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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 9 months

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Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 14

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 8/09/2023

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Series Rating: Explicit (18+)

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Quote: "I figured you wouldn’t want me to choose violence."

I paused my movements, in shock that Justin was walking toward me. He was with a woman and another couple I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t bring myself to move from where I was currently standing in his path. This is the effect he always had on me. I would just shut down. My heart started racing out of control and my breath was catching in my throat. I suddenly felt lightheaded and nauseous. I was one hundred percent about to have a panic attack over this asshole. As he approached, he did a double take, then his eyes locked with mine when he realized it was me.

“Well, I’m surprised to see you here. This isn’t your typical hangout.”

I didn’t answer him. I just continued to stare at him, wide-eyed with my jaw tightened. I had a sudden urge to punch his smug face as he looked me up and down in the most disgusting way.

“I see you’ve changed up your style. I’ve got to say Talia, not a fan.”

“You think I give a damn about your opinion?” I shocked myself with that response. I was still trying to keep my breathing under control as he stared at me. He was slowly inching closer, attempting to intimidate me like he always did, especially toward the end.

He reached up to grab a strain of my hair and I smacked his hand away forcefully.

“I like what you’ve done with your hair. That messy look suits you, these days,” he said matter of factly.

Justin’s eyes shifted up behind me as he took a step backwards. Dieter put his left arm around my waist, pulling me to him. I leaned into his side, still trying to calm myself. I glanced up at Dieter, he could see the panic on my face.

“She does look amazing, doesn’t she?” Dieter said as he kissed the top of my head. Raising his left hand to brush it through the curls at my shoulder. He turned toward Justin, giving him a brilliant smile as he reached out with his right hand to shake and introduce himself. Justin reached out to return the shake as he took in the sight of the man standing before him. Now it was Justin’s turn to be intimidated and I was loving every second of it. Dieter was smiling, but the blazing look in his darkened eyes said something else.

Justin looked back to me, that smug look returning. I knotted the back of Dieter’s shirt in my hand, bracing for whatever was to come.

“Well, I see it didn’t take you long to move on, did it darling?” He directed his gaze back to Dieter, “I certainly hope she’s more affectionate toward you than she was with me. She can be kind of a buzzkill.”

I took in a sharp breath. Anger immediately took over any panic I was feeling. Dieter’s grip tightened on my waist when he felt me inch forward. He looked at Justin and smiled again. His reply was controlled and collected. He said it in the same tone that someone would use to make small talk about the weather.

“I think that may be more of a problem with you than her. She didn’t seem to have any issues showing me affection last night…or this morning,” he leaned forward before he continued, lowering his voice. “You really need an abnormal amount of stamina to keep up with her, so I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Dieter gave him a quick pat on the shoulder with his right hand as he said the last line, still holding me to his side with the other. My right hand shot up to my mouth to stifle the laugh that nearly burst from my lips. The three people that Justin arrived with also struggled to hide their laughter. Justin’s smug appearance had shifted to an angry glare as he processed Dieter’s words. Dieter looked down at his watch after it pinged indicating he received a text message.

“Look at that, our table is ready. Please excuse us,” he said as he gave a small wave and smiled again toward the group. We turned to go inside. He placed his arm around my shoulders to pull me tightly against him as we walked. Then, he bent his arm up to put his fingers in my hair, gently pushing my head toward his. He turned and kissed the top of my head again. Once we were inside, I was still recovering from the mild panic attack and also fighting off maniacal laughter. It was a weird mix of emotions that I had never experienced.

We were led to a table in the back corner of the outdoor patio seating area. I sat down with my back facing toward the building. Dieter pulled his seat over as close as he could to mine and sat down. He still had a decent view of the patio behind me. We sat with our bodies pointed toward each other. The bottom length of our legs was pressed together. Both of us propped our chins on our hands, our faces leaned in close together while I tried to compose myself. His left hand alternated between rubbing my back or neck and twisting a strand of hair in his fingers. I finally spoke up as a smile spread across my face.

“I can’t believe you said that to him.”

“Why? Hugs count as affection, right? It wasn’t a lie.” He shrugged with a mischievous grin on his face. All I could do was roll my eyes at him.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what you were insinuating.” I gave him a scolding look as he continued to laugh.

“I’m sorry, it was either go for the ego or punch that shit-eating grin off his face. I figured you wouldn’t want me to choose violence, though I feel like you almost did.” He beamed at me proudly. “I may have almost chosen violence. Thank you for stopping me.” I said through an exasperated laugh.

I noticed Dieter’s eyes shift to the area behind me and there was a brief flash of anger in his eyes.

“What is it?” I almost turned to look, but he stopped me.

“Our friend was just seated over near the exit. He’s currently giving us a very menacing look. Just pretend he isn’t there and if he wants to stare, I’ll give him a show.”

A sly smile spread across his face as his eyes met mine. Then he bit at his bottom lip, giving me a ridiculously dazzling and flirty look. I couldn’t help glancing down at his mouth. As long as he kept looking at me like that, I wasn’t going to have any issues forgetting about Justin. He knew what he was doing.

He removed his right hand from his chin and used it to entwine his fingers together with my right hand that sat on the table. He began rubbing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. I used my free hand to flip through the menu as he showered me with attention. I knew he was laying it on thick for show, but I couldn’t help enjoying it just the same.

After the waitress took our order, we continued to lean in closely together as we chatted. He would occasionally put his forehead against mine as he rubbed the back of my hair and talked softly about random things. There was the occasional loud laugh from both of us as he told me a few stories about his brother and sister from their childhood.

Dieter said we had gotten some particularly nasty looks from the peanut gallery when we laughed loudly, which encouraged him to do it more. His chaotic energy was on full display by this point. He even conned me into taking a few obnoxious selfies with us kissing each other on the cheek. After our food came, we sat closely together and sampled each other's meals. He was on a mission to be as nauseating as possible.

When our waitress brought the check, he asked her to bring the check for Justin’s table too. I gave him a questioning look. He smiled, “I just feel like we should be extra nice to our friends over there. It’ll piss him off. Also, it’s kind of a dick power move.”

“I’m kind of here for it. It’ll definitely piss him off.”

Once he settled both checks, we got up to head toward the exit. He entwined his fingers with mine once again, making sure that I stayed close to him. As we passed Justin’s table, he looked at us with disgust. Dieter smiled at him and briefly paused to say he hoped they enjoyed their lunch and had a lovely afternoon. I didn’t even bother to look Justin’s way. My eyes were focused on Dieter as he spoke. I had a wry smile on my face as the boyish grin spread across his. He gave them a small wave as we moved toward the exit. How he could keep his composure, I had no idea. As soon as we walked out of the exit I started to cackle with laughter. I could only imagine the look on Justin’s face once he realized Dieter paid for their meal. I’m sure it was priceless.

I was proud of myself for overcoming whatever hold Justin had over me in that moment. I know it was because of Dieter. I felt confident with him by my side, and he made me realize Justin is nothing but a bully and a coward. He no longer had any control over me, and I was free of him. There was no reason for me to continue to have that type of reaction to him. It would be the last time that would ever happen as far as I was concerned. I made a conscious decision to no longer let the fear of him control my emotions.

After we left the cafe, we headed to a few furniture stores to look around. I discovered Dieter had a pretty eclectic taste and didn’t seem to be too picky. For the most part, he was more worried about comfort than looks. Though he wasn’t afraid to point out when he thought something was completely ridiculous looking. After the furniture stores, we went to the local home improvement store to look at paint colors. As we stood in front of the wall of paint sample cards, I could see him mentally shutting down. It was a little much for him to process. I felt like he should have a “loading…” sign across his forehead based on his facial expression. I started to laugh at him. He turned to look at me, wide-eyed.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve seen all day. How in the hell do you pick a color? I think I’m over stimulated by this.”

That did me in and caused me to laugh harder. He just stood there staring at me with an annoyed expression.

“I’m sorry. It’s not funny. Your face got me though.”

Once I got him to zone in on a specific color palate, he was able to focus a little better. He finally decided he liked gray with a blue undertone. We found a complementary dark blue color to use as an accent in a few areas. We grabbed some paint samples and small brushes to test the varying shades out on his wall. Afterwards, I led him over to the tile area to look at kitchen backsplashes. His eyes glazed over a little as he looked down the aisle at all the options. He started shaking his head and I’m pretty sure his eye twitched too.

“You know what, I completely trust you on this one. Pick out whatever you think works. I don’t have the patience for that.”

I started laughing at him again.

“Ok, fine. I’ll figure that one out on my own. I don’t want to hear any complaints if you don’t like whatever I pick though.”

“You’ll not hear a peep out of me. I promise.”

“Good. We’re done here then. I feel like I need to get you a snack or something.”

“Oooooh, good idea. Let's go get a smoothie,” he said as he briefly bounced up and down.

“You and Lauren are obsessed with those damn smoothies,” I rolled my eyes at him, “but if it perks you up, then let's do it.”

“Hey now. I’m sorry if I find paint colors to be boring. I’m perfectly happy to be looking at them with you. Just don’t ask me to pick stuff. I’m too indecisive and it stresses me out. I would much rather watch you pick out paint colors for me than do it myself.” He said matter of factly.

I shook my head at him as we walked toward the checkout line. About thirty minutes later, we found ourselves sitting in one of the booths at the smoothie place, waiting for our order. As we waited, he filled me in on an upcoming trip he needed to take for work the following week. He said that he had a few appearances, meetings, and a cameo to film. He was going to be gone for a week. He didn’t seem very excited about it.

“Are you not looking forward to it?”

“I’m a little nervous. I’m dunno why. I’m not sure that I’m looking forward to being gone either. I think I’ve gotten a little spoiled while I’ve been on this break.”

I reached out and squeezed his hand that was sitting on the table. He turned his hand over and grasped mine in return, not letting go.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. You just have to get back into work mode. At least it’s a short one. That should help you ease back in before you leave to film your next movie. How long will you be gone for that one again?”

“It’s scheduled for five months. Sometimes it takes a little longer for the outdoor shoots though. It’s in Canada, so I should be able to easily come visit when we have some down time. Maybe you guys can come visit me too?”

I gave him an apprehensive look. He knew I hated flying. I would do it for him if he really wanted me to though. I couldn’t tell him no.

“Of course, I can work from anywhere most days. I may need some tranquilizers for the trip though.”

He laughed at me, but I was being one hundred percent serious about that. He paused the conversation to go grab our orders, then came back to sit down. He was quiet for a minute, before speaking again.

“Honestly, I think I’m a little worried about the change of environment. I feel like I’ve made some improvements and I don’t want to fall back into old habits, you know what I mean? I haven’t really been where I’m at now while being away and working. I just hope the change in routine doesn’t mess me up.”

“I understand that. If at any point you're having a hard time you can call me or your family. I think that’ll help keep you focused and grounded.”

The look on his face told me he wasn’t sure if that would work.

“Hey, I mean it. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need to chat to take your mind off things, you call me. I’ll answer.”

He shook his head, and his brows drew together as he started to worry at his bottom lip. I hated that he was feeling this way.

As the day of his departure drew closer, I could tell he was getting more keyed up than usual. It was like he couldn’t sit still. He was constantly looking for things to do to keep himself busy. He spent a lot of time with me, doing everything from cleaning out the pool for me to going grocery shopping with me. He had so much pent-up energy that he couldn’t get rid of. I wasn’t even sure if he was getting enough sleep.

On Saturday, the day before he left, he gave me the spare key to his house and credit card. I had promised him that I would get started on some things while he was away. I insisted it would be easier to do without him being there, but in reality, I needed something to do to keep myself busy. We had been spending so much time together, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself at the thought of him being gone. It was making me feel a little anxious too.

We spent the whole evening together. We cooked, ate dinner, then settled in on the couch to watch TV. Though I’m not sure either of us were really paying attention to the show as we stared at the moving pictures on the screen. He sat with his head leaned against my shoulder, unblinking. I kept glancing down at his face. It was expressionless. We had both been unusually silent the entire night, but he wasn’t straying far from me physically. Any chance he got; he was touching me in some way. When he wasn’t, the anxiety was more visible on his face.

It was near midnight when he finally said that he probably needed to head home since he had an early start. I walked him out to his car. Before he got in, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face into my hair. He sat like that for a while. I held him just as tightly, with my face nuzzled into his chest, inhaling his scent. This was another one of those moments where our actions did the talking for us. He didn’t want to leave me. I didn’t want him to leave me. He eventually loosened his hold on me and planted a kiss on my forehead. Moving both hands to the back of my neck as he did so. He sat there for another moment before he spoke. I could feel his lips brush against my hair.

“I’ll give you a call when I get to the hotel, yeah?”

I nodded and stepped back so that I could look up at him. The sadness in his eyes had changed to fear. I reached up to cup his cheek, gently rubbing with my thumb, and gave him a reassuring smile. He leaned into my hand before turning to get into his car. He didn’t look my way again.

This was a hundred times harder than New York even though I knew I would see him again. I was worried about him this time. He seemed like he was struggling, and I didn’t know how to fix it for him.

I had a restless night. I lost count of how many times I woke up. Soon after sunrise, I pulled myself out of bed and made a pot of coffee. I decided to throw myself into my new project. I got dressed in some old clothes and headed to the home improvement store to pick up the paint we had decided on, the backsplash for the kitchen, and all the materials needed for application. I stopped to grab a quick breakfast then headed over to his house. After eating, I started laying out the plastic and taping things off. Once that was done, I removed the hardware from the walls and started sanding things down while I listened to music on Dieter’s Bluetooth speaker system. It was a mindless task that allowed me to zone out and not really think about anything other than the task I was doing. It was exactly what I needed.

I had been working for some time when my ringing cell drew me out of my intense focus. It was Lauren calling. I leaned over to answer it on speaker phone.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m at Dieter’s, spackling and sanding spots on the wall.”

She was quiet for a minute.

“Didn’t he go out of town today?”

“He did, I figured it would be a good time to do this since he’s gone.”

“How are you handling that? Your voice sounds…off.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m a little worried about him. He was having a hard time with it last night.”

“Have you heard from him since he left?”

“Not yet, he said he would call me today.” I sat down on the floor and sighed heavily.

“This fucking sucks. This is exactly why we don’t need to do the relationship thing. It’s too much.”

“Honestly, I don’t think the relationship component would really change anything at this point. You two got it bad and I don’t understand why you're fighting it.”

I sighed again, “That’s not true. I’m just worried about him is all it is.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that, honey. Do you need help with anything?”

“No, I’ve got it covered. I’ll be over here if you need anything.”

“Alright, text me if you need me.”

I hung up the phone and sat there looking around. I was being so meticulous; it didn’t even look like I had accomplished much. I gave a huff to myself before getting back to work. I worked until it was nearing dinner time. I took a brief break to order a pizza. I sat playing a game on my phone until it arrived. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was. I ended up devouring several slices. Just as I was walking over to get back to work, my phone started ringing with an incoming facetime call. It was Dieter. I rushed to answer it, almost tripping over the plastic laying on the floor.

“Hey,” I said breathlessly after the video connected.

“Hola, mi estrella, qué estás haciendo?”

I raised my eyebrows at him and laughed, “What?” I asked. He chuckled in response.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m working on your kitchen.”

“Wait, you’re doing it yourself?”

“Yeah, how else did you think it was gonna get done?” I laughed at him.

“I thought you were gonna hire someone to do it?”

“Noooo. I’m doing it myself. I like doing this stuff.”

“What’s on your face?” I reached up to wipe my cheek, just now realizing something was there.

“It’s dust, I’ve been spackling and sanding.” He laughed at me.

“Well, if I had known you were gonna do it yourself, I would have told you to wait and helped you.”

“No, you would hate it. This is not your idea of fun,” I said with a chuckle.

The video image started to jump around for a moment as he laid down on the bed. He started to fill me in on his day of travel and the few meetings he had. I worked as we talked. He seemed better today, less anxious. I was happy about that. Before we knew it, two hours had passed, and it was getting kind of late. Our phone batteries were not happy either.

“It’s getting late. How long are you planning to work on that?” I shrugged.

“Why don’t you just stay at my place tonight. No sense in you being out alone this time of night.”

“I live like three minutes away, it’s fine. Besides, I need to shower, and I need clothes.”

“Use mine. I don’t care,” he said as he shrugged. I gave an exasperated chuckle at his persistence.

“I’ll think about it.” The thought of curling up in his bed in one of his shirts did sound very appealing.

“You’re so hardheaded sometimes,” he said as he rolled his eyes at me.

“Pretty sure you are too, sir.”

He bit his lip, then grinned slightly as he released it. It was so fucking hot when he did that. I felt that familiar ache at my core. Ugh, get a grip on yourself Talia.

“What time is it there?”

“Almost 2AM.”

“Geez, you need to go to sleep. I know you probably have an early call tomorrow.”

He shrugged again, “I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Why?”

“My mind won’t allow me to. You know how I am sometimes. The nighttime is the worst.”

“I’m sorry. Anything I can do to help?”

“Just talk to me, please. Te extraño.” (I miss you.)

I nodded. I wasn’t sure what he said, but there was a lot of emotion behind it. His eyes looked sad again.

“I’ll tell you what, give me like, twenty minutes. I’m gonna go take a quick shower, then I’ll call you back, ok?

“Are you gonna use my shower?” He gave me a small smirk. I don’t know why, but I felt like he enjoyed the thought of that.

“Yes, and I’ll stay here tonight and talk to you.” His smile widened slightly.

“Ok, get it done. Don’t keep me waiting too long, please.”

We both hung up and I hurried through the house to lock up, then to his room, trying to not make a mess as I went. I showered quickly, using his shampoo and body wash. The smell of him surrounded me and strangely enough, it was comforting. I walked out into his room, still wrapped in a towel, and quickly found a t-shirt in his closet. I pulled it on as I walked over to where I had set my phone to charge. Quickly picking it up to dial his number. It didn’t even give a full ring before the facetime video connected. He was lying in bed, the room behind him was dimly lit by the tv. He smiled into the camera.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were going to bail on me.”

“I said twenty minutes. I’m only three minutes late,” I said with a teasing smile as I worked to pull the covers back on his bed. I crawled up to settle in.

We talked for nearly an hour before he started to doze off. He fell asleep while we were still on the phone. I didn’t even bother to try and wake him. Instead, I disconnected the call, hoping it didn’t disturb him.

I set my phone alarm so I could get up and head home to work the next morning. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep after that. I was exhausted after spending the day doing more manual labor than I was used to. As I drifted off, my thoughts were solely focused on Dieter. His smell was everywhere around me, which I’m sure had a heavy influence on my dreams that night.

A/N: Just to prepare you, the angst is really going to ramp up next chapter. There may also be some high levels of sexual tension...👀

Seriously, these two just need to get together already. They are wearing me out. 🤣

Next Chapter

Tag List: @rhoorl, @bitchwitch1981, @readingiskeepingmegoing, @runningmom94, @for-a-longlongtime, @hisandsnakes

#dieter x ofc #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x oc #pedro pascal #Destiny & Deliverance Series #pedrostories #Pedro Pascal Character #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #dieter bravo #pedro boys #pedro pascal fanfiction #Pedro Pascal Fanfic #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo fanfiction

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foxintheferns · 4 months

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Wild Heart

Chapter Three

A Twilight - Paul Lahote Fanfiction

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

*Short summary for my antsy gals: this absolute babe with childhood trauma, no real family and a passion for animals goes to live in the woods outside of La Push beach for her job that’s she’s deemed is necessary to find her way in life, and guess who’s not happy she’s there because now they have to worry about this human who’s put herself smack in the middle of bloodsucker city, where they have an instinctual obligation to protect her. And guess who’s even more angry that he suddenly feels an undying and relentless, fiery need to be with her all the time? Angst, tension, passion, anger, love, jealousy, perhaps even some betrayal? This story’s got it all babes (yes, even the smut) - it’s just one of those slow burn, then-suddenly-everything-is-fuckin-crazy-and-the-angst-is-unreal fics, you know? stay tuned ;)

A/N: awww shit we got the Jacob POV with this one! Sorry this took a while! I’m feeling super excited about the story and antsy to get into it. Hope you enjoy!!! PS, tagging all the wonderful lil babies that liked chapter one and two! You guys motivated me to get this one done :’) more to come shortly

CHAPTER THREE

Jacob Black’s POV:

“I don’t know, dude, but she’s out there,” I muttered under my breath, whittling away vigorously at the piece of wood I was working on with my knife. Jared scoffed, lounging on Emily and Sam’s couch across the room, gnawing on some chicken wings that Embry had brought over.

“Yeah, okay, I’m sure she was just a hiker, Jake. Teenagers from the Rez go out there all the time lookin’ for trouble, you know that,” he responded, not seeming to be truly allowing his full attention to fall on the conversation. I raised my eyes from my wood carving to glare at him from where I sat on the wooden steps.

“I do know that, Jared,” My voice came out as a sneer now, “That’s exactly why I’m saying this is different.”

Jared didn’t notice my eyes on him, and shrugged casually as he continued to pull chicken off a thigh bone with his teeth, his eyes more focused on the hockey game playing on the television than on my concerns. His face was looking extra punchable today, and I knew I’d have to reel in my annoyance for him if I wanted to be taken seriously by the pack with this one. Seth strode in from the back porch now, the screen door into the living room having allowed him to hear our bickering. He slid the screen closed behind him and shot me an interested look.

“I believe you, Jake. We just all gotta go out there and see what’s goin on.”

Ugh. Seth was always backing me up, and it made me even more irritable. Even though he was 22 now, he still felt a lot like a little brother to me, although I’d started to really respect him as a member of the pack; he did really pull his weight. I shrugged now, turning my attention back to the wood in my hand that was starting to slowly take the shape of a full-bodied wolf. I knew I’d have to wait until Sam and Paul came back from their trip to Canada before the issue would be addressed seriously. Even my own father wasn’t showing the concern I thought was necessary.

A week before, a twenty-something, obviously totally clueless girl had moved into the old lookout shelter smack in the middle of the Olympic Forest. Right where the pack had full territory protection orders, conveniently enough. The shelter hadn’t been used in over 5 years, and now suddenly the State of Washington has deemed it necessary for this girl to be out there doing, what exactly - birdwatching? It was ridiculous. On my patrol a few days before, I’d decided to stay quiet and watch her from afar for a while, as I’d been keeping an eye on her since I noticed her arrive days before. I seriously watched that girl walk around the forest for hours, looking through her binoculars and scribbling in her little notebook. I got so bored I almost fell asleep, my head resting on the ground between my paws and the occasional sound of the girl’s whispered ‘wow’s and ‘look at you, you are a beauty!’s lulling my tired brain. She often stayed in one area of the woods for hours, and I didn’t have to move around much to avoid her detecting my massive form behind the falls ferns and trees.

I just didn’t understand why anyone would do that to themselves. I mean, if anyone understood the beauty of the forests around La Push, it was me, but subjecting yourself to living in that little cabin for who knows how long? This girl must be certifiably insane - or at least very weird and antisocial, I thought. The boys and I had seen the empty cabin loads of times, it being pretty much smack in the middle of the pack’s territory. It was every so often that young, drunk teenagers stumbled across the chained-off shelter late at night and warranted us to do a little intervening, scaring them off by growling or shuffling deep from the darkness. It worked like a charm, every damn time. We couldn’t have people, nonetheless some random kids, partying out in the middle of the woods like a buffet for the bloodsuckers. It was our job to make sure anyone on our land was safe. And that’s exactly why this girl was putting a bit of a kink in our system.

I remembered the night I first saw her. The lights had been on, smoke escaping from the cabin’s chimney for the first time in years, and I had practically sprinted home to tell the rest of the pack. I had been the only one out doing patrol recently; Sam and Paul had gone as the pack ambassadors to Northern Canada, in their human forms, to visit another group that had reached out in efforts to understand more about our kind. It seemed the Quileutes weren’t the only shifters around. It was great and all, sure, but it left me as the stand-in Alpha while they were away, and the boys didn’t necessarily fear me as much as they did Sam, what with them being my best friends.

“Ah, right, that girl… the one with the Bronco, from the grocery store,” my dad Billy had said casually a week before, when I had brought up to him the severity of my concerns after first seeing her and having my worries be promptly brushed off by Embry and Jared pretty quickly. There hadn’t been a bloodsucker around these parts in quite a while. The Cullens were away, somewhere in Europe, for the past few months, and the pack had seemed to get a bit too comfortable with the lack of constant vampire threats.

I stared up at my dad in confusion, my mouth slightly open in surprise that he seemed to immediately know who I was talking about. All I’d said was that I saw someone was in the lookout shelter, lights on and wood burning stove cranking, and that we needed to figure out who the hell was trespassing and kick them out.

Billy looked up briefly from his newspaper and coffee to meet my eyes nonchalantly.

“Who?” I asked incredulously.

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head and straightening his newspaper out to read it again. “Jacob, the lookout is State property. Sometimes they send in a scientist or two to do some research on endangered species and whatnot for a year or so. They’ve done it lots of times. She’s not the first,” He said casually while eyeing the newspaper. My mouth gaped at him now. How was he taking this so lightly? “Wh-first of all, how do you even know about this girl? Second- she’ll be out there a year?!” My voice was louder, his nonchalance starting to irk me. Billy had sighed then, setting the newspaper down on the table. “I saw her when we got groceries earlier today. She dropped something from her wallet and I yelled out to let her know. I asked her what she was doing in these parts, and she told me she moved here for her job. Wildlife biologist. Tell me, son, you see any other places that a wildlife biologist would work in La Push? I figured that’s where she’d be going, right when she told me. Now, obviously it’s not ideal that she’s out there but, well… I mean, she’s doing it for a good cause.” I stared at him in disbelief, shaking my head and my eyes bugging. His careless demeanor towards the issue was making me feel like I was about to implode, my temperature rising and the wolf inside me eager as ever to let my anger take hold. “Yeah, not ideal is a bit of an understatement. Ha! She’s bloodsucker bait out there. She won’t even last a month, just watch. Either we’ll scare her off, or the leeches will come for her,” I seethed, crossing my arms and putting my feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. I stared across the room at the wall. Billy’s eyes burned into me from my peripheral, and I heard him grumble under his breath before he curtly responded, ”Jacob. It’s your job to keep her safe now. That is not an option. That is the responsibility and obligation that runs through your veins,” he hesitated briefly, “And I won’t hear about you trying to scare her. I won’t.”

My brows furrowed, and I kept my arms crossed in defiance, although I knew I couldn’t argue with him. He was right. But, it was still worth a shot trying to get her to leave.

That was a week ago now, and with Paul and Sam still gone for the next week, I knew I’d have to figure something out myself. I was the Alpha for the time being, after all. I stood up from the step, folding my knife, stuffing it into my back pocket and carefully slipping my incomplete wolf carving into its velvet pouch for safe keeping.

“You guys have fun. I’m going back out there,” I grumbled, taking the extra moment to flick the side of Jared’s head on my way out the back door. He yelped and grimaced, holding his head dramatically and rubbing the place where my middle finger had made contact. Seth stifled a laugh from the recliner in the corner, and Jared shot him a look before flinging a chicken bone at his head, which Seth dodged gracefully. I hid my smile as I strode out across the back porch, bracing myself with my right arm and slinging my legs over the waist high fence to land on the other side with ease. I breathed deeply, feeling the last bit of direct sunshine the day had to offer touch my skin. I had honestly been enjoying this smaller pack experience. With Sam gone, and me calling the shots, I had a lot more solo-shifting time. Being in my wolf, all by myself and without the constant obnoxious chatter of the boys in my head, was truly peaceful. I stood behind the porch and glanced around me once before pulling my pants to the ground. I shook them off and tied them around one of my ankles, my typical way of ensuring I had clothes to put on when I shifted back into my human form later. I let my body begin to tremble and burn and tear as I pushed through my current peace and urged it to become strength. Shifting on command was now something my body had gotten quite used to, and I felt natural doing it. I was grateful that I no longer had to be seething with rage or worry in order for my body to morph, painfully and violently, into its massive canine form. This was much more convenient.

I made a point to check the entirety of the perimeter first, possibly trying to convince myself that this foolish girl wasn’t the only reason I was out there so early. I ran for miles, keeping my senses honed in and my body at a steady pace. I was leaving checking on her for last, the little cabin tucked deep into the woods on our land and about a mile in from our southernmost territorial boundary line. Suddenly, a thought broke through my quite peace.

~Jake, we’re all down by First Beach for a fire, you should swing by and take a break~

Seth’s voice was soft. He knew when I was in the zone, and had been barked at for being a nuisance many times, so I could sense his hesitation with the invite. Surprisingly, I was eager to take a break before checking out the lookout shelter. I hadn’t realized it, or maybe hadn’t even wanted to acknowledge it before, but I was a little nervous. I didn’t know what it was about this girl, but her comfort within the forest threw me off. I wasn’t used to seeing outsiders look so at home in what I felt was my home.

~Sure, sure, I’ll be there~

Seth’s presence quickly disappeared again with my response, and I began my sprint through the forest down to the beach. Within minutes I was gliding through the trees, aiming for the spot where the boys and I typically met up. I stopped when I came to the tree-line, and could see the fuzzy outline of the reservation’s only restaurant, Riverside, through the trees. I felt my body shimmer and shake as I shifted back to my two legged body, bending at the waist and moving from side to side to crack my tired back and neck as I adjusted. I untied my sweatpants from my ankle and pulled them back on, swiping my hand quickly through my hair to make myself presentable and avoid attracting too much unwanted looks from tourists on the beach. Although, being six foot five and shirtless usually prevented that from being avoidable. I made my way through the remaining patch of trees until they broke apart and revealed the stretch of dirt road that went from the restaurant down to the beach. Seth, Embry and Quil were standing in a huddle off to the side of the small building. Seth and Embry turned at the sound of my footsteps, a greeting, howl-like call coming from Embry’s mouth. I chuckled and returned the sound, coming up to them and returning his waiting fist bump. Quil nudged my arm, narrowing his eyes and lowering his tone to speak in a playful inflection, “Yo, think I saw that girl you’re so hung up on down at the beach, man.”

I felt my cheeks warm, and I immediately felt anger at the odd sensation. I knew Quil was just trying to fuck with me. ‘That girl you’re so hung up on’ as if I gave a crap what she was up to. I just didn’t want to have to deal with the inconvenience of another innocent human to have to protect for no good reason other than she wants to watch some birds. I punched his arm, hard enough for that shitty grin of his to be wiped off of his face.

“Yeah? D’ya tell her to get the hell out of here?” I responded with a sarcastic smile.

Embry rolled his eyes, looking at me straight on. Embry was never intimidated by me, even when Sam appointed me the stand-in alpha, even when I was the only one of us besides Paul that could easily overpower any of the others in the pack.

“Jake, relax. Girl looks like she knows her way around a trail, I don’t think it’s a big deal.” Embry’s voice was steady.

I raised my eyebrows, smirking at his consistently naive kindness.

“Yeah, Embry? You ready to keep watch and make sure she doesn’t become leech bait for the next year?”

Embry’s face faltered, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion, “A year? Why would she be here a whole year?”

I nodded, a grim smile on my face, happy the boys were finally getting it. “A year. Billy says that’s what the State does, hires biologists or whatever to come down here to study the animals and shit. I guess that’s how long the job is.”

Seth seemed interested now, his own usually neutral position seeming to falter as well.

“Oh damn, that is kinda…not ideal… I wonder if-,” Seth paused mid sentence, his eyes catching something behind me. I waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, I turned to see what had caught his attention. Walking toward the restaurant -and toward us- a small red backpack strewn over her shoulder and light brown, caramel hair that escaped its long braid in small wispy sections around her face to whip across her cheeks with the slight salty breeze, was a girl. The elusive forest girl. There she was. The current thorn in my side that was causing more issues than she could even dream of understanding. I hadn’t seen her this up close yet. She looked to be around our age, early twenties, and she was a bit taller than a lot of the girls I’d seen around town. She had long, graceful legs that carried her with purposeful and lengthy strides. Her feet were clad in brown hiking boots, dirty and currently covered with sand. In the brief moment we had stopped our conversation to look in her direction, she had glanced down at the ground, seemingly avoiding our intense stares. The silence carried on until she opened the door to the restaurant, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

I turned back to the boys, and Seth’s eyes were still on the door. I snapped my finger in his face, calling his attention back. He blinked, staring at me. Then, he looked down at the ground, shuffling his feet around on the dirt and finding a random rock to be apparently quite interesting.

“I mean, if that’s the girl living in our woods- I think it’s, uh… I think that’s just fine,” Seth mumbled with a light shrug, a playful smirk pulling up onto his lips as he shot a narrow glance at Quil from the corner of his eye. Quil snorted, earning another shoulder punch from me. “Yeah, yeah. Get your asses down to the beach, let’s go,” I instructed, turning my body away from the restaurant and directing the group of us towards the treeline. They obliged, starting a new conversation amongst themselves as I trailed behind. Before we entered the trees to make our way down to the beach, I risked one brief glance over my left shoulder, and regretted it instantly when I made direct eye contact with her through the glass pane of the front window of the restaurant. My eyes shot back forward immediately, but I continued to see her face in my mind for a moment. She had been looking at me. Her expression was… intrigued? No, that wasn’t it, maybe nervous? Good. I didn’t want her getting comfortable here.

Two Hours Later

“All I’m saying is, she’s hot,” Quil had his hands up defensively in front of him, palms facing outward, “sue me, Jake. A hot girl is living in our woods and I’m not mad about it.”

I glared at him from across the large driftwood fire the four of us sat around on First Beach, the sun just starting to come down across the horizon.

“And all I’m saying is, you’re lucky you’re sitting all the way over there, Quil,” I mumbled back, turning my gaze downward to continue to play with a stick in the sand, stabbing it down and feeling the satisfying crunch of the beach beneath it.

“Lighten up, Jake. You’re gonna go prematurely grey with all this worrying you’re doing,” Embry joked, chewing on some Swedish Fish he’d pulled out from his back pocket. My eyes flickered up to his face, and he slowed his chewing when he saw whatever expression was on mine.

“This isn’t something he, or any of us, should be joking about. Just because the bloodsuckers haven’t come through in a while doesn’t mean they’re not out there. They’re always out there. And this girl has just decided to settle down right smack in the middle of the damn woods. You guys don’t see anything that could go wrong there?”

Seth shrugged halfheartedly, “Honestly, no…Not with us around.”

I rolled my eyes, but slumped my shoulders back down in defeat. “Whatever, I’m going back,” I muttered, throwing the stick I’d been fumbling with down into the flames of the bonfire as I pulled myself to my feet. I heard the mumbles of complaint and opposition come from the three of them, but decided I wasn’t in the mood for more petty arguing and defending of my side, and kept a steady pace over to the tree-line bordering the beach until I was well into the cover of the dark greenery. I walked further, trying to allow the cold air of the forest to bite into my skin and clear my head. The sunlight was almost completely gone now, and I was eager to get back into my wolf form, the idea of not having to communicate with the rest of the pack looking like a luxury at this point. I was always able to sink effortlessly into the instinctual, primal rhythm that came along with shifting. It was a quiet place where my human emotions and worries weren’t as clear and sharp. It allowed escape. As I bent to pull my sweatpants down, a distant light flickered across my vision. I stood back up straight, my pants coming back up to my hips, and narrowed my eyes to peer through the trees. A bobbing flashlight was moving through the black trees ahead, probably around 40 yards away. My vision was much better than the average human’s due to the altered DNA I possessed, and my senses of smell and hearing were almost as good as they were in my wolf form. I knew almost immediately that it was her. I felt a smirk pull up a corner of my mouth when I realized that she was making it far too easy, now. All I had to do was freak her out a bit, right? What woman wants to stay in the woods by herself when strange shirtless men are out and about? I started striding towards her, not fully knowing what I was doing or bothering to question myself up until the very moment she seemed to hear the crunching of my feet on the ground. She froze, and I could hear the terrified pumping of her heart in the silence. Maybe I wouldn’t even have to do much. Maybe this would be enough to scare her, to get her to pack her things and head back to wherever she came from. I continued to loudly trudge across the forest floor, trying to make myself sound even bigger than I already was. She suddenly reached behind her, grabbing some object from her backpack’s side, and then proceeded to yell. Or, I don’t think I could truly call it a yell. A loud whimper, perhaps.

“Hey, bear! H-hey bear!”

I almost laughed out loud. I stopped walking, stifling my chuckle and keeping my eyes on her trembling frame. I had to make myself known; I couldn’t let the poor girl believe that her pathetic attempt at keeping a bear away would’ve actually worked. I’d practically be doing her a disservice by going away now. Back to the strange man in the woods approach.

“Well, I’m not a bear, but if I was - don’t know that those sounds would do the trick.”

She reeled, gasping and throwing her flashlight to the ground in her panic. I rolled my eyes in the darkness. If I had been a bear, you’d be a goner by now, I wanted to say.

“Shit!” Her voice filled the silent forest, and I bit my bottom lip hard to keep the unimpressed laugh from escaping. I was right to try and get this girl to leave, she wouldn’t last a second around a vampire. Suddenly, the flashlight was back in her grasp and a blinding light was being pointed directly at my face.

“Jesus, wha-, fuck, can you shine that down?!” I practically yelled, throwing a hand up in front of my face and straining my eyes from the brightness. After a moment, the light was lowered quickly, hovering around my legs, and I let my hand fall back down. We locked eyes, her terrified gaze traveling up and down my body, resting finally on my face.

“H-…wha-who-,” she stammered out, then appeared to take a deep breath and began again, “Why are you following me?”

Now, I couldn’t hide my amusement. I felt a smile prick the corner of my mouth, and I watched as her expression became more filled with terror at the change in my expression. When I saw that, I realized it was possible that I was maybe scaring her a bit too much. I let my gaze soften and stifled back another chuckle, cocking my head towards her and letting my genuine interest in her ridiculous reasoning lead the way.

“Following you? You’re on my land, sweetheart,” I responded, my voice calm and steady, keeping my eyes locked on hers.

➡️NEXT CHAPTER

……………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: eeeeeek! This was basically Chapter Two but from Jake’s POV, so very excited to move it along in the next chapter heheh. Should be up tmrw! To the wonderful readers who followed along with Chp 1 and 2, you guys rock and I hope you still wanna read, but still luv u even if u just stopped in for those first chapters! <3

@hotheadwolf @living-that-best-life @carrrieeexu @plainharmony130th-blog

#fanfic #twilight #imagines #jacob black #paul lahote #paullahote #twilight imagines #fanfiction #paullahoteimagine

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roanniom · 3 years

Text

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield.

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

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jasonsthots · 3 years

Text

Almost hiding the darkness within

I have no clue how to post this properly but here we go-

Big thanks to @jaybirdsdarling like without her I definitely couldn't have made this or even posted it so thanks babes 😘

Warnings- smut- lots of it, yandere peoples, slight noncon to dubcon? Violence, slight gun play, voyeurism, cuckolding--- basically bring your holy water (there might be more but not sure 😚)

It all started with the landing. Ya' know the one. That superhero landing. The one that looks like it really hurts the knees. When that, a brown leather jacket, red helmet wearing man landed like that in front of her like a human shield. Those that had been trying to mug her, knew it was over before it had started. Before they had a chance to run, he was on them. Limps, noses, all broken when he was done.

When he was done, he just simply stood up and turned to her. She was smiling dumbly, she knew that. Her cheeks hurt, dried tears stained her cheeks, nose stuffed from running and she was sure her hair was a mess from the tugging the men had done. But she didn't care, her savor was right there-

"Miss, always put your money away inside when it's given, not when you're outside. Honestly. I thought this was common knowledge." His mechanical voice rang through the alley as he passed by, his back now to her as he looked over one last time. "And especially not in an alleyway with 100 different kinds of graffiti." And with that, he grappled away.

Y/n's pout was deep as she looked on. Giving a swift kick to one of the robbers that laid on the pavement. "Maybe next time..."

_______

It was like she had planned it. He had to start watching her. He had to. She was like a magnet for trouble. It was almost a nightly thing. Like she would purposely find the most dangerous part in Gotham to go and act like a ditz. She wasn't though. She knew better. He'd seen it. The simple smacks she gave to guys at the diner who got too handsy. She wasn't defenseless. Yeah those were small slaps to the hands, but they were a sign that she definitely could handle herself enough to know not to go into that damn alley. And there she went. In the damn alley. So like he had for the past few weeks, he swung down.

He should know better. He has bigger problems. Like that big fuckin' mafia guy who's selling drugs, weapons and people for gods sake. But there he was. Once again, kicking ass for the same girl, night after night. The simple finger point doing nothing as this time, she walked up- and grabbed it. Bringing his hand close to her face and resting it on her cheek. An unfamiliar touch that had his heart swelling and any bit of anger he held to her disappear in an instant.

She looked up to where his white covered eyes were and smiled, the grime on her face and wrecked hair not taking from the beauty she possessed. Her eyes twinkled under the dim Gotham lights, her smile twisted, breathtaking. "You always seem to be here just in time huh?"

A groan was heard from the men at their feet, earning a kick from her.

Jason's eyebrow tweaked at her action, a small smile creeping to his lips.

"Seems like it, you should be more careful, doll."

A nickname that came so easily. Her heart accepted it with open arms as she pushed her body closer to his, craning her neck back to look at him properly. "But then, how else would I see you Red?"

The man smirked under his helmet, a low chuckle coming out almost like static from the voice changer. Him too taking a step forward. "So, you admit you do this on purpose?"

A low groan erupted from the men again, this time Red kicking them to silence. Y/n hummed and rested her other hand on his waist, their chest pressed gently to each other. "Is that bad? I didn't really know how to work a signal in the sky, so I settled."

"On getting mugged?" The black haired man asked amused, the girl shrugging in response with a small giggle. Jason couldn't hold the smile that spread across his cheeks as he finally snapped the helmet off, the domino mask coming as a disappointment to the shorter girl. Still, she appreciated having something more than an off putting helmet to get off to from now on.

"It worked didn't it?" She spoke softly as she caressed his now exposed cheek.

"There were safer ways." He spoke back, barely above a whisper as their faces neared. Jason felt like his heart would pound out of his chest. Did she really do that for just a chance to see him? She... put her life on the line- for the possibility to see him? That-

That was the nicest thing anyone had done for him.

"Worth it."

Just like that, those last few inches were gone, their lips finally meeting in a soft, heart warming kiss.

Cough. Cough. "Fuckin'-- psychopaths- uggh-" Kick.

_________

Weekly visits became nightly, nightly became daily, and before they knew it, they lived together. Suddenly it became as easy as breathing, being together. Y/n's dumb plans didn't need to happen to get his attention, he was already there. She had his number. She had him in her bed. She had him. Jason knew this. And he was thrilled. He was worried at first. Was he moving too fast? Slow? No. She reassured him. It was just the right pace. She felt the same. They felt like all the pieces to each other's puzzles were finally falling into place.

Until the day happened.

Y/n, was, to put it lightly, odd. The girl had intentionally gotten robbed multiple times just to talk to the guy for god's sake. This, of course, led to her developing a certain set of.....skills.

See, to the common eye it would have looked like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she always knew when to go. She knew when he was watching her and when there was something....more important than her that needed help. So when she felt a new set of eyes on her. She knew something was up. It wasn't the other Batfamily members. They honestly....had a hard time wrapping their heads around her and deemed her tolerable at best. No. These were prying eyes.

These eyes didn't leave her. No, no. They stayed. For weeks. She felt them. They were learning. Listening to everything she said, everything she did, seeing everywhere she went. They picked it all up. They were picking up any information from when she got off work to how long she took showers.

And she liked it.

She felt guilty. She felt dirty. She didn't know why she didn't tell Jason. He was her everything after all, and boy would he be furious if he were to learn such things were taking place.....yes....furious.

Boy would she not want that.

So there she was, her wrist tied to a cold metal chair. Her struggles are no longer a problem, her shit talking too due to the gag they placed after the hundredth "when my boyfriend finds out" shtick. Her blindfold long removed as the man responsible sat in front of her, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at every detail of her exposed skin. Her dress shredded into pieces from the whole ordeal. Y/n held back the smile that tried to spread as she saw him shuffling uncomfortably as his eyes raked over her lower half, her thighs that were spread wider from being tied to opposite legs. Her lower region on display.

The man cleared his throat as he scooted closer, his legs wedging in between her spread ones. The light shone perfectly to every curve of his dark covered face. The only seen color being his eyes and the tips of his cheeks. "So. Shackin' up with Red huh? It must be fun. I imagine you play his therapist a lot? Heard he has alotta daddy issues."

The tied girl let out a huff as she turned her head. How dare he speak like that. He has no idea what Jason has been through. To put it so lightly.

The man tilted to the side to meet her gaze that had turned cold. He laughed. "Oh what? Did I hurt your feelings? Suddenly you feelin' tough or somethin'?" He leaned forward. And that's when she finally gasped. The gag of course muffled it, adding to the already hard to breathe problem she was having. "Yeah. Don't be. Ain't in any position to be acting all high and mighty."

When his hand raised on to her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her pluses before wrapping his hand around her neck to face him, her mind couldn't care less about the man getting physical. The only thing she could think of was what she was looking at. How....she knew how. There was a man who looked like a human but was actually an alien flying around, anything was possible.

So this was the man. She had of course heard of him. Not only from her significant other, but she did use to live in a not so friendly neighborhood. Even then, if you didn't know who this was, well, welcome to Gotham, where there's a Bat running around and a man whose face is literally a black skull. Yes. Black mask.

She mumbled.

The man sighed heavily and took the gag out. "If you say one more thing about the fuckin' Redhood- I will say fuck this whole plan and just send your head instead."

"Just wanted to say I didn't know death took vacations."

The nicely suited man barked a laugh as he stood and straightened his jacket. Y/n's smirk fell as he lowered his face to level with her, his hand resting next to her head dangerously close. "It's going to be fun breaking you."

____________

Jason was losing it. He had pretty much torn the house brick by brick searching for her. His love. His doll. His darling. She wasn't here. She hadn't been for days. Weeks? God what was he kidding. He knew exactly how long. He felt it. When she was taken. Like a sixth sense. He knew something was up. And sure enough, when he got home- she was gone.

He should have put the tracker in. He had talked to her about it, and she agreed to do it. It was safer. But he just...never got around to actually doing it. He had thought about performing some light surgery on her arm, nothing major, just putting it in her arm. That was a bit much. He had thought about putting it into a needle and doing it that way. Decided he didn't want to hurt her. Wanted to put it in her food. Didn't want her to choke. Thought about in a small box! Didn't want her to freak out and think he was proposing. So- here he was. Panicking because he had no idea where she was, if she was alive, and why she was even gone in the first place.

Jason tried to keep his mind from going to a dark place. The place that wondered if it was on purpose. She'd done it before. Stressed him out by putting her life on the line. He thought it was cute almost. "It's not cute anymore." He spoke to no one. The house was in ruins. His fists were bloodied and bruised from all the ass he'd been beating. There were no leads for weeks. Every stone was turned but nothing made sense. Friends couldn't get a word in, Jason created this whole new world where it was just him. "It's not fuckin'- cute- any- more-!" Each scream coming with a new hit, objects and people blending together. He was getting to that place.

What if she actually left? Not a game she played. Not some weird attention seeking act. She.....left.

It wasn't looking good, and it just kept getting worse.

__________

Her h/c sweat covered hair was swooped to the side, her fight dying down. There was no use, it was going to happen either way. "C'mon, don't pretend you don't like it, doll."

She winched. "What? Isn't that what he called you? Doll? Nothing special about it, you are a fucktoy after all." A laugh ripped from Roman's bare chest at his own twisted joke.

Yeah. There he was. Proud of the almost broken woman in front of him, naked and in charge of the situation. The blinking light at the end of the bed was a reminder of how fucked she really was. Both figuratively and literally. His fingers were gilding through her folds with an ease she was ashamed of. The sounds made making her stomach turn. She didn't like this. She wasn't turned on. She didn't want him......

These were the things she used to tell herself.

She was ashamed at how quickly she had felt herself give in. Was that what she always wanted? To be used as some fucktoy for some scumbag that hurt and used her and others however he wanted?

God no. She couldn't have.

She wanted Jason.

Then why....

Why did she spread her legs wider?

They spread as far as she could get them, her soaked core on full display for the camera to see, the man behind it zooming in as they themselves got closer. Getting a quiet growl like warning from Roman not to get too close.

The moans that followed were nothing short of pornographic. Her back was arched off the bed as her legs shook, those wrist restraints keeping her from getting a hold on the man who was putting her through euphoric torture. "Roman..." Her whimper sent a shock straight to the man's cock.

On full attention it stood, bobbing up and down as he moved to unhook her, repositioning her to face the camera on all fours. Her face was.....sinful. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth gaping opening, her hair tousled. Her body was even still shaking from her previous orgasms leading to her almost falling as Roman began his painfully fast and hard thrust. Her moans rippled straight from her chest out of her throat. His hand wrapped around her hair and yanked it back, her chest heaving and back painfully arched. Sweat dripped off their bodies from what seemed like hours long of pure fucking. His other hand came to her front to rub at her clit in fast motions that had her hips bucky in an unruly way as they couldn't find out to get away or push back. Opting for the latter.

She met his thrust hungrily every time as best she could, the room filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping together at harsh speeds. Roman's pace was unforgiving, it didn't let up after the next orgasms hit her.

"Where should I do it now, huh? You want me to cum in your tight hole again? You can't waste it like you did last time though. If you do, you won't be getting my cock for a long time. And a whore needs their masters cock now don't they?"

Y/n's mouth formed wide Os as she tried to form some words to satisfy him. "Fuck- yes Roman- fuck I promise-" Her moans ripped through. "T-to no-not waste any-of- ohh~"

This seemed to be enough because the next thing she knew, she felt it. His cock twitched violently as his hips lost rhythm, his cum spilling inside of her, filling her once more. His grip on her scalp burned, but she didn't stop from that twisted and sinister smile to spread on her face as she grinded her hips back. A sharp slap being delivered to her ass cheeks as Roman barked out at her, "Stop being such a cock whore." This threatening tone dropped almost immediately as he soon laughed, grappling her chin and tilting her back to kissing her, a sloppy wet heat filled kiss. "Now that video's a keeper."

_____________

Jason finally lost it. Be felt dumb. He felt hurt. He felt utterly betrayed. His sweet, poor darling- the actual fucking cumslut. For Roman. Sionis. He had been hunting her down for months. And there she was. Accepting- no asking- no- begging for Black masks cock. For his cum. The things she did for Jason, she was now doing for that scum. He was pissed. How fucking dare she? After all he's done for her? No- he couldn't think that way. There was no way. It was his darling. His doll. She loved him too much for that. No. It was all an act. It had to be. She would never do that to him.

This is what he wanted to believe as he watched the hour long videos that kept making their way to him. Her lips wrapped hungerly around another man's cock. Being pulled away just for her to stick her tongue out to get another taste, receiving a slap to her cheek. "Don't be such a greedy slut." Was Romans words.

Videos on videos of Roman fucking Jason's girl. Cum filling up every hole the scum could want, all eagerly accepted from the girl he swore would be crying to be saved, instead relishing in the fuck fest she was dealt.

His fist clenched around his cock, furiously stroking away. God he missed her.

Her face was covered in the white ropes, her mouth taking in as much as it could as Roman pumped himself in her face. Jason fucking hated it. But god did she look fucking hot. He hated it. He hated him. He hated her. But that didn't stop him from unloading on his computer screen. His brow furrowed as pure rage coursed through his blood. He was getting her back. And she would see who she fuckin' really belonged too.

______________

Y/n knew it wouldn't be long. She played with herself, her fingers dancing across her wet slit showing just how wet she was. Her moans gentle as she spread her legs wider for the camera. "C'mon closer, get nice and in there." Her voice coaxed, of course Roman shouting orders for the camera man not to move. Her pout aimed towards the angered man. "Well if you won't let him touch me will you at least? You know I can't do it myself, you ruined me Roman~" She cooed.

The man in question groaned out and walked over, his cock next to her face as he claimed to a kneeling position on the bed. "Well, warm me up first, doll."

"Yes sir~" Her free hand came up to stroke the semi next to her. Her smile was anything but sweet and innocent like she feigned. Her tongue poking out to taste the precum that had been building up from the show. "But it looks like you're already good to go." The wink that came after did something different to Roman. God. When had he become so fuckin' turned on by watching her? When did he get so hard by her just existing? When did he want to see her asking- begging for him and it not being about fuckin' with the hood?

He wasn't sure. But he didn't hate the feeling. Especially when he buried his cock deep inside her. Her legs were spread and the angle was perfect, her back to him and front to the camera. Was this guy a director or what? Surely this would make the hood pissed off. Even if not- damn was she a good fucktoy.

_________

It wasn't the middle of the night. No. It was broad daylight when he broke in. It had taken him way too long for his liking. He had gotten a dozen more videos before he had finally found Black masks place. It's not like he could have asked for backup, they wouldn't understand. Not like they cared for her anyway. No, he had to do it on his own. And damn was that a good idea.

'Cause there he was. Bullets flying everywhere. It didn't matter who, how many. Each one had a special bullet for them in his head. Each one of these fuckers responsible for her kidnapping. Her torture. Torture. That's what it was. She didn't like it. She hated- she hated it. Yeah. She hated it. Was ridiculous how many times he had to remind himself of that. Yeah the videos were convincing. But he knew her better than those videos. He knew she wouldn't actually be begging for scum like that.

"You ruined me, Roman~"

Kept replaying in his head. That same line.

"I'll fucking show you ruined."

_______________

There they were. Two guns. One trained on a man in a designer italian suit. The other trained to an all to calm on the inside girl. "Now now. You wouldn't want to waste your time just by having me kill her would you?" Roman threatened, the gun he held pushing further into the girls head, the same gun Jason had seen her sucking on in multiple videos.

The Y/n's head was throbbing. Not just from the gun in her head but because she was- so excited.

She really played the long game, huh?

Jason clenched the gun tighter. His mask was doing a great job of keeping it together, because he certainly wasn't. "How 'bout you just make this easier for both of us and. Let. Her. Go. Like you said- I don't want to waste my time." Whether you were on the receiving end or not- it sent chills down their spines and a certain tingle down below for the h/c haired girl.

Roman clenched his jaw tight. His arm that's as wrapped around her tighter as he backed up. And backed up. And backed up. "Now now Sionis. I've never taken you for someone who'd rather kill themselves then hand someone over. Must have really gotten desperate." His last words a growl as his eyes flicked to the girl in his arms.

Roman looked down, his arms more....slack as they fell more into a hug from behind. His eyes softened. "You have no idea..." The girl met his eyes with the same fondness.

Red. No not Jason's helmet. The color he saw. Pure rage rippled through him as he pulled the trigger. Not once. Not twice. Over and over and over again, unloading a clip that not only undoubtedly killed Roman ten times over, but regrettably, knocking both out of the large window that laid behind them. As fast as the rage was there it disappeared, leaving only panic as Jason launched out of the window without a thought other than, "God- no!"

Was it?

Worth it? That's what she was thinking. Y/n. As the smirk crept to her face, placing one last kiss on her now corpse kidnapper and lover, she pushed him further, a subtle pay back for his words and treatment to her for the last months she had spent with him. Her arms wide open as he hit the ground first. Her eyes slowly closing, the wind whipping by.

"Worth it."

___________

She was an odd one. The Batfamily deemed her actually crazy. Jason never listened. Why would he? She had such a good heart. She supported him in his vigilante ways. She had even said she might join him. She understood what it took to get what you want. Maybe that's why he wasn't so pissed at her. Because he finally understood as he watched her naked sleeping form on their bed. Right where it belonged. She wanted all of this. He should have seen it. The very first smile that almost hid the darkness within. Twisted, yet so sweet. Like cyanide in candy. He knew from the beginning she wasn't a normal girl.

But then again, he wasn't a normal guy.

But there was still punishment to be dealt.

Y/n awoke with a harsh yank to her ankle, her ass suddenly on the edge of the bed. Forcibly sat up, her eyes level with the stomach of the man she had been missing. Her eyes met the storm that raged through Jason's eyes and he grabbed her chin to look at him. Even out of her peripheral vision she could see he was fully nude, her bottom lip finding a place in between her teeth as a smile took over. "Hey Jay." She cooed.

He was ashamed at how eager his cock was the moment his name left her mouth. His eyes glared daggers at her as his grip tightened. "Don't act like that." She opened her mouth, spewing bullshit like always. But he wouldn't let her. Not this time. "Like you're this innocent sweet heart. No. You're not that are you? You haven't been for a long time, if ever."

She let out a mock offended gasp. "Jay....he did bad things, that has to count for something. He made me do so many bad things to him." She pouted, her puppy dog eyes that would normally get him having no effect- at least not the kind she was hoping for.

His palm slipped from her chin to her neck, lifting her slightly with the force as he bent at the waist. "Baby, I got all the videos. The only forcing I saw was him trying to fit his cock into your tight pussy. But you still begged him for it. Because you wanted it."

He was shocked to see her eyes hood at the memory, her lust filled look deepening. His stomach turning from it. "It did feel pretty good to be stretched out again. It had been so long." Fire burned through him as he practically threw her on the ground to her knees. He didn't let her settle before he had her by the hair, forcing her mouth to open as he shoved his fully ready to go dick down her throat. The action making her gag and fling her hands to his thighs. He caught her hands and held them with one hand while the other dragged her head back and further on his length.

"How fucking dare you?" He spat with venom. "Do you know how fucking worried I was? Huh? Just to find out you're just being a whore----- to that fucking low life!?" Y/n couldn't answer, her throat being abused by his unpleasantly harsh thrust that was gonna make it hard to talk later. Her breathing was already none existent.

"So many fucking weeks." He groaned out, his eyes finally looking down. Her eyes already meeting his stormy blue ones, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her mouth stretched painfully full. But she never made a move to leave. No. She was taking this punishment like a champ. "So many months of me searching for you. Then I see uggh--" Her tongue ran along the under part of his shaft, clearly he wasn't deep enough. So he pushed further. Her breathing became hard with each thrust. "Then he sends those fucking videos. You begged for his cum princess. You fuckin' cried for it. You wanted it all. Inside you. On you. You wanted to taste it mixed with yours. Well don't worry doll." Her lips moved, unable to smile properly around him, her heart swelling. She missed him.

His grip tightened as he leaned down slightly, his cock going impossibly further down, her lips touching the base, breathing no longer an option as he smirked down. "You'll finally get daddy's cum, the cum you really needed. And maybe if you're good, I'll let you cum too, so you can suck it off me again." And with that, he stood up straight, let her catch some of her breath, then fucked her mouth until he felt that much needed relief spill down her throat. Coating the back in white liquid with a loud throaty groan.

He released her head which she immediately swung back, hand to her chest as she greedily gulped down air. But not for a moment longer than needed. She was back in front of him stroking him, her eyes leaking tears as her legs became soaked with the flood that was her arousal. "Thank you sir." She smiled.

Why was he so pissed off at her smile? Because. It was the same smile- the same mouth Roman had used. He needed to make her his all over again. She was his. He picked her up by her arm and tossed her to the bed. "You're not done yet." He gruffed out as he pushed her chest to the bed and pulled her ass up. "How many times?" He asked running his two fingers along her slit collecting all the juices that poured out.

She poked her head around. "I'm....not sure?"

He scoffed. "You let him cum so much in you, you don't even remember?" Her head nodded slowly. He whistled lowly. "Well. I cause that just means we have a long night don't we?"

The excitement- genuine excitement that she radiated was almost enough to make him no longer pissed off. Almost. "But remember." He leaned forward, his hands going to her hips as he massaged them. Placing gentle kisses down her spine and along her shoulder. The more than welcomed touch considering the past few months spent with pure hate fucking and all around rough sex. "You still get punishment for being such a cock whore." Too soon.

His soft touches left almost immediately followed by harsh smacks to the ass. Before she knew it her ass was almost the same red as his helmet, only occasionally palming it to slightly sooth the pain. But this wasn't a pleasant punishment ment to make you more turned on. No. It was harsh and real. She knew she did wrong. She knew she needed to be punished. But boy did it fucking hurt. By the time he was done, she was a sobbing mess. Her ass would be sore for sure. But it was all worth it as the tip of his cock pushed past her puffy folds into her tight heat. A long vulgar moan was realized from both parties as he sat for a moment, relishing in the feeling he missed so much.

His hands gripped her tightly as he pumped every last inch of himself he could. The movement so painfully slow but so necessary. They needed each other. She didn't realize how hard it was being without him. But she was so fuckin' happy when he came to her. She held out and here they were. One again. She loved him, and he loved her. It was fucked up. But- they did.

His veins dragged deliciously inside her tight walls, the tip of his dick hitting that one spot just right. "I- ohhh- missed you Jay-" She moaned out softly.

Jason's pace was slow and gentle, just enjoying the feeling of being inside her. Fuck did he miss her too. "You better have." But it wasn't anymore. The speed picked up along with the force and before she knew it, she was a sobbing blubbering mess. Her only thought- Jason's cock ruining her. "Now. I'm going to ask a question." He reached down and wrapped a hand around her throat, bringing her back up to his chest. The angle made her cry out. "And you better answer the right way." His speed picked up as he guided her back into his thrusts. Each word emphasized with a harsh thrust. "Who do you belong to?"

It was a simple question. One they both knew. One she should have never made him question. One that from day one, they both knew the answer. There was never an option. There would never be an option.

"You." She breathed out, her stomach making a familiar feeling. Her walls clenching and unclenching with every harsh thrust of Jason's ruthless hips.

His grip tightened before flipping her over to her back, her legs immediately being upped to his shoulders, the new position making her scream out in pure pleasure. "Not good enough, doll." He growled, his lips latching onto her neck and shoulder. Marking the answer down...

She gripped the bedsheets as her back arched into him. "I'm yours Jason! Only yours I fuckin' swear it!" And with that, Jason smiled. His hand reached between to rub her clit and a matching pace.

"Good girl. You're mine." He leans down to her ear, pecking behind it. "and I'm yours." One final kiss to her lips and she melted. Her walls squeezed and her eyes rolled back. Her orgasm washed over her like no other as her legs threatened to capture and never let go of Jason. His high soon followed and he let himself go freely in her. Every last drop would stay there. Because she was his. And he was hers.

________

"We're not done yet princess."

#tw dubcon #tw kidnapping #tw yandere #jason todd smut #yandere jason todd #x reader #yandere Roman Sionis #jason todd x reader #crazy reader #tw suicide #tw violence #voyerurism #cuckholding #tw noncon #yandere reader

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illegal-spiegel · 4 years

Text

No Lying

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x gn!reader Genre: fluff Warnings: mention of blood (from a wound), making out Summary: Bakugo gets hit with a quirk that makes it impossible for him to lie Updated on 10.19.20

you’re apart of the Bakusquad

you’re best friends with Mina, so it was only natural for her to rope you into her friend group

Bakugo didn’t really ever talk to you at first unless it was an insult or he was yelling at you

you didn’t mind though, seeing as how he always acts like that

eventually though, he gets used to you being around and starts to chill tf out

you think he treats you like the rest of his friends now and you couldn’t be happier

he doesn’t though

he doesn’t get his other friends their favorite snacks. He doesn’t help patch them up after a rough training session. He doesn’t yell or insult you as much as the others. You’re definitely not just a friend to him but shh we don’t talk about that

you all were a happy friend group for months until the ‘travesty’ happened

someone hit Bakugo with a quirk that makes him tell the truth anytime he tries to talk

you all found this out after first defeating the villain

“Hey, Bakugo. Are you okay?” you ask worriedly as he sits on the ground with blood running from his head after being hit with a powerful blast

“No, my head is aching and throbbing,” he answers honestly before instantly choking up

normally, he’d brush off everyone’s worries and brag that he’s completely fine and he doesn’t feel a thing

but why did he just say that?

that wasn’t at all what he was going to say

you thought it was a little odd too that he was being so honest but you weren’t about to call him out on it when he’s in pain

“C’mon. Let’s get you to Recovery Girl,” you say as you help him up

he goes to say that he doesn’t need your help standing up and that he doesn’t need to see Recovery Girl

but instead, he says, “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

you almost fall flat onto your face out of surprise

the Bakugo just thanked you

Katsuki Bakugo, the hot-headed, headstrong, tempered, anger issues having boy just thanked you

you stutter out a ‘you’re welcome’ before dropping him off with Recovery Girl

he was red in the face for the next hour. It was mostly embarrassment but he was a little angry too that he didn’t lie

while he was there, he found it impossible to lie

he didn’t even tell Recovery Girl this because that would’ve been too embarrassing

when he got home, he refused to talk unless he knew some nonsense wouldn’t come out of his mouth

he tried to just be straight up silent but then everyone would start worrying about him and it was really just a bother

you ended up hanging out around him more though whereas the others gave him his space

“Why are you following me around so much?” he asks you one day, the question being more so out of curiosity than anger

he always sounds angry though

so you took it as you’re annoying him

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you. After that one fight, you’ve been really quiet. I just thought-”

“Thank you for worrying about me.”

GOD DAM-

“You’ve also been really nice here recently and it’s honestly freaking everyone out.”

he can’t believe he slipped up again

he stayed quiet for a moment, knowing he needs to tread lightly or else he’ll slip up again

“I don’t mean to,” he admits. That kind of sounds like something he’d say

“Oh, okay. I just don’t want you thinking you have to change who you are to be friends with us,” you reassure with a warm smile

he goes to say he knows that

it’s the truth so he can easily say that

so tell him why he says this instead

“You have a beautiful smile.”

he instantly slaps his hand over his mouth, absolutely mortified right now

you both gawk at each other, cheeks as hot as an inferno

neither of you can believe he just said that

the Bakugo just complimented you

Katsuki Bakugo, the hot-headed, headstrong, tempered, anger issues having boy just complimented you

you both remain silent for at least a minute, not knowing what to do

is he pranking you or something? He’s not really the pranking type though

just as he goes to silently leave, you squeak out, “Thank you, Bakugo. That means a lot coming from you.”

you’re staring at the ground and refuse to look at him

his heart is honestly beating too fast for his liking and he needs to get out of there

“Don’t mention it,” he says as fast as Kaminari’s bolts before briskly walking away

both of you are flustered for the rest of the day and no one can figure out why

he keeps acting like a love-sick fool and he hates it

he keeps complimenting you and saying nice things and ugh

when does this quirk end?

it’s been five days and he’s still acting like this

he just wants to call you a stupid brat to wipe that cute dumb smile off your face

on the fifth day, you come up to him and ask to hangout

this is nothing new for you two

what is new, however, is his answer

instead of brushing you off and letting you beg for him for a while

or agreeing but informing you it’s going to be boring

he says, “I’d love nothing more.”

he didn’t even realize that this was the truth until he said it

you’re shocked that he agreed so easily and even said that he would want nothing more than to do that

while you two are hanging out, you decide to be upfront with him

“Bakugo, do you like me or something? You’ve been so nice to me and complimenting me a lot. I-”

“Yes, I do,” he replies casually as if you two are discussing the weather

he takes a swig of his water before realizing what he just said to you

the water goes down the wrong pipe and the next thing he knows

he’s choking

he hacks out a lung while you pat his back

you’re kind of glad this happened because you need a moment to process his answer

he just straight up told you how he feels

oh my god

once he’s breathing normally again, you two are sitting in silence once more

“I, um, like you too,” you admit quietly, biting your lip afterwards

“Don’t bite your lip. That’s my job,” he says as he puts his thumb below your lip and forces your bottom lip out of your mouth

he can’t believe he just said that either

is that too forward? Did he scare you off?

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” you whisper back, your eyes meeting his

your face is the hottest it’s ever felt

he seems to notice but only pays attention to that for a second before his eyes are closing as he kisses you

you two makeout for a while

and after that, you two makeout a lot

like, all the time

you two do it in secret though, per your suggestion

you just figured that Bakugo would want it that way seeing as how you two will be teased a lot and it’ll just piss him off

after one specifically spicy sesh, you pull back to pant for air as you look him over

god, it really is illegal to look this good

his hair is disheveled from your hands

his lips are a little swollen from how hard you two were kissing

he has red marks littered over his neck from your lips and teeth

and you’re sure you’re much worse than him

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. If you weren’t suddenly being nice to just be nice, why have you been so kind to everyone and whatnot?”

you watch him press his lips together, your brow raising as you watch him seemingly fight with himself

“I was hit with a quirk that makes it impossible to lie,” he admits

now this is interesting

you don’t even realize you’re smirking until he speaks up

“Whatever you’re thinking, no.”

you pout and wrap your arms loosely around his neck

“I’m not thinking anything,” you feign innocence

“Yeah, right,” he replies sarcastically

you pout before deciding to let the innocent facade go

“When did you start liking me?”

you watch his lips press together again, a blush rising to his face

“C’mon, just tell me! I’ll tell you how long I’ve liked you if you tell me first!” you compromise

he huffs and rolls his eyes, doing his best to give you a bored look as he says in a monotone, “The sports festival.”

your jaw drops at this

that long ago? You weren’t even in the Bakusquad yet!

“Awe, you had a crush on me without me even knowing,” you coo, playfully pinching his cheeks

“Shut up. Your turn,” he snaps while smacking your hands away

you giggle and wrap your arms back around him, thinking for a moment

“Well, I thought you were cute on the first day. But then you’re ego was just so big and you were just so angry—”

“Okay, I get it,” he interrupts, glaring at you

you laugh at his reaction and lean forward to give him a sweet kiss before continuing

“Then, Mina had me join your friend group. I got to know you better and I realized how you show your affection for others. It’s all just hidden behind harsh words and actions. I see through it now though,” you finish softly, brushing some of his wild hair back before watching it spring back up

he stares at you for a long moment, just remaining silent

“That’s one reason I like you, you know. You’re so observant.”

you blush at his compliment, quickly hiding your face in his neck to hopefully conceal the embarrassed look coming over your face from his eyes

“Plus, you’re so easy to fluster,” he teases as he playfully pinches your thigh

the sound of your smacks to his chest are covered up by his laughter

it didn’t take long for Mina to catch on to you two though

“Bakugo, do you like (Y/n)?” she singsongs when all of you are hanging out in the common room one day

all of them wait for him to deny it and start to yell at her

“Yeah. We are dating,” he says calmly

they all gape at him in shock and surprise

“Stop gawking at me.”

after he speaks again, they all go into a frenzy

“You two are dating?”

“When did this happen?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

he pulls you into his side protectively as he growls at them before shouting, “Because it’s none of your business, you extras! You all are so annoying! I want to blow out my ear drums just so I don’t have to listen to you all yap!”

Bakugo then goes quiet

he, obviously, doesn’t want to blow out his ear drums

that was a lie

oh my god, it’s over

after a grueling week, he can finally be himself again

thank the heavens

“Aww, c’mon, Bakubro.”

“You’ve been so nice this past week. What happened?”

“I hate all of you. Leave me alone,” he snaps.

all of them smile at his crude words

every time he’d be nice, they’d frown and furrow their brows

they missed this

“You’re so cute when you’re mad,” you tease, kissing his cheek

“Shut up, extra,” he snaps at you next

you can’t take him seriously though with his face being as pink as it is and his arm tightening around you

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

MASTERLIST

More with Bakugo

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | chapter eleven

chapter eleven

main summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Chapter Warnings: Y/N POV: details of what happened to Stephen, her grandmas cancer, and very detailed explanations of how babies are made (as biologically accurate and not very graphic as possible) this is an angsty trauma filled chapter that made me cry a lot just writing it so I'm sorry in advance

word count: 3K

from the beginning <3

June 13th, 2010

There’s a knock on her parent's door at 4 in the morning, Y/N’s sound asleep on the couch back at her grandma’s, awoken by said grandmother as she hears all the noise beyond the porch. There are 2 cop cars at the main house, worry starts to settle over them.

She puts on a pair of shoes, taking her grandmother's hand in hers as they begin the early morning trek up the road, anxiety seeping in deeper and deeper as they get closer to the lights illuminating their driveway.

Her father is talking to an officer on the steps, her mother is crying behind him. “We’re so sorry for your loss,” the officer says and Y/N’s blood runs cold, numbing her from the impending despair.

“What happened?” Her grandmother asks, rubbing a hand along Y/N’s back in preparation for the worst.

“Evan was in a car accident,” her father says softly, knowing that Y/N knows Stephen was with him tonight. She breaks away from her grandma and without thinking she’s right in the officer's face.

“Which one of them died?”

“Ma’am,” it was never a good way to start the worst conversation of her life with that word or in that tone. She felt like a '40s housewife learning her husband wasn’t coming home from the war, only he wasn’t even her husband yet.

He would have been on next Saturday.

“I’m sorry, Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” he says the worst sentence she’s ever heard, and now she’ll never forget it. “The passenger side took the worst of it, once again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

She’s surprisingly calm, managing to whisper, “thank you,” before she’s walking off into the field, pushing everyone's hands away as she travels as far as he feet will take her.

She ends up at the willow tree by the pond as soon as the sun is rising, it happened a lot earlier in June than the rest of the year. The birds singing, the wind blowing against the leaves making them carry a tune in harmony together. The world is still spinning, life is moving on, but how?

She sat there against the tree for a while, picking blades of grass and weaving them into a chain, soothing her brain as she makes a pattern. Giving her hands something to do so they stop going numb, it’s the only thing that really reminds her that she's real, that she’s controlling the twists and tucks, the shape and length and the fact that it was created at all.

Ending the life of the single blade of grass as she picks it, never to be whole again. Snatched from its happy place, where it grew loved and surrounded by other matching green strands as they blew in the wind.

Then she's pulling fist full after fist full of grass out of the dirt, her hands covered in mud as she shouts, throwing handfuls of grass and dirt towards the pond. The once blue water starting to turn cloudy; disrupted and upset with her anger as it swallows her weapons, but it doesn’t make her feel better. All she did was disrupt the earth, changing the way this once beautiful patch of land used to look. She couldn’t help but sob, realizing that she was like this field now and her beautiful green pasture was disrupted, overturned and ruined.

The life that flowed through her died along with the love of her life.

“Stephen was pronounced dead on the scene,” the words echo in her mind in a constant circle like she’s stuck in a tin can.

It starts to reverberate, getting louder and louder as the same 7 words all run around in her head. Bouncing off the walls, smacking her down again and again as she hears them over and over and over… she’s holding her hands on her ears, shaking back and forth, sobbing when she feels someone wrap their arms around her.

She doesn’t open her eyes, instead, she's rushing to push them off of her, struggling out of their grasp as she fights them. Finally, she loses, being held in her brother's embrace as they both cry, he barely has a scratch on him when she finally looks at him.

she’s never been physical in her life, but she punched him right in the face. Her twin brother, best friend in childhood and the person she’s known the longest in her life. He held her close in the womb, crying if they separated as soon as they were born, she loved him deeply and yet she hated him something fierce at that moment.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Evan cries, “we were stopped at a red light, Y/N!”

“I don’t care! He was supposed to be my husband!” She swats at him, smacking his arms again and again as he tries to hold them back, holding her so tightly as she basically screams bloody murder in the field.

All she can see is his face, her beautiful happy Stephen. The first time she ever saw him, standing under a street light in Boston, papers in his hand and wonder in his eyes. The way he looked up at her, the glow of the light making a halo glow over his head.

She should have known he was too good to be true. Always destined to return to the heavens, he was truly angelic with his big emerald eyes that were only the tiniest bit yellow on the edge of the pupil, the way her name sounded on his tongue like a blessing coming true.

They buried him 2 days after what was supposed to be their wedding. Disrupting another beautiful patch of earth to hide him away forever, she placed a single rose on his casket, she never said goodbye and she never planned to.

“See you later, superstar,” she patted the glossy black box once last time before sending him down into the earth.

—

September 2012

This fucking willow tree and 7-word sentences…

“What do you mean you have cancer?”

Her grandma let a tear slip from her eye, “I’ve got colon cancer, honey, the doctors said I have another 2 years, maybe 5 if I'm lucky.”

Every time someone sat beside her in this one spot, she learned the worst information in the world. Sure Evan didn’t mean to kill Stephen, doesn’t mean she’s talked to him at all in the last year. with Grandpa dying only a few summers back, her favourite house cat now buried in the yard, she can’t lose her grandma now too.

“Okay,” she starts to plan in her head, her eyes about ready to jump out of her skull as she tries to think of all the things they need to do before it’s too late, “let’s go to England, let’s blow my bank account, you can’t leave me without going to England with me? We were supposed to get tea and pretend to be the queen and princess?”

She couldn’t stop the tears, her whole body heaving as she sobbed into her grandma’s dress, “you can’t leave me too!”

“Your grandfather and I have a fund for you, you were the last baby we got to raise when your mom went back to work, I want you to use it for that baby we talked about,” her grandma’s voice is barely a whisper, softly getting the words over her vocal cords as the tears joined Y/N’s on her dress.

Without another word, she took her hand and walked home, getting in her car together and heading to the closest fertility clinic, she booked her first insemination for February, pre-paying for a round of IVF hormones and everything to start in January, she had 3 months to plan.

Finding the perfect donor was the only hard part. She had 3 different books to choose from with all the clinics in the DC area sharing 1 sperm bank. She finally made her decision 3 weeks before they were set to get her pregnant when they updated the books.

Sample 2319, male 30’s, healthy, high IQ, 6’1, brown eyes, brown hair (curly). “Sounds a lot like Stephen,” her grandma agreed, saying his name for the first time in over 2 years, she knew this was her guy.

—

June 14th, 2021

Peeing on a stick shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is.

She hasn’t been this nervous since the first time Dr. Collins inseminated her. Laying back on the table at a weird elevation to make sure she got pregnant, her whole body tense as she thought of the possibilities of her future child.

Sample 2319 sitting in a cup not too far from her face as she prepared for a man she barely knew to put the semen of another man she didn’t know, inside her. She only picked this guy cause he was smart and tall, no health issues to report and the number made her think of Monsters Inc.

In her mind, she made a baby with a man she named mike wazowski, not knowing his real name was actually Spencer Reid and he was only just down the road at Quantico the whole time. It was the weirdest day ever, and then it became the second-best day of her life

Nothing could top holding her baby in her arms for the first time. Her grandma and mother beside her as they all cried, the perfect purple baby screaming on her chest as they tried to wipe the white gunk off her tiny body. her sweet little coos, seeing her swollen eyes open for the first time, the silence that overcame her as they made their first introduction to each other. Her little person, the love of her life, her wonderful Amoreena.

Her cry was perfect, like music to her ears she wanted to hear her little voice as long as she could because it meant she was alive and real. She was healthy and beautiful and the most perfect bundle of joy she could have ever made.

Now she was hiding in the bathroom to pee on a stick while her 7-year-old had breakfast in the next room. Oh, how times changed, but one thing remained the same, she was finding out alone again. Only this time she meant for that to happen, it was exactly 4 days since her period was supposed to start and it wasn’t there, neither was Spencer.

He had something to do that morning, but he’d be meeting them later that afternoon, it was Amoreena’s last day of kindergarten after all. She wanted time to either enjoy the thought of having another baby or cry in peace because for once it didn’t work, giving her a week to recover before trying again.

Amoreena was a miracle, the easiest IVF baby they ever made at the clinic, apparently. If she was pregnant this easily again it was a sure sign that he was Amoreena’s father too, only he could get her knocked up while not even trying.

She didn’t remember pregnancy tests taking this long, she flipped it over and walked out of the room, unable to think of anything else while she waited for 3 minutes to pass. Amoreena noticed she was being weird, studying her mother's movements as she paced the hall outside of the bathroom door.

“What are you doing?” She asked, curious as ever as she twirled lightly in her new princess dress.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Always mom, I’m the best secret keeper in all the kingdom, remember?” Amoreena smiled, holding onto her leg as she stared up at her.

“Your dad and I tried to make a baby,” she whispered, petting the litter hairs on her forehead as Amoreena looked up at her, her first little baby. “I’m waiting to find out if it worked, but we can’t tell anyone in case it didn’t, okay?”

Amoreena’s eyes were wider than she’s ever seen them, her mouth opened slowly as she understood the words in her mind. She didn’t look happy or surprised, nor upset or worried. She looked confused, “how?”

She laughed then, shaking her head as she lifted Amoreena into her arms, she would have to know soon anyway. “You know how every month mummy has a bad week where she bleeds and her tummy hurts?”

“Yeah?”

“When people with our parts grow up they make little tiny eggs but we don’t lay them like chickens do, they stay inside our tummies and wait to become babies and if they don’t we have a period and release all the stuff our bodies saved up that month to make a little person. You’ll have one soon too in a few years, probably when you're 12 like I was, and when people with a penis get old enough they’re able to help us make the babies like roosters help the chickens. Our bodies are really special and make some really cool things when we try to,” she explained it in the most simple farmhouse way she could.

“Like when the goats are all born in the spring and they just show up?” She tried to clarify, understanding it at the basic level.

“Kinda, you’ve seen the photos of you in my tummy and how aunty Shannon’s stomach grew when she had your cousins, I’ll get really big like that too if I’m pregnant, the baby will grow for 9 long months till they’re nice and healthy and then we’ll have another person in the family,” she couldn’t help but smile as she thought about it.

“How do we find out?”

She opened the bathroom door then and carried Amoreena inside, setting her down on the sink and pointing at the upside-down test stick. “We create a special hormone when we’re pregnant, it’s something that can be detected in our pee!” she explained it like it was magic, watching her get excited instead of grossed out.

“So I peed on that stick and if it has 2 lines I have a baby in my tummy, if not then your dad and I have to try again.”

Amoreena picked up the test and looked at it, keeping it out of her mothers sight as she did so, “there’s two lines,” she lit up waving the stick lightly as she squealed.

Y/N wrapped her up in her arms and twirled her around, “you’re gonna be the best big sister ever!”

“How do we tell dad?” Amoreena’s soft voice whispered in her ear as she snuggled into her shoulder.

“I have an idea,” she whispered back before carrying her back into the kitchen.

Her All About Me project was sitting on the counter, ready for Y/N to drive her into school today. She set Amoreena down on the floor to watch her as she took some tape and taped the stick to the bottom corner of the project. “Pass me the marker, please?”

Amoreena ran to the counter to get it, coming back and placing it in her mom's hand before leaning in to watch what she was writing.

“I’m going to be a big sister sometime next February!” Amoreena read the words as her mother wrote them, unbelievably excited.

“Your dad can read that at the ceremony tonight!”

“I thought you said we can’t tell anyone yet?” Amoreena questioned her, like always.

“Your teacher can know, the other kids won't know what it means, it’s just important Spencer sees it, but we will wait to tell nanny and poppy, okay? Sometimes the babies don’t always stay, it’s sad so we keep it a secret until they’ve got a tiny little heartbeat in there,” she didn’t want to scare her, but she knew it was always a possibility.

“Then we try again,” Amoreena smiled, “It’ll be easier now that you don’t need Dr. Collins to help you, how did you even make me without Spencer?” She didn't use his real name often anymore, only in times when she wasn't referring to him as her father.

She sat down then, pulling Amoreena into her lap so she could hold her while she thought of the right words. “So we have eggs, but people with penises have something called sperm. When adults, and I mean adults you have to be at least 25 to have a baby it’s the rules,” she teased her slightly, ticking her arms.

“Adults have sex, babies are made when someone with a vagina and someone with a penis get together. But when you don’t have a partner with a penis to help, sometimes they’ll donate their sperm to the doctor's offices to help people like me make their perfect little families all by themselves.”

“Interesting,” is all her little mind can say, she has learned so much in one day, Y/N was surprised she was still listening and surprisingly still for once. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We won't know for a while,” she smiled, holding Amoreena closer to her chest. “How do you feel about all this?”

Amoreena was quiet as she thought about it, “is Spencer the guy who gave the doctors the sperm for me?”

“We think so, but we don’t know, why?”

Amoreena looked at her softly, “it wouldn’t be fair, I know he said I don’t need a father but why do they get to have him for both?”

“I think Spencer is your father, you’re just as smart and wonderful as he is, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re his baby too. but if you want to know if he isn't, when you turn 18 the doctors will tell you who it is, it's completely up to you to find out,” she whispered, the tears starting to fall down her cheeks as Amoreena tried to wipe them away.

"I like thinking he's my father, so he is." Her mind worked in the most wonderful way. Y/N couldn’t help but hold her close as she lightly cried, “I had a dream yesterday that I had 8 sisters,” her voice was so soft and innocent as her tiny hand cupped her mother's cheek.

She gasped lightly at the words, remembering Spencer’s panic in the middle of the night last night, how scared he was to leave her all alone with 9 babies and no one to help her. They knew something that she didn’t yet, cheaper by the dozen seemed less like a dream and more like a prophecy.

“I’m so happy to make your dream come true,” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’m happy, the baby just makes me emotional.”

Amoreena placed her hand on her tummy then, “I love you, baby.”

Y/N stuck her tummy out as far as she could, “I love you too, big sister,” she said in a funny voice to make Amoreena laugh, leaning back in the chair as she held her.

And just like that, getting pregnant with Amoreena was bumped into 3rd place for the best day of her life. Sharing the moment with her and no one else was perfect, insuring she knew that she was just as important moving forward as the little person she was growing this time.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 let me know if you would like to be added as well!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.4k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week.

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent. He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you. Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #javi x you #javi x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos netflix #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #pedro fandom #the rules of engagement #better love #angst #slow burn #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #smut

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

Hind Sight

This is both inspired and a sort of prequel to Starfics’ answer to my prompt, I loved the idea of it so much that I started a Demon Bull Divorce AU, have fun!

Hindsight

Like a lot of things in hindsight MK could see that this was a very dumb idea.

It was a spur of the moment idea that came to him and Mei as they saw Red Son in the garage with his signature jacket hanging up because said fire demon was currently up to his elbows in tuk-tuk engine bits.

Red Son had just shown up at the noodle store one day declaring that he was there to ‘pay off his father’s debt’ after the whole lunar new year event. Everyone was a bit suspicious at first but Mei and MK decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, after all they knew he wasn’t all evil. True to his word he helped out with fixing stuff and had offered to upgrade the Tuk-tuk, after a few weeks they had managed to convince him to hang out with them after work as well.

That day MK had figured out how to shrink himself and after showing Mei she grinned and suggested they surprise Red Son with it.

Which was the aforementioned very dumb idea.

Said idea was for MK to shrink himself and then have Mei put him in Red Son’s jacket pocket, and when Red Son put it back on, have Mei ask the fire demon if he has seen MK and when he said no ask him to check his pockets…boom! Itty MK!

So, the joke was set, a shrunk MK in place and Mei was now walking up to Red Son as he clambered out of the Tuk-Tuk’s mechanical guts wiping away the grease from his hands.

“Hey Red boy” she beamed.

“Hey dragon horse girl” he said back as he got up.

“Have you seen MK?”

“No but I need to show him how to operate the upgrades…” he began but stopped when he looked at the clock on the garage wall, his smile dissolved into mild panic.

“Is that the time?!” he yelped and rushed past Mei grabbing his coat, igniting his hands to burn off all the grease and oil that had clung to him still and began to make a move for the door. “I’m sorry I need to get home tonight, tell Noodle boy I’ll show him tomorrow, okay?” Red Son yammered quickly.

“Red wait!” Mei cried as he vanished into a swirl of fire.

“Did you check your pockets?” she whimpered sheepishly.

MK felt like he was in a weird fair ground ride, cushioned in fabric and being swung around like on a rollercoaster; it was kind of fun. Not to mention he found a wrapped candy in here and at his current size it was as big as a pillow! He could hear Mei and Red Son talking and waited for his que but then things got very bumpy and then felt very hot and weird for a second as he felt his whole body move in a way that shouldn’t be possible for him before the background ambience of the city suddenly died into a hushed sound of far-off clanking and whirring.

He poked his head out of the pocket to see he was now in an old Chinese style mansion but it was underground and hewn from the rock itself, the walls were adorned with demon Bull family heirlooms and pictures all showing the grand history of the conquering demon clan. MK could hear Red Son muttering to himself.

“I’ve got enough time to check on the projects and get in my best clothes…did I remember to check the repair schedule for the clones?”

MK was about to poke out of the pocket and announce himself when Red Son stopped by a large door that seemed to lead to a main hall, he seemed to hesitate near the entrance as MK and no doubt Red Son could hear angry raised voices.

“How is it I was the one stuck under a mountain but you are the one stuck in the past?” Demon Bull King demanded.

“I am thinking of our legacy and heritage, things you seem keen to throw away!” Princess Iron Fan retorted.

“Our pursuit of power has only brought us trouble!” came the angry reply “We need to move with the times!”

“Listen to you!” Princess Iron Fan screeched “You sound that useless son of ours!”

MK poked out of the pocket and looked up at Red Son who looked forlorn but not surprised as he carried on past the door his shoulders hunched over as he hurried through. Red Son came to a kitchen that seemed big enough to feed a whole court full of people but it was sadly empty and hollow except for one corner where a bull clone was currently working at a stove top. It saw Red Son and bowed respectively.

“I don’t think family meal time will be happening tonight” Red Son declared “so I will be taking my evening meal in my room…again…” the bull clone nodded and got back to preparing said meal. Red Son continued walking through the vacant halls as the vicious shouting ebbed away to quiet muffled sounds. He came to his room and sat at his desk; MK looked around to see his room unlike the rest of the castle had a bit of life to it. There were posters of car designs and movie mechs adorning the walls, a work table filled with small cabinets of tools and gear and what looked to be a shelf filled with scrolls and old tomes. MK had wondered why someone as tidy as Red Son would have what looked to be an arranged pile of tinfoil and fabric in a corner of his room before he realised that must his bed. He remembered Pigsy saying how some demons prefer nests to human style beds.

Okay I really need to show myself before things get even more awkward MK decided and he started to climb out but froze when he heard the door open, Red Son turned to see his mother glaring at him and MK quickly dived back into the safety concealment of the jacket.

“You’ve ruined him” she hissed, and MK could feel Red Son flinch. “Your father was a proud mighty demon King who conquered whole armies alone and made the heavens fear him and now looked at what you have done!”

“Isn’t this better?” Red Son said quietly “I mean…this way we won’t have to worry about him being hurt or sealed… aah!” came the pain gasped as MK could hear a very sharp and painful smack, MK grabbed the fabric of the pocket as Red Son’s whole body violently jerked to the side.

“Be quiet you worthless whelp!” she snarled “I kept our family name safe and proud for centuries and in one year you’ve weakened your father, the great Demon Bull King to the point that he wants to ‘settle down peacefully’!” she said the last bit dripping with venom and MK wished for Red Son to speak up or say something or at the very least move from where he was sitting but he didn’t.

“I’m sorry mother…” was all he managed after a moment of silence.

“Sorry doesn’t undo what you have done!” she spat and MK listened to the sound of her shoes moving away, “Sometimes I wish you had never returned!” she exclaimed coldly before shutting the door.

The fabric around him lurched as Red Son moved and he could feel energy pulse around him like the sky before lightning struck, it was only then did MK realised how dumb this idea really was. Red Son ignites into flames when upset or angry and it’s pretty obvious his clothes are fire proof to deal with that.

MK wasn’t fire proof…

MK made a mad scramble out of the pocket and leapt away just in time for a massive inferno engulfed where he had been hiding and everything else around it. He landed on the cold stone floor and patted himself down to make sure nothing was on fire and once he was sure he wasn’t smouldering he looked back up at the crackling fire ball that was his friend. Red Son still hadn’t moved from the desk but was now hunched over it his hands clawing into his fiery hair his eyes tightly shut but flames still leaked out and his whole body was shuddering as he tried to control his breathing.

MK decided that maybe he should give the fire demon with known anger issues some time to breathe and started to make his way to hide in the nest till he seemed to have calmed down but as he tiptoed his way across the room Red Son sensed the movement. The fire evaporating into the air as Red Son turned around and scanned the room, he glanced down to see a tiny MK in mid sneak.

Red Son looked at MK confused.

MK looked at Red Son worried.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Heh heh …Ta da!” MK said weakly and held out his hands as if to show off “Look what I can do now!”

“Noodle boy?” Red Son muttered quietly as his brain tried to fathom him being there before it clicked that he was and what that might imply. “How long have you been here?” he asked a look of dread falling on his face.

“Oh pssh!” MK tried to dismiss “Not long…no not long at all!”

“Noodle boy” Red Son growled, “How long?”

“… … …” MK struggled to come up with a decent excuse before sighing and returning to his full size, if they were going to have this talk he wanted to be able to look him in face. “Since you made a mad dash out of the garage…”

Red Son gave a groan and covered his face before returning to slump on the desk.

“I know this is going to sound dumb but is everything ok?” MK inquired, “I don’t know how demon families work but that…didn’t sound good.”

“Everything’s fine Noodle boy!” Red Son declared sharply, “My parents are just…going through a rough patch, that is all!”

“A rough patch huh?” MK muttered before walking over to the desk and lightly touching Red Son’s face where the red mark showing where his mother had slapped him was now fading away. How many times had that happened and no one knew thanks to demon healing powers? Red Son batted his hand away and snarled angrily.

“Yes!” he snapped and glared at his desk.

Things were clicking into place in MK’s mind, in hind sight he should have wondered why Red Son showed up out of the blue and wanted to pay off some demon debt, why he had wanted to stay around them as long as possible and even agreed to hang out in the evenings and only on certain days [apparently for family meal times] would he actually go home before anyone else.

MK remembered in the first week of Red Son coming over, Pigsy finally gave in and let Red Son help by telling him to try and get his old tricky stove working again. Red Son had not only fixed it but cleaned it up and gave it a full work through and when he was finished the thing looked and worked as if brand new. Pigsy in his joy of getting his stove back to its prime for free patted Red Son on the back and declared he had paid back the debt in spades.

MK had wondered that day why Red Son had looked so upset but had dismissed it when a moment later the fire demon had gone on a tirade about how insulting it was that Pigsy thought his father’s life was worth only an afternoon of labour.

Maybe Pigsy and Tang had cottoned on a lot sooner than he had because after that they would always find little things for Red Son to do to ‘pay back the debt’.

“Red Son” Mk said as these thoughts mulled in his mind “Was there even a debt to pay off?”

Red Son turned to face him, he fidgeted with his hands for a few moments before sighing.

“I…I…I thought you would be more at ease if you thought that I was honoured bound to behave…”

“Why didn’t you just say something?”

“Like what?!” Red Son retorted “Please may I come over here because I rather spend my days with my enemies rather than my parents because they’re constantly fighting and I can’t do anything to fix it?!” Red Son jaw snapped shut and his hair flared up angrily. “Because they don’t! Fight all the time…I mean…” he exclaimed as he tried to back pedal out of the conversation.

MK watched Red Son and felt a wave of pity come over for him, it was like looking into a mirror of seven years ago. He could almost feel the emotions Red Son must be going through right now, the uncertainty of what was going to happen next, the guilt of not being able to stop it, that gnawing anxiety of thinking if he was to blame somehow. And that horrible cold fear of knowing that sooner or later one of them will be coming up to take their frustration out on someone who won’t fight back…

He thanked the gods regularly that he was fortunate enough that it was Pigsy that caught him dump diving behind his store, how different would his life had been if Pigsy and Tang hadn’t taken him in? He probably had starved to death on the streets that winter.

“Everything was supposed to get better when Father came back…” Red Son muttered to himself but was jolted back into the room as MK put his hands on his shoulders.

“Your parents are going through some stuff right now, so do you want to hang out at my place while they work it out?”

“What?” Red Son spluttered.

“Maybe they just need some space I dunno” MK said, “but what your mom did was not okay, and I’m worried about you”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends you dummy!” MK laughed “and friends help each other even without demon debts to pay!”

Red Son stood up and pulled out a duffle bag from his wardrobe, he started to fill it with clothes, a stuff bull toy that looked to be antique and over-night necessities.

“You seem to have experience with this sort of thing” Red Son ventured quietly as MK helped him put his tools away in a box for travel.

“Let’s just say I’ve been where you are” MK said softly.

“In your experienced opinion…will me not being here helped my parents to reconcile?”

MK swallowed a hard lump in his throat, he didn’t know if it helped with his parents because he ran away from home and as far as he knows they never came looking for him. Mk was on the streets for three weeks before that fated night at Pigsy’s and it’s been seven years since then and he’s only ever caught a glimpse of them while during his deliveries on the streets.

“Sure, they will” MK answered with a smile “I hope so!”

Red Son left a note telling his parents exactly where he was and how to contact him before they left.

MK wasn’t all that surprised when after explaining the situation Pigsy happen to have a spare fold out bed in the store room.

#monkie kid red son #monkie kid mk #demon bull divorce AU #red son

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vanserraseris · 3 years

Note

END OF PART XIV - I feel like I should say that things don’t really get any happier?? A few years have passed since the last part and Eris is a little ooc. Just a warning that there are mentions of character death and blood. Thank you to everyone who reads.

omfg i am SO sorry it took me forever to get this part up. anyway im crying

Prince of Ashes. Part XIV.

masterlist.

Eris sat on his stool once more, the old wooden legs creaking under his weight. He was well aware that the small, ugly tavern was well below an acceptable place for him to be, but he’d needed a break. Pity, Eris thought, that he hadn’t been able to find one. He shook his head, little pieces of broken glass falling from his hair and onto the sticky bar top. He felt blood dripping down the side of his face and wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The female behind the bar had pressed herself up against one of the shelves, had put as much distance between the two of them as was possible. Eris simply pushed the glass in front of him towards her, no emotion in his voice as he said, “I’ll have another, if you don’t mind.” Her brown eyes widened before she whirled around, quickly grabbing the already open bottle of cognac behind her. With shaking hands, she poured the drink into his glass.

Eris could hear her rapidly beating heart and scowled, bringing the glass to his lips and draining its contents. The female rushed to refill his glass just as the doors to the tavern opened. Eris didn’t turn to see who it was, he didn’t have to. He recognized his friend’s scent, scrunching his nose as he wiped at more blood that dripped down his face. Eris’s ears twitched at the sound of Lagos walking towards him, his boot-clad feet crunching the broken pieces of glass on the floor.

Eris tried not to breathe in too deeply as Lagos pulled a stool towards the bar, the wooden legs dragging through a pool of blood, it’s iron scent burning through Eris’s nose.

“Have you been doing that all day?” Lagos sounded very disappointed as he sat down.

Eris wasn’t entirely sure whether Lagos was talking about the drinking, or about the two dozen faeries he’d killed. It didn’t really matter, his answer remained the same, “Just started.”

“It’s unlike you to drink without company.”

Eris raised a brow, turning his head in his friend’s direction, but looking past him. Eris stared at the dead faerie slumped against the dark wood of the bar as he spoke, “Are you here to join me?”

Lagos sighed, moving so that Eris could look at him instead. “I’m here, Eris, because Rufus told us where you’d be. He’s worried, we’re worried, and you won’t tell any of us a thing.”

Eris scowled, turning away from him to face the female behind the bar.

She was staring at him differently now, the fact that she recognized who he was evident in her lovely features. “How much for the whole bottle?”

“Ten coppers,” she said, voice clear despite her obvious nerves.

Eris shoved his hand into the back pocket of his brown pants, placing ten gold marks on the table instead. “I’m buying the bottle and I’m buying your silence.” Eris made sure there were flames in his eyes as he looked at her.

Eris hadn’t known that the rebels he was looking for would be sitting in the tavern he’d entered. They’d paused at his arrival, their loud talking turning into hushed murmuring as he’d sat at the bar. Eris had seen the leader, had recognized her from the large scar over her brow, and wished he hadn’t. They’d all put up a good fight, would have made excellent warriors had they not chosen to fight against Beron.

Eris had decided to spare the young female behind the bar, the only survivor, because she’d reminded Eris of his mother. She placed the bottle in front of him, nearly dropping it as she said, “Yes, my prince.”

“I think it would be best if you left,” Lagos advised, tilting his head towards the door.

Eris only briefly watched the female as she grabbed the gold, as she scrambled out of the tavern, stepping over a dead male as she practically ran away from the bar.

Eris sniffed, swirling the cognac in the bottle as he slowly pushed his full glass towards Lagos. Instead of speaking, Eris chose to lift the heavy bottle to his lips.

“You aren’t going to find happiness at the bottom of that bottle,” Lagos muttered, running a hand through his long, dark hair. The gold tattoos on each of his fingers seemed brighter than usual in the gloom of the tavern.

Eris rolled his eyes, “I’m not trying to find happiness.” He raised the bottle in his friend’s direction before he took a long drink, “I’m trying to drown my sorrows.”

Lagos furrowed his brows, “I think you’ve had enough.”

“I’ve definitely not had enough.” Eris shook his head, the scent of blood making him dizzy. Perhaps if he drank a little more, he wouldn’t be able to smell it. “I finally understand why Cato was always in such a foul mood, though.”

“Eris—”

“The High Lord has me taking over some of his duties,” Eris waved a hand, eyes scanning the small space around him, looking over all the dead faeries. Eris hadn’t known the extent of what his father had been making Cato do all these years, had never bothered to ask his younger brother what his duties had been outside of questioning prisoners at The Forest House. Being in Cato’s shoes as Beron worked to find his replacement had Eris feeling absolutely dreadful.

Lagos took a deep breath, “This is what Cato did?” Of course Lagos would be horrified. Eris had been sent to the small town outside Calchas to find the steadily growing rebel group, and had been ordered to kill them if he did. Rebel groups in Autumn seemed to be getting more and more popular; Eris wasn’t surprised.

Eris faced his friend, looked into his dark brown eyes. “Horrible enough to drive anyone mad, isn’t it?”

“It would explain why you yelled at Rufus this morning.”

“Fuck off, Lagos,” Eris snapped, “Honestly, if you’re here because Rufus is worried, you’ve come here in vain.”

“I’m here,” Lagos snarled, “Because if Rufus can’t get through to you, I’m not sure anyone else can.” Eris couldn’t count the times his friends had tried to talk to him after Lucien had left Autumn, after Cato and Owain had been killed. Eris hadn’t wanted to talk to them, had pushed them away when they tried.

Eris huffed a humourless laugh, “You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.”

“Evidently,” Lagos grabbed the bottle from Eris’s hand just as he’d been about to bring it to his lips, “Of course you’re fine, Mother forbid anyone worry about you.” He slammed the bottle onto the bar.

“Don’t start with this shit again,” Eris was tired, he’d had a long day, he didn’t want to listen to anything Lagos had to tell him — he’d heard it all before.

“This is an intervention,” Lagos waved his hand, “I’m intervening. I’m not going to sit here and watch you drink, following your father’s orders as you try to win a throne you’ve never wanted.”

Eris wiped at the blood on his face again. “Who says I don’t want it?”

“You!” Lagos raised his voice a bit, “You’ve been saying it since I’ve known you!”

“Well, I changed my mind,” Eris ran a hand through his hair, he’d given this issue much thought lately.

“I’m going to steal my father’s crown and I’m going to rule Autumn.” Beron wasn’t good for this court, he’d always been too selfish, too power-hungry, too cruel. Maddox wouldn’t be a good High Lord, he was better off leading the Royal Guard. Priam was just as likely to abandon Autumn as he was to rule it well. And Rufus didn’t want the throne, even if Eris thought he would be the best one on it.

Lagos sounded frustrated as he said, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

Eris flashed his friend a smile, “Not sure yet, but I’m a patient male, Lagos. I’ll wait another 300 years for that crown if I have to.” Eris had never been humble, it was easy for him to see that he was the only reasonable option, the only one of his brothers who could be a decent High Lord after he got rid of Beron.

Lagos sighed, reaching out with a hand, “Eris—”

Eris growled when Lagos placed that hand on his arm, “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m taking you home,” Lagos snapped, no longer touching him though, “Obviously, we need to talk. Unless you’d like to fight this out, just like we used to.”

“Tempting,” Eris lifted his chin, “But I just spent a good hour fighting out my anger.” That, and Eris had never beaten Lagos in a fight, and they’d fought countless times in the years they’d known each other.

“Fine, let’s just,” he held his hand out to Eris, an offering, “Let’s go home.”

There was a time where Eris would have taken his friend’s hand without question. Lagos, who had stayed by his side for nearly three centuries and was in danger because of it. Eris looked at Lagos and saw a brother, just another brother he could disappoint, another brother he could fail. Eris pushed his stool away from the bar, “You’ll have to drag me there,” he declared as he stood up.

Lagos rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, “Don’t fucking test me, Eris, I’ll do it.”

Eris waved a hand dismissively, “Go ahead.”

Eris hadn’t truly believed Lagos would do it, but when he fell to the ground, the back of his head smacking against the hardwood floor of the tavern, he guessed he’d been wrong about how much shit Lagos was willing to take from him before he snapped.

“What the fuck?” Eris snarled, kicking out one of his long legs.

“You fucking asked for it,” Lagos said through clenched teeth, his arms around Eris’s torso as a bright light flared around them.

Eris vaguely realized that Lagos had winnowed them somewhere, most likely to the yard outside his cottage.

Eris and Lagos tumbled and rolled in the long grass, fists flying. They were both punching and hitting and swearing, Eris was keeping a tight leash on his flames the whole time, still self aware enough to prevent burning one of his best friends. Eris heard Micah, would have recognized his voice anywhere, as he called out to them.

“Following orders blindly,” Lagos growled as he tried to pin Eris underneath him, “Being horrible to Rufus, ignoring your mother.” They tumbled a little more in the grass, “You’re better than this.”

Eris pushed Lagos roughly with one of his hands, “Am I?” Eris didn’t really think he was, not after all the things he’d done. Eris wasn’t a good male, that much he was certain of.

Before Lagos could respond, he was wrenched off Eris by a livid Widge. “I can’t believe you would fucking do that.”

Eris sat up, raking a hand through his now messy hair. He couldn’t remember the last time Widge had been angry, and almost felt bad for having played a part in it. Micah got down on his knees beside him, placed a hand on his shoulder, it took all of Eris’s strength not to shrug him off.

“You can’t seriously be angry at me,” Lagos growled, staring up at Widge, incredulous. “Our friend just killed over twenty people — decent, hopeful, hard-working people — because they wanted to overthrow the worst High Lord in Prythian, and you’re angry at me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Widge started, “But I think we’re all old enough to use our words instead of our fists.”

Micah shook his head, looking at Lagos with furrowed brows, “This isn’t what I had in mind when I said we needed to work things out.” Eris stiffened at the thought that his friends had been discussing him when he wasn’t there, but Micah continued speaking, anger clear in his tone. “I’m certain this was uncalled for, Lagos.”

Lagos threw his hands in the air, “You’re on his side?” Lagos seemed more surprised than hurt, “Why are you on his side, Micah?”

Micah sighed, his other hand coming up to rest on Eris’s arm. “Because he’s upset.”

“I’m not upset, why would I be upset?” They all seemed content to ignore Eris as they continued talking.

Lagos snorted, “Right, that’s the reason.”

Micah flushed, opening his mouth to respond, but Widge spoke first. “I think everyone needs to just take a breath,” he helped Lagos to his feet.

“You can take a breath, I’m not done speaking,” Lagos muttered.

Widge looked slightly panicked as he brushed some dirt off of the other male. “Enough, Lagos, just… just stop for a minute.”

Lagos ignored him, turned to face Eris, brown eyes glowing gold, “I always saw through your unbothered, arrogant, asshole act. Always. Tonight, I could not.” Lagos shook his head, “Keep the mask on long enough, Eris, and you forget what’s underneath.”

Eris held his oldest friend’s gaze, “There’s no mask.” Eris wasn’t some secret hero, he wasn’t some misunderstood male with good intentions, “I’m just my father’s son.”

Micah tightened his hold on Eris’s shoulder, “Lagos,” he said in the tone he usually reserved for ordering soldiers around, “Leave him alone.”

Lagos didn’t look like he wanted to leave Eris alone, he looked like he wanted to hit him.

Eris couldn’t blame him, but he felt oddly at peace knowing that he’d probably pushed Lagos too far. “I’m leaving,” Lagos muttered, “I’ll return when you snap out of whatever mood you’re currently in,” that statement directed at Eris. Eris wasn’t planning on snapping out of his mood anytime soon, but he watched as Lagos winnowed away without another word, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Just as Lagos left, Micah placed gentle fingers on Eris’s chin, moving some of Eris’s hair to look at him closely. “You’re bleeding.” He didn’t need to ask the question he so clearly wanted to, Eris knew what he wanted.

“One of the faeries I killed tonight threw a bottle at me,” Eris mumbled as Micah tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better look, “She had a very good arm.”

“It’s very unlike you to follow such orders,” Micah’s emerald eyes looked troubled.

Micah wasn’t wrong, Eris had gotten very good at talking his way out of orders he didn’t like. Eris felt blood trickle down the side of his face, and Micah leaned closer to him, pressed the clean sleeve of his shirt against Eris’s brow.

“My father doesn’t trust me.”

“Do you want him to?” Micah stopped pressing his sleeve against Eris’s face, his hand replacing the fabric as he held onto Eris, his thumb resting gently on Eris’s cheekbone.

“I need him to.” Eris hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to Micah.

“What is the cost?” Eris shuddered when Micah’s thumb slowly stroked his cheekbone, “What will it cost you?”

Eris knew the cost. He hadn’t been determined enough, hadn’t been focused enough on becoming High Lord all these years. He’d liked spending time with his friends, liked spending time with Rufus and Lucien. He’d liked trying to charm pretty females and handsome males, liked getting wasted on faerie wine and pixie.

He needed his father to trust him — that was the first step in taking his crown — and that meant Eris needed to get his hands dirty, needed to follow those orders with a smile on his face. Eris knew what it would cost — his friends, his brothers, his mother — and he was prepared to pay the price. Eris looked into Micah’s clear green eyes as he answered, “Everything that matters.” Micah bit the inside of his bottom lip, nodding once.

Eris froze when Micah inched closer to him, their noses almost touching, eyes half-lidded. “Eris, please—”

Eris didn’t really want to hear what Micah had to say, so he simply decided to close the distance between them. Eris tilted his head, mouth slanting across Micah’s, eyes fluttering shut when he didn’t pull away.

Micah’s lips were soft against Eris’s, the hand cupping Eris’s face was firm as he pulled Eris closer in a breathless gasp. Eris’s tongue brushed against Micah’s, and Eris felt some of the control on his magic slip.

Eris lifted his hand, tangling his fingers in Micah’s light brown hair, everything about the other male familiar. He decided that this would be the last time, his other hand fisted in the blades of grass by Micah’s hand.

With one final tender kiss on Micah’s lips, Eris pulled back, resting his forehead against Micah’s, eyes closed. “I need to sit on that throne,” Eris bit the inside of his cheek, tasting blood. He loosened his hold on Micah’s hair, “Maybe then I can fix this court.”

Micah pulled back, moved his hand so that it rested against Eris’s neck. “You do what you have to, Eris, but I don’t — I know I am selfish for it, but… I don’t think I can sit back and watch you.”

Eris’s eyes snapped open at the sound of Micah’s wavering voice. Micah wasn’t selfish, he was anything but selfish. Eris hadn’t been expecting Micah to be so upset, his cheeks were flushed, tears streaming down his face. Eris had to remind himself that this was for the best, that if he stayed away it would keep him safe.

“Don’t waste your tears on me, Micah,” Eris murmured. He would have kissed them away if he didn’t think it would make things infinitely more difficult.

Micah took a deep breath, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, “I need to go.” Eris felt the sudden urge to beg him not to. Instead, he just sat frozen as Micah stood to leave.

Eris stared at Micah’s feet as he walked away. He vaguely heard Widge trying to stop him, had nearly forgotten that Widge was still there. He ripped at a patch of grass, loosing a long breath.

Eris was still staring after Micah when Widge dropped down to sit beside him. “They’ll be back.”

“I don’t want them to come back,” Eris snarled, “I want to get rid of you, too.”

“I don’t think it matters what you want,” Widge ran a hand through his copper hair, “I mean, obviously it does,” he cringed. “What you want matters, it should always matter, it’s just that I think you’re lying.”

Eris wondered if it was possible to both want them to come back and want them to stay as far away from him as possible. “You’re not leaving?” Eris asked, turning to face Widge.

Widge flashed Eris a small smile, knocking his shoulder into Eris’s. “Not a chance.”

“I’m going to lean on you, then,” Eris muttered.

Widge shifted closer to him, “You can lean on me whenever you like.”

Eris crossed his arms, kicked his legs out in front of him, and slumped against Widge’s much smaller frame. “Everything I touch, I turn to ash.”

Eris felt Widge shake his head, “That’s not true.”

“It is, though,” Eris sighed, “Over two centuries of friendship just went up in flames.” Which Eris had to keep reminding himself was what he had wanted.

“They’re just worried,” Widge said, sounding very sure, “They’re also probably too proud to admit that they’re also a little afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Eris wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. The last thing he wanted was for Widge to tell him that they were all afraid of him.

“Afraid of losing you.”

Eris stared at his boots, the brown leather stained with blood. “Oh,” he said, feeling rather stupid for not having anything better to say.

“And I think you should know, Eris,” Widge continued, “That you’re nothing like your father.”

Eris didn't think that was true, but he was glad someone thought so all the same.

45 notes · View notes

qitwrites · 3 years

Text

growing pains

Fandom: Boku no hero academia

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

5 times the Bakusquad tells Bakugou they love him + the one time he says it back

(AO3)

Ashido is many things. Book smart isn’t one of them.

No really, she’s got so much going for her with her dancing, her strength, her versatile quirk, her perky attitude and even her distinctive appearance, but she’s not one for the books. She doesn’t like them, and they clearly don’t like her back.

Her grades thoroughly reflect this hate-hate relationship.

Ashido tries though, she really does- even if it’s just cramming a few days before the exams, she tries to study. Yao-momo had even gone out of her way to help, but it just doesn’t do the trick. She knows she needs to get her act together and figure this out because she can’t be a hero with a failing grade, and the anxiety and fear starts taking its toll, leaving her restless and upset.

So, when Bakugou sees the pink-haired, pink-skinned pain-in-the ass sulking in the common room, he’s horrified by the words that leave his mouth-

‘Want my help?’

Ashido doesn’t even glance at him at first, choosing to stare at the wall forlornly. She slowly looks up to catch his eye, looks around, realizes that they’re all alone, snaps her eyes back to his and her jaw drops.

‘Me?’ She points a finger at herself. ‘You’ll tutor me?’

‘What did I just say dumbass?’

‘I just- BAKUBRO, THANK YOU!’

‘Shut the fuck up and get your shit. We’ve got our work cut out for us. And raccoon eyes?’

Ashido turns to look at him, eyes bright and shiny.

‘Tell anyone about this and I’ll kick your ass.’

Ashido beams. ‘It’ll be our little secret!’

To her credit, he sees her try. She’s distracted and constantly jumping up and down, too jittery to be in one place, but she also pushes herself to focus, to really absorb the material. Bakugou’s rough with her, the way he is with Kirishima, but he’s generous with the praise too, or as generous as he’s capable of being. It makes him feel all kinds of gross, disgustingly soft and gooey things when Ashido’s eyes go warm with pride when he pays her the smallest compliment.

They work hard for the two weeks leading up to the exams. Kirishima joins them for every session in addition to the stuff he does with Bakugou separately, and between the three of them, they manage to cover most of the syllabus quite thoroughly.

The day before the exam, Bakugou sees the nerves rolling off Ashido.

‘Oye!’

She flinches and turns to look at him, throwing him a sheepish smile. ‘Yes, Blasty?’

He bristles at the nickname but recognizes that there’s no malice, no intention to mock, nothing really- just a nickname meant for a friend. She isn’t provoking him- she’s just nervous and falling back on old, comfortable habits.

He grunts, ‘You nervous?’

Ashido chuckles. ‘Course I am! Don’t wanna let you down, you know?’

Bakugou smacks her lightly on the head with a roll of practice sheets.

‘Who do you think tutored you? Don’t underestimate our sessions. Get in there and fucking obliterate those stupid tests.’

Ashido’s smile grows more confident, and she gives him a huge thumbs up, bumps hips with Kirishima and jogs over to her seat. The bell rings, and the exams begin.

The tests are not bad. Bakugou notes that a good majority of the papers contain material that he’s covered with the two properly, and works his way through the problems, the equations, the literature, all of it. In the very back of his mind, in a place he barely refuses to acknowledge, he hopes that they’re doing ok.

A week after their final exams, Bakugou is walking back from the training centre when he sees a ball of pink approaching him at an alarming speed.

‘BAKUBRO!’ Mina hollers, arms raised over her head as she outright sprints at him.

Bakugou furrows his brow, chest expanding as he gets ready to yell at her when she interrupts him-

‘I passed EVERYTHING!’ Her smile is humungous, wide and warm and genuine to its core. ‘AND I ACTUALLY DID WELL!’

Bakugou doesn’t even realize he’s smiling back, that feral, triumphant grin he has when he beats someone during training or takes down a villain. He’s proud of himself, and he realizes, with a surprising amount of acceptance, that he’s proud of her too. Really damn proud.

He’s a bit slow to realize that she hasn’t stopped barreling towards him though.

‘RACCOON EYES, DON’T YOU DA-‘

Ashido collides right into him, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Bakugou curses the entire way, but Ashido out-laughs him, her body shaking with joy.

‘Thank you!’ She beams down at him, pulling him into a warm hug. ‘You have no idea what this means to me.’

Bakugou wants to push her off, wants to stand up, spew out some curses and stomp away, back to his room.

But he’s also proud. He’s also happy for her. He’s also glad she did ok. That she worked hard and was determined to make him proud and that she isn’t going to get held back or expelled or something.

So, he blames it on the summer heat when he not only doesn’t push her off but rests a hand on her shoulder, gives her a quick pat, counts to 10 and THEN shoves her away.

Ashido pulls off easily enough, still laughing. She bounces back to her feet, dusts off her track pants and offers him her hand. The blonde looks at it, huffs, and takes it with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

Ashido yanks him to his feet with a strong, firm grip and her eyes go soft and warm and radiant.

‘Thanks again, Bakugou.’

‘Tch, whatever. Fuck off.’

Ashido giggles. Her phone suddenly starts ringing and she pulls it out of her pant pocket.

‘Oh, it’s my parents, I gotta take this!’ She starts walking back to the dorms. ‘Let’s go out this weekend, get some food at the mall. My treat!’

‘I don’t want to fucking do-‘

‘Bye babe. Love you!’ And with that, she’s gone, her laugh echoing around the courtyard.

There’s an absolutely atrocious, disgustingly gooey feeling curling around Bakugou’s chest.

He wonders if Recovery girl has any medicine for feels.

---

Bakugou knows for a fact that Sero is 90% memes and 10% tape.

He has no scientific evidence to back up this claim of course, but he’s definitely right.

The thing about Sero is that the longer you spend time around him, the more you can appreciate his stupid sense of humour, his great taste in mangas, and his ability to make the people around him smile.

Bakugou hates him completely, or so he tells himself. There’s no scientific evidence to prove on the contrary either, thank god.

So, with his shitty sense of humour and his easy-going nature, it’s natural to find Sero with a smile on his face. Not the kind of sunshine happiness that Kirishima has, but more of a mellow, easy joy. His body language exudes a relaxed vibe, immediately making the people around him lower their guard, and he shares a love for healthy food with Bakugou, earning him the blonde’s begrudging respect.

Bakugou finds the tape hero sitting at the kitchen island on a Tuesday night. It’s past Bakguou’s bedtime, but he’s hungry enough to warrant a midnight snack, though he’s not expecting any company. Turns out, neither is Sero.

‘Oh, hey.’

Immediately, Bakugou’s shackles are up. Because Sero isn’t smiling. He isn’t teasing him, there’s no humorous lilt in his voice, no mischievous glint in his eyes, nothing. He’s hollow almost, his skin pale and his eyes sunken in. Even his breathing seems off, too fast and too shallow all at once.

‘What are you doing up?’ Bakugou asks, quirking a brow.

‘Could ask you the same.’

Sero is barely looking at him. He has his phone in a vice-grip, and he looks like he’s going to throw up.

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

Sero jolts at that, eyes darting all across the room, and he can’t seem to look at Bakugou. Can’t seem to sit still or calm down. Bakugou can taste his anxiety, and it’s making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He feels protectiveness - strong and vicious and ridiculously overpowering - all the way in his toes.

‘Nothing, ha, I’m fine.’

‘Tapeface, I’m not fucking blind. If you don’t want to fucking talk about it, fine. Just don’t lie to my face.’

Sero finally looks at him, and he looks lost and scared and helpless. Bakugou’s never seen him like this, and the protectiveness surges.

‘I- I didn’t expect anyone to be awake. I’m not sure, you know, how to talk about it. I don’t even know what to do.’

Bakugou grunts to show him he’s listening before turning around and slowly pulling things out of the fridge. He remembers Sero’s love for fruits and soy and all things healthy and decides to make some Mapo Tofu. Not because Sero will like it or anything, the blonde just really likes Mapo Tofu, ok?

Bakugou begins the task of pulling pots and pans out of the cabinets and gets to prepping the ingredients. He keeps himself busy and fills the space with the comforting sounds and smells of food because he is an expert at being unable to talk about his feelings. To articulate his thoughts sans anger and rage and panic. And he finds that it's easier, even if only a little, to talk when the focus isn’t just on you. When there’s stuff going on, when there are other focal points. It’s less scary.

‘My mom is getting surgery.’

Bakugou pauses in his movements. He stays still long enough to indicate to Sero that he’s listening but goes back to work so the focus is still on the food, so Sero will continue to speak. His voice is uncharacteristically soft and so pained, and something in Bakugou churns horribly. He works more softly, so he can hear everything.

‘She’s had medical issues all my life, so it’s nothing unexpected. She gets surgery pretty often, but it’s never any less scary.’

Bakugou can’t even imagine what that’s like, to have a parent regularly undergo medical treatment and surgical procedures.

‘It’s the first one since I got to the dorms. I’ve never been this far away, and I can’t-‘ Sero’s voice chokes. He breathes deeply and continues ‘-I can’t calm down. I begged them to let me come home but they refused, said I need to see this UA thing through, do my own thing, all that.’

Bakugou continues to cook. The kitchen smells warm and spicy, and the sound of sizzling spices saturates the space between them, and he thinks he can sense Sero calm down a little.

‘I get it. I do. They're right and logically, I can accept that. I just. Fuck, this is horrible.’

Bakugou doesn’t offer any words of comfort or advice because what does he know? He has no idea what Sero is going through, and anything he says might sound insincere or plain insensitive. So instead, he cooks. He cooks the meat, mixes in the spices, and tastes the broth. He works fast and efficient, his movements practised. When it’s done, he plates up two bowls, and sets one in front of Sero, taking the seat next to him. Sero’s at the head of the table, so Bakugou ends up on his right.

Sero stares at the bowl and then looks up at Bakugou.

‘Mom makes me Mapo Tofu when I’m upset,’ he grumbles by way of an explanation. The blonde proceeds to douse his serving in extra chilli oil and peppercorns because he made the overall dish at a much more tolerable spice level. NOT for Sero or anything, just because. You know. For the fuck of it.

Sero stares at the bowl of food silently before picking up the spoon.

‘I haven’t told the rest because I couldn’t find a way to talk about it.’

Before Bakugou can figure out a way to respond to that, Sero continues, ‘I’m glad you know, is not so bad to have someone to talk to. Or at, I guess.’

Sero digs in, and after the first bite, his eyes light up.

‘Holy fuck,’ he breathes, ‘this is so good.’

Bakugou smirks, digging into his own bowl and humming in agreement. It’s probably the best Tofu he’s made so far.

‘Shit man,’ Sero says in between big bites, ‘I freaking love this. And you. But mostly this. But also, you. Like 65-35? Maybe 60-40.’

The blonde snorts and Sero’s grin gets wider. They eat in relative silence, with the occasional comment from Sero and the sounds of them kicking each other playfully under the table. When they’re done, Bakugou rinses the bowls in the sink and joins Sero on the couch in front of the TV. It’s gotten ridiculously late, but he doesn’t want to leave him alone.

Sero rubs the back of his neck. ‘I uh, I don’t want to go to my room right now.’

Bakugou leans over the couch, grabs two throw blankets from a bin nearby and flings the yellow one at Sero.

‘Play that cool documentary on speedcubing,’ he barks out, tucking himself under his own red blanket. Sero gives him a wide-eyed look before navigating to the right piece on Netflix. He gets comfortable under the throw, and they fall asleep to the sound of people solving Rubix cubes at inhumane speeds.

Shoji finds them like that in the morning and gently shakes them awake. Sero’s phone has a message from his parents, telling him everything’s alright, and that’s the only reason Bakugou forgives him for gathering the blonde in a big, warm hug before the sun is even up.

He crawls into his own bed 5 minutes later, and his heart feels lighter than ever.

Maybe an antacid will help with all of these stupid, horrid feels.

---

Bakugou doesn’t like people.

As a general rule of thumb, he dislikes them almost instantly. People are loud. They’re invasive, annoying, clingy, and they never smell good.

People are also cruel and selfish and use you as they please.

Bakugou doesn’t like people; until he comes to UA.

Because the people in UA are loud, invasive, annoying, clingy, and never smell great either.

But they’re kind. They’re smart, driven, capable, funny. They work hard, they play hard, and they’re mostly selfless. They don’t flock to him simply because he’s got a great quirk or something. Truth be told, they’re all pretty formidable themselves. Grossly underdeveloped and years away from being at his level, but Bakugou knows that with time, all of his classmates will reach insane heights. They wouldn’t be in UA otherwise.

So Bakugou tries. Mostly because his stupid squad won’t leave him alone, but he tries.

When people hang out in the common rooms, he’s downstairs with them. If there’s a stupid Christmas party, or it's someone’s birthday, or the class wants to go out shopping or to play in the pool, Bakugou tags along with them more often than not.

There is a compromise though. With a social battery as small and easily drained as his, it isn’t uncommon for the class to find Bakugou chilling in a corner with his headphones in, simply taking in the vibe rather than actively participating. There’s no bad blood over this though- they kinda get it. Not everyone is as friendly or as vibrant as Kirishima or Kaminari. They’re honestly just glad he’s there at all, so they do their best to make sure he’s included while letting him set his own pace.

Bakugou’s in one of his recharging phases when he spots Jirou.

The earphone jack hero is wandering around, looking a little worse for wear. There are people from both 1A and 1B milling around, talking and laughing in the common areas, and the energy in the room is almost stifling. The blonde doesn’t miss the way Jirou covers her ears at one point.

From what he can tell, Jirou is an ambivert. She enjoys the company of others often, but she’s also perfectly fine being on her own, with a book and some music to keep her company. Right now, she seems exhausted, her own social battery running dangerously low.

Bakugou catches her eye. She gives him a small wave and he sticks his tongue out at her, pulling the skin under his eye down on one side. It’s petty and dumb, but he sees her huff a laugh and slowly meander towards him. Bakugou goes back to closing his eyes and tipping his head back, enjoying the familiar texture of the common room couch and the sound of the music in his ears drowning out everything else.

He feels the couch dip next to him, close but not too close. Jirou doesn’t touch him, doesn’t bother him, doesn’t shake or poke or otherwise engage him. She just sits there, stock-still.

When his eyes slip open again, Bakugou sees that she’s got her hands in her lap and she’s mimicking his posture, comfortably seated on the couch with her head tipped back. Her signature headphones are nowhere in sight though, and her eyes are open and red.

Distantly, Bakugou wonders if she’s forgotten them. That would suck ass- he’d be lost without his own pair. And Jirou’s relationship with music is on a level no one else can fathom- it’s literally part of her DNA, her quirk, her identity.

Bakugou isn’t sure what compels him to do it- maybe it’s because they both like bugging the hell out of Kaminari. Maybe it’s because Jirou is no-nonsense when it comes to hero work, which he can respect. Maybe it’s because, beneath all the teasing and smart-ass comments, Jirou has often looked out for him, advocating for the need for personal space when the idiot brigade drains him.

Whatever the reason, Bakugou finds himself pulling out his right earbud and holding it out for her, a silent invitation.

It takes maybe 4 seconds for him to feel the bud lifted gently from his fingers. Jirou is careful to not jar his own earbud when she adjusts his in her right ear, and Bakugou moves to raise the volume a little.

It is a bit annoying, yes, to have one ear open to the noise around them, but it’s not unbearable- far from it. He’s got some reggae on right now, a genre he indulges in when he needs to calm down and just relax his body.

When he turns to look at her, Jirou’s got a smile on her lips. Her feet are tapping to the beat effortlessly, and her fingers are mapping out the tune on an invisible fretboard. She opens her eyes and looks over at Bakugou, and her smile widens, crinkling the edges of her eyes.

Thank you, she mouths, flashing him another blinding smile. It makes Bakugou huff.

‘Whatever,’ he murmurs under his breath. The look in her eyes could not be mistaken for anything else- unadulterated gratitude and a heavy dose of love.

These gooey feelings are going to give him an upset stomach, Bakugou’s calling it right now.

---

Bakugou doesn’t even notice the pattern till Kirishima points it out to him.

It goes a little something like this- Bakugou feels off during training, or maybe doesn’t do as well as he’d expected on a test or project, or something just doesn’t go right. So naturally, he’s in a piss poor mood.

The squad’s antics don’t do much for him then, doesn’t really raise his spirits or anything, and he usually goes back to his room, slamming his door shut and pacing around like a caged tiger.

And that’s when his phone rings. The caller ID reads Pikachu.

‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘Bakubrooooooooo,’ Kaminari croons, and Bakugou wants to break something.

‘Fuck of-‘

‘You ever wonder if cereal is soup?’

All the fight drains out of Bakugou, leaving only confusion in its place. ‘What?’

‘Yeah, I mean, is cereal like a sub-category of soup or something? Wouldn’t that make sense?’

‘Dunce-face, what the fuck? That doesn’t even make sense? You don’t cook cereal?’

‘Yes, but you could eat it with a soup spoon. That should count for something.’

‘I hate you. So much.’

‘Aww, love you too bro. Ok, gotta go, byee~’

Bakugou stares at his phone, shocked and confused and annoyed.

But no longer angry. No longer pacing about, no longer in a foul mood.

Another time, after a particularly bad bout of training, ending with aching forearms and snarls of frustration because he needs to get better but it’s not happening fast enough, Bakugou wants nothing more than to scream into a pillow and maybe eat some hot sauce.

Again, he gets a call from Kaminari.

‘Wha-‘

‘Do you ever just think about pizza and cry?’

‘Huh?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I think humanity reached its peak when it invented pizza, you know? And that makes me cry. Such perfection.’ He can picture Kaminari making a chef’s kiss gesture, and it pisses him off.

‘This is why you called me? Are you fucking with me?’

‘It’s really an honest question Bakubro. Don’t you ever tremble at the sheer magnificence of pizza?’

‘Delete my number.’

‘No can do. Gotta go, love you, bye!’

And again, he’s gone, just as quickly as he arrived. And again, Bakugou is left feeling baffled and miffed but no longer angry, no longer itching to scream and claw and break something.

He still eats some hot sauce though.

Kirishima is with him after one of his bad days, sitting on his bed and trying to pacify him.

‘It’s ok, it-‘

‘Shut up, Shitty hair! Fuck-‘ His hands tremble with the need to just do something, vent somehow, to break the tension in his spine. He doesn’t want to snap at Kirishima, which is why he never lets him tag along when he stomps away to his room after a bad day, but the redhead can be ridiculously caring sometimes and Bakugou doesn’t want to hurt him.

He doesn’t know what else to do though.

‘Shit, I- you need to leave, get out before I-‘

His phone rings. Pikachu, it says.

‘Dunce-‘

‘I’ve decided that, in the event of an apocalypse, you and I are teaming up together.’

‘Wha-‘

‘I know you’d much rather team up with Kirishima, cause he’s so strong and handsome and he’s your best friend, but he’ll be fine. I, on the other hand, will die immediately. So, it’s just you and me Blasty.’

‘Fuck right off, why would I-‘

‘We could name ourselves the atomic blondes.’ Kaminari suddenly makes a whooping noise. ‘Damn, that’s perfect Bakugou! I gotta print tee shirts right now, we’d look amazing.’

‘I am not wearing anything that matches you, miss me with that shit.’

‘I promise it’ll be black, and like, soft, with skull patterns or something.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘I gotta go anyway, but you’re stuck with me Bakubro. Anyway, bye, love you!’

They end the call, or rather, Kaminari cuts it before Bakugou can get an insult or two in there, and when he looks back at Kirishima, he sees a big, goofy smile on his face.

‘What?’ he grumbles, tossing his phone on his bed.

‘He does that often?’

‘What, call me and say really random, really stupid shit? Yeah, all the damn time. I need to block his ass.’

‘Kinda sweet though, huh?’

Bakugou cocks his head. ‘What’re you talking about? It’s a fucking pain.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t seem as mad anymore.’

‘I-‘ And yet again, Bakugou is disgruntled and confused and irritated at himself, for getting swept up by Kaminari’s pace, but he’s not angry. All the fight has mostly bled out of his limbs, and he feels more or less normal if only a little on edge. Nothing too difficult to deal with.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Bakugou breathes. Kirishima’s smile is a tad wider, and he scoots over on the bed, making some space for Bakugou while he pulls out his laptop, ready to load up some shitty videos.

‘Tell him about this and I will never speak to you again,’ Bakugou grumbles finally, settling in next to Kirishima, leaning most of his weight into the redhead.

He feels Kirishima’s chest rumble with laughter.

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

Bakugou wonders if anyone’s ever tried to harness the power of feels to run turbines or some shit, because this stuff’s turning out to be overwhelmingly powerful.

---

In terms of quirk compatibility, Bakugou has found his perfect match in Kirishima.

The blonde’s quirk is perfect for offence. Granted, it’s exceptionally versatile and he can handle his own just fine, but with Kirishima, he feels invincible.

Red Riot is unmoving, unabashed, and utterly unbreakable. He knows Bakugou inside out, knows his moves, his tactics, his signals. They fight like a well-oiled machine, adjusting and improvising with ease. Fighting alongside Kirishima, alongside Red Riot, is like breathing. They almost dance around each other, and between taking down villains and conducting search and rescue, they’ve made themselves a formidable hero pair even before graduation.

So, it’s not uncommon for them to be paired up even when they’re working and interning under different heroes. They’re that good.

They’re on a mission together when things take a turn for the absolute worst.

Most of the pros are down, caught in the crossfire or too busy protecting the civilians to engage in combat. There are fires blazing everywhere, smoke congesting the air around them so much that Bakugou can barely breathe.

Riot stands next to him, breathing slightly laboured but otherwise unhurt. Bakugou has a cut on his forehead, blood running down his face, but he feels ok. Good enough to rush into battle and do his part in subduing these shitty villains.

But experience has taught him better than to run in with no plan, even when he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eager to rush into the action. Experience has taught him that without a moment to catch his breath and restructure the plan to achieve their goals, he’ll be doing a lot more harm than good. It’s frustrating as all hell, but he’s a hero in training. You learn this stuff on the job.

‘What do you think?’ He asks the redhead.

Kirishima straightens out his back, hands on his hips. ‘The elemental quirk user will probably be the biggest pain in the ass.’

Bakugou nods. ‘It seemed like a water quirk. We need to get her away from the buildings, away from the piping. There was also that shitty smoke user, he’s the reason the air is barely breathable.’

‘Yao-momo’s masks would’ve come so in handy right now,’ Kirishima muses with a smile.

Bakugou grunts in begrudging agreement but doesn’t comment further on it. ‘There should be three other villains, all with high-level quirks. I’m not sure which other pros will free up to help, but we have to isolate them, move them towards the construction site,’ Bakugou points somewhat East of their current location, ‘as per the plan.’

Kirishima nods in agreement and catches Bakugou’s eyes and the blonde’s breath hitches.

They don’t talk about it, but here’s the other thing- they’re probably going to get hurt, maybe even fatally. Not because they’re weak or they want to or anything, but the villains seem endless. They’re fucking strong too, and even with an army of heroes, the villains seem to come at them harder and faster the longer this battle goes on. Bakugou can feel his own stamina start to vain, and he knows Kirishima will hit his limit too, slower than the blonde but still. There will come a point when Kirishima’s skin won’t harden and Bakugou’s blasts will lower in intensity till all he can manage are sparks.

And even then, he knows they will fight with their fists and their bodies and their teeth. That’s what heroes do- they put everything on the line, for the people and for justice.

More often than not, they lose their lives for it.

Well, for what’s it worth, Bakugou could not have asked for a better partner by his side in such shitty, dire times. Kirishima’s soft smile seems to reflect his sentiments.

‘Hey, Katsuki?’

The hero code of conduct frowns upon the use of personal names in costume. You have a hero name for a reason, and it helps preserve your sense of anonymity and privacy, even if it’s pretty useless at its job.

For Kirishima to name him, and first name him at that, just goes to show how serious the situation is.

‘Yeah, Ei?’

‘Make me some hotpot when we get back, ok?’

Bakugou inhales deeply, coughs because of the stupid smoke, and his fists clench tight enough to leave crescent moons in his palms.

‘Only if I’m in the mood, Shitty Hair,’ Bakugou retorts, his voice far too soft for the King Explosion Murder hero. But that’s ok- here is only Eijirou, Katsuki, and the world burning around them. Soft is ok here.

Kirishima’s familiar belly-deep laughter gives him a boost of energy.

‘Let’s kick some ass.’

Bakugou feels, for one glorious moment, like he can take on the entire world.

They take their first few steps before Kirishima steps in front of him, blocking off his path. When he looks up to catch his eyes again, the blonde’s protests and insults die in his throat.

Kirishima’s gaze is trained on him as he slowly reaches forward and grabs Bakugou’s right forearm with his right hand, fingers digging into the muscle. It’s a firm, solid grip, reassuring and warm and so very familiar. His eyes are bright, bold, and wine-red. And they’re so full of love, brimming with the kind of affection, respect, and adoration that Bakugou never thought he’d be subjected to. Kirishima opens his mouth as if to say everything his body is already telling Bakugou.

‘I know,’ Bakugou interrupts, voice hoarse. Because he does know. The redhead is his best friend in the entire world, his person, his rock. ‘I know, Ei.’ His own fingers wrap around Kirishima’s wide forearm, gripping tight with calloused, too hot fingers.

Kirishima flashes him another soft smile past his headgear before letting go. He waits for Bakugou to catch up and they walk together, side by side, equals.

When they see the first villain, doing her best to uproot an entire building, Bakugou casts one last look at Kirishima, sees his positively feral smile, and charges with the force of a wild beast.

There are no feels there, just adrenaline, rage, and trust so thick, even concrete would crack under its weight.

---

When you’re training to be a hero, things can go wrong.

Accidents happen. People don’t move out of the way fast enough, or there’s a domino effect of some sort, or the aftershocks of one attack reaches a place it shouldn’t.

Bakugou’s switched up his training partner, choosing to train with Iida to fine-tune his aim and work with a fast-moving target. His blasts hit the mark sometimes, but not always. The gym is huge, so they aren’t really risking anyone with their training; at least, that’s how it is for a while.

But then, Bakugou takes aim and blasts at Iida, Iida dodges swiftly, the attack takes out a portion of the rock formations in the gym, and suddenly there’s a landslide headed right at Hagakure and Kaminari.

Bakugou doesn’t even think about it; his body moves before his brain catches up, and he’s suddenly in front of the two, arms raised to obliterate the debris when he realizes that a portion of the mountain had been laced with explosives for someone else’s training, and his quirk would make things exponentially worse. With the last few moments he has, Bakugou shoves Chargebolt and Invisible Girl away roughly and gets buried under the avalanche of debris.

The last thing he thinks he hears is a chorus of voices yelling Bakugou before his vision goes black.

---

And that’s what Bakugou remembers when he wakes up to white. White walls, white curtains, white sheets.

Unfortunately, the noise isn’t white. It’s annoyingly and stupidly loud.

‘There are too many of you here,’ Recovery girl says, sounding exasperated. ‘He will be fine, he just needs to regain his strength.’

‘Sensei, a whole section of a mountain fell on him, how can he just be fine?’ Jirou questions, sounding severely distressed.

‘Plus, this happened while he was saving me,’ Kaminari chips in. ‘I’m not leaving him.’

‘I have a secret healing quirk of my own,’ Ashido bullshits. ‘He’ll feel so much better when he hears my voice. I have to stay, it’ll be a crime for me to go.’

‘I can tape his wounds?’ Sero offers sheepishly.

He can hear Recovery Girl’s sigh from the other end of the room. ‘And you?’

‘He’s my person.’ Kirishima says it like it’s enough of an explanation.

Recovery Girl clicks her tongue. ‘Overdramatic, the lot of you. Play rock paper scissors or something, but I’m only allowing one of you to stay. The rest of you are going back to the dorms.’

The room bursts into noise again and Bakugou’s head feels like it’s splitting open.

‘HOLY FUCK, SHUT UP!’ The blonde roars from his bed. ‘I LOVE YOU GUYS, BUT IF YOU DON’T STOP YELLING, I WILL BODILY THROW YOU ALL OUT THE DAMN WINDOW.’

His own yelling does more harm than good to his throbbing head, but the noises stop completely so at least it did its job.

He’s alone for a blissful second before a crowd of five idiots surroundS his bed. Kirishima’s face peers into his, smile wide and eyes crinkled around the edges.

‘Hi, how you feeling?’

‘Like someone ran me through a garbage disposal and then put me in a microwave.’

‘Such details, much prose,’ Sero quips, earning him a chop from Ashido.

‘Blasty my love, can we do anything?’

‘Yeah, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.’

Jirou squeezes his calf from the foot of the bed. ‘You gave us a real scare there.’

‘I’m fine,’ Bakugou grumbles.

‘He will be,’ Recovery Girl reiterates, pushing them away and standing next to him. ‘I’ll do another bout of healing once you’ve recovered some of your strength. You can go back to the dorms before bed.’ She turns to his classmates. ‘Only one of you.’

They look at one another and everyone but Kirishima starts shuffling away reluctantly.

Kaminari lingers behind before quickly giving Bakugou a gentle hug. ‘Thanks,’ he whispers into his ear before pulling off and following after the others. Bakugou rolls his eyes and curls onto his side, yelping when he puts some weight on his tender side.

‘Easy,’ Kirishima mumbles, easing him onto his back. When Bakugou is finally comfortable, Kirishima drags one of the chairs lined up against the wall next to the bed and plops down, exhaling. Bakugou opens a tired eye to look at him and sees Kirishima with a stupidly smug smile on his face.

‘What?’

‘You love us, huh?’

Bakugou had hoped they hadn’t caught that, even though he’d screamed it loud enough for the entire building to have heard. Apparently, a cliff falling on you doesn’t stop you from blushing.

‘Fuck off, you were hearing things,’ he says anyway, because what is Bakugou if not in full denial about so many things?

Kirishima’s laugh is loving not mocking, and he puts his hand on Bakugou’s elbow.

‘Good to have you back Kats.’ He gives it a gentle squeeze. ‘Get some rest huh? I’ll be here when you wake up.’

Bakugou gives him a weak glare, but he can’t muster enough rage and anger because the absolute worst part is, he meant it. Because apparently being a rage-filled hero in training doesn’t make one impervious to feels.

Bakugou feels so betrayed by his own thoughts and emotions.

But right as he loses consciousness, he finds himself wondering if he minds all that much and he decides he doesn’t, almost not at all. The answer doesn’t really surprise him either.

He falls asleep to a cool breeze brushing over his skin and the sound of Kirishima humming under his breath.

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my-unmanageable-mischief · 3 years

Text

Since Forever

For girl-who-likes-cold-bois who requested Hello love! Could I get a fic where Draco is like very jealous and overprotective of the reader because they are childhood bestfriends? friends to lovers? I love me some pining lol. Maybe the reader starts dating some other guy and Draco is clearly bothered my it? Maybe the reader doesn’t realize it’s because Draco actually likes her? thanks <3

Draco Malfoy x Reader

“Why is he looking at you?” Draco sneered, glaring over your shoulder. You shoved a mouthful of food into your mouth and looked up at him, raising both your eyebrows.

“Hmm?” Draco merely continued glaring over your shoulder, you swallowed, and glanced in the direction he was shooting daggers. A Ravenclaw boy in your year was looking your way, when he met your eye he smiled softly and offered up a small wave. You waved back before turning back to Draco who was seething across from you at the table.

“Why did you just wave at him?” He questioned and you laughed, resting your head on hand as you looked at you best friend since diapers.

“Because he’s cute? And he waved first?” Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well he’s a git.”

“So are you,” You laughed and he glared at you momenaily before his gaze softened.

“Come on, Y/N, you can do better than that.”

“Alright, you’re a wanker,” You offered and he rolled his eyes.

“No not with insults. I mean with... boys. He’s hardly worth your time.” You rolled your eyes at him, shaking your head.

“And pray tell Draco, who is worth my time?” He wanted to tell you no one was, that you were worth more then anyone else in this pathetic castle but instead he just offered up a small shrug, averting his gaze back to the boy who had waved at you, continuing to glare. You reached across the table and poked his cheek causing him to go slightly rosy.

“Keep that up and your face will be stuck like that, love.” He swatted at your hand, frowning. He liked when you called him sweet names. Not that he would ever admit it to you, or anyone for that matter.

“I’m full,” He decided, placing his fork down, “Do you want to go back to the common room? We can do that transfiguration essay?” He offered and you nodded your head, taking one more bite of food.

“Sure,”

You sat in your study hall period with Draco, heads together as you worked on an assignment. You weren’t fully focusing, occasionally glancing around the room of students. Your eyes would occasionally land on the Ravenclaw boy, Sam, sometimes you’d make eye contact and smile at each other. Draco finally figured out what you kept smiling at and moved, trying to place himself between your gaze and the other boy.

“What?” He asked, when you stared at him disapprovingly. You sighed, shaking your head.

“Nothing.” Draco frowned, he hated seeing you upset, especially when he was the one who made you so.

“He’s not even that cute, Y/N,” He mumbled dejectedly. You smirked slightly and shook your head.

“Draco, come on, he’s soo cute,” You argued lightly. And he made a disgruntled noise, shifting in his seat.

“You can do better than him, Y/N,” Draco reminded you again and you sat back in your seat, gazing at him.

“Like who?” You prodded and he wouldn’t look at you, “Like who Draco?” He looked like he was going to answer you when you were interrupted.

“Hello, Y/N,” It was Sam, you looked up at him, smiling, Draco glared darkly at him.

“Hello Sam.”

“Alright?”

“She’s fine,” Draco answered for you, and you both glanced at him, Sam slightly worried, you slightly annoyed.

“I’m good, and capable of answering myself, thanks, how are you?” You asked, eyeing Draco, daring him to keep this up.

“I’m good!” He assured, smiling shyly, “I was just wondering if you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” He asked, and you smiled while Draco began to seethe beside you.

“She has plans,” He muttered and you shot him another look.

“No I don’t, I’d love to Sam.” He nodded, glancing at Draco nervously again.

“Brilliant, I will see you Saturday then,”

“See ya,” He walked away, back to sit with his friends and you turned on your friend in front of you.

“What’s your issue?” You snapped.

“We always go to Hogsmeade together,” He whined and you shook your head.

“That’s not ‘plans’, Draco, those are lack of plans.”

“He’s a git, Y/N, probably only wants to get in your knickers, I’m looking out for you.” You felt your face heat up with anger. You slammed your book shut and shoved it into your bag. His eyes widened. “Y/N-”

“Shut up,” You huffed, “Can you think before you speak?” You questioned and he shook his head.

“You know I don’t,” He tried to make you smile, or laugh, or anything besides being mad at him but it wasn’t working.

“Just because you don’t think I’m worth more than a shag, doesn’t mean every boy things that way.” His eyes widened.

“That is not what I meant!” You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder before storming from the room, in the direction of your common room. You spent the next two days annoyed with your best friend, but that didn’t last. It never did, and you were back to normal by Friday.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Draco asked, sitting on the sofa in the common room as you rested your feet in his lap. You looked up from your book with a frown.

“You know I’m going with Sam.”

“You’re still into that bloke?”

“He hasn’t given me a reason to not like him, Draco.” He merely shrugged, glancing at you.

“You know I’m just trying to look out for my girl.” You smiled gently and sat up, wrapping him in a hug.

“I know, but I’m a big girl, Draco. You gotta let me make my own decisions.” Draco hugged you back briefly before pulling away, patting your head as he did.

“You’ll always be my best friend, and I’ll always be older. It’s my job to look after you.” You chuckled, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“You’re sweet.”

Hogsmeade was fun for the first half, you didn’t even notice your shadow following you around. Draco kept far back, watching the two of you, making sure Sam didn’t try any funny business. All was going well until about 2 pm. A group of Sam’s friends found you in the Three Broomsticks and joined you briefly before telling the boy they were going back to the castle.

“Come with us, Sam.” Sam grinned and then his face fell slightly as he remembered you were there. He glanced at you and you shrugged, hiding a frown and look of hurt as you took a sip of your butterbeer.

“You don’t mind do you? I mean, I didn’t really feel much of a spark anyways.” Not much of a spark? You shrugged again.

“Do whatever you’d like.” He smiled and nodded and just like that Sam and his friends were gone and you were sitting alone in the Three Broomsticks. You sipped your butterbeer again and kept your eyes on your lap for several long moments. Someone sat down across from you and you looked up expecting to see Sam, but were met by Draco.

“Hullo, darling,” He greeted, “Sam in the loo,” He asked but his voice was oddly gentle. You let out a long breath of air, shaking your head. You didn’t want to tell Draco he had ditched you for his mates, you didn’t want to see his smug look or hear his I told you so. “What’s wrong?” He asked, voice lowering. Draco had seen that idiot and his friends leaving without you in sight. He watched them leave and then had gone in to find you. But you didn’t need to know that.

“He left with his mates.” You finally admitted sofly, “Said he didn’t feel a spark, whatever that means.” Draco didn’t smirk, he didn’t look smug, or tell you he told you. He simply looked at you with concern and mild annoyance.

“That arse hat. Want me to go hex him?” He asked, trying to get you to look at him, “Hey, Y/N.” You made eye contact, “He’s literally nothing compared to you, mud on the bottom of your shoe.” You smiled slightly and nodded before shrugging.

“I’m not really that beat up over it, my ego is just a bit bruised.” You admitted rolling your eyes.

“Well we can’t have that can we?” Draco asked, “Want another butterbeer?” You nodded, and just like that you were back to the only boy who was ever a constant in your life. You spent the rest of the day together, Draco attempting to reflate your ego, as he called it. Really it was just an excuse to openly compliment you more than he ever dared. Eventually, hours later you sat up in his dorm, talking and laughing.

“Still, you’re the smartest girl at Hogwarts, Granger has nothing on you,” That made you laugh, throwing your head back.

“Now that’s a load of shit, Draco, and you know it.” He laughed when you smacked his shoulder playfully.

“No, no, you are! You’re better than just book smart, you’re well rounded smart. You’re smart enough in school, you’re one of the few people I’ve met with common sense, you’re emotionally intelligent and mature... usually,” You narrowed your eyes but smiled anyway, “You’re socially brilliant, and on top of all that, you’re nice to look at.” You tried to whack his shoulder again and Draco caught your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“Oi!” You laughed, poking him in the side with your other hand, causing him to jump.

“Oi yourself!” He pulled you into him, trapping you in a hug, “I’m trying to be nice here,” He laughed and you allowed yourself to hug him back, enjoying one of those rare moments when Draco decided to iniciate physical affection.

“You know I love you right?” He asked quietly and you pulled back to look at him suspiciously.

“What did you do,”

“Nothing! Can’t I just be nice?” You laughed.

“No?” Draco pouted, “Oh don’t give me that face, you know I love you too.” He smiled, glancing down at his lap.

“I more than love you.”

“What is there more than love?” You asked curiously and he shrugged.

“I don’t know, but that’s how I feel about you.” You smiled gently.

“I more than love you too, you’re my best friend Draco, you always have been.” He sighed slightly and glanced at you.

“I... I like you too.”

“I would hope that that was implied with the love,” You joked. Draco couldn’t look at you and you got worried.

“I like like you, Y/N.” He finally admitted, looking up, “romantically,” He added. You blanked. Draco’s face grew worried. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Draco,” You calmed him with your voice, just hearing his name on your lips. “Do you really?”

“Yes. I think I might have always.” You smiled softly at him and he wished that moment would never end, but the next moment was even better. You leaned over to him, closing the gap and placing a gentle kiss on his lips before pulling back.

“You’re ridiculous you know that right?” Draco laughed, pulling you into again.

“You’ve mentioned it.”

#Harry Potter #draco Malfoy x reader #draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you

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oneaddishun · 3 years

Note

Niall being single a dad to maybe a girl? Like maybe a day in the life of the Horans or something

WARNING: Mostly angst or fluff but since this is my first time writing non-smut, non-sexual, non-romantic fics, it might be cringe-y for certain audience.

Also, I didn't quite like the first draft with normal, everyday things. So I twisted it up a bit and made some plot with conflict. If you'd like to read the first draft, tell me and I'll post it too :)

EDIT AFTER WRITING THIS: What the hell is up with me? It does include talks of sex as well!! One! Can't I write just one fic without sexualising it?! Also, read at your own risk warning since I couldn't keep my hands off of sexual stuff. No description. Just talks of sex.

WORD COUNT - 1.3k +

NIALL'S POV

Writing. Writing. Writing.

That's what I've been doing since the last few weeks. I have barely had any time for my own daughter. I know her mother would be so ashamed of me. She left me with the only thing that mattered to her more than anything else and I couldn't take good care of it.

Lately my daughter has been a little moody and I can't blame her for it. I know she's been bottling up her emotions because she is a very understanding young woman but it's only a matter of time before she bursts.

I was on my couch doing my usual thing- writing songs. The pen in my hand would scribble on the paper in my lap from time to time. It would take me about a whole minute or two to move on to then next line. I would occasionally stare out of the window and look at the pouring rain. I could hear the light patter of rain on the soft grass as a heavenly smell filled my nostrils.

From the distance, I heard another sound which wasn't the rain. It was her; my daughter. I looked out of the window instantly and saw her pushing a guy out of our driveway and cursing at him.

"You fucking go away or I swear you'll regret following me here!" she yelled.

The guy muttered something back but it was hard for me to make out what he was saying. Maybe some words of apology?

I have never seen her with a guy that close- let alone curse at him. I was seeing a side of hers I had seen never before. She was like a flame. Even the rain and her drenching clothes weren't bothering her.

When the guy stopped talking- and mind you, he was making so many facial expressions that you'd get a headache just watching him- my daughter's expression turned cold. She stared at him as if she was a statue.

The she tightly closed her fist and smacked the guy on his face. She turned around and walked towards the front door.

As I expected, the doorbell rang moments later. I opened the door and she entered. She was wet from head to toe. The raindrops on her face made it hard to notice but I could see it in her eyes that she was crying. A million thoughts raced into my mind. The one that popped up the most was about how much she resembled her mother. Her eyes looked the same when she cried- beautiful, but filled with melancholy.

"Are-" I almost choked the first time. "Are you crying? Is everything alright?" I asked her, hiding the fact that I had seen everything.

"W-what? No- no. I- it must be the r-r-rain," She lied and without another word, she pushed me out of her way and stormed off to her room. It was kind of rude but I had to suck it up for then.

About half an hour later, I decided to check on her. I knocked on her room thrice. No response came. It was unusually quite. I knocked thrice again. Still no response. I barged into the room with worry.

The room was deserted as if no one was there. The bed was properly made and everything was in order. My daughter wasn't to be found anywhere. I looked around and paced everywhere, hoping to find her somewhere.

I heard a whimper from the bathroom and I rushed inside. My mouth hung open when I saw the scene in front of me. I was horrified.

Lying on the floor was my daughter I had taken care of since she was born. A blade beside her and a bleeding cut on her delicate wrist. I was shocked to my very core. What the hell was she doing?!

My mind went blank and for the second time in my life, I was going to cry for a girl. Her mother made this mistake and that's the reason she isn't here with me today. I can't let my daughter do this too. I bent my knees and sat down beside her. I then rested her head on my lap.

Her eyes were half open. She looked at me through them. A single tear left her her eye. Her hair were damp and wetting my pajama but I didn't care.

"NO!" I screamed with everything I had in me.

"Dad..." came her faint reply.

"This can't- You- I- that guy-"

"Dad..." she whispered but I didn't hear.

"You can't go! This-"

"DAD!" she screamed this time to get my attention. I stopped stuttering.

"Dad, it's not that deep. I'm sorry you had to see this," her words were spoken so softly that it took me a second to understand what she said. "I'm okay. Just tired, that's all,"

"Why did you do this?"

"Forget it dad,"

I took her in my arms and carried her to the bed. On the way, she lifted her arm and wiped the tears off of my face. I hadn't noticed it but apparently, I had been shedding tears all this while. I didn't stop her. I let her wipe it off. This reminded me so much of her mother; even she doesn't know how much. As if the past was repeating itself.

I laid her down on the bed and sat beside her- my hand intertwined with hers.

"It was him." she spoke up after a very awkward silence. The bleeding had stopped now since I had bandaged it. "He was my friend,"

"What did he do?"

"Dad, you have to promise me you won't say anything to anyone and keep calm,"

"I- I won't tell anyone," I promised her without talking about my calm. I have anger issues and she knows it. But I would try.

"We were more that friends. He was my-"

"Your boyfriend? Why would I get angry at that?"

"We were friends-" she looked me dead in the eye, "-with benefits,"

I audibly gasped.

"Shhh... Listen first. He tried to- t-" her voice was faltering so I held her hand. As if it gave her my power, she spoke up, her voice stronger now. "He- he didn't stop when I- I said the safe word. He s-s-slapped me and d-degraded me which was a hard rule but he- he-" she broke out into sobs.

I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly.

"I saw what happened outside," I admitted and she nodded.

"I love you dad. I won't ever. Ever. Ever. Lie to you."

"I love you too, angel. What you did outside, well, the guy kinda deserved it. I don't care what happened to him but this here," I held out her wrist covered with mark that I had failed to notice ever since she started this.

She hugged me again. And in the hug, she whispered in my ear, some words of apology. I gently smiled and petted her hair. She was my big girl. My strong girl. I won't ever let her go through what her mother had to go through. I will protect her.

I chuckled. "I didn't know you had already lost your virginity,"

She broke away from the hug and nudged my arm. She smiled with her cheeks coated with endless streams of tears. "You're making this awkward,"

"I know. But like- when?"

"DAD!"

"Aww come on! I'm the man who raised you. I deserve to know,"

"A year ago. To the same guy I punched,"

"Huh-"

"Just kidding dad. I was just a minor then. I remember your rules 'No intimacy with any gender before 18'" she mimicked my voice. "I lost it just a month ago,"

The mood was much lighter than what it was ten minutes ago. Even though we were talking about sex, none of us seemed to be bothered by it. We spent all our evening talking about various things which we kept from each other. I always made sure not to bring up what happened today. She would grow up and live a long, long life. Because I would make sure she doesn't cut again.

I was going to make her live happily ever after.

But oh how badly I failed!

#niall x yn #niall x reader #niall imagine #niall pics #nialler #niallhoran #solo niall #niall james horan #niall horan #angst #niall's daughter #cute niall #niall 1d #one direction #11 years of 1d

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angstysebfan · 4 years

Note

I want to make a request thats absolutely perfect for bucky. Maybe he and the reader have a friendship where everyone knows they like each other but they don't believe it themselves no matter how often they flirt. Bucky workds up the courage to ask her out but some sort of miscommunication or ge overhears something incorrectly leads him to believe that she is going to stand him up(which she doesn't) so before she gets the chance to he stands her up. She's crushed and refuses to hear him out because if they really are friends why would he believe something he overheard. I hope this isn't too much. I miss your writing so much so I really wanted to send this in

Sure thing! Hope you like it @joannie95!!

I Thought...

You have been with the Avengers for about two years. You were rescued from HYDRA after going through years of physical abuse and experiments. When you arrived at the compound you had major trusts issues with everyone, except Bucky. You latched onto him like a lifeline. He was the one who carried you out of that HYDRA facility, and you recognized him immediately as the previous Winter Soldier. Through him you learned to trust the rest of the team and became a member of their family.

Since the day you came to the compound, you and Bucky were practically connected at the hip. He quickly became your best friend, and you became his, besides Steve. Somewhere along the lines both of you developed feelings toward each other, though neither of you would admit it. Everyone saw the looks you both would exchange when you thought no one was looking. They all heard the longing in your voices when you spoke of the other. But the most obvious thing is the flirting back and forth.

One morning you woke up and headed down to the kitchen to grab some coffee, slowly. You walked in and saw Steve, Nat, Wanda, Sam, and Bucky sitting around drinking coffee and eating whatever breakfast they prepared. “Mornin’” you mumble to everyone. You hear a chorus of “mornings” said back as you shuffled to the coffee machine to pour a cup for yourself. Suddenly you feel a kiss on top of your head, and arms wrapped around your waist, “Mornin’ Doll.” Bucky says against your head.

Butterflies go crazy in your stomach as you lean back against Bucky’s chest. “Mornin’ handsome” you say seductively, looking up at him. You can’t help but love his eyes to the point that you would get lost in them if you could. He leans down and kisses your forehead, squeezing your waist and rubbing his thumbs in soft circles. You clear your throat and finally look away and leave the room, your heart pounding in your chest. Bucky watches you leave the room, his own heart pounding.

“Jesus man, can you just man up and ask her out already. I honestly can’t handle how pathetic you look, and the sexual tension is getting to me.” Sam says. Bucky looks at him for a moment, before looking back at the direction you left. “She doesn’t feel that way about me. She just likes to flirt.” Bucky says defeatedly before sitting back down.

“I don’t know Buck. She seems just as interested in you, as you are in her. I think you are both just too scared to admit it to each other.” Steve says. “She is crazy about you, Barnes. She talks about you all the time. Man up and ask her out!” Nat says with a roll of her eyes before leaving the room. Bucky looks at his hands which are resting on the countertop. “I just don’t want to lose her.” he says.

“I’m telling you man, she. likes. you.” Sam says irritated. “You are just too scared to do anything about it. Ask her out!” He yells. Bucky looks at the doorway, sighs, and heads toward your room trying to figure out the words he will say, and silently praying that you really do like him, and that his friends aren’t wrong. He stands in front of your closed door, trying to get the nerve to raise his hand and knock.

When he finally does raise his hand, you suddenly open the door and jump at the sight of him. “Buck? You scared the shit out of me!” you shout punching his shoulder laughing. “Sorry Doll. I had to talk to you about something.” Bucky said sheepishly. You allow him to enter your room and sit next to him on your bed.

“What’s going on, handsome?” you ask, grabbing his hand and rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. Bucky feels the blush coming but somehow finds the courage, “I... uh... would you...” he stutters, losing his confidence as quick as he found it. You grab his face and force him to look at you, “What is it Buck? You know you can tell me,” you say with a soft smile. “Would you... maybe... want to... go out on a date... with... me?” he asks.

You stare at him in shock for a moment. A date? Bucky Barnes is asking you out on a date? You know he is waiting for an answer, and the longer you take, the more fear he has. “Yes.” you say with a small shy smile, cupping Bucky’s cheek. He leans into your touch and smiles. “Tomorrow night, I will pick you up from your room at 7pm.” he says. You nod and kiss the tip of his nose. Bucky stands and heads to your door with a big smile on his face. You said yes. You are going out on a date with him. He was a happy man.

After a work out you went into the kitchen where Sam was eating lunch. “Why is it that I always find you in the kitchen stuffing your face?” you ask him with a laugh. “Well you come during normal meal hours, what am I supposed to do?” he asks in return. You grab a water and your left overs from last nights dinner and sit next to him. “So... I heard from a tin man that you agreed to go out on a date with him.” Sam says with a smirk. “Yea... I... I was tired of hiding my feelings. I’ve been madly in love with that man for so long. I was scared to lose him because he is also my best friend, but when he asked, I thought it was time to come clean with my feelings.” you say, avoiding eye contact with Sam.

“I’ll give you $100 to stand him up.” Sam says. You look at him in shock and see his teasing expression. “Yea, sure. No problem!” you say rolling your eyes. “No seriously, I’m happy for you both. I think this is going to be good for both of you,” Sam said with a genuine smile. “Thanks Sammy,” you say before kissing his cheek and leaving the room.

The next day you spent all afternoon getting ready. You were so excited for this that you couldn’t think straight. Nat and Wanda came in to help you pick out an outfit, and decide what your hair should look like. Around 5, you jumped in the shower and start prepping for the most amazing night of your life. You kept wondering if you should let him kiss you first, or if you should kiss him first. Maybe see what the moment brings. 5 minutes to 7, you sit on your bed, awaiting Bucky.

At 7:30, you text him to see if something held him up. No answer. At 8:30 you change into sweats, trying to hold back tears. Maybe there was an emergency mission he had to go on, and didn’t have time to tell you. Maybe he was on his way back to compound and traffic caused him to be late, and his cell phone died. Or, maybe he changed his mind and didn’t want to go out with you. That thought made the tears you had been holding in, finally come out.

You decide to head to the kitchen and grab water, before just going to bed. As you walk past the common room you see Bucky watching TV. You walk into the room, “Bucky?” you ask, walking up to him. “Is... where have you been? I have been trying to reach you,” you say. Bucky doesn’t even bother to look at you, “Uh, yea well I decided against the date,” he says with a shrug. You are taken aback by not only his words, but his causal demeanor on the subject.

“Oh, and you didn’t think to inform me? I was waiting for you for almost two hours. I had Nat and Wanda help me pick out an outfit. I...” you choke back a sob. “You embarrassed me by standing me up, and you don’t seem to give a shit.” you say, anger now forming. Bucky finally looks at you, and for the first time in the 2 years you have known him, his beautiful blue eyes are cold.

“Well, maybe Sam will give me the $100 for standing you up.” he says. Your eyebrows shoot up. “Are you fucking serious? You took a joke Sam said and assumed that I was going to stand you up!?” you shout. “You said yes! What was I supposed to think?” Bucky shouts back. At this point everyone else has made their way to the common room, hearing your argument.

“Well you obviously didn’t listen to the rest of the conversation, you fucking asshole! I... I thought you knew me better than that! I... I thought our friendship and feelings meant more to you. Fuck you Bucky! I can never trust you again.” you say before running from the room. Sam steps up shaking his head, “Dude! We were joking! She was never going to stand you up! I told her after that comment that I was happy for the both of you.” Sam said.

“Fuck! What did I do?!” Bucky yells at himself sitting down and putting his head in his hands. “Buck, go apologize. Now!” Steve says smacking Bucky upside the head. Bucky quickly ran to your room and knocked furiously on your door. “Y/N, please open the door! Please!” he shouted. You sit on your bed trying to keep your resolve that you cannot trust the man on the other side of the door.

“Y/N, I am so fucking sorry! I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you, please open the door!” he continued to yell. You sigh and walk to the door, “Bucky, please just go away. I can’t talk about this anymore today. I just... we can talk tomorrow.” you say in a shaky voice. Bucky leans his head against your door. “I... I know I messed up. I know you might now ever forgive me. But, I... I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.” he says before walking away.

You stand there in shock at the words you just heard. He loved you. You still hold your resolve and decide you will deal with everything tomorrow.

You woke up the next morning and see a beautiful bouquet of your favorite flowers on your nightstand. You can’t help the small smile at the sight of them. You sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes. You decide to head out to the kitchen, knowing you would have to face this head on eventually. You open your door and see Bucky sitting against the wall on the opposite side of your door.

“Hey Doll.” he said sadly, looking up at you with bloodshot eyes. Your resolve breaks slightly seeing the man before you. “Buck, what are you doing out here?” you ask. He stands up and looks at you, “I was worried you would try and hide from me.” he says. You nod in understanding. “Look, Buck I understand that you are sorry, and I appreciate your millions of apologies, including the flowers, but how can I ever trust you to come and talk to me about things? You heard something, misinterpreted everything, and instead of asking me, you stood me up on purpose. I thought I meant more to you than that.” you say looking at the ground.

Bucky steps forward, “You do. Sweetheart, you mean more to me than anything. Hell, I would give up everything for you. I got in my head that I wasn’t good enough for you, and when I heard that I assumed you thought I the same. I.. I should have spoken with you, but I just thought I was doing you a favor. I.. I will regret it for the rest of my life because all I have ever wanted was you.” he says.

You lean in and brush your lips against his, lightly. “I love you too Buck. But, I am going to need some time before I am willing to give you a second chance. I.. I hope you understand.” you say. Bucky looks at you sadly, but nods. “I understand.” he says. You kiss him lightly again before walking away.

Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @arundhati1609 @amandamdiehl

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes #Bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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sharktoothedboys · 3 years

Text

One Of The Guys - Chapter 2

So here is the next part of the on going Kirishima story i am working on, hope you guys love it!!

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It had been a few hours since you were punched in the guy by the news that Kiri had bought a date to the event, your event, and didn’t even have the decency to tell you. Not that he had to in any way but still, you would have liked a heads up.

You had your best pretend smile on your face while inside you were screaming “I don’t wanna be here anymore!” You had become surrounded by Politicians, no idea how it had happened either, maybe you should stop drinking? Nah! They had roped you in to a chat about cleaning up the city, even though crime rates were at an all time low thanks to you and Shotos agency. Their dirty hands kept creeping up to rest on your waist or small of your back as the conversation continued, Something Kiri would normally be on like a shot and put a stop to. But tonight he was no where to be seen. how rude of him!

You smiled at the thought, then mentally sobbed a little at the fact he hadn’t so much as looked at you all night, never mind spoken a word to you all evening. You’re only comfort was somewhere at the bottom of a glass, and you had yet to find it. So the drinks kept being poured, you were on your.... who cares?, the bourbon was good, vanilla tones calmed your anger as you necked yet another nest double. Holding up your empty glass, “Please excuse me gentle men, i seem to running on empty.” They all gave a laugh as you excused yourself form the conversation and made your way to the bar to refill your warm smoky liquid.

You made your way to the bar, seeing your father and twin brother having a conversation on the stools at the end you decided to join them, holding up your glass to the bar tender as you did so, he rushed to replenish your drink and quickly returned with a full glass for you before you even sat down in between the two men, noting how small you looked perched between them and making a mental note to hit the gym a little more.

“Haven’t you had enough of those tonight?” Your father said with a knowing smirk on his lips. A smile even, one you had only just recently become accustomed to.

“Not nearly enough, dad” You replied with a finger gun and a wink, probably an indication you had in fact had enough to drink. Regardless you raised your glass to the two men and then to your lips, “To us” you say quietly looking to Shoto who raised his glass in silence in return to your toast.

Your brother of course knew of your not so little secret crush on the red hero, of course he did, you rarely hid anything from each other, and he had quickly realized why you were slamming back double bourbons like they were going out of fashion. He had seen the woman practically attached to Kirishimas hip earlier on in the night and had been keeping an eye on you ever since, knowing you were probably not going to take it well, it may have been 12 years since your crush had began, but it had never faltered and he knew that, he also knew that you were not emotionally equipped to deal with this kind of situation. He watched as you necked another double, your cheeks a flaming red, a hiccup leaving your lungs as you smacked the glass onto the bar, he indicated to the barman, no more, then he called over a surprisingly sober Mina to help him get you upstairs.

“Thank you Mina.” He quietly said as they guided you towards the elevators.

“No worries Sho,” She replied, still using his high school nickname that made him smile at her, “ I am deadpan sober, so I am here to help.”

“Why are you sober? I haven’t seen you with one drink all night.” He asked, “Its a special night, I imagined seeing you dancing on tables with a jelly shot.”

“Normally I would be, but think about it Sho, why wouldn’t a women, actively trying to get pregnant, not be drinking?” She smirked at him and it clicked in his mind.

His eyes widened and a small smile tugged at his lips as she out her finger to her mouth, a silent agreement between old friends that he would keep quiet.

“I’ll get her to bed if you wanna go and finish up your evening, one of you should be present at least.” She told him as she managed to get you to stagger in to the elevator that had just arrived, “Please tell Bakugo where I have gone, you know what he is like.”

Shoto watched as you leaned against the cool glass of the wall, shoes in hand, “Goodnight Sho.” You said, a little slurred as the doors closed, he raised his hand in a goodbye gesture. He was Mad at the red headed boy, but he didn’t understand why, as far as he knew, Kirishima knew nothing of his sisters feelings and was unknowingly hurting her, but he was still mad at him for hurting her. But what could he do? really?

You and Mina made it to your apartment and managed to stagged in to your bedroom, where Mina managed to get you sat on the end of the bed, where you just tried to lay yourself down in your gown.

“Oh no no!” Mina said dragging you back to sitting up. “Come on, at least take off the dress.”

You sat at the end of the bed and whined like a child being told to eat the vegetables, you raised your arms, a silent plea for Mina to remove your dress for you as you didn’t have the capacity to do it yourself. She gave a small giggle as she looked at your puppy dog eyes and carefully unzipped and removed your dress for you and replaced with an absolutely huge crimson riot t-shirt that was folded on your pillows, assuming it was sleep wear but quickly realizing it was one of Kirishima’s fan boy shirts he always let you borrow, that you almost never returned. You tucked your arms in to the shirt and managed to unhook your bra yourself and let it fall to the ground and off your body as you stood to also remove your underwear, the shirt being long enough to cover your dignity.

That’s when Mina saw the glint in your eyes, The threat of tears ready to spill over your eyeline and down your now very pink cheeks. Her heart broke for you, she knew how emotionally stunted you could be, along with the shyness that ran in your bloodline, she mentally slapped Kirishima for never noticing your feelings and making you suffer all these years. Her only wish right now was that you had gained the courage to tell him, but you never could and it pained her to see you this way.

“Y/N...” She began, Placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“It smells like him.” You choked out, your breath racking your lungs and making it difficult for you to speak.

“Lets get you to bed.” She softly spoke, knowing the amount of drink in your body wasn’t helping and you needed sleep. Her heart really went out to you, when would you get your happy ending? She got you into bed and tucked in the sheets around you, oh how she wished you could have just told him all the wat back in 1A, but maybe that’s just not how things were meant to be? Its not like you had never had a boyfriend, but things never seemed to click, mainly because they were either afraid or insecure of the sheer amount of power your quirk held, or that fact that they were not Eijiro Kirishima. Mina sighed as she watched you fall asleep, a peaceful look finally overtaking your heartbroken features. Happy you were in a deep sleep, she left to go to Bakugos apartment and get some rest herself, leaving you a glass of water and a note to call her when you woke up.

The next morning.

You woke up, a little worse for wear to say the least. Your eyes slightly stuck together from un removed make up, your head surprisingly wasn’t to bad, but your mouth was dryer than the Sahara, you needed water. Luckily you found what mina had left you, downed the water and decided to call her once you had freshened up a little.

You headed to the bathroom, you washed your face, brushed your teeth, sorted out your hair and felt much better. You noticed you were in His shirt and a wave of sadness washed over you as you remembered the woman, Kimiko. You shook off the sadness and made your way back to your bedroom to get ready for the day, luckily you were not on patrol today.

As you exited the bathroom a flash of red caught your eye as Kiri was just leaving his room, A Smile automatically began to pull at your lips until you saw he was closely followed out by her, both of them smiling widely, her hands on his bare chest, “I could break her hands with the blink of an eye.” You thought to yourself as you seethed from the bath room door. Trying to not let the anger get to you, thanks for anger issues dad!

“Oh!! Good morning Y/N!” Kiri said happily giving you a beaming smile that you found very had to stay mad at, he waved cutely from the end of the corridor, adorable. Luckily your room was closest to the bathroom so you wouldn’t actually have to walk past them. Thank god.

“Morning.” You replied, a little grumpier than you intended.

“Woah!! You ok? A little hungover?” He laughed as he pulled Kimiko into his side. Not noticing the stank look she was giving you.

You laughed dryly in response, running ahnad through your freshly brushed locks.

“Something like that.”

“What are you wearing?” Kimiko almost demanded as she put her hand on the hip that wasn’t surgically attached to Kirishima.

You looked down at yourself and back at her with a confused look on your face.

“Erm... a t-shirt.” you replied, sarcastically of course.

“Is that my Kiri’s shirt?” She asked, the question loaded with Malice, You weren’t taking it.

“No, I always wear a 5XL,” You retorted. “Of course its his shirt, I always sleep in his shirts.”

“Well, I think that’s really disrespectful, considering he has a girlfriend now.”

Girlfriend? You think you physically feel your heart stop.

Kirishima watched with a bewildered look on his face, as you looked over to him, he looked away and kept his eyes from looking at you.

‘Thanks for defending me’ You thought to yourself. You stared her down a little, deciding what to do next.

“Fine.” You said bitterly, angry that Kirishima had done absolutely nothing to make her not talk to you like dirt. “Here, you can have this one back now!”

Then without missing a beat, and knowing full well you had nothing on underneath, you removed the giant shirt from your body and threw it down on to the floor in front of them.

Stood there in all your glory, you smirked at her and then looked to Kirishima.

“Its not manly to stare, Kirishima.”

You then side stepped in to your room and slammed the door behind you.

That’s when what you had just done hit you, your heart was racing, you had never done anything so bold in your life! Kiri just saw you Naked, and not in th way you had wanted him to all these years. You internally screamed as you heard muffled yelling from his room and a door slam, your body temperature rose and you suddenly felt a little sick.

You needed to call Mina. Now.

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I loved writing this chapter! So i hope you guys love it to!! Let me know by dropping a like pleaseeeeeeeee. Much love!

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

Text

Photographs

a/n: i was in some feels and this came out. childhood friends to lovers is a classic and never goes out of style, folks. also, italics are flashbacks.

“You gonna do the photo wall last?” Matthew asked you as he finished taping up another box.

You weren’t exactly sure at what point in you life you’d accumulated this much stuff that needed to be packed. Your childhood bedroom was like a memory capsule for your entire childhood, starring the Tkachuk family more than your own. You grew up two houses down from them your entire life, until Matty went to the OHL and you went to college soon after. Summers together kept your families close. The Tkachuks were family as far as your parents were concerned and you were a part of theirs too.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “It feels too, I don’t know, final to take it down.”

“Well, you guys are moving away forever,” Matty reminded you, “because you hate me.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, a joking tone strong in your voice. “Glad you finally understand how intolerable you are and that you’ve finally forced us out of St. Louis even though you’re in Calgary over half of year.”

“My powers of annoyance are strong.” Matthew bowed with his palms pressed together at his heart in a fake zen manner, earning an eye-roll from you. “Only took our entire lives, but I finally annoyed you into getting the hell away of me.”

“Oh please. You would’ve never learned to tie your shoes without me,” you chided him, walking towards him to give him a smack on the way and grab yet another candle off your desk.

“Pretty sure this photo,” Matt grabbed a photo from high up on your covered wall to bring it down, “was taken that day? Damn close to it anyway.”

You snatched the photo from him, smiling as you looked it over. You and Matthew were sitting next to each other in the plastic turtle sandbox that was still somewhere in your backyard, filled with rain water instead of sand these days, and roughly four years old. Matthew’s shoes were untied, as they pretty much always were at that age, and his arms were around your neck. You both were sporting wide, face-breaking smiles. Matthew has a ton of sand in his curls, a product of his inability to tie his shoes that had led to him face planting on the sandbox a few moments before this photo was taken.

“Matty!” you shouted as the little boy fell into the sandbox face first. “Your shoe is untied.”

“Mom isn’t here,” Matty replied after picking his curly head up out of the sand. “I can’t tie them.”

“I can! I’ll show you!”

Matthew looked at you with his brows furrowed and a pout on his face.

“I don’t need a girl to help me,” he said firmly as he flipped himself over in the sand so he was laying on his back. “Besides, you have cooties.”

“You have cooties!” you shouted back, “And my mom says girls can do whatever guys can do so ha.”

You stuck your tongue out and Matty did the same in reply. You stuck your tongue out as far as it could go and put your hands on your hips to try and look scarier. Matty put his thumbs behind his ears and spread his palms out wide and waggled his fingers in every direction in response.

“Meanie,” you mumbled, giving him your best pissed off face, as good as a four-year-old could do. “Let me teach you!”

“Okay, fine,” Matty muttered back, “but don’t touch me. You definitely have cooties.”

“You were so cute,” you said as you flipped the photo around to him. “What happened to you? Did you get smacked with the ugly hockey stick.”

“You’re one to talk,” Matty chirped back. “When did the resting bitch face start? Pretty sure that’s the root of all your problems in the looks department.”

“My soul is now accurately reflected in my appearance. It’s a trick to ward off men,” you countered without missing a beat.

“Well, it definitely works,” Matthew laughed, earning a shove from you.

Your eyes wandered back to the photo wall, landing on a photo of you and Matthew and Brady from when you were seven. You snagged it off the wall and showed it to Matty.

“Remember this one?” you asked him

He nodded, a smile forming on his lips as he took the photo from you. You, Matthew, and Brady were arm in arm, elbows linking you together. You were in a pale yellow dress with a flower crown and the boys were in tuxedos and top hats. You had been the flower girl and they had been joint ring bearers for a wedding of someone else in the neighborhood. The photographer had thought the three of you on dance floor, spinning around linked at the elbows, was too precious not the capture. This photo was still framed on your parent’s hutch, or it had been until your mom packed it the other day.

“Brady! Spin faster!”

Your voice was high and bright, filled with laughter as you spun around in your twirly dress on the dance floor.

“I’m trying!” Brady shouted back at you. “I’m not as big as you guys.”

“Faster!” you egged him on, the ribbons on your flower crown almost whipping him in the face with each turn.

“Yeah, Brady, keep up!” Matthew added in from your left side.

“I’m trying!” Brady shouted again, practically tripping over his feet to keep up with you and Matty.

“You just wanted to spin around and around and around,” Matthew laughed as he remembered that night. “You kept yelling at Brady because he wouldn’t spin fast enough.”

“I was a girl on a mission and he was slowing me down,” you shrugged unapologetically.

“Pretty much describes our entire childhood right there,” Matthew replied, his eyes shifting to your photo wall. He smiled, having found something that interested him and he plucked it off the wall. “Do you remember this one?”

You rolled your eyes when he showed you the photo. Of course he’d pick this one. It was from Matthew’s ninth birthday party. You and Matthew both had your cheeks tinged a dark pink since you’d just left the bounce castle the Tkachuks had rented for the party. You were both laughing, toothless smiles on show for all to see. You didn’t have an issue with this photo other than the fact that it was a physical reminder of the worst haircut you’d ever had.

“You need to go low when you go down, then you’ll bounce higher,” Matthew told you, even though you hadn’t asked for his advice.

“I’m doing that,” you huffed out between jumps.

On your next jump, you let yourself fall back and lay down at the bottom of the bounce castle. Matthew paused with you, flopping down next to you so you bounced up in the air again, making you laugh.

“I’m gonna get a Capri Sun,” you told him as you sat up and started to crawl your way to the exit.

“Capri Sun!” Matthew shouted, hot on your heels out of the bounce castle. “Strawberry Kiwi or bust!”

He ran past you as soon as his feet hit the grass, making a beeline for the cooler that contained your favorite beverages. Matthew tipped open the top and stuck his hands deep into the ice in search for what he wanted. He emerged victorious before you even reached him.

“I want strawberry kiwi,” you mumbled.

Matty, who was already about to puncture the pouch with, paused before he extend the pouch out to you instead.

“I’ll get another one,” he told you with a shrug, before plunging his hands back into the cooler.

“The bangs though,” Matthew nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. “How did your mom let you do that?”

“I think I just kept pushing and she got sick of telling me no,” you sighed, shaking your head softly. “How did my cheeks look that chubby? I don’t understand.”

Matthew looked at you as a smile started to form on his lips. He reached out and pinched both of your cheeks before you could protest. You slapped his wrists hard to get him to release your cheeks, but you were both laughing so hard you couldn’t fake anger.

“They’re still kind of pudgy,” he told you through his laughter. “You grew into them though and you still have your own portable nut storage. Oh, that sounds bad now.”

“Wanna take that back?” you asked him with a raise of one eyebrow.

“Yes, I would like to formally rescind that statement,” Matthew said

“Consider it struck from the,” you grabbed another photo off the wall, “record.”

“Oh jeez, thanks for picking that one,” Matthew said, sarcasm dripping from each word when he saw the photo

“You picked my bad hair year. Only natural I pick yours next,” you laughed as you looked over the photo.

You and Matthew were at one of the local hockey rinks. Him and Brady had probably played at ever rink within a hundred-mile radius of St. Louis growing up, so it was hard to tell which one. Matthew had just come off the ice, still in all of his gear except for his helmet which was tossed at his feet. You looked like you had just walked straight out a Hollister ad and you had picked the neon pink bands for your braces, but Matthew still looked worse. His cheeks were bright pink from all the skating he’d done and he was in the middle of an awkward phase for sure, but it was his hair that sealed the deal. It was too long and he didn’t really learn until you taught him a few years after this photo was taken how to take care of his curls, so they were just incredibly puffy and not in a cute way. He looked like his hair had been teased with at least five different combs until it was a large and frizzy as possible, not a single actual curl managing to escape the frizz.

“Just one photo together!” your mom told you, pushing you closer to Matthew.

“Mom,” you whined and trying to resist her push, but you knew better than to cross her.

You shuffled over to stand next to Matthew. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, holding the ends of your sweatshirt sleeves in your fists. Matthew sighed and shifted his stick to his opposite hand to make space for you next to him.

“You smell,” you told him.

“You always smell, but I’m nice enough not to say anything. Maybe you should learn some manners,” he threw back at you.

You almost squinted your eyes closed in anger, but decided to do one better. You smiled brightly, confusing Matthew when you didn’t insult him back. Your mom and his mom both had their cameras out, each taking a different side to make sure they got one good photo between the two of them, except that wasn’t in the cards that day. The exact moment your mother told you both to say cheese, you gave Matthew a surprise shove with all of your might. He was bigger, but you had surprise on your side and down he went, onto his butt for all to see. You laughed and pumped your fists in the air upon seeing your plan executed perfect. Matthew just glared at you from the ground.

The photo in your hands captured both of your faces the moment you realized he was going down. Matthew’s face showed shock and horror, the future chirps of how he got pushed by a girl clearly flashing before his eyes. Your expression could only be described as absolute elation.

“You know what they say,” you giggled. Matthew looked at you with an eyebrow raised, waiting for your response. “The higher the hair, the closer to God.”

“You still smell,” Matthew told you, a glint in his eyes telling you his was just trying to get a rise out of you.

For old time’s sake, you stuck your tongue out at him. He just laughed in response before turning his attention back to the wall. His light blue eyes scanned over several photos before he found one that brought a smile to his face. He plucked it off the wall and presented it to you.

“You know, twelve years old was your worst time. Nine was my worst, but I think fourteen was our joint worst,” you sighed, shaking your head softly as you looked at the photo.

Freshmen year homecoming, before Matthew was sucked into the junior national development team. He was for some reason wearing a red vest, white button up, a bowtie, and black dress pants. Not exactly a fashion forward look. You were in a dress that your mom had definitely encouraged you to buy. It was silver, had silver glittery polkadots over the entire thing, and flared out at the worst possible spot on your body, making you look a good twenty pounds heavier than you were. The pose of the photo made the awkwardness you both had felt then come right off the photo and back into your bodies now. You shuttered as you remembered the circumstances for the photo.

“Matthew, just stand behind her and put your arms around her,” his mom encouraged, but there was an annoyed edge to her voice, like she was teetering just over the edge of exploding. “Just this one photo and then you can be done.”

“We’re not dates, Mom,” Matthew complained, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re not going the dates pose.”

“Matthew Tkachuk,” was all his mother had to say in a firm tone and his arms flew around you.

You knew your smile was uncomfortable as you did it, but it was the best you could muster given that your best friend who you couldn’t remember not knowing currently had his arms around you. You swallowed hard at the feeling of his arms around your stomach and you started to sweat a little. You tried to attribute it to the weather, but it was fall in St. Louis, so that mental excuse didn’t work. You were nervous, but you couldn’t figure out why. Matthew had never jumped away from you faster than he did once his mom said she had the photo she wanted.

“Moms,” Matthew sighed, a pained expression still on his face. “So embarrassing.”

“Right?” you replied, laughter edging at your voice to try and lighten the situation.

Why were you nervous? It was just Matthew.

That’s when your almost decade-long crush on Matthew had started. Or at least, that’s the first moment you could remember feeling anything for him more than friendship. The feelings had only grown stronger with each passing year since then, but you knew better than to ever bring them up. Honestly, your parents moving away to their forever retirement home in Florida was sort of a relief. You wouldn’t seen Matthew every time you came home and now maybe you could finally shake this crush that had ebbed and flowed, but never stopped, for the past eight years.

“The dress was a bad move,” Matthew chuckled, drawing you back to the conversation.

“Hey, I wouldn’t exactly call the outfit you’re wearing something you should bring back for your next event,” you retorted.

“My outfit should come back before that dress and that’s really saying something,” he replied, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he looked at you.

You turned your attention back to the wall, not able to hold eye contact with him for longer than a few moments at a time without blushing you. You grabbed a more recent photo, the first of many on your wall starring a Calgary Flames jersey.

“Draft day,” you informed him as you turned the photo towards him. He smiled softly at the memory as so did you.

The Tkachuks had insisted on you coming. You were family, so you were coming to Matt’s Draft Day. It was decided for you, as was your plane ticket there. It just showed up in your email one day and the the only discussion the Tkachuks had allowed about it was if you were going to the airport with them or if your mom would be dropping you off. When you saw Matthew get drafted to his top choice team, gratitude to Matt’s parents for making sure you didn’t miss this moment instantly flooded you. Matthew’s eyes were bright and he had one of the biggest smiles you’d ever seen when he turned towards you after he hugged Taryn.

“You did it!” you smiled at him as he leaned in for his hug.

He was so much broader now then he used to be. The year in the OHL and another year around the sun had done him good in that department. His hugs enveloped you now, pulling you in tight to his chest as his arms circled around your shoulders.

“Thank you,” Mathew whispered to you, his hot breath against your ear combined with his lips just grazing it making your heart race, “for being my friend this whole time, even though I’m the worst sometimes.”

“Always,” you assured him as you gave him an extra tight squeeze before letting him go to make his way to the stage to put on that jersey for the first of thousands of times.

“Props to you for finding this photo on the internet,” Matthew told you, tapping the photo softly with the tip of his index finger.

“I hated all of the group photos from Draft Day. My face looked weird that day,” you replied with a shrug.

The photo was of that very hug in the stands of the arena where he’d been drafted. You’d ripped it from some article about him falling to sixth in the draft because he was supposed to go fourth. You’d been thrilled when he’d started falling a little in that moment. You knew he wanted to go to Calgary, even though it hadn’t been the most likely destination for him according to the experts.

“Your face did not look weird,” Matthew told you, his brows furrowing down in confusion. “Women.”

You hit his shoulder with the photo, making him laugh, before dropping it onto your desk with the others. You grabbed your water bottle and took a couple of swigs from it before offering it out to Matthew, an old habit that wouldn’t die. On instinct, he took it and drank a few sips.

“I have my own water,” he said mostly to himself as he closed it and put it back on the desk.

“Mom always said you didn’t look like you drank enough water, so I always gave you some of mine when I drank any,” you explained to him, even though you’d definitely been over this before.

“Old habits, huh?” he chuckled a little. “Can’t believe you’re leaving.”

“I mean, I could be back,” you sighed as you shuffled over to sit on the edge of your bed. “I don’t exactly have a job yet. That’s the only reason I’m going, you know that.”

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly applying to a ton of jobs in St. Louis,” Matthew replied, annoyance obvious in his voice. “I’m never going to see you anymore if you’re not here when I’m home.”

“I’ll come visit,” you assured him. “Amigos for life. You know that.”

Matthew waved you off. You both knew that you not living in St. Louis to be here for Matthew’s off season was going to impact your friendship. Would you ever stop being friends? Definitely not, but you wouldn’t be able to walk two doors and see him anymore, like you’d been able to do for your entire life.

His eyes were back on the photo wall when you heard a soft chuckle escape him. He yanked a photo off near the bottom of your photo wall, a more recent addition. Matthew spun on his heels to turn to face you with the photo exposed. Your nose scrunched up in mild disgust when you saw the photo he’d picked. Matthew had taped that photo up himself because he insisted it was one of the best you two had ever taken. You disagreed, but he pulled out a ‘You Owe Me’ to make sure it made the wall.

You and Matthew were absolutely trashed in the photo. It was from his twenty-first birthday party. Your mascara and eyeliner were running a little from sweat due to the club you were in. Matthew’s curls were frizzy from the heat and he had a beer in his hand. One of his arms was throw around your neck, crushing you into his side and his other arm was pointed out towards the camera, throwing a drunken peace sign in spite of the beer in his hand. You were both laughing at the camera. You were both absolute messes, but you were so happy that night, you remembered.

“It’s my fucking birthday!” Matthew screamed before he tilted his beer back against his lips and emptied the full bottle down his throat in a few swigs. “Let’s fucking go!”

You followed his lead, downing your beer a little less gracefully, some foam spilling down your chin, and a little more slowly, but you got the whole thing down, earning a cheer from Matthew and a few surrounding friends. Matthew disappeared for a few seconds to grab another beer from the bar for both of you, depositing it into your hand before the one you chugged had even settled.

“You know, you look really good tonight,” Matthew told you.

Your cheeks immediately flushed. You could feel the heat rising. Thankfully, this place was packed and you’d just chugged a beer, so Matthew couldn’t directly attribute it to him. He never complimented you like that. It was the alcohol talking, you decided.

“Thanks.” You took a sip of your beer to try and disguise the awkwardness you were feeling before continuing, “Uh, you too, birthday boy.”

Matthew smiled a lazy smile at you before throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you in. He dropped his lips to your ear and started to say something, but then the cameraman hired by the club showed up and insisted on talking photos of you two. You wondered what Matthew had been about to say, because once the guy had left, Matthew shook his head a little, then released you, like nothing had happened. Maybe something almost happened? You drank to forget it.

“Yeah, I don’t think either of us remember that too well,” you laughed a little. “I remember the morning after though.”

Matthew gagged a little at that memory. You’d spent the morning sharing the bathroom floor as your stomachs alternated trying to empty every last drop of alcohol you’d ever had the thought of drinking.

“The worst hangover I’ve ever had,” he groaned, rubbing his temples at the memory of the searing headache you’d both had. “Worth it though. Never doing it again, but worth it.”

“If you say so,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Hey, we should take one last photo before you move in front of your house,” Matthew told you. “I know you’re going to visit me and I’ll visit you and everything, but one last one before you leave St. Louis for good, when we finish packing.”

“Perfect for the ‘gram,” you joked.

“You’re trash and you know it,” Matthew informed you without missing a beat as he started to take down the photos at the top of your wall.

Before you knew it, you were sliding the last box into the moving truck. Matthew sighed with relief as your dad rolled the back of the moving truck closed, your entire life inside of it up until that moment. Everyone was happy you were finally done packing.

“One more photo?” Matthew reminded you.

“We’re not leaving until tomorrow,” you reminded him, “but now is probably a better idea.”

Unlike all of the times in the past, it was you and Matthew that forced both of your mothers to take photo after photo until you had a the perfect one. Well, until you each had a perfect one. Matthew wanted a silly one and you wanted a cute, serious one. They must have each taken fifty photos for you on the front lawn of the only house you’d ever lived in.

“Well, I guess that’s the end of this, huh?” Matthew asked you. One of his hands was on the back of his neck as he spoke. “Feels weird that someone else is going to live in this house.”

“Feels weird to me too.”

You didn’t think you’d cry, but the tears were here and they were demanding to fall. You took in a sharp breath and brought your fist up to your mouth to hide your shaking lip as you tried to keep it together. Matthew knew you too well and he had you wrapped up in his arms against his broad chest before your first sob broke through. He rubbed your back soothingly as you cried against him, soaking his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled as you pulled yourself together.

“Take as much time as you need,” he told you without any hesitation.

His large hands continued to rub up and down your back, heat from his palms transferring to you. You couldn’t help but wonder what this would feel like if there wasn’t a t-shirt between his skin and yours skin, but you couldn’t dwell on those thoughts. You were leaving, plain and simple. That was that. You couldn’t keep thinking about things like that, but the thoughts kept coming.

You flipped around on the air mattress that was where your real mattress used to be a few hours later. Your dad wanted to get going at the actual crack of dawn so your real mattress was already in the moving truck in your driveway, a good night’s sleep be damned. You flipped again, unsatisfied with what the first flip had done. You couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew. You’d had the urge to tell him how you felt before, but this urge was just growing stronger and stronger with each passing minute, telling you shouldn’t move, that you shouldn’t leave without telling him. Now would be the cleanest time to come clean. Now, there was a path for you to naturally shift apart if telling him ruined the way things had always been because the status quo was already in flux. Why did you want to risk your longest friendship with one of the most important people in your life?

People do crazy things when they’re in love. You were in love with your best friend and if your brain was pulling out Hercules quotes to rationalize your feelings, you were either dealing with serious repressed emotions about the move and becoming a real adult or the universe was telling you something. Even if it was the first one, you didn’t know if you were ever going to get a good night’s sleep again if you didn’t tell him at this rate. You checked your phone, 12:45am. Matthew was probably still awake. You smiled to yourself as you got to sneak out of the house for the last time, grateful the window you always used was still pretty well greased up and didn’t squeak to give away your movements.

You padded over in the dewy grass to the Tkachuk house, up to Matthew’s window. You were about to send him a text when you heard a grunt and what sounds like a large body hit the ground nearby. Your eyes went wide as a figure rose from the grass and started to come towards you. You pivoted on your foot, ready to make a mad dash for the house, until you saw that ever familiar mop of curly hair.

“Matthew?” you whisper-yelled.

“Hey,” he chucked. “Same idea, huh?”

“Doubt it,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked you and you waved him off.

As you looked at him in the faint light of your phone, you questioned yourself again. Was this really the right move? Was losing him worth this risk? Was this even a risk, or should you have done this a long time ago?I t was the small part of you that had the last thought that made you open your mouth.

“Matthew, I need to tell you something,” you sighed as you raked a hand nervously through your hair.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing,” he laughed. “Rock, paper, scissors for who goes first, like old times? Best of three?”

“I want to go first,” you blurted out.

Matthew threw his hands up, a shocked look on his face. You never usually wanted to go first, always trying to make him do it. He flipped one wrist out, gesturing to give you the floor to speak. Your mouth instantly dried up and your jaw went slack. Matthew gestured again, looking like an impatient conductor as he waited for you to speak.

“You know, you actually have to go if you want to-”

“I’m in love with you,” you spat out in a rush, so fast that you weren’t even sure you understood what came out of your mouth when it floated up to your own ears, so you tried again. “I’m in love with you, Matty. I have been for years. Look, I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way. I get it, but I didn’t want to leave and not tell you.”

“Why now?” was all Matthew could say.

You’d know this boy your entire life, but you could not figure out what emotion was coming across his face. There were elements you were used to from him, furrowed brows, downturned corners of his mouth, but there was something you couldn’t identify, something new.

“I just, I couldn’t leave and not tell you,” you sighed, exasperated mostly with yourself in that moment. “I should’ve told you a while ago, but I was so scared that I was going to ruin out friendship, which I’m totally ruining right now, I can tell, but I’m going to just pretend I’m not so I can finish this thought. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn’t think you felt the same way and I didn’t want to have to deal with that feeling. I mean, I’m pretty sure you don’t feel the same way now, but at least this way I won’t see you from my bedroom window every single day as I deal with this.”

Matthew let out a long breath as his hands came over his nose and mouth, fingertips pressing together. He shook his head from left to right as he processed what you’d said. You didn’t know if he’d even say anything at all as he turned away from you. Then you heard Matthew start to laugh, softly and slowly, then louder as he turned back to face you.

“Are you fucking serious right now?” he managed to get out through the laughter.

“This is somehow going way better and way worse than I imagined,” you mumbled to yourself as Matthew continued to laugh.

“Of course I’m fucking in love with you too.”

Matthew’s laughter calmed when your eyes met his. You were hesitant. Matthew was forever pushing your buttons and pulling your string, but you didn’t think he’d joke about something like this.

“Jesus, that’s what I came out here to tell you. How could I not be in love with you?” he asked you as he started smiling. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met.”

You reached for him in a way you never had before. Your hands found the back of his neck. His hands reached for your waist, pulling you in tight, as his lips met yours for the first time. This, this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Like coming home. No, like you’d been home this whole time and had finally just realized it.

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