#this shit drained my guts please do enjoy

[dat-lil-shark]

Brotherhood

Rough draft

Please forgive the roughness in this animation

I probably will post a coloured version soon

[soggyriceee]

strawberry | Konig nsfw

| this one is a smut, but also angst. basically, Konig gets you to use your safe word for the very first time after being gone for a year in the German base. so, I hope you all enjoy :) |

warnings: rough sex, crying (not good kind) angst, aggressive konig, not edited, will be edited in the morning

╰┈➤

Konig was always gentle during sex. and it a hundred percent had to do with the fact he was literally twice your height and then some. yes he left hickeys, small small bruises on your hips from his grasp, left your legs a bit wobbly. but those were normal considering his size. and even when you reassured him you liked that, he would always apologize profusely, getting you anything you need for hours and hours after.

but tonight, he was a whole other man. he wasn't the same kind and giving Konig. and to an extent you liked the new dominance, the new aggression. it was hot.

until it wasn't.

Konig had been between your legs, fingering and eating you out for about an hour. he was hungry, and not for edible food. he was hungry for you. that sweet pussy of yours, your tight cunt gripping his fingers or dick. he missed it while he was back in Germany for some mission he had given you little information about. all you knew was he was in the middle of Germany, killing potential threats.

already you had came 4 times (that he allowed). he was so pussy drunk, he hadn't realized the tears that brimmed those pretty eyes. in fact, his eyes were closed, his lower half grinding into the bed. you were sure he had already came in his pants at least twice at this point. he would occasionally whimper into you pussy, his hips moving faster against the bed. " fuck ive missed this pussy maus.. you dont even understand." he said into your drenched cunt. a mix of saliva and cum ran down your legs, a big puddle underneath the both of you.

"k-konig can we.. take a break please." you cried from above, your legs shaking despite his mouth simply on your thighs, leaving more and more marks. he nipped at the soft flesh of yours after those words came out, a low growl leaving his lips. " how dare you ask such a question?" he rose, pulling his pants down. and you were right.

his dick was layered in his cum, more of it dripping out from the tip. he was so agonizingly hard, he couldnt bare to fuck into the bed anymore. he needed what he dreamt of every night since leaving. and he needed it now. "imma fuck my babies into you liebling.. make you swollen with them." he said, almost to himself, as he grabbed the base of him, looking down at your pussy.

as much as you wanted him to rearrange your guts, you were drained. he had made you so overstimulated, you could barely form thoughts. it was hard trying to even raise your head from the pillow. but he didnt care. he hadn't realized it before, but as much as he does want to cherish your body like its a rare piece of art from olden times, worth millions of dollars, he loved seeing you fucked out just as much. he loved seeing how he had complete control over your body and there was nothing you could do. it sparked a whole new person in him, one that you were quickly growing scared of.

before you could process his tip sliding slowly into you with ease, his hips were already slamming into yours, his balls hitting your cum soaked ass with so much force, the sound filled the room. your hands clutched onto his shoulders for dear life, your eyes squeezing shut. " you look so fucking pretty maus.. so fucking pretty. all fucked out like this.. shit~" he groaned, his eyes watching your face twist in what he believed was pleasure.

and for a bit it was. until he raised your leg all the way up, leaving the other down. your leg fell over his shoulder and your arms flopped to your side. he was hitting directly at your cervix and it hurt. but he was in so much pleasure. his head fell back as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his lips spitting out dirty phrases in both English and German.

and of course, being away from sex for a year, Konig was beyond sensitive. he came for the first time within the first few thrusts, his head falling into your bruised breasts, whimpering out how good it feels. but that didnt stop him. he kept going.

his hand found its way to your throat, gripping it unintentionally hard. with the mix of tears and now the shortness of breath, it was all a lot on your body physically. Konig had gotten to carried away inside your pussy, the way it sucked him back in. "fuck maus.. your s-so wet.. im close again~" he whimpered, his lips latching to your breasts to find space to mark it yet again.

at this point you were literally going in and out of vision. his grip on you grew tighter as he released yet another load into you. you too felt your pussy leaking, unaware of the knot that was in your stomach. you were feeling too many things at once that you ended up going completely numb. you whimpered below him, trying to find anything to get him to realize that you needed a break. but the tears that fell from your eyes only made him wanna fuck you more.

he slid out, watching the mixture of cum literally pour out of you. your thighs were soaked and red from the constant biting and nibbling a few moments ago. your face was red as well from the lack of oxygen. he let go of your neck, licking his lips as if he was deciding what to do with you next. all he knew, was that he wanted to keep fucking you.

he grabbed your legs and pressed them together and into your chest. immediately you felt his dick slide right in, going at his fast pace yet again. "k-konig please- I-i cant" you managed to choke out, your head hitting the bed frame with each thrust he gave you. this was when the fun for you ended. it only made him more and more horny, seeing you tap out so soon after he began to fuck you.

the look in his eyes was not the same look when he came home, a huge bouquet of flowers in his hand as he ran up to you, lifting you off the ground and placing kisses all over your face. no. this look was dangerous. it was almost like it was the same look he had on the battle field.

his hand went back to your throat, his head tilting to the side slightly. "shut up a-and fucking.. take it. I know.. you missed this a-as much as me." he growled, moving his hips only faster and deeper. but you couldnt take it. you truly couldnt take it.

by the time you felt your 6th orgasm approaching, you began to see white light in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you were truly at your limit. "s-strawberry" you tried to say as loud as you could. but the sounds of your cunt and konigs whimpers, he couldnt hear you. his thrusts kept going until you felt him release inside you again, his grip on your throat enough to snap your throat. and at that same time, what you though was impossible happened. you had the most painful orgasm ever, your body feeling like it was going to shut down entirely. it was like you had nothing else to give.

""fuck libeling.. gimme one more.. be a good girl." he whispered breathlessly, his hips beginning to once again, move. this time slower but still deep. but you physically couldn't take it.

once you felt yourself begin to doze off from the lack of oxygen and overstimulation, you were finally able to coherently and loudly say, 'strawberry'.

╰┈➤

you woke up about a half hour later, your throat sore and body just as sore. you tried to turn but your legs gave you a painful sign to stay put. thats when it all came back what had happened. of course, it made tears well up in your eyes. you'd just seen a side of Konig you never thought you'd see. a side of him he kept hidden from you.

you stayed completely still, looking into nothing until you heard sniffles coming from the floor behind you. of course, you tried to move but it hurt. but eventually you were able to turn to your side, a few pained moans leaving you every now and then. thats when your eyes landed on Konig sitting on the floor, head in his hands as tears seeped through his fingers.

"Konig?" you said, wincing right after. but he didnt look up. he kept his head in his hands, his chest rising and falling quick. and you knew what this was. you'd been with him for so long, you knew exactly what he was going through based off his body. but as much as you wanted to help him, you genuinely couldnt feel your legs. "please come here.. I cant get up. let me hold you." you said, reaching your hand out. but still, nothing.

you felt a pain in your chest watching him like this, unable to do anything. you wanted to help him, reassure him that everything is okay. but words only do so much for him, he needed you to physically show him everything was okay. "Konig please I-" "I h-hurt you. im s-so s-sorry." he spoke out, hyperventilating throughout all. he began to rock on the floor, crying harder into his hands.

hearing him cry, it made you want to cry with him. especially since, you couldnt do anything but try and talk to him. "Konig please." you tried reasoning with him. but he couldnt get himself off the floor. thats when you decided to drag yourself off the bed, no matter how much pain you felt. you knew that yes you needed help too, but you weren't gonna get any if your help was having a panic attack.

once you got to the end of the bed, you crawled off of it slowly, your hands hitting the ground first, legs second. you groaned at the light impact, but still dragged yourself over to Konig. he was shaking when you got to him, his cries not stopping, even when you rested your hand on his foot. "Konig please stop crying.. look im okay. im alive." "but you almost weren't." he was looking up now. seeing his red puffy eyes broke your heart. and seeing you, looking lifeless and not responding to him made him even more worried for you than you were for him. the only thing that kept him going was your pulse, and barely that.

"I-i almost k..killed-" he couldnt finish his sentence before sobbing into his hands again, shaking his head. your head dropped, you didnt know what to say. you'd never experienced this issue with Konig, with anyone before. you'd never had to use your safe word and you never expected to. "Konig.. can you look at me?" you finally spoke, your voice stern.

he looked up at you, wiping his eyes. " it was an experience, okay? yes it was scary and yes it could've gone wrong. but it was a could've situation, not a did happen situation. as much as I want to help you feel better, I cant do that if I cant see you, and talk to you like I am now." your hand took his, squeezing gently. he sniffled and nodded, looking straight into you. " right now, I need help too. so lets help each other feel better." you said, smiling softly at him.

he looked down at your neck, some of the hickies leaving behind dried blood or bite marks. some even both. his heart dropped as he ran his eyes down your body again, the thsirt he put on you the second he realized you had passed out, barely covering the similar marks on your thighs. "im.. im so sorry maus.." he whispered, shaking his head.

you smiled and grabbed his face, leaning in as slow as you could as to not hurt yourself, leaving small kisses on his cheek. " I love you Konig, okay? you got a bit carried away. you've been gone a year. its normal. unexpected, but I understand. just please, next time-" "ill treat you like your made of glass libeling." he finished, grabbing your face.

Konig knew deep down, he'd never forgive himself for this. for putting you in danger like that, for turning into the man he was on the battlefield. he'd never forgive himself, no matter how many times you told him it was okay. it wasn't. and he felt worse about being the one on the floor crying instead of showering you in love.

he stood, grabbing you with such ease into his arms, flipping you bridal style. you clung to his neck, smiling at him. "lets go give you a bath, ill order your favorite food. or I can cook. then we can watch that show you've been watching. we can do anything you want maus.. I love you." he said, walking towards the connected bathroom.

and you both did just that. the rest of the night you stayed in, cuddling and watching your favorite shows. as bedtime grew closer for you both, he began to clean the marks along your body, kissing each one and apologizing after them all. he felt so bad, and he was willing to go above and beyond, and even then some, to make you feel like the beautiful princess you were.

[4th-make-quail]

IWTV Fic Recs - Old Man Daniel Focused

I've been meaning to put together a list somewhere for this, and since I just sent a bunch to someone, here it is finally! it's a mix of Armand/Daniel, Daniel/Louis, Armand/Daniel/Louis in various configurations - please enjoy!

if you read and enjoy these fics, please make sure to leave a comment for the authors on ao3!

Daniel/Louis

Conflict of Interest, by hereticas - T, 2000 words

Louis comes by Daniel's room the morning after they recover their memories of San Francisco.

Very very cute kissing post s02e05 fic!

Daniel/Louis, Daniel/Louis/Armand, Armand/Daniel, Armand/Louis (combo of all)

it seemed the thing to do (what made me think I could start clean slated?), by fastcarmp3 - E, 3900 words, WIP

Louis asked Daniel if he wanted to… now. It wasn’t an empty offer.

Danlou with Armand watching which is SMOKING HOT

Terza Rima, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1700 words

Daniel finally gets what he came to Dubai for, but the aftermath brings even more questions.

INCREDIBLY hot threesome with stellar character voices, bit of Armand Voyeurism (THE GOOD SHITE), bit of Daniel being a slut for being bitten

That's It, Mr. Molloy, by anonymous - E, 4900 words

Daniel finds himself distracted, during the interview. Rashid comes to help, and invites Louis along, too. He snaps his gaze away, clearing his throat. “So, are we, uh…talking about that? Or…” “Talking?” Rashid cocks his head, amused. “Is that what you would like to do, Mr. Molloy? Talk?” As he speaks, he steps forward, walking Daniel backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed. Daniel looks back, startled, as though he hadn’t realized he was moving, at all. “Won’t you sit down, Mr. Molloy?” Rashid asks, gesturing.

that old man gets PROPERLY FUCKED!! bit of a Rashid!Armand situation, bit of massage, very very hot

Push it away but it all comes back again, by butchybats - E, 5400 words

“'Let me get this straight. You left me for dead,' Daniel addresses Louis, who very pointedly does not make eye contact with him. This time Daniel turns slightly to face Armand. 'And you saved my life in the most erotic way possible?'” Or: All Daniel wants is to resume the interview like normal after finding out about the supposed "love of Louis' life". Louis and Armand have better plans.

Threesome sex VERY HOT (includes a bit of flashback to 70s era) with a really fucking excellent Daniel Voice!

Armand/Daniel

were the flowers orange?, by andrealyn - T, 6700 words

Years ago, Daniel cut out the love of his life to save himself from choking on tiger eye, daylily, bird of paradise. Now, in Dubai, suddenly the disease returns even though the only thing that's changed is Rashid became Armand. And yet, the flowers tell him something -- whoever he cut out is fighting like hell to be remembered.

Absolutely DEVASTATING hanahaki fic, this shit is really fucking good!!!

the fog eating the night, by tei - E, 3700 words

If Louis had wanted him alive, he'd have escorted him out himself. But he hadn't. He'd left Daniel standing there stunned, and walked out like none of this had mattered to him at all. Whether he meant to or not, Louis had given Daniel to Armand.

Very tasty post s02e08 turning fic! Really damn good Daniel Voice.

At Close of Day, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1700 words

On a frigid Christmas night, Daniel and Armand celebrate being alone together as they explore their budding relationship.

Really hot with human!Daniel! A top Armand who absolutely ADORES him, it's very fucking cute

Only a Name, by nothing_but_paisley - E, 1500 words

In Dubai, Daniel is visited in dreams by an opinionated young man--but there's something terribly familiar about him.

More Rashid!Armand fic, very very fucking hot

strange mutations, by leavethebes - E, 11000 words

Armand’s done it to him once before—gored him through the stomach, gutted him like a fish, snipped his gills off, and drained him right down to the fluttering valves of his heart. Left Daniel little more than a shriveled husk of a person, and somehow Daniel is back here anyway, on his knees in front of Armand and begging for the oblivion that was promised.

Post s2 but before Armand turns Daniel, really fun Armand interfering in Daniel's life post-Dubai and another excellent Daniel Voice!

Devouring, by verimeru - Mature, comic

An 11-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand facing his worst nightmare.

OUGH, MY FEELS.....

Daddy, by GreyGiantess & verimeru - Mature, comic

“What's with the face?” Daniel asked. Armand’s eyes widened slightly, which was probably meant to make him look innocent, but it only made The Face worse. “This is just my regular face, Daniel.” “Yeah, right. You’re up to something.” In which VERIMURU and GRAYGIANTESS team up to give you the Armandaniel age difference COMIC you didn't know you needed! Very loosely related to Baby.

VERY cute age difference comic with human Daniel! Appreciated him still having his parkinson's, and their relationship and dynamic is SO cute

whip in my valise, by firstaudrina - E, 3100 words

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” Armand said. “Yeah,” Daniel said, the word an aggravated pull. “Well.” Old Man Daniel goes to Night Island.

Very very good, VERY VERY HOT, excellent level of fucked up with some delicious voyeurism also

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TW: detailed description of: violence, scars. mentions of: domestic violence, overdose, infant death, family death. a man's way of thinking.

[Please read while listening to this.]

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

Once, a horrible man, with breath tainted by the acrid stench of tobacco mixed with the remnants of a newly drained liquor bottle, said to Simon. Bloody ‘ell, the amount of shit that came out of that bastard’s mouth, acting like he was some kind of philosopher instead of a wife-beating alcoholic who made his sons’ lives a living hell.

Young Simon didn't understand what it meant; he couldn't think much other than that his father was telling him to burn himself alive. Something he would do, something he would find temporary pleasure in until he stole the next alcohol money his wife earned during her 12-hour nursing shift.

Entering his teenage years, he didn’t think much of those words anymore, thinking of them as just another addition to the incredible amount of shite that came outta that bastard’s mouth.

But it returned when he joined the military. He thought that's it—that “burn” his father spoke of was the passion to serve, to protect. To combat the injustices that had lingered since the dawn of time. He wanted to be the one to make at least one change, a difference. To be the best. It served him well, that fire, all through his rookie training.

Or was it fury?

That white-hot rage that burned his gut, driving him forward as the soil crumbled and leaked through the planks of his coffin. It was that very rage that kept him alive, even when he was condemned to suffocate in his own grave. The spark coursing through his red blood cells, filling his fingertips as he dug with someone else’s jawbone for thirteen hours.

It was his unbridled fury that had stayed steadfast by him when he pledged his vengeance for the blood of his family. It was fury that had carried him out of Roba's burning mansion—another one to add to his record of outwitting the Grim Reaper.

Simon went on with his life thinking that that was it—he needed to stay angry to survive in this world. Nothing else matters but getting out, getting vengeance for every cut, every drop of crimson on the dirty tile beneath his combat boots. He had nothing left to fight for—no family, no home to protect anymore. So, fury had to be the answer. Simon just had to stay an angry man.

And he grew rotten. A stray dog always baring his canines. Ill-suited for domestic life, dropping in only when he needed sustenance—something, anything to hold between his teeth to chew and tear.

Those fingers were corrosive—fluoroantimonic acid in human form, but he did his job even better than he had when he was Simon Riley. Perhaps it was his identity that held him back. Now that he was just an old soul in miraculously intact flesh, there was nothing chaining his feet.

Simon is given three primary roles: hunter, judge, executioner.

Meeting his towering figure means never going home again—any poor bastard who has crossed paths with him is presumed dead. For he has grown rotten; sometimes more corrosive than fluoroantimonic acid, even. He gets the job done, quick and clean.

Simon Riley walks through this world in fury. He is fully conscious, with a dying heart that still beats, filled with deep, deep envy for those who don't have to be angry all the time. Because as much as he needs to keep burning, this is not something he does willingly. It leaves more harm than good. But men like him never have a choice.

Because the pain reminded him that he was alive.

With every blow of the gunstock to the back of his head, he was reminded again and again. As his fist swung at the other guy and the knuckles beneath his gloves connected with a jaw, he was reminded again and again that he was alive.

Simon still hadn’t decided whether he was the luckiest or unluckiest bastard alive.

To be tortured, only to realize that he had survived worse—that he would survive this one and would have to live through the aftermath. And so on until it created a never-ending loop of hell that felt like some twisted form of divine retribution.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

It was just one of the many bollocks his father spouted. The old man probably wanted to leave some grand, motivational words—to leave a mark. But the truth is, he didn’t need to do that. He’d left enough on him. Like all the times Simon stood in front of the mirror, shaving cream around his jaw—almost scared the shit out of his own mum, thinking he was his father.

And he despised that—the fact that he would be reminded of that pathetic excuse for a father for the rest of his life. That even after years since his father left home to lie in the hospital, counting his days from that bloody cancer, his mother still had the same fear every time she saw his father in him.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

He needs to burn.

He needs to…

Burn.

The burning ember at the end of the cigar flares up as Price takes a deep drag of it, holding it in the cave of his mouth before exhaling the remaining smoke and mixing it with the alcoholic aroma of a London pub they visited to “celebrate” another successful mission.

As if this was anything close to a celebration. Though Gaz and Soap were indeed deep in their pints and laughing like a pair of drunken fools, the way the Captain and Kate Laswell bend close together tells him that they have already begun discussing some hints about the next op.

Simon massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the unfamiliar emptiness where his hard-plate mask would usually dig, but instead he found wire beneath the polypropylene. He tapped his fingers boredly on the aged wood, feeling the itch to hold a cold glass in his grasp but having decided not to order anything—there was no point; he wasn’t really planning on staying for too long anyway.

Instead, he tried to find a distraction by doing what he did best – people watching. He watched the bartender serve some fancy cocktail to two birds at the end of the bar, probably those fruity, overpriced drinks that made his throat sore.

Turning his gaze to the far corner, he saw a couple sitting in awkward silence. Looks like some first date gone wrong—judging from the bloke's fidgeting and the lass staring down at her drink, not saying a word. Bloody painful to watch.

Simon glances out the window, watching the steady stream of more people passing by. London is always busy, no matter the time of the day. A city of millions, with each person having their own life, their own stories—the things they wake up to and go to sleep to.

Often, he compares it to old, half-dead Manchester for familiarities, something that might help him blend in with this city. But it’s always the same ending—the differences far outweigh anything he recognizes. The bright lights, the bustling streets, the life—all of it foreign. Seems like the gritty, depressing streets of his youth still suit him after all.

For an hour, he sat there before feeling himself growing more and more restless. Finally, he pushed himself up, ready to make his escape. Soap and Gaz protested, which he ignored before he gave a nod to Price and Laswell, who didn't question him further, already knowing him well enough by now whenever he wasn't in the mood for socializing.

Simon made his way towards the door, stepping out into the soaked streets of London. The rain is coming down hard, and judging from the dark clouds hanging low, it's only going to get worse and more gloomy. Finally, something that reminded him of Manchester.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he walked beneath the raging sky, trying his best to stay under the awnings and overhangs whenever he could. Droplets of water began to wet his leather jacket, but he kept walking, deliberately letting the rain soak him to the bone.

Self-preservation kicked in as he turned the corner onto another block; Simon was about to try to flag down a cab. However, his eyes landed on a lone figure, almost blending into the shadows, standing under the awning of some shop, trying to stay dry.

Simon knows he wasn't a good man, sure as hell not a gentleman. So is this sudden surge of concern some sort of sympathy, or is it because of all the times he's played the hero—saving countries from missiles, taking down terrorists, all that stuff—that now he can’t turn it off? He walks, long strides stretched out without hesitation even when he knows he’s more likely to do her harm than good—as evidenced by the growing fear in her eyes, her whole body tensing up like a frightened rabbit.

“Nasty night.” He said, being first for the sake of a conversation. That's new.

“Uh, y-yes, quite a storm,” she stammers out, those big doe eyes of hers flickering up to meet his for just a moment before darting away again.

And bloody hell, if that doesn't just about do him in. The way she tried so hard to act innocent, as if she hadn’t just snuck a glance at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Sweet little thing. It’s enough to set his blood on fire.

“Subway, yeah?”

“Yes, the subway. Though it may be closed by now with the weather.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. The familiar burn and taste of nicotine soothed his nerves, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why he was so bloody on edge in the first place. He had planned to avoid any socializing tonight—that’s why he left the lads so quickly, trying to get back to his blessed silence.

And yet, here he was, in the middle of a storm, talking to a strange bird he didn't even know.

It wasn’t like he was looking for a quick fuck or anything like that—he really wasn’t in the mood for any of that tonight. So why? He took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. Do you enjoy playing savior, Simon? To make sure she gets home safe and sound before a bad man comes?

And who’s to say he’s not the bad man in question?

“Subway's closed, like you said. No sense waiting in the wet.” He threw his cigarette butt into the gutter. “Come on then. Pub's the best place for now.”

The woman shook her head, managing a small smile. “Thank you for the kind offer, but I'll be right here. Best not to trouble you further on such a night.”

Smart girl, he admitted. Turning down offers from a sketchy-looking man like himself—she has a good head on her shoulders. But as he watched the rain pouring down and the wind howling louder, he couldn't help but wonder if her self-preservation only applied to men and not to the bloody storm and the fever she's definitely going to get if she keeps on insisting on staying here.

“Really, I’ll be fine,” she said, trying to force a laugh. “The rain can’t last forever.”

And he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed at her refusal. But there was a crack in her answer—the way she wasn’t entirely sure, the uncertainty clear as day. He knew the kind like her, the ones who needed someone to turn their back on them and walk away to make them think they’d made the wrong choice.

It’s just how some humans operate, and he’s eager to test that theory.

“Suit yourself, love,” he said, watching her eyes widen slightly. "But you'll catch your death waiting in the rain."

Simon started to take a few steps away, counting the seconds in his head. One, two, three…

“Wait!”

When he heard it, he felt a victorious feeling swell up inside. Pausing like some considerate, concerned bloke, he turned to face her, waiting for her to speak.

And when she does, shame leaks from her voice. “I'm coming with you.”

On that stormy night, Simon ends up sitting opposite the skittish bird in a pub, her eyes sweeping around the room with a mixture of curiosity and unease. She looks like she doesn't belong here, probably the first time she's ever set foot in a place like this, judging from the way she keeps glancing at the shelves of liquor bottles behind the bar.

The stranger ordered “something light,” and while he gives in and orders bourbon, his drink of choice for as long as he can remember—a therapist he once saw told him it’s some sort of control thing, the need to stick to the familiar, not the kind that appreciates changes.

As he took a sip of his bourbon, the woman started making small talk. She gave a name. Sweet girl asked about his job and apologized before getting an answer, saying she didn't mean to pry, that she was just making conversation.

Too sweet, he thought. Worrying about small things like that.. How do you manage to get any sleep at night?

Simon says he’s in the military, leaving out details about which part of the military he’s in. She feels obligated, then tells him she’s a ballerina—and he wonders if she sees the differences between them. The stark contrast between her delicate, graceful world and the dark, violent one he’s used to.

It's a shame that you have to cross paths with the likes of him – a man like Simon Riley, who's no better than a stray dog ​​with the need to hold something between his teeth.

Worse still, he's a sweet tooth, too.

And so, Simon managed to fuck you on the second meeting.

Fucking hell… His tongue flicked against your swollen clit, bringing you to climax, tasting your juices against his taste buds. But nothing could compare to when he was finally inside you—the tightest cunt he’d ever had the pleasure of defiling. A virgin – the thought of being the first to breach that delicate, untouched flesh—the faint crimson around his condom like lipstick stains—set his blood on fire.

Tears in her eyes as her nails dug   on his naked back. Pretty girl tried to play tough, trying to hide the searing pain as the head of his cock continues to press into you, walls fluttering in surprise at the unexpected intrusion. Lips parted in a cry that turned into a moan. Then, his name is uttered in the most vulgar way.

“Ah! O-oh, Simon! Simon!”

Something snapped inside his mind—but Simon didn’t have time to care, not when he was buried deep in your warm flesh, watching himself slide in and out of that wet hole like cinematography. Your smaller form flushed and glowing, hair spread in a halo above your head. He held back another growl as you pulsed around him, only to follow with a climax that burned through his entire body.

When it was over, he shouldn't even think about coming back. That's not how he operates; after all, he's the type to jump from one body to the next, never looking back, never a second time.

But the second time happens anyway.

Straight to London after deployment, driving his truck like he has an absolute purpose, like he doesn’t hate the city. He parks in front of a grand Neoclassical building and leans against the door, pulling out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket. He lights it up and waits. He doesn’t know your exact schedule, doesn’t know if you’re coming to work today, and doesn’t know anything about your life outside those two nights. But still, he waits.

As the minutes ticked by, his cigarette began to shorten, the smoke swirling around it. Something wet touched the back of his palm.

“Fuck.” He looked up at the sky, realizing it was starting to drizzle.

Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a rushing shadow. Simon turned around just in time to see you emerging from the building, coat wrapped tight around you as you sneezed. He saw you walking, so rushed, like you got somewhere to be. What's got you so worked up, sweetheart?

You walk fast, as if on a single-minded purpose, eyes ahead but mind elsewhere. And that’s when he sees it—a car barreling towards you at an alarming speed, and you still don’t realize it until the blinding headlights catch the corners of your eyes.

Without a second thought, Simon rushed forward, pulling you out of the road before the red image in the back of his head became a reality. The car blares its horn, and the driver shouts a string of curses before speeding off again. He felt the cold air seep into his airways too quickly, painting him dry inside yet his body wet with a mixture of sweat and rainwater.

“Christ, pay attention will ya?”

At the sound of his voice, you finally look up, snapping out of whatever nearly cost you your life. Simon watches your eyes widen like you’ve just seen a ghost—some sort of apparition that’s just materialized out of thin air.

Someone who shouldn’t be here, and he can’t help but think the same way.

In the second instance, Simon has you pressed up against the kitchen counter, his hands nomadic on your skin, feeling every rise and dip of your body. He groans as your warm, raw walls clamp down on his cock longingly. Once you’re both sated, he slings a wet towel around your inner thighs, and you return his gentleness with a bottle of bourbon you pour into two glasses.

Simon heads out in the morning, but not without letting you help him find his missing device. The damn thing was hiding in the cushions of your couch. He shoves it into the pocket of his jeans, and that nagging, controlling voice (the one that despises changes and relies on familiarity) keeps reminding him to leave no trace, just like he had done with every previous one-night stand.

Against the itch in his brain, he didn't even bother deleting his number from your log afterward. Instead, he let you save it in your contact list.

(The wandering stray dog ​​froze when the door of a house opened.)

“Will you at least call? Or text, if you can. You have my number now.” You say.

(Warm light seeps out from within, bathing his brown eyes in a goldish hue. That stray dog of his has stopped its roaming, has stopped its restless pacing. It loosens its jaw, saliva dripping down its chin. The tension in its body starts to mellow. Something delicious inside. He should have known better than to get carried away—the last time he did, someone kicked him in the shins and hung him by the ribs.

The last time he did, his house was transformed into a gruesome showcase of all he held dear, ending in a bloodbath. His olfactory receptors still remember the scent of iron. Little Joseph’s socks soaked in crimson.

You're just a rotten mongrel, Simon.

But-

That sweet, intoxicating scent spreads like pollen carried by anemo. And before he could stop himself, his legs moved towards that warmth—)

Simon ended promising a text, then disappeared behind your door.

(—like a moth to a flame.)

The pretty girl takes him to a family event—your cousin’s wedding in the picturesque countryside of England. He finds himself surrounded by happy people—people who don’t need to be angry to live. They simply love and are loved, their smiles, laughter, and kisses genuine, fueled by the bonds of affection and not by selfish pursuits.

You introduce him to your cousin—the bride—named Sabrina, then to your aunt, Joyce. For people you call a family, you look pretty wound up tight, sweetheart.

And then, just as he thinks that, your mother comes strolling into the conversation, all smiles and pleasantries. But, he doesn’t miss how the tension in your body skyrockets, your smile turning into something more forced.

Simon knew that. Because he’d been there himself, growing up with a father who was more interested in the bottom of a bottle than he was in his family; the father who taught him to laugh at a dead prostitute because he thought she deserved it—“She’s jus’ some dumb whore, a drug addict. She was hell-bent on a bad end.” Nothing good in that man, and nothing good in your mother either when you throw up everything you’ve eaten after a conversation with her.

Funny how he used to react the same way. Until something changed, that is. The fear and the shame morphed into something else. Fury. Rage.

“Ye need to burn to survive in this world,” and maybe for once in his detrimental, too-long life, the bastard was right. And as much as Simon despised staying angry, he stayed angry because it saved him.

When the big day arrived, Simon stood in front of the mirror and stared at a reflection he didn’t recognize. Dressed in that damn suit he hadn’t worn since God knows when, the jacket clinging to him like a skin that just didn’t fit right. He fidgeted with the cuffs, trying to loosen them a little.

It's like Tommy and Beth's wedding all over again, back when he was his brother's best man. Everything smells just as sweet and flowery as it did then, and it's making him sick to his stomach.

“All set then?”

Simon turns his head at your voice, watching you walk out of the bathroom, your hair styled and your makeup done in a dark and smoky way that suits you so well. Christ, the way it makes him feel.

You spot his tie on the bed, then pick it up and approach him, closing the distance between the two of you. As you stand in front of him, so near that he can feel your breath on his skin, something begins to creep up his chest. It settles beneath his ribs, burning, spreading like a wildfire. But, it's unlike the fury and rage he's familiar with. This one leaves a warmth, a pull towards you that makes him ache to touch you, to hold you.

Simon couldn't take his eyes off you, watching the way your fingers worked in and out to tighten the knot. The way you bit your lip in concentration.

When you ask him to lean down a little so you can reach the back of his neck, he’s made even more intoxicated—the mix of shampoo and soap you’re devoted to, the delicate yet familiar fragrance of your favorite perfume that always trails after you. Sweet, but the kind of sweet that leaves him wanting more, like a wild animal who's just discovered a gourmet feast.

It’s a hunger, a need, to plant kisses on the pillar of your neck and feel the thrumming pulse that lives beneath your soft and supple skin. The ache to hold you, to keep you within his orbit. Something grips his heart—and before Simon can register, he’s leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a fervent, greedy kiss. He guides you towards the bed, his bulky frame poised to envelop your smaller form.

“Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world.”

Made to cry, his pretty girl, by the woman who brought her into the world.

In this world, there are many kinds of mothers. The ones like his, all smiles and kindness, baking good pies and forgiving, perhaps too forgiving. And then, there are the ones like yours—all faux smiles, pretending to be an angel of a mother when he knows full well she’s the reason you turned out the way you did.

Dependent, easy to manipulate, always trying to please everyone. You thought you could maintain a distance from others, but all it takes is a single act of kindness to dismantle them completely—the seemingly impenetrable walls were actually brittle.

A kitten masquerading as a lion, only to purr and melt at the slightest touch.

It annoyed him sometimes, because he knew you deserved better. But it’s also the reason he stayed, he thought. Because he loved playing the hero, especially to a woman who didn’t know any better.

(Something, anything to hold between his teeth for him to chew and tear.)

As you wait in the car, he hurriedly gathers the last of his things, shoving them carelessly into his duffel bag. The embers of anger still simmer within him, but Simon chooses to be the wiser—getting you out of here as soon as possible is a priority.

“I know men like you,” the devil behind him spits. “You think you’re protecting her—you think you’re saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you’ve grown bored.”

And Simon stops. It strikes a chord within him, punches him right in the gut.

Though, he doesn’t say anything. He wants to lash out, to defend himself and his intentions, but doesn’t. What’s the point? He thinks it would be a waste of time, and you’ve been waiting for him in the car for too long. It would just be a waste of breath.

Yet, another part of him knows the real reason.

That she might be right. That she might be right, and he did not like that.

It was always easy to turn away from reality. He pretended to be the wiser man, leaving pointless conversation for good reasons. But the voice in his tainted head always reminded him of what he was made of, what was left of him. He was a rotten man, selfish. Full of desire without the consistency to commit—

Pretending to stay when he knows he is nothing more than a stray dog who loves to wander.

Simon slashes, rips, and kills men as sport; feasting on the raw hearts of women like his own personal dinner, collecting their teardrops like diamonds on his crown. And yet, he has the bloody nerve to think he can keep something as soft as you in his calloused hands without laying a wound.

(A predator wearing the skin of a man.)

A voice in the back of his head began to whisper, telling him to let you go, to walk away before his teeth sank in too deep and caused you even more pain. Before he became too ensnared, too intertwined.

But he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Not when you're sensually rolling your hips on top of him, your jaw slack as those pretty, plump lips make sounds that cause his cock to twitch in his boxers. The sight of your puffy eyes, the soft curve of your lashes, and the furrowed brows. He groans as you grip his thighs, anchoring yourself to him.

The moans you let out—oh, love, what is this? Why does it feel holy when they're sinning? Like some kind of ablution. He is reborn. He is being sent to heaven, and it is between the plush of your thighs—the divine liquid dripping down your folds.

You drag your fingers across the raised tissue of his skin, and he is blessed. He observes as your eyes glide over every part of his body, recognizing the differences between the scars he bears—guessing how they were created. Fire, knives, hooks.

And fuck, angel.

That sickening clench clutches his chest again as he gazes upon your tear-streaked face. This perfect creature is mourning his scarred flesh, once burned and healed, textured. Your lips quivering as you sob.

What are you grieving for, pretty?

Probably thought he was some sort of good guy who didn't deserve this. So consumed by her turmoil, she forgot that every cut and burn meant he survived; he won and survived. Can't say the same about the other guy, though. Not that Simon would—no.

He's too selfish to share your attention.

Because what if mentioning others who died in his hands makes you pity them instead? Something a sweet thing like you would do.

“Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” You ask, and Simon answers in his mind: Why wouldn’t they? “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

“Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,”

Simon was given three primary roles: hunter, judge, and executioner, but you didn’t know this. Nor did you know that the bastards who had caused these scars had long since died in the slowest and most gruesome way possible. That house fire he told you about didn’t spare them like it spared him.

All of this was evidence that he had hurt and killed—a mortal sin, darlin'. But you let another fat tear slip, thin red roots spreading across your sclera.

Oh.

There was always the other side of the moon that Simon never realized until now, until you did. His God—you—are all-forgiving and shed tears because the other side of the story is that he has been hurt and almost killed. So far, Simon has only seen himself in three main roles: hunter, judge, and executioner. Never the other way around: prey, defendant, and victim.

And oh—oh.

The “God” on his pelvis rocked her hips, taking him to many pleasant places—places a sinner would never have the luxury of visiting. The burn inside him twisted into something different—something warm that pulsed in the chambers of his heart and spread and crawled across his chest.

This wasn't the old fury. So, Simon convinced himself this was lust.

The conclusion must have been made in a hurry, or more like in desperation to see past the truth. He tried to bury it in the depths of his mind where he wouldn't have to acknowledge it. But Simon knew lust shouldn't last this long, nor should it leave him feeling invigorated simply because you had smiled at him.

This was—

“Gonna watch a ballet, LT.?”

Simon snaps out of his thoughts, blinking back to reality. Between his bare thumb and index finger is the special pass you gave him a week ago—the same piece of paper Soap was questioning just now. He turns in his chair to face his sergeant, greeted with that infuriating grin of his.

“Didn’t know you were the artsy type.” Soap added.

“You should’ve knocked, Sergeant.”

Soap laughed. “Aye, I did. But you were too busy starin’ at that ticket to notice.”

The lieutenant didn’t respond, just shoved the pass into his drawer, shutting it with a snap. Soap raised an eyebrow, a sign that he was still curious, but had no intention of voicing his questions, at least for now anyway.

“What’s this about?”

Soap's grin faded. “Ah right. The Captain’s askin’ for ye.”

Johnny watched those brown eyes flicker to the flip phone and then to the skull glove on the table as Simon considered something. Unfortunately for him, that was all—the damn balaclava prevented him from seeing the slightest glimpse of expression that might have been hidden behind it.

“I’ll be there,” Simon said, dismissing Soap with a wave of his hand.

The sergeant narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips in that way he always did when he was trying to figure him out. Then, he walked toward the door, twisting the doorknob. Just when Simon thought he was finally gone, Soap stopped, pausing for a moment.

“Yer obsession is gettin’ worse, sir,” he commented.

At first, Simon didn't understand what he was referring to until he followed Soap’s gaze, and his own brown eyes landed on his duffel bag. Where the skeleton charm you bought him was hanging.

Simon didn't say anything. The door closed with a click.

The voice of his old therapist echoed in the back of his head, saying how he had this need to always be in control, that he hated feeling like he was losing it, like there was something out there that he couldn’t predict or manage. That’s why he clung to what he knew and hated changes.

But as he sat in his office, surrounded by the same four walls, the same desk, the same chair, the same bloody routine he had followed for years, he felt something twisted itself inside him, grafting itself into the tissue of his scars.

It triggered an itch in his skull.

Simon stood up from his chair, jaw clenched, as he strode over to where his duffel bag sat. That voice was louder, the words he had heard playing back like they were on a cassette tape—“there’s gonna be things in life that are out of your control. An’ that’s okay. You don’t have to be in charge of everythin’.”

“An’ when that happens, you just have to let it happen. You can’t avoid it forever, Lieutenant. Avoidin’ it doesn’t mean you’ve solved it—”

Clenching his fists, he tried to deafen himself, only to end up inviting another sickening voice. “Simon me boy, ye need to burn to survive in this world,” at that time, he didn’t understand what the hell his old man meant by that, searched the whole world for answers.

Now, after all this time—after mistaking it for passion, for fury, for lust—the answer stared back at him, daring him to face it. He let out a scoff, thinking how that was the most uncharacteristic word to ever come out of that man's mouth. Fuck.

“—it just means you’re signing yourself up for more pain—”

Simon yank the skeleton charm off his bag, the metal clinking against the zipper as he tears it free. He exhales, his chest empty after he’s done what he’s best known for.

“—an’ self-destruction.” The voice finishes.

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Falling Away With You | Ch. 44*

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Magnus... prepares you for your date.. I guess.

Author’s Note: WE’RE BACK BABYYYYYY

Thanks so much to everyone for being so patient during my hiatus!! I definitely needed some time to just slow down a bit (and to reiterate from my recent update, things still will be slow! But the time off was nice), and I really appreciate the kindness and support in that decision :3 It means so much to me, I wish I could better express it to y’all.

I hope that this is a good chapter for jumping back into things! I did my best to recap the past few chapters a little bit for those of you who need a small refresher, as well as incorporate a small time skip (like, 2 weeks tops).

If you're not into that, I hope the smut makes up for it <3

As always, I hope you enjoy, and I’d love to hear your thoughts! x Also, please see the comments for another author's note once you finish reading this chapter ^^

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev (if you want to skip my Author Updates(tm), go straight to chapter 40!) | Next

Seb had first seen magic as something spooky and surreal. Nothing more than a new and weird thing that fuzzied up the lines between the fiction he took comfort in, and the burdens of reality. It was a completely understandable take for him to have felt that way, and I had been surprised that he was so chill about introducing it back into his life through me! 

That said, I thought he’d still keep it to a minimum. 

But!!!

Ever since our visit to Magnus a few weeks ago — again, a visit that held the intention of Seb merely becoming a little reacquainted with the arcane, as we’d both expected him to keep his involvement small — learning magic has morphed into a bit of a passion project for him. A means to become as badass as his magic-wielding OCs and shit. It’s rad as hell. Kinda hot too. I dunno what it is about magic, but it does things to me, dude.

When Seb isn’t programming, and we aren’t spending time alone together, he’s now enthusiastically re-familiarizing himself with his rusty arcane skill set as well as indulging in some new knowledge. And likewise, when I’m not farming, taking care of Cannoli, or spending time with either of my partners alone, I’m honing my rapidly-increasing skills as a mage.

The necklace Welwick gave me has been working wonders for my abilities. Like, I now have that sixth-sense Magnus vaguely talks about from time-to-time, for when something magical is nearby. That could just be a result of my growth as a mage in general, but I think it’s more fun to imagine this little trinket siphoning a bunch of cool shit into me.

Also, clairvoyance doesn’t come to me so randomly anymore, aside from the occasional flash of something in my head! It’s getting a bit easier to tell the difference between dreams and a distant reality during my sleep, too. Similarly to… well, fucking everything else related to magic, I guess, it’s sort of a gut-feeling above all else.

This nifty little thing has also allowed me to practice my psychicism in the way that Magnus always had to resort to. For him to predict the future, he must conduct a spell and perform a weird ritual of sorts. He saves it for when things feel “off,” like when I moved to Pelican town… and for when he gets eager, and wants to know something right then and there. Like when he predicted when I’d be coming over to drink that nasty-ass potion that all but confirmed I’m a mage.

The process requires copious amounts of mana – another reason why he so rarely does it. But because of the extra help from my necklace, as well as my seemingly natural talent as an oracle that I’m assuming Grandpa passed down to me in some way, it doesn’t drain me nearly as much as other spellcasters of my skill level. Even Magnus and Camilla seem to get a bit more nauseated by the process than I do.

Throughout all this, all things romantic have been settling in too; things have gotten much more cozy. At the start of this journey in a polycule of sorts, the concept of openly loving two people in the same room was nothing short of intimidating. Now, it’s as natural as breathing. And while I wouldn’t say it seems like Seb and Magnus are becoming intimate with one another, they’ve definitely been spending more time alone, which makes me happy. Reassures me a bit as well. It’s a nice reminder that I’m not some sort of… I dunno. A selfish hussy. Or something. This concept still feels novel to me in some ways.

Both of my lovers are vague about what happens during their one-on-one meetings. Can’t tell if something’s going on, or if they just know the concept intrigues me, and they agreed to fuck with me a bit. Y’know, get my imagination going, for funsies. I mean, Seb’s crush on the older wizard is still as strong as ever, so I’m secretly hoping that they’re preparing to do some canoodling of their own.

I wish I knew what was going on in those pretty heads of theirs… seems as though mind-reading just isn’t gonna be a thing for me.

Whatever. I’m not bitter.

(Yes I am.)

Speaking of canoodling – I’m headed to Magnus’ place in a few minutes. It’ll be the first time we’ve been alone together in our past few meetings, since Seb can’t make it until later. The poor, emo cave goblin was up working until early this morning. Magnus apparently wants to take me somewhere new today, so it kinda works out, I guess!

After my usual morning routine of farming (the pumpkins feel like they’re taking forever to grow in, but they’re almost there!) and eating, I quickly showered, dried my hair, tossed on some light makeup, and dressed myself. I went for an almost-ankle length, dark and rusty orange, pleated skirt; a cozy and thick, cream-colored, mock neck sweater; and a big, olive-green ribbon to thread around my half-up hairdo. It’s getting to the point in autumn where it basically feels like winter, so I should be safe from sweating too much in all this. 

Once I’ve grabbed my satchel and a jacket to complete the look, I make my way outside. The first thing I do upon exiting the building is remember that I haven’t checked the mail yet. I probably should, just in case Magnus or Lewis have anything important for me… ugh. 

Unable to resist, I go out of my way a bit first, stomping on some leaves that have blown over from all the trees surrounding my land. Cannoli, who has been outside most of the morning, runs over to join in. I scoop him up with an evil chuckle while he’s distracted. 

“Gotcha, punk.”

He meows at me, seemingly pissed, but then purrs after I pat a few smooches onto his head. I hold the little fella in both arms as I open my mailbox with outstretched fingertips. I grab its contents, nudge it shut with my elbow, and sit on the stoop to read what I’ve gotten, with Cannoli staying put in my lap.

“One from Lewis…” I rip it open. “S’just about Spirit’s Eve, nothing major,” I mumble to myself as I shuffle through the envelopes. “Some Joja shit… gross.” I scoff and tear that one in half as Cannoli abandons me, giving me some more space to work with. 

The next letter is in a bright blue envelope with deep purple stars outlining it, each twinkling as though electrically or magically lit. I would normally assume based on the fancy casing that this is from Magnus, but it isn’t labeled, which tells me otherwise. I don’t really sense anything, y’know, magicky about it either. Weird. 

I stand up and go inside, tossing the Joja ads in the trash and before plopping the rest of my mail onto the table. I sit down and cautiously open the blue one, not wanting to damage the pretty stationary too much. Now that it’s in my hand on its own, I can feel that there’s something other than writing inside of it.

The paper itself is blue, this one lighter and more vivid than the envelope. The ink is a deep indigo and the words look like they were written with a sparkly gel pen. And beneath it all is a tiny, gold-painted walnut, still in its shell.

That doesn’t seem very safe to eat. I toss it across the room to the small waste bin between my bedside table and the door, hoping I make the shot. It lands in with a satisfying plink. 

Alex Mullner could never ball like this. He’d weep – no, he’d propose – had he seen such skill!

…Gross. I don’t want that. 

After shimmying that thought away, I turn back to the azure note. It reads:

“We can do great things, you and I.

Forage a rainbow shell and leave it in the train station Lost and Found box if you’re interested. I’ll make it worth your while.

I’m counting on you, kid.”

It’s not even signed by anyone… This is ominous as hell. Part of me wants to ignore it, but I’m also kinda scared not to, y’know? What if something bad happens if I don’t comply or find a way to respond? I mean, this person knows where I live, and is likely keeping things anonymous for a reason. 

Or… it could be some sorta creepy jape by Sam or something, and I’m overthinking as per usual.

I’ll think about that more later… for now, I just wanna get to my purple-haired boyfriend.

I shuffle through the rest of the mail once more to double check that nothing is too urgent before heading back outside.

_______________

“Oy,” I call out as I enter Magnus’ tower, immediately turning my gaze toward the coat rack instead of looking for him. “Where—“ As I adjust my line of sight, I find Magnus just a few feet away, a cheeky glare on his face directed towards me as he waters his houseplants. “Oh.” I blush, embarrassed by how annoying my loud intrusion was. “Hi.”

Magnus doesn’t seem to mind. He chuckles, places down his watering can, and strides over to greet me. “Good morning, my heart.” 

That pet name never fails to get me all tingly, oh my goodness. 

Before I can tippy-toe to indicate that I wanna kiss him, he’s already bending down to my level and scooping my face into his hands. I match the action, cupping his rosy cheeks. Unexpectedly, Magnus kisses me hard, causing me to stumble back against the door. 

“Mmf!” I squeak into the kiss before meeting his intensity. Makes him smile. 

He doesn’t show any signs of wanting to stop, our teeth tapping together a bit as he continues to intertwine our lips and tongues while we find a compatible rhythm. Releasing a palm from my cheek, Magnus grips the door frame behind me before dragging his opposing palm further from my face, weaving his fingers in the hair near my nape. The action prompts a dreamy hum from me. 

Yoba. I want him. 

As the wizard begins to kiss down my jaw and onto what little neck I have showing, I breathily murmur, “What about those plans you had for us?”

“You needn’t worry about that,” he mumbles against my earlobe, taking his hand away from my hair to lower the collar of my sweater. “We have plenty of time.”

He eagerly dives back down, leaving light kisses and love bites on my neck. My hands weave into his amethyst tresses as I giggle. The sound comes out airy; in contrast, a syrupy laugh escapes Magnus and vibrates against my skin.

“Mag–” A harder suck that’ll definitely leave a darker mark just below my jaw cuts me off. “Ah~” 

Smirking against my skin, Magnus prompts, “Go on.” 

God, he sounds so smug. It’s so sexy. I subtly shake my head and roll my eyes, a smile never leaving my face. “Nevermind,” I whisper, bringing his mouth back to mine. 

Magnus lifts me up in one swift motion as he accepts my affection, carrying me away from the entrance bridal-style. I open one of my eyes to take a peek at where we’re going. As I do so, he pulls away to watch his step while we descend to the basement.

“What’re we doing down here?” I ask, knowing this could go one of two ways:

Either Magnus is teasing the shit out of me, and he’s taking me to his hall of portals so we can go… wherever; or, he simply decided he wanted to get frisky somewhere other than his bedroom.

“You’re a smart girl,” he answers as he nudges the door open with his foot. His irises are like rubies. “I’m sure you’ve pieced it together already.”

“Maybe I just want some confirmation.”

“Maybe you need to practice patience, my dear,” Magnus teases back.

“Maybe I’m just not a patient person, my dear.” Hm… feels weird to call him something other than Magnus or wizard. I don’t hate it, though.

I drown the tinglies in my tummy by hoisting myself a bit higher with the help of Magnus’ sturdy shoulders, leaving a few open-mouthed kisses on his neck. The action prompts goosebumps across his skin. 

“Heheh–” I begin to evilly laugh at his reaction, but Magnus releases me from his grip, scaring the everliving shit out of me. “Ack!” He catches me mid-air using magic, allowing me to settle myself down without getting hurt. I glare at him the entire time, pretending my heart isn’t beating a bajillion times per minute. “That wasn’t nice,” I chirp with my brows furrowed, barely above a whisper. 

It’s Magnus’ turn for a menacing chuckle as he leads me to the couch where I usually do my studies; the one closest to the western wall of the room.

“I thought you would enjoy the thrill.”

“Clearly you know nothing about me, wiz.” 

Magnus’ eyes — which had shifted to their natural maroon again by the end of our short journey — are crimson once more. As we slow to a halt in front of the sofa, the absolute skyscraper of a man cages me in, his hands clutching the purple back piece of the furniture and forcing me to stumble into a sitting position. Wide-eyed and with heat creeping between my thighs, I lean back and look up at my partner. 

Then, a sadistic, almost lazy grin creeps across his features while he leans down, moving his hands to grip my sides once his previous stance probably grew uncomfy. He’s almost entirely crouching to level with me. 

“I know more than you realize,” he points out. Ominous.

I fidget with my long sleeves as Magnus’ lips draw closer to my ear, his breath on my neck and face sending a shiver down my spine. 

His hands slide lower while he kisses just below my earlobe, before continuing, “How many people out there, at this very moment, can say they know precisely what makes you squirm?” His voice is low and gravelly, and he punctuates his sentence by squeezing my hips hard, pulling a sigh from me. Proving his point with ease.

This prick actually waits a moment for me to answer his question, his head still hovering closely next to mine. “Well?” 

It takes me a sec to register any form of language until I blink out of my horny fog and respond, “I mean… not many, I guess.” My brain has kinda just blocked out any sexual partners I had prior to Seb and Magnus, given none of them could hold a candle to these men.

The elemental grows quieter as he proceeds, “Alright. And how many can claim they’ve known you far prior to your present lifetime?” His hands drag off my hips, now resting on the red velvet cushions. 

The cockiness, greediness, and complete possessiveness of his follow-up makes me shudder. Has me choking back embarrassing sounds and stuff. Makes it hard to speak.

“J-just you.” 

“Veeery good.” Yoba, so much praise… my poor kinky heart can’t take this. “In that case–” Magnus brings his face to my view, and manually tilts my head by the chin. After drawing closer, he whispers against my quivering lips, “I’d say on the basis of those two factors alone that I know you better than most, wouldn’t you agree?”

I inhale shakily. He grins knowingly. “Yes…” I could barely hear my own voice. It’s as if Magnus has me under a spell… but he doesn’t this time. He’s just that captivating.

Mirroring my volume – fucking tease – he lilts, “Good girl.” Then, he pulls away, leaving me yearning for more kisses.

Fuck.

Standing upright, he puts out his palm for me to take. My head feels swimmy as I oblige without question, and he replaces my spot, urging me to try to straddle him. Doesn’t work. Skirt’s too long.

“Um… hold on…” 

I get up from the half-kneeling position I was in and simply remove the skirt altogether. Magnus chuckles as I struggle to find more words, feeling the hot redness of my cheeks spread down my neck. Why do I feel so shy right now? 

Beaming with his brows raised, he claims, “How bold of you.”

“What else was I gonna do?” I quip. It came out meeker than I’d wanted it to, but Magnus pays no mind to that. 

He shrugs, taking both my hands in his as I settle back onto his lap. His erection is apparent now that I’m sitting on it. Mmmmm. 

“I merely assumed you would roll up the fabric.” 

I close my eyes and lean forward further to rest in defeat against his silk, navy button-down, before copying his shrug. He has a good point. 

Magnus, sensing my unease, exhales jovially through his nose, before reassuring me, “Worry not, dear.” After unweaving our fingers, he wraps his arms around my waist. “Your haste is more than welcome.”

I grip the fabric of his shirt in both fists and groan into it. “T’still embarrassing though…” I complain, my voice muffled by the fabric.

Magnus moves his hands, now cupping my ass in each one. “Let me shift your mind away from that, then,” he purrs above my ear. 

I tilt my head so that my face isn’t being consumed by his chest anymore. “How the fuck are you so smooth?”

“I don’t necessarily mean to be.”

It makes sense, I guess. He’s been around for a thousand – or two, or whatever it is – years. He’s had more than enough practice. “Of course not…” 

I sigh. Then, I slip just under his face, leaving featherlight pecks along his jawline. He giggles a bit. “That tickles…”

“Yeah?” 

My instinctive laughter comes out menacing and gremlin-like. I attack him with more little kisses, paired with ten wiggly fingers against his sides. And oh boy, I’ve never heard such high pitched or loud noises come from this man.

“C-cease yourself!” 

“Never!” I proclaim, nearly cackling at this point. I’ve never seen him laugh this hard, and god, it’s fucking adorable. 

I keep myself planted atop him and do my best to dodge his swats towards me as he lays himself down, keeling over. Magnus lets out a snort that puts down my guard for a moment, and before I know it, he’s finally grappling my wrists, taking claim of them on either side of his face. The action pulls me down, bumping my forehead into his.

Magnus winces while I let out a quick and half-assed “Ouch!” before laughing a little more. I rest my face in the crevice between his head and our arms to recuperate. I gotta breathe oh my god and my abs hurt. 

When I come back up, Magnus is giving me sort of a funny look. Like, he’s still blushing (eyes included) and smiling, but I feel like I’ve never seen this exact expression before. 

“What?”

His lips curl up further before shaking his head slightly and answering, “I… your laughter is so beautiful.” My eyes widen a little, as does my smile. “I love you so much. Come here.” 

As the words leave his mouth and before I have a chance to verbally return the sentiment, he’s removing his hold on my wrists and tugging me into a deep, slow, and much more passionate kiss than the almost-feral ones we shared upstairs. It still leaves my tummy fluttering and my heart racing just as hastily. 

Once we grow a little more heated, I find myself accidentally grinding against Magnus’ arousal a bit; and once Magnus realizes it as well, his hands find refuge on my butt again, aiding my movements.

Sucks how that weird potion I drank to become a mage made me more athletic and cardiovascularly healthy, but it didn’t actually fix any of my joint issues. Even just this gentle rocking with my legs spread out this wide is making my hips cramp up a bit.

“Sore?” My partner murmurs into the kiss.

“How’d you know?”

“T’was a gut feeling.”

“That sure is a fancy way of saying you were in my head again.”

“Damn.” He breaks, an amused huff escaping him. “I almost fooled you.”

I sit up and very lightly punch his chest a few times. Asserting my dominance, for sure. 

After a few hits, I glare down at him, palms pressed against his chest. Magnus glares up at me, thumbs tracing small circles against my sides. He scans my body as he gnaws his lower lip.

This is hot.

He eventually speaks up, his orbs red as can be. “Are you finished throwing your little tantrum?” His usually sweet tone was replaced by something still honeyed, but more gravelly and domineering.

That was hotter. Fuck.

I swallow thickly and nod, subconsciously stimming with one of the lower buttons on his top. “Yeah.” 

His eyes drink in my body again. “Perfect.” Next, Magnus tugs me by my hips, giving me a little lift to bypass his arms as he all but plants me on his fucking face.

“What are you–” He cuts me off with a bite to my inner thigh. A heady sigh leaves me. 

With his pupils blown wide, he suggests, “This is surely easier on your hips given how much less you need to stretch them, no?”

“I-I guess.” I hide the lower half of my face in some of my hair. I feel so vulnerable. In a good way, but still. I don’t think I’ve ever ridden someone’s face before. I voice this concern into his brain, too timid to say it out loud.

Magnus repositions our forms slightly, giving his neck more comfort as he lets his head lay down flat against the cushion, with a little room to spare between his scalp and the arm of the sofa. I peer back at his legs. His left is dangling off the opposite end of the couch and probably bumping into the bookshelf a bit, while the right is planted on the floor beneath us.

“Would you like to try?” The wizard finally asks as I bring my gaze back to his.

I take a sec to contemplate it. On one hand, I feel weird being so exposed. On the other… How is this really any different from being eaten out while I’m laying down? Some fingers of my left hand are twirling a soft strand of Magnus’ hair. Those on my right are still tangled in my own (h/c) tresses, which continue giving my mouth and chin some privacy. 

Despite the need to stim out my nerves, I still nod my answer to him.

After being given the OK, Magnus begins to softly kiss my inner thigh. In between, he orders, “If you want to stop, let me know.”

“‘Kay,” I smile. 

Gently, Magnus tugs my panties to the side and lowers me down. After a single, lingering kiss to my lower lips that’s already got my head feeling funny, he spreads me open and licks a gentle, pointed-tongued circle around my bud. I’m instantly turned to putty, it’s a little embarrassing actually. The small grip that I had on his hair tightens, and I rock slightly into Magnus’ proud hum, accidentally throwing him off-track. I shyly meet his view to apologize to him, but before I can say a word, he’s finding a better spot for his tongue. 

“Fuck,” I moan, my eyes fluttering shut. 

My fingers drop my hair and move to my mock-neck, using that to fidget instead. This feels so fucking good, but my anxieties over the positioning still haven’t died down yet. 

I abandon the clutch I had on the wizard’s hair and rest my hand on the arm of the couch behind his crown. With the way his nails are threatening to dig into the curves of my hips, I have just enough leverage to let him lick how he wants to while moving myself accordingly. 

The slight change in position startles him, I think — he telepathically checks in with me, “Are you doing alright?” 

“Yes, Magnus~” I verbally respond. The way he growls at my enthusiastic reply sends a palpable wave of excitement through me. 

With each swipe of Magnus’ tongue, I lose myself further. My hips grind with more confidence, and my sweater-filled hand starts drawing downward on its own, now leaving only my chin beneath my collar. I curse under my breath while he adds some more pressure, and let out a startlingly loud mewl as he repositions his left hand to nearly meet his lips, sliding two long digits inside of me. That can’t be comfortable for him by any means with the way his arm is contorting, but I’ll be lying if I try to claim that it doesn’t feel fucking incredible. 

“Holy shit,” I cry. 

He moans against my clit. It sends a vibration through me, and I moan as I lower myself a little more, pushing his fingers deeper inside of myself. Is this what people who are able to ride dick feel like?!  

“F-fuh–”

“Is it too much?” he nonverbally inquires.

“N-noh god, I love you, y-you’re perfect, Iloveyou.” Each word proves to be more of a struggle to get out as I feel myself beginning to peak. He chuckles beneath me, adding fuel to the fire. “God, Mag~”

I can’t physically move any faster – again, bad joints and all that jazz. He’s the captain now. There’s a subtle pounding in my ears, and I can’t tell if it’s my adrenaline, or blood flow, or whatever, or if it’s something else outside of myself entirely. I pay no mind to it, not caring what’s happening around me. Too fucked-out.

“So close,” I breathe. “Please, I–”

“Wait juuust a little longer, sweetheart.”

I whine in frustration. “W-why?” I ask, just barely above a whisper, looking down while complying by slowing myself to a halt. His eyes crinkle, indicating that he’s smiling, while continuing to lick my pussy and probe in and out of my cunt. 

He doesn’t give me an answer.

“Oh, wow.” 

Seb does?! 

Well, kinda.

I yelp, head bolting up and left towards the source. Standing near the entrance to this room is fucking Sebastian, his dark indigo eyes darker with want, and his grin just as shit-eating as ever. 

Magnus still hasn’t stopped. 

I look back and forth between Seb and Magnus a few times, my mind racing and chest heaving and throat dry as I can’t verbalize any of the confused thoughts that I’m having amidst what’s happening all around me.

Seb is slowly drawing closer to us. Magnus is working me even harder, as if he’s trying to pry my orgasm out of me now of all times. He can’t curl his fingers much from this position, but he can sure as hell fuck me with ‘em. I try to steady the slight bounce each thrust of his digits causes to no avail.

…Yoba above, did they fucking plan this?!

Magnus coaxes a moan out of me, but my eyes stay trained on Seb. His grin widens and a soft chuckle emits from him as he listens and watches in on the action. 

When Seb reaches the couch, he places a palm on the armrest before leaning forward to almost match my height. He then removes my hand from its hold on my sweater and takes my newly-exposed chin between his thumb and forefinger. In turn, I instinctively grasp his wrist, probably squeezing him a lil’ too hard while I try to prolong my pleasure as per Magnus’ orders.

“You said you were close, yeah?” Seb asks.

“Y-yeah,” It comes out whiney, and Magnus picks up his pace. “Fuck.” 

My eyes threaten to close, but I keep them locked into Seb’s. I don’t miss the way his view trails down to my tits, clearly a little enthralled by their slight jiggling underneath my sweater. My prior concern morphs into a breathy laugh. I look down to the wizard, and he’s still focused on my face. Reading my every reaction with those sparkly, red eyes. God. 

“Please Magnus, I—“

Seb’s grip on my chin strengthens, pulling my view back to meet his. “You wanna cum, yeah?”

“Yes, please, Seb~” Yoba, I sound so desperate. I don’t care anymore though.

“Be a dear and cum for him, then.” 

This is so absurd. 

Not in a bad way, by any means, but just… holy shit I wasn’t expecting this.

Near-immediately after Seb’s command, I clench around Magnus’ digits, grinding against his taste buds and urging him further inside of me. Probably smooshing his face a little bit with my thighs too. Sorry, dude.

Between his hasty pokes and the delicious alternation between licking and sucking, my high hits me like a fucking train. It makes me feel a bit lightheaded until Seb catches my lips with his own to ground me. 

After however many otherworldly seconds of whining against Seb’s tongue and probably suffocating poor Magnus, the feeling simmers away. Once he senses I’ve settled down a bit, Magnus repeats his earlier motion in the opposite direction — he softly repositions me away from his face and nearer to his lap, before wiping my excess wetness from his features.

Neither of them say anything. I look between the two of them, who are approvingly peering between each other and myself. 

When I find my voice again, I speak up. “So, like, what the fuck—” 

“Before you ask,” Seb starts, “this was mostly coincidental.”

I furrow my brows. “What?”

Magnus sits upright, and just when I’m about to shift some more to give him some room, he scoops me up and repositions himself so that his spine is against the back of the couch while my legs are draped across his lap. I cross my arms and lean my shoulder and head against his chest, waiting for more of an explanation. 

“He requested to borrow a book to assist him in falling asleep,” Magnus informs me.

Seb cuts in to add with a slight hand-raise, “Drank too much coffee overnight and figured my own books at home might just distract me too much.”

I nod subtly. “When did this happen?” I ask them both.

“When I got here,” Seb claims, “ready to just steal one anyway.” 

Seb and Magnus share a cheeky glare with one another. Seb’s is paired with a menacingly goofy smile. He then wraps around the front of the furniture so that he can sit next to Magnus and behind me. I crane my head so that I’m able to see him, albeit upside-down. 

Sebby continues on, while taking advantage of the angle of my throat to murmur against it. “But when I heard those pretty sounds of yours…” he trails off, planting an open-mouthed kiss against my goose-bumping skin. He knows I’ve gotten the gist of it by now.

This lil perv definitely asked Magnus outright if he could come down here to see me in action.

“I hope it hasn’t made you uncomfortable,” Magnus chimes in.

“No, I mean, it was surprising, but like…” I sigh, laying down, my upper body now splayed across Seb’s while my lower body remains on Magnus. I can’t bring myself to meet their eyes as I softly admit, “It was… god that was so cool.” 

Both of them chuckle, Magnus squeezing my thigh as Seb scruffs up my hair a bit. I do my best to flatten it back into place, then direct my attention towards the wizard, lazily pointing at him once a thought pops into my head.

“I’ve got a question for you.”

He cocks his head slightly. “What is good?” 

God, he’s trying so hard to be ~hip.~ He’s so cute. I do my best not to laugh at him.

“Are you straight?”

“I doubt it.” 

He seems to ponder the question further for a moment while I give Seb a sneaky thumbs up. As if to tell him, without a single word shared, “Maybe you have a chance with him too!” Seb rolls his eyes and nudges my hand away, a playful smirk on his face.

I draw my eyes back to Magnus once he continues, “I’ve predominantly had women as partners for as far back as I can recollect, but it’s not as though I’m opposed to relations with other genders.” I glimpse at Seb, unable to hide my mischievous grin. I could never be an actor. “Why do you ask?”

“Eh, just curious.” 

“That devilish smile you’re wearing tells me something else.” 

Damn, he saw right through me. Who woulda thunk it?

I completely dodge him.

“Don’t worry about it.” I pair the phrase with some finger guns.

“So,” Seb diverts the conversation, “would you mind if I just crash on a couch? That way I don’t have to worry about making the trip back here later.”

“Go right ahead,” Magnus smiles warmly at him. Then, he turns his attention to me. “Are you ready to go?”

I look down at my form. I’m still skirtless, and I’m probably fucking sopping given what just happened. Plus, there’s spit down there too now. Gross. 

“Uh. Lemme clean up real quick.” I shakily crawl off my partners and gather my skirt in my arms. “Should I meet you back down here, or..?”

Magnus shakes his head before answering verbally, “I’ll follow you in a moment.” 

“You got it.” I turn to Seb, scurrying over to give him a kiss. “See you later, nerd.”

“Yeah whatever.” Rolling his eyes and laughing, Seb pulls me back down with one finger hooked into my collar. After a soft peck, he says, “Love you. Have fun with the geezer.”

Magnus leers over at Seb. “Quiet, child.”

I snort at the exchange. “Love ya too, Sebby.” I part with a two-fingered salute before making my way upstairs.

[arrow-guy]

Within the Ashes (1/??)

Summary: You’ve spent your life working for someone else. You watch their back, you protect them, but you’re left feeling empty and unfulfilled at the end of the day. What happens when a freak accident transports you to a different dimension, very nearly identical to your own?

A/N: Please understand this has been in my head for almost a year at this point and started out with the reader being an LMD without knowing it. That’s definitely not the situation with the story now, but please know it’s been through a lot of Idea Workshopping lmao. Also, the version of the FF that’s in this story is definitely a very Fanfiction-ified version, but it’s my coping mechanism, so I decide who’s good and who’s gay. Thank u for coming to my preface, please enjoy the first chapter.

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong​​

Pairing: StevexReader, background Spideytorch

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Fire, explosions, extreme injury (burns, cuts, contusions), gross descriptions of burns, rapid healing, canon typical violence

“Reed, I honestly don’t think we should test it today.”

“And why’s that?”

“Promise you’ll take my concerns seriously? Because you’ve been a dick about it every other time.”

Without looking away from his screens, Reed suggests, “How about you tell me, and I’ll do my level best to keep an open mind.”

“Fine.” It’s not much, but she knows it’s the best she’ll get. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”

“Another gut feeling?” He finally turns his head to look at her, eyebrows raised dramatically. “Is that really enough to put off this test?”

“We live in a world where magic is real and you’re questioning a gut feeling?” She folds her arms. “There’s evidence that proves the existence of a nervous system in the stomach, Reed. You know this. Gut feelings are a thing, and very seldom are mine wrong. And you’d know this if you ever cared to actually listen to me.”

Reed stretches his neck so that his face is just slightly too close to (Y/N)’s. “Name one instance.”

“Two weeks ago when you were tinkering with that vacuum chamber. I told you something was wrong with it, you brushed it off because it was a gut feeling. Then it blew up.”

“Oh please-”

“I had a six inch shard of glass stuck in my shoulder!”

He rolls eyes and his head snaps back to his shoulders. Reed waves her off. “You healed.”

“I wouldn’t have had to heal in the first place if you’d listened to me.”

“We’re still testing the transport today.”

“Seriously?”

“I… respect your gut feelings, but we can’t allow that to get in the way of the progression of science.”

(Y/N) scowls. “This is exactly why no one wants to work with you.”

“You want to work with me.”

“I took the job as a favor to Johnny.”

“And yet it’s been eight years.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “Eight years of me getting blown up and lugging shit all across the countryside.”

“I heard that.”

“Good.”

(Y/N) grabs her empty mug from her work table and stalks down to the kitchen. Sue is sitting at the bar when she walks in. She waves in lieu of a greeting and keeps her eyes trained on the tablet in her hand.

(Y/N) pours herself a cup of coffee and stares down at the full mug. The realization of what the rest of the day might hold hits her and she’s just about ready to give up. She tips her head back, covers her face, and groans.

“I think your husband’s trying to kill me.”

“Well that’s nothing new,” Sue says. “What’d he do this time?”

“He wants to test that interdimensional transport he’s been working on. I have a bad feeling about it, but I don’t have the knowledge to back it up, so he’s just brushing my concerns to the side.”

“Well that doesn’t sound good.”

“He always ignores me. And every single time, I’m the one caught in the blast. Literally.”

“I know, (Y/N), I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) dumps sugar and cream into her coffee and sighs. “If I don’t come back from the lab today, Reed did it.”

“Duck and cover if something starts sparking.”

“We’ll see if I even get the chance.”

(Y/N) takes her coffee, drains half the mug in one go, and goes back to the lab.

Reed doesn’t seem to have noticed her absence, so she simply takes herself and her coffee to her table and waits for instructions.

“It’s not supposed to make that noise, right?”

“It is not,” Reed confirms.

The thunking noise coming from the transport grows louder and (Y/N) resists the urge to rub her temples. Reed doesn’t appear to be particularly concerned as he stretches across the length of the lab, searching for the source of the sound.

“Something must be loose,” (Y/N) says. “Is it on the body?”

“Not that I can see.” A sheet of metal shears off of one of the machine’s rotating arms and (Y/N) yanks him back just far enough that it misses slicing off his nose. “Thank you.”

“So something’s wrong with the arms,” (Y/N) posits. “The most dangerous part of the machine.”

“It would seem so.”

“I vote we turn it off and try again next week.”

“We don’t know if that’s enough to hinder its performance.”

“It’s enough to hinder our performance as living, breathing people.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Reed creeps closer to his machine and (Y/N) cringes at the way she immediately follows behind.

“It’s securely locked away with the part of me that wanted to be a superhero.” She pulls him out of the way of another flying scrap of machine. “Because, contrary to popular opinion, just because I heal quickly doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt when I’m injured.”

“Hm, maybe we should look at that when we’re finished here.”

“Maybe you should find a new assistant when we’re finished here.”

Reed says something about her not being any fun, but she doesn’t register any of it. Her eyes are drawn to sparking near the base of the machine. Another chunk goes flying at them just as some of the sparks are sucked into the vent below the arms. (Y/N) is struck by the flying machine chunk as she shields Reed from it. She winces and hears an unidentifiable function of the transport stutter as another plume of sparks is sucked into the vent. She grabs as much of Reed’s body as she can and throws him towards the door, limbs flapping behind him, right as the entire machine explodes.

The force of the explosion propels Reed out into the hallway, but (Y/N) is caught in the blast. There’s a bright white flash and a blood-curdling scream and then all that’s left is the fire.

Sue is sprinting up the hallway with Ben and Johnny on her heels just as Reed manages to get his feet under himself again. All he can do is stare.

“What happened?” Sue demands. “Where is (Y/N)?”

“She saw what was happening before I did. She threw me out of the lab, but…”

“Reed,” Sue’s voice is deadly low. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t listen,” he says. “The transport malfunctioned and (Y/N) was caught in the blast.”

“Johnny,” Sue is very careful to keep her voice steady. “Put out the fire.”

Johnny simply does as he’s told. He disappears into the fire to absorb what he can and stomp out the rest. Ben surveys the progress from just outside the doorway. He says something about calling Peter and Johnny agrees from somewhere deeper in the lab.

“I screwed up, Sue.”

“No, Reed, you killed our friend. Your employee, might I add. And not even two hours ago she said you were trying to kill her.”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort.”

“I know that, but you get so blinded by your work that you can’t see when you’re putting people in danger.”

Johnny appears in the darkened doorway of the lab, tears rising in steam from his cheeks. “She was my friend, Reed.”

“I know-”

“She took this job because I begged her to!” Johnny shoves Reed, hard, into the wall. Flames lick at his fingers and Ben gently separates him from Reed. “But now she’s gone and I can’t even find her body in that warzone you call a lab.”

Reed frowns. "You didn't find her body?"

"Wh-that’s what you’re focusing on?

“Answer the question, Johnny.”

He scowls. “No, I didn’t find her. She was probably incinerated."

"Are you sure you didn't overlook anything?"

Johnny's shoulders shake with his anger. "I know what charred human remains look like, Reed. She's. Not. There."

Reed raises one shaking hand to his forehead and turns to Sue. “It might’ve worked.”

“What?”

“The transport. If there’s no body-” he rushes past Johnny and Ben without another word. Sue follows silently after him.

“That’s it, I think he finally lost his marbles,” Ben mutters.

“It doesn’t change the fact that he killed (Y/N).” Johnny wipes his eyes and turns to follow Reed to the lap. “God, Peter’s gonna flip when he finds out.”

“Don’t think about that right now,” Ben says.

“Hard not to,” he mumbles.

“I know but, if Reed’s machine did work, she could still be out there.”

“What if this is the time she doesn’t heal? You see how burnt it is in there. How could anyone survive that?”

“Dunno, but (Y/N)’s strong. If anyone could do it, it’d be her.”

Sue reappears in the doorway. Her hands and feet are covered in ash.

“There’s no sign of her,” she says. “We sifted through everything we could. There’s only a spot with slightly less ash than the rest of the room.”

“So you think Reed’s transport worked?” Johnny asks.

“I don’t know what to think. For everyone’s peace of mind, I hope it did. Then we might have a chance to track her down and bring her home.”

Johnny nods and drags his hands through his hair. “I have to make a call.”

Sue rubs his arm and nods. Johnny stalks off down the hall.

“Boss, there’s a disturbance in the electrical field in your lab.”

“Any extra information on that?”

“Based on the readings, it seems that someone may be teleporting directly into the tower.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the best word I could find.”

Tony frowns. “I’m headed up now. Find Steve and have him meet me there.”

“Of course, boss.”

Steve is already in the lab when Tony arrives, pacing along the far side of the room. There’s a bright ball of light forming in the middle of the lab and Steve’s eyes don’t stray from that spot as he moves, even when Tony strides through the door. Tony just stops and stares at the light.

“How long has that been here?” Tony asks.

“It was here when I walked in.” Steve squints at the light. “What is it?”

“Not sure. F.R.I.D.A.Y.  says someone’s trying to teleport into the tower.”

“Teleport?” Tony nods. “Does that kind of tech actually exist?”

“Not that I know of, but we’ve seen some pretty weird shit in the last ten years. It’d be stupid to just write it off.”

Steve stops pacing and jerks his chin towards the light. “Looks like it’s getting bigger.”

The ball of light slowly, steadily expands. When it’s about as wide as Steve is tall the lab fills with a terrible, painful scream and the light grows too bright for either man to keep their eyes open. The scream grows louder and Steve tries to shield his eyes in an attempt to find where the noise is coming from, but to no avail. Then, suddenly, the screaming stops and the light disappears followed by a distinctly sticky thud.

Tony rubs his eyes and Steve blinks light spots from his vision, willing his eyes to adjust to the room again. When they do, he visibly recoils from the vaguely human shaped mass of burned flesh on the tile in front of him.

"Oh God," he says. "Is that a person?"

----------

Part 2

How’s that for a first chapter? I’ll be very honest, I’m excited to finally be posting this one. It’s been a bit of a brainchild of mine for the better part of a year and a half at this point, maybe more. Pandemic time doesn’t work right.

As always, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter! What do you think of the reader? Her relationship with Reed and the rest of the FF? What do you think will happen in the next chapter? Be sure to reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

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[silver-pieces]

mandalorian’s mercy part nine

Previously ‘Are You Cold?’

Pairing: Alpha!Din x (afab) omega!fem!reader

Word Count: 7k

Synopsis: Yearning, desire, and consequences.

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut (MF, masturbation, dirty talk, omegaverse heats & ruts, breeding kink, sub/dom dynamic) a/b/o dynamics, tw: food

A/N: I just want to say again, thankyou to everyone for all of the love & support on this fic, it has made me so so happy 💕. I’m planning to post part 10, the finale, soon. As always, if you like my writing, please reblog. I hope you enjoy...

Divider ❊ Masterlist ❊ More Din ❊ Taglist

Part Eight < Series Masterlist > Part Ten

You’re thinking about him again.

In your hand sits the communicator Din gave you, the smooth curved shape now so familiar it’s etched in your brain. Your thumb runs over the buttons as you let your mind wander, drifting off to memories of him, of your Alpha, the attractive sound of his deep laughter and the warm secure grip of his hand around your waist.

A soft nudge to your side takes you out of it. “Hey.”

You blink. “Sorry, Anuma.” Shit. You run your hand over your face and stifle a groan. There’s still so much work to be done.

The Twi’lek sitting next to you knows better than to touch you again, but she peers at you with those sharp, discerning eyes, and although most of her features are masked, somehow you know she’s frowning. “You need to nest.”

A pang of fear goes through you. That word. You shake your head. “No, no, I’m not there yet.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “Take the water out then, you’re clearly of no use in here anymore.”

Heat rushes to your face. You look down at the table; the large pile of coin that should have already been counted up and stashed away still untouched. You stand and back away from the corner desk. “Sorry. I’ll - water...”

She regards you with a disapproving look, then turns back to the task, shaking her head and muttering to herself in Twi’leki.

You step up to the kitchen sink, the sound of clicking credits filling the room as she takes over your job.

Her office is still nothing but a small corner desk and a safe tucked into the nook of the kitchen. It’s makeshift, but there’s so many other things in this den that take priority when it comes to upgrades.

The kitchen itself has been a massive project, a job that took you most of the month to complete. Now, setting your eyes on the results of your hard work, you feel hopeful. It’s not great, but it’s a lot better than before.

The tap water is luxuriously cool. You splash some on your face to cool down, providing a brief respite from the heat clawing beneath your skin. You stare at your flushed reflection in the water and try not to burst into tears, or laughter.

The mood-swings that accompany your heat seem worse than last time. It’s incredibly draining, helping out with the den, one minute feeling happy and flirty and lighter than air, and the next, yearning for your Alpha hitting you like a punch to the gut until you feel like sinking to the floor and crying your eyes out.

No, it wasn’t like this last time. Last time, you were freshly off the blockers. This time, you’ve had a whole month without them.

As you go to leave the room with the tray in hand, Anuma blocks your path, a bottle of pills in her hand. “Please, take one.”

You brush her aside. “We’ve had this conversation.”

“There’s no need to torture yourself without an Alpha.”

You grit your teeth, hand on the doorknob, wishing she wouldn’t call it torture. “Save it for someone in need.” You open the door and step out.

“And what will your Alpha think?”

You halt midstep, some of the water spilling over the edges of the cups. Stars dammit, why did you ever tell her about what happened with Din?

She rounds you, arms crossed. The cloying scent of incense fills your lungs. “You already lied to him about your location, what do you think he’s going to do when he - ”

“It’s not about him,” you protest.

She gives you a look.

You sigh, gripping the tray a little tighter. “When I see those blockers, I see myself a month ago, completely unprepared to go into heat and desperate for blockers which you didn’t have. Sure, I had a trustworthy Alpha in the end, but what about the next Omega who walks through those doors?”

She casts her gaze down to the floor and sighs.

“I came here to help,” you continue. “So, please, stop tempting me with them. We only have a limited supply.”

She hesitates, before pocketing them. “I just... don’t want to see you in pain.” Flicking her eyes back up to you, you see a vulnerable side of her she rarely allows anyone to see.

You force the part of you that’s afraid deep down, and square your shoulders. “We set up the nests for this very situation. I promise, I’ll be fine.”

You already lied to him about your location - 

You push her voice out of your head. You can’t think about that, not without being sucked into a downward spiral of anxiety and guilt and hormones.

People take water from the tray as you make the rounds through the den. Though the room itself is fairly big, it’s overflowing with Betas and Omegas seeking refuge every night. Still, the place has been improved a lot over the past few weeks.

For one, it smells a lot nicer now. Where there was once a dirt floor and simple fabric partitions, there’s now clean beds and privacy screens.

Your tray is light as you reach one of the employees, an Omega woman who showed up a few days ago and has been working here since. She never gave anyone her name, but you feel like you can trust her, like her eyes convey an air of strength and certainty.

She’s folding sheets and humming when you find her.

“Hey you, thirsty?” you say as you approach with the tray.

She stiffens, then turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“That tangy scent,” she says, approaching to take a drink. “Normally we’ve relocated any Omega that smells like that into one of the nests. Are you sure you should be here, boss?”

“Not the boss,” you insist.

She shrugs, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a long drink.

You shift on your feet. “I don’t want to nest,” you confess. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Finishing the water, she sets the empty cup back on the tray and wipes her mouth. “You want my advice, boss?”

You nod.

She looks at you straight. “Stop waiting for it to feel right. Omegas cannot afford to be picky, and a nest is never going to feel right without an Alpha to make it for.”

An Alpha to make it for. Your knees go a little weak, and you can’t help the way your thoughts flick to him again. That’s it, little Omega. Make me another nest. His voice, clear as day.

A bolt of heat lunges through your veins. It’s sudden and brutal, and you gasp in pain. “Oh - stars!” The scent of your slick permeates the air.

“Shhhit,” the Omega curses, lifting the tray from your hands. “I think it’s here, boss. Come on and we’ll get you to a nest.”

Your stomach turns. She leads you away from the den, towards the back door which used to be a storage room. Now cleared and divided into private nesting spaces, it serves as a place for Omegas in heat to retreat to. Maker willing, the den would always have enough blockers to prevent anyone from going into heat, but there are always situations outside of your control.

The makeshift nests are designed to be scentless and comfortable, but also practical and cost-efficient. The intention behind it was to ease the pain of an untended Omega in heat, but now, all you feel is insulted as you’re lowered into one by the girl who calls you boss.

Nests are instinctual - special. You never made one before Din.

“No, it’s not right,” you gasp, sweating with heat and aching to your core. “Not without him here.”

“Try and sleep through it,” she says, fixing the sheets of the nest in a way which annoys you.

“Won’t help,” you murmur, curling in on yourself as a cramp hits you, and already you feel your eyes pricking with tears. “I’ll just dream about him.” Like you’ve been doing every night since you left him.

She narrows her eyes at you, standing up. “Who is ‘he’?”

Tears wet your cheeks. “Just an Alpha.”

“Ah.” Pity flashes in her eyes.

“What, no advice on how to get through this without him?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t know.”

You nod and curl back in on yourself. Her scent isn’t offensive, but like most Omega scents, it doesn’t appeal to you, and you find having her here both irritates you and distracts you from your heat.

“You know the drill,” she says from the doorway. “Meals will be delivered through the hatch. There’ll be morning checkups, so try to cover up after breakfast. And try and keep the noise down if you can.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Leave me alone now.

She shuts the door.

You bury your face into the stiff, odourless pillow and let out a whine. Heat floods between your legs. Your channel contracts around nothing, and your muscles tense and groan in dissatisfaction.

You’ve been through your heat without an Alpha before, but this time is different. This time, you know what you’re missing. You have memories to torture yourself with.

It’s too late to go on blockers now. You chose this. But you didn’t expect this level of desperation and pain so soon, so brutal. Fuck.

Soon, the heat gets too much, so you divest yourself of your clothes and dig yourself further into the nest, rubbing your needy scent on the sheets as much as possible.

Time loses meaning.

The room is dark and bare and silent.

The memory of his scent calls to you - a phantom scent that you remember well now that it’s missing.

It hurts.

It hurts so much that you feel paralysed by the pain and the discomfort, unable to move until there’s a knock on the door and food pushed through the hatch.

The scent of dinner food crawls over your skin and invades your nostrils, causing your instincts to go haywire. Wrong.

The thought of eating is about as unappetising as it could possibly get, but there’s a quiet, filtered voice in your head that reminds you that you need to keep your energy up, so you wolf it down in miserable silence and then shove the empty plate back through the door and lean forward to rest your head on the cool durasteel, temporarily abandoning your nest.

You breathe deeply, trying to calm your emotions, but the urge to cry is getting harder to resist. It’s hard to believe you’re only a few hours into this torture.

When the food has settled and you’ve cooled down as much as possible, you turn back to your nest, eyeing it in the dim light with disdain.

Your clothes lay strewn to the side, discarded over your nest in a way that feels unsatisfying. You’re not sure it will help, but maybe if you incorporate them into the nest properly...

Your hands move quickly as you fixate on the task you’ve given yourself. There’s enough slick slowly dripping between your legs that you decide to avoid putting your nice clothes in that region, instead opting to layer the fabrics nearer to your head so you can breathe in the scent more. It’s no Alpha scent, but it calms the territorial side of you to mark this place as your own.

Your hand catches on an object in one of the pockets in your clothes. The circular device can only be one thing - the communicator Din gave you.

Din.

A wave of sudden need hits you, overcoming everything else, and you find yourself abandoning your task, eagerly taking the communicator out of the clothes and propping it on a pillow almost reverently.

With a press of a button, the device lights up and you’re able to go through your encrypted messages. You bite your lip, anticipation rising.

Are you safe?

The latest message from Din, sent tonight, appears on the screen.

You melt at his words, and for that matter, slick is gushing from your pussy worse than before. You have to close your eyes and breathe through the pain for a moment.

The same message has been sent to you every day, but it never comes at exactly the same time, which is why you’ve resorted to carrying it around with you. It’s become your most treasured possession, the damned device burning a hole in your pocket as you help run the den.

Shit, the timecode indicates this was sent hours ago. This might just be the longest you’ve gone without responding. And if Din suspects something is wrong, he might try to find you on Minnoth.

Those thoughts are vague, distant worries that briefly concern you before you get swept up in your heat again. Your mind whirls, your instincts screaming at you Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, and your finger hovers over a second button. The forbidden one. The one he told you not to touch unless it was an emergency. Live holo.

This is an emergency, the hormonal side of you argues.

But then he’ll find out. He’ll know you didn’t go on blockers, and he’ll know you left Minnoth. He might come looking for you.

Your thighs squeeze together at the thought, because fuck, the thought of him coming for you is enticing, and suddenly you’re struggling to remember why you shouldn’t press the button.

It’s not encrypted, Din will freak out, and besides, you’re supposed to be avoiding talking to each other as much as possible. All very logical, important arguments.

But right now, you don’t care about any of that. There’s a deep, instinctual feeling within you, urging you to call him and tell him everything.

Your Alpha will make everything okay.

You press the button before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Stars, what am I doing?” you mutter to yourself, as you wait for him to pick up. Your mind’s gone blank, and you can’t remember why the little voice in your head is crying this is a mistake! Dread grows in your gut, but so does excitement, and need.

Then the hologram finally lights up, bathing the room in a soft electric glow.

Your breath stops as you take in the image of Din, live. He’s clearly sitting, leant forward over his holo, wearing nothing but a loose undershirt and his helmet.

“Omega?” comes his voice, urgent and gruff, and you could weep with happiness. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You go to speak, but can’t find the words. You’re sitting in your nest, all alone and in heat, slick seeping into the sheets beneath you. He can probably see your nakedness. Fuck, it’s really him. “Din,” you breathe, taking the communicator and laying back into your nest, “I miss you.”

There’s silence for a second. His chest rises and falls. “Why did you call me?” he finally says.

You whimper, and a few tears slide down your face. “I need you. Need you here, with me.” In my nest.

He huffs a breath. “Omega.” There’s a growl in his tone that sends shivers down your spine.

You moan as a fresh gush of slick begins, and shift your legs and arch your back on instinct. “Oh...”

“Are you...”

“Yes?” You turn your head back to the holo, to him. He’s leaning closer now, like he’s trying to see you better.

“Are you in heat?”

“Yes,” you repeat, and let out an involuntary sob. The tears have started now, and they probably won’t stop for a while yet.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and the holo shakes and blurs as he moves on the bed. “Fuck.” His voice comes out muffled.

“Din?” Your anxiety grows, that little voice warning you in the back of your head that you did something wrong. But you can’t remember what. You need to see him again. You lean in closer to the holo, biting your lip. “Din I - I need to see you, please - ”

“I’m coming,” he says, but his voice sounds farther away. A few seconds later, the image stabilises, and you can see him sitting in the pilot’s chair, operating the control panel. “Fucking stars, Omega, wait for me.” He operates the ship, urgently tapping buttons and flicking switches. “I’m a day away from Minnoth - shit. Don’t let anyone else in. Where are you staying?”

You bite your lip.

“Omega, answer me. Where are you?” he growls, using his Alpha command. It’s supposed to be less effective on calls, but you still feel the urge to obey coming over you.

“I’m at the Omega Den,” you confess shakily. “On Coruscant.”

He growls. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” you whimper.

He rears back a little. “I don’t understand. Yesterday you said you were safe.”

“I was - I am - but I - ”

“You think you’re safe at the den, without blockers,” he finishes for you, a growl in his voice that hints his disagreement.

You nod. “I helped set this place up.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not making sense.”

“Sorry,” you say, heat rushing to your face. It’s hard to think properly - everything would be so much better if he was here. “Can you come?”

He shifts focus back to the operating panel, switching buttons as though to change course. After a few moments, he leans back in his seat and you can see him take a deep breath by the rise and fall of his chest. He shakes his head and murmurs low, “Coruscant is three days away.”

Your heart sinks. “Oh.”

“Fuck, little thief,” he growls, running a hand down his helmet.

A whimper escapes you, your insides clenching. He’s mad, and it’s your fault.

Shaking his head, he leans forward and flicks a few more buttons. His voice comes out distant as he leans away from the holo. “I’m setting the Razor to a hard burn. You stay inside until I get to you, okay? It’s not safe.”

“Okay,” you nod, trying to sound not as broken as you feel. “Are you angry with me? I just thought...” You moan as the needy ache in your core grows unbearable again. The pain is getting worse, causing your breaths to come out short and shallow as you twist and writhe in the nest, losing sight of the holo.

“Omega?” His voice is muffled again - distant. But warmth spreads through you at the sound. “Omega - talk to me.”

In heat and vulnerable, you stand no chance against his commands. “Din?” you call out. Your eyes open, and you catch sight of him again.

He’s sitting on the edge his bunk from the looks of it, bracing his elbows on his knees in a way that makes his biceps tense. “I’m right here,” he growls. “Talk to me.”

“Okay,” you breathe, eyes straying around the room. “Uh, I made a fucking terrible nest.”

“You nested?”

“Wasn’t my idea,” you murmur, picking at the sheets and rubbing your thighs together.

He growls. “Whose idea was it?”

“Anuma’s.”

“Who is Anuma?”

Your core clenches at his possessive tone. “Friend,” you whimper. “Beta.”

“Fuck.” The hologram shakes slightly, Din’s arm reaching down out of frame to his lower body, and you instantly realise he’s feeling himself.

Your body burns with need. “Alpha,” you cry out, half aware and half in a delirious state of heat and pain. The nest feels too hot and too cold at the same time, but you know it would all go away if Din was here, covering your body possessively with his, scenting you with his pheromones.

You turn over onto all fours and raise your ass up into the air, legs spread wide, without even thinking about it. “Din...”

He grunts, and you hear him shifting positions, but in your movement you lost track of the holo again. “Are you fucking presenting right now, Omega? Move the holo so I can see you better.”

Your eyes fly open. Where is it? You don’t want to move from your position - but you need to obey your Alpha. You scramble through your nest until you find the source of the glow, and whimper as you set your eyes on him again.

He’s shifted the view of the holo down, and you are so consumed by the sudden sight of his fist around his cock it sends a rush of slick to your cunt.

“Please, please, I need it,” you whimper, desperately following the movement of his hand up and down his length. “I’m so wet.”

“Fuck yes,” he groans. He jerks his fist faster, forearm tensing deliciously with the movement. “Fucking best feeling ever, pushing inside your wet cunt.”

Your body clenches, a whine pouring from your throat before you can stop yourself.

“I know,” he pants, “I know, Omega, it’s killing me too.”

“Need you inside me!”

“Show me.”

You blink at his order, then move, twisting onto your back and then taking the holo down your body, pointing it towards your pussy. You move so fast you barely even register what you’re doing - everything is on autopilot now, nothing except your heat and your Alpha. With your legs spread open, you give him a clear view of the wetness between your legs. “Can you see?”

You peer at him, and while you’ve been moving, so has he. He’s kneeling, the position perfect for him to hold his cock out in front and jerk himself off, the display giving you an up-close view of his hips, pelvis, and thighs.

“Yes,” is all he says, the word a deep grunt. He’s going faster now, furiously fucking his fist to the holo of you, and your legs spread wider for him.

The sight is erotic. You can almost feel each thrust as he begins jerking his pelvis, fucking into his fist. The knot at the base, already swelling, teasing you so bad your cunt feels ridiculously empty.

“Please fuck me,” you beg desperately, tears welling in your eyes again. “Please, Alpha.”

He growls in response, the sound broken up by the jerking of his hips, and it almost sends you over the edge. “Touch yourself,” he commands.

You instantly put your hand on your pussy and run a finger through your slick. Jolts of electric bliss emulate through you, and you start going faster, working yourself frantically, needing more more more - 

“Greedy,” your Alpha says, jerking himself off to the sight. He sounds both furious and amused and your body reacts, like it does to everything he says, with more slick.

“Not enough,” you breathe.

“I know.”

“Need your knot, Alpha.”

“Keep going.” He sounds desperate now, and it sends shivers down your spine. He's big and hard and ready to knot you and the sight is an exquisite torture.

You moan, circling your clit and spreading your legs as wide as you can for him. “Cum. Cum inside me.”

“Fuck yes, Maker,” he groans. “Want to knot and breed you, Omega. Fill you up with me, sink my teeth in your neck, split you apart on my knot - ”

“Din.” You start to come, realising he’s gone into rut and it’s exactly what your inner Omega wants more than anything. You lose your grip on the holo but it doesn’t matter because you can still hear his deep groan when he comes as well, sending you further into bliss.

As you ride it out together, he rambles praises and promises like an Alpha in rut is compelled to do, and it’s perfect.

Mentally, you’re in bliss. Physically, however, you’ve never felt emptier.

Laying in your nest in the aftermath, you blink slowly and reach around to find the holo again.

He’s standing now, peeling off his shirt and shifting things around the space as though getting ready for a rut.

When he turns back to the holo, he catches you watching him, and growls, leaning down towards you. “Again?”

With a shiver, you nod.

Across holo, you tease orgasms out of each other, one after another, until you’re soaked in ineffective pheromones and sweat.

First on all fours, presenting. Then kneeling so he can see your tits. Now on your back again because you’re getting exhausted. He gets off on the commands, and you get off on obeying them.

“That’s five, little thief.” Din pants.

You lift your hand from your slick pussy and try not to wince as another wave of heat overcomes you for a moment, filling you with nausea and desperation. You need more, but your inner muscles feel abused and sore from your meagre fingers.

A tear falls down the side of your face. “Why aren’t you here, Alpha?”

He sucks in a breath. “Omega...”

“I know.” You wipe your tear away and roll over in your nest, burying your face in your own scent. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“Don’t talk like that.”

You bite your lip and roll over again to face him in the holo. He’s laying down, naked except for his helmet, watching you. “But I’ve fucked everything up.”

“Omega, don’t.” He sounds torn. “Not while I can’t be there to comfort you.”

More tears fall, even as you wipe them away. “Fuck, I’m sorry. My hormones are a mess without you.”

He groans and rolls on his back, looking up at the ceiling. “When I find you, we can talk. Exchange stories. And I will want to know. Everything, Omega.”

You nod solemnly.

“But, right now?” His voice lowers. “I couldn’t give a fuck about any of it. I missed you.”

Your heart soars.

The sound of someone knocking on the door interrupts you. The hatch opens and a food tray slides through. "Hey boss, breakfast.”

Breakfast time already? It feels like the time has flown by, and yet, there’s still so much more of this you have to go through without your Alpha. Two and a half fucking days. Any appetite you may have built up leaves you at the thought. You push yourself up to look at the dish.

“What is it?” Din asks.

You lay back down in your nest, peeking up at your holo. “Nothing, just breakfast.”

He snaps his head toward you instantly, and his voice comes out a growl. “Someone saw you?”

A rush of heat floods through you at his tone, and you quickly shake your head, shifting your legs to relieve the pressure between them. “No, no, there’s a food hatch.”

“At the den? Where are the others?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“It’s okay,” you start, giving into the urge to please your Alpha as much as possible. It’s impossible to ignore how attractive his growing protectiveness is. You’re struggling to form sentences, too distracted by hormones stirring up your heat. “They have private nest spaces now, in case of emergency.” You bite your lip and shift in your nest. Maker he looks so broad and strong laying out on his bunk, one arm bent back behind his head, flexing his bicep. When you see him next, you’re going to bite him.

“Smart,” he grunts in response, sounding slightly more relaxed.

“I need you to fuck me.” The words are out of your mouth before you can think about it.

His growl is instant, and dangerously low, and you watch in eager anticipation as he leans over and grabs the holo, staring at you through his visor. “You need to eat your breakfast first.”

You sigh. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Then do it, Omega.”

“Why should I? There’s no-one here to make me.”

“Are you disobeying me?”

Oh. You don’t respond, frozen by his words.

“Omega.”

You whimper.

“Eat.”

And just like that, you’re getting up to retrieve the tray. As you return and sit back down in front of the holo, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause. “What about you?”

He tilts his head. “I'll be fine.”

You frown. “But you need to eat too.”

“I don’t want to leave you. Not while you’re in heat.”

Your heart melts for him, but you can’t let him get away with this. As you slip a spoonful of breakfast gruel into your mouth, you summon all the dominance you can muster while in heat, swallow, and glare at him. “You’re in rut, too, if I’m not mistaken. Cover the holo while you eat, and I’ll talk to you so you know I’m still there.”

He tilts his head at your display, folding his arms. “You’re cute. I’ll be fine.”

You glare harder, but maker, he’s stubborn. You sigh, and, tapping into your Omega nature, beg. “Please, Alpha?” you ask, giving him pleading eyes. “I need you to keep up your strength for me.”

He stares at you silently, but you notice his arms losing a little of their stiffness.

“Please,” you beg again.

He gives a shake of his head, and sighs. “Don’t... don’t beg like that... that is unfair.”

You laugh. “Good to know.”

“Eat your breakfast.” The holo goes shaky as he gets off the bunk. “I’ll get something now.”

“And you’ll stay on the call?”

“Yes.”

You watch the holo closely as you eat. There’s something so domestically fulfilling about eating together, and like watching one of the most interesting holovids in your life, you end up absent-mindedly snack on your breakfast food while watching him methodically prepare his meal with all the precision of the bounty hunter who tracked you down in that backwater hotel.

By the time he sits down to eat, you’re almost finished, setting the food tray aside.

He speaks to you gently. “I’m covering the holo, but we can still talk.”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He reaches for the holo, and then the image disappears.

You lean in. “Din?” You call, just to check

“Yes,” comes the low sound of his voice.

You smile, and lay back in your nest.

“Talk to me, Omega.”

Wandering your hands along the fabrics of the nest, you close your eyes and imagine you’re next to him. But when you open your eyes, he’s still not there, and it hurts. Sighing, you roll onto your front and stare at the blank device.

“I thought about calling you every day, but the live holo... you said someone could track it?”

It takes a moment for him to respond. “Yeah, they might.”

Your stomach clenches. Ending contact with him is not an option you can even consider, and yet, you worry. “Am I... in danger?”

The clattering of cutlery crackles through the speaker. “No.” The speaker picks up a slight catch in his breath. “I hope not.”

He’s worried. Concern overtakes you at the thought, and suddenly you’re thinking clearly. “You know what, yeah, it will be okay. We set up protections here, even if someone does... come looking.” You nod confidently to yourself.

“Protections?”

The curiosity in his tone makes you perk up. “You want me to tell you about them?”

You can hear the slight smile in his voice as he response. “Yes I do, little thief. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

Heat rushes to your face, and like a criminal confessing, you begin to explain in detail all the various projects you’ve been working on over the past few weeks without him.

All conversation ends as soon as Din reappears in the holo. You’re a whimpering, needy Omega in heat, and as he sees your reaction, he growls out a command. “Present.”

Stars, you’ll never get used to his voice, even through the vocoder and over holovid, and even without the command, you would eagerly obey him.

But as you go to position yourself on all fours for him, a gentle knock sounds on the door.

You freeze.

“What is it?” your Alpha growls, his thickened, hard cock taking up the entire frame of the holo as he strokes it up and down.

More raps against the door. “Boss? You covered up? It’s checkup time, I’m coming in...”

Shit! Checkups after breakfast, how could you forget? Your eyes dart around the nest as you take in the scene. Maybe it wouldn’t matter if they knew you about the holo, but the territorial side of you doesn’t like it, and right now, that’s the part that’s in control.

There’s a beeping as the Omega on the other side of the door punches in the unlocking code.

Your insides clench, because fuck, your Alpha will have to wait. “Just a moment!” you call out, sitting up and scrambling to get things in order.

“Omega.”

You snatch the holo and hold it close to your mouth so you can whisper. “They’re coming in to check up on me.”

“What? Who?”

“Omega. I don’t know her name, but I trust her.”

He growls. “You don’t need her.”

“I know.”

“You need me.”

“I know, Alpha,” you breath, your hormones flaring at his possessiveness. “I’ll get rid of her as soon as possible, but they won’t leave without doing a proper checkup.”

He jerks his head, as if trying to come to terms with this. You can see the tendons in his neck tense as he clenches his jaw.

You bite your lip to keep your reaction at bay.

“Fuck. I can’t stop it,” he growls angrily, “...but if she touches you, Omega, I will kill her.”

Maker. “She won’t,” you assure him breathlessly.

He nods, and you see the image of him move as though he’s walking around, pacing as he watches.

You tuck the communicator beneath a fold in your nest, and the holo image of Din disappears. Your stomach drops in despair at not being able to see your Alpha, so deep into your heat.

Lifting the thinnest sheet on your overheated form, you clear your throat and call out to the Omega.

“Come in.”

With a beep and a click, the door slides open, and the Omega who calls you boss stares down at you with a raised eyebrow. “Bad time?” she asks.

“Always.” Your pussy gives out a needy throb, missing the attention you were about to give it moments earlier.

She snorts. “I’ll be quick then. You okay?”

You nod.

“Good.” She spreads her hands out, open. “Anything you need, now’s the time.”

“I’m fine,” you start to say, before eyes widening as you remember something. “No-one has come asking for me, have they?”

She frowns. “No... You expecting someone?”

You breath a sigh of relief. “No, no, just paranoid. Thanks.”

“Right,” she nods, eyeing you curiously, before turning to go. “I’ll keep an ear out.” And with a slap of her hand on the number pad, the door slides shut again.

You move instantly, frantically fumbling through the nest for the communicator. The holo lights up with the image of him pacing back and forth with his form tense, arms folded, and head lowered.

“Din,” you breathe, the needy ache between your legs growing.

He stops pacing and snaps his head towards you.

You swallow. “She’s gone.”

He comes close to the holo until only his lower stomach is in view, his hardness standing at attention. “Present,” he snarls.

His dominance sends a rush of slick between your legs, a whine rising in your throat. You follow your natural instinct to present, getting on all fours, arching your back down low, and spreading your legs so he can see everything.

For a moment he says nothing, and there’s just the static sound of his panting.

Is he stroking himself? “Alpha, please,” you moan, slick running down the inside of your thigh.

“You want my cock inside you, don’t you?”

“Yes!” you tip your head back, rocking yourself on all fours. “Please!”

“Fuck, so do I. I want it so bad and you’re right there and I can’t.”

You rock back more, whimpering. “I’m so empty.”

He groans.

“Please, Alpha, please.”

“Just... just finger yourself.”

Disappointment floods through you, even though you know it’s the best you can do for yourself right now. Stiffly, you reach a hand between your legs.

“Show me your slick.”

You part your pussy more for him and run a finger through it.

“Fuck. I have to taste you again.”

You bury your face into the nest as your fingers begin working your pussy. “Oh.” A moan escapes you.

“When I find you,” he pants, “I’m going to have you against a wall again.”

You moan louder.

“And then bent over something.”

“Yes.”

“Closest fucking waist-high surface,” he snarls.

You grit your teeth as a wave of pleasure moves through you. “Oh fuck, oh please!”

“My teeth on your fucking neck.”

Bliss fills your body at the thought. “Claiming me,” you breathe. “I want you to.”

“Uh huh,” he grunts.

“I mean it, Din. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for weeks.” And it has been. The entire time you’ve been away from him, all you’ve been thinking about, is being with him again. It feels like where you belong, and you’ve been dying not being able to tell him in person.

“Me too,” he rumbles, voice low and soft, and warmth blooms within your chest. “Me too, little thief. I...”

You swallow back your relief. Thank the stars, you would never have had the courage to just come out and say it if you weren’t in heat, but now, he knows, and he still wants it too.

“I’m so close,” you moan.

“I see that,” he pants.

You spread your legs wider for him. “It’s all for you, Alpha. All of it.”

“Shit,” he curses, panting louder. “Then come for me, Omega. That’s an order.”

You reach the peak of your orgasm with a cry of his name, submitting to his order like the good Omega you want to be for him.

“Ah, fuck, I need to be inside you,” he groans and pants as he comes, and you look down between your legs to see him on the holo, his cock still in frame as he grips his knot, bent forward kneeling on the bunk and shooting his seed onto his sheets.

A second orgasm wracks through your body at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to receive his spend inside you right now and fulfil exactly what your body is craving. Instead, you can only watch in desire and despair as it all goes to waste.

As your legs give out, you roll over onto your front, perching the holo on a pillow in front of you. Din has his head buried in his sheets, and as you watch, he pushes himself back up into a kneeling position, his bare chest glistening with sweat. His cock is already hard again.

“I meant it,” you say.

The blue pixels of the holo shift with slight movement of his helmet. He nods. “So did I.”

The aftermath of your heat comes too fast and too slow all at once. You could talk to Din for days and not get bored, but you’ve been breathing in nothing but your own pheromones and scent for days, and your skin is crawling with the urge to shower.

So when your new Omega friend knocks on the door next, you finally muster up the energy to get up.

All of your sheets are stained with slick. Without much else choice, you find the least offensive one and wrap it around your sore, naked form, and trawl your way through the den.

It’s not until after your shower that you remember your communicator is still in the nest.

You rush back, fully dressed and cleaned, and rummage through the nest until you find it - out of charge.

It’s unclear in your memory when exactly the holo cut out, between talking to Din, or during your sleep, but your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of Din seeing the holo end for no reason, and realising you were gone.

You plug it in to charge and wait anxiously for it to turn back on.

Finally it lights up, and you find a message waiting for you.

Stay.

You almost laugh.

I’m not a dog, you respond back, and then add, Yes, Alpha.

“Boss? Boss!”

You turn around and find the new Omega rushing into the room, eyes wide. “There’s a Mandalorian here to see you. An Alpha.”

You stand. “Did you see him?”

She shakes her head. “Anuma warned me. She’s talking to him now, I think.”

You nod. “Best to stay inside.”

“It’s him, isn’t it?” she asks. “The Alpha you were mumbling about in your heat? He’s here for you.”

Heat rushes to you face, and you brush past her. “Maybe.” You hope so. “Go to the others. No-one goes in or out until Anuma gives the go ahead. Full lockdown, just in case, okay?”

She nods, getting that hard look in her eyes, and turns down the hall on your orders.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Then, closing your eyes, you try and slow your heart beating its way out of your chest. If it’s Din outside... fuck it. You can’t bear another second behind this door.

You push down the handle and step outside. The air isn’t much better than within, and as you fill your lungs with that familiar dirt-poor street scent, you pick up the calming tones of Anuma’s beta scent, and then, the Alpha’s.

Your eyes fly open.

Paz Vizsla stands on the darkened street, one hand on his blaster as he talks down to a very furious looking Anuma.

“I have no interest in shutting down your operation.”

“What operation?” Anuma shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It happens suddenly - the breeze shifts, and the bounty hunter catches your scent. He stiffens and raises his visor towards you, noticing you peeking out from the door.

Fuck.

Then, movement out of the corner of your eye - a second figure emerges from the shadows.

There’s a scar down his face, but in the light, you immediately recognise him.

Cold fear runs down your spine. It’s the Alpha, the one who came to collect you. You should run.

A wicked growl erupts from his chest. He grins. “There she is.”

Paz glances back at him, and nods.

Part Eight < Series Masterlist > Part Ten

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language and violence Warnings: Choking (kinda) Summary: Local feral human makes a friend, tries to sleep next to local mean vampire, then gets a taste of their own medicine Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!

3: Haunt Me Dearly

What a lovely crimson mess I’ve made, you think, watching as the last of the bloody water drained from the bathtub. There were still several splashes of red along the sides, where you had leaned on or otherwise touched. Frowning, you considered whether or not to clean up after yourself. Surely it wouldn’t be one of your captors doing the cleaning? In that case, you think, I don’t want to make any enemies out of the servants. First you had to finish binding your wounds. Wouldn’t want to risk getting them dirty so soon after washing them, after all. Except you weren’t even sure that you could properly wrap them on your own, considering the positioning of your injuries.

“Ah, fucking hell…” You muttered, scowling a little. Then you remembered that Cassandra had sent a maid to wait outside the bathroom for you. Maybe they could help? Nodding to yourself, you threw on your new undergarments and pair of trousers, deciding to save the shoes for later. Once you were ‘decent’, you slowly opened the door, peeking out from behind it. Before long you were making eye contact with an unfamiliar woman, who looked very confused. “Any chance you could help me bandage my shoulder? I can’t do it without help, and something tells me Cassandra’s not going to lend me a hand.” With that said, you gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make up for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Of course! It is my honor to serve a guest of my Lady,” the maid- servant, maybe- said, giving a short curtsy. Admittedly you’re a little confused by her response. Still, you gladly welcome her assistance, moving back into the bathroom to grab the gauze. Although you intend to do as much as you can on your own, the woman is quick to take over completely. “Please, allow me,” she continued, carefully beginning to wrap your wounds.

“Are all the workers here so polite? I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoys working here, all things considered,” you mused, squinting at the middle distance. At that, the servant tenses up, clearly not expecting you to speak ill of her employers. Well, she had called you a guest. “Don’t be surprised, friend. Less than an hour ago I was fit to be consumed by ‘your Lady Cassandra’. Only reason I’m not dead right now is because of a stupid blood bond,” you explained, tone dripping with irritation. This time the servant doesn’t flinch at all, instead nodding slowly, taking a moment to let your words sink in. During this pause, you decide to introduce yourself, just in case the two of you might see each other frequently.

“I… see. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, no matter the circumstances of your presence here. You can call me Daphne, though I must warn you that I am not one for, ahem, gossip about my masters,” she replied, finishing her binding of your shoulder wound. Next she searched through the cabinet by the sink, looking for a medicinal salve of some sort. Once she found it she was right back to work. The substance stung a tad on your skin, but you could hardly complain, seeing as it would help fight off possible infections.

“You sure about no gossip? What if we call it ‘helping me get acclimated to my new situation’? I’m a fish outta water here, Daphne,” you suggested, turning your head to look her in the eyes. At first she ignored you, focusing on rubbing the medicine into your skin. Eventually she meets your gaze, briefly, and releases a quiet sigh.

“You are free to ask questions-” you start to celebrate, though not for long- “just as I am free to withhold answers. Though I may be more responsive if you can tell me one thing… Why was Lady Cassandra’s dress wet?” Daphne asked, making you freeze in place. Of course she wanted the one answer you didn’t feel confident about giving. She’s quick to notice this, though, and laughs to herself. “Well, I suppose some things must remain a mystery. Now let’s get your face cleaned up…”

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

By the time you make it to Cassandra’s room, the sun is starting to rise, leaking in through the castle windows. Exhaustion weighs you down, making you want to fall immediately into the nearest bed. As it stands, that was none other than your soulmate’s, though it was currently occupied. For a moment you hover in her doorway, contemplating whether or not you should steal her blanket. Floor can’t be too bad, you think, right? Before you can decide you notice Cassandra stirring from her sleep.

“What took you so fucking long?” She asked groggily. Now she’s sitting up, blanket clinging loosely to her body, and you realize that she’s not wearing a shirt. Though a blush rishes up your cheeks, you’re certain it’s too dark for Cassandra to notice. Or at least you hope so. Wanting to think about something other than what she was (or was not) wearing, you focus your energy on responding.

“Isn’t it obvious? I got invited to a sick orgy on the way back, and I wasn’t about to turn that down, so…” You trailed off, gesturing idly with your hands. The movement stretches your shoulder more than you’d like, resulting in an ache that lasts several seconds. It distracts you to the point where you almost can’t catch the object Cassandra promptly throws at you. “What the hell…?” It’s a shoe, as far as you can tell, that definitely would have hurt, had it hit its intended target. “Such a lovely gift, babe. I will treasure it for the rest of my days, forever keeping it as a reminder that you-” your tone shifts from a false joy to deadpan- “are a piece of shit. Now, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep? Is there a walk-in closet I can camp in? Or do I get the bed, while you sleep in a fucking coffin or something?”

Before Cassandra has a chance to respond, you’re walking further into her room, wanting to take a quick look around. There’s a large dresser that you quickly toss her shoe inside, as well as a window sill with a built-in reading nook. Trading your tiredness for sheer dickery, you throw open the curtains, letting the light pour in (and nearly blind you in the process). Half of you expects your soulmate to screech in response. Maybe even turn to ash. Instead, you hear her moving, and you turn to find her laying back down, facing away from you.

“When you’re done fucking around, come over here and sleep. I will knock you out if I have to,” Cassandra muttered, still sounding half asleep. As much as you wanted to know if she’d go through with her threat, you are exhausted. Begrudgingly you approach the bed. It’s certainly large enough for two people, even having enough room for you to be completely separate from each other. When you start to climb in, you find yourself overwhelmed for a moment, surprised at the quality of the sheet fabric. Exactly how rich were these vampiric assholes? This room alone seemed to be worth more than you had ever known.

This was, perhaps, the one bright side to your situation: A comfortable state of existence. Well, as comfortable as one could get in a place like this. So lovely on the outside, a muse worthy of a thousand artists, yet hiding far darker horrors within… much like the woman you now found yourself laying beside. Why me? Why her? What could possibly bring the two of us together, you think, other than a cruel fate? There’s a pain in your chest, dishearteningly similar to heartache. Damning the universe, and your blood bond, and yourself, you think ‘fuck it’ before sliding closer to Cassandra. One arm drapes itself over her waist, while you slowly lean your head against her back.

In an instant she’s tense, not even breathing, waiting for you to reveal whatever trick hid up your sleeve. But no trick comes, just your hand meeting hers, squeezing softly. Suddenly the tension is gone. None remains, not even lingering in the air, and the two of you soon drift off to sleep...

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

Shaking, body made a wreck through tremors, tears staining her cheeks. Breathing comes hard, each shift of her lungs bringing with it a mighty ache. Someone’s holding her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, fingers tracing circles against her back. But she’s lost in her dream, eyes clenched shut. Visions flash before her gaze like lightning in a storm. There’s no time to process, no opportunity to prepare for the thunder that follows. Every strike is a punch to the gut she can’t ignore. When release finally comes, it is not a gentle kiss to her forehead, or a reassuring hand on her own, but rather an intense surge of pain that jolts her awake.

Cassandra nearly screams as she sits up, hands reflexively going to hold her head. One of them stings, bad, and she notices what look like bite marks on the side. For a moment her confusion acts as a welcome distraction. Then she’s looking next to her, and the puzzle practically puts itself together. There you are, one hand in your mouth, an eyebrow raised as you stare at her. Ignoring the lingering memories of her dream, she turns all of her rage towards you. Quickly she grabs ahold of your arm, forcefully yanking your hand out of your mouth, even though it makes your teeth dig in a little deeper. It takes more willpower than she wants to admit to stop herself from strangling you right then and there.

“I didn’t know monsters could even have nightmares,” you taunted. Before you know what’s happening, Cassandra is lunging towards you, pressing her forearm against your throat. There’s just enough pressure to make talking difficult. Both of her yellow eyes are filled with hatred, aimed right at you, but you can’t help but laugh. “Ya know, I did try to wake you up nicely. I should have known you only respond to violence. Next time, though, I’ll remember to stay a safe distance away.”

“You don’t know anything, dipshit. Anyone else would know better than to spout so much fucking ignorance, but nobody taught you how to behave, huh?” Cassandra growled, applying more pressure with her arm, leaving you unable to reply (for once). “You’re a goddamn mutt, aren’t you? Thrown to the street like the garbage you are, left to live in the gutter, feeding off of trash like a fucking cannibal. You should be honored to be allowed anywhere near me. You should be worshiping me, for fuck’s sake!” Black dots form in your vision, a dark halo edging into the corners of your eyes, as your lungs beg for air. But you’re grinning. You’re showing your teeth, bright and proud, knowing full well that you have won this round. As soon as realization dawns on Cassandra’s face she’s pulling herself off of you.

Still, you are left gasping, clutching at your neck as she hurriedly gets dressed for the day. By the time you can see properly again, she’s left without another word. Even as she stalks down the corridor, eagerly rushing away from you, she hears your laughter howling through the castle. It digs into her brain, taunting her. Soon enough you’ll stop, light headed, but she will still hear it echoing inside her mind. You’ll haunt her just as much as her wicked dreams. Hopefully more.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter Seven

Chapter 7 already? I must really love you guys. I hope you enjoy. If you'd like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask. My work is not to be reposted under any name or anywhere else. Reblogs and comments, however, are always welcome.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: trauma, probably language, descriptions of violence, torture, blood.

Word Count: 2k

Series Master List

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The sunlight is bright and you twist your face into Poe’s chest, trying to hide from it. You feel him chuckle under you and it’s only then that you realize he’s awake already.

“Morning.” He says softly.

“What time is it?” You mumble.

“Early, about six.”

“How can you sleep with the sun shining in your eyes like that?”

“I like getting up early.” His fingers trail lightly over your arm and he pulls you tight against his side.

You’re quiet for a long time, but it’s not because he’s lulled you back to sleep. You feel bad for waking him up so late last night. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” You say finally.

“It’s okay. I’d rather you wake me up if you need me than suffer by yourself.” He brushes your hair back behind your ear. “I don’t sleep much anyway.” He admits.

“Because of dreams?” You ask, twisting your head back to look up at him.

“Among other things, yeah.”

You squint and he smiles softly. If you had to pick which is brighter, the sun or Poe’s smile? Poe’s smile wins by a landslide.

“Here, roll over.” He urges, guiding you onto your other side. He turns behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“This isn’t any better.” You huff. His chest shakes behind you as he laughs. You lift his arm and roll back over so you’re facing him. His soft brown eyes are watching you, amusement sparkling in them as you shift.

“Now you’re facing the window again.” He points out. So, you tuck your face into the crook of his neck and take a big, satisfying breath. “G-good now?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.” You whisper, eyes already drooping shut again.

***

“I can talk to Leia, you don’t have to do the report.” Poe says.

“I told her I would. She said I could take time but I was petty and angry at the time and said I would have it for her by today.” You tell him, pushing yourself up from the bed.

“So that means you can still take your time.” He says, catching your wrist gently. “Stay.” He whispers and you turn back to him. “Please?”

“Come with me. You can get some food. I know you need caf. I kept you from doing your usual stuff all morning.” You say, kneeling on the bed. This feels dangerous. It feels like flirting, like crossing a line. But you meant it when you said that Poe is the easiest person to be around.

“You should get food, too.” He says, pushing himself up closer to you. One little inch and you’d be almost touching. You could kiss him. You could feel his lips on yours, tell him how much you…

Your eyes close and he pulls back. You should have expected it. But that doesn’t stop you from feeling like the floor is falling out from under you. Suddenly, you don’t want him to go with you. You straighten up, feeling dizzy and unbalanced. You feel numb, you can’t feel your pulse, can’t hear the way you’re breathing too quickly.

“I just remembered. It’s been a while since I’ve showered. I should do that first.” You mutter, already turning for the door.

“Y/N,” he calls, but the door is already shutting behind you and you squeeze your eyes shut. You deserved that. Why would you think he would want to kiss you again?

Poe can only be your friend. Nothing more. He doesn’t want anything more from you. And honestly, count yourself lucky that he even wants that much.

You hurry off to your room, locking the door behind you. You just want to be alone. That’s what’s best for everyone. Painfully, you peel off your clothes, wincing as every move causes you pain.

You shower quickly, blindly, taking no more time than is absolutely necessary. It would be so easy to just let yourself cry, pretend it’s the water dripping down your face instead of salty tears, but you can’t go there. You can’t let yourself feel sorry anymore. You made this mess, ruined a perfectly good friendship, cheated on your boyfriend and now you have to deal with the consequences of that. You’re in your comfiest clothes, settled at your desk to start your report. You wish you had thought to ask how much detail Poe had put in his. He clearly exaggerated about your part in what happened.

Your hands hover over the keyboard, waiting for your brain to tell them what to type. The longer you wait, the more they start to shake. You yank them back against your chest, squeezing them painfully to get them to stop. You welcome the pain, it somehow serves as your penance for what you’ve done.

Your door tries to open and there’s a muffled curse outside, startling you. You quickly unlock it and outside is Bryce. He holds out a caf silently and your eyes widen and you realize you promised him you’d be in the med bay after his shift.

“How was it?” You ask, taking the cup and backing up to let him in.

“Boring as always. I hate post work. Nothing ever happens.” He grumbles, following you and flopping on your bed. “What happened?” He asks, balling up your pillow and stuffing it under his chest to rest on.

“Um,” you clear your throat, scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t start a fight. I went to sleep with the guy you hate would definitely start a fight. “I couldn’t sleep. Kept waking up. Then I just said screw it. Been trying to work on this stupid report of what happened.” You gesture and he nods, understanding. At least, understanding your words. You know he doesn’t understand what you’re feeling. Nothing bad has ever happened to Bryce.

“What did happen?” He asks, tilting his head to look at you.

The blood drains out of your face and your hands start to shake. Your stomach falls to your feet and your knees get weak. “I-I don’t… I don’t really wanna talk about it.” You mutter, sitting back down before you fall down. You take a sip of the caf and try not to blanch. He never makes it how you like it and every time you forget.

“Well, you’re gonna have to talk about it. People are gonna wanna know.” He says, his voice gentle like he’s trying to be kind. But it feels like a punch to the gut. Why would people need to know what happened to you? Before you can protest, there’s a knock on your door. Bryce glares at it before looking at you. “Expecting someone?” He asks pointedly.

“No. I wasn’t even expecting you.” You stand up and press the release, even more surprised to see Snap on the other side.

He looks nervous as shit, holding out a bag of food from the commissary, and a caf. He has never ever brought you food before. “P…” he cuts off and glances down the hall. “Pando in the lab wanted me to remind you that he needs your help analyzing those plants you brought back.” He says, rolling his eyes at the name.

You frown in confusion, taking the bag. “Pando?” You repeat.

He narrows his eyes and slides them to the right, back down the hallway where he looked the first time. “Yeah. Pando. That’s what he told me. He needs your help.”

The name is entirely unfamiliar. As far as you know, it’s not even a name at all. “Alright… well, if you see… Pando, then let him know I’ll be there in a while. I have something to finish.” You say and he nods. Abruptly he turns and walks down the hall to your right and you blink. Maybe Snap is losing it? Too many missions? Flying too close to the sun? Maybe his ox-mask isn’t operating at full capacity. You poke your head out to watch him, wondering if he’s okay, and a figure darts from view before you can catch a good glimpse.

“That guy.” Bryce shakes his head.

“He’s a good dude. Just under a lot of pressure.”

“Who’s Pando?” He asks, taking the bag of food from you and rolling over onto his back.

You have a feeling you know who Snap was talking about, but why would he lie? Do you keep up the lie? Something in your gut tells you that telling the truth would be a bad idea. “Just one of the guys from the science division.” You shrug.

Bryce digs into your food and you frown. “I thought I knew all the freaks you work with.” He tilts his head, biting into a yacba fruit.

“They’re not freaks.” You snatch your food back. “And you don’t know everything about me. I have work to do.” You say and he rolls his eyes.

“So? Do it. I’m not stopping you.” He sighs, stretching out and laying back.

You want to hit him with something, that rage burning through your veins again. To save your holopad, you grab it, the bag of food, and the caf from Snap and march out of your room. You’ll find somewhere to eat in peace and then go to the lab and find this Pando.

There’s an observation tower on the outskirts of the compound that isn’t used anymore. You climb to the top, leaning against the stone post overlooking the woods. Finally, peace and quiet.

While you eat, you try to get as much of the report done as you can. You decide to be vague on the method of interrogation, instead focusing on what they wanted to know.

The lack of horrific details in your report doesn’t stop you from remembering them.

Hours. He has been asking you questions for hours. For every one unanswered, he slices at your best friend, nicking his skin all over. His face, his hands, his arms, his chest, his legs. There isn’t a body part left unscathed.

For his credit, he never wavers, never gives any sign of weakness, never cries out. He just clenches his jaw, and squeezes his eyes shut.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop crying. You’ll keep your promise, but seeing your best friend in so much pain hurts more than anything you’ve ever experienced.

In the back of your mind, you wonder how he knows about being tortured. As far as you know, he’s never been captured. He’s an excellent soldier, always on guard, always alert. He knows his shit, he’s good at this.

Until he goes on a solo mission with you.

And then you kiss him. And he drops his guard. Now he’s being hurt.

The trooper grunts in dissatisfaction and sets his blade down. “Seems like you rebel scum like pain.” He says, starting to take off his gauntlets and gloves.

Your stomach tightens, nerves spiking as you watch his movements warily. Is he going to give Poe a break, and turn on you?

“Nothing’s as painful as living in the world of the First Order.” Poe replies calmly.

Before you can see it coming, the trooper throws his fist, slamming it into Poe’s solar plexus. Poe doubles over as much as he can, coughing hard and gasping for air. You press your lips together to keep from crying out as your tears spill over. The trooper rains down blow after blow all over his body. His lip splits against his teeth, blood dripping down his chin. Around his eye, his cheekbone, along his jaw; you can hear his ribs shifting, maybe cracking.

Your heart breaks for him. You want to do something to help him, but you’re useless against your restraints.

“Ready to give up your precious General?” The trooper sneers, grabbing Poe’s thick hair and pulling up on it to see his face.

“Who?”

The trooper drops his head unceremoniously and turns to you for the first time. “You can stop his pain.” He taunts. “Just give us the location of your base.”

You straighten yourself as much as you can in defiance. “What base?” You ask coldly.

He grumbles and grabs his gloves, stalking from the room. Poe lets his head sag, breathing hard. You don’t dare speak. Blood drips from his mouth slowly, pooling on the floor.

You twist your face away so you don’t have to see your handiwork, crying silently. You can only hope that for the next session, they turn their attention to you instead of Poe.

He deserves so much better.

Chapter 8

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[stressy-enby]

Some Scars aren’t Physical: PART 2

Iida X GN! Reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Allusions to past abuse, swearing, slight panic attack, L-bombs, and the obligatory Izuku texting POV 😜🤪

Summery: (Y/N) had a terrible boyfriend in middle school. He was possessive, manipulative, and just plain awful. Since breaking up with Him, (Y/N)’s had pretty bad relationship anxiety. It’s so bad, that it makes them afraid to pursue their new crush: the kind, earnest class rep, Tenya Iida.

Link to Part 1

Masterlist

Please note: Reader is a little short. Like, Iida’s a tall boi, and Reader’s implied to be short enough to at least have to tilt their head a little to fully see them. If you’re 5’10 or taller, (first of all, fuck you, can I have your height?) then kindly overlook every time reader is described as short. I’m 5’2, leave me alone.

Btw, this is the end, y’all. I only planned 2 parts. Enjoy 😘 

. . .

Summer came. Villains attacked, a classmate was kidnapped and rescued, and you moved into the new school dorm system. You and Tenya had been going out for a little over a month. You were thrilled to be closer to him with the dorms, and he had shared your enthusiasm, even if it was somewhat more contained. 

“Y’know what’s funny?” You looked up at Tenya, swinging your interconnected hands between you. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to the convince of the dorms.”

“Well, we haven’t been here very long.” The bespectacled boy mused with a smile. 

“Yeah, but it’s like… somethings I forget that we’re even in the dorms.”

“Really?” Tenya pressed the Up button on the elevator, running his thumb over your knuckles as you waited for the doors to open.

“Uh-huh. Just yesterday Izuku and I were texting and planning a movie night, I made said something like ‘wanna come over to my place or should I head over to yours’, and he was like ‘we’re literally within the same 500 yard radius of each other. It doesn’t matter.’ My dumb ass really thought I was still in my own house.”

Tenya laughed as you pulled him into the waiting elevator and punched in your floor number. “What movie are you planning on seeing?”

“I’m going to make his sit through all of Mama Mia!, and possibly the sequel if we don’t start too late.” You cut your eyes to the side to squint playfully at your boyfriend. “Why? You want in?”

“If you’ll have me, I don’t want to encroach on your “bestie time”.” Tenya pulled his hand out of yours to make over exaggerated air quotes. 

You scoffed, lightly shoving him out of the elevator as it opened on your floor. “I highly doubt he’d care. Homeboy won’t say it to your face, but you’re his bestie too.” You grabbed his forearm, hugging it to yourself.

“If you’re sure, I wasn’t kidding about not wanting to intrude on you and Midoriya’s time. I know he’s important to you.”

You smiled warmly up at him, coming to a stop in front of your dorm room. “I really appreciate that, but you have nothing to worry about. If I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t offer.”

“Hmm. I just might take you up on that, then.”

Tenya took both your hands in his own, brushing his lips against your knuckles. You giggled softly, squeezing his hands in response.

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” You said quietly. “It’s been really weird lately, we defiantly needed a night out.”

“Yeah. Things seem to be settling down, but I think the training camp incident’s still heavy on many of our minds.” Tenya sighed. “I know it is on mine.”

You hummed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Then you certainly deserved a date night.”

He chuckled, a soft, blissful expression painting his sharp features. He cleared his throat, his cheeks beginning to darken. “(Y/N), uh, I’m going to ask you something. Before I do though, I want you to know that saying “no” is an expectable answer. I’m not going to be upset, I promise.”

You raised both eyebrows, brows furrowing. “Okay,”

Tenya took a deep breath, squinting his eyes shut for a second before reclaiming eye contact with you. “Can I kiss you?”

You swore the world stopped. You vaguely heard laughter from the dorm a few doors down, but it didn’t register. All that mattered was Tenya. Beautiful, respectful, wonderful Tenya, and how he wanted to kiss you. He hadn’t asked when you’d had your first kiss back in middle school. He just swooped in and-

Nope. You’re not thinking about Him. He’s not here. He can’t hurt you anymore. Tenya’s here, and he’s asking if he can kiss you. 

And you want him to kiss you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I would really like that.”

A small smile cracked across Tenya’s nervous face. He gently cupped you face with his hand. “You’re sure? Absolutely sure that you…”

You stood on your toes, knotting your fingers behind his neck. “Kiss me, Tenya.”

And he happily, albeit nervously complied.

. . .

After a draining school day and the mountain of homework that followed, all you wanted to do was collapse. You flopped over on your bed, groaning into the blanket. You were so tired you didn’t even feel like going down to the main floor for dinner; you figured you could raid your mini fridge when you got hungry.

Tenya’s gonna have a heart attack if he thinks I’m skipping meals, you thought with a dry chuckle. Just as you were unlocking his phone to text him, you heard a knock at your door. 

“Yeah?” You called, refusing to leave the comfort of your bed.

“It’s me, Tenya.” He replied. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Yeah, get in here.” You sat up to greet your boyfriend, tossing your phone aside.

He entered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before joining you on the bed. “How are you, dear? You’ve been hiding in here since the class ended.”

“Tired. So tired.” You mumbled, leaning into his large frame. 

“Oh, well, that certainly explains your absence.” Tenya remarked. “Are you hungry? I was thinking we could go out someplace to get something to eat. Somewhere off campus.”

“Um, I…”

You’d never liked saying no, especially not to Tenya. You’d never really had a reason to; you usually agreed with whatever he suggested. He’d never liked it when you said no to Him. He’d guilt you into giving into whatever it was He wanted. He’d twist your emotions until you couldn’t do anything but halfheartedly agree to His whims.

You were still far too tired. You couldn’t even bring yourself to go downstairs, much less out of the school. You didn’t want to. You wanted to say no.

But the word wouldn’t form. 

“(Y/N)? Honey, are you okay?” Tenya asked, a concerned expression taking root on his face. “You look distressed, and you’re shaking, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, I-” You swallowed thickly, breathing going funny. “I don’t-”

“Shit,” Tenya muttered under his breath. He slipped off the bed to kneel in front of you, taking both your hands in his own. “Shhh, (Y/N)? I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but I promise you’re going to be okay. Try taking some deep breaths, okay? It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

You slowly calmed down, your anxiety settling as Tenya whispered soothing words and caressed your hands. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Of course,” He murmured, brushing hips lips against your knuckles. “Can you tell me what happened?”

You hung your head, shame twinging in your gut. “I’m too tired to go out, but I wasn’t sure how to tell you no. I guess I got nervous.”

“Okay, why is that scary to you?” Tenya retook his seat next to you, rubbing a gentle hand across your back. “‘No’ is an acceptable answer, (Y/N). You shouldn’t force yourself to do anything you don’t want to do.”

You tugged on his shirt, eyes beginning to brim with tears. “Can I sit in your lap?”

“Oh, come here.” Tenya encouraged, opening his arms.

You crawled onto him, sitting sideways on his thighs and leaning against his chest. He tenderly wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“I had a boyfriend in middle school who wouldn’t let me say no to Him.” You muttered, nuzzling more into Tenya. “He’d guilt me into doing whatever He wanted. He did a lot of other shit too, I don’t think I can get into all of it right now, though. You’re nothing like Him, and I know that. I really like you a lot, Tenya, and I trust you, but I still get nervous sometimes because I keep thinking about what it was like with him and it’s ruining things with you and I don’t wanna fuck this up and I hate it and-”

“(Y/N), you’re crying.” Tenya interrupted, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, honey.”

You nodded mutely, wiping the rest of your tears. “ ’m sorry,”

“Please don’t think you have to apologize. I understand. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He assured you, gently rocking you back and forth. “None of this is your fault.”

He held you for another few minutes, rocking you until your tears stopped falling. “Thank you, Ten.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” He kissed your forehead, smiling loving at you."Can you promise me something?”

“I don’t know, what is it?” You asked, squinting.

Tenya laughed softly. “That you’ll say ‘no’ to me when you have to.”

“I’ll try,” You twisted your shirt in your fingers. “I don’t want you to be upset with me, though.”

“For what? Having your own opinion? Not wanting to do something?” He pulled away from you a little to look you in the eyes. “That’s unfair to you. You’re far too precious to me. I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped being with me.”

You laughed breathily, smiling for the first time all night. “That’s just it, Tenya. I don’t feel trapped. I feel free.”

Tenya let out a dumbfounded laugh, blush spreading across his face. “W-well, I’m glad.”

You softy threaded your fingers into his hair, kissing him sweetly. He melted into your touch, pacing a hand on the back of your head.

“Thank you,” You whispered against his lips.

“For what?”

“For just… being you. You’re amazing, Ten.” You pursed your lips, organizing your thoughts. “And… I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Tenya’s grip on you suddenly slackened out of shock. You would’ve slid right out of his lap if you hadn’t anchored yourself by griping his shoulders.

“Woah, sorry,” Tenya quickly gathered you into his arms again, face burning. “You surprised me. Um, did- did you mean it?”

“How could I not?”

 Tenya let out a dazed puff of air, a flustered smile tugging at the cornered of his lips. He lightly kissed your jaw, his fingers dancing over your waist with a feather-light touch. “I love you too, (Y/N).”

. . . 

(Y/N): Yeah, I was just too tired to go down to dinner. Don’t worry, I’ve got food up here. Tenya wanted to go out for dinner, but a minor panic attack changed his mind 😎

Izuku: Wait, panic attack? What happened?

(Y/N): He asked if we could go, and I got a little nervous about telling him no

(Y/N): I freaked out a little bit, and he held me for a while. I told him a little about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Izuku: …Voldemort??

(Y/N): 😑

(Y/N): Yes, Izuku. I dated Voldemort in middle school.

Izuku: Lol, how’d that convo go?

(Y/N): Really well, actually. Tenya was supper understanding. God I love him.

Izuku rolled his eyes, snickering as he texted back, Totally news to me. 🤣 When did you come to that realization? 

As he hit send, a different text notification slid across the screen.

Iida: (Y/N) got anxious about something and explained a little of their “bad dating experience” you mentioned to me. They were a little distressed about the whole thing, but they still managed to fluster me.

“What am I, the middle man?” Izuku asked himself, sighing as he texted his friend back.

Izuku: Ooh boy. What’d they do?

Another text from you. Izuku navigated back to your thread. This was already getting tiresome.

(Y/N): I dunno. We had a date a month-ish ago, and we had our first kiss afterwards. I think I may’ve had some sort of idea that I was in love with him then, when he asked if he could kiss me.

Iida again. “Good grief,” Izuku muttered.

Iida: They told me they loved me. It threw me for a loop, but I managed to regain control of my senses to tell them that I loved them too.

Izuku: Geez, you two are hopeless.

Iida: What do you mean?

Izuku: I’m currently switching back and forth between texting both you and (Y/N) gushing over each other.

Iida: Oh.

Izuku: Yeah man. This is fun and all, but (Y/N) called me as their wingman first. Go get your own, lmao

Switching back over to your message, Izuku sent one last text:

Izuku: That’s really sweet. Anyway, Iida is also texting me at the exact same time as you are. Thought I’d pass along a message he didn’t ask me to pass: he’s head over heels for you. I’m now muting my phone. Being friends with you two is exhausting. 

[sickficsies-and-whumpsies]

hi, may i ask you sick semi eita fic? he went amusement park with his team despite feeling a little bit unwell. Later he feels dizzy & nauseous, his team then take him to doctor/dorm. thank you 🥰

Oui oui, mon amie!!

TW: dizziness & nausea, vomiting, hospitals, brief mentions of IVs.

1.4k words, Gen.

ー ー ー

“Oh, the queue for that one isn’t too long!! Let’s go, guys!!”

Semi sighs. While Tendou’s volume doesn’t usually bother him, right now, stuck in the middle of Yagiyama Benyland, surrounded by screaming people and running children, he wishes his friend could turn it down a notch already.

The fabric around his neck feels constricting, suffocating. Semi tugs at the collar of his shirt lightly, clearing his throat silently as he trails behind the rest of the team.

He massages his stomach under the grey hoodie, feeling it gurgle under his touch. It was only two days ago when the pinch-server’s stomach first sent a painful, sudden jolt of white-hot pain throughout his body, making him shudder and gag, taken aback. But since his appendix has long been removed, Semi’s confident that it’s probably just a matter of too much coffee and too little water in his guts. It’s been a stressful week, after all. Nothing he can’t fix. It still hurts, though.

“Are you sure we’re tall enough for that ride?” Goshiki jokes, and everyone laughs, Tendou wrapping a lanky arm around the first-year and ruffling his head with the other hand. More laughter echoes among the group.

Semi shudders, chills running down his spine, stomach twisting. He struggles to even only force out a tiny smile.

ー

The safety belts press against his stomach and shoulders uncomfortably, and Semi doesn’t think he will make it. Next to him, Ushijima sits quietly, waiting for the ride to start. He briefly glances over, humming.

“Are you scared, Semi?”

There’s no malice in his voice, no curiosity either. It’s something along the lines of… Concern? Annoyance? Both?

“M’fine.” Semi gulps, “Just excited.”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“M’not.”

“Alright. But if you were, it’d be okay.”

“Ushijiー!!” he gets cut off, abruptly, as the thing finally starts to move.

The higher it goes, the more Semi knows he’s not going to make it. There’s no doubt about it. He quickly tries to recall if there’s some sort of trashcan near the exit but he realises that he hasn’t seen any. 

His complexion bleaches rapidly. The thing is, Semi isn’t scared of roller coasters, he quite enjoys them, to be fair. Right now, the thing he fears the most is puking all over himself or worse, over the team’s captain.

And he knows it’s going to happen.

The people in the front row start screaming, Semi only a few rows back. It’s only a matter of seconds before he feels himself falling, and the world tunes out.

ー

He doesn’t actually pass out, really. Instead, once the operators remove his safety belts and wish him and his friends a fun day, he lets his shaky legs guide him down the metal staircase, eyes glazed over, blind. He’s not quite sure he’s moving, either. And he looks green.

Semi doesn’t even register that Ushijima’s strong hand is wrapped around his right upper arm, the left in the care of Tendou himself, eerily quiet. They set him down on the first empty bench they find, the team quiet behind the three.

It’s Reon to crouch in front of the ill teen, a firm hand squeezing his knee encouragingly. “Semi? Dude, hey.”

“...up…” he murmurs, seemingly catatonic, staring somewhere behind the team that has gathered in front of him, eyes filled to the brim with apprehension.

The setter swallows, a thin trail of saliva making its way down the corner of his chapped lips and down his twitching chin. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something, but nothing comes out, and soon enough he ducks his head between his knees and retches onto the pavement without a second warning. 

His teammates gasp, horrified and worried, but Reon is quick to avoid the onslaught and immediately usher the others away, leaving Tendou and Ushijima behind. The taller guy rubs at his back firmly, while the other puts a palm flat on Semi’s forehead, preventing him from giving himself a whiplash. 

His skin feels cold and clammy, ashen. Tendou hisses. 

Not long passes before Semi throws up again, more and more bile splashing between his feet, little droplets staining his shoes and jeans. He retches and gags, helpless, eyes stinging painfully, about to pop out of his skull.

Reon jogs back a minute later, stopping a couple of meters away to give Semi some breathing room. “Should we call an ambulance? He looks like death warmed over...”

Ushijima shakes his head. “We should try and make him drink something, first.”

“I don’t think he’s up to it, Toshi.” Tendou reasons, “Semi-Semi, hey, you need to take a breath, my man.” he adds, patting the boy’s shoulder while Ushijima keeps massaging circles on his back.

But Semi doesn’t. He can’t. His stomach twists and knots painfully, and he doubles over, arms wrapped protectively around his abdomen as he hiccup and dry-heaves weakly. 

“Does your stomach hurt?” Reon asks, careful, calm as ever, “Do you need an ambulance?”

“Yeah, we should call ‘em.” Tendou says, “It’s not normal to feel this sick after riding a roller coaster as bland as that one, andー”

“He was feeling ill before the ride, too. I didn’t think it was this bad, though. I apologize, Semi.” Ushijima interjects. “I think the ride was simply the last straw.”

The three stay quiet for a moment, Semi’s desperate struggles and pants and hiccups drowning out every other noise. And finally, blissfully, about ten minutes after sitting down, his jagged breaths come to a halt, and he slumps to the side, crashing into Tendou.

“Semi-Semi...? Oh shit. Is he dead? Semi-Semi?” Tendou gasps, “Guys, a little help?”

The ill teen is quick to blink his eyes open, glassy and dull, spent. “H’rts.”

“What hurts?” 

“S-stomach. Head.” 

Reon nods, serious. He then takes his phone out and quickly types something, before glancing at Ushijima and Tendou, who are both massaging Semi’s trembling back, subconsciously. 

“Okay, the closest bus stop is about five minutes away on foot from here, and then it takes about ten minutes to get to Sendai Red Cross Hospital by bus, and another minute on foot after that. What do you guys say?” Reon asks.

Tendou is fast to nod, “Let’s go, we might catch the first bus available if we hurry.”

“I’ll carry him.” Ushijima adds.

Semi then struggles, shaking his headー aggravating his nausea and gagging silently. “Th-the others, and y-you, th-the pa-park and- and the tickets andー”

“Woh, woh, slow down, Semi-Semi!! It’s fine, we’ve been here for hours already anyway, and the entrance fees aren’t that expensive. No worries, okay? Let us worry about the rest.” Tendou says, cheerful, “We’ll text the others to let them know we’re leaving. We can always reschedule for another time, alright?”

“Done.” Reon smiles, waving his phone, ‘Shiratorizawa Volleyball Club’ chat open and rapidly flooding with texts from everyone. “Let’s go.” 

ー

Luckily, and unsurprisingly, the bus is perfectly on time, and Semi doesn’t even have the time to register that he’s an eighteen year-old being offered a piggy-back ride from another eighteen year-old. He couldn’t care less. Instead, once he’s on the bus, he drifts, drained.

ー

“Anyone here for Semi Eita?”

Tendou, Reon and Ushijima are quick to reach the doctor, wide-eyed. “How is he!?”

She smiles, “Your friend will be okay, nothing to worry about. He was terribly dehydrated and overall exhausted, courtesy of the raging viral gastroenteritis he has. The nurses gave him an IV to pump some fluids into his system, and once it’s done, I’m going to prescribe him some probiotics to help with the infection and he’ll be free to leave.”

“Can we see him?” Tendou frets, “Is there anything else we should do? Are you sure he’s okay?”

The doctor nods, her expression firm and reassuring. “Viral infections are extremely common, we treat thousands of similar cases each day. I promise you, Semi-san will be okay. And yes, you may see him, of course. Come with me, please.” 

The three follow the kind doctor quietly as she leads them to Semi’s bed, in the ER, the thin curtains between his and other patients’ beds being his only source of privacy. 

Upon seeing them, Semi sits up, grinning sheepishly, cheeks tinted in red. “Hey there.” he grins.

His friends chuckle, rapidly making their way toward his bed, ruffling his hair and pushing him around with calculated motions.

He’ll be fine. 

ー ー ー

I got carried away and started researching how to get to the closest hospital from Yagiyama Benyland, a real amusement park in Miyagi. And yeah, the Red Cross Hospital’s real, too, and the bus as well. I had so much fun researching this stuff. So yeah, I hope you liked it, let me know!!

Also, anon, if you have an AO3 tell me so that I can gift this fic to you when I post it there in a few days.

September 2, 2021

[fanfic-me-up]

Best Part || Kaminari Denki x Reader

“When we wake up and then we make love, it makes me feel so nice” Best Part - H.E.R ft. Daniel Caesar

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: 18+, morning sex, dom!Denki, praise kink

A/N: This is the first fic I’m releasing for my 1k follower event! Hope you enjoy! 😊 And shoutout to @unbreakableeiji​ for reading it over and reassuring me it’s not complete shit 😭

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

You wake to sunlight dotting your vision. Taking your time to stretch against the sheets, you think this is infinitely more peaceful than the brash alarm every other day of the week. You smile at your husband, asleep, and with a bit of drool slipping down his chin.

Sunday is the best day of the week; when you can sleep in and forget about the troubles of the outside world. The only way Sundays could be ruined is if your husband gets an emergency call from work. But, what can ya do? You signed up for the hectic pro-hero life the moment you said “I do.” This is why you vow to savor every moment with him. You slide the ring on your finger that’s lying on your bedside table, sparkling an iridescent yellow-gold.

Your eyes flicker to appreciate what you have, more like who you have; taking it all in before the moment passes and it’s onto the next one. Sunlight caresses his electric locks, bathing him in a golden aura; you trace the outline of the lightning bolt striking his bangs. You lean forward, softly rubbing your nose against his and his own twitching in response. His eyes remain closed, soft snores continuing to fill the room. You pout before a devilish glint takes your face. Reaching under the sheets, you palm Denki’s already half-hardened cock. It only takes a couple of strokes to stand at full attention. An alluring motif graces your ears in the form of a deep groan. Denki shifts beneath the sheets, allowing you a better grip, but you don’t give him what he wants.

“What are ya doin’ to me, baby girl?” Denki mumbles into the pillow.

“Whatever do you mean?” You bite your lip to conceal the smile threatening to break through.

Golden orbs shoot open.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he growls. 

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” 

You peck his lips, and when you pull away he makes sure to latch onto your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling you back in. You take your time languidly exploring each other’s mouths. Denki swipes his tongue across your lip and you open up for him, meeting him in a never-ending slow dance. It’s not long before he reaches down to circles his fingers lazily along your folds, juices flowing instantly at the touch. A breathless moan escapes you when he finds your clit, warming you up just right. You dig your foot into his hip, grinding against his fingers already drenched in your slick. 

Denki stops his ministrations to show you the slick glistening his fingers, made even more obvious by the light. “Damn, baby girl, look how wet you are already and I’ve barely even touched you.” He brings a finger to his lips, eyes never leaving yours as his tongue swirls around the digit expertly. You flush at the inherent display of eroticism. 

Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you whine a muffled, “C’mon Denki…” 

“No need to be shy, baby girl, it’s just you and me.” 

“ ’m not shy…” 

He breathes a quick laugh at how utterly untrue that is. “Then why don’t you come out of hiding?” You huff into his neck which he replies, “Please? For me?” 

Crazy how he still manages to get you shy even though you’ve been married for five years and counting. 

“You know,” he starts, “just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I can’t see you…” He shuffles awkwardly, “learned that from… ahem… personal experience…” 

You twist your head so your eyes pop open to meet his. “Really?” 

“There she is.” His eyes light up.

“Hey! I don’t appreciate being tricked,” you pout.

“Oh, I wasn’t lying. I used to hide behind poles thinking no one could see me.”

You don’t show a reaction of disbelief like a normal person would, already used to Denki and his… unique way of thinking. 

“I was like… ten.” 

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Okay, twelve. I was twelve. It made sense in my head, okay!?” 

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” you say.

He narrows his eyes, a dark look replacing his jovial one. “Turn around,” Denki commands, giving your ass a soft spank enough to make you jolt.

You know better than to argue.

He slides his cock against your folds, spreading your legs so the head rubs against your clit each time.

“Mmmm… baby…” you whimper. Denki elicits a soft gasp from you as he sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck. You’re dripping between your thighs, coating Denki’s cock enough that he could easily slip in.

“Lower your hips…fuck yeah… just like that,” he groans in appreciation, “good girl...” 

The praise is not lost on you, body tingling at the approval. 

Denki grips your hips, entering you from behind. You gasp at the delicious stretch; the right amount of pleasure and pain swirling in your nether regions. He takes his time sliding into you, making sure you feel every ridge of his thick cock, loving the way your walls clench around his girth. 

You mewl at the absolute slowness, simultaneously loving and hating it. You dig your face into the covers as he rubs your pebbled nipple; and when he doesn’t move for a full minute, you wiggle your hips, desperate for just a fraction of the friction you were getting before.

“Shh… it’s okay. We got all the time in the world, baby girl.” 

You bite your lip to keep from whimpering, but you’ve never been very good at keeping quiet. It’s rare for Denki to take things slow, it’s against his nature, and the one time you wanna take things fast, of course, he’d want to take his sweet time. Oh, the irony. 

He plants a ray of kisses down your neck, and as much as you want to get on top and get this show on the road… you can tell he’s thoroughly enjoying the syrupy goodness of a Sunday morning. You twist your head to find a look of pure contentment on his face; you’d think he fell back asleep if it weren’t for the frustrating finger still toying with your nipple.

You thank the undeniable force that causes Denki to finally move. He does so slowly, not even thrusting properly all the way in and out. It’s a lazy rhythm of him slowly grinding his hips against yours. To make up for it, he slides his hand down to pay attention to your throbbing clit. It sets your body alight, an ignited spark ready to catch flame, setting fire to your entire being. 

You moan his name, knowing that gets him going. As expected, he grunts in response, bucking his hips faster. He thrusts deep enough to hit the spot that makes you scream. “Ri-right there! Mmmm…fuck baby... right…” You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the pleasure of Denki filling you up, of feeling whole, and to the heat squeezing you from the inside out, building and building and building...

“Yeah? Right. Here?” He punctuates with a hard thrust, mercilessly ripping a shout from your throat. “You like that, baby? You like me fucking you from behind like this? Filling you up so good you feel it for days?” He slaps your ass hard before palming gently. 

“Say my name.” His voice ghosts the shell of your ear.

You only get the first syllable out before succumbing to the waves of pleasure wracking your body. Denki grabs you by the jaw, turning your face towards his. Your heart drums at the darkness shadowing his naturally light features. His eyes resemble a wicked golden-brown, only seen by you in these intimate moments. 

Denki grips tighter, enough to display dominance, but not to actually hurt. “Say. It.” He’s thrusting just shy of the spot inside of you, and his fingers have stopped rubbing your clit, like he’s waiting for you to obey before giving you what you want.

You muster up the last of your breath to moan a soft, “Denki…”

He strokes your cheek, “Good girl.”

But the tender gesture is here just as it’s gone. Denki returns to the brutal thrusting and abuse of your clit. Your eyes roll back to the sudden onslaught of pleasure. This time he doesn’t stop until you’re on the brink, muscles tightening and sucking him in deeper than he thought possible. He groans at the tight heat engulfing the whole of his cock. It’s enough to hit him like a punch to the gut. He makes sure to sheath himself all the way in as he spills into you. 

The satisfying warmth of Denki draining himself into you causes you to fall off the edge yourself. Denki continues to fuck into you (despite already finishing) helping you ride out your orgasm.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Denki praises as your body shakes from the strength of the orgasm. He stares in awe at the way your lashes flutter over your cheekbones, the way your body glows under the rising sun, the way you’re no longer in control, a nonsensical flow of words and moans streaming from your mouth. This is a release you need to start off your day, and Denki is more than happy to give you what you need. Denki makes sure you get off more than once, like fireworks setting off one after another, until you’re a writhing, oversensitive mess begging him to stop. 

You both take a moment to catch your breath after your third and final orgasm. Denki’s still pressed against you, head tucked in the crook of your neck. You whimper when he pulls out, longing for him to stay, but also relieved to escape the blistering body heat.

Denki flops back to his side of the bed, completely sated, and an arm bent under his head. You curl up next to him (screw the body heat, you want cuddles!) as he wraps his other arm around you to stroke your back. 

“Damn, babe, have I mentioned how much I love Sundays?” He looks down at you; his usual goofy smile returned. 

“Oh, I don’t know, only a thousand times,” you smile. Not only has he said this in front of you, but the hero agency he works at also knows how much Denki loves Sundays and why he loves them, resulting in you and him getting into several long talks about oversharing and professionalism in the workplace. Uraraka assured you that he doesn’t go into explicit detail, mainly just gushing about how perfect you are, especially on Sundays “wink wink.” (Yep, you married a guy who actually uses the phrase “wink wink” instead of just winking.) You haven’t told Denki yet, but you secretly swoon. Despite your friends sending you joking texts on Sundays, Denki’s public displays of affection show he’s confident in his love for you, and you’d take that any day over someone who’s afraid or ashamed to be with you.

Grrrrrrrrrr

Your thoughts are interrupted by a stomach growl which isn’t yours. You raise an eyebrow at Denki who gives his best puppy-dog eyes. You already know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth. 

“Pancakes?” 

“Sounds good, babe, call me when they’re done.” You lay on your side with your back towards Denki, eyes closed like you’re going back to sleep. A minute passes before you hear shuffling and arms wrap around you.

“Please?” 

You really shouldn’t give in. It’s settled that it's Denki’s turn to make breakfast this Sunday. Your mistake was looking back because you always find it hard to resist your husband’s tried and true puppy-dog eyes.

“Ugh. Fine.” 

“Yessssss,” Denki hisses, a victory smile taking over as he makes himself more comfortable in bed.

You begrudgingly get out of bed when Denki sheepishly adds, “With chocolate chips?”

You grumble in agreeance, almost out the door when you’re stopped again.

“And whipped cream?”

“Don’t push it.”

“Sorry.”

He sinks into the covers all dejected that you can’t help but give in.

You’re in the middle of flipping a pancake while humming along to your favorite song when excited footsteps pitter patter across the kitchen floor.  

“Looks good, hun, pancakes are for sure the best part of lazy Sundays!” Denki rubs his hands together, tongue swiping over his lips.

Uhm… did your husband really just rank pancakes over you?

“Excuse me? What about the mindblowing sex we just had, huh? Or the fact that you wouldn’t even have pancakes if it weren't for me?” You cross your arms to stop yourself from whacking your husband with the spatula currently in your hand. 

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you from behind, “You’re absolutely right.”

“I am?” 

You’re taken aback. Usually, Denki would either run away or play along with your play fights so this tenderness is unexpected.

“Of course,” he kisses your temple, “You’re the best part. Forever and always.”

[vibrant-leaf]

Therapy is Manly

Part one.

🧡 ~KiriBaku Fic~ ❤️

Summary and Important Note⚠️: Bakugou is more self-aware and Kirishima is a bit more insecure. Part one is kinda painful, not gonna lie, but part two is happy and will make up for it! Link to part two will be at the bottom.

Word Count: 4090

Warnings: Cursing, angst

Additional note: I have been working on this for a stupid amount of time and have come to the point where I just need to trust myself and post it LMAO. They're going to be a little ooc but that's okay because this is my take on if Bakugou was more self-aware and if Kirishima was more insecure. Part two will have a song linked at the end of it. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking useless!” As soon as it comes out of Bakugou’s mouth, he instantly regrets it. He wants to take it back. He wants to travel back in time to just five seconds ago so he can punch himself in the face before he’s able to say that again. But he said it. And the way Kirishima’s face falls makes his stomach drop down to his knees.

When Kirishima hears those words come out of his boyfriend’s mouth, it feels as if someone stabbed him in the chest. It’s crazy… how two words coming from the love of your life can hurt so much.

“Eijirou, no. No. I’m- I-“ Bakugou doesn’t say sorry. He just doesn’t. But the look on Kirishima’s face, the look of absolute pain and betrayal, rips it out of him because he knows he horrendously fucked up “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I didn’t mean it okay?” Bakugou knows about Kirishima’s previous struggles with his self-confidence, and he can’t help but feel like he just ripped the boy’s heart out of his chest and stomped on it with those two awful words.

Bakugou tries to grab his boyfriend’s hand, but Kirishima shakes his head and backs away before he can touch him. He’s gotten used to Bakugou’s anger, mostly. But sometimes, and more recently for some reason, his words have been hurting him. He’s tried his best to shake it off because he knows that Bakugou doesn’t really mean it and he loves him… right? But this. This gutted him. His self-deprecating thoughts are on the brink of exploding in his head. Useless. Kirishima is indeed useless, isn’t he?

“You’re not useless, Eijirou. Fuck. I don’t know why I said that. I’m fucking sorry, okay?” Bakugou is begging him. He’s not exactly begging for forgiveness because he knows he doesn’t deserve it, he’s begging for Kirishima to understand that those were empty words that he didn’t mean and that Kirishima is nowhere near useless. Alright, he might also be begging for a little forgiveness because he can’t help it, even though he truly understands he does not deserve an ounce of it.

Kirishima looks down at the floor, takes a shaky breath through his nose, turns around, and leaves Bakugou’s room.

Bakugou’s hands fly to his head. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!” What the fuck is wrong with him?! Why does he keep doing this to him?! He keeps snapping at him and Kirishima just takes it. That’s how it’s always been with them, even if it didn’t use to be this bad. Bakugou yells, throws insults and names, and gets away with it every single time. Sure, Kirishima will call him an idiot from time to time or ask for an apology when absolutely necessary, but he’s never said anything else about his rage. Maybe… maybe Bakugou has been taking advantage of that. Bakugou knows there won’t be any serious repercussions, so this lets him take his frustrations out on him. He doesn’t deserve that.

Kirishima gently closes his bedroom door behind him and stands still in the middle of his room. His chest still hurts, and tears quickly start to form in his eyes until his vision is completely distorted, which is fitting because his brain is also being distorted beyond belief. “Fucking useless… You’re not useless, Eijirou.” The words start to play on a loop in his head.

The tears finally cascade down his face as he mumbles to himself, “I’m not. It’s okay. I’m not useless. He said I’m not, so it’s okay. Just forgive him, he didn’t mean it.” After all the other times Bakugou has snapped at him, he’s learned to simply shake his head and force himself to not sweat it. However, he suddenly realizes… he’s been forcing himself to become numb to it. But it’s okay! He loves Bakugou, that’s just how he is, he usually doesn’t mean the insulting words that come out of his mouth, and Kirishima doesn’t want to lose him, so he needs to force himself to be okay.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Bakugou is trying to come to terms with the decision he knows he must make, for the sake of Kirishima’s wellbeing.

Later in the evening, when the class has gathered for dinner, they notice something off between Bakugou and Kirishima. They aren’t attached by the hip, they aren’t even making eye contact, Bakugou looks like he’s about to puke, and Kirishima just looks sad. Sero, Ashido, and Kaminari look at each other, all of them worried about their two beloved friends.

Ashido speaks up first. “You guys know what’s going on?” The boys shake their heads and Ashido’s shoulders, along with her spirits, fall. “I hope they’re alright…”

Kaminari suddenly remembers something. “Uh... did they sign the lease on that apartment they found like a couple of weeks ago?” Sure, they were only dating for almost a year now, after a long year of painful mutual pining, but they always looked so sure, so confident in each other and their relationship, that moving in together after graduation seemed like a no-brainer.

“I don’t know. They haven’t said anything else about it. But this is probably just a little fight. I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Sero tries reassuring his friends as well as himself.

It’s around one in the morning and neither of the boys can fall asleep. Kirishima just wants Bakugou to come into his room and hopefully apologize again, that way he can forgive him, and they can rest in each other’s arms and let everything be okay in the morning.

Bakugou is lying wide awake in his bed, and he’s scared. His heart is racing, and he still feels like he’s going to throw up the few bites of dinner that he managed to get down hours earlier. He’s so fucking scared, he doesn’t want to do this, but he knows he has to… Kirishima deserves better than how he’s been treating him- like a willing punching bag for his cruel, verbal outbursts. God, he is such an asshole. Has he really been like this the whole time they knew each other?

Kirishima finally hears the long-awaited knock on his door but doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t usually need to. “Hey… can we talk?” asks a deep, muffled voice behind his door. He’s a little confused by the fact his boyfriend doesn’t just walk in but whatever.

“Yeah?” Kirishima calls out.

Bakugou swiftly opens the door, walks in, and sees his best friend of almost three years now, sitting up in his bed looking at him wearingly. He can see it. He can see just how mentally drained Bakugou has made him, and it further proves his point that he’s doing this for that beautiful boy’s own good. That human incarnate of sunshine deserves to be happy. He deserves so much better than what Bakugou has given him. So, he swears to himself that he’ll get better. It’ll probably take some time but that doesn’t matter. Hopefully, they’ll be better off afterward… as long as Kirishima will graciously take him back in the future. He wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t though.

Bakugou walks over to the corner of Kirishima’s bed and sits. When he runs a sweaty hand through his hair, he notices that he’s shaking. God, he does not want to do this. Every fiber of his being wants to just curl up in Kirishima’s arms. But he can’t. “I…”

“I’m sorry,” are the words Kirishima expects to hear out of Bakugou’s mouth, but what is actually spoken renders him immobile.

“I think we need to break up.” Bakugou feels like he is definitely going to throw up. Not now, he’ll hold back for now, but later for sure.

The blood instantly drains from Kirishima’s body, and he is left feeling cold. “What?” His voice is only a broken whisper.

Bakugou bites the inside of his cheek to keep the tears that are forming in his eyes at bay. “We need to break up. I keep hurting you. And it needs to stop.” His voice is shaky, and he feels so fucking horrible. He knows he’s hurting the love of his fucking life yet again while saying this, but it has to be done.

“What? No! No. It’s okay, I forgive you, Katsuki. I know you didn’t mean it. I know I’m not useless, I promise. I forgive you, it’s okay. We’ll be okay.” Why does he feel so cold? He’s shaking now too. His eyes and throat are burning. Holy shit he feels so scared. No no no. He can’t lose him.

“But it’s not okay! This is not okay! The way I’m treating you is not okay! I keep hurting you and I need to stop! I need to figure out how to fucking calm down!” Bakugou feels like a sledgehammer is being struck against his damn ribs.

Kirishima speaks through a waterfall of tears, “Okay, you can do that! But we don’t have to break up! Please, Katsuki. I love you.” He grabs Bakugou’s hands and holds them. “We can get through this together, okay? I don’t want to lose you.” Bakugou only glances down at the alarmingly cold hands holding his hot and clammy ones. And at that, hearing Kirishima’s pleading words, feeling his hands hold his for probably the last time in what’s going to be a while, or possibly forever, he releases the barrier that’s been holding his tears back and lets them fall down his face. He shakes his head.

“No. I’m gonna keep fucking up. And you can’t keep taking it like it doesn’t affect you because I know it does. I can see it on your face, I know I’ve been exhausting you. You don’t deserve that. I need to be alone while I.. fix myself. I need to change something, I don’t know. I just-“ Bakugou takes a shaky deep breath. “I just need to be better. And… When I am better, then we can try again. I just can’t keep hurting you like how I have been.”

“You’re hurting me now.”

Bakugou knows this. God, he knows this, and he hates himself for it. “I’m sorry. We can try again in the future. Because I want to be with you, Eijirou. I love you so fucking much. But you deserve better, and I want to be better for you. It’s just… gonna take me some time.”

Something in Kirishima’s brain clicks and he doesn’t like some of what Bakugou has said. “It’s not fair of you to expect me to just wait around and be readily available for you whenever you decide you’re better.” But honestly, who is he kidding? Bakugou is the only one he wants, the only person he wants to love like this… but maybe this wasn’t exactly healthy after all- no. Fuck being logical right now. He’s in pain and he really doesn’t feel like thinking logically.

“I know that, idiot. I don’t expect you to wait around like some dumb loyal puppy. I mean, if you’re available and willing then we can try again. Or if you… if you do find someone else who treats you better, then whatever, that’s fucking fine. You deserve that. You deserve to always be happy.”

“You make me happy, asshole.”

“Eijirou…” Bakugou’s eyes are pleading now, begging for him to just understand and let him go for now.

Kirishima finally snatches his hands away from Bakugou’s. His throat is still burning, and his eyes won’t stop spilling more and more tears. “Get out,” he chokes out.

A moment of tense silence passes them. Bakugou wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. He doesn’t know how to respond to Kirishima telling him to leave, it feels so foreign.

“I fucking hate you. Get out.”

Bakugou bites his tongue so hard it almost bleeds. Yeah… he deserved that. He deserves any anger that Kirishima has for him right now. But damn, that hurt… must’ve been how Kirishima felt when he called him useless. He really was such a fucking asshole to him.

When Bakugou gets up to leave, Kirishima lets himself be logical for a single moment. They’re heroes… and anything can happen. He would never forgive himself if those were the last words Bakugou heard from him before something bad happened. Bakugou grabs the door handle, but Kirishima’s voice stops him. “Wait!” Bakugou turns his head to look at pained, red eyes looking down at the bed. “I… I didn’t mean that. I don’t hate you… I just hate what’s happening…” Kirishima looks up at Bakugou one more time, and even though Kirishima feels like he’s drowning in heartache, he’s able to force out one last sentence. “I love you, Katsuki.”

Bakugou wants so badly to walk back over there and crash his lips onto Kirishima’s, and he almost does. He can feel this magnetic force pulling him to the love of his life. He doesn’t want to walk away… but he ruined what they had. Maybe, just maybe, in the future, he can rest in the arms that have comforted him so many times after he woke up from nightmares, arms that feel like home, and he’ll listen to the steady heartbeat that once coaxed him to sleep after suffering through a panic attack from one of the said nightmares. But for now, “I love you, Eijirou,” Bakugou pulls away and walks out of the bedroom.

Kirishima hugs his legs up against his chest and lets the sobs rip out of his body.

Bakugou’s head falls back against the other side of Kirishima’s door and he can hear him start to cry. He never wanted to make him cry...

Bakugou wants to slide down onto the floor to cry into his hands until the whole days’ worth of food threatens to make a reappearance, so he bolts for his bathroom.

Kirishima suddenly doesn’t want to be in his room anymore. Bakugou and him have hung out so many times in there that there’s a subtle hint of his scent, but that subtle hint is currently suffocating him. He looks up from where his face was buried in his knees and of course, the first thing his eyes set on is a picture of them from when they went mountain climbing during their first year. He can’t be here. He’ll literally suffocate and die if he stays in his room that has too many traces of his boyfrie-… ex-boyfriend. His ears are ringing as he starts to mumble frantically, “I need to leave, I need to leave, I need to leave.”

Kirishima pushes himself off his bed and quickly walks out of his room. His chest is in so much pain. He scans the hallway and tries to think if anybody else would be up right now. Ashido’s a night owl, so she should be awake. Hopefully. He just really needs a hug right now.

Ashido is laying in bed, scrolling through Twitter, with her eyelids starting to droop when she hears a soft knock on her door. She’s confused but she slowly sits up to listen and figure out if someone's actually outside her door or if she's simply hearing things. But when she hears the faintest sound of sniffling, she throws the bedsheets off her and jumps out of bed. Then she walks over to her door and when she opens it… “Oh no.” Ashido’s stomach drops at the sight of her dear friend’s red, puffy-eyed, tear-stained, broken face. “Oh, honey, what happened?” She’s afraid to ask because she’s pretty sure she knows the answer.

Kirishima’s eyebrows pull together and his bottom lip trembles, “w-we... broke up.”

Ashido grabs his wrist and pulls him into her room. They sit down on her bed and Kirishima’s head falls onto her shoulder. She wraps her arms around him, and he hugs her back lightly. That’s when she notices the trembling. “Just let it out, Kiri. It’s okay,” she says as softly as possible as she rubs his back.

Kirishima clutches onto Ashido as hard as he can without hurting her and his eyes are shut tight as he starts to cry again. His body shakes as he lets all the pain he’s feeling rise to the surface and boil over onto his friend’s shoulder. He tries to talk but he keeps gasping in between words. “My chest- it- it hurts so fucking bad. Why- does it feel like this- it feels like someone’s- stabbing me. God- why?” One of his hands clutches his shirt over his heart.

Ashido’s petting his head now. “Shhh… I know it hurts. I’m so sorry, Kirishima. I wish I could take the pain away… Is there anything at all I can do?” She would love to beat up that blonde bastard for making him feel like this but she doesn’t know what exactly happened, so she keeps the violent thoughts at a minimum.

After another moment filled with hiccups and sniffles, Kirishima takes a deep breath. His voice is still really wobbly but at least he isn’t choking on his words now, “My room. I can’t be in there right now. Too much of him.”

Ashido nods her head. “Okay, you can sleep in here then. We can figure out your room tomorrow. But we should probably try to get some sleep since it’s so late. Okay?”

It’s Kirishima’s turn to nod. “I’ll try.” He feels exhausted but he doubts that he’ll be able to fall asleep anytime soon. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No. Absolutely not. I will sleep on the floor.”

“No.”

“Okayyy… well if you’re comfortable with it then we’ll both sleep in the bed.”

Kirishima sighs and looks up at her. “Only if you’re one hundred percent comfortable with it.”

“I am. I promise.”

Kirishima searches her eyes for any hint of unease, but he finds nothing. His eyes fall to his lap. “Alright.”

“Good.” She stands up and walks over to her mini fridge to grab a bottle of water, then offers it to him. “Recycle, or else.” He grabs the bottle from her hand.

“Yes, ma’am.” He starts chugging the cold water and it feels nice on his raw throat. Once he’s done, he twists the lid back onto the bottle, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then scoots over to the other side of the bed. They both settle under the covers and a twinge of awkwardness hangs in the air. A silent moment passes before Kirishima speaks again. “My chest still feels like it’s being crushed.”

Ashido sighs through her nose. “Come here.” She opens her arms to signal an invitation.

“You sure?”

“Yes. I know you’re a touchy person so hopefully, this’ll help a bit.”

Kirishima scoots closer to her and lays his head on her shoulder and her arms gently wrap around his neck. He lays a hesitant arm across her stomach. It’s nice. It’s not… Bakugou… but it’s still nice. His eyes start to burn, and his chest starts to heave for the millionth time in the past eight hours. He feels Ashido’s small hand begin to pet his head and her fingers run through his hair. The tears are pouring from his eyes yet again. “Please don’t do that,” he whispers.

Ashido stops immediately and rests her hand on his back instead. “My bad.”

“Sorry.”

“No no. Don’t you be sorry.”

Kirishima pauses. “He used to do that all the time.”

Ashido barely nods. “I’m sorry, hun. I didn’t think about that.”

“It’s okay...” Kirishima’s voice is weary audible as exhaustion settles into his bones. He closes his eyes to try to sleep but all he can see is blonde hair and red eyes. He sighs. “He said he needs to get better.”

Ashido’s eyebrows furrow together. “What does he mean by that?”

“His behavior, I think. He said he keeps hurting me.”

“Is he?”

“Hurting me?”

“Yeah.”

“…”

“Kiri.”

“…Maybe… Yeah.” It comes out quiet and almost shameful.

“Then yeah, he needs to fix that.”

Kirishima’s quick to defend Bakugou, however. “But I understand that’s just how he is. And he doesn’t mean what he says most of the time, so really, it’s fine. Sure, it hurts for a moment, but I can get over it. I don’t understand why he thinks we need to break up for now.”

“For now, huh? So, there’s hope for the future?”

“I mean he said he wants to try again someday if I want to. But I don’t know how long it’ll be.”

“Hmm… maybe this is a good opportunity for you to work on yourself too.”

“Myself? Why?”

“Honey, listen to what you’re saying. It sounds to me like you don’t even care that he’s treating you like this.”

“I do care, it’s just-“

“You don’t care enough for it to matter. You know what I mean?”

“They’re just words… If I let them get to me then it means I’m… weak. He shouldn’t have to date someone who’s weak like that.”

“Kirishima.” There’s a forceful tone behind Ashido’s voice. “You being hurt from his behavior does not make you weak. You are allowed to feel that way. Bakugou’s behavior and attitude are shitty. He can’t even chill out around his own boyfriend who he supposedly loves and that’s even more shitty. You said it yourself, he’s hurting you. And if someone realizes they’re hurting a person they love then they should try to change the way they act. You, on the other hand, need to realize you do, in fact, deserve better than being treated like his verbal doormat. You need to stand up for yourself more.”

Kirishima is quiet for a while after that, letting the words sink in and process in his brain. He realizes that Ashido’s right in saying that he doesn’t truly care when Bakugou lashes out against him. But why? Why doesn’t he care? He realizes that he should care now but why was he so willing to let Bakugou get away with his horrible attitude?

But then he finally realizes…

He’s insecure.

But he thought his insecurities only pertained to being a hero and he mostly got over that a while ago. He didn’t think he would be insecure about being in a relationship. Well, he wasn’t insecure about being with Bakugou, no way. He admires Bakugou, loves him with every fiber of his being, and he is- or was, so proud and so happy to call him his boyfriend. Bakugou is strong and he deserves to be with someone who is also strong.

Ah.

He was afraid too.

Kirishima felt like he needed to be strong around him all the time, didn’t he? Bakugou doesn’t like weakness and if Kirishima was hurt by something Bakugou said then maybe he would’ve seen Kirishima as too weak for him and leave. Bakugou already left him though. But…

“I want to be with you, Eijirou. I love you so fucking much. But you deserve better, and I want to be better for you.”

Ugh. Why is this all so confusing and frustrating? Kirishima’s head starts to throb.

“Kiri?” Ashido’s softer voice snaps him out of his train of thought.

“You’re right… I should figure out some things for myself too. I think I was scared of what he would think about me if I was always upset with him.” Kirishima releases a disheartened sigh. “So… should I talk to someone?”

“Like a therapist?”

“Yeah…”

“I think that’s a good idea. I honestly believe everyone should talk to a therapist at some point because everyone struggles with something, and it would be good to get some professional advice. So, hopefully, that’s what Bakugou will do too. Everyone knows he needs it.” She mumbles the last part and Kirishima chuckles at it.

“Have you gone to therapy?” Kirishima looks up at Ashido curiously and she nods.

“Another story for another time though. It’s late and I need to get some beauty sleep before having to wake up before you to get you some post-breakup essentials.”

“Ice cream?”

“Yes, ice cream.”

Kirishima gives her a forlorn smile. “Thanks, Ashido, for letting me stay here and for talking to me.”

“I know, I know. I’m pretty cool aren't I?” She grins proudly. “But you’re welcome. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.” Kirishima feels better. Not great by any means, but better. His eyes finally start to feel heavy and before his consciousness slips away, he can’t help but imagine that it’s Bakugou holding him in that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link to part two!

[vampiredecay]

I Can Hear Your Heart Beat (Part 1)

A/N: heyo! this is the first part of a two parter, in celebration of hitting a little over 50 followers! this was a prompt/suggestion from @n3on-lights , thank you again so much!! originally this was going to be one part, but i realized i was at 3k words and only half way done with the story, lol. so part two will be out soon! in the mean time, hope you enjoy this first half!

rating: teen

wordcount: 3,139

warnings/notes: swearing, descriptions of being in pain, half vamp!michael, human!lost boys, the boys turn back to human, implied minor character death, goodbye max, poly!lost boys, lost boys x michael

summary: after convincing sam that he wasn't going to kill him, michael raced to the hotel to seek answers about what he was becoming. little does he know, sam has his own plans up his sleeve, leaving the boys human for the first time in years, and michael still stuck as half vampire.

--

“Sammy, please!” Michael cried out, hanging onto the phone cord for dear life, hoping to whatever god out there was merciful enough to put some sense into his little brother's head. Sam just stared, debating if he should really let his brother in or not. He was floating outside his bedroom window like a freak, and he tried to eat him! But when Sam looked at him, at his older brother, he could see that he looked terrified. He's hardly ever seen Michael genuinely afraid, and he looks so human, despite the obvious circumstances. So, Sam takes a deep breath and walks over to the window, unlocking it and opening it for Michael to crawl through.

Michael counts his blessings as he drops onto the floor, takes in huge amounts of air that he doesn't really need. Sam sinks down to the floor next to him, and Michael grabs hold of him, wrapping his arms around him like he'll start flying away again. Sam tries not to squirm too much.

"What's goin on, Mike?" Sam whispers, his voice refusing to go any higher. Michael is shaking slightly, breathing heavily, so Sam tries again, "What did those bikers do to you?"

That gets a reaction out of him, a low growling sound from deep in his throat. Michael can hear Sam's heartbeat quicken and he has to swallow thickly. "I don't know, Sam. But I'll sort it out, okay?"

"But what about mom-" Sam tries, but Michael cuts him off, frantic, "Just- just don't tell her anything, okay? You gotta trust me, Sammy."

Sam wants to argue, this was way bigger than getting a bad grade on a test, or getting into a fight in school. His gut reaction was to tell his mom, because he knew she would try and make it okay again. But he also trusted his brother. Plus, he had more experience with these guys, so Sam nodded, deciding Michael had it covered. “Okay. I trust you.”

Michael let out a sigh of relief, but it was short lived once they heard their moms car screeching to a halt outside of the house. The boys frantically got up, looking at each other with wide eyes. “I gotta go, Sam. Distract mom for me, yeah?” There wasn’t any time to debate, so Sam just nodded and sprinted down the stairs. He didn't know how Michael was going to sneak out, but at this rate, he didn’t want to know.

When he got down stairs, the blond teen could hear his mom calling his name, and when the front door opened, he could see his mom looking worried like crazy. “Oh, Sam!” she said once she saw him, she sounded exhausted. “You scared me half to death!”

Sam felt guilt start to stir in his chest, he didn’t mean to make his mom worry so much. And the fact that he had to lie now didn’t help matters at all. “I’m okay, mom. I was reading a horror comic and I thought I saw someone outside my window- but I just got carried away, that's all.”

Lucy stared at her son, trying to understand the excuse he was feeding her. She squinted her eyes at him. “You got carried away by a comic book?”

Sam tried not to flinch, he knew it sounded like bullshit, but it was the best he could come up with on the fly. “It was a scary comic mom. I’m sorry.”

The look on his mom's face made it clear she was frustrated. She couldn’t believe how her boys were acting, like she didn’t raise them better. “You know, I’ve just about had it with the both of you, you know that?” Sam nodded his head and looked down at his feet, and she almost forgave him then. But then her eyes landed on the kitchen, and her frustration flared up all over again. “What is this mess?”

Sam looked over to where his mom was talking about, and saw the spilt milk and open fridge door. God damnit, Mike. He tried telling her that it wasn’t his fault, but she wasn’t listening, not that he could blame her at this point. When he was done cleaning up the floor, Sam raced up to his room, pausing to see that Michael had long gone. Wasting no more time, he launched himself on his bed and called the Frog brothers again.

It took a few rings, but eventually, Edgar had answered the call. “What?” he asked, short and coarse. Sam rushed to answer, “Guys, it's me again.”

Edgar sighed from over the phone, “What, Sam? We told you to stake your brother, what more do you want?”

“Look guys, Michael and I talked, he’s going to try and talk to the vamps that got him, but there has to be something more that we can do!”

There was some vague conversation that Sam couldn’t hear, then Alan was speaking, “Do you know if he made his first kill? Can he still walk in sunlight?”

“No, he hasn’t killed anyone, and yes, he can still walk in sunlight.” Sam said, “That means he’s only half shit sucker, right?”

Alan grumbled into the phone, like he didn’t want to be entertaining this idea at all. “Yes, so technically, if you kill the head vampire, all half vampires would return to being human.” Sam was ready to celebrate, he was about to say something like “hell yeah!”, but then Alan asked something that made him cut the celebration short. “Does your brother know who the head vampire is?”

“Uh,” Sam mumbled, "No, I don't think so."

"We can't screw around anymore, Sam." Edgar said, taking the phone back. "Kill your brother, or we'll be forced to do it for you "

"Wait, no!" Sam shouted, desperate to think of something that would help. "We just gotta find the head vampire, right? We-" as he was talking, Sam suddenly thought of something. "Actually, I might know who the head vampire is."

"What?" Edgar asked, voice high and tight. "Well, this all started when my mom started working at Max's video store."

He could hear both the Frogs groaning. "Wait guys, hear me out! He doesn't come in till after dark, he has a dog that's always growling at people, and I read that vampires have hell hounds as companions!"

"Well duh, but-" Edgar started, but Sam cut him off. "If my mom is dating the head vampire, you guys can nail him and save Santa Carla!"

The Frogs were silent for a few seconds, so Sam tacked on "Truth, justice, and the American way triumphs, thanks to you two."

That seemed to convince them, because after a few more seconds, Edgar said "Alright, we'll check Max out. Tonight. Get ready, we'll come get you in ten minutes."

Sam froze, mouth open wide against the phone. "Tonight? Can't we wait until tomorrow?"

"This was your idea, Sam." Alan said, more rustling could be heard from the background. "If Max is clean, we're coming for your brother and his friends tomorrow. Be ready." Before Sam could say anything more, they hung up the phone.

--

When Michael got to the hotel, it was dark and quiet. There weren't as many candles lit, making shadows dance and flicker against the walls, and the only sounds Michael could hear were drops of water bouncing around the cave.

"David?" Michael called out, walking further into the hotel. The place was eerie now, without the boys there, dancing and laughing and joking around. "David? Anyone here?"

Where the hell were they? Michael was getting agitated, a hot irritation settling under his skin as he looked around the cave. If they weren't even here, he didn't know what he was going to do. Michael needed answers, he needed to know what the hell was happening to him.

"I'm not fucking around." The brunette said to the air. "I want answers, and I want them now!"

Silence. Michael snarled at nothing and turned around to stomp towards the exit, but then he heard an all too familiar voice echoing out the cave.

"I'm right here, Michael."

David was standing at the entrance, Dwayne, Paul and Marko lurking behind him. The platinum blond gave a wide smirk as he walked down into the cave, eyeing the angry halfling. “What’s going on?”

“What the hell did you do to me?” Michael demanded, walking right up to David and getting into his face. David cocked an eyebrow as the rest of the boys surrounded him, whispering and laughing. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Cut the bullshit! I’m hungry, I’m in pain, I was floating on the goddamn ceiling-”

“Woah,” Paul interrupted, sounding amazed, “You got there already? It took me a while-” Marko kicked Paul’s leg before he could continue, making the blond rocker yelp loudly. David cleared his throat and suddenly looked deadly serious. “You drank from the bottle, Michael. You’re one of us now.”

“But what the hell does that mean?” Michael was starting to feel drained, he was so tired of going around in circles, and it feels like he hasn’t gotten proper sleep in weeks. “What the fuck was in that bottle that makes me float off the ground and makes me want to eat my brother?”

The boys all looked at each other like they were having a silent conversation.

“Take it easy, man.” Dwayne said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He was smiling like nothing was off or weird about this situation at all. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just go with the flow.”

Michael was about to ask what he’d “get the hang of”, but Marko spoke before he could. “It’s getting late, you should probably go home.” The way he spoke and the look he gave had an air of finality, like fighting would get him nowhere. This had been a huge waste of time.

“Fine.” Michael spit, shoving past David roughly as he walked towards the entrance. He would have to find answers some other way. As much as he hated it, he might have to resort to Sam’s weird friends. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but they seemed to be the only other ones who knew anything about-

“Wait!” Paul called out, making Michael stop in his tracks. He turned around and looked at Paul, who had a weird look on his face. His eyebrows were scrunched down and he held a hand to his middle. “Do you guys feel that?”

The others looked confused, but soon their faces contorted into concern and agitation. Marko’s hand shot to Paul's arm, gripping like his life depended on it, while Dwayne and David held onto each other, as if keeping each other from falling. Marko was panting, “What the fu-”

Suddenly, Markos words were cut off by a loud screeching sound. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin as the boys started shouting and screaming, falling to the ground hard. The halfling stared at them in shock.

“What happened?! What's wrong?!” Michael asked frantically, panicked, running back over and crouching over the pile of writhing bodies. No one could answer, the only sounds coming from them were grunts and whimpers of pain. Michael could only stand and watch, horrified that he had no idea what was going on.

After what felt like an eternity, the screaming stopped. The boys stopped convulsing on the ground, completely still and silent, like they passed out. The silence was deafening now. Michael slowly walked over to David, breathing heavily, anxious out of his mind. He placed a gentle hand to his cheek, finding him surprisingly warm. He checked his pulse, then, and found a shallow, but steady heart beat. Michael then checked the other boys and found the same warmth and beat. The teen sighed in relief, they were all alive, at least. They seemed to be out cold, though, and Michael knew that he needed to move them from the cold hard ground.

One by one, he moved each of the boys to a chair or couch, trying to make them as comfortable as possible. Michael looked around, but didn’t find any stashed food or water, so he decided to hurry out and get them something to eat when they woke up. He didn’t know if they would be hungry or not, but it would be worth the try.

Michael sped on his bike to the nearest convenience store and grabbed a basket, stuffing it with random chips and snacks. He also grabbed a few bottles of water and threw it in the basket. When he went up to the counter to pay, the cashier gave him an odd look, but he just smiled awkwardly. The total almost drained his wallet, which hurt, but there were more important things to worry about right now.

The trip back to the hotel was a bit of a pain in the ass, but he managed to get there in one piece. He parked his bike and hauled the food and water down into the cave, and when he was in the main lobby, he was startled to see that the boys were awake. They were all huddled around each other, holding and touching in whatever way they could. All of them wore similar shocked, concerned and disturbed expressions on their faces. It almost felt wrong to intrude on them, but he accidentally made a noise and alerted the boys to his presence.

“Michael?” David called out, but his voice was smaller, less sure. Michael immediately walked over to them, setting the bag down as he squatted next to the couch they were all piled in.

“Hey, are you guys okay? What the hell happened?” As he talked, Michael pulled out bottles of water and handed them out to each of the boys. They snatched the bottles out of his hands and opened them like they haven’t drank water in years, guzzling down the liquid and getting it all over themselves in the process.

“Woah, guys, slow down-” But they didn’t listen, not even if they started choking and coughing. When the waters were drained, Paul crawled over everyone to grab the bag full of snacks and dig through it.

“Michael.” David said, looking intensely at his face, studying every inch he could look at. He grabbed at Michaels arm and pulled him closer. “Do you feel any different? Did you change back?”

The brunette stared at him, bewildered. “Change? No, I feel the same as before.”

David's eyes widened, and Paul stopped tearing into a bag of potato chips, mouth gaping. “Wait, he’s still half? How’s that possible?”

Marko and Dwayne gave each other a disbelieving look, and Michael scrunched up his face in confusion. “Half what? What are you guys talking about?”

No one said anything for a long moment. David sighed and ran his hands through his spiked hair. “I guess we have no choice but to tell you.”

Michael watched as David sat up straighter, a pained look on his face, like his whole body ached. He looked uncomfortable as he said, “We were vampires, Michael. And you’re one, too. Half, anyway. You still haven’t made your first kill.”

So many thoughts and questions flooded Michaels mind at that moment. His first reaction was to call David crazy, but he remembered what it felt like to fly out his bedroom window, how painfully hungry he was and how loud he could hear Sam's heartbeat, even from the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror was fading and weak. Michael couldn’t fuckin believe this.

Michael stood up so fast he felt lightheaded. “So- you’re telling me,” He started, pacing in front of the couch. The rest of the boys were no longer paying attention, too busy devouring the snacks from the bag, but David was watching him walk back and forth. “That I’m a half vampire. An actual, honest to god vampire. That’s just fuckin great!” Michael shouted, and David winced at the sound.

“Wait.” The halfling stopped pacing and turned back to the platinum blond. “What do you mean you were a vampire?”

David blew air through his nose like an angry bull. He shifted around in his seat before answering, “We have a master. Or, I guess we did. If the vampire that turned you dies, you turn back into a human.”

“Which must be why Michael hasn’t turned back.” Dwayne chimed in suddenly, still chewing loudly on chips. Michael was lost at this point, which must have been clear on his face, cause Marko pitched in with, “You drank David’s blood from the bottle, not Max’s. David didn’t die, just turned back into a human. So, therefore, you can’t go back to being human.”

Michael didn’t know which fact he hated more, that his mom's dorky (now ex, he supposed) boyfriend was a head vampire, or that he drank actual blood. A lot of it, if he remembered properly. He groaned loudly and sank to the floor, head in his hands. “So you’re saying I'm stuck like this?”

“Well…” Paul started, but didn’t get to finish. David interrupted, irritation clear in his voice. “We don’t know. We don’t know jack shit.”

The tension was thick in the air. Michael had no idea what they were going to do now. Living in a sunken hotel may have been okay when they were vampires, but it’s not gonna fly being human. He knew he couldn’t just leave them here. Michael sighed and stood back up, walking over to the entrance. It was still dark out, but he figured it was going to be morning soon. He walked back down and stood in front of the boys.

“Look, we’ll figure out how to change me back,” David huffed at that, looking less than amused. Michael rolled his eyes. “But until then, you guys are basically homeless. Why don’t you come stay with me for a few days?”

The boys froze. They looked at each other, and they looked at Michael, wondering if this was some kind of joke. They had lived in that cave so long it felt like forever, they couldn’t imagine leaving what they considered their home.

“What about your mom? And your brother?” David asked, knowing that it couldn’t be that easy, right? Surely Michaels family would bitch about them being there. But Michael didn’t look bothered. “Sam can be an ass, but he’ll deal. And my mom wouldn’t kick you guys out.”

David was still hesitant. He still didn’t want to believe he was human again, after all these years. It hurts to even think about it. He felt a nudge against his shoulder, and when he looked over, he saw Marko, shrugging his shoulders.

“What do we have left to lose?”

[weelittleweasley]

Amnesia (p2) | Draco x Reader

If you have not read part one, you can find it here!!

Prompt: After proper diagnosis and treatment, your Healer informs you that your amnesia has effected your most recent memories. These memories include your life as a upperclassman at Hogwarts, your knowledge and skills, and arguable the most important thing to you: your relationship with Draco. When Draco hears of your condition, he is overwhelmed and scared to say the least. You two are now strangers. What happens in Part Two of this multipart series?

Warnings: memory loss, nightmares, PTSD, anxiety, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: This part is a slow burn, but just trust me. Shit will hit the fan soon.

This story is not about romanticizing mental health issues. These are serious conditions and this story is not meant to romanticize or fantasize these topics. It’s used as a vessel to convey a different story. That being said, please take care of yourself and sending everyone lots of love. Thank you for coming back for part two :) 

Flashbacks told in italics!

Draco watched you from the window that saw into your hospital room, his nerves and terror eating away inside of him. How was he supposed to keep calm when the love of his life almost died days ago and now does not remember a single detail of their relationship? He ran his hands through his matted platinum blonde hair before covering his face and letting out a sigh that was full of mixed emotions. He was going to fall apart in seconds if it were for your Healer passing by, so he could ask him questions about your recovery.

“So her memory is gone?” he frantically asks, pleading that the answer is no. That would just mean so much time and love and energy that you both had put into this relationship was being washed down the drain. 

The Healer places a firm, yet reassuring hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Not gone,” he speaks as Draco lets out a breath he was holding. “Temporarily lost you can say. Her memories can come back to her in random spurts or all at once. The brain is very complicated and everyone reacts differently. It could take anywhere from two days to two weeks for her to remember. There are rare cases, but it is possible, that it could be a few months for her to recover,” the Healer tells Draco as Draco swallows hard.

If it was going to take you months to remember your relationship with Draco, the boy would go mad. He needed you to remember who he was and what your relationship was like so you could both move on and live the life you had planned when you were students at Hogwarts weeks before. Draco dreamt of what it would be like when you two finally got away from the chaos. He pictured you two settling down somewhere remote, in a cottage somewhere in the countryside, maybe out of England. He pictured you having a lot of land, somewhere you could both enjoy nature and its scenic views. He imagined you with your beaming smile in one of your favorite sundresses, laying in the grass, reading a book whilst you laid your head in his lap. He would stroke your hair and watching you crinkle your nose as you laughed at something he said, him relishing in the regality of your beauty. He felt unworthy to look at something so rare and so beautifully genuine. 

Draco snaps back into reality from his daydream and speaks, “Are you sure there isn’t a charm or spell of some sort that you could use to jog her memory? Do muggles have something that you could possibly use?” Draco was desperate for an answer, a sign, a solution, something.

The Healer just smiles lightly and shakes his head. “If there was, my boy, we would have used it,” he tells him. “I’m sorry you two are going through this. I can imagine it is hard for you, but just imagine how difficult it is for her. The best thing you can do for her right now is be there for her. When she remembers, I have no doubt that your relationship will be stronger than ever.”

-------

And so Draco was there for you. Even though visitor’s hours were over, Draco stayed in the waiting room in case anything happened. Not even your parents did this. Your parents went home and told you they would be back in the morning, confident that you were in good hands with the Healers. Draco could never be too sure. You could remember him overnight and desperately need him. You could remember something about Hogwarts and need answers, to which he would be right at your side. So in the waiting room he stayed, waiting in case you needed anything. 

The ex-Slytherin prince was exhausted to say the least. He hadn’t slept since the battle, too afraid to close his eyes and see what his mind conjured. He feared he would see the eyes of his father, burning into him full of anger and disgust; his only child, his only son, betraying the family to run off with some girl. Draco feared he would see the eyes of the Dark Lord although he was dead, he feared he would find his way into Draco’s mind and into his dreams. Draco didn’t even want to think about if he saw his mother in his dreams. How he abandoned her, leaving her alone to her own devices. Worst of all, Draco knew that in his nightmares he would see you, getting hurt, pulled away from him as he clawed at his father to let him go. Draco knew he would see your limp body, bloody and frail as they carried you away to a medic. He couldn’t face his dreams; they were far too scarier than his reality.

Exhaustion pulsated throughout your body before your heavy eyelids fell, you immediately falling asleep with the help of the pain potion given to you. Today was overwhelming for you; too much has happened for your brain to process adequately. You were relieved to see your parents and Ron and Hermione, but now your diagnosis and this whole Draco situation just made things worse than you had expected. How could you just forget a whole relationship with someone that had lasted almost two years? It just didn’t seem or feel real.

You were peacefully asleep, but that’s when your dreams started for the night. Although your body was at peace, your mind raced. In your dreams, you saw flashes of fire, the screams of people echoing in the halls. Stones and rubble were all around you, bodies, dead and alive, all around. Panic entered your veins as you felt your heart sink. You’re running as fast as your legs can allow you. The taste of iron is in your mouth as you scream, your lungs burning and hot tears running down your face. You’re screaming for someone, but the words don’t come out. It’s just a scream. Chaos is growing around you as see people who you once knew die before you in the matter of seconds. Somehow you cannot control yourself in your dream as you try to run over to your friends in need, but your legs are planted. You have become stone. You see Ron from across the hall and you want to run to him, knowing that he’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from whatever was happening. 

But before you can run to Ron, your body pulls you in the opposite direction. You want to call out for Ron, but his name doesn’t come out. Instead, your screaming something else, but you can’t make out what. Before you can even register where you are going, you look above you and see a large boulder, making its way down to crash down on you. 

And that’s when you scream. The sound is rippling through your body as you sit up straight in your bed, eyes darting open. You stop screaming when you realize it was all a dream, a nightmare rather. Why did it all feel real? The pain in your head is creeping back up as your brain throbs as you catch your breath. Your heart is beating through your chest as sweat slowly drips down your temples. Hot and cold flashes ripple through your body as you clinch onto the white hospital sheets for dear life. Frantically, you look around the room to see if anyone was around you to come to your rescue. Were your parents still here? Ron? Anyone?

In that instant, the door flings open and there was the boy you were supposed to be in love with, his blonde hair pushed in front of his face, a panicked look in his eyes.

When Draco heard the scream, he knew it was you in an instant. He could recognize your voice easily, whether it was in joy or in pain. Draco knew you better than he knew himself. His heart sunk to his stomach at your cry and he leaped to his feet. The worst thoughts came to his mind, thinking that something awful had happened to you. Did someone come into your room and try to attack you? Was he not dead? Was it his father? 

Before he could answer any of these questions, he had practically knocked the door down just to see you sitting up straight in bed, your face covered in panic, horror, and sadness. The sight was gut wrenching. Draco wanted to run to your side, pepper your face in kisses, stroke your hair with his fingers, and tell you that he was right beside you and going nowhere; he would be there to protect you. But instead of doing so, in fear of frightening you more in your vulnerable moment, he just makes his presence known.

“Are you alright?” he asks, gently and slowly, still half standing in the doorway, half in the room in case you asked him to leave.

You take a look at the boy in front of you and wondered why he was still here in the first place. It was the middle of the night; not even your parents were here. Why did a boy you barely knew decide to stay here overnight? You don’t entertain the thought any further. “Bad dream,” you simply tell him, rubbing your eyes. 

Draco understood, there was no need to ask you any further questions. He knew that you needed time and space. The last thing he wanted to do was overwhelm you further.

Out of curiosity, you ask him, “What are you still doing here? It’s late.”

Draco sighs, “Uh, I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. That if you needed anything someone would be here for you. Besides, I don’t have anywhere to go...” he trails off the last sentence sadly. He ran away from his mother, there was no home for Draco right now. He was alone. And without you? He was more alone than ever before.

You both look at each other for a few moments, breathing the moment in through your nose and out of your mouths. You took the time to really take a good look at Draco. He looked exhausted; heavy bags under his eyes that pulled all the way down to the tops of his cheekbones. His hair flopped lazily in front of his face. As sad as he looked, there was something almost angelic about him in this moment. The medic lights that flickered over his head dully almost made a halo above his head as he stared upon you with the most loving, sad expression you have ever seen. You could see how a previous version of yourself fell in love. He was undeniably handsome and there was something that was absolutely magnetic about him. You wanted to be around him for some reason. 

Draco interrupts your thoughts, “I’ll be just outside if you need me.” 

He tries to slither out of the door before you stop him, not even register what you are saying until the words fall out of your mouth.

“Stay with me,” you call to him, rather than asking him like you would have preferred. 

He stops dead in his tracks and turns to you, a confused expression on his face. Did you remember him? Was this your way of telling him? 

You inhale, “I just don’t want to be alone.” It was true, you didn’t want to be alone again with you and your nightmares in fear it would attack again when you closed your eyes. “My dreams are scary,” you confess. “They seem real.”

In that moment Draco knew that the dreams you were having weren’t really dreams; they were flashbacks. He had them too when he closed his eyes. Draco knew exactly what you saw and there was no need to explain. He was just happy that you asked him to stay with you. “Of course,” he gives you a small smile, preventing a larger one from appearing on his tired face.

Draco slowly closes the door behind him before making his way to the chair near your bedside. He sits in the chair slowly and offers you a small smile. You return one to him with a small sigh. You wanted to go to sleep, but also were afraid of what you would see again. Would you dream of the same thing again? Or something worse? Would this happen all the time? 

You watch the ceiling for a few moments before speaking to Draco, “I’m afraid of closing my eyes.” You turn to him to watch his reaction and he gives you a sympathetic look.

“I am, too,” he confesses. “I see old memories that replay in my head. Horrible things. Things I did, things I bore witness to, things I tried to stop...” he looks at you sadly. It was like you both understood where the other came from. There was an unspeakable understanding that just reassured the other that they were not alone. Although you don’t remember much of Malfoy besides the limited encounters with him, you can’t help but feel bad for him. He had obviously been fighting something and you wished that it would leave him alone. “Did you want to talk about what you saw?” he asked you. You shook your head and he gave you a smile. “That’s alright. You should try and fall asleep at least. You are in recovery from a nasty injury, let’s not forget that,” he teases as you smile. He loved your smile. 

You lay back a little further in your bed relaxing. “Malfoy?” you ask as Draco’s ears perk up to his name being dropped from your lips. “Were we in love?” you ask, surprising him and yourself. But if you were going to remember the boy, you had to know if you loved him. 

Draco thought to himself, Were we in love? As much as I breathe. But he doesn’t say that. “We were,” he smiles lightly at the memory when you would look at him with love glistening in your eyes, brushing his hair with your fingers as he would pull you in close by your hips, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. The boy loved you with every fiber in his being. “Madly,” he adds with a laugh. 

As he says that, your curiosity peaks. You two must have had a beautiful relationship if he claimed you were madly in love. That was not a light statement. Without further consideration, you ask him, “Can you tell me the story? Of how we fell in love?” Draco’s eyes widen when he looks at you. “It’ll help jog my memory...I also just want to know,” you tease, making him laugh. His laugh made goosebumps appear on your forearms.

Where to start, Draco thinks. He could tell you about the story of the moment he knew that he wanted to make you his, your first date, when he asked you to be his girlfriend, the moment he told you that he loved you for the first time. There were so many good memories that he had of the two of you, it was hard to choose just one. “How about this,” he proposes, “I’ll start wherever you don’t remember. With each day, I’ll tell you a new story.”

His proposition made you smile. It seemed promising. “How do I know I’ll see you every day for a new story?” you ask, raising your brows.

Your expression made Draco smile. That teasing little smile that played on your lips was one he was so fond of. “I’ll make sure of it. That’s a promise,” he tells you. “Pinky promise.” He sticks out his left pinky finger as you loop yours with his, squeezing it. Instinctively, you kiss your thumb and Draco does the same. Your eyes widen, shocked that he did the same thing as you. You would kiss your thumb after a pinky promise ever since you were a child with your mum. As if he read your thoughts, Draco said, “I remember a lot of things, (Y/N). We also used to do that a lot.”

His words bring a smile to your face as you let go and giggle at the boy in the chair. “Alright, let me think,” you state. You scan your memory for what you remember of Draco. You remember meeting him that first night you arrived to Hogwarts when he made fun of you of being friends with Ron, you remember him teasing you in your charms class because you came to class with bedhead, running late, you remember sitting next to him at the Triwizard Tournament and stomping on his foot when he said he wished the dragon got Harry, you remember when Umbridge busted you and your friends for learning defensive magic and Draco being the first person you saw when you exited the room of requirement. “The last thing I remember was when Umbridge busted Harry and all of us for learning defensive magic behind her back. You were there and you made a comment at me. I remember being mad about it and you stood a smirked at me,” you push his arm.

Draco laughs, “Sounds about right.” You roll your eyes, turning your body gently to face Draco before he began the story. Draco had to stop himself from getting distracted at the way you looked at him, excitement in your eyes as he started his story. Your wispy pieces of hair floated over your head like a fuzzy halo, his heart fluttered at the sight. Merlin, I love you, he thought to himself. “Alright, let’s see,” he starts.

After being busted by Umbridge, you were under high surveillance. Not much to do for fun around Hogwarts anymore. No more gatherings after a certain time, no common room study sessions, the library closed after a particular hour, and not to mention boys and girls had to be separated by 8 feet. How was anyone supposed to have fun outside of academia anymore? Even Hermione belly ached about how bored she was. 

You should have expected your secret meetings to have been busted. When you heard that Umbridge had rodeoed a select few students to be on a watch patrol, you knew that their leader, Draco Malfoy, would go to the ends of the Earth if it meant busting Harry Potter. You wondered if the boy really found joy in being a dickhead to people. Although the conversations you had with Draco were limited, you could tell that some of it was a show that he put on for his other Slytherin friends. It’s like they expected him to be an arse before they even met him. Regardless, the point was that Draco was always blunt and rude around you and his company was not your preferred company.

In the library, there you were, sat at a small table during your off period, scribbling some answers down to some last minute Potions homework that you knew if you didn’t get done, Snape would have your head on a silver plate. As you scribble down your answers in a frantic fury, you don’t even notice Malfoy enter the library, his sightline going straight to you. He smiled when he saw you sitting at the table, immersed in your work, hands pulling at your own hair gently. You were a sight for sore eyes. Draco always took notice of you at Hogwarts, he just never made a move because you never left the damned Gryffindor common room. 

You didn’t even notice Draco in front of you until he hovered above you, startling you. “Merlin, Malfoy,” you jump. “What do you want? And stay eight feet away, you git. I don’t need to get into more trouble with Umbridge. You have already done enough damage,” you sneer at him.

Draco thought it was adorable when you were cross. “I came to ask you out,” he simply states. He doesn’t explain himself further. He just sits beside you at the table in the library, a smug grin on his face like you said yes to his proposition.

“What makes you think that I would want to go out with someone like you,” venom drips from your cherry flavored lips as Draco smirks. Your words did nothing to him. Oh, how that would change very quickly. “You’ve been nothing but cruel to me and my friends and now, all of a sudden you want to ask me on a date? You’re out of your bloody mind.” You continue to finish your Potions homework before Draco plucks the textbook from underneath you.

Before you can protest to his actions, he speaks, “Someone like me? And what would that be? Handsome, charming, intelligent, and funny? Sounds like a real bore,” he jokes. Merlin, he had a big head. “Not to mention, this hasn’t come all of a sudden. I’ve had my eyes on you for a while, (Y/L/N). I just haven’t mustered up the courage to ask you out properly. So here I am,” he leans on his elbow on the table, a shit eating grin on his face that you would love to smack off. “I need an answer, darling. Or else Professor Snape’s homework will just have to wait...”

You roll your eyes, “The answer you’re looking for is not the one you desire. Besides, even if I said yes, what would we even do? It’s not like we have any freedom here. We’re under constant watch.”

Draco laughs at your naiveté. “I thought you were brighter than this, (Y/L/N). I have my tricks. You can get away with a lot when you’re a Malfoy,” he pushes a strand of hair out of your face as he said this, you slapping it away as he does so. “Play nice,” he teases. “Your homework is on the line.”

Anger bubbled in your stomach, but for some reason his argument seemed to be compelling. What did he have planned? “What exactly are you thinking of doing, Malfoy?” you lean in, teasing him further as he smiles, thinking he’s won. Instead, you just pluck your textbook back from his hands, smiling as you do so. You beat him at his own game. This just made the boy more enthralled with you. 

“Ah, that’s for me to know and you to find out, darling,” he speaks. “So, I take it you’re interested?” he asks, wiggling his brows.

You really hated to admit that you were interested in his offer, curiosity getting the best of you, as it usually did. You huff, brush your hair to one side. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” you admit, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. This was so unlike you.

Draco let a chuckle escape from his lips. “Brilliant. 7pm. Stay in the Gryffindor common room. I’ll come to you. I’ll see you then, kitten,” he purrs, leaving just as quickly as he came.

As Draco wraps up the story, you stare in disbelief. “There was no way I fell for that line,” you tell him, sitting up from your position in your hospital bed. “I really said yes to that cheese ball line?”

“How could you not?” he retorts. “I’m suave,” he jokes, making you laugh as you threw your head back. The sight of you laughing was enough to melt every single one of Draco’s fears. The way your nose crinkled as you laugh, your eyes squeezed shut, melodious laughter falling from your parted lips. “You’re beautiful when you laugh,” he tells you, unable to hold back his thoughts. That was Draco’s weakness. He could never lie to you. He always told you what he was thinking. It was his best quality and yet his downfall. 

His compliment makes you blush and look away from him. You weren’t uncomfortable from the comment, but you were just taken aback. Draco was someone who you barely remembered, yet you had such visceral reactions when you were with him. He brought you confusion and comfort that was oddly satisfying. You decide to change the subject. “So tell me about our first date. What did you end up doing that was so spectacular that make me stay?” you ask through a large yawn.

Draco smiles as you cover your mouth, you were obviously exhausted. “I said one story a day, you sneak,” he smiles at you. “Besides, I don’t think you would be awake for the most of it. You look exhausted. I think you should get some rest,” he rises from the chair. He was right. You were even more exhausted than you were before. You pull the covers back over your body, cuddling into the thin sheets. Draco watches as you get settled in your bed, gently smiling at how you pulled the sheet all the way up to your chin like you always did before bed. He remembers how you would always sneak into his bed at Hogwarts; you always preferred his silk sheets to your cotton ones. “Sweet dreams, (Y/N).”

The platinum blonde boy walks to the door before a thought intrudes your mind. What was the harm in speaking it? “Draco?” you call his name cautiously. He turns around to face you, eyebrows raised. You slowly pull the sheets open. “Do you wanna sleep next to me?” you ask slowly, treading lightly. You gave him the offer mostly because you felt bad about him having to sleep in a hospital waiting room until morning. Those chairs were wildly uncomfortable and no one should be forced to sleep there by themselves. But there was part of you that wanted Draco with you. There was an aura about him that reminded you of home. The way he could make you smile with just a dumb sentence was comforting. He felt familiar; like you could remember some pieces of him. Maybe if he stayed with you tonight, all the memories would come back. Maybe his touch would awaken something in you.

At the offer, Draco wanted to scream yes and climb into bed with you, snuggled next to your side, breathing in your all too familiar scent. But he didn’t want to overwhelm you. He had to tread lightly, make sure that you were comfortable. “Are you sure?” he asks, genuinely wanting to know if that was alright. “I can just stay in the waiting room, it really is no problem.”

You shake your head. “I’m positive...I want you to stay with me,” you tell him. “I could be rushing it or I could be crazy, but I think that maybe you staying with me might be helpful...for my memory.”

How could Draco argue with that logic? He smiled and closed the door, trying to hide his excitement. He took off his patent leather shoes and peeling off his blazer, getting himself comfortable before climbing next to you in bed. The hospital bed was arguable just as uncomfortable as the waiting room chairs in Draco’s opinion, but you in bed with him made it all better. Draco slid one arm carefully around your shoulder as to not disturb any painful areas. Although the gesture should have been romantic or comforting, it just felt awkward. 

You both just laid there for a moment, awkwardly laying before you give in to his touch, resting your head on his chest. Within an instant, the two of you let out a breath that you were holding in, melting into each other’s touch. This position of you resting on his chest, hearing his heartbeat made something inside you click. It did feel familiar. Something about it was familiar. 

The two of you don’t speak any words to each other. You both lay there, waiting for the other to say something. But no one says anything. What is there to be said? You allow yourself to slowly fall asleep to the slow drum of Draco’s heartbeat in your ear through his chest as Draco follows only after you are sound asleep. He knew that he could sleep once you were.

-----

As you drift back off into sleep, another dream kicks back in. This one not nearly as horrifying as the last. In fact, it was quite endearing. You aren’t at Hogwarts. You’re somewhere else. Someone’s home. It’s not yours, that’s for sure. The house was smaller, but had a large winding staircase. It isn’t until you hear multiple voices in your head that you instantly recognize where you are. It was undeniably the Burrow. Weasley’s. A smile forms on your face when you recognize your surroundings. 

In this dream of a memory, it’s Christmas time. Molly Weasley in the kitchen, cooking, something delicious smelling of sage and rosemary. Fred and George are in the backyard, building what looks like a fort of some kind, their efforts failing miserably when Ginny runs into the fort, causing it to fall down. A giggle escapes your lips.

You walk further around the house and recognize it more and more with every step. The Weasley home felt like a second home to you. So much so that Molly knew how to cook your eggs and knew the difference between yours and Ginny’s uniforms and Arthur had put a coat hanger in the side hall for you when you were over. You were here almost as often as your own childhood home. Your parents travelled a lot for work and you spent Christmas at Burrow maybe two or three times. This year was undeniably when you were in year four with Ron. You know it to be so because of Ron’s horrid haircut that you teased him about that whole year. 

As if one cue, Ron appears and pulls you to the other room and suddenly you are on the couch, a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. Ron is telling you about a prank that George had planted in Percy’s room for when he came home. You have the feeling of undeniable joy in your chest and your cheeks hurt from smiling. Have you ever had this feeling before? The two of you were laughing at the other and expressing your joy and excitement for the holiday, focusing on the company of the other. You loved spending Christmas with the Weasleys because you knew that you would have more time to bond with Ron. Ron was your first friend at Hogwarts and he was the one who introduced you to Hermione and Harry. Ron was the one to push you to go after what you wanted. Ron was your best friend and other half. Undeniably. 

In this dream, Ron looks at you in your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face and says, “I am so glad you’re here for Christmas. It makes things so much better.” He pulls you into a tight hug and kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

Before you can process the words, you speak out, “I love you more, Weasley.”

Your eyes shoot open and you slowly sit up. You were all kinds of confused. Ron Weasley? He was your best friend, sure, but the feeling you got during the dream was not one that a best friend should have. Your face was flushed, cheeks a bright shade of red. Were you blushing? Your heart beat was racing and your mouth was dry. The image of Ron smiling at you, his arm around your shoulder sticks out in your mind. Him saying I love you plays on repeat like a broken record. What was happening? This went against everything you knew and what people told you you were supposed to feel? Ron wasn’t your boyfriend; Draco was. 

Draco.

You look next to you to see Draco still peacefully asleep, lips parting that allowed light snores to escape. His arm was still draped around your figure which you once found comforting, but now you found alarming. Careful not to wake him up, you peel his arm from around you and onto his lap. His touch now was now foreign. How did this all take a 360 within a few hours?

Casting the thoughts out of your brain, you turn over to the other side of the small bed, back to Draco, trying to fall back asleep, hoping that Draco didn’t notice the change of position. You let your heavy eyelids bring you to sleep, but unbeknownst to you, Draco does notice that you are no longer peacefully asleep on his chest. But he doesn’t say anything. Disappointed, he just takes note of it and closes his eyes, but he can’t fall asleep.

-------

The morning light streams in just as quickly as it left and gently wakes you up. The light hurts your head and makes you wince in pain, softly clutching your head. You sit up slowly and rub your eyes with the heel of your free hand, trying to rid the sleep from your eyes. As you let your eyes focus again, you see Draco is sitting in the chair beside your bed like he was like night, trying his shoes. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he smiles at you. You let out a groggy morning. “The Healer left you another pain potion for this morning. He said to take it as soon as you wake up and then you are good to be discharged and go home,” Draco reports.

The thought of going home made you excited, but nervous. Home was always nice and being your parents at a time like this was definitely something you needed. However, your childhood home didn’t feel like much of a home after your time at Hogwarts, especially since your parents were always traveling and were rarely home even on holidays. If anything, home meant going back to Hogwarts or alternatively going back to the Burrow with the Weasleys...

Shaking your head, you return yourself to the current conversation. “Sounds great,” you smile and take the pain potion from off the nightstand, drinking from the small vile, contorting your face in disgust after, the fowl taste lingering on your tongue. Draco laughs as you do so. “I hate the taste,” you blush, wiping your mouth. “Are my parents here to pick me up?” you ask Draco.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “I can check with the Healer and see if your parents called or not. If not, I can always take you home. I have no problem seeing that you get back safely,” he offers with a gentle smile as you nod. “Great,” he breathes out. “Let me check for you.”

Draco moves to the door and opens it up only to reveal Ron Weasley standing there, fresh eyed and with a small smile on his face that fades when his eyes land on Draco’s. “Weasley,” Draco greets. “I was just going to grab the Healer. (Y/N)’s been discharged.”

Ron shakes his head, “I know. I’m here to pick her up.” Ron glances to you and smiles before sending you a wink. Your heart stops in your chest and your eyes widen. Something that was a friendly gesture between you and Ron now has new meaning after last night’s dream/memory. What was going on?

Interrupting your thoughts, Draco looks to Ron and says, “You’re picking up, (Y/N)? Where are her parents?”

“Is there a problem with me picking (Y/N) up? I’m her best mate after all. Plus, her parents asked me if I could whilst they dealt with preparing her room and treatments for her arrival home,” Ron pushes past Draco and straight to you. “Morning, darling. I have fresh clothes for you and your mum is making breakfast for you back at your house. Ready?”

You look back and forth between Ron and Draco and the tension between the two is palpable. You thought that Draco and Harry had problems? This was another level. “Um, yeah, I guess so,” you reply to Ron while looking at Draco who shakes his head, understanding completely. Your parents had sent Ron for you. You didn’t need Draco. Draco just gives you a small smile before walking to the door. “Wait, Draco,” you call for him like you did last night. “I’ll see you again, right? You owe me a story,” you gently smile.

Draco lets a pink hue reach his cheeks. “You’ll see me again, darling. I promise,” he tells you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, this directed toward Ron this time. “Until then, love,” he winks at you before walking out of the room and down the hospital corridor.

Of course, Draco wished he could be the one taking you home from the hospital. He wanted to be with you every step of the way on your recovery. Draco wanted to hold your hand and guide you through every bump in the road. But if this is what you wanted, he had to respect that. He would have his time. He was sure of it. You would come around.

Meanwhile, you changed in the bathroom into the fresh clothes Ron had brought with him. The soft cotton of your clothes made you sigh in relief, it was so much better than that itchy hospital gown. You emerge from the bathroom, straightening out your hoodie before breathing out, “Let’s go home.”

“Brilliant,” Ron beams, guiding you out of the room, his hand on the small of your back. The action makes you gasp a little bit, but you eventually relax and calm yourself down. It’s a friendly thing, (Y/N). Merlin.

The two of you exit in the hospital, leaving behind all of your fears and worries, ready to face whatever obstacle with a newfound confidence. As you climb into the car, Ron starts it and drives away from the hospital, the radio playing whatever muggle music the channel had to offer. The car ride is mostly quiet except for a few exchanges, but that’s when you notice Ron isn’t taking you back to your childhood home. Rather, you are going somewhere else.

“Ronald Weasley,” you furrow your brows. “This isn’t the way home to my parent’s house...where are you taking me?”

Ron doesn’t hide the cheeky grin from his face. “We’re going home alright,” he laughs. “Just my house.”

The Burrow. Merlin, help you.

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )