep puncture holes in the side of his neck.

You hear your ex gargle wetly in the back of his throat before he goes completely limp in the white-haired mans grip. After a moment, Dabi retracts his fangs from his neck, before tossing his motionless body to the floor. You whimper involuntarily as you cover your mouth, staring at the lifeless body of your ex-boyfriend as Dabi whirls around to face you, his piercing eyes finding yours.

“You killed him.” You whisper. Dabi only glances down at the still-warm corpse on your bedroom floor for half a second before locking eyes with you again.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“He was assaulting you.”

“Oh.” You croak lamely. You try not to stare at the red coating his lips and dripping down his chin, staining the white of his shirt.

A moment of silence descends on your room. The only thing you can hear is the frantic pounding of your heart in your chest – it’s so loud in the resounding silence, you’re sure Dabi can hear it. The air is so tense you can cut it with a knife, but neither of you make a move. Finally, you clear your throat.

“I think I’m going to call the police.”

“You’re not going to do that.”

When the ivory-haired creature speaks, his voice is low and quiet, but you can tell just by looking at his eyes, he means business. You swallow thickly and nod to the corpse behind him.

“There’s a dead body in my apartment Dabi, I need to call the police. I—” you cough, trying to reason with him. “I’m not going to tell them about you. I won’t say anything. I know you were trying to protect me, but I can’t just ignore a dead body in my bedroom—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dabi interrupts you, waving a hand at the corpse dismissively. “I’ll take care of it.”

“What do you mean you’ll—”

Dabi snaps his fingers, and before you can blink, the corpse of your ex-boyfriend bursts into bright blue flames. You scream as you scramble backwards, pressing yourself further against the wall, as the flames rage and quickly consume the body before your eyes. Dabi only grins savagely at your reaction.

“Don’t be scared sweetheart. He’s trash. The least he can do is become fuel for my flames.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, watching as the cobalt flames extinguish themselves, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. “What are you?”

Dabi only stares you down as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think you already know the answer doll.”

You do. But you don’t think you can voice it out loud. You don’t know what it means for either of you now.

Dabi licks his mismatched lips, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his red tinted fangs. “You’re coming with me.”

You shake your head. “No, hold on—”

“I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart.”

He’s on you faster than you can blink. He slaps a brunt hand over your mouth before you can cry out. He grabs your chin with his free hand as he presses you up against the wall, forcing you to stare into his burning irises.

“Sleep.” He commands.

You feel a wave of sudden fatigue pass over you, and your eyelids flutter shut against your will. The last thing you remember is feeling his insanely warm arms wrap around you and a sudden feeling of weightlessness, before sleep takes you.

You wake up with a pounding headache.

Blinking away sleep, you slowly sit up with a groan and rub at your eyes, wincing internally as you feel your eye makeup smear even further. You slowly look around, only to freeze as it suddenly dawns on you have no idea where you are.

You’re in what appears to be a bedroom, but it’s hard to tell since it’s so dark. The window coverings block out any form of light from outside, keeping you quite literally in the dark. You have no idea what time it is or (more concerning), who’s bedroom you’re in, until the events from before you passed out come flooding back to you.

Your ex. Blood everywhere. Dabi. Scars. Blue flames. Fangs.

You shudder at the last thought. Had you hallucinated the whole thing? It didn’t seem real. You think back to feeling the heat of the flames that had consumed your ex-boyfriend on your skin, and you rub at your arms involuntarily.

No, they had definitely been real. Which means everything else was real too.

Currently, you were certain of two things:

One: your shitty ex was dead. Drained of his blood before being incinerated to a crisp before your very eyes.

Two: Dabi wasn’t human.

Before you can sink too far into your thoughts, you’re suddenly aware of a prickling sensation dancing along your skin. You know the feeling all too well, and as groggy as you might feel in the moment, you’re painfully aware someone’s watching you.

You’re not alone.

A slight shuffling noise from the far corner of the room catches your attention. You slowly turn in the direction of the sound with baited breath, only to see an abnormal looking shadow faintly outlined in the surrounding darkness of the room.

You already know who it is without him having to say anything.

“Dabi?” you call out to him timidly. A deep sigh answers you.

“Good, you’re awake. You’ve been out for a while.” He rasps quietly.

“Where am I?” you ask, squinting at his outline. The more you try to make him out, the more he seems to try and blend into the pitch of the room.

“My room. Back at the house. I drove us back here after you passed out.” You hear him kiss the back of his teeth. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sleep for so long.”

“Wait, how long have I been out?” you question, as you feel around your surroundings, only to realize that he’s put you on his bed.

“About an hour. Dawn’s coming soon. I couldn’t leave you alone after you saw all… that.”

He doesn’t need to clarify what he means.

You both laps into an uncomfortable silence, before you finally gather up the courage to ask him the question that’s plagued you since he took you.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Silence answers you, and you feel yourself start to shake as every horrible scenario you can think of races through your head. Almost as if he senses the what you’re thinking about, you hear Dabi take a hesitant step forward, only to catch himself at the last second.

“…No.” he finally admits. “No, I’m not going to kill you.”

“Then why did you bring me here?” you sniff, as you try to control the tears you feel pricking at the corners of your lash line. “Why do any of this. What are you? Who are you?”

He doesn’t answer you. You squint into the abys of the room where you know he is, and you can faintly see his deep blue eyes gazing back at you, looking like twin flames in the gloom. You swallow hard and try a different approach.

“It’s too dark in here… can I have some light?”

Dabi sighs, but you hear him snap his fingers, and suddenly a candle you didn’t know was nearby, bursts into blue flames. The wicks hiss and sizzle before settling, casting an eerie blue glow around the room, illuminating it slightly. You glance to the corner where you know Dabi is, and you can see him a little better, though he seems to be trying to keep himself out of the light as much as possible.

You frown slightly. “Come here.” You tell him quietly, patting the space beside you on the bed. You know you’re tempting fate, but you believe him when you say he won’t hurt you. He had multiple chances to kill you, and yet; you’re still here.

You hear Dabi snort. “I don’t think you want that.”

You shake your head. “I do. C’mere. We need to talk.”

Dabi falls silent, but you see him turn towards you, and slowly makes his way over to you. The flickering blue light the candle provides casts twisted shadows over his lean frame as he stops just in front of you, and bends down so he’s eye level with you.

You find yourself face to face with a mess of painful looking burns covering the majority of his face, held together with countless surgical staples. The burns are everywhere; under his eyes, his neck, the entirety of his lower jaw, and even his ears. Now that you’re up close, you can see he even has some staples decorating his ears much like regular piercings, and he even has three studs dotting the right side of his nose. They suit him in a way, and you can’t help but find him handsome, even with half of his face completely ravaged by burns.

Dabi’s eyes glint savagely as you take him in slowly, his two-toned lips pulling back and exposing the deadly sharp fangs inside his maw. “Not pretty, is it?”

“What happened to you?” you whisper, hesitantly reaching up to touch his burnt lower jaw. Dabi seems to want to flinch away from your touch, but he forces himself to stay grounded as your fingertips gently brush his destroyed skin.

He laughs breathlessly and rakes a burnt hand aggressively through his now very white hair. “It’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He agrees, pulling away from your gentle hands reluctantly. He trudges over to a small loveseat pushed up against the wall opposite to his bed and sits down on it, shrugging off his torn duster, before putting his head in his hands with a sigh, giving you a painful view of the long wine-coloured burns tracking down his arms and ending at his knuckles.

You try not to focus at the dried blood that’s still decorating his shirt and hands.

After a moment he props his head up on his hands, fixing you with his intense gaze, but still doesn’t say anything. You realize he’s waiting for you; but now you’re at a loss for words. The agitated vampire across the room from you sighs, and you can see the veins in his neck become more prominent as he forces himself to try and relax.

“I know you have questions, so ask.”

“So, you’re really a—” you cut yourself off and swallow thickly. Even though you know what he is without him saying it, you still can’t quiet bring yourself to say it out loud. He leans forward, smiling meanly as he rests his forearms on his knees, eyeing you with his burning stare of his, that suddenly seems so cold.

“Go on, you can say it.” He prompts you, finally getting you to unfreeze.

“—A vampire.” You finish lamely. He nods, leaning back and draping both arms over the back of the loveseat.

“You got it sweetheart.”

“But how?” you prod, finally finding your voice. “I thought they were myth?”

“So did I, until one bit me.” Dabi snickers unkindly across from you, before quieting down, allowing you to ask your next question.

“How did you become one?”

“I died.” Dabi tells you flatly, avoiding your gaze for the first time since he brought you here. His nose scrunches up after he says it.

“Well, I almost did. Technically I was walking the line between life and death when the old fucker found me.”

He sighs and runs a blood-stained hand through his spiky white mane, leaving faint russet streaks behind. You force yourself to maintain eye contact with him as he speaks again.

“When I was alive, my name was Touya Todoroki.” He admits softly, giving you his real name for the first time since you met him.  “I was taking a walk in the woods near my family home when a forest fire broke out, burning everything. I got trapped in the blaze and I ended up with these.” He gestures to the dark patches of gnarled skin covering the majority of his visible skin.

“I’m not sure how I managed to survive, and I don’t know how long I was left there for; but it was the vampire who ended up turning me, who found me in the aftermath. I was in bad shape and probably would’ve died if he hadn’t given me his blood, turning me into this.”

He says it so scathingly. You know he’s frustrated without him having to tell you. Still… the horrific burns that mar his skin tell you a story of unspeakable agony. There’s no way a normal person would’ve been able to survive what he went through without help. His help just happened to have come from an unexpected source.

“He saved you.” You murmur quietly, causing Dabi… Touya… whatever his name was, to snort bitterly.

“He didn’t fucking ask, he just did, consequences be damned. Believe me, there was plenty of days at the beginning where I wish he hadn’t and just let me die.”

His bluntness causes a deep ache to bloom in your chest as you take in the vast amount of damage covering his body. You can only imagine how much worse the burns had been when he’d first been turned, on top of dealing with becoming what he is now. Before you can say anything, Dabi continues on, still refusing to look at you directly.

“After he turned me; my sire brought me back with him to recover. I ended up staying with him for a few years while I was figuring out my new body before I eventually left. Found my way here a while ago and never ended up leaving. Been here ever since.” He looks at you pointedly. “Don’t ask me how old I am. I stopped keeping track a while ago.”

Normally you’d be content to leave it there (honestly, now that he’s said it, you’re not sure if you want to know exactly how old he is anyways), but he has a car, which means he must have a license of some kind, which then begs the question how he was able to get one in the first place.

“Wait, so if you’re a vampire and you’re… older than you look, how have you been able to get a drivers license, or any I.D. for that matter?” Dabi snorts.

“Remember how Compress works as an entertainer?”

“Yeah…?”

“Turns out he’s really good at forgery too.”

“Oh.” You furrow your brows at his explanation.

“So… Compress knows about your… condition?” Dabi smirks at your hesitance.

“Oh yeah. Fully aware.”

“Is he… I mean… is everyone in the house a—”

“We’ll put it this way doll: nobody in this house has a heartbeat except for you.”

Well, this just kept getting better and better. Not only was your crush and his friend’s part of the undead; they were also committing fraud. You definitely knew how to pick them.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t be as surprised as you are upon hearing the rest of Dabi’s roommates are also vampires. All of them operated at night, and they definitely had quirks that set them apart from other people. Not to mention it would also explain the feeling of unease you always experienced around them. You’re more shocked at how many there are, which brings you to your next question:

“So, your sire—” you look at him questionably, waiting for him to explain. Thankfully, he provides you with an answer.

“—is a term referring to the one who turns you, yeah. Mine happened to be a particularly old bastard. Strong as hell, but old as time. He had a lot of influence over my kind back in the day. Pretty sure he died some years back. No idea who killed him, but I’d thank them if I knew.” He pauses before laughing lightly.

“Come to think of it; Shigaraki and I share the same sire, but he stayed with him way longer than I did. I left as soon as I could.”

Well, that was interesting news. “Why?”

“He played favourites.”  The snowy-haired vampire grins at you from across the way, but there’s no warmth behind his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure he turned me first, but I was already gone by the time Shigaraki came into the picture. We knew of each other, but our paths never crossed. He sought me out a year or two before our sire bit the dust, and I’ve been stuck with him ever since. As for the others…” he waves his hand dismissively. “Hell if I know. They just sort of showed up one day, one after the other. I don’t know how they found us, s’not like I was broadcasting we were here, but they still came regardless, and then they never left.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened to your sire.” You tell him. “It must be hard, loosing your mentor like that.” To your surprise Dabi only laughs, waving off your concerns.

“Don’t be. In fact, I’m not. I’m glad he’s gone. Shigaraki was more torn up about it then I ever was, but even he got over it. There’s a lot of perks that come along with your sire dying. Powerful perks.” He leans forward, pointing to the blue flames chewing away at the candle wicks.

“When it comes to vampire hierarchy, the most powerful vampires are the older ones who create the majority of newer vampires. The vampires they turn are basically their pawns – never to get any stronger – unless, their creator dies. Then they can inherit some of their former sire’s abilities through succession.”

He grins darkly at the confused expression you know you must be wearing on your face, because he elaborates before you can ask. He taps the marred skin of his lower jaw.

“If you haven’t noticed, I can shift between my real face, and the one you’re used to seeing; minus the burns. I didn’t used to be able to do that. Do you know how fucking difficult it is to go out in public when your face looks like this? Even at night, all people do is stare. It’s fucking annoying.” He shakes his head, allowing the dim candle light to reflect off his pale hair, giving it a blue tinge. “There’s a bunch of other things I can do now, but this is the most useful.”

“Like the flames?” You ask. Surprisingly, Dabi shakes his head.

“No, that I’ve always been able to do since I turned. My own special ability if you will. Normally you get one when you become a vampire. Shigaraki can decay shit; Toga can transform herself into a different person if she’s drank their blood; Twice can create multiple copies of himself; you get the picture. there’re some weird ones out there. Mine’s a sick fucking joke, considering it’s what killed me in the first place, but it’s powerful, so I can’t complain too much.”

“Oh.” You mumble, still trying to wrap your head around what he’s telling you, but you know you’re failing miserably. You’re not worried about him killing you, but you still don’t understand why he’s telling you all this.

“So… you don’t want to kill me.” You clarify gently. Dabi only shakes his head.

“No. Wouldn’t have bothered tell you all that if I did.” He confirms softly.

“Then what do you want with me?” you ask him again. Dabi sighs.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that I like you princess.” He tells you with the faintest hint of a smirk, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. “—and I know you like me too.” He adds after a pause.

Your mouth twitches and you nod slowly before looking away. “I do, it’s just... this is a lot to take in.”

A thought occurs to you suddenly, an awful thought. One that you wish you didn’t think of, but now that you have, you have to ask.

“All those people… the missing ones from the boardwalk… that was you, wasn’t it?”

His silence is telling.

“Oh my god Dabi…” you whisper, running a hand through your hair as you let out a breathless laugh. “There’s so many people… how long have you been doing this for?”

“To be fair, not all of them were me.” He corrects you, but his answer lacks any of his usual fire. “There are five other vampires here. I can’t drain over a hundred people by myself. Besides, I don’t need much to survive. I can go two or three weeks without feeding, but the longer I go without blood, the worse the thirst is.”

“Over a hundred?” you sputter. You think back to all the faces you’d seen posted on the bulletin board. Some postings had been quite old while others had been days old, and there had probably been more before them – many more.

“Like I said; we’ve been here a long time. We never get old, and we basically never die… but we have to feed. That’s the trade off.” Dabi tells you solemnly.

“We normally try to go for people who won’t be missed; drunks, the occasional asshole who pisses us off… and some piece of shit abusers.” He growls ominously, and you know that he’s referring to your ex without him having to say it.

“… But some people just end up coming across us at the wrong place at the wrong time.” He admits after a moment. “We try to be selective about who we feed off of, but if we’re starving, we have to feed, otherwise we would go feral.”

“Is that why you brought me here?” you hate that you have to ask him, but you need to know. “To feed off of?”

“Hell no.” Dabi reaffirms. “Of course not. Your blood smells incredible, and I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t thought about drinking from you...” He bites his burnt lower lip as you visibly cringe in front of him, before quickly adding: “But I’m not going to feed off you. I enjoy having you around too much. You’re different from the other humans I’m forced to be around. Besides, I’m not hungry anyways.”

You try not to read too much into that.

“So then what are your plans for me?” you finally ask, as you pull one of the blankets you were laying on over your legs. “Why bother telling me any of this? Do… do the others know I’m here?”

“They know. If you’re worried about them getting at you, they won’t. They’d have to go through me, and I’m not someone they want to fight anyways. I’d light their asses up if they got within ten feet of you. But they don’t want you harmed either, so don’t worry about them.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Dabi scoffs. “Shigaraki isn’t happy that I brought you back here, but he’s a miserable bastard on a good day. I couldn’t very well leave you back at your place anyways.”

“So then what happens now?” you ask quietly. “I don’t think things can go back to the way they were before.”

Dabi shakes his head; his ivory spikes sway sightly at the motion. “No. They can’t. I figured if I brought you back here and tried to explain what was going on, you’d understand at least a little. I wouldn’t have bothered saving you from that piece of shit if I didn’t somewhat care for you, you know.” 

“I know.” You pause before averting your eyes, and mumbling bashfully; “Thank you for saving my life. I have no idea what he was going to do with me, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I was… so scared.” You admit as you drop your gaze to your hands.

You ex had never acted like that before in the past – even when things were at an all-time low between you, he’d never physically assaulted you. The look he’d had in his eyes could’ve fooled you into thinking he was possessed by a demon. You don’t want to think about what would’ve happened had Dabi not intervened.

At your silence, Dabi stands from his spot and slowly makes his way over to you, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you wanted, but you let him approach. He cautiously kneels on the bed in front of you, and slowly takes your hands in his large, scarred ones.

“Look;” he tells you softly, but firmly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I like you. There’s something about you I find irresistible – and it’s got nothing to do with how I find the smell of your blood intoxicating either. I want you to stay… with me, that is.”

You feel yourself soften at his admission and he groans in the back of his throat, squeezing your hands. “Look. I’m not good at this shit. I’ve been around a long time and I’ve never been good at it – never needed to be – but ever since I met you, I’ve wanted to keep you all to myself.” He bites out a laugh at his admission.

“It’s selfish of me to say that; especially considering everything that happened with your ex – but you make me want to be.” He licks his lips before quietly admitting;

“I may be a monster, but I certainly won’t treat you like one.”

You mull over his words for a moment. His eyes convey nothing but sincerity, and you find yourself believing what he’s saying to you. You squeeze his hands back.

“I feel the same way about you.” You admit, watching as a variety of emotions flicker through his eyes. Shock. Surprise. Acceptance, and something else you couldn’t quite place—

“Can I kiss you? He suddenly blurts out. You blink, realizing he’d gradually gotten closer to you, invading your space and crowding you in. If it’d had been anyone else, you’d be uncomfortable with how close they were to you; but it’s Dabi, and even with the knowledge of what he was, you don’t feel anything but calm.

Odd, considering you’d watched him murder a man right in front of you not too long ago – but even knowing that, you know he won’t hurt you.

You nod, your eyes slipping closed, and he leans in and presses his two-toned lips to your own. The texture of his lips is unlike anything you’ve ever felt; his upper lip is soft while his bottom lip is rough and chapped from the burns, but the contrast is nice, and you feel yourself sigh into the kiss, giving him further access to your mouth. The scarred man takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss, as you feel his hands leave your own to cradle either side of your face. You realize how big his hands are when you feel his fingers splay out across your lower jaw and sweep over the pulse point in your neck, keeping you tethered to him as you fist your hands in his shirt.

You only pull back when air becomes too much of a necessity, but not before you boldly run your tongue over the too-sharp teeth hidden in his mouth, causing Dabi to laugh slightly as he watches you regain your breath. His hands never leave the sides of your face, as you reach up to cover the backs of his stapled covered hands with your smaller ones.

“You’re playing a dangerous game sweetheart.” he chuckles, slowly rubbing circles onto your face with his fingertips. “Keep doing that, and I really won’t be able to control myself around you.”

His statement makes you blush and you squeeze his hands. “Dabi I—"

“Touya.”

“What—?”

“Touya. My real name. It’s Touya.” He tells you breathlessly. “You asked me when we first met what my real name was. It’s Touya. Just call me Touya.”

“Touya.” You test his real name out gently, and a pleased rumble escapes the back of his throat.

“Fuck, it sounds good coming from you.” He tells you, eyes half-lidded. “Really good.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as he closes the gap between you again, pressing his lips to your own, only this time, he’s bolder and allows his hands to wander down your body until they settle on your hips, hot as a brand.

“Shit.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck. Touya chuckles against your lips before tilting his head so his head his mouth is right next to your ear.

“If you want to keep going, just know I’m not going to stop.” He rasps as he squeezes your hips. “I won’t force you, but if you don’t want to then you have to tell me now—”

You cut him off by turning your head and pressing your lips to his again, prompting him to pull you closer until you’re practically straddling his lap.

“Fuck.” He snarls as he shifts and pins you down on his bed. “Here I was trying to be nice. Trying to be good for you, but you had to go and rile me up—”

“Touya.” You whimper as you feel something hard pressing into your inner thigh. “Touya please. Don’t tease.”

“Fuck sweetheart, I know. Don’t worry I’m going to take care of you.” He hisses as he paws at your shirt. “Fucking—take this shit off. I want to see you.”

He helps strip you out of your clothes in record time, and suddenly you find yourself bare before him. You move to cover your exposed breasts but Touya swiftly pins your hands. He doesn’t bother to try and hide his unapologetic gaze as he takes in the sight of your naked body on his bed.

He looks at you as if you’re a work of art, you realize, and he seems to be completely lost in you. You call out to him gently, snapping him out of whatever trance he’s fallen under.

“I can’t believe you’re letting someone like me do this to someone like you.” He admits. “Even after I told you what I am. After you’ve seen what I can do. What I’ve done.” He shakes his head, but his eyes light up as a wicked smirk overtakes his features, allowing his fangs to peak out from under his lip.

“Think you might be as fucked up as me, pretty girl. No woman in their right mind would let a monster like me fuck them after watching me kill their shitbag ex. You’re a sick little thing, aren’t you?” he teases you, but you only shake your head.

“You’re not a monster.” You tell him sincerely. “I don’t think you are.”

Touya only smiles down at you as he touches his forehead to yours. “Think you might be the only person in the world who thinks that sweetheart, but thank you.”

You fist your hand in his bloodied shirt. “Take this off.” You tell him, and for the first time, he hesitates slightly.

“It’s not pretty underneath.” He warns you. “The burns go all the way down.”

You help him out of his shirt in response.

He’s not wrong: his torso is a mosaic of dark purple burns and staples crossing over his shoulders, stomach and back. His legs aren’t much better once you shimmy his pants down his legs, but you couldn’t care less once you see his cock.

It’s beautiful and pale like the rest of his unmarred skin, it’s a good length, and decently thick. The tip is flushed red and you can’t help but swallow in anticipation as he kneels between your legs again. Touya grins as he hovers over you.

“I can hear your heart about to burst out of your chest princess. You might wanna calm down; don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Shut up.” You mumble sheepishly, prompting him to laugh. “It’s been a long time since I’ve—well…”

Touya chuckles at your hesitance. “Me too.” He admits, and for some reason, it makes you feel better. Touya’s eyes rake down your exposed form, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drags his eyes up to your neck. “You smell so good.”

“Do you want to?” you ask breathlessly, turning your head slightly to the side. “I could let you—”

“No, not yet.” Touya murmurs, bending down to kiss you. “Let me try something.”

You don’t get the chance to ask him what he means before he’s bent down between your legs, and licking a long stripe through the middle of your pussy with the flat of his tongue.

You let out a load moan and throw your head back as he begins to lap at your pussy like a man starved, his large hands hold your thighs open as he licks at your center. You whimper and moan as he eats you out with vigor – your cries only increasing in volume as he introduces his fingers to where you need him most.

He starts with one pushing deep into your core, but it isn’t long before he’s adding a second digit, scissoring you open as he eats you out like he’s biting into a ripe fruit, and you feel divine.

It’s not long before you feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you close your eyes as you prepare to fall – only for your eyes to suddenly snap open as you feel something sharp digging into your inner thigh. You bolt up with a gasp only to see your vampire’s fangs buried in the meat of your thigh as he continues to pump his long fingers in and out of you.

Your blood dribbles down his chin as he continues to suck on you – moaning around your leg – and some sick part of your brain thinks it’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen. You reach down and fist your hand in his hair, tugging on it slightly and watch his eyes close as he groans something that sounds suspiciously like “harder.”

His fingers brush up against your sweet spot when you tug on the blood-streaked strands again, and you buck up into his hand, causing him to stroke the spot again and again has he drinks your blood. You’re getting light-headed and you can’t tell if it’s from your impending orgasm or the blood loss, before Touya pulls away from your leg, and twists his fingers just right, causing you to fall over the edge with a loud gasp as you feel yourself come undone.

“Fuck me.” You hear Touya snarl, and suddenly he’s looming over you again, caging you in with both his arms on either side of you, mouth dripping red with your blood. He grins down at you sadistically, elongated fangs streaked red with your blood. “That’s so fucking hot.”

You only moan in response as you feel for the puncture wounds he’s left in your thigh, but he swats your hand away as he lines himself in with your entrance. He pins both of your hands above your head with his free hand, and swoops down to press a heated kiss to your neck before slamming himself home – filling you up in one fluid motion.

You feel your back arch off the bed, and your mouth drops open in a silent ‘o’ as you struggle to adjust to his size. Above you, Touya hisses, as he struggles to keep himself in check.

“I can feel you squeezing down on me.” He pants. “You keep doing that, I’m not going to last long.” He warns you, but you shake your head.

“Don’t care. I just—I just want to feel you Touy—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before he’s moving within you. His movements are deep and deliberate, leaving your breathless as he snaps his hips against yours at a brutal pace. He’s relentless, almost as if he’s trying to make a home for himself in your depths. You notice that his pupils are dilating and shrinking rapidly as he struggles to hold himself back break completely breaking you.

“Fuuuck.” The white-haired vampire groans as he slides his hand down to your hip, holding you in place as he pounds into your gummy walls. “You’re perfect. I knew you would be. I wanted you. I wanted you from the moment I smelled your blood. I’m glad I didn’t—” he cuts his ramblings off, and buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as you moan his name.

You feel his fangs ghosting along your neck, and it brings you back to reality. You weakly tap at his hand holding both of yours prisoner with your fingers, and he quickly releases you. You opt to wrap your arms around his burnt neck – being mindful of the staples holding his skin together – trying to keep him as close as possible, as his other hand finds your free hip, and grips you hard enough that you know you’ll have handshape bruises by the time you’re done.

But that doesn’t matter, not when he’s trying his damnedest to rearrange your insides.

“I’m close.” You murmur in his burnt ear, and he grunts in acknowledgment.

“Me too.” He rumbles, pressing his warm body to yours. “Need you to come for me doll. Need to feel it—” he sneakily reaches down to rub at your clit, and that does you in. 

You come with a choked scream and he follows you with an almost feral snarl. You feel his cock twitch and are rewarded by the warm stream of his dead seed deep within you. It’s too much stimulation, and you try to move away, but he follows you, holding you down with his body weight. You feel the press of his fangs like a whisper against your neck, but he doesn’t bite down, much to your surprise.

You stay glued together for what feels like an eternity, only for him to pull out of your body with a huff and flop down next to you on his bed. He doesn’t go far though, and opts to pull you close to his scar-ridden body so you’re practically laying on top of his chest; not that you mind though.

It’s funny, now that you’re so close to him – it’s only now that you realize he doesn’t have a heartbeat.

It should be concerning. It should have you running for the hills. You should be panicking at the knowledge of the literal undead roaming around, draining unsuspecting victims of their life blood – and while you’re still not sure what to think of the last part – you also know the vampire next to you wouldn’t hurt you. He’s protected you in his own gory way, and while you know you probably shouldn’t; you feel safe around him.

You trace the seams of his scars, and feel him hum contentedly in the back of his throat as he shifts you slightly against him. Peering at the dark window coverings, you can see the faint traces of dawn light trying to break through. Touya follows your gaze through heavily lidded eyes.

“Guess you’re staying here doll; I’m not going out in that. I’ll take you home later.”

“What, so you can make me do the walk of shame in front of your roommates?” you ask him, causing him to laugh.

“They won’t say anything. Not if they don’t want to get turned to ash.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and flashes his fangs at you, glinting wickedly in the low candle-light. You tap them hesitantly.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Bite me. You could’ve.”

“Your leg says otherwise sweetheart.”

“Not that.” You brush him off. “I mean my neck. I know you wanted to. I could feel you.”

Touya exhales loudly through his pierced nose. “I did.” He admits. “The problem is, if I did, I probably wouldn’t stop.”

“Ah.”

You lapse into silence for a moment more, before you go back to tracing seams of his broken skin. “Can you turn people? Into what you are?”

He only nods, closing his eyes gently. “I can.” He confirms. “Never done it before though. Never had the need or want to.”

You feel your heart speed up in your chest, and you know he must be able to hear it as you force yourself to ask; “What would you do, if I asked you to turn me one day?” Touya only chuckles.  

“I’d turn you into my own personal thrall. Keep you by my side.”

“Oh, so like some sort of slave?” you tease weakly, but Touya only shakes his head with a slight grimace.

“I was thinking more along the lines of a Dracula’s Bride sort of arrangement actually. I wouldn’t put you through the shit I went through when I first turned.”

The implication hangs heavy in the air between you, but he doesn’t make a move to take it back. You twist and prop yourself up on your elbow so you’re looking him dead in his eyes, only to see he’s deadly serious, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“You mean that?”

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” he tells you gruffly, placing one of his large hands on your head and pushing you back down to his chest. “Don’t ask me shit like that unless you’re actually serious though. It’s a one-way street. The change is permanent. You’re this forever.” He warns you.

He must see the hesitation in your eyes, because his voice softens, and the hand that’s currently holding your head down switches to lightly combing through your hair.

“Live your life for now sweetheart. My offer still stands: If you really want to toss your mortality out the window. I’ll be the one to take it from you. But for now, just think about it. You can give me your answer when you’re ready.”

“…and what if I decide I’m never ready?”

Touya chuckles. “Then you’ll have my undead ass as a boyfriend when you’re an old lady up until the day you die.”

“A boyfriend huh?” you tease, grinning up at him softly. He rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I just told you I’d make you my thrall, that’s all you’re getting from me pretty girl.”

“You basically said you’d make me your wife. Dracula’s bride, remember?”

Touya rolls his eyes, and you swear you see the faintest dusting of pink flash across the parts of his cheeks that aren’t brunt, but it’s gone as soon as it came, prompting you to giggle, and you both fall into a comfortable silence.

He squeezes you once after a heartbeat. “I’d take care of you, you know; if you wanted me to turn you. I’ll take care of you now, but I’ll look after you if and when you decide you want me to change you. You know my secret so you’re stuck with me now. It’s not like I can let you go. You don’t have a choice.”

You laugh in spite of yourself and snuggle closer to him. “I could think of worse things.”

“You say that now…”

“and I’ll mean it later.” You tell him as you reach up to stroke the burnt flesh of his jaw. “Really, I do.”

You feel Touya press a light kiss to the crown of your head, “Yeah I know.” He confirms, murmuring into your hair. “Now, sleep. I’ll take you back to your place once the sun has set. We’ll figure out what to say to your landlord about the scorch marks I left behind. Worse comes to worse, you can just move in here with me.”

You feel your eyelids droop at his words and you snuggle into his burnt flesh, trying your best not to apply any more added pressure to the sutures keeping him together, as you feel his arms settle at your waist, keeping you close to him.

You weren’t sure what the future held for you now, but you were sure that whatever it decided to throw your way, your vampire wouldn’t be far behind you.  

FIN

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend part 9 *final chapter* (4.9k words)

Summary: Final chapter! Valeria thinks of the past as you're released from custody. She wants the two of you to move on but she can't shake the feeling that there's still danger to be faced. Warnings: lesbian smut Note + tag list at the end Link to A03 Link to masterlist with all the parts

Valeria thought of the moment you met. Or rather, the moment she met you because you hadn’t noticed her.

It was many years ago when she was a soldier of the Mexican Army, when she was younger and lost. When she would wander the streets of Las Almas on her days off, unsure of what she was looking for. Back when her skin was tighter, her voice quieter, when she used to follow other people’s orders. It was another hot day when she got sent out of the headquarters to fetch some lunch for her squad – her most loathsome task. She hated how she’d run into other female soldiers her age during the lunch run and feel the burdened femaleness of the task. Hated having a male squad leader who found every chance to shove her in the kitchen by making her fetch something from one. She felt like an armed waitress. And worst of all, she hated the conversations that would happen when she was not there, when the team was finally ‘free’ to speak its mind without having to worry about offending someone. But she bit her tongue and said nothing. It was like a rite of passage for people like her. The go-to kitchen was one run by old Renata, an aged woman who ran a tiny thing in the corner that was able to produce an incredible amount of delicious food. Renata was a small, capable woman who sped around the place fulfilling everyone’s orders. There were never any complaints, and it was close enough to the headquarters that most soldiers used it as their prime takeout spot. She was open from noon till late and was favoured enough that Renata never had to worry about security because there were always soldiers there. Renata winked at Valeria as she approached the kitchen, which was already steaming with food. The restaurant was on the ground floor of a blue building; the restaurant dwelled on the ground floor and the upper floors were for residents. The outdoor part of the kitchen included a counter with stools and some outdoor fridges full of drinks and lollies. Large pans cooked steamy food at the front whilst a narrow, dark hallway led to an area in the back where the rest happened. The smell of spiced food and the loud sound of the fridge containing ice cold drinks were delightful to Valeria’s senses. She held a piece of paper in her hands.

“Valeria, my sweet. What can I get for you?” Renata asked with that warm, maternal glow that some old women had. It made a painful lump emerge in Valeria’s throat; she swallowed it down. Valeria slid the note to her. “Just the usual, Senora. Thank you.”

Renata glanced at the paper and smiled as Valeria took a seat on one of the stools by the counter. “I’ll add it to the tab,” said the woman and vanished to the other side of the kitchen. It was a hot day yet still busy, even with regular civilians eating or picking up food. Valeria’s mind wandered to things that were occupying her at the moment when she saw the flash of a hair ribbon flicker from the hallway. A shadowed figure moved around hurriedly, moving cartons of stuff per Renata’s instructions. The old woman emerged again with packaged food to give to someone. There was nothing interesting about a hair ribbon, plenty of girls wove them in their plaits. But for some reason, Valeria’s eye stayed fixated on the spot, waiting to see that colour flicker again.

“It’s my granddaughter,” said Renata whilst wrapping something in plastic. Valeria looked around only to realise that Renata was speaking to her. “You have family?” Valeria asked before she could stop herself. But Renata only laughed, the sound was like the jingle of bells caught in the wind.

“Oh yes, plenty. I just don’t like to share my business, but that one’s good. She’s helping out for a bit.” Renata bagged some drinks and held them out to Valeria.

The ribbon flickered again, the colour shone from the few specks of light that fell on the shadows. It was a soft purple colour and attached to a long length of hair. There was something in the way that it glided amongst the darkness of the hallway, how it followed the curve of your movements. It danced like a fallen flower petal and although Valeria was not particularly feminine, there was something that drew her to it. But before she could see more, she had her bag of food and had to return. Curious to see more, Valeria returned right before Renata closed up the place with the excuse that she came to cover the tab.

And that’s when she saw the rest of you. Your skin glistened with sweat underneath the lamp lights, Valeria saw you at work from afar before she approached. A girl with quick hands bobbing her head back and forth between pans, a fistful of paper orders leaking from her front pocket. Large, beautiful eyes that fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. You shone a polite smile at Valeria, acknowledging her as a customer whilst you finished serving someone. Valeria knew from that moment that you would be hers, pure intuition told her so. And so she enjoyed this moment where you were still complete strangers, because soon enough you would be more than that. There was something about the tense line of your mouth as you concentrated, the way it hid your lips that made Valeria want to reach in and remove what ailed you.

“Sorry, what can I get you?” You asked, your hands reaching for a plastic container, waiting for the name of a food. Instead, Valeria outstretched her hand.

“Valeria Garza. Sergeant.” It was something about the way Valeria’s way of speaking that made you look up and see her properly. She had that look soldiers had, that straight back and tone of authority, no matter what their actual rank was. You saw plenty of her people every day who just wanted a service and nothing more. But this one spoke to you. Something fluttered in your stomach when you shook Valeria’s hand. Her hand didn’t hold itself against yours for a few seconds the way that polite handshakes did. It fit your palm perfectly and as Valeria removed her hand, you felt the ends of her fingers caress the length of your palm as if hesitant to lose your touch.

“Y/N,” you said.

Valeria remembered this as she saw you changing your clothes right before your release. The ‘day’ of your release was actually a night as a matter of safety. It was thought best to release such a high-profile person as Valeria when the prison was closed for the night, to avoid the traffic of visitors. The two of you were the only ones in the room but you still covered parts of you whilst changing. Valeria looked at your hair wistfully. “Why don’t you wear ribbons anymore?” She asked.

You looked at her confused and shrugged. “I don’t know. One day I just stopped.” You continued changing. Many years had passed since you met; your body and your hair had changed. When you met, you were young enough to not have quite filled into your womanly features. Those last remnants of puppy fat that cling to women in their early 20s were gone, parts of you were plumper than they used to be, and your hair had changed too. But none of that changed how Valeria looked at you, that twinkle of adoration.

“Yes, but why?” Valeria sat there, staring.

“It’s like the last day you went to play outside. I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t realise it in the moment. But I just never did it again.” You saw how Valeria looked at you in that moment, her dark eyes taking in your body, a hunger. Her lips were pursed. “Is it because you used to do it for Diane?” Valeria saw your movements falter for a second. You scoffed lightly. “When did you remember her?” You mumbled to yourself and stood straight, brushing down your clothes. “Did you though?” Valeria asked. You folded the prison attire and left it in a box. “I told you, baby. I don’t know.” There was a nervous impatience creeping into your voice that Valeria didn’t like, but it was understandable. The closer you got to freedom, the harder it was to stay in there. Valeria knew her question was provocative and frankly unnecessary, but she couldn’t stop herself. She could sense a change in the wind, but Valeria could not yet understand what was happening “I miss them,” said Valeria softly, thinking of the ribbons. She had changed to her usual attire, a black turtleneck clinging to her upper body with her classic chain around her neck. Her work belt was waiting for her past the upcoming security check and she felt its absence on her waist like a phantom limb. Visions of the past had started haunting her recently, creeping up in her waking moments. She wasn’t usually this sentimental and spaced out, but something had changed recently – you could tell. She was becoming…not softer, but wistful of things that were no more. Her fuss about the ribbon was just the latest. She would randomly ask you about what happened to that old garment that you wore on your first date. Or what happened to that bracelet she got you on your first anniversary? And what about that dessert you stopped making?

“What do you think old Renata is up to now?” She asked and you just about lost it. You breathed carefully to calm yourself before turning to your wife, who was now rising from her seat. You caught her hands and placed them on your cheeks, and it snapped Valeria out of her trance.

“Val,” you said in no more than a whisper. “We’ve talked about this.” Your eyes held Valeria’s dark ones, silently pleading for her mercy. Valeria nodded and looked away.

You thought about this change in her behaviour as you left the facility. It was not lost on you that Valeria was getting older and had an atypical, queer life. The regular marks of life were lost to the two of you; you had no children, no ‘regular’ income with Valeria’s operation, and no holidays with family. The two of you were your own unit and were happy. But recent events had pulled the rug beneath Valeria’s feet, and you wondered if she was starting to question the point of all this. The heavy metal door of the entrance opened up to the darkness of the outside world. It was a cloudy night with no moonlight and no stars, but the fresh country air brushed your cheeks blissfully.

Security was tight, you made out the shapes of guards everywhere you looked and there was a cacophony from the barks of police dogs. Harsh white lights were set to guide you towards the helipad where Valeria’s helicopter rested. And there, amidst the harshness of the yard, was an unmarked vehicle and a woman leaning on it. Her eyes were set on the pair of you as you stepped out. Valeria tightened her hold on your hand.

“What is it now? She whispered to herself as you walked forward. More was visible of that woman as you got closer. She was a middle-aged white woman with a neat, prim appearance. Her hair was a pale colour, somewhere between blonde and white, kept in a neat bun. And her eyes were a piercing blue colour. In fact, she could’ve been older. Her eyes never left Valeria. This usually happened on the rare occasion that you were introduced to someone in Valeria’s presence – they spoke to both of you but really, they spoke to Valeria. Valeria let out a strange noise as she recognized the woman.

“Valeria and Y/N Garza,” she said and glanced at you momentarily. “Congratulations on your release. I wanted to personally apologise on behalf of Task Force 141 and Los Vaqueros for the terrible mishandling of your extraction.” Those pale, disconcerting eyes turned to you. They reminded you of a snake. “And I want to personally apologise to you, Y/N Garza, for your terrible treatment during custody. I want to assure you that the person responsible has-"

“Speaking to my wife is a privilege,” Valeria’s cold voice interjected loudly. “No one has it, and especially not you, Kate Laswell." The woman, Kate, pursed her lips together and nodded. She seemed like a powerful woman to you; the way she stood with perfect posture, the neatness of her appearance. And most of all, that shiny American badge handing off her heck. And yet she allowed herself to be scolded by Valeria. "I understand you’re upset, and you have every right to. I just wanted to affirm the terms of our agreement-" “If you want to communicate with me, you have my lawyer’s details. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a home to return to.” Valeria said and nodded her head towards the helicopter, which was now moving its fans rapidly. “Come on,” she mumbled to you. The two of you started walking around Kate, but that woman turned to you again. “I would have done the same for my wife,” said Kate. Valeria stopped and glanced back at Kate with disdain, it was a glance so full of disgust that it made you look away. “You’re nothing like me,” Valeria spat out.

Valeria turned and helped you up the helicopter, then entered herself. There was something about the desperate gesture of goodwill from another woman-lover that felt too precious to allow to disappear. This woman didn’t have to do this, but she still chose to be here, like a daffodil emerging of out of deep snow at the beginning of spring. Unexpected, but welcome. You turned to look at the woman one last time, but Valeria saw what was about to happen and slammed the door quickly before you could say anything. The helicopter lifted off the ground immediately. You turned to her sharply.

“I wanted to thank her,” you complained. Valeria said nothing as she put on her headpiece and began handling the helicopter’s navigation. You gazed out of the window as the world got smaller. Kate didn’t take her eyes off you until she became just another tiny thing on the ground. You wondered what all this was about and tried to release your curiosity. It was probably to do with whatever Valeria did to have you released, that terrible thing she wanted you to stay out of.

After what seemed like forever, you could see the familiar shape of your estate come into focus. You all but leapt out of the aircraft when it touched the grass of your home, which you noticed was trimmed. Valeria must’ve had the place cleaned up and maintained during your time in custody. You noticed Valeria’s frantic scrambling for anything that might have been mailed in, and soon enough the ‘business’ part of the estate was in full swing. Men ran around per Valeria’s loud orders, her shouts echoing down the many hallways. You tried not to feel hurt when she entered her study and locked the door behind her. You headed for your golden bathroom and filled the tub with hot, soapy water.

You immersed yourself inside and tried to clean yourself of all that happened. You washed off the cold looks from the man with the skull masked, scrubbed off Alejandro’s threats, and rinsed off the old skin of a body that dwelled in confinement. You then lathered your body with all the scented creams you could combine until you smelled like a flower nymph, you dressed your body in the silkiest garments you could find. Anything to return to the woman you were before Alejandro had leapt inside yours and Valeria’s bedroom.

You were almost asleep by the time Valeria returned. Her steps were so quiet that she startled you when she suddenly slipped inside the sheets, coming to spoon you from behind. She burrowed her face in the nook of your neck and inhaled deeply, you felt the softness of her skin on your back as she held you close. As she exhaled, you smelled the faint linger of nicotine in her breath and grumbled. “Just for tonight, baby. I’m sorry.” She said and gave small pecks to your jaw and then the back of your ears. “You smell so good,” she mumbled and tugged at your ears with her teeth. One of her hands roamed the length of your figure and you leaned back towards her body, feeling the soft and hard parts of her. The softness of her chest and tummy, the firmness of her upper arms, the strength of her legs as they snaked around yours and held you in place. You turned and shared a big, long kiss. You tasted the faint linger of smoky nicotine in her mouth mixed with the tangy sweetness of alcohol. She had celebrated your return home in her own way.

Valeria pulled back from you. “What if we left?” she asked, her lips almost touching yours. Her eyes were closed as she said this, and you nuzzled your face to hers. Suddenly, you felt how cold she was: she must’ve been smoking outside. It was something she did rarely because you hated the smell and you had always warned her about how it would yellow her teeth. It was a hard habit to break and although she was mostly clean, there were moments where she just needed a smoke.

You cupped the back of her head, the softness of her hair awakened something inside of you. A hunger, a warmth that glowed within you; you felt the same thing linger in Valeria’s body, down her legs and in her abdomen. The silence of the estate reminded you of your returned privacy. “I’d follow you anywhere,” you whispered and kissed her. Valeria moaned into the kiss, that delightful sound buzzed on your skin. She held your face with her hand, deepening the kiss until your bodies were desperately crashing into each other. Sloppy, wet kisses were interrupted by the shuffle of your bedsheets as you clawed at each other’s layers, begging to see and feel the other’s skin.

“You’re so cold, my love,” you whispered as Valeria pulled down your nightgown. Your breasts came into view and the sight elicited a soft noise from your wife. Valeria’s eyes darkened as she looked at them. She removed her final layer and tossed it across the room. “Come warm me up,” she said and pulled you on top of her. Your body fit onto hers and you enjoyed how similar yet different the two of you were. Two soft bodies pressing into each other; one cold, one warm. The tantalizing softness of your chests being brought together; the way she pressed you down onto her as she sought your warmth and softness, wanting to desperately feel your wetness onto her own. You kissed and allowed Valeria’s greedy tongue into your mouth, one of her hands kept travelling further down your back and she slowly inserted one of her fingers inside you. The kiss broke and you moaned weakly. Valeria moved her head higher to steal your lips again. Her finger stretched and curled, teasingly lingering close to your sensitive spot.

“That’s what you were thinking about. Right, princess?” Valeria asked and made you look at her, her finger exited and caressed your special spot on the outside, wetting your clit with your juices. “Yes,” you mewled, and she rewarded you with two fingers.

“You’re so warm,” Valeria whispered, and you kissed again. She slowed down and pumped weakly in and out of you, making you move your lower body desperately for more. You felt Valeria chuckle beneath you, she found it amusing when you moved yourself onto her hands; Valeria wanted to feel imperative to the path of your desire. She was the keeper of your pleasure, an instrument to your love making, your path to bliss. She urged you to keep going and just watched you dance to the song of your passion, watched as you moved to straddle her. The sight of your breasts bouncing up and down as you rose and lowered yourself onto her hand.

“Be loud for me, baby. I’ve missed it.” Valeria said as you bit your lip. Arousal made you bold and when Valeria moved her hand so it pumped into you, you spread your legs and moved frantically to your climax. Your cries of pleasure mixed with Valeria’s commands to keep going, to keep clenching onto her like the desperate, lovely thing that you were. To be good and open your legs more so she can see you come prettily, like you always did. You closed your eyes as the sensitive, hot spot within you erupted and the heat reverberated across your body. Valeria sighed satisfyingly as she pumped a bit more into you, making you jolt in your place as she sought the last scraps of your orgasm.

You looked down and found Valeria smiling to herself. “You’re glistening like a diamond, my love.” You huffed and breathed out from your slightly swollen lips, then lowered yourself onto her again. Valeria made a small noise as your ground your wetness all over hers, shivering as you rubbed onto her clit. Your hand reached into a drawer of your bedside table as you continued this movement until you found what you were looking for. “My love…” Valeria trailed off as she noticed this.

“You missed your favourite, no?” You said and brought her favourite toy in sight, a lengthy vibrator. You wanted her to have a truly special moment now that you were back home and safe to express the true potential of your eroticism. And there was one thing in particular that you felt she needed, something that was more than just the gratification of her senses: words of love. “Let me speak my love to you,” you said. Valeria’s eyes were dark with lust, and she flushed at the sight of the toy. But beneath that passion lay something vulnerable. Something that needed to be gently caressed. Valeria’s recent ramblings had concerned you and the way she mentioned your ex today was the nail in the coffin. Valeria, you felt, was feeling insecure. Intimacy is more than just sex, it is the tenderness of sweet words whispered between kisses and licks, it is found in the gentle touch of a lover who sees behind the desire within your eyes and speaks to the person in there who is desperate to unify with their partner. Who wants to reach true intimacy, to embed their soul unto yours. Sweet words were necessary with Valeria, but you couldn’t do that when using your tongue for other things. Valeria was quiet, she tugged at your lips with her teeth and opened her legs.

“You know how much I love you, Val.” You said whilst gazing into your eyes. Valeria nodded and you kissed, your hands positioned themselves close to Valeria’s core.

“I want to be with you forever,” you whispered and caressed the clean plastic onto Valeria’s wetness, you felt her sigh shakily.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” you pecked at her neck in between your words. Valeria’s little noises hummed out of her as you tugged at the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, the spot that made her squirm. “Y/N…” she whimpered your name pleadingly and the toy came to life. “I love you more than anything,” you said as you made love to her. The toy vibrated tantalizingly on her clit and rested there as you inserted a finger inside. Valeria moaned out your name and pleaded for kisses with her eyes, which you granted.

"Does my love feel good?” You asked her and she nodded whilst biting her lip. Valeria threw her head to the side with ecstasy. She cried out for more, which you delivered. You increased the toy’s setting and slowed down with your fingers so she could enjoy more of her pleasure. “You’re so beautiful,” you moaned and busied yourself with your wife’s throat, licking and kissing and biting it. Seeing Valeria like that turned you on and you lowered your core onto hers, feeling the second-hand vibrations bounce from Valeria’s skin onto yours. Valeria’s hands trailed down your back, making you shiver. The sounds of wet skin slapping, of moans and gasps filled your marital bedroom, the bedframe creaked as you made passionate love. “Come on, come on,” you mewled and pumped into her faster than before. You could tell she was close from her movements, her fingernails were digging into your skin almost painfully, but the discomfort got lost amidst the high of your sex. “Show me your love, Val. Come for me.” You took one of her nipples in your mouth and pinched it with your teeth and it sent Valeria to her climax. “I’m here, baby. I’m here,” she moaned as she started to erupt in orgasm. You saw a glimpse of insecurity flash her eyes as she wet the bed, but you drew out all of it with your fingers. “It’s natural baby, give all of it to me.” You said and she released it all.

"I’m so proud of you, baby. You haven’t done that in a while.” You said and kissed her forehead. Valeria huffed out and gave you a small smile, her cheeks were flushed with colour.

You cleaned each other in the bathroom with the shy smiles and looks of people who were happy but slightly embarrassed in hindsight. “It’s normal, my love,” you kept saying and washed off Valeria’s skin. The two of you lay in bed for a long time after that, not falling asleep but caressing each other’s skin in the darkness.

“You want to leave?” You asked and heard Valeria sigh next to you.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” She said finally. “He won’t leave us alone.” Fear tugged at your heart as you listened to her. “You think he’ll come after us again?” Valeria nodded next to you, she didn’t need to ask to know who you meant. “You saw how much he hates me, Y/N. And now he hates you. I know Alejandro well enough to know this: he will not stop. I don’t know how he’ll do it, but I know it.” You lay there in silence for a bit as you thought it out. Those people know where you live now – Alejandro’s team and the people he worked with. And who’s to say that the rest wouldn’t want revenge too. You remembered that masked man who removed you from the container, the one with the skull face. You remembered how his partner got hurt when you fled, maybe worse. What if he also wants revenge for what happened? You got him in trouble, didn’t you?” You asked her and felt Valeria turn to you sharply. You spoke quickly before she could jump to any conclusions. “I haven’t inferred anything more, I promise. And I won’t ask. But I can tell that much. You think he’ll want revenge for that?” Valeria shifted next to you and, for the first time ever, she let you to a part of her that was carefully guarded. The mastermind behind everything. “Yes.” You turned and softly pressed your forehead onto hers. The smell of soap on her skin mixed with her natural smell and as you inhaled it, you felt how badly you wanted the moment to last forever. “Let’s leave, Val.”

For the rest of the night, whispers of forgotten dreams and giggles over potential occupations turned your bedroom into a portal of the wildest parts of your imagination. What if you retired early by the seaside? What if you finally wrote that cooking book that you sometimes daydreamed about when setting the table? And what if Valeria became an art collector with the rest of her money? What if you vanished into thin air?

*

It was many months later when someone visited that estate again. A figure jumped over a wall in the middle of the night and shuffled around the bushes. Their eyes scanned the perimeter with the movements of a predator that sought its prey. That person slowly arose to their full height in disbelief: the place was entirely deserted. Only some scraps of light from lampposts illuminated whatever was left behind. The house was a shell of its former self, dark and devoid of people. Gnarly bushes of roses and overgrown weeds desecrated the once carefully maintained garden, they stretching out their green, thorny limbs to tear at the man’s uniform. Alejandro cursed loudly as he looked around, he called out to someone. And somewhere far away, two women danced in their warm kitchen, swinging their hips and laughing as their dinner cooked. In the living room, a fire was going in the fireplace, and they would later sit and sip their wine whilst watching a film. And then, they would go to bed. Because your life didn’t end when you were stolen from your wife. And her life didn’t end when she lost you. You would find each other over and over again just so you could dance like this. This moment was infinite. There was only one way things could have ended, and this was it. In Valeria’s arms, hearing your food bubble in the pot. Life didn’t have to be about money and blood and fear. It could be about dancing in the kitchen with your love late at night, seeing Valeria’s eyes twinkle beneath the light.

Note: Final chapter y'all we did it! Thank you so much for reading my story, I hope you liked the ending. This is the first fanfic I've ever finished omg. I got very attached to Valeria and Y/N's story so of course they needed a happy ending :) Writing this series has been so fun for me, thank you for all the comments and likes!

tag list: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit @00ops1e @lesvii @therapyneeds @lez-zuha @starre-eyes @7smexy7diva @hello-kitty-festival @konigmeu @cassiecasluciluce @gay-ass-country-boy @starwars-theclonewhore @bi-witch-bxtch @somnoslvt @ashthepillow @b3ns0ne  @idiotwrites @danart501 @deakyspuff @mistresssiri @angethehimbosimp @@sae1kie @00ops1e @yaebaal @p3arlier @xreals @coffeeandtealol

[smolvenger]

The King of Asgard (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: As the wife of Prince Loki of Asgard, you suddenly discover that Odin and Thor are gone. You are made queen and your dear husband is king. But a king needs an heir...

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: SMUT Y'ALL!!! 18+ Breeding Kink and Vanilla P in V sex and dirty talk. Some angst in the beginning but lots of hurt/comfort regarding his discovery about being a Frost Giant. Some married fluff. I use the canon events in Thor 1 but stretch out the timeline because it's my fic and I can do what I want. References to fairy tales because I'm a slut for literary references.

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Since seeing Thor 1 in its completion this has been in my head. I don't usually write for the big man Loki himself too often- but it's a treat to do so! Maybe I will do more of this stuff if I get more ideas! REBLOGS, COMMENTS, DMS, AND ASKS ABOUT MY WORK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED! Also, I don't know if Frigga is also Freya the goddess of love and sex in this universe when I wrote this but her character is clearly more FRIGGA than Freya...so yeah...mea culpa

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @littlespaceyelf @superficialdomina (since all the way back you asked to be tagged! Ta da! Here it is!!)

You had many regrets in your life. But marrying Prince Loki was not one of them.  When he asked you, you threw your arms around him and kissed him repeating one word- “Yes!”

You never regretted the day you wore a jeweled veil and walked down that aisle. You never regretted vowing before all the gods that you were his and he was yours. You never regretted becoming Princess of Asgard. Not if it meant the love of your life could become your husband.

Some whispered that your choice was unusual. That it was the wrong prince. That you should have married Thor. After all, it seemed obvious he was going to be the heir. But things did not happen in your heart the way they did. Thor was jovial and friendly to you. But before your betrothal, he liked you as a sister. No more, no less. Even if Odin commanded it, Thor would object to the match. If Thor learned to reign in his arrogance someday, you thought, he would make a fine lover to some lucky person!

Other than being the most beautiful man you had ever beheld, Loki was intelligent. Full of elegance as well as guile. Well-read, polite, patient, and charming, but could hold his own in any battle. It seemed you were one of the few people who recognized that. That was one of many reasons why he loved you.

You both attended feasts side by side. He would flirt with you even though you were still about a year into marriage.

“Why, it is too bad that such loveliness is sitting by herself tonight! May I have the seat next to her?” Loki would croon as he sat in the chair next to you.

 You danced every dance together at balls. You especially loved spending free hours exploring the Asgardian library together. Reading works from all Nine Realms. Sometimes until you both fell asleep by the fireplace. Not to mention his finesse in the bedroom.

Loki confessed of his wedding day nerves to you in private. He feared…displeasing you on your wedding night. But your mutual passion and reverence for each other won over all else. Every time you coupled, you brought each other to Valhalla and back again. You learned about each other’s bodies like studying maps. Each minute of lovemaking was both exploration and worship of each other.

Lately, the two of you were careful. You had your own special tea to drink before or after it happened. At most, he would spill his seed somewhere that wasn’t between your legs. You knew so much was happening. Becoming a parent would put more stress on both of you. Especially considering Odin was about to name his heir.

 Though you both did hope someday to have a child. You knew Loki would be a wonderful father and you wanted to be a mother. You wanted a family. You wanted to have a sweet baby (or two) of your own to cuddle and kiss. To hear it laugh when you tickled it. To welcome their first steps with open arms. To watch it grow. To leave your own mark- a person who was both Loki and you.

Now wasn’t the right time, both of you knew it. When you would sigh about it, he would hug you.

“We will wait, my love…time is our friend…” he’d assure you.

 There were worse things in life. And you might as well enjoy what you had now before it was too late. You were lucky to have him. Many couples lived happy, long lives together without children. You were fortunate to have a man who you could confide anything to. And he in turn confided all his worries to you.

The ceremony arrived. And it was not Loki who was named heir as he hoped. It was Thor.

As you stood next to Loki, you felt him stiffen. Thor smiled and held up Mjonir as the kingdom cheered for him. Looking at your husband, you took his hand. You heard him take in a deep sigh through his nose.

“I know you wanted it…I’m so sorry…” you whispered to him, rubbing a thumb over his palm.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

 One evening when you walked about the garden. The sun was setting and while there was some light, you wanted to admire the roses Frigga grew. Dressed in your golden dress, you knelt to sniff a few red ones. Admiring her work and the peace of the place. You jumped when a guard ran over to you.

“The Prince Loki requests your presence immediately in the castle vaults,” he reported.

Picking up your skirts, you hurried there.

“Loki, where are you? Are you hurt?” you asked as you entered.

He was standing on the steps before the Tesseract’s section. He looked up at the sound of your voice. There were tears in his eyes.

“I…I just spoke with father…” he said.

“What did he say this time?” you asked.

He took a step towards you. More tears fell down his cheeks.

“Y/N…I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have married you, shouldn’t have made you my prisoner…” he said.

Pain curled up in your chest at the words. Their grip tightened your throat and your eyes watered as well as his.

“Prisoner!?! What are you talking about, Loki? You cannot believe every word Odin says! I will talk to him myself right away! How dare he say such cruel things to you! You do deserve me! You do!” you cried.

You reached over to grab his hands and he jerked them back.

“No Asgardian maiden deserves to be sold and made wife to a Frost Giant!” He blurted.

You paused.

“Frost Giant?” you repeated.

All your life you heard whispers of the land of the Frost Giants, or Jotenheim. And they were always violent tales of terror. The large, ice creatures were longtime enemies of your kingdom. It was typical for Thor to boast about how much he would slay if given the chance.

“Stay here…and watch…” Loki instructed.

He put his hand on the Tesseract. Upon contact, his skin turned blue and his eyes red. A frost giant if you ever saw one.

Your eyes widened and you gasped in response, a hand flew over your mouth. Shock made your body lock in place. But you did not turn your eyes from him.

“Oh, Loki!” you cried.

You did not flee. No, you would not. Instead, you ran up and embraced him. He felt cold to the touch. As his hands released the Tesseract you felt him warm up in your arms as his skin turned back to ivory. They curled around your back, and he buried himself in your touch. You felt him shaking. Despite your own surprise, you would not abandon him. Never.

“It’s alright…it’s alright, I’m right here…this is a lot, I know…” you consoled as he cried.

He explained to you that years ago, Odin found an abandoned Frost Giant baby in Jotenheim. He took in the infant to be raised as one of his own. But never telling that young prince the truth about his parentage. Not until an accidental discovery. In a recent battle a Frost Gant touched your husband’s arm, changing your prince’s skin to blue beneath his grip. And blue skin could not lie.

“Do you know what I am, Y/N? I am a monster! That’s who you are married to! A monster!” Loki mourned.

You glanced at the door, then back to him. An idea from a recent library read growing in your head.

“Are you familiar with Midgard Fairy Tales? The ones for children?” you asked.

“No,” he answered.

“You don’t?” you asked.

“Midgard never interested me before…”

Taking him by the hand, you led him back to the library. You found a collection of Midgard Fairy Tales left on your favorite chair. You brought it to him and opened it up, flipping the pages. You then pointed to one story. The first page was illustrated with a ship on the ocean, then a rose, and a grand castle.

“You should read this one right here. It was written years ago by a lady. It is a Midgard Fairy Story called La Belle et La Bete or Beauty and The Beast…” you explained.

Loki took the book. He then flipped the page to see a picture of the eponymous beast.

“I know enough of fairy tales. They’re all the same. There’s some giant or creature who’s always the villain. Kidnapping unwilling maidens and hoarding gold. That is until a prince skewers them. Then there’s great celebration over the killing,” he dismissed.

You placed a hand on the page before he could close it.

“You’re right about one thing. There is a beast in this one…” you continued.

“Oh, and he’s there to do those things so babes will grow up learning to hate me,” Loki complained.

“No! Not in this one he’s not!” you objected.

You turned the page. It showed the Beast smiling with a lady in a rose garden.

“Yes, he is a beast. But do you know what he also is? He is the prince in the story! He might look frightening to some, but beneath it, he is kind and generous! He falls in love and marries a woman who sees that in the end! She doesn’t focus on what makes him monstrous and different- she accepts who he is!”

You set the book down and cupped his face.

 “Because she loves him!”

His jaw dropped, speaking nothing. He leaned into your hand.

“A Frost Giant? Yes. I will learn to adjust to the blue skin…but you are my husband. I could not ask for a better one. And I love you. No matter what…” you said.

He embraced you again and you both cried. Tears of happiness and of sorrow. Blue skin or white. Yellow eyes or blue ones. He was Loki. He was your husband, and you would always stay with him. Besides, it’s what he would have done for you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you went to bed that night, you expected tomorrow to be a day like any other. But instead, you were shaken out of sleep.

“Loki, what is it? It’s too early…” you murmured, half-awake.

You felt your bedside but did not feel the lump of his body.

Wakefulness creeping on you, you saw the guards and a few servants in your bedchambers. You jumped to sit up. You held onto the blankets, your knuckles popping in your grip.

“Where is my husband? Is he alright? What’s going on?” you questioned.

Their eyes were all wide. One servant stepped forward and spoke with gravity.

“The prince Thor is banished. And Odin has fallen into his Odinsleep. Loki is now King of Asgard. And you are it’s Queen.”

It was only four sentences. But it felt like something from a dream. You jolted out of bed to stand. You barely opened your mouth to respond when the servant knelt before you. He took your hand and kissed it in reverence.

“Your highness! Queen of Asgard!” he announced.

All bowed before you in your room.

 You expected many things when you married the god of mischief. Just not this! It felt like one of those Midgard Fairytales happening to you.

When you dressed and hurried to your husband in the throne room. You forgot your new role and froze your steps. He sat on a throne, legs deliciously apart. He took up space now. The throne was entirely his and he was going to use every inch of it. He was decked in the robe of a ruler, not a prince destined to wait in the wings all his life. He had power in him, and you had to confess the aura of it was…. doing something for you. Your legs were buckling beneath your dress. There was that infamous, mischievous smile on him. It made you shiver. Already morning and desire swirled inside you. When his head turned to see you, he lit up. He got up from his throne and walked down. Per habit, you curtsied low. Then, placing a finger beneath your chin, he led you to standing. Your sex beneath your legs clenched at the gesture.

He then grabbed you and lifted you up in a hug where your feet didn’t touch the ground.

“Y/N…darling!” he greeted.

He put you down and placed a kiss on your lips.

“But…are you ready to rule? It won’t be easy…” you worried.

“It will not. But at last, think of everything I could do…lead armies…unite kingdoms…”

Even Jotenheim and Asgard if he decreed it so, you noted. You then smiled at him. He was glowing from pride and joy. He took your hand and kissed it.

“If we’re together through this…we can handle it…” he said.

They placed you to stand by his side on the throne.

 Frigga entered. She bowed to you. Your own knees bucked a little out of habit. Usually you were the one bowing to her! You walked down to her, taking her shoulders.

“Queen mother…I…I’m speechless! …I don’t know how I could ever be a queen as well as you!” you confessed to her.

She kissed your cheek and gave you a patient smile.

“Don’t worry, I will help you. Day by day, step by step, you will learn how.”

“Thank you…what do I do now?”

“You will be crowned this afternoon. The kingdom will be watching. Look at them, your people. And show them you care…” she advised.

The hour arrived for them all. Swarms of people broke in like a flood to the throne room. You felt every eye as a golden crown was placed on your head and as his familiar helmet was placed on Loki.

Remembering Frigga’s advice, you looked down on them. You allowed a smile to grow on you. You smiled as you heard your name being chanted along with your husband's name.

They cheered and bowed to you. Flags were waved and confetti fell like snow across the palace.  Loki got took your hand and lifted it up before them. They began to cry out.

“Hail the King Loki! Hail the Queen Y/N!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When the sun began to set, a familiar servant ran up to you.

“The King sends his regrets that duties require his immediate attention. He asked for the cooks to go ahead and serve you dinner in his absence,” she announced.

“Thank you,” you replied. An attempt at a regal tone of voice new to you.

The servant bowed and left. She didn’t do that as reverently when you were a mere princess. You ate your dinner alone and then took a rosewater bath right after. You noticed several stray petals floating around in the tub.

Once you finished, you returned to your chambers. It seemed they would stay the same for now. The King’s room was for the Odinsleep. Drying yourself you picked a nightgown. Tonight, it was a white one with a silvery tone to it. It had long sleeves that draped down and had beautiful beading around the bodice. The neckline dipped down to the clasp that secured it. Some might consider it immodest, but it was too beautiful for your resistance. It gave you some very sensual cleavage that you loved (and so would your husband). The skirt then dipped down to the floor, making it feel like a robe, but the material was not so thick that it felt too hot.

If you dressed more like a queen, even at night, you would feel more apt to the role.

What a day it had been. Part of your body ached after such excitement. You sat by your vanity on a cushion. Flowers (including the roses you liked) from the gardens in vases bedecked it. By the candlelight you checked your hair. Sighing in, you relaxed on the seat, admiring the glimpse of the kingdom at night from your curtains. Enjoying a moment of peace.

You then heard his voice outside the door.

“I am now going to bed. Do not disturb us unless there is an emergency,” Loki ordered the servants and guards. Already he was speaking more like a king.

The doors creaked as he opened it and walked inside. Though he was in his own green bedrobes, there was a bounce and urgency to his step. Then he approached you as you sat on the cushion before the vanity. Though his blue eyes did wander hungrily to your low neckline. They then returned up to your face in the mirror’s reflection.

“How is my pretty queen tonight?” he asked.

“I’m good…” you answered.

“Are you tired?” he asked with a tone of concern.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, fingers drumming in anticipation. Was there some old prank he was going to pull that he wanted you to see? What was he going to say?

“Only a little…I’m still taking it in…” you replied.

He embraced you from behind, nuzzling into your neck. You smiled at the contact of feeling his nose against your skin. He smiled as he looked at you in the mirror.

“You always were a queen to me, my dear….” He said.

He kissed your cheek and then lowered his lips to your neck. You smiled, enjoying the increasingly amorous gesture. You felt the tickle of his breath. His soft lips made another kiss in between your neck and clavicle. You melted into it.

“My, Freya has gotten someone enchanted…” you teased.

“It’s not Freya who enchants me…” he husked.

He then turned you around and led you to stand. And laid a desperate kiss on your lips. You wrapped your arms around him. He slid in his tongue. A hand of his crept to hold your back to him. You groaned into it. Already, arousal began its long, sinful climb with its wet signal between your legs. You released lips with a satisfying smack.

“If you continue this, I’ll ring for that tea…” you said.

“No…” he voiced.

“Hmm?”

He held your hands down.

“You won’t need that tea tonight. Or for a while…” he said.

You blinked.

“How come?”

He gave you a smile, looking in your eyes.

“I must tell you…the council has given me much advice. To secure myself as king, there are a few things I can do. Enact laws. Silence any rebellions or refusals. And, since I’m already married...”

He paused.

“Sire an heir.”

You felt your breath stop in your throat. Your eyes widened. His smile went down to a smirk. A glint in his eye as he went to you. His eyes roaming down your exposed chest. His hands wandered down, staring to hike a little of your skirt.

“So, you’re saying…” you stuttered.

“Y/N, I…I need you tonight…tonight…I’ll give you a child, an heir, someone to carry on my reign, and keep me as king…Would you like that?” he asked.

He leaned closer. Wanting to kiss you, then pausing. You could feel his breath just on your lips, making you dizzy. He placed his hips against yours. You felt a moan shudder out of you. Your answer was an easy one.

“Yes, yes I would.”

He swept you up in his arms, strong despite his lean frame.  Your heart raced so hard you felt it would burst out of you. He laid you on the bed then crawled over you. You felt yourself trembling like it was the first time. He cupped your cheek and leaned over to kiss you.

“My queen, my darling…”

You wrapped your arms around him.

“And my Prince made King,” you said back.

Intuitively, he ground his hips on yours. A small shudder went through you, coming out as a sigh. You reached a hand to run it through his hair as he kissed you again. Combing through those dark curls you loved so much. Because they were a part of him. His crown that never left him. You gave him another, harder kiss. He then looked down at your robe. He slid a hand over the beading, over your chest.

“A lady beautiful as you could doesn’t need such …embellishments…” he growled.

He removed his hand to lift it in the air. He flicked it and a green light began at the tips of your toes and then worked its way up your legs and through your body. Your evening robes for sleeping vanished and instead was your skin. He wetted his lips at the sight of your nakedness.

“I’ve longed to see this, to touch you for hours…”

He went up to your bare breasts. You gulped as he began to kiss it. Your back arched on impulse, tensing already. As he worked his way to the center, you felt yourself tensing already. Smiling at the pleasure as he used his tongue, swirling your nipple. Chills ran over you. He released his mouth to whisper.

“I’ve missed your breasts. The shape. The softness. Feeling you…”

He replaced it with his large hand. He gently squeezed and groped both around. You exhaled out another sound coming out of you. Not a polite one.

“Perfection-perfect for my hands. And perfect to nurse my heir…”

He then lowered himself down, kissing your stomach. Tracing your hips. He then kissed your bellybutton, dipping his tongue into the hole of it. Only a symbol of what was next. A delicious forewarning. Preparation. You grew wetter with the feeling of something soft and wet inside a hole of yours.

“Loki…Loki, my dear…husband…” you whimpered.

He held your hips down, tracing it and feeling them again. How they curved up to where they made your waist. His fingers sprawled possessively over your flesh. Then back down to your hips. Looking down, there was a bulge getting bigger against his green robe.

“And these…perfect. Perfect for what I put between them. For my mouth, my fingers, my cock, and my child…”

He pulled his head up, then you put your finger to his lips. Giggling lightly, as did he.

“You talk so much. But you’ve yet to bare yourself too, my love,” you teased.

With a cocky half-smile, all he did was tilt his head. The seidr ran down from the forehead to the toes, and the smooth robe was replaced with his warm skin. He was so beautiful. Every time he took off his clothes, it was everything in you not to stare. He had a broad, ivory chest so large and enveloping. It was like a blanket when you rested your head on them or when he thrust on top of you. You put a hand to explore the crevices, going through the patch of hairs on him. His muscular shoulders, perfect for digging your nails in. His abdominals-both soft and strong. For he was both at the center of his heart as well. Thighs made thick from running, jumping, and everything a warrior did.

He ground against you. His cock, already hard, teased your stomach. He leaned up to kiss your neck in its small soft spot. A hand returning to your breast.

“You will look wonderful engorged with a babe…a child…a part of you that will always be there, a trace of us together.”

“Loki…my dear husband…I love you…” you voiced.

He smiled, inching close.

“And I love you when you’re screaming beneath me…”

With one long, beautiful hand, he took the outside of your legs. He traced his fingers down from thigh to knee. Ghosting against the upper flesh of your skin. As tenderly as if you were the brightest, most precious jewel kept in his treasury. In seas of coins, rubies, and diamonds…it was you, you out of everything else, that mattered to him.

He took his large, beautiful hands and then moved them to the inside of your knees. You bit back a moan, leaning your head into the pillow as you felt it.

Using both his hands, he then spread you apart, wide open. He looked down at you and grinned. He had seen, felt, penetrated, and tasted your pussy like an addict. Always hungry for more. Even if you were poison, he would consider it the sweetest way to die. He placed himself back up. The tip just teasing your entrance. Every nerve inside you screamed. It brushed against you, never plunging in.

“You’re a banquet all for me, my dear…now…are you ready?” he whispered.

“Oh, please…. stop tormenting me… I want a child…and I want you…give me…give me one, Loki…” you begged.

“Let me…let me feel your sweet warmth and take your king’s shaft…” Loki husked.

He plunged into you slowly. Part of you panted through your nose. You felt him climb inside, inch by agonizing inch. This was a ceremony, sacred as any other rite in a royal bedroom. As if everything had to be right. Yet there was beauty-there was divinity. An ecstasy of reaching something otherworldly in between each other’s legs. You let out a loud gasp when he placed all of you inside him. You grabbed onto him.

He then retracted his hips, and he began to thrust into you. Grinding you right into the bed. Writhing as you accepted his largeness like it was new. Each gasp from his breath, each pant from each thrust. You could feel one muscular arm of your husbands touched the headboard, keeping him steady against you. You felt your back and ass slide against the silk sheets. He was slow, but eager.

“Yes…I promised you… when we married…I’d give you-nrgh-I’d give-give you everything-fuck-everything you’d ever want-gods…yes, gods, yes!” he whimpered as he thrusted.

You let out a moan with each thrust, your own breasts bouncing slowly with the movement. He looked down, releasing the hand on the headboard to slap them.

You let out a gasp- “L-Loki-you-you-you beast!”

“I thought you figured that out already, darling…” he whispered with a chuckle.

You felt his other hand wander to touch your back. You writhed under him.  He then slid his hand under his hips guide you up. His strength held you steady. He hit a different angle and you let out a cry-it was deeper, and his cock had found it’s way to your bud. Already sensitive and shaking.

“L-Loki! There! Please! There!”  you begged as he kept thrusting.

“As my queen commands…”

You saw the veins in his neck tightening as he kept on. His black curls messed around him- wild and free. A creature claiming his prize for the night. How beautiful he looked. You returned a hand back up and pulled him down. You kissed him with such fervor as he thrust that he stayed for only a second inside you, pausing, catching a breath. What breath there was, anyway.

Then he picked up the pace slightly. You were starting to see stars. That sweet angle where he got your clit. You felt pleasure rise  in you. Yes, it was arriving. You moved your hands down from his shoulders, down his triangular back. Once you found his soft, perfect ass you pushed him in again.

“Loki I’m…I’m…I’m close…oh norns- I’m…I’m going to cum!” you pleaded.

“So…am I-nrg-Call me king, call me king again and…and…I’ll-I’ll drive you there with me …”

He lowered his voice. Guttural and demanding.

“Call- me- your- king.”

He even got his free hand inside, speeding you up as he too sped up. You felt it-the breaking point.

“Yes-please-my- my king! My king!” you cried.

He let out a shout and you felt his hot seed spurt inside you. Your own climax then broke upon you. Thw words repeated out of you in a whisper.

“My king…my…my…”

It was the climax where it spun inside you. You felt your whole-body lock. Your quim felt as if it was spinning, sputtering with the pleasure. As well as his seed.  You groaned as it washed you down and you felt it. Your eyes teared up. His stayed inside, spurting like mad. Free and plentiful after starvation. A broken dam. He stayed inside. Not wasting one drip of him. You accepted it, every bit of it. Not one drop would go to waste. You felt your body buzz. Vibrating on the inside though you were still. Still except for your own breasts heaving with the breath you caught. You felt him catch his breath on top of you too.

He then cupped your cheek. His curls fell before his face. But his smile and blue eyes glowing from them.

“I couldn’t have asked for better. A better broodmare. A better wife. A better queen by my side…” he said.

Playfully, you went up and kissed the tip of his nose. He grinned at it and then embraced you. Arms flinging around each other. His own sweaty, earthy scent mixed with the rosewater bath you had earlier.

His cock still twitched inside you. Then you felt a final hot release of him and there was no more. He pulled out. Once it left you, you felt a cold space in your quim. Like it was an empty niche, something that needed filling. So much was he a part of you. You reached up your hand to brush his curls back. Seeing his face. Seeing him.

He then went down to your stomach, kissing it.

“I think if it’s a boy…we should call him Tuck…and if it’s a girl...Idona…” you then told him.

He rolled over to lay his head on the pillow. Then he turned over. You hummed at the sight of him- oh Hela, his beautiful profile was art itself!

“And what if we have twins?” he asked.

“I’ll figure it out, later!” you replied with a small laugh.

You placed your head on his chest and looked up and he down.

“I hope you’ve forgiven me for missing dinner…we’ll eat together tomorrow night; I’ll make it up to you…” he said.

“Of course, I forgive you. You had duties of your own…” you whispered.

He then gave a smile with the familiar, delicious darkness in his eyes.

“It might take more than once. We will try for an heir no matter how many times it takes. I’d like to have you on that very table like a meal of my own to devour. And I’ll have you on the library walls. On each rug. On each column. So, rest well…you have several duties of your own tomorrow.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, fluff, angst

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 30: Whump

Agape | @tami-ryver Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,421 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Torture, Tortured Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin (Supernatural), Blood and Injury, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), First Kiss, Dean Winchester Swears, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond Summary: Cas, I don't know if you can hear me, I need your help. I got myself kidnapped by a demon; you told me to pray in case something like this happened, so, please, help me! With his eyes closed, Dean doesn't see the way the demon starts leaving his old vessel and starts drifting toward him. Only when the smell of sulfur fills his nose, his eyes open quickly and he sees the black mass of the demon right in front of him, he sobs. Then a bright light fills the room.

The Confessions of Buried Bones | @Joysprings-a03 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,120 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injured!Dean Winchester, Protective! Castiel, Hunt Gone Wrong, Curses, Blood and Injury, Worried!Sam, Worried!Castiel BAMF!Castiel, Trapped, Love Confessions, Case fic, Summary: On a case gone wrong, Dean is seriously injured while Cas is running low on grace. The two are trapped together and running out of time. Things come to light, feelings and desperation take place. ********** The cave rumbled again and a few loose rocks fell, which only served to raise Dean’s hackles even more. They’d definitely missed something. “There’s a catch to the curse! After it’s broken, the place it was protecting starts to self-destruct! You have to get out of there now!” Suddenly crystal clear, Sam’s words came through his phone just as the mouth of the cave popped into view. Time slowed, and Dean’s stomach plummeted as he realized what was happening. “Run!”

Take Enough Soul | @envydean Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,450 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon!Dean/Human!Cas, Alternate Universe, summoning demons, Selling of Souls, Angst, Hurt/very little comfort, cock bulging, Bottom!Cas, slight body horror, Ambiguously Happy Ending, temporary major character death, rape/non-con Summary: Dean is summoned to an old cabin in the middle of the woods by a man who has lost his brother. After making sure Castiel's soul is worth the bargain, Dean goes in search of Castiel's brother only to find that he's not on Earth, but in Hell. Unfortunately for Castiel, deals are addictive and once he's made one, he finds he has Dean wrapped around his finger.

Entirely Unacceptable | @samanddean76 Rating: Mature Word Count: 10,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Modern Royalty, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Alpha Gabriel, Omega Sam Winchester, Alpha John Winchester, BAMF's, BAMF John Winchester, Rescue, Revenge, Or Justice, First Time, Knotting, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, True Mates, Love, Happy Ending, All The Bad Guys Get Punished, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Kneeling, Past Abuse, Mpreg, Dean Winchester Whump Summary: Alpha Castiel has unexpectedly acquired a very well-trained Omega Dean when he escorted his brother Gabriel to a public auction house. But the Omega he brought home harbors not only secrets, but enemies as well. Will they survive long enough to reach their happy ending? And can they really be true mates if neither is sure that they even believe in such a thing? Love, rescue, and some revenge in a modern-day A/B/O setting.

The Penitent | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17,832 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon!Dean, post apocalyptic AU, memory loss, temporary MCD (Sam), hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, whump!Dean, top!Castiel/bottom! Dean Summary: Ten years have passed since Demon! Dean murdered his brother Sam and devastated the land. His footprints have become almost untraceable by the angels, who've lost faith in and defeating the one in possession of the Mark of Cain. Everyone except Castiel, who after incessantly searching for a way to save Dean, finds one last hope. He must request something extraordinary from Heaven to heal the mark. block the demon, and recover Dean. Dean must reverse the events, bringing Sam back to life. To do this, he must use the Penitent's Ring, which had once belonged to Cain, and with it, he must defeat the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit. Yet is Dean capable of such this? And can Castiel heal the darkness within Dean? This is a dystopian fic, based on canonverse, post 10x20 episode. Dean had lost his memories and he will be slowly recovering them. This will bring a lot of angst, and sad moments but Castiel will be there to comfort him. It's an angsty story with action, romance and a happy ending.

[nocasdatsgay]

Sharing Is Caring: A Neapolitan Bond’s Fic

Day four of @polyacotarweek : Adventure

Summary: Azriel has a surprise for you after the ball in Hewn City. That Surprise is Rhys and Feyre.

Master Post| Poly Week Master Post| A03 Link

Rating: E| Word Count: 4339| Pairings: Azriel/Eris/Reader, Feyre/Rhysand, Azriel/Rhysand, Feyre/Reader

Warnings: Rope Bunny!Reader, all sorts of various sex, bdsm undertones, consensual partner switching, Azriel and Reader POVs

A/N: I don’t elaborate fully but I do mention there are established rules amongst the three of them. Kink plays into this but it’s unspoken understanding that they can and will stop or refuse something at any time. The part where Az explains rules laid out is more about Eris being the dominant in that moment than it is about their poly bond. Feyre and Rhys are a “surprise” but it’s been discussed off scene that yes, being with them is on the table for all three participants.

Tagging: @saltedcoffeescotch @hieragalbatorixdottir @ysmtttty @mybestfriendmademe

You shivered when Az slipped two fingers between your bare skin and where the rope rested on your back. He was checking to make sure Eris didn’t wrap it too tight. He gave a hum of approval and withdrew them. 

“How do you feel?” He leaned in by your right ear. “How is your breathing?”

“I'm good. I can breathe fine.” 

You inhaled sharply on instinct. The ropes wrapped all around your chest and waist were comfortable. Restrictive and snug, but not as tight as you’ve had them before. Decorative knots trying them in place pressed along your spine. You couldn’t see them but they felt nice. Az kissed your cheek. 

“Good. Now slip on your dress and let’s see how it looks.” 

You turned, and walked to the bed. You’d laid out dress before Eris came in. Your cheeks heated as you picked it up, your hands visible through the thin fabric. The room instantly filled with the scent of both your mates as you pulled on the dress. You turned to face them- eyeing Eris specifically. 

Azriel had picked out this dress for your visit to the Night Court. Eris would not be attending- just you and Azriel as representatives of the Autumn Court. Which was why Azriel had Eris practice his harness, so you’d feel him even if he wasn’t there. Though there was arousal in the air, you felt the annoyance from Eris through his bond before he shut it down. 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” You bit your lip and walked over to the mirror. 

The dress itself was beautiful. Gray with an iridescent sheen, cut in faux modesty. The swooping neckline wasn’t low enough to show off your breasts. But the fabric was thin and it didn’t stop the red rope from shining through- or the color of your areolas. The fabric was less see-through around your hips thankfully. But two high slits in the skirt left little to the imagination. The sleeves were long and when you turned, the knots of the rope could be seen like flowers along your back. 

Eris cleared his throat. “I don’t know if I can’t let you leave like that.”

“Hold on,” you replied. 

Skirts billowed between your legs as you walked to the bathing room. You knew his issue was your breasts. Territoral brat, you thought with a giggle. There was a trick you picked up in Dawn- they loved their flowy fabrics but that came at a cost of thickness. You just had to remember where you put them. You dug around in your drawers and found it- two cloth discs close to the color of your skin and a bottle. You took them to the sink and laid them out. As you shook the bottle and Eris and Azriel came into the bathing chamber. 

“What in the cauldron is that?” Eris asked. 

“Samira gave me these.” You replied simply. 

“That doesn’t tell us what it is, baby,” Az chuckled. 

You ignored him and pulled at the neckline, careful to not stretch it too much. You took the one you just outlined with the sticky paste and gently placed it on your breast. Once you were satisfied, you first looked in the mirror and it wasn’t visible outside the dress. You turned to your mates. 

“Better?” You asked. 

“Yes,” Eris grumbled. 

He still frowned, looking between your covered breast and uncovered one. Azriel was grumpy as well but for a different reason. You knew he was put out by the fact your your breasts weren’t visible any longer. He loved showing you off, unlike Eris. You liked it too but felt this was a good compromise. Last thing you all needed was Eris storming the Court of Nightmares to kidnap you because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and your exposed skin. 

You put the other one on and adjusted the dress when you were done. The rope was still visible and beautiful under the dress but only the shape of your breasts were visible now. You went and put the bottle back and once again turned to your mates. 

“Can we go now?” You asked innocently. 

Az was already dressed, black leather trousers and a deep gray formal shirt cut to fit around his wings to go with the dress. You did your hair and makeup before Eris put the ropes on you and it was getting dark. Az might be a fan of ‘fashionably late’ but you weren’t. 

“Yes,” Eris looked between the two of you. “And I better not get another note from Rhys saying someone caught you in the corridors again.” 

You and Az both rolled your eyes at the same time. You were just kissing- but someone blew it out of proportion. Probably because Az had his hand up your dress on your thigh. You blinked realizing right then that’s why Azriel bought this dress with high slits. You tugged his bond and he tugged back sending a smug confirmation. Ass. You sighed and walked up to Eris to give him a chaste kiss on the lips. 

“I’ll behave Daddy.” Fire flashed in his eyes as you ducked away, knowingly teasing him. 

“I make no promises,” Az added, he too giving Eris a quick kiss. “Is what we talked about still on the table?” 

“Yes,” Eris cut his eyes to you. “But only if you want it.”

You didn’t know what it was. Azriel told you he might have a surprise after the ball. If it was something Eris agreed to then it fell under the established rules between the three of you. Though you were certain that surprise was actually a someone or someones. 

“Of course,” you replied, waving him off. 

As if your mates ever forced you to do something you didn’t want.

“We will be back tomorrow,” Az took your arm. He smirked at Eris. “If we don’t return by noon I’m sure you know how to storm Hewn City.” 

“Don’t tempt me. Enjoy your little adventure,” he said sarcastically. 

You clung tightly to Az as his shadows enveloped you, shadow walking you into Hewn City. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The party went as well as you could expect. Azriel put on a cold persona, guarding you very closely in the beginning until you were near the High Lord and High Lady. He relaxed a little after. Mostly due to Cassian riling him up. The teasing between them did not escape you, not when it was more than what they did during visits to Valeris. 

You stayed near Nesta and Feyre, Nesta dragging you out to the dance floor more than once to make Cassian and Azriel pay attention to you both. By the time it was past midnight, you were firm in belief of what surprise Azriel had in store for you. 

You both headed to suite Eris normally used on Hewn City. The room even smelled like him when Az shut the door behind you. You were making your way to the bathing when Az pulled you by the ropes under your dress so you were back against his chest. He kissed your neck while shadows circled you both. 

“Are you up for playing?” He whispered in that deep tone that made your eyes roll back. 

“Maybe.” You hummed as he kissed your neck again and his hand came up to cup your breast. “Just us or will we have a guest?”

“You know me so well,” Az nipped at your ear. 

“Who is it?” 

“Rhys and Feyre.” He felt you tense and immediately added. “We don’t have to baby, it’s just a suggestion.”

You moved out of his hold to face him. “It’s not that. I just- I thought it would be Cassian.” Your face heated at the confession. 

Az’s gaze went dark and he grinned at you. “Do you want to play with Cassian?” 

“Maybe, but it was just how he talked to you tonight, I thought-” Heat creeped up to your ears. You didn’t know why it was embarrassing. “Well I- liked it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. I’ll tell Rhys you said no-“

“I didn’t say no.” He cut his eyes to yours and you saw his wings flare out a little. “I just said I thought it was going to be Cassian and Nesta. I’ll play with Rhys and Feyre.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yes sir.” 

His cedar scent sweetened and he dropped his eyes to your chest. “Take those fucking nipple covers off first, then we will go.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Az shadow walked you to the open hall of moonstone palace. The chill air made your nipples harden under the fabric now that your covers were removed. He took your hand and led you down the hall. 

“Eris said you can have Feyre any way you like but Rhys can only use his fingers on you.” He whispered into your ear. “But if you want, he suggested you sit on his face and humble him.” 

“And you?” Your body was already flushing at the idea.

“I can have Rhys if I want to. If I do anything with Feyre, it’s up to you.” 

“Do you think I’ll get jealous?” Your giggle echoed along with your footsteps. 

“I would be offended if you didn’t.” He kissed your cheek. 

Azriel finally stopped at a door. He didn’t knock- you assumed he alerted them with his mind as there was no shock from the occupants when you stepped inside. Across one side of the room was a large bed. Big enough for Illyrian wings and others comfortably. Right across from the bed were two chairs who housed the current room occupants. Az dropped his hand to your lower back, guiding you towards them. 

Rhysand and Feyre watched the two of you, their gazes made it look like they knew something you didn’t. Your nerves spiked; you put up your mental shields like Eris taught you just to put yourself at ease. Az stopped in front of them. Feyre’s gaze raked over you. Rhys was the one who broke the silence. 

“Did you enjoy the party?” 

“We did,” Az replied. “But I think we’re going to have much more fun here.” Az, ever the flirt. 

“We have rules.” You said it quickly, your nervousness coming out. “Did Az explain them? Before?”

“Yes, baby,” he chuckled, answering for Rhys. He always found your nervousness cute. “You don’t have to worry about Rhys. He knows what he can and cannot do with you.” 

“I won’t get you in trouble,” Rhys winked at you. For some reason that made you blush. 

Feyre stood, her white gown glistening in the fae lights. It was a beautiful dress; a halter top with a high slit. It was even more beautiful in contrast to her tattoos. But you always thought Feyre was beautiful. The air between you was charged even though she stood a few steps away from you. 

“Can I see? The ropes?” Feyre’s eyes widened with what appeared to be excitement. “I have never seen that before.”

You looked to Az and he nodded, removing his arm from you. You slipped the dress down off your arms and shoulders, letting the fabric gather at your hips. Feyre’s mouth fell open as she looked you over. 

“It’s so pretty,” she breathed, walking around you. You preened under her attention. “Did you do this,” she asked Az from behind you. 

“Eris did.” 

“Can I touch you?” Feyre stopped in front of you and bit her lip. 

“You may.”

She reached out and touched the rope that wrapped around and lifted your right breast. You inhaled sharply, trying to not gasp. Her finger tips skimmed across the rope, ghosting along your skin. She looked up at you again and you didn’t have to see her pupils were blown out. You could smell her. 

“Can I touch you,” she asked again, damn near breathless. You knew what she meant. 

“Please.”

You swore you heard your mate chuckle. Her hand went to your breast and you whined. She stepped closer and ran her thumb along your nipple. You didn’t ask permission when you leaned in and kissed her. Gods you hadn’t kissed another female in so long. You both sighed and your arms went around her neck. Her lips were softer than both your mates and she tasted sweeter too when you slipped your tongue in. 

While your hands undid the clasp on the back of her neck that connected her dress, Feyre pushed at the fabric gathered at your hips. She hummed against your lips when her fingers met bare skin instead of underwear. Shoes were kicked off and the clasps on Feyre’s dress let the straps fall off her, her heavy breasts freed. You pulled away to look at her, your hand running down over her chest to cup said breast. 

“Beautiful,” you muttered. 

You glanced up at her and circled your thumb on her nipple. That was all it took for her to push off her dress and push you onto the bed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Az was mesmerized watching you kiss and undress Feyre. He didn’t even tell you to stop and ask for permission- you looked too happy. That and his shadows hissed at him to leave you be. He fell back in the chair behind him and just watched, his cock stirring in his pants as the smell of you hit him hard. 

Azriel. 

Rhys. 

He didn’t bother to look at him, still watching you and Feyre climb onto the bed together. His hand absentmindedly rubbing his now hardened cock through his trousers. Then his view was obscured. His focus shifted to look up at Rhys. 

I didn’t ask for you to come here just for you to ignore me all night. He smirked. 

Then get on my lap. 

Rhys stared at him, thinking. Or at least pretending to. Az knew Rhys well enough that even after centuries he still had to act like he wasn’t eager. Azriel’s wings flared out as Rhys moved and straddled his thighs. Az reached and grabbed his ass, pulling him close. Rhys finally leaned in and pressed his lips to Azriel’s. There was a content sigh that left him when Rhys slipped his tongue into his mouth. Az didn’t know if he wanted to curse or praise Rhysand’s silk trousers. They were making him slide against Az’s leather pants while in his lap and each time Azriel pulled him forward, Rhy’s hardness would bump against his own. 

Gods I missed you. Rhys moaned into his mouth. 

Az missed him too. He loves Eris and you; but he still missed being with Rhys and even Cassian. Only fleetingly; you and Eris satisfied his heart and soul. That didn’t mean he was immune to reminiscing about the times before. He was surprised Eris let him do this when he asked. 

Az groaned and bit Rhys’s lip. 

“Fuck,” Rhys pulled back gasping. Az looked up concerned. 

Your mate just gave mine one hell of an orgasm. Rhys started to laugh softly. 

Already? 

I may have been edging Feyre all night. Rhys grinned smugly. 

Azriel’s shadows started to work on their clothes, undoing his and Rhysand’s pants. Az was grateful- he felt your pleasure building through the bond. One look around Rhys and he saw you with Feyre crawling over your body.  

Looks like Feyre is about to return the favor. Az chuckled. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The moment you were on the bed, you made Feyre lay up at the top. You gave her just a moment before you lavished kisses on her body, leading yourself down to settle between her legs. Feyre tasted as good as she smelled. You immediately lapped up her wetness, your tongue finding her clit and your fingers slipping into her with ease. 

That’s good. Feyre spoke it into your mind but moaned loudly. Oh that’s really good. 

It was weird being able to talk to Feyre without using your voice but nice at the same time. You felt around for a moment inside her and Feyre bucked against your face. 

Found it.

You grinned and sucked on her clit. It did not take long- Feyre squirmed on the bed, pulled at your hair and a few minutes later she gasped and was pulsing hard around your fingers as you worked her through it. She was catching her breath when you pulled out your fingers, sticking them in your mouth to lick them clean. 

Rhys edged me before you got here. Her pretty face flushed. 

Those do make for the best orgasms. Az edged me so much one time that I came just from Eris touching me. 

You looked her over as you pulled your fingers out of your mouth. You realized she had a faint glow to her. 

“You glow.” 

“Only when it’s good.” She smirked. 

“Glad to know I made it good.” You smirked back.

You moved back over her, intending to just kiss for a moment. However, Feyre was in your mind and looking up at you while biting her lip.

Can I, you know, go down on you?

You don’t have to. 

Feyre ignored your reply. She flipped you over onto the bed so she was over you now. 

I want to. Tell me what to do.  

So you did. You laid back and let her kiss down your body, taking her time and touching the rope still on you. When she finally settled between your legs, you told her to just do what she liked done on herself. You still had to guide her a little. She moved her tongue differently than Az and Eris, a welcomed change that had you rubbing yourself against her face. 

Careful you said when she pushed her fingers into you. You have longer nails. 

Right, sorry.  Feyre made sure to be gentle.  

“Good girl,” you whispered when the pads of her fingers found that spot inside you. 

She moaned against you and you pushed your hands into her hair. Looking up you could see Rhys sitting in Azriel’s lap. Shadows were flurrying around them. You focused on the bond. You could feel Az’s joy in taking care of Rhys. You pushed your pleasure through and grinned when you felt him tug back with a warning. You weren’t pushing your luck, not tonight. You went back to focusing on Feyre and mummering your praise as she brought you over the edge. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With the help of his shadows, he had Rhys’s shirt open and his pants undone. While Az let his own shirt slide off onto the floor behind the chair, he kept his trousers laced. Az wanted to focus on Rhys first. Rhys was insatiable as ever, his kisses getting rougher while shadows played with his chest and nipples. Az forced him back long enough to spit on his hand and start stroking Rhys’s cock. 

Rhys groaned and went back to kissing him. Azriel’s strokes were slow, almost lazy. He loved working his partners up and this was no different. He felt you through the bond, like a questioning pulse. Az sent down his feelings and let you know he was enjoying himself. You sent back pleasure that shot down his spine and made his hips buck. 

Your mate? Rhys grinned against his lips. 

She’s being a brat. Az replied playfully. 

Azriel tugged the bond once: a warning if you didn’t back off, you’d be in trouble. You seemed to take the hint and your side of the bond backed off. Az went back to stroking and kissing Rhys. It didn’t take much longer for the High Lord to reach the edge. Az pulled back. He stroked him faster and leaned in to bite at his neck. Rhys roared a curse and a rumble went through the mountain as he came all over Az’s hand and between their chests. 

“What the fuck was that?” Your voice carried loudly. 

Az busted out laughing, still stroking Rhys who for once looked embarrassed. 

“If it’s good, he makes the mountains shake,” Az could hear Feyre giggling as she said it. 

“Not funny,” Rhy shoved at Azriel’s hand but didn’t move off him. He buried his face against Az’s neck. Something he hadn’t done since they were youths. 

“Poor Illyrian baby,” Feyre called out. 

“Every time?” You asked. He could see you looked shocked. “This is a High Lord thing, isn’t it? Eris makes the fireplace damn near explode sometimes.” 

Rhys pulled back, brows raised at Az. “Does he?”

Az laughed. “He’s getting better at controlling it. Something you could learn to do.” He looked around to you again. “I’m going to tell him you spilled his secret.” 

“It’s not a secret when the whole damn Forest House knows. They’re just too polite to say it to his face.” You grumbled just loud enough for him and Rhys to hear. 

Azriel tugged the bond twice and you tugged back once. A promise to behave. He turned his attention back to Rhys. 

“You made a mess. I think you should clean it up.” 

“You’re just trying to get me to suck your cock,” Rhys leaned in and kissed him hard. “You’re lucky that it works on me.” 

“I am good at getting High Lords on their knees.” 

Az laughed when Rhys shot him a look, slipping off his lap and tucking himself back into his pants. 

You could just fuck me. Rhys sank to his knees. Or did Eris say no?

He was afraid Rhys would ask. He didn’t have it in him to explain his feelings about it. He just sighed aloud and mentally replied. 

I say no. It’s nothing personal.

Understood. 

Rhys didn’t push it. He used his magic to clear away the mess and then focused on undoing Azriel’s trousers. Az sat back and watched Rhys take him out of his trousers and immediately take him into his mouth. Az slumped in his chair, the tension he’d been feeling all night seeping out of him. Rhys remembered just how he liked it too, tongue swirling around the head of his cock each time he pulled back. 

Az didn’t draw it out. He grabbed Rhys by his hair and forced him to take him down his throat. Rhys choked and Az came, spilling down his throat. He let go and watched Rhys pull back and gasp for air. Which was probably the hottest thing he’d seen all night. Az went to tuck himself back into his trousers but you tugged on the bond. 

“Az,” you called out from the bed. You and Feyre were grinning at him and Rhys. “Would you be up to playing with Feyre?”

Az looked at Rhys. 

Rhys gave him a lazy smile. Don’t look at me like that. I want to watch.

Of course you do. Az chuckled.

Instead of redoing his pants, he shoved them off. Rhys did the same and they both joined you and Feyre on the bed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After bidding them good night,  Az shadow walked you both to the room. Mostly because you didn’t want to put your dress and shoes back on. Az was similarly nude, clothes in hand. You wanted to wipe down and go to bed; the sooner morning came, the sooner you could get the ropes off. You loved them but sometimes the feeling was overstimulating. You didn’t dare ask Az to take them off you if only because it would put out Eris. The smell hit you first. The room smelled like Eris earlier but it was stronger now. Your whole body relaxed when you spotted him in the chair by the fireplace.

”Miss us so much you had to storm the city before dawn?” Az asked. 

Eris cut his eyes up from the book in his lap, looking between the two of you. 

“I take it you had fun,” he slipped a paper into the book and closed it. 

“Yes.” You dropped your clothes and went up to him. He set the book aside and let you climb into his lap. “Thank you.” You kissed him hard. 

“You don’t have to thank me, love,” he whispered when you pulled back. “It was Azriel’s idea.”

You could hear Azriel in the background moving around the room but you remained where you were. You needed to tell him. The guilt was on your face, you knew it. 

“I told them about the fireplace.” Eris blinked at you. “I’m sorry, Rhys made the whole fuckin mountain shake and I- I was a little worked up from… Feyre. It just came out.”

Eris bursted out with laughter. “Gods, the whole mountain?” 

“Are you mad?”

”No,” Eris tried to stifle his laughter but failed. “By the mother, he’s been a High Lord for centuries and he still cannot control himself?”

You blinked, a little confused. Az spoke up from the other side of the room. 

“To be fair, he didn’t start that until he met Feyre.” He said. “I think he showed off once and forgot how to turn it off.”

There was silence for a beat before Eris looked you over. “You look tired, love.” He stroked the bare skin of your thighs with his thumbs. “You also reek of Night Court.” 

“Sleep first.” You laid your head against his shoulder, slumping into his grasp. “Can you take the ropes off?” 

“Of course.” 

He used his magic and the ropes vanished. You closed your eyes and sighed, relieved now that nothing was pressing against your skin. He must have used his magic to clean you or glamour on you one; the smells from Rhys and Feyre on you were stifled. You felt another pair of hands on you. Azriel pulled you out of Eris’s lap. You grumbled in protest. 

“I’m just putting you to bed, grumpy,” Az chuckled. He carried you and placed you on the bed, pulling the blanket up.

You wanted to protest. You had so much to tell Eris but sleep was pulling you into its grasp quickly. You’d tell Eris about your adventures in the morning you decided; as long as Az didn’t do it first.