#And I decided to start posting these one shots on Ao3 as well

[yallthemwitches]

Catch the Wind Ch. 16: Doing Wrong

I'm posting this ahead of AO3 because I know it will probably be controversial and I would love some feedback. Look at me gifting scandalous things for my birthday. Very NSFW.

Read the rest of the story here.

James Potter always knew when he had done something wrong. Of course, it never stopped him, but he was well acquainted with the thick rush of cold that fell over his body when he realized he had done something that would irreversibly change a certain aspect of his life. When he realized he had, in short, fucked up. 

He first felt it as a child when he decided to play with his dad’s potion ingredients, leaving the house smelling of charred hair and skin for a week. And again, when he and Sirius had followed an unsuspecting Remus one full moon night in second year just to find an adolescent werewolf who didn’t know the difference between friend and food. Most of all, he had definitely felt that way after he had hoisted Snape up by the lake in fifth year, punctuated fully by the look of hatred on Lily’s face.

This time was starting to feel like one of those times.

He trudged after Lily. Her hair swung against her exposed back as she walked and James couldn’t help but let his teenage brain take over a second to remark on how the last time he had looked at her backside, he was leaving kisses down her spine before a final languorous kiss between her legs.

She didn’t turn back to look at him, but he could tell she was tense. It was the way she held her shoulders, straight and higher than normal. He had seen it a million times, both directed at him and not, and even that felt irresistible. He felt the urge to reach for her, kiss her body until the tension shuddered away. At least under the current circumstances, he knew better than to act on impulse.

He attempted to draft some sort of apology in his head that would acquit him of the complete arsehole behavior he had displayed at the party. If he was going to be really honest with himself, and subsequently to her, he knew he couldn’t apologize because there was no part of him that regretted what he had done. He felt bad for embarrassing her, but definitely not sorry. 

Maybe if the two of them had talked about the quidditch pitch incident earlier, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did— but that rang untrue too. He knew going in he would never be able to look at Slughorn or any of the Slytherin team again without those words flashing before his eyes, searing an unimaginable hatred that edged on murderous. Moodblood fucker, Blood Traiter. 

Now feeling a shot of pure hatred seep through his bones, he realized that they were lucky he hadn’t done anything worse than ruin the party with a few words. He had never wanted to use dark magic against someone before, not even when it had been used against him with Snape, but fuck if he did now. Perhaps there was where the true problem lay: he was never going to enter this night with any civility. 

Lily turned the corner of the dungeon corridor and made for the steps that led back up into the first floor of the castle. He figured she was leading them back to the dorms or Head’s office where she could properly scream at him for his brash behavior. For a split second, the horrible flash of losing Lily over this plagued his thoughts, that he had shown her he was capable of being the same James she hated back in fifth year. If that was true, then he would actually be sorry. 

She stopped at the foot of the steps and turned quickly to face him, her chest still as though holding her breath. Her eyes were bright and wide, and even from his distance away from her he knew he had seen that look before but for some reason was having a difficult time placing it. He wondered if he even wanted to place it. Despite it all, she looked absolutely perfect.

He opened his mouth to speak, but then abandoned the action. Even knee deep in shit, he found himself being distracted by her. The deep V in her dress let the curve of her breasts peak out and become accentuated in the firelight of the dungeon torches. Her left leg, exposed from the cut of her dress, calling for him to run his hand over it, just like he had done hours before. 

He tried to clear his head, to focus, to get in the game, to feel bad. He pushed to speak again, but she moved to talk and for once he was thankful to be silenced. 

“You are going to listen to me, because you have talked too much already tonight.” 

She was freakishly still. Her eyes bore into him and once again he struggled to place the emotion behind the gaze. His gut told him the look was similar to that day with Snape at the lake, but even that didn’t fully grasp it. There was something deeper, more primal than he was used to. Despite the growing terror filling his stomach, he knew whatever it was, it was completely unfiltered.

He wanted to close his eyes, brace for impact. He knew what was coming, like all the other times he had ever fucked up. All tragedies must end in a sacrifice, whether that was a death, loss or an act of retribution. The blade was being raised, and it was his neck waiting for the fall.

“I am going to suck you off right here, right now in this hallway until you come.”

It certainly felt like a blow to the head, positive he was suffering from a panic induced hallucination. He watched as she took another step towards him, feeling unstable. Now closer, the look in her eyes was finally taking form. There was anger, sure, but more than that there was hunger. It was the look of an animal about to kill their prey.

She continued, not giving James a moment to cut in. 

“I’m going to make you come inside my mouth and then when you have recovered, you are going to fuck me as hard as you ever have–”

Fuck fuck fuck. He definitely heard that correctly. His mind was going fuzzy and the world spun around him. She had hands on him now, pulling at the buttons of his robes,continuing to speak in a plain, composed voice, as she would talking about the weather or patrol schedules. 

“---and when you have fucked me until I don’t even know my own name or what year it is anymore, you are going to take me upstairs to your bedroom, and do it again–”

He didn’t know when his shirt had come off, but her hands were now yanking at his belt, ripping at it so hard he half wondered if she would take out a belt loop. “Holy shit, holy merlin, christ, god, whoever.”

“And before you ask, I don’t care if your stupid friends are in there. I don’t care if they stay or go or even fucking join in. You are going to take me in there and pound me into your mattress until even a silencing spell won’t stop the rest of this godforsaken castle from hearing me scream for you.”

James felt like his soul had left his body and he was now watching reality unfold completely severed from himself. He wondered if he had died, if the party had actually gone worse than he thought and killing curses had been thrown. It felt like there was no explanation, no fucking magnificent reasoning as to why Lily had now sunk to her knees in the middle of a very public, very open corridor with his pants unzipped. All it would take was one of the non-slytherin students to go back to their dorms for someone to see them—and maybe that was exactly what she wanted. The thought alone made him want to come before they even started.

“Oh fuck, Oh Evans, Oh Baby.” Lily smiled, but at the use of her surname or the use of the new pet name, he wasn’t completely sure. His eyesight was failing him, now only able to make out the red of her hair and the brilliant green of her eyes that stared up at him while she yanked his pants down further to release him out of his clothes. She curved her flat palm against the base of his cock, and he let out a strangled gasp, surging back into reality. 

“I’m going to last five seconds, Evans. Holy shit—I didn’t realize you—I thought—Oh fuck.”

His eyesight came back to him just in time to watch Lily cock an eyebrow. Her lips were pursed with amusement, face just inches away from his weeping head. 

“You thought what, baby?” She threw the pet name back at him and it made his cock twitch. “You thought my knickers haven't been completely soaked through since the night began?”

Lily took the hand that was sliding up his leg and snaked it under the slit of her dress. She pulled the fabric back so he could see the tiny strip of lace that she was using as knickers and with no preamble slipped one finger, then another between her legs. She kept her eyes locked on his face as she pulled her now drenched fingers out and raised them to her lips. 

“See?” She ran her tongue slowly over her own arousal, taking the fingers into her mouth and making a point to hollow out her cheeks as she sucked. James nearly doubled over. His cock was now leaking significantly, and he knew all it would take was a second of her mouth to make him implode. 

“Fuck, Christ fuck Evans—-let me taste.” 

“Later. You are listening to me, remember?” 

Merlin—-shit.

For a second, James considered knocking her back onto the ground and taking her right there. It wouldn’t have been his first act of disobedience that night. Lily must have seen the look in his eye because she wasted no more time torturing him, grabbing his arse with her still wet hand and pushed his cock fully into her mouth. 

The noise James made bounced off the cavernous walls of the corridor. A deep animalistic noise that felt reminiscent of his stag form. She swirled her tongue around his tip, using her hand on his bum to guide him until he grasped what exactly she wanted him to do: thrust into her mouth.

Pushing through the haze, he grasped onto her hair harder than he had ever allowed himself and with her rhythm moved his hips back and forth with the motion of her mouth sliding over him. It felt completely unlawful to feel as good as it did, like some higher being would come down from the heavens to smite him for feeling like this. She kept her eyes locked on his face, watching as his own focused on the movement of his cock entering and exiting her lips. Words spilled out of him completely of their own accord, stringing together a weak commentary of the ecstasy he was feeling inside. 

“You are so beautiful. No one has ever made me feel this way and fuck no one ever will—the amount of times I’ve imagined you on your knees like this—and it was shit in comparison to how you look now—”

Lily moaned around his cock, sending a shock through his body. She took one long lick on his tip before removing her mouth for a moment, making James groan from the loss of her warm throat. Her lips were gleaming and swollen in the firelight.

“Come for me baby. Come in my mouth and let me swallow every last drop of you. Come so loud those fucking pricks at the party can hear how good I make you feel, then you can do whatever you want to me because I’m yours.”

What the fuck was he supposed to say to that? 

She took him in totality into her mouth again and slid her tongue just under his shaft. His body was trembling, he could feel his climax fast approaching as words continued to tumble out of his mouth. Fuck, just like that, oh baby, oh Lily—-there.

“Come for me, Potter.” She didn’t even remove him from her mouth to say it. She lifted a hand to cup his balls and the world bottomed out. He tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes open, watching her eyes watch him as he let out a deep vibrating sigh that echoed through the corridor down into the dungeons. Legs giving out, he keeled over to balance himself on her. 

He spilled into her mouth and he watched as she swallowed without hesitation, using her tongue to lap around him to make sure nothing was missed. When she finally released him, a pleased smile painted on her face, he sank to his knees, taking her tongue immediately in between his teeth.

“Are you fucking joking? How am I supposed to live now, Evans? How am I supposed to do fucking anything now knowing you could be doing that to me.”

He clawed the thigh cut in her dress and she didn’t stop him. He found the sad excuse for knickers as soaked if not more than when she had tasted herself earlier and slipped two fingers into her immediately, making her melt into him. Her whole body folded into his, head finding the crook of his shoulder and biting down. 

“Ah--James.” She choked out just before he curled his fingers in the way he knew would make her gasp. “You’ve ruined me, fucking ruined me with your hand alone—-ever since this summer—-.”

He circled his thumb on her clit, making her gasp further into his collarbone. His other hand pushed into the V of her dress, pulling her breast just enough for the soft pink of her tit to escape the fabric. He suctioned himself on it, wrapping his other arm around her waist to keep her stable as he continued to pulse his fingers inside her. She was so wet, more than he thought was possible for a woman to be. It surged his ego. He did that. He did that to her. 

“James—baby, christ.” He continued his work in practiced rhythm. The sound of his hand slipping in and out of her was downright pornographic, seeming loud enough for the entire dungeon to hear. 

Lily pushed her forehead into the crux of his shoulder, alternating from biting down to babbling affirmations. 

“Please James.” She bit back down and he let out a groan.

“Yes baby, beg for me. Beg me to make you come and then I’ll do it again with my cock. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m yours.”

In response, she bucked her hips. Pushing his fingers farther into her. At this point, his hand was nearly soaked. He could feel her tightening around him now, her body aching for release. 

“Baby, I’m so close.”

Later, when thinking over that moment, he was shocked he didn’t miss it entirely. A noise, a soft thump of a shoe on stone somehow made it over the endless cries and moans Lily spilled out into his ear. James’ eyes shot up to look past her shoulder, careful to keep his pace inside her. 

At first it was hard to concentrate, but as his eyes focused, the silhouette of Snape’s body became more defined in the darkness of the corridor. He stood deadly still, hand outstretched and wand pointing directly at where James still had his own hand working Lily nearly to orgasm. 

When he would think back on it the next day, he couldn’t pinpoint why he made the decision he did. Perhaps it was because he had no idea where his wand was, presumably lost in his dress robes which had been torn aside long ago. Or, perhaps it was because, deep down, he knew that Snape wouldn’t do anything. But mostly, and worse of all, he knew it was because he wanted him to see. 

In total, it couldn’t have been more than seconds. Snape never moved, hand and wand poised but inactive. His eyes were wide, unblinking. James continued to stare over Lily’s shoulder, miraculously never faltering his tempo inside her as her hips continued to push into him. She moved faster, harder, continuing to beg him for release. 

He hated how much he loved that she was falling apart for him and Snape was witnessing it.

He ignored the feeling in his stomach that told him he was doing something wrong and continued to zero in on him, contracting his fingers inside her, knowing exactly what game he was playing at and that he was fucking good at it. 

He made sure his eyes were saying everything he couldn’t. Watch me make her come Snivellus. Watch as I do the thing you have only wanked your slimy prick off to in your dreams. Remember how she screams my name and let it haunt you for the rest of your decrepit life.

He wasn’t proud of it, but in the moment, it was the greatest revenge he could imagine. 

Lily’s hips bucked against his hand and he could feel her body start to quiver. Keeping his eyes on Snape, he turned his head slightly to brush his lips with her ear. 

“Come for me baby. Come on my hand—let me feel it. Then I’ll taste it just like you want. Come Lily, Come.”

Lily reached her arms around him, grabbing at his hair and tugging at the roots. James fought to keep his eyes locked with Snape, but saw no change of expression. Snape might as well have been petrified. 

He lightly circled his thumb on her clit then plunged his fingers into her as far as his knuckle. She fell apart. 

“Fuck. James James James—-” 

The sound of his name awakened something in Snape. His face scrunched into a look of abject horror and he recoiled backwards. A second later, he disappeared back around the corner towards the party from which he came. 

If it was wrong, then why did it feel so good. 

Lily collapsed in his arms and he allowed himself to fall back into a seat on the ground. He kissed the lingering moans that fell from her mouth and pet her hair which now shrouded her face like a halo. 

“Holy Shit.” She pulled away from him and her eyes glowed in the aftermath, lips and cheeks rosy. 

James ducked to kiss her, unable to resist before cradling her back into his chest. He knew that letting Snape see them was not going to go unpunished. At that very second, he could be rounding up some of his death eater mates to come and take the action he was unable to do alone. For a second he wondered if Lily had even noticed that they had gotten an audience, but if she did, she didn’t show it.

Instead, Lily began redoubling her efforts. He could feel her hand reaching back for his cock which had easily rebounded after coming inside her mouth. She curled around it and the world started to blink away again. It was so tempting to stay in that corridor and finish what she had originally proposed…

For once that day, he needed to make the correct choice, but he wasn’t going to like it. 

“The party is going to be done soon—” 

It wasn’t convincing. Even as he said it, Lily stroked him gently, licking at the bite marks she had left on his neck during her orgasm.

“---As much as I’d love, and I mean love, for everyone to know how well I fuck you—”

Lily snorted under her breath. “Arrogant.”

“I think I’d rather get us somewhere more comfortable where I can finally taste you properly without being interrupted–.”

Lily’s hand stalled on his cock. He could practically hear the cogs moving in her head. 

“---then after you come in my mouth, only then will I—how did you put it— pound you into my mattress–”

He could hear Lily’s breath becoming shallow again. Admittedly, he wasn’t doing much better, feeling less and less inclined to make it upstairs as he spoke. 

“---and will continue to do so until you can barely walk to classes tomorrow.`’

Consider her convinced. In all honesty, he didn’t know how they made it from the dungeons all the way back to the tower. It all seemed a big blur of running and laughing and pushing each other against walls to continue snogging before moving on. 

All of the questions of the day took a backseat to the utmost want that completely enveloped them. Even after coming once, Lily was still ravenous for him, making their trip back up to the dorms that much harder. He wondered if she had ever actually been angry at what he had said at the party, or if it had just made her completely randy. He shelved the question for another time. 

To his awe, Lily completely kept to her word about the dorms portion of the evening. Without even consulting him on how to proceed, she swung open the door of the marauders room and pulled him to her for a kiss. Peter was the only one there and almost fell off his bed at the sight of them, eyes like globes as Lily pulled James by his shirt towards his bed.  

“I have some unfinished business with your mate, Pettigrew, so I suggest you get out or close your curtains.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried out of the room, more like a rat than James had seen him act in human form. He knew he was going to have to answer for it later from the rest of his mates, but the thought was cut short by Lily letting her dress fall to her ankles before Peter had even gotten the door closed.

“Marry me Evans. Either marry me or kill me now.”

Lily walked slowly over to his bed, looking over her shoulder once she reached the bedpost. Her knickers didn’t cover a shred of her bum, practically useless. 

“Fuck me first.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He pushed her onto her stomach, not even caring to close the curtains around them. He trusted Peter would make sure the word was out to the rest of the lads.

“How do you want me? Whatever you want, baby, whatever.”

Rather than turning onto her back like they had become so accustomed to, she remained on all fours, looking back at him. For the first time that evening, a wave of timidness crossed her face, flushing her back and cheeks.

“---do you want to try something new?”

Fuck Fuck Fuck He steadied himself on the post of the bed. Even from the back, he could see that she was dripping from earlier. He wasted no time taking off his clothes and joining her on his knees behind her. 

“You are so beautiful, fuck it’s embarrassing what you do to me.” 

This was new territory for him. Really, all of it was if he was being honest. In the beginning of sixth year, he had dated a Ravenclaw a year older, Maelle Fraser, who had taken his virginity. She had been fun and was the kind of person any bloke would want to experience sex with for the first time, but now being with Lily, the memory of Maelle paled in comparison. Other girls he fooled around with became repetitive, mundane, as though sex was just something in his routine. With Lily, it felt like a miracle each time. He was insatiable, he wanted her all day and night in any way she would let him, much less choose how to take her. When they were together he felt in awe of her, he wanted to worship her, keep her in bed for days on end just to kiss every part of her body and then some. He loved her, and there was no amount of time or way to show that enough. 

He couldn’t imagine loving her more than right that moment, with her on her hands and knees begging for him, but he knew tomorrow there would come something else, then something else the day after that that would make him feel just the same—like his love for her was endless and ever shifting. 

He put a hand on the small of her back and pushed softly, inviting her to lower her chest to the mattress while her arse stayed up. Cheek pressed into the quilt, she looked at him, eyes blown out and mouth swollen. 

“Please,” it came out more as a whisper. The dominant, ravenous Lily that had sucked him off in the hallway earlier was floating away, and the Lily he was more accustomed to was taking over. Not submissive by any stretch, but more prone to coax and beg rather than to tear pleasure from him. 

James moved himself back a little bit, grabbing both sides of her ass in his hands and lowered himself to be eye level with her center. It wasn’t hyperbolic, she was dripping. The inside of her thighs sleek with her own arousal.

“You owe me a taste.”

He flicked out his tongue and ran it from the back of her folds to her clit, making sure to dip inside her as he passed. The moan she emitted was a revelation. A sound James knew he would spend the rest of his life chasing as often as possible. Her hands grasped the quilt for support. 

“Fuck, James—that feels incredible. Don’t stop.”

He repeated his movement, this time adding slightly more pressure and she answered again with the same moan. The new angle made it harder to reach her clit, but seemed to bring her a new sensation to the rest of her body. With every new cry, his cock ached, threatening to release before he wanted. 

“Fuck Lily, I’m sorry, I need to be inside you. I’m not gonna last long as it is.”

Lily just moaned in response. He pulled back, letting Lily readjust herself back up on hands and knees, holding herself onto the headboard. When she looked back at him in anticipation, he could see she was already close to the edge. He needed no further invitation.

Since fifth year he used to fantasize about her exactly like this: in his dorm room naked, screaming his name while he thrusted into her from behind, her body trembling for release. The thought used to make him come so fast in his hand for years—the secret solution for when he needed to make quick work of himself. 

 It turned out, the reality of it was so much better. The new angle hit a spot inside her that made her shudder almost immediately and she bowed to the feeling, pressing her forehead firmly into the headboard for stability. He was mesmerized by the new vantage point in which he disappeared inside her, the advantage of holding onto her arse and reaching around to touch her clit, feeling her shake from his weight. Still, he was torn by the desire to savor the new sensations her muscles made on his cock or to give her what she wanted: to fuck her hard and fast.

She made the decision for him. 

“Harder. Please.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He pushed deeper, feeling her body pulse around him. He sped up with force, now pushing into her with the majority of his strength. He would have worried about hurting her if she wasn’t making the most delicious sounds that had ever been put to auditory frequency. He felt his orgasm mounting with each thrust forward, feeling too much pleasure to care. 

“Baby come for me, I need you to come because I can’t hold it much longer.”

But she was already there. She gripped the headboard and threw her head back, hair falling around her shoulders, arching her whole backside. He could feel her whole body tighten around him and the sensation broke him entirely. He released into her fast and hard and she moaned at the feeling of his ejaculation, shaking slightly before collapsing fully onto the mattress. He followed suit, laying himself lightly over half of her body, and their legs curled together, sweaty and spent. 

“I love you.” He whispered it into her back, still breathless. He meant it, just like all the other times. She was everything to him at once, loving, fierce, comforting, but an incredible force all the same. 

“I’m sorry if I upset you at the party—but maybe I’m not if this was the result.” 

Lily chuckled under him. 

“I love you too. We can talk about the party later, but first I think you promised me another round.”

He couldn’t believe his luck. 

*****

Despite being the most tired he quite possibly had ever been in his life, James had to be the happiest bloke alive. His mates had never come back to the dorm that night, and they had been smart not to. James wasn’t quite the best with time, but he knew that it still had been dark when he took her again with him standing on the side of the bed, then a bit lighter when she had ambushed him out of the loo, leaving them on a heap on the ground in the middle of the room. By the time full sunlight came in through the windows, he was lazily pushing into her while spooning on their sides, sleep fighting its way into their movements. 

He almost convinced her to skive off potions for one more cheeky go about before they could finally sleep, but ever the perfect Head Girl, she yanked herself from his arms and slouched herself out the door, looking the definition of well shagged. 

“God please at the very least tell me you didn’t shag on my bed—though if you did, we might need to unpack that.”

James grumbled. He had just started to drift off to sleep, wishing he could still feel Lily’s heart beating against him when Sirius had been the first to brave his way into the dorm. 

“So I take it Pete told you.”

Sirius snorted. “More like Pete cowered in the common room like he saw a boggart. The poor bloke will probably need therapy after what you and Evans put him through. What did you even do?”

“Everything. Not enough. Never enough.”

“Aw c’mon he didn’t even see anything—.”

“ Evidently, He saw plenty.”

A moment of clarity startled him. In all their romping around, he had almost forgotten. The image of Snape with his wand poised, completely still, surged to the forefront of his mind. That icy feeling of regret started to pour its way down his veins. 

 Did she know Snape had been there? And if she didn't, how could he tell her? What does one even say in that scenario? Oh darling, by the way, while you were shagging me senseless your disgustingly bigoted ex-mate who has wanted to fuck you since he knew his prick existed watched you come—and I let him, because I wanted to shove it in his face. 

Maybe he was still the James Lily had loathed in fifth year.

“Sirius, I messed up.”

“Judging by the way Evans looked walking out of the tower this morning, I’d say you did pretty well for yourself actually.”

James felt a smile twitch on his face, conjuring up the image of Lily that morning. Fuck his thick, egotistical, teenage mind. 

He pushed on. “No mate—I, kinda—look you have to promise me you aren’t going to judge me.”

Sirius crossed his arms behind his head, looking more smug than normal. 

“Can’t wait.”

“I might have—merlin it sounds so fucked—Snape might have seen Lily and I shagging last night–-and I didn’t stop him…or I guess us—meaning the shagging.”

There was silence. 

“Lily doesn’t know— at least I don’t think—she was, er, indisposed.”

Another silence. Sirius brow furrowed. He opened his mouth and closed it multiple times before finally choosing his words. 

“What the fuck?”

Sirius was sitting up now. Eyes bright. His face jumped from twitching to laugh to a confused, twisted frown. 

“Like because you were…into it?”

A zap of disgust. 

“What? No mate, because–,” James felt his voice falter. Time to admit his ego. Time to admit the gross part of him he didn’t want even Sirius to see. “---Because I wanted him to see she was mine. It’s awful I know—”

Sirius burst out laughing. The sound made James' head hurt even more than the fatigue. 

“Wow, thank fucking merlin. And here I was feeling jealous that I wasn’t your first choice for a third in your weird kinky shit—.”

James shot up in bed, using all of his energy to glare at his mate. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you—god, no—and I thought the truth was bad.”

He expected Sirius to keep laughing, but something sobered him up quicker than was usually his habit. James eyed his mate and could see that something was worming its way inside of Sirius’ usually impenetrable amusement. 

“Prongs, joking aside, you know that he wants her right?”

No one had ever put it into words for him before. Of course James knew that Snape fancied Lily. Even if she was oblivious to it, he had caught on early enough to make it one of the sole reasons he loathed him so much. How many years had he watched Lily go to him, be closer to him than he could ever dream…and then what? Turn against her, treat her like dirt just because he wanted to feel power for once in his pathetic little life, thinking even after all that she could still love him. 

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean like I think he really wants her.”

James sat up. He couldn’t tell if Sirius was taking the piss out of him or not. If so, it was a serious allegation, even for Snape. 

“You are going to need to elaborate for me.”

Sirius sat up as well, now sitting across from James. 

“I wish I could—I promised her I wouldn’t.”

A flash of jealousy. Maybe not because Lily and Sirius had secrets between them, but because Sirius was loyal enough to her to keep them. Keep them even from him. 

“---Besides, I can’t be certain—honestly I could be just making this shit up—but that bloke is no good around her, mate. Hopefully your little ego boost will make him leave her alone, but something tells me it won’t.”

James didn’t know what to think. His fatigue was making him woozy and he wished he had never even tried to tackle the subject in such a state.Part of him wanted to shake more information out of Sirius, but he knew nothing would come of it. Mostly, he wanted Lily back in his arms, back where he knew she was safe, now worried about whatever waited for her outside his grasp. He had hurt her, she might not know it yet, but he had potentially endangered her for what he had done or not done. That was inexcusable.In the back of his mind, the twist of Snape’s face continued to stare back at him, stare back at them. He started to feel sick.

“Look mate, if you want my advice: Don’t stoop to his level. Just because Snape wants to own her, doesn’t mean you have to.”

Sirius probably didn’t mean for it to come as such a blow as it did, but it hit nonetheless. It was the blade crashing down. His own egotistical, arrogant self coming back to haunt him, haunt the halo of trust he had built around himself and Lily. The person he loved. 

The night ending in tragedy after all.

[kalolasfantasyworld]

The little Silver Eagles 🦅

Another birdies one shot for 4000 hits 🫶

Summary: Nozel takes his sons Heinry and Noureen to the Silver Eagle's base.

Lot's of fluff and Papa Nozel. Also Heinry being an overly energetic klutz and Noureen an adorable mess.

Yes, there is an illustration 🩵

Type: One shot

Word count: 3481 (Because I can't write short stuff anymore, but this is so much fluff ^^)

Author's note:

I mention @vilandel's OC Rossete

Ao3 (because I want to keep the birdies one shots in one place)

Helena was fixing Heinry’s mantle. He needed to tilt his head back, so that she could straighten out the frills of the high neck. A silver Silva pendant was attached right below. It was quite a challange because Heinry was excitedly bouncing up and down. Nozel watched them fondly, before shifting his gaze to Noureen. His other son was sitting on his bed and dangling his legs. The expression on his face was focused and his little nose wrinkled. His red mantle had already been fixed by Helena, so he was just waiting. 

“Now you’re ready,” she announced and stood up, on her way ruffling Heinry’s silver hair. “Are you sure, that you’ll be fine?” Helena turned towards Nozel. “Their nannies could watch over them and I’m sure Rosetta would love to play a little bit with her sobrinos (nephews).”

“Yes, I am sure,” he stated flatly quirking his brow. “Weren’t you supposed to leave ten minutes ago?” 

“I’m certain that Doctor Owen can start the meeting without me,” Helena put her hands on her hips. 

“Without the vice head of the Healer’s tower?” 

“Stop being witty,” she huffed and leaned down towards her two little birdies. “Are you one hundred percent sure, that they won’t interrupt you with your work?”

“They’re future Silver Eagles, they should see how everything is being handled at the base,” Nozel stated. 

“They’re four mi amor,” Helena sighed.

“Four and a half mama,” Heinry corrected her.

“Yes four and a half hijo,” she said and grabbed him by the hand. They both approached Noureen. “Heinry, Noureen will you be good? You can’t distract papa from work, promise? Listen to everything he says.”

“I’m alway good,” Heinry grinned wildly. 

“Sure you are,” Helena did not sound convinced. “Noureen?” 

The brown haired boy nodded. 

“Are you excited as well?” She asked.

Noureen smiled shyly and then once again nodded, this time more energetically. “Okay,” Helena smiled and stood up. “Have fun my Silver Eagles,” she waved at them, grabbed her bag and very quickly left the room, because indeed she was late and Helena preferred to be on time. She would always say this was a matter of respect. 

Her white tailcoat only fluttered behind her before the door closed. 

Nozel crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes. 

One, two, three.

The door opened once again and Helena ran inside. She knelt down in front of Heinry and pulled him in pressing a kiss on his cheek. The silver haired boy giggled excitedly. She then turned to Noureen and tried to peck hims as well, but he pulled away. 

“Bleh!” He screeched. 

“Everyone gets a kiss,” Helena announced. 

“Everyone?” Noureen pouted. “Okay,” he sighed and leaned forward. A small blush spread on his cheek, before Helena pecked him. 

She stood up and approached Nozel. 

“Everyone gets a kiss,” she brightened up and put her hands on his chest, digging her fingers into his feathery mantle. He closed his eyes and felt her grip on harder as she leaned in closer. Her sweet perfume becoming more apparent.

“Blehhh!” Heinry and Noureen both shouted and startled them before Helena managed to kiss him. 

Giving both of his four year olds’ a side eye was probably not one of Nozel’s greatest moments. He straightened up and his expression became flat. Helena just chuckled glancing at them fondly. 

“A short peck then,” she stated and quickly pressed her lips on to his. He did not even get to savour the moment, because she pulled away and was already running towards the door. “Bye muchachos, don’t be a nuisance to papa.” With that she was gone, off to the Healer’s tower.

Nozel turned to both of his boys, now sitting on the bed. Noureen continued on dangling his feet and Heinry tried to lift his even higher. He would let it go this one time, because they were not in official setting, but the princes needed to learn their manners. He could not remember himself at such young age, but probably he was acting proper. 

“Let’s go,” he stated flatly and boys jumped off the bed. Their light blue and red mantles fluttered. Heinry ran ahead reaching the door in few seconds, while Noureen was just behind him. Nozel silently followed. 

As they walked both princes would race each other down the hallways, because Noureen may had been quieter, but he was not the one to loose. They were running around and would stop only at staircases, because they knew they could easily trip. They waited for Nozel to join them and carefully walked down. 

Finally they reached the main hallway and soon the servants opened the grand doors for them. Nozel lifted his palm, causing a mercury made eagle to shape. The creature lowered its head and leaned down. Boys ran up to it and Heinry tried to climb onto its back, but was failing miserably and continued to slide down from the smooth surface. Nozel lifted him placing his son right behind the Eagle’s neck. Heinry knelt down and grabbed onto the silvery feathers. Then Nozel picked up Noureen, who very elegantly sat beside his brother. Nozel got on too. Some mercury formed around the twins’ legs and held them in place. He could not risk them falling off. 

The eagle flapped its wings and they shot up in the air. 

“Wooohoo!” Heinry shouted and raised his little arms in the air. It was a good idea to strap him on. On Noureens face appeared a wide smile, it was a much rarer view, but it was happening each time that he was flying. The twins truly enjoyed being high in the air. 

The flight did not take them too long and soon they were descending on the yard in the Silver Eagle’s base. Somebody was waiting down there to greet them. 

“Tio Solid!” Heinry ran up to him after jumping off the silver eagle and nearly falling on his face, just nearly because a mercury made tentacle caught him in the air. Dad reflexes were a thing as Nozel realised over the last four years. 

“Hola tio,” Noureen greeted Solid once he got off as well.

“What are you urchins doing here?” Solid grinned and leaned down to greet them. “Good morning Nozel-nii sama,” he looked up at his older brother, while ruffing both of the twins’ hair. 

“We’re Magic Knights,” Noureen stated flatly. 

“Magic Knights?” Solid quirked his brow. “Are you not too short to be a Magic Knight?”

“I’m tall!” Heinry screeched. 

“Hijos,” Nozel narrowed his eyes and they came back to stand by his sides. “They’re spending the day with me,” he announced emotionless placing his hands on their shoulders. 

“Fun,” Solid did not hide the irony in his voice. “Anyway,” he stood up and clasped his hands together. “Do you know anything about when Nebra’s coming back?”

“She’s on a mission with that Black Bull of hers,” Nozel answered. “It’s hard to tell, when they’ll be finished.”

“Cool,” Solid said. “I brought you some mission reports to look through Nozel nii-sama. They’re at your desk.”

“Thank you,” Nozel nodded. “You’re dismissed.”

“Bye urchins,” Solid waved and went off to his duties. 

Nozel needed to get to his office first. He knew that Curtis Warren and Nils Ragus came back from their mission and they would come see him, besides there was a lot of paper work to be filled. On their way they passed some new recruits, who were in the middle of a sparring. A young boy shot a fire projectile at his opponent, while the other lifted an earth made wall from the ground to protect himself. The twins watched them in awe. 

“Will we train like that?” Noureen pulled on Nozel’s cape. 

“Once you’re older and develop your magic better yes,” Nozel stated. 

“I’m already good at my magic,” Heinry grinned and a small mercury made droplet appeared in the air, it melted into a shield resembling shape, which nearly had a Silva emblem on its surface. It was indeed an achievement for a four year old to be this talented and Nozel could not be prouder, that not only his son inherited his attribute, but was already learning some skills. 

“I will be better than you,” Noureen said shyly. 

Despite him having massive storage of mana, his magic was not showing itself greatly. He could form some steel shapes, but they were awkward and did not seem a good fit for him. Nozel wondered how in the future he could guide Noureen, so that he would get better. He was not going to make the same mistake as he did with Noelle. He would not push his son away, instead he would offer him his full support and patience. 

Inside his office Nozel instead of walking right away to his desk, he first approached a bookcase. He pulled out two coloring books and a box filled with colored pencils. He was a disciplined man and was prepared for his sons’ visit. 

As much as Noureen was excited about a chance to draw, Heinry did not seem as appealed, but he took the coloring book with a grateful expression on his face. They climbed onto the couch, which was by the wall and set up their things. 

Nozel just needed to quickly finish this meeting and go through the documents, then he would have more time to spare for his sons. He got to work right away, being very efficient with it. Soon a knock on the door was audible and both boys perked up. 

“Enter,” Nozel spoke up coldly. 

Magic Knights Curtis Warren and Nils Ragus went inside. 

“Captain Nozel,” they bowed. 

“Hola señor Magic Knight!” Heinry waved from the couch and Noureen repeated his move.

“Hi,” Nils was surprised at first, but then smiled softly. 

“Captain we did not know that you were bringing your sons,” Curtis said. “We can come back later.”

“It’s alright,” Nozel nodded. “Tell me about your mission.”

The knights went into details explaining the course of their latest days. The results were acceptable and Nozel found no fault in their actions. He listened to them intently focusing his whole attention on his subordinates. 

“Papa,” Heinry pulled on his cape and then placed the side of his head on Nozel’s lap. “I’m bored.”

Nozel looked away from the knights. 

“You don’t like the colorings I got for you?” He asked.

“I finished,” he stated. “I can show you!”

Curtis cleared his throat. 

“We’ll get going captain.”

“Yes, you’re dismissed,” Nozel turned to them. They were mostly finished and he would  find out the rest from their mission raport. 

Magic knights bowed and as they were about to leave the room Heinry ran up to them. 

“You can see too!” He showed them the coloring book and Nozel could notice Nils struggling not to frown. 

“Good job Heinry-sama,” he said plastering on a smile. “You managed to cross through most of the lines.”

Happy Heinry jumped up to Nozel and opened the book in front of him. Heinry did not inherit Helena’s talent for art, this was pretty obvious. The line art depicted the first Wizard King Lumiere and indeed Heinry somehow got out of all the lines. Lumiere had a very green face and purple hair. He seemed more like some magical creature than a human. 

“Hmm,” Nozel did not want to comment. “Noureen what about your drawing?”

He shyly picked up his book and approached the desk. Making sure that Heinry could not see, he opened the coloring book. Noureen on the other hand could color really well. He stayed in the lines and even tried adding some shading to the anti magic bird’s feathers. It still looked like a drawing made by a child, but he had potential. Nozel had to make sure they would find him a good art tutor, possibly even ask Rill Boismortier for some lessons. 

“Good job hijos,” he stated flatly.

“Can we be magic knights now?” Heinry jumped up, because he was earlier pushed away by Noureen.

“You need to be fifteen to be a magic knights,” Nozel said. 

“But I want to be one now,” he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Papa please,” Noureen pouted. “Can we be Silver Eagles?”

And what was Nozel going to do about that? He furrowed his brows and looked at both of his sons’ eyes. They were lilac just like his and shone brightly with pure, childish hope. He did not want to dim that light. 

Nozel sighed and stood up from his chair. He approached one of the chests and pulled out his spare Silver Eagle’s mantle. It had the long feathery wings attached to them. He gave it to Heinry, who nearly fell over, because he did not expect the fabric to be this heavy. Then Nozel pulled his own mantle over his head and passed it to Noureen. 

“Put these on and you will be Silver Eagles,” he said.

“Help papa,” Heinry asked and pushed the mantle back to his hands. 

Nozel knelt down and helped him put it on. In the same moment Noureen struggled with his own and got stuck halfway. Nozel smiled fondly and after he quickly finished with Heinry, he pulled down Noureen’s mantle. 

Boys looked at themselves amazed. Heinry was beaming with joy as he spun around and then placed his hands on his hips. Noureen just stood frozen and slightly embarrassed, but Nozel could tell that he was happy. He gazed at them proudly. Future Silver Eagles, his sons. 

“What now papa?” Noureen asked. 

Nozel glanced at the pile of paper work still stacked on his desk. It was smaller than when he had arrived, but still apparent. However none of the matters were greatly pressing and his sons were clearly not satisfied with just colorings. He wished to be a good dad. Even though Helena kept saying that he was, a part of him did not believe her and this day was supposed to be a way to prove himself, but he had no idea what could he offer them. He sighed resigned looking around the room. Suddenly a memory flashed in front of his eyes. A warm feeling appeared in his chest and Nozel knew what he could show them. He took off his blue cape, because without a mantle it looked ridiculous and straightened up gazing at the twins. 

“If you’re Magic Knights then I’m your captain,” he stated. 

“Captain papa!” Heinry jumped up. 

“Come on Silver Eagles,” he said before turning towards the door. 

They passed quite a few hallways and both boys at some point grabbed onto Nozel’s tunic to not get lost. Then Heinry nearly fell down the stairs, because he tried to jump two at the time, while Noureen got too distracted with few Magic Knights that passed them and tripped. Nozel’s subordinates were throwing them curious glances and smiling softly. It was a greatly unusual to see their always cold and serious captain tenderly leading two four year olds in way too big feathery mantles. 

Finally they reached the ground floor entrance to the tower on the eastern side of the base. The grand doors which were ahead of them opened and an older looking knight, wearing the Silver Eagle’s mantle came out. Rob Vitesse had a stern expression on his face, but it shifted upon seeing Nozel’s twins.

“Captain,” he bowed. “Little lords.”

“How are they?” Nozel asked. 

“In great form as always Captain.”

Nozel nodded and led his sons inside. 

The room was massive. It filled up most of the tower and was at least few stories high. There were grand windows on the sides letting in the sunlight. The ceiling which was meters above them was dome shaped. It even allowed for a massive tree to grow inside. Higher there were arches crossed with metallic mesh. Wind blew right through them and a fresh breeze reached the three Silvas. It blew lifting all of their long bangs.

“Woah,” Noureen was the first one to speak up, because Heinry seemed to stop breathing for a while. Loud screeches were sounding in the whole room. Big birds were flying from one branch to another. Nozel approached a shelf which stood by the stone wall. He pulled out a leather made glove and put it on. It reached high up above his elbow and was very sturdy. 

He glanced at his twins and with a nod instructed them to follow him. They walked over to a wooden fence like construction and halted. Nozel looked up, reaching out his arm to the side and with his gaze followed one of the birds. He whistled and a loud screech responded. An eagle dove down, only to spread its wings wide and flap them right over Nozel’s head. It slowed down and heavily landed, digging its claws into the thick glove. The bird tilted its head and focused its black eye on Nozel. It recognised its master, softly screeching. Even though Nozel was not great with animals and they tended to stray away from him, these royal birds were an exception. 

“That’s one of our eagles. They mostly act as messenger birds, but sometimes we take them on missions,” he explained. 

“A birdie!” Heinry could not contain his excitement and reached out his hands towards it. The eagle did not seem to like being called a birdie by another birdie, so it pulled away. 

“You have to be calm,” Nozel narrowed his eyes and stated flatly. 

He leaned down with his arm still outreached. The bird focused on Noureen, who watched it with eyes wide open. Lilac orbs were mesmerised. He slowly lifted his palm and showed it to the eagle. Little fingers were spread wide. The eagle shook its head. 

“You can pet it. Just slowly,” Nozel instructed him. 

Noureen swallowed and touched the bird. Eagle did not protest, it kept calmly looking at the little boy. 

“What’s his name?” Noureen asked shyly. 

“It doesn’t have a name,” Nozel stated. “We call them by numbers.”

“Can I give him one?” The lilac eyes were hopeful and Nozel smiled tenderly. 

“Sure hijo.”

“Your name will be…” Noureen furrowed his brows and scratched his chin. “Eagle.”

“Eagle?” Nozel quirked his brow. The bird was obviously an eagle. 

“That’s his name,” the boy was determined. 

Nozel nodded. 

“Eagle it is,” he said and let the bird jump from his glove to the wooden rack. 

Noureen approached it and looked up. 

“Can Eagle be my bird?”

“Once you get older, now it would be hard for you to take care of him. If Eagle spreads his wings he’s bigger than you are.”

Noureen nodded excitedly and how Nozel loved seeing emotions on his son’s face. He remembered how when he was little Acier took him to see the eagles herself. He was as amazed as his boys were and also asked for his own eagle. However as he got older he focused on other things and then his mother… passed away so he gave up on raising a bird by himself. Maybe Noureen could do it instead. 

Nozel did not know whether those were reflexes or his heightened sense, but he turned around and in a second his mercury made its way towards Heinry shielding him from an angry bird. 

“Don’t try pulling on their tails!” Nozel’s voice cut like a whip as he approached his son. “They might peck you then. Are you alright hijo?” He leaned down and lifted Heinry’s chin. Few tears were streaming down his cheek, but he seemed unharmed. Nozel breathed out. 

“Yes,” Heinry sobbed and without any warning flung his arms over Nozel’s neck. Surprised Nozel needed a second to embrace him back. 

He glanced to the side and noticed Noureen watching. 

“Do you want to come too?” He asked. 

Noureen nodded shyly and walked over. Heinry slightly moved to the side and let Nozel take his other arm off to place it over Noureen. 

“You’re the best papa,” Noureen whispered. 

“Best of the best,” Heinry added, because he had already stopped crying. 

Nozel noticed his breath hitch and no he did not tear up, but felt like he was close to it. Hearing his boys say something so simple, yet so complex moved him. To them somehow he was indeed the best. This praise meant to him more than all the achievements he had collected as a captain and prince combined. Being a father was a harder task, more compelling and Nozel felt like he was pushing through it blindfolded. He did not have a good role model growing up, so he needed to figure it out as it went. Making mistakes and then fixing them. It was a process which required a lot of work and he was going to put it in. All for his sons, the little birdies. 

[streetlamp-amber]

never ending night

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 1.7k | divider by @saradika | requests are open!

CW: pregnancy, pure fluff NOTES: hello hi i’m ailís and i’ve been meaning to start a blog where i can post some one shots that i’ve been thinking of as a way to motivate myself to finally write down my ideas so this is it. i’ll be double posting my stuff on ao3 (which you can find in my bio) and will eventually make a masterlist as well as a navigation post with a list of fandoms/characters i write for. also, english isn’t my first language.

It was close to three in the morning when Bruce finally joined you in bed after a long night of patrolling and fighting bottom of the barrel criminals all night. He showered in the bathroom on the first floor of the manor to avoid making too much noise and waking you up, but when he finally walked in your shared bedroom, you were already awake, sitting up against the headboard.

“Darling, what are you doing still up?” Bruce asked you as he reached his side of the bed.

The room was dark par for the moonlight filtering through the gap between the curtains, meaning your husband had yet to notice the state you were in.

“Dick had a nightmare,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper due to how tired you were. “It took me two hours to get him to fall back asleep and when I finally came back here, this little one started kickboxing me and keeping me awake for another hour,” you continued rubbing your round belly in hopes of soothing your baby to finally catch some sleep.

“I’m sorry I wasn't here to help,” Bruce apologised, planting a kiss on your temple as he held you close to his body.

“It’s alright, Gotham needs you,” you dismissed, not at all angry.

“Still, you’re six months pregnant. You’re growing our child inside your body, you need all the rest you can get,” he softly argued. “I would've come home earlier but all the amateur criminals came out tonight.”

“Bruce, it’s fine,” you brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned his head into your touch. “You’ve already been cutting your patrols shorter since we found out about the baby. As long as you keep coming back home to us, alive, then I’m not mad.”

Not knowing what to say – his gratefulness for having someone so accepting of his duty as Batman was almost overwhelming, even after all those years – Bruce kissed your palm while staring at you with the same look full of love that he has been sporting since the first time he met you six years ago.

“How’d I get so lucky to fall in love with the most understanding and selfless person I know?” He asked while grabbing your hand on his cheek, wrapping his fingers around yours and squeezing them gently.

“Now that’s a lie,” you rebutted, a loving smile on your lips, lowering your joined hands on the bed. “You’re more selfless than I am. You’re the most selfless man in the world.”

“Let’s not start this never ending argument again,” Bruce chuckled, now his turn to hold your face as he brought you in for a kiss.

You happily sighed against his lips, the feeling of home that overtook you every time you tasted them was a nice welcome in this interminable night. But the kiss was cut short as you felt your baby kick again and you let your head fall back as you groaned.

“She’s still kicking?” Bruce asked you, he couldn't see the movements under your skin due to the darkness of the room and your hand on your belly.

“We don't know it's a she,” you reminded him instead of answering. You had both decided to wait until the birth to know the gender.

“And I’m telling you, I know it's a girl,” your husband repeated for what could be the hundredth time.

You also secretly hoped it was a girl, but Dick really wanted a little brother. Bruce and you were still in the process of warming him up to the idea of a little sister and it was slowly starting to work.

��As long as she doesn't come in my room,” your eight year old son had said last week, with his arms crossed over his chest and a pout on his lips.

“I doubt she’ll be doing that for the first few years, chum,” Bruce reassured him, fighting off a slightly amused grin.

“And the baby will have its own room with its own toys,” you added.

“Will I still be able to play with the baby?” Dick asked after a moment, uncrossing his arms and a hopeful look filling up his blue eyes.

“Of course you will, bubs,” you said, your fingers threading through his black hair that fell over his forehead.

“But only with her toys at first, some of yours are not suited for a baby,” Bruce pointed out, ever the overprotective father.

Bruce had lowered himself down under the blanket so he could be laying head levelled with your belly, his hand now replacing yours over the bump.

“Hey trouble,” he whispered to your child and the baby kicked again, making him smile lovingly at the movement he felt under his hand. “You shouldn't be awake this late at night, you know.”

“You're one to talk,” you commented, tone almost reprimanding.

“She doesn't know that,” Bruce looked up at you as he defended himself before his gaze fell back on your belly. “Mommy is really tired,” he continued talking to your baby, his hand now rubbing soothingly over your round stomach, “and she needs her rest to do all the work so you can come out all healthy and beautiful. Well, you're definitely gonna be the most beautiful baby if you end up looking like your mother, but that's not the point.”

You smiled at the cheesy comment and your fingers found their place in Bruce’s hair, brushing through it and nails occasionally scratching his scalp.

“Your brother Dick can't wait for you to come around,” he carried on. “Said he will teach you all sorts of acrobatic tricks once you know how to walk. And he asked Alfred if he could help paint the nursery when we finally decide on a colour.”

“And I keep telling you we should do soft green,” you argued.

“I’m not changing my mind from primrose pink,” he told you with a sly grin.

“The room won’t be pink, even if it’s a girl. And that’s final,” you firmly said. Your husband will not be winning this one argument, no sir.

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes before focusing back on your belly. “I hope you’re not as stubborn as your mother,” he whispered to the baby, as if he was having a private conversation with them and that you weren’t there. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s one of the many reasons why I fell in love with her, but I won’t be able to say no to you even when I have to, so it would save me a lot of reprimanding from Mommy if you’re not as tenacious as her.”

You smiled to yourself as you continued listening to your husband talk to your unborn child as you threaded your fingers through his hair, enjoying the softness it had after a shower. Bruce usually gelled his hair to appear more professional when he was working in the day, and then it would get all mixed up with his sweat under his cowl when he was working as Batman. When he would come back to you after the day was over, you would refuse to touch his hair until he had showered, the texture of the gel and sweat too gross on your fingers for you to ignore.

As Bruce continued talking to your baby, his voice started lulling the two of you to sleep. The baby hadn’t kicked in over almost ten minutes now, and the peace you had waited for so long to arrive made you aware of how heavy your eyelids were. You slowly lowered yourself down the bed, getting in a comfortable position with Bruce’s help where you could finally lay your head on your pillow and it didn’t take long for sleep to catch up on you.

At the sound of your soft, barely audible snores, Bruce turned his head away from your bump to find you asleep with your free hand raised next to your head on your pillow, the other one still tangled in his hair.

He planted a soft kiss on the exposed skin of your belly, eyes closed as he took a moment to absorb the fact that a baby that was half you and half him would be joining your world in a little more than three months. Bruce wasn't known to cry, the only time you ever saw him cry was as you walked down the aisle at your wedding, but tonight, a lonesome tear rolled down his cheek and fell on your stomach, where your child was growing, because Bruce never believed he would ever get to experience again the amount of love he hadn't felt since he was eight years old.

As he observed you, sleeping soundly with his child coming to life inside you, after you comforted Dick back to sleep, Bruce, for a moment, felt overwhelmed by all the love in his life. When he became Batman, he crossed out the idea of ever having a family (other than Alfred), of settling down with someone he loved and who loved him back.

But somehow, the universe put you on his path, as a miracle or a guardian angel or simply as an anchor to life outside of Batman, he didn't know. You walked into his home, into his life, to remind him that he, Bruce Wayne, was also deserving of love, of family, of happiness. Then Dick came along, rather unexpectedly but still no less welcomed, and Bruce started entertaining the idea of having children with you. He definitely wasn't opposed to it, but it wasn't something he wanted to jump right into, especially with Dick having just entered your lives. You were both young, he in his early thirties and you in your late twenties, you could allow yourselves a couple of years just the three of you (four with Alfred) before expanding the family.

So it was rather shocking when two months after you and Bruce had officially adopted Dick that you found out you were pregnant. It both took you by surprise but after talking through it together, you couldn't be happier. And the two of you haven't stopped being happy about this new little addition ever since.

Bruce rose up from his position next to your belly, your limp hand fell from his head as he did so, and he laid on the bed next to you. He delicately kissed your forehead, then your nose before falling back on his pillow and whispered “I love you” as he curled around your body, his hand resting on your belly as he fell asleep.

[staraxiaa]

sunflowers

pairing: bakugou katuski x f! reader contains: childhood frenemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining status: standalone, one-shot, completed wc: 17840

note: canon-compliant but i bend it; early childhood and then up to season 3. also cross-posted to ao3.

summary: there you stand at the beginning of the world, with you and your sunflowers; your lovely liar's smile.

The first time you meet Bakugou Katsuki, you are six-turning-seven, and you remember it well. Not just because it’s the first day of school, or even that it’s your birthday. Rather, you remember it because of him, and though you think you would rather die than admit it, there is some part of you⏤ a more rational part⏤ that can temper itself down to acknowledge the fact.

You remember it well, because that morning, your mother makes sure to doll you up extra pretty. She dons you in a frilled dress like it is your armor, taking extra care with your hair, its bows, and she does: so much that there is an extra skip to your step as you walk. You don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. But you still make sure to say your thank yous to all the unfamiliar faces that compliment you with gummy smiles and a not-so-quiet, conspiratorial grin. “It’s my birthday!” 

You remember the way your cheeks hurt from forcing the wideness of it, the way you think it has started to sound like a mantra. You remember smiling, nonetheless, at his friend, as he wishes you a happy birthday! in return⏤ you are smiling at his friend, and not him.

You remember it well, because the first time you ever meet him, he looks you up and down, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and dares to call you ugly. 

If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. Already, your new friends are tensing for the inevitable confrontation. “You can’t just say that to her,” Sueko says, her eyes already narrowing in a glare.

“And who the hell are you, extra?” The crimson-eyed boy scowls right back. 

The other girl wilts a bit, but her glare remains set.

You decide, right there and then, that she is your new best friend. 

You smile. If you were anyone else, you might’ve taken the words like a physical blow. But you don’t just feel pretty, you know you are; a work of art atop a work of art. So you only give him your kindest smile, because your mother told you to play nice in the morning, as she brushed out your hair. You make sure to give him a once over, glancing down, and then up. 

“It’s okay!” Your eyes curve, ingratiatingly polite; ingratiatingly sweet. “Some people are just born blind. And stupid.”

“HAH?” His reaction is exactly what you hoped for, and it’s almost too easy. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING⏤” 

The slight quirk of your mouth is amused, but you only turn, pointedly, to your new best friend. “Any chance you’re free this weekend? Let’s hang out.” 

She stutters an answer, eyes darting between you, and the blond you know is seething behind you, if the glare he’s practically boring into the back of your head means anything.

You tilt your head to the side. A little inquiry, a little push. “So?”

Hands slam down on your desk, cutting out her squeaked yes. You jump a little at the sound, your eyes widening⏤ both a little bit at the sound, and how close his face suddenly is. All of a sudden, you’re glad you didn’t call him ugly right back⏤ it would have sounded petty, after all, and almost certainly would have bit you right in the foot, considering how this crimson-eyed boy is so clearly not.

“I’m talking to you.” Well. You think, he’d probably be a great deal prettier if wasn’t glaring down at you, face contorted in what seems like half snarl, half scowl. 

His friend adds, a little bit placatingly. “Bakugou-san’s not stupid. He’s really smart, actually, always been top of the class. He’s really cool!” 

You note the way the class eyes him, the way the blond’s eyeing the door. He grunts. “I also have twenty-twenty vision.” His chin raises, arrogance in the set of his features, a bit calmer at the praise, but also a touch quieter, almost a bit wary. 

The door opens. He glances back, just as a man walks in, old enough that you assume that he is your teacher. 

It takes effort to keep the shit-eating grin from spreading across your features. “Are you sure?” You ask instead, completely straight-faced. ( You should really consider acting, you think. You’re practically a genius! ) You simper, a hand covering your mouth. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

It’s almost too easy, you think, the way he explodes, literally. 

“YOU WANNA FIGHT, EXTRA?” Miniature blasts pepper the table, and you might have thought it intimidating, if it’s not for the way your sensei is stalking over, looking almost as murderous as the boy himself. “I’LL KILL YOU!” 

You coo a little, fearless with the backing of your newfound supporter. “You’re really scary. That’s illegal, you know.” 

He opens his mouth. But then⏤ “Bakugou. Seeing as it’s the first day, you won’t be getting detention.” His mouth closes mutely. You grin a little at the way he’s being pulled away from your desk, fingers still clutching at the edges of it⏤ by the scruff of his collar, and somewhat like a dog, you think.

His eyes flash, a little bit angry, a little bit dangerous. He points one grubby finger in your direction. “She started it!” 

The sensei also pins you with a stern look. “The next time this happens, the both of you’ll be staying after class to clean, as detention. Am I clear?” 

You gape at both of them. It’s half genuine, half not. You think this verdict is a little unfair. The boy grins, smug.

A complaint is on the tip of your tongue, then you see the sensei’s expression:  deadpan, tired, and unsympathetic.  You sober up, frowning a little. 

“Okay. Sorry, sensei. I’ll try.” 

The crimson-eyed boy is still glaring at you, a little victorious, a little smug, but with a gleam in his eyes. This is war, they seem to say, silent and from across the room.

Little does he know, it has been, ever since the moment he decides to look you up and own, clad in your careful curls and prettiest dress⏤ and calls you ugly.

You blow him a kiss.

He jolts. The face he makes is obviously a frown of disgust. 

The sensei straightens. You smile ingratiatingly, turning away.

This is war, his eyes seem to promise, and really, you can’t help but agree. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your revenge is served not even three days later, on a Saturday evening, and you think it is the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

You have your father to thank for it, actually. The boy, whose name you learn is Bakugou Katsuki, is something of a mini celebrity at your school. 

This means that the surface level things are easy to find⏤ he has anger issues, an explosive Quirk, and is smart, consistently at the top of the class. ( You frown a little when they tell you. These are all things you already know, and the only new information⏤ he likes spicy food⏤ isn’t helpful in the slightest. ) But this also means that, knowing his temper, there are very few willing to actively take your side, and much more openly against you. You are the new girl, the outlier, and though he can’t quite make you an outcast⏤ you and your horde of girl-followers ( bought with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ he has enough friends, or rather sycophants, that will ignore you in the hallways, or mutter names at you.

The boy in question doesn’t, though.

He storms up to your desk the second day. You are chatting with your friends, as he slams his hands on the desk and snarls: “Fight me.” 

Catching your pencil just before it falls, you frown up with him. “What ever happened to: hi, hello, how are you?” 

“Hi, hello, how are you.” He sneers. “Scared?” 

“No, and my answer is no.”

His scowl deepens. “So you are scared.” 

“I’m a healer.” You lift your chin in outrage, affronted. “I’m not violent.”

“Nah. You’re just an extra.” 

Internally, you seethe. First ugly, and now an extra. You have never been called such things in your life. You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue. 

The sensei walks in. 

It dies in your throat, Bakugou’s face splits into a shit-eating grin. He turns away, head held high; arrogant and condescending, having won this encounter by a mile. 

Wrath boils in your ears, but you tamp it down, expressionless. Your pencils are carefully aligned, your notebook opened with just a little more force than necessary. Internally, you promise yourself, he’ll get what’s coming to him. You will make sure of it. 

You get your chance soon enough on a Saturday evening, dolled up again in a dress your mother painstakingly picked out for you, your hair pressed into careful curls. Your father had told you: your family had been invited to dinner by a friend he’d met at work, and that they have a son in the same grade as you, in the same school. 

You had shrugged. So long as there’s a chance their son would be willing to join your Anti-Bakugou Society ( consisting only of you at the moment ), you don’t particularly mind.

“Play nice,” Your mother reminds you now, as you stand before the door; your father knocking on it. There is a bouquet of sunflowers clutched in your hands, matching the color of your dress, and you only scrunch your nose up a little at her. 

“I’m always nice.” 

Your mother doesn’t get a chance to respond, because then there’s a⏤ Katsuki, get the door!⏤ along with an answering⏤ “SHUT UP, OLD HAG! I’M GETTING IT!”⏤ and then, you blink.

The name sounds rather familiar. The voice, too. 

The door opens. You stare, wide-eyed, as a head of blond hair enters your vision, familiar and crimson-eyed.

He’s just as stunned as you are, as you watch, with no small amount of delight, as he takes one look at you, and then the sunflowers you hold in your hands, and sneezes. 

Christmas has come early, you think. “Katsuki! This is your house?” You step a little closer, a sickly sweet grin on your face. 

He dodges the sweep of your bouquet. A pity, you think, but you are successful: he only sneezes all the harder.

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you… by any chance allergic to sunflowers?” 

Your mother gasps, tearing the bouquet from your hands. She had been the one to pick them out.

He doesn’t need to respond for you to know the answer: as soon as they’re taken away from his immediate vicinity, his sneezes lessen.  

Your mother had been the one to pick them out, and you had disliked the way they looked. But you decide, there and in the moment, that they are your favorite flower. 

He straightens. His nose is still red, and there is murder in his eyes. “Why the hell are you here?” 

His mother sweeps in, pinching him by the ear. “You will not address our guests that way.” She hisses, before looking up at the three of you, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to teach him manners, I swear⏤”

“No worries at all, Bakugou-san.” Your mother says, correcting herself at the other woman’s oh, just call me Mitsuki! She pinches your ear in turn. “This one is much the same. A righteous demon, she is.” You narrow your eyes a little at her. 

The blonde laughs, and the way she ruffles her son’s hair is terribly fond. “That’s just part of their charm, I suppose.” 

He hisses up at her. She hisses right back. 

You love her, you think.

“Oh, where are my manners!” She straightens, blinking. “Please come in. Masaru’s in the kitchen, just setting up⏤”

Your parents walk in first, complimenting the decor. Mitsuki beams at them, and down at you. “Masaru tells me the two of you go to the same school,” She says. “Have the two of you met before?” 

You say: “Yes!” at the same time he gives a flat, but resounding, “No.” 

He glares daggers into the side of your head. You grin. “We’re in the same class, and he’s my best friend!” You exclaim, the lie rolling easily off your tongue.

“No the fuck I’m not.” 

“Language, Katsuki!” Mitsuki reaches for his ear again, her face the picture of delight. “I’m so happy you’re finally making friends!” 

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” 

She gasps, affronted, looking like she wants to tear him a new one. You smile. Your parents look on, utterly lost. “It’s okay, Mitsuki-san. That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you angel.” And from the look on her face, one might have thought she truly believed it. She whips around to glare at her son. He glares back. “I don’t know how she puts up with you, but you’d better treat her well.” You grin at him from behind, terribly smug, and terribly victorious. 

She turns around, and your smile is pretty again, pleasant and soft.

Mitsuki coos at you. You think the dichotomy between the way she talks to the both of you is like heaven and earth. “Come over to our house more often. I’d love to have you over anytime!” 

“HAH? WHAT⏤” 

“We wouldn’t want to trouble you, Mitsuki-san.” Your mother says, assertively. She is shooting you the look, the one that means she knows what you’re up to. 

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” She dismisses the statement with a wave of her hand. “Katsuki has few enough friends as it is.” 

Your father laughs, ever the mediator. “We’ll have to invite you over next time as well. We live just down the street.” He brightens. “Actually, seeing as they’re classmates, they could maybe walk together in the mornings?” 

Your mother’s grip tightens around his arm. 

There is a wicked grin on your face. “I’d love that!”

The boy in question doesn’t even get the chance to protest, because Mitsuki’s already chirping. “It’s settled, then!” 

You think: it doesn’t even matter if he emerges victorious in all the encounters you have after this, because when the adults turn, you get to stick your tongue out at him.

The look on his face is so quietly violent, so blatantly murderous, as you wave your still sunflower-smeared hands in his face, that you think you will remember the sweetness of this victory for the rest of your life. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Your relationship does not change in the slightest after that.

Mitsuki invites you over to her house once a week, and your parents do the same. The adults do their own thing, and you do yours: trying your best to annoy the daylights out of your newfound nemesis, and he only does the same to you. You’ll make fun of his All Might merchandise, the ones displayed proudly in his room, and he’ll make fun of your Recovery Girl ones, the ones you have so painstakingly collected⏤ she’s not nearly as popular of a Hero. He’ll sneer: “So that’s why you used to kiss everyone you healed?” 

You’ll sneer right back, cringing internally at the reminder of that phase, though you are still Recovery Girl’s number one fan. “My Quirk’s literally activated through touch. You’d be lucky if I poked you with a ten-foot pole, let alone heal you with a kiss.” 

He’ll make a face. “Eugh. You wish, idiot. I’d never want to kiss an extra like you.” 

The two of you have learned to act relatively civil with adults in the house. You smile up at him, sickly sweet. “Yeah. This extra is an idiot, and she definitely didn’t score higher than you on the last history test.” 

By one point, but still. 

He snorts, though you can tell the reminder irks him. “That’s only ‘cause you sucked up to sensei like, three classes in a row.”

You sniff in derision.  “I did not.” Sure, it’s true: you’d definitely been a little more active in class, and answered more questions than usual, but you’d studied for it! You’d studied a lot!

He sneers back. “Did too.” 

You have learned to imitate the murderous glare he likes to level you with, and the first time you mimic it, you grin a little as his eyes widen, stunned.

The two of you are civil for the most part, though, at each other’s houses. His mother would tear him a new one if she heard him acting anything but⏤ ( she has )⏤ and you think you like his parents too much to ruin your relationship over something as trivial as this. 

School is a different story, however, as are your walks in the mornings. “Shut the fuck up,” He’ll snarl at you.

“But Katsuki-kun!” You’ll coo right back, using the tone you know he hates. “I haven’t even started talking yet!” 

He’ll scowl at you. You’ll simper right back. He’ll speed up, and you do not slow, nor do you attempt to match his pace, because you know: if you slow, he will too. Always keeping that same distance, and if you speed up⏤ well, you’d tried that once. And you’d kept pace with him for all of two seconds, before he’d sped up in turn, until the both of you were practically sprinting to school. 

You lose, of course. You have never run a day in your life.

( You start training right after. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack.

( Your mother picked out the flowers, but you are the one that held them, and you were also the one to decide, there and then, that these were your favorite flowers in the world. )

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly stunning in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. 

“You’re ruining my shirt,” He grouses. “Stop crying. I’m literally more injured than you are.” 

You sniff. “I’m not kissing you better.” 

He snarls. “Come anywhere near me with your mouth and I’ll blow your face off.” 

“You want it so bad it makes you look stupid.” You tell him, and he tenses beneath you, but you only press your cheek to his neck, and think, heal.

The pain of the bruises lances through you, and you feel the way he relaxes.

You droop. “Onwards, steed.” 

“I will literally drop you.” 

“I just healed you. I’m tired.” 

“No one fucking asked you to.” 

He doesn’t make good on his promise, though, and eventually, you sigh a little into his neck.

“What.” 

“Nothing.” 

“What, dumbass.” 

You hum, a little absentminded. “You’re going to UA, right?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

“Oh, I was thinking of applying for the healer understudy openings.” You shrug. “Dunno if I can get in, though.” 

“You will.” His certainty surprises you. 

You smile. “Didn’t know you believed in me so much, Katsuki-kun.” Your head flops back onto his shoulder. “Will you still walk with me in the mornings, then?” 

“After school, too. Even if you don’t get in.” 

You shift to blink up at him in surprise. 

He clicks his tongue. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look this uncomfortable.

“Who the fuck else’s gonna punch shitty stalkers for you?”

You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before, like the sun cresting upon the horizon, lighting up like a dawn inside your chest. You laugh at the feel of it. “Are you sure you woke up on the right side of the bed today? Besides, you don’t even know where I’d be going.” You reach up to pinch him on the cheek. 

He jerks away, the look on his face disgusted.

“Then I’ll teach you to fight.” 

You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like. There’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food, and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. 

( That’s just how Katsuki-kun shows his love, you tell Mitsuki-san, once upon a time, and though you are not sure if it is love, you think: you do not mind it. )

This is how your relationship is, and how it remains, until the end of the second last year of middle school, right before the both of you enter UA.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are asleep at your desk when you are jumpscared awake. 

“UA? That national school? Isn’t their acceptance rate really low?” Someone in your class is asking. 

“That’s exactly why you guys are just extras!” You roll your eyes as the ash-blond jumps straight atop his desk. “I aced the mock test! I’m the only one at this school who could possibly get into UA. I’ll definitely surpass All Might and become the top hero!” 

This is not the first time you’ve heard this tirade. Sueko nudges you, quietly. “Hey. Didn’t you say you were applying for one of their healer slots?” 

“Oh, yeah.” The sensei glances down at his list. “Midoriya wanted to go to UA as well, right? And someone else…” You tense.

The class bursts into uproarious laughter, and it seems you are temporarily saved. 

“Huh? Midoriya? No way! You can’t get into the Hero course by just studying!”

The green-haired boy stammers. “Th-they got rid of the rule! There’s just no precedent…” 

You roll your eyes at the sound of familiar explosions. “Huh? Deku! You’re below the rejects! You’re quirkless! How can you even stand in the same ring as me?”

“No, wait! Kacchan! It’s not like I’m trying to compete with you or anything! Believe me!” He falters “It’s just that it’s been my goal ever since I was little! I won’t know unless I try…”   

“What do you mean, unless you try? You’re Quirkless!” 

You slam your textbook down with a little more force than usual, and the whole class turns to you in surprise. “He has a dream that he dares to try for,” you say, coolly and careful. “Isn’t that enough?” 

“And what the hell would you know about that?” 

Disbelief rushes through you, and you turn to look him squarely in the eye. The class tenses, and his own eyes widen. It has been a while since you’ve challenged him like this directly, whether in school or otherwise. 

Sueko pipes up, unhelpfully, from beside you, as if he wouldn’t know. “She’s also applying for UA.” 

You don’t get the chance to glare at her, because your sensei continues the thought. “Oh, yes, that’s right! You were the last student applying to UA! The healer routes are notoriously difficult⏤ how’s that coming along?” 

“Ah, I applied to some hospitals for volunteering, but I don’t know if they accept middle-schoolers,” You laugh. 

Your sensei nods, in support, but also a little condescendingly. “Well, it’s also a very difficult path, so don’t beat yourself up about it too much, yeah?” 

The smile on your face feels a little bit painful, a little bit stretched. 

You are distracted for the rest of that day. So out of it, in fact, that when the sensei calls upon you, his favorite student, you take all of five seconds to respond⏤ blinking, first, then glancing up, with a: “Sorry, what was the question?” You are so out of it that you bump your hip into your own desk as you move past for lunch, wincing at the twinge of it, and you are so out of it that you forget your pencil case when you leave after class, and have to go back to get it.

“Believe that you’ll be born with a Quirk in your next life, and take a last chance dive off the roof!” 

You know that voice. You pause. But then, the blast of familiar explosions. 

Before your hands, the door slams open. 

You don’t know what you were expecting. Bakugou and Midoriya both, obviously, and you suppose you should have known his two lackeys would have been there, too. They turn from their face-off, and your glare is sharp and terrible. “So what if he’s Quirkless?” You snap, storming over to grab the green-haired boy by the wrist. “At least he has a dream. At least he dares to try. That’s more than I can say for the two of you.” 

“Stay out of this,” The blond snarls, a warning. 

You are not entirely a good person. You lie as you please, wielding the power of your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and do things entirely for your own amusement, uncaring of the aftermath. You know Midoriya, or rather, you know of him, and how he is a frequent target of Bakugou’s scathing remarks. At first, you had assumed he’d just been one of the people that disliked you, but it had become increasingly evident that he was just one of the people that didn’t dare to brave the blond’s wrath. And you are not entirely a good person, because you just didn’t care. Not to talk to him, not to stand up for him, not if he hadn’t even tried to for you.

You are not entirely a good person yourself, but even so, you know that there are lines that should not be crossed. 

You lift your chin, and say, quietly. “Apologize.” 

“Hah?” He tilts his head. “And why the hell should I? Why the hell are you defending him?” 

You feel incredulous. “What does that have anything to do with it?” You don’t see the way his eyes flicker down to where you are holding the green-haired boy, by his wrist. “There are things that you should never, ever, say to a person.” His eyes narrow, but there’s an irrational anger within you, a disbelief. “You’re literally trying to become a Hero. How can you, an applicant of UA, who hopes to become one of the best heroes in the world, tell someone to kill themselves, and not think there’s anything wrong with it?” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Little explosions are escaping his hands, in the uncontrolled way they do when he’s furious and unaware of them. 

You think Midoriya makes a pained sound, what with the way your hands are clenching, angry and white. Heal. A sting pulses through you, and you drop his wrist, but your eyes are flashing. “You’re being an ass. Apologize.”

“You don’t tell me what to do.” 

You lift your chin. “If you value our friendship in the slightest, then yes, I do.” The vehemence of your words stuns you a bit, and the blond recoils, as if he has been physically struck. 

You think you have won, for all of a moment, and then he scoffs.

“Yeah, right. What friendship? The one you lied to my mom about and said that we had? That friendship? The one that doesn’t exist? Won’t exist?” 

His sneer is not harsh, but the breath that leaves you is shaky.

You do not hear his next words.

( You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You flop on his bed, making sure to crinkle his carefully-pressed sheets, forcing him to his desk during one of your so-called ‘hangouts’ and ‘study sessions’⏤ Mitsuki’s words, not either of yours, but there are textbooks in front of the both of you, so that is good enough. You study harder than you ever have before, and rub every one of your small victories in his face, and he studies like a demon in return⏤ ( even though he’s never needed to study in his life )⏤ until the both of you are neck and neck, with perfect grades in every subject. You buy everything sunflower-colored, sunflower-shaped, and tack sunflower stickers onto every surface you can see, pinning some cute ones to your backpack. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You see his face more often than anything else, and he calls you an idiot when you tell him about the fictional boys you think are cute. Well, you don’t care. You tell him about them anyways, because you are bored and Kuroo-kun looked particularly nice in the episode the other day⏤ only because you are bored and there is nothing else to do, or so you tell yourself. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ you don’t think you are, at least, because he has never confirmed it, even if he does seem somewhat tolerant of you; punches your pseudo-stalker in the face for you, and carries you piggyback on the way home, crying all the while. You make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You find: you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He lets you flop on his bed, lets you push him to the desk, wrinkles his nose at you when you tell him about a boy that was cute, and calls your friends dumb when you tell him about something they said that was funny. You weasel his birthday out of Mitsuki, and get him that All Might merch you know he’ll like, and there’s some Recovery Girl merch left on your windowsill the day of yours. He laughs when you try a bite of his food for the first time and cough instantly after, your face aflame. What the hell is this? You hiss, and he grins, telling you it’s real food, and that you’re just weak. He never calls you his friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one.  )

This is how Katsuki-kun shows his love, you say to Mitsuki-san once upon a time, but now, you know, because you have learned to read between the lines of his words; to understand him: that this is just how he treats liars who worm their way into his world, and how he tolerates them.

Your lip wobbles. There is a lump in your throat. But you will not cry for him, nor will you plead. Play nice, your mother chastises you once upon a time, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. She chastises you once upon a time, because you do not particularly care to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are petty, yes. Vindictive, too. You may not be that much of a good person, and you are not without your own feelings, hypocritical as that may be. But you are trying, and you are genuine, or at least as much as you can be, as much as you ever have, and he⏤ he has just thrown all of that in your face. 

“Fine, then.” You smile, and you are unfeeling as you lie. “I’ve never thought of you as a friend, either. Don’t talk to me again.” 

The door slams behind you.

You do not hear his next words, so you do not hear him mean: not while you choose him, and not me.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki is six-turning seven the first time he meets you. 

It is the first day of school. You are seated at your desk, a crowd of adoring sycophants around you. “Happy birthday! You look really pretty today,” His friend says from beside him, and he looks you up and down. You are wearing a sky-blue dress, with your hair pressed into careful curls.

His cheeks warm. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, but he only grunts, looking away to the side. “Dunno. She looks pretty ugly to me.” 

“You can’t just say that to her,” Your friend hisses. He doesn’t know her face. 

He scowls at her. “And who the heck are you, extra?” 

She wilts under the force of his glare, and he feels a little better, as if satisfied.

“It’s okay!” You smile. He blinks. Maybe he should call you ugly more often.

And then you call him stupid. And blind.

And the rest is history. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The results of your hospital volunteer application are sent back the next week, and the first thing you think of, somewhat bitterly, is that at least now, you have a proper excuse for skipping out on your weekly dinners. 

You have already skipped out on the first, pretending you feel sick. 

Your phone is still silent. You have not talked to him since that day, not even to check up on him when you see the news, though your fingers itch to. You think of sunflowers: how you didn’t even like them, until him. You think of how your bag now feels empty without its signature pins, how you have thrown every scrap of yellow clothing into a pile in your closet, your sunflower-themed charms and notebooks tucked away. 

Proof of life comes from your mother, and you do not turn on your phone. 

You break your silence two days later, pushing your vegetables somewhat morosely around your plate. “My volunteer application was accepted. They’re letting me intern at the hospital.” 

Your father beams. “That’s great news! You should’ve told us earlier! Honey, we have to eat out to celebrate! Oh, I need to tell Masaru⏤” 

“I won’t be going to weekly dinners for the rest of the summer,” You cut in. Your mother’s chopsticks pause midair. 

Your father blinks at you. “Surely the hospital isn’t making its interns work that much.” 

“Well, I’m applying to UA.” You shrug. That much is true, but it’s also just so you can fill in your hours, work yourself down to the bone. “I’d like as much experience as possible.” 

Your mother is watching you carefully. 

Your father clears his throat. “Well, don’t work yourself too hard.” He says, jokingly, as he dishes another helping of food upon your plate. “You tell us if they’re giving you any trouble, alright?” 

You force yourself to smile back. “‘Course, dad.” 

( Your mother asks you, a week later, when you arrive home from your internship. “Are you still friends with him?” She has asked you a similar question once, years ago and late in the evening, at the end of the dinner party, your father drunken and half-leaning on her shoulder.

You give her the same answer you did then, and in the same way. Cheery, and without a hint of hesitation. “Nope!” 

She is watching you carefully. 

You excuse yourself, and she does not ask you about it again. )

It feels like the days never end, and yet summer passes by before you can blink. You banish all thoughts of blond hair and crimson eyes entirely from your mind, and truthfully, you do not have the mind to think of him much, anyways. You steal the pain of your patients and make it your own, smiling at the brightness of their faces as you heal one, then two, then several more. It tires you terribly so, and between your time at the hospital and pre-studying for the UA exams, you’re so fatigued each night that you fall asleep before your head even hits the pillow. You don’t even have the time to meet up with your friends. And before you know it, the last year of middle school is upon you, as are the start of your applications. 

It is a whirlwind of things to do, so much that you feel you do not have the time to breathe, or even think. Katsuki’s been placed in a different class from yours, which comes as a relief in more ways than one⏤ firstly, that you don’t have to see him, and secondly, because you can let your grades fall just a little, and still come out as top of your class. Between your intern shifts, your mindless studying, the applications, the tests and quizzes and preparing endlessly for interviews, the thoughts of anything else vanish entirely from your mind. You do not feel the emptiness of your afternoons, nor much of your mornings. 

About two months in, Midoriya Izuku is the one to seek you out. 

There is a spoonful of rice halfway to your mouth, a textbook in your other hand. You notice him when a shadow falls over it, blotting the light out. You glance up, drawling. “Yes?” 

“Can I… talk to you for a moment?” He ventures, nervously, a tray gripped in his hands. 

You eye him a little strangely. 

You haven’t seen him since four months ago⏤ you haven’t really been paying much attention, and even the reminder sets your walls of iron slamming up. He’d been shorter then, you think, and significantly more hesitant. The boy from back then would never have even dared think about approaching you like this.

He flusters. “I-I just! Another time is also okay, or if you don’t want to, that’s also okay⏤” 

There he is, you think, a touch amused. “Can it be said here?” 

Beside you, Sueko’s jaw drops. You can feel the stares of your friends boring into the side of your face.

“Y-yes?” 

“Then make it quick.” You flip the page of your textbook. 

He hesitates. “Is it really okay…? For me to sit here?” 

Your eyebrow arches, high. “Since when have you been unable to sit where you like?” 

Mutely, he sets his tray down, and sits. 

You only flip another page. “You can either eat or talk.” You say, conversationally. “Lunch won’t last all day.” 

Obediently, he takes a spoonful of rice, and swallows. “I just… wanted to thank you.” He begins.

You know exactly what he is talking about, and your throat tightens. ( You think of your backpack, how empty it feels, but your refusal to tack on your sunflower pins anyway. ) You shrug. “No need to thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”

“Even so,” Midoriya perks up a bit. “N-no one’s ever stood up for me like that before, and especially not to Kacchan… I-I’m really grateful, either way!” 

You snort a little. Never would you have thought Midoriya Izuku, of all people, would stand here one day, thanking you. 

“I think you’re a really good person,” He says to you, a little bit hesitant. It jolts you a bit, the genuine honesty of his tone, but what you are not prepared for is what comes after. “And I know Kacchan does, too.” 

Your spoon stops halfway to your mouth.

“He still cares about you,” Midoriya says, a touch softer. Your friends are not looking at you, but you can still feel the weight of their gazes, their ears.

You say as you set your spoon down. “If you want to be friends with me, then you will never speak of him again.” 

Midoriya watches you carefully, notes the finality in your tone. His gaze rises to a point above your shoulder.

He flinches.

He does not speak of what he sees, or of this conversation, ever again. 

You do not turn, and you do not ask.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The week of UA acceptances arrive, and you await your own with bated breath. 

Your father laughs as you run out exactly at eight every morning to check, before he finally deigns to tell you that the postman usually delivers to your house around twelve. “I knew that!” You say, and he laughs at the obvious lie.

You stick your tongue out at him, but you still sneak out the next day at the same time, just in case. 

But as it turns out, the postman is late. You know this, because Midoriya texts you late in the evening, after dinnertime, with his signature All Might emoji and a brief: check your mailbox!!!!!

You stop, your heart in your throat. You don’t think you are breathing. 

He’s still typing, spamming your text messages with a thousand All Might emojis, each of them more despairing than the last. You do not know what this means. And then, you see his next message: I got in!!!!! 

It turns out that you are not, in fact, breathing.

You feel like you are holding your breath the whole time you’re fumbling through your mailbox, dropping random letters haphazardly onto your doorstep. That one looks like it’s important, you think, distantly, and it gets dropped somewhere onto the growing pile at your right, scanning them all for a familiar logo, and⏤ you see it at the very bottom of the pile.

You thumb it open with shaking hands. Congratulations, it reads, and you scream.

( You think for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. )

Your father pokes his head around the corner. “I heard screaming. Everything alright?” 

Your mother is smiling. “Mitsuki just called. Katsuki’s in.” 

Your father is looking at you with wide eyes. You are grinning, there are tears in your eyes, and you are wordless in your delight. 

Your mother laughs, soft. “I suppose two congratulations are in order.” 

“Midoriya also made it, so make that three.” You correct, grinning. 

Your father whoops. “THAT’S MY GIRL!” For the first time in almost a year, you feel light as a feather, like the world is spread wide before you, and you are a young god before it, your wings wide and at the ready. 

For the first time in almost a year, you think, for one moment of sunflowers, how you can imagine exactly how he’d react, hear exactly what he’d say. You think of reaching for your phone⏤ ( and if you did, you’d see his icon that you’d purposefully wiped blank bubbling )⏤ but you don’t. You think of a boy with blond hair and crimson eyes that you have not looked at in almost a year, how you’ll brush past him in the halls, surrounded by your gaggle of friends, your uniform and makeup, your armor, and try not to note how he’s grown taller. For the first time in over a year, you think of him, and your heart does not feel like an empty cavity in your chest; you do not feel so hollow, nor do you ache.

Your heart only squeezes, a little tight, but. 

You think you will be fine.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are delusional. You are not, in fact, fine. 

You are standing in front of the classroom door. It spells the code of your class: 1A, in bold lettering, proportions inhumanly large. You are three minutes late, but it’s really not your fault⏤ you’d simply fangirled so hard over the fact that you’re finally getting to meet your idol in person last night that you’d barely gotten any sleep, and your mother had had to haul you practically out of bed and out the door, throughout the whole of your alarm. 

You slide open the door. Instantly, you’re met with a sea of faces, and you steel yourself⏤ but then. 

For the first time in over a year, you see him, and all of a sudden, you are painfully aware of the lack of yellow on your figure; your backpack entirely empty of its signature sunflower pins. 

The smile is frozen on your face, and he looks just as shocked as you feel. 

A voice drawls at your side. “You must be the healer,” You are glad for the distraction; the source a scraggly-haired man halfway through removing himself from a sleeping bag. Your sensei, you deduce. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, sensei!” You bow. “I overslept because I was fangirling too hard over meeting Recovery Girl today! I promise it won’t happen again!” 

A wave of soft laughter ripples through the class, and over the din, you hear a⏤ she’s kinda cute!⏤ at the same time as a⏤ oh, I love her already. 

“If I get hurt, will I get to see you?” A voice calls, and you turn to see a boy⏤ blond, and your heart stutters for a moment, but his shade isn’t ash, it’s golden. He’s grinning cheekily up at you. 

“No flirting in my class.” Your sensei warns. “But yes, seeing as she’s 1A’s healer understudy.” He turns to you. “Recovery Girl’s waiting for you in her office. You know where it is?” 

You nod cheerily. “Sir, yes, sir!” 

“Good.” You turn at the obvious dismissal, shooting a wave at your green-haired friend as you do. 

You leave the classroom with your shoulders set, your chin tilted high, your outfit your armor, and your makeup your helm.

You pretend like you do not feel the crimson glare that seems like it’s trying to pierce through the back of your neck. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Recovery Girl likes you, and you feel as if you are floating for the whole of a day. Not even meeting Bakugou’s gaze the next morning can knock you from it, nor can the grape-haired boy’s leering from across the room. You can’t really dwell on them for long, either, not with the crowd of people aggregating by your desk. You blink up a little, surprised.

It’s not like you’ve made an effort to dress up especially pretty today, and you don’t think you’ve come off as incessantly nice. You are not the you from first grade anymore⏤ you don’t just think yourself pretty, you know you are⏤ but are confident enough in your own skin that you have stopped putting on airs; have allowed yourself to be as cold and sarcastic and dry as you want. Most of your girl-followers⏤ ( the ones you buy with your mother’s fashion, your father’s wallet, and your pure, sunny disposition )⏤ have only seen glimpses of you like this, and you can count on one hand the people outside of your parents who know you as you are. 

Sueko, Midoriya, and of course, him. 

You do not dwell on it for long. You are confident in your own skin, and though you would like some more friends, you do not wish to temper yourself to gain them.

You smile a little at the question the purple-haired boy asks, disliking the way his eyes are lingering at your chest. “You’re all welcome to drop by the clinic anytime you like. It’s what we’re here for, after all. Though, if you want a kiss to make you feel better,” 

You pause a little bit for dramatic effect watching the eyes of several boys brighten just a bit.

“You’ll have to go to Recovery Girl.” 

Your straight face is very well-practiced, but you do not hide the small quirk of your mouth as you watch their souls die. 

An arm slings around your shoulder, its pink-skinned, pink-haired owner grinning at you. “I think we’re going to be best friends, you and I.” 

You remember thinking the same thing about a different girl, when you are six-turning seven, and you hear the same genuinity behind it.

( You are clad in your outfit like armor, your makeup a helm. Today, you are exactly as cold and sarcastic and dry as you like, because you are confident in your own skin, and you do not temper yourself in the slightest. )

You smile up at her. “I think I’d like that!” 

Her grin widens, but then, an older Hero walks in⏤ Cementoss, you think. You have made an effort to memorize the roster. “To your seats, everyone.” He calls. 

You take out your notebook, neatly arranging your pens. New year, new you. You don’t have as many shifts at the hospital anymore⏤ you don’t need the experience exactly, as you’re sure UA will look good enough on your resume, but it can’t hurt. Besides, you enjoy working there anyways; the older nurses who help you out with a kind smile, the doctors who are almost always willing to answer a question. But the lessened shifts allow you to breathe, just a little, to settle back into a healthier routine; one no longer so bogged down by your thoughts. 

Math transitions quickly into English. You think you prefer Cementoss’s teaching style just a little, even if Present Mic is more energetic⏤ a little bit too loud for your tastes, you think. The material is basic, seeing as it’s the unofficial first day of class, and though you’ve already pre-studied most of the content, you end up writing most of it down, anyways. 

Lunchtime arrives. You balance your tray on your hands, walking side-by-side with Mina. Midoriya waves at you from his table, surrounded by an assortment of friends, and you nod back. “Let’s sit there!” The pink-haired girl points excitedly at a particular table. 

You see several boys from your class, some more familiar than the rest. A head of ash blonde, crimson eyes that glance up to meet your own. 

“Midoriya wanted me to sit with him today,” You say, a touch apologetic. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?” 

Her eyes widen a bit, and you note the glance, the observance. Her own smile is your mirror, just as apologetic, and just as assertive. “Maybe another time,” She says.

She knows what she wants, and she’s not afraid to say it. You like that about her. 

You incline your head, eyelid pulling down in a wink. “Do let me know which one you like,” 

She only laughs at you, her answering grin somewhat sly. 

All Might steps into the room after lunch, and though you’ve never been one of his particularly die-hard fans⏤ you think of your sunflowers, how you make fun of the things he likes, and he of yours⏤ you can admit that in person, he stands a legend in real life. You are just a little starstruck, you think, as he smiles at you, and says⏤ “Do try to keep your injuries to a minimum, though not to worry! Our healer team will be here to assist you!” 

You find yourself grinning a little as you respond, “Nothing fatal, though. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything about anyone bringing a dead person back to life.” 

He booms a laugh. “Naturally! You are all Heroes! You should refrain from using lethal power whenever possible!” 

He speaks too soon. The first teams are called up, and the matchup is almost comical. 

Bakugou will be fine. You know this. You are not worried for him in the slightest⏤ not that you would, you tell yourself, a touch sardonically.

No. What you worry for is the state of your Quirkless friend, and you are right to worry. Bakugou seems almost angrier than you’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying a lot, considering how good you are⏤ how good you used to be, you correct yourself⏤ at getting on his nerves, though Midoriya seems to be holding up very well. 

Your friend has grown, you think. He is not at all the same person he was over a year ago in that classroom. 

But you are right to worry, because All Might is shouting into his microphone. “Young Bakugou, stop! Are you trying to kill him?” 

No, you think, immediately, instinctively. You know Bakugou is many things, but he is not that. Never that.

You feel the force of that explosion from here. “This is supposed to be a class!” One of your classmates, red-haired and red-eyed, is saying. “You have to stop him!” 

“He knows what he’s doing.” You find yourself saying. Somewhat cold, somewhat callous. There are eyes on you, surprised.

You shrug.

You don’t really know why you say it, either. 

“Young Bakugou, the next time you use that, I’ll stop the fight, and your team will lose. To attack on such a large scale inside is inviting the destruction of the very stronghold you are supposed to be protecting. That is a foolish plan for both heroes and villains, and you will lose a lot of points!” 

You don’t need to look at him to feel his teeth gnash in anger, but you still watch the screen, anyways. 

Their clash is violent. You remember saying, once, that you dislike violence because you are a healer. But that is not entirely true, you think: you see the passion in their every movement, even as your green-haired friend receives the brunt of the beating, the callous elegance of it. The careful calculations, the years of training that you have walked alongside most of to witness. 

“This looks bad!” One of the classmates from before seems to shout. “Sensei!” 

You don’t dislike violence just because you are a healer. What you have always disliked is the senseless brutality of it, the cruelty of its aftermath. Not because you have to deal with it, but because sometimes, you can’t. 

You look to All Might. He seems to be struggling with something. 

“So long as it is not fatal,” Your voice is soft, but no less firm. “I can heal it.” 

His mouth tightens, but you see his decision made in that moment. 

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see Midoriya’s Quirk. Your eyes widen. It’s so sudden, so powerful, that you almost miss it; the blast entirely different from Bakugou’s own. So he was not Quirkless after all, you think, but all thought of that vanishes when you see the aftermath. 

All Might is turning for you, but you are already running. 

You see the two you are unfamiliar with first. “How is she?” You ask the blue-haired boy who stands upright. 

“I’m fine!” She gasps out. “Just nauseous! But Deku⏤” 

You hear the nickname, and you think you look a little strangely at her for it. You don’t dwell on it very long, though, because you’re already slipping past. 

Then, you see him, and though your heart stutters a little in your chest⏤ ( your bag, empty of its sunflowers )⏤ you still look him in the eye. You are professional. “Are you hurt?” You ask, because he is standing there, still gaping, a little open-mouthed. 

He turns that look upon you, and his eyes widen. 

The eye contact feels slightly unsettling. You look away first. “Well. If you are, you can let me know.” 

You kneel at the green-haired boy’s side. 

A hand stops you, just as you reach out. They’re a little bit bigger than what you’re used to, a little bit more callused. “Wait,” He says, voice raspy, and you tense a little: both at the familiar and unfamiliar touch, and because it’s been so long since you’ve heard his voice. “You don’t have to⏤” He scowls, cursing. “Recovery Girl.”

You blink up at him, a little confused. 

But then you see his eyes dart towards your arm, and then the green-haired boy’s, lying prone on the ground. 

“I am a healer. It’s what I do.” 

“That’s not what I⏤” He curses again under his breath. “The damn nerd will be fine. Does he even know about your Quirk?” 

“Why would that even matter?” You are confused, and you shove his arm away. Your friend is still hurt, and he is keeping you from your job. Why do you even care? You want to say.

You bite your tongue, and think: heal. 

Midoriya blinks awake halfway through. Your arm is covered in purple contusions, and he gasps, jerking away. “You⏤ your arm!” 

They fade within seconds. You only reach again for it, feeling the crimson gaze burning into the side of your face, as you’re sure the rest of the class is too, from their camera screens hundreds of meters away. You stare straight ahead, and think, heal, even as your arm ripples in agony again, painted and purple. 

You steal your patient’s pain, and you feel all of it, but you don’t show a thing. Because you are a healer, and that’s what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You are a healer, and that’s what you do, but the next day, Aizawa-sensei still admonishes you for it. 

“Your records are very impressive,” He tells you first, and you straighten. You figure: he is likely a man notorious for his lack of praise, so you might as well lap it up while you can. “However, just because you have a very high pain tolerance, does not mean you do not feel pain. Am I correct?” 

“Yes, sensei.” You dip your head. 

“The lot of you hear that, right?” He addresses the rest of the class. “She’s a healer, and she can heal almost anything, save those who are already dead. That’s very impressive, and it’s very rare. Don’t let her become your crutch. She will not always be there, and though she might say she doesn’t mind your burden, others will. Whether it’s yourself, your fellow Pro Heroes, or the civilians you are trying to save.” 

There is murmured assent from the class. 

He turns back to you. “Heroism is also about knowing when to step back and let others handle the situation. It is okay to share your burdens,” He tells you. 

You blink a little, surprised at the comments that are not really criticism at all. “I am a healer,” You state. “It’s what I do.” 

He sighs. “You’re just as stubborn as your mentor,” He says. 

You smile at this, chirping. “Thank you!”

“That was not a compliment.” 

You sink into your chair a little sheepishly, but it’s like a sun has been lit in your chest, because you take it as one anyways, and you are grinning. 

Lunchtime is a little strange today, for more reasons than one. Mina invites you again, but she doesn’t protest your decision, a knowing glint in her eye. But she doesn’t mention a thing, and you are grateful for it. 

Midoriya is sitting with the same people as yesterday, and he beams, delighted, as you slide into the seat beside him. Iida and Uraraka nod at you from across the table, and you nod back. 

Surprisingly, it’s the red-and-white haired boy across from you⏤ Todoroki, who breaks the silence. “My father says he would like to meet you.” 

You blink. That’s certainly not what you were expecting. “Endeavour, right?” 

He nods, his face deadpan. “Please decline.” 

You choke a little bit on the bite of food that has just entered your mouth. Midoriya slides you a napkin. 

You cough around it. “Wow, Todoroki-san. You really dislike me that much?” 

He shoots you a strange look. “Not at all. Why do you ask?” 

You’re a little confused. “Oh, that was a joke.”

“Apologies. I have never been very good with jokes.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, and I was planning on declining, anyways. I’m going to intern under Recovery Girl for the rest of my life!” 

“I will communicate that to him, then.” 

Midoriya coughs lightly from your other side. You elbow him. 

Uraraka giggles, but whatever she is going to say is cut off by the sound of the alarm. There has been a level three security breach, you hear. 

“Trespassing,” You hear someone clarify. 

You stare at the horde of gray-uniformed students crowding the hallway. You have never been a huge fan of crowds, especially ones as tightly-packed as this. Besides, you think, a touch dryly, that if there were an intruder, walking headfirst into a mosh pit like this would probably be the best way to get yourself caught up in a mass murder. 

But you don’t get to voice any of these concerns, because then Uraraka is tugging at your wrist. “If we don’t get ourselves in there now, we’re never going to get our way out! Come on!” 

You fall, weightless, and are carried away upon the sea.

It’s horrible. Internally, you curse the girl, and almost don’t even feel bad about it because yes, she’s like the sweetest person you’ve ever known, but she’s also reason you’re in the midst of a thousand wayward bodies right now, wrinkling your nose at the reek, and practically fighting for your life to keep your head above the throng. You are a healer, you think, a little despairingly, as you elbow someone so harshly that your own limb twinges. You are fighting a desperate battle, but nonetheless a losing one⏤ at least you are, until hands lift you by the waist and carry you forth; your savior cutting his way through the crowd with ease.

Your back hits the wall, and gratitude is on the tip of your tongue as you look up, but then you see him: ash-blond, and glaring at you with crimson eyes. “The hell were you thinking?” He hisses. “You don’t even like crowds.” 

You hate the familiarity in the way he says it, as if he still knows you, and you hate the way he cages you in against the wall, his body larger than you have known, but how it still feels the same, pressed up against yours.

( You think of your sunflowers, how your bag feels strangely empty without them. )

It is the nearest he has been to you in well over a year. You hate the way he smells, like burnt caramel, and you hate the way your cheeks warm. 

You want to say: neither do you, and you want to ask him why he even bothered to try and save you. You know he doesn't like you, not even in the slightest, not this liar who has wormed their way into his world; this liar that he tolerates. You think of a thousand witty remarks, ones that used to make his eyes light, the curl of his scowl somewhat harsh, but no less familiar, of giving voice to your outrage, to your feelings, and simply storming past. 

You choose none of the above. 

You still your features, the picture of calm, set the steel of your shoulders, and stare straight at a point above his shoulder. “Why do you even care?” 

You do not look at him, so you don’t see the way he recoils, ever-slightly. The expression he levels you, half-bewildered, half-disbelieving, the rest a complicated mix of emotions even he could not decipher himself.

You don't see the way he opens his mouth, because then Iida is there and shouting. 

You see your chance, and you don’t wait for his answer. You weren’t expecting one, anyways. 

He doesn’t even have the time to reach for you, before you slip past, and are gone. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You stand before the mouth of USJ, your heart in your throat. 

You barely notice the weight of the device upon your wrist; a monitor that connects you to all the ones distributed amongst the class, because there are villains down there, you think, a little dumbfoundedly. Real villains, like the type you see in movies, and you feel almost ridiculous, out of place, as if someone will smack you upside the head and tell you: wake up! and that you are not in a story. And you are not, because you pinch yourself, and yes, this is real life. 

You have never seen a villain yourself before, because you are a healer, and have only ever dealt with the aftermath of what they have done. You know the damage, the pain, the torture it can inflict upon a soul; the way sometimes, no one can ever fully heal them afterwards, not even you. So though you are a little wide-eyed, your thoughts blank, when the mist wraps around you, you don’t even think. 

You lunge. 

Crimson eyes widen, and he catches you, just one second before you fall into darkness as one. 

You try not to think about the way his body feels against yours, how he is cradling you, the way his hand automatically wraps around the back of your head. You feel the impact in your bones, though he bears the brunt of it. Automatically, you reach up, and think, heal, but you don’t have the time to do much else, because then his eyes widen, and he’s shoving you away. 

“STAY THERE!” Distantly, you think he is roaring at you, and another time, you might have protested that you could defend yourself. But the shock of it all is still settling in⏤ ( these are real villains, you think dazedly, and this is real life )⏤ and you are a healer, right now, you are nothing more than a civilian. 

In the aftermath, you still stand, dazed. Bakugou and another red-haired guy from your class are panting, smoke curling from your familiar ash-blond’s figure, and you register, like the world is separated from you by a film: it’s over. 

“Oi.” There are palms cupping your face, and you blink a little, startled, as crimson eyes boring into yours. “You hurt anywhere?” 

No, you think, a little too stunned to speak; the harshness of his tone at odds with the gentle manner of his touch. But then you see a hint of blood trickling down the side of his cheek.

As if on instinct, you reach out for him. He jerks away.

Wow, you think, the lump rising to your throat instantly. You had not known he hated you this much, to the point that he is unwilling of even your touch. 

“I am a healer,” You say, your throat somewhat tight. ( You think of sunflowers, your bag that is empty, your closet and its piled-up yellow. ) “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

You sense that he is watching you carefully, but your eyes do not rise to meet his gaze. You simply steal his pain, and you barely feel a thing⏤ even if his injuries were not so light, you think you are too numb to, anyways. 

You move past, and he does not reach for you. The red-haired classmate⏤ Kirishima, you recognize, grins at you, saying that he is unharmed. He offers to escort you back to the front, but then, your wristband is beeping, a location upon it.

You straighten. You are still afraid, you recognize, but there is someone out there that needs help, and this is simply another obstacle you must overcome. You will not always be in your hospital, tending to those that manage to get themselves wheeled in⏤ and though there is fear in you, there is also an equal determination. 

“There are people who need healing,” You say, and that is all you need to. 

You are a healer, but that does not mean you are any less brave.

You are a healer, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You ask Aizawa, two days later, if he would be willing to teach you self defense. 

( You remember a boy, back from what feels like eons ago. You, on his back, the sun in your chest as he offers to walk you both to and from school. You don’t even know where I’m going, you tease, and he only scoffs at you. Then I’ll teach you how to fight.

You think of your sunflowers, and your bag, empty of them.

Your throat tightens, and you make your decision. )

He looks a little surprised, and asks you if you are sure. He warns you that he will not be a lenient teacher, but you have seen how this man dove headfirst into danger to save his students; seen his kindnesses that are masked in the form of tough love. 

You also know he likes you, at least a little bit. If he hadn’t, he would not have complimented you like that on the third day, would not have had the hint of fondness in his tone as he drawled, that wasn’t a compliment. 

And even if he doesn’t, you know he will be at least a little lenient. 

You had been the one to heal him, after all. 

You are wrong.

You hate running. Always have. You started training, years ago, but that had been entirely out of spite, and in the wake of it⏤ ( your bag, empty of sunflowers )⏤ you had stopped. You hate running, always have, and you have no time, you’d told yourself, nor the energy⏤ but really, you hate it because it reminds you of him.

Now, you hate it for a different reason. You hate it because Aizawa pushes you, hard, until your lungs are gasping for air, your knees and legs trembling⏤ you think, somewhat sourly, that none of your healings had ever prepared you for this. You have healed all manner of wounds, cured a variety of diseases, but that does not change the fact even back when you were running, you had not put everything you had into it, and that now, you are trembling, bones soft, muscles even more so, somewhat like a deer.

You heal fast, though, you always have. You would not have been able to heal without it⏤ Aizawa knows this, which is why he pushes you hard. “If you hadn’t been so dedicated to medicine,” He tells you, “I would’ve told you to go the Hero route instead.” 

You shrug. The thought has never occurred to you. Your mother is a doctor, and as soon as your Quirk had developed, you had never thought about anything else. But you don’t get a chance to voice it, or even to thank him, because then he’s hauling you up by the arm.

“Break’s over,” He informs you, a signature shit-eating grin on his face. You think you’re beginning to hate the sight of it. “Back to running.” 

You sigh, before dutifully acquiescing. 

Schoolwork is easier, at least, though between your sparse shifts at the hospital and Aizawa’s daily after-school training, you are pretty much spent. You don’t even register Mina chatting excitedly beside you about the upcoming UA sports festival that Aizawa has just announced⏤ you only think, a little despairingly; more work. 

You glance up at your pink-haired friend’s surprised exclamation, and you see: a crowd of people, so many that from your vantage point, it seems like it’s the intruder incident all over again. A scoff, vaguely familiar⏤ “They’re obviously scoping out the competition, small fries. We’re the group that made it out of the villain attack.” Someone protests, telling him to play nice⏤ no, you think. This is him being nice. “Out of my way, extras!” 

“I came to see what the famous Class 1-A is like, but you all seem pretty arrogant. Are all the students in the Hero courses like this?” 

You see: a head of purple hair, mussed, and you think⏤ wow, he could be Aizawa if your sensei’s hair was shorter, purple, and he were using his Quirk. 

“Seeing something like this makes me disillusioned. There are quite a few people who enrolled in general studies or other courses because they didn’t make it into the Hero course. Did you know that?” 

You didn’t, but he only continues. 

“The school has left those of us a chance. And based on the results of the sports festival, they’ll consider our transfer into the Hero course, and vice versa. Scoping out the competition?” He scoffs. “I, at least, came to say that even if you’re in the Hero course, if you get too carried away, I’ll sweep your feet out from under you.” His eyes flash, chin raised high. “Consider it a declaration of war.”

You sigh a little internally at the theatrics. “Excuse me, coming through.” You call. You ignore the way the ash-blond tenses a little as you walk up beside him, and you smile politely at the crowd; your uniform your armor, and your makeup your helm. You can do damage control just fine. “I’m class 1-A’s healer, so I don’t have a bone to pick with you really, but,” You cock your head. “All we did was fight off and survive a villain attack. I’m not sure how that’s arrogance. Have any of us gone out of our way to bother you?” 

You are sure your classmates haven’t, because though you have not known them long, you are observant enough to tell that they are good and entirely dedicated to the path of Heroism. And you are right: he is wordless in the face of your diplomatic tone, the maturity of it all. 

But then⏤ a laugh, somewhat mocking. You think you recognize the voice, and you do: it’s class 1-B’s understudy, standing in the middle of the crowd. You have not talked to her much, thinking her quiet, but it seems that really, she just dislikes you. 

“That’s so rich of you to say,” She says, with a scoff. “Sucking up to Recovery Girl all the time, parading around like you own the place, all because you went viral and people started calling you The Best Healer of our Generation.” 

You blink⏤ you remember Sueko mentioning it once, you think, after one of your co-workers, one of the older interns had started making videos of you, with your consent. You had not put much thought behind it, and you hadn’t the time to, between your many hours and the boneless weariness that had been so constant in your life after.

“Get off your high horse,” She snarls, a vehement finality to it, as she scans you, up, and then down. 

You don’t know what to say, because honestly, you had never thought of yourself that way; had not thought of any others thinking of you that way. There are cries of outrage from behind you, you hear, distantly, as if you are underwater, but you are still stuck on the way she scans you. As if you are less than what you are, reduced to the painted trim of your nails, the makeup on your face, less than what you are and undeserving. As if it does not matter that you go to the hospital more often than not, your features clear, your hair pulled up, and lose yourself in your work; the agony of your patients, healing them and then some more until your bones ache with the ghost of their pain and you drop dead to your pillow, your phone turned off. 

You are silent not because you are hurt, exactly⏤ you do not know this girl, and she does not know you⏤ but because you are so stunned. You don’t know what to say, because you have never thought yourself reduced to just this, less than what you are and undeserving. Distantly, you hear the cries of outrage, you feel yourself, adrift amidst an ocean, your hands clenching. You don’t know how to start, or what to even say.

But he does. 

“She doesn’t use social media,” He starts, and yes, you don’t, but how does he know? “It obviously wasn’t even her recording the videos, you fuckwit, and it says in the account biography that it’s owned and run by a friend.” 

You are staring at him, your heart held like hope in your throat. ( You think of your sunflowers. ) You don’t understand why he is saying this, why he is stepping in for you. ( You remember making fun of the things he likes, and he of yours. You remember finding that you do not regret lying the first day and calling him your best friend, because even if you are not even friends⏤ he is tolerant of you, he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, he walks with you before school, and he walks with you after. He never calls himself your friend, but he believes in you and your dream, and promises to walk you to and from school anyways, even if you do not attend the same one. )

He does not look at you, nor does he pause, and though there is anger in his voice, you think he is holding himself back. “High horse?” He laughs sardonically. “Get off yours. She’s already ten times the healer, hell, the Hero, you’ll ever be.” 

( He doesn’t call himself your friend, but he still stands up for you. )

You don’t know what sort of expression you’re making, but it has to be ugly, something complicated, not exactly bewilderment nor gratitude or simply hope but some combination of them all; like something in between. 

“And what would you know? What are you, her guard dog?” She snarks back. 

And finally, you find your voice. 

“He does what he likes.” 

You are still watching him, and you see the way his hands clench, and then unclench. 

( You think very briefly of your sunflowers, and you think that you will always miss them. You can heal any wound on this earth, save the fatal ones, but you cannot heal the hole he has carved into your heart; not the one from this boy who knows you, every facet, both the good and the bad. You have never needed to hide the unsavory parts of yourself from him; after all, your very relationship was built upon a lie. You think a part of you has always loved him for it, will always love him for it⏤ this boy who is not your friend, has never been your friend, but still knows you, stands up for you, and believes in you, in all of you. And, you think, even if he does not care for you, there will always be a part of you that always cares for him. )

You turn to level her with a cool stare. 

“He’s right,” You say. “I don’t use social media, and before you call me a liar, just listen.” You add, as her mouth opens. 

( Your mother is a doctor, and when your Quirk develops, you know you want to go the same route. You have never even considered anything else; never even thought of being a Hero, until your sensei tells you that he might’ve pushed you for it, had you not already been so dedicated to the path.

And you will not pretend like you have been good every step of the way⏤ you are not that much of a good person. Your mother tells you to play nice, because you are a willful child, vindictive in both your action and your speech, and petty enough to hold onto your grudges. You are not that much of a good person, you have never particularly cared to cater to the feelings of those around you unless you feel like it; do not care to stand up for a boy who has done nothing to you, just because he has done nothing for you.

You are grown now, better now, you know, but some elements of you still remain. You still wear your outfits like your armor, though it is not your hair but your makeup that is now your helm, you take time with your appearance and you take care of it every morning. Your volunteering at the hospital was not born entirely out of unselfish intention⏤ firstly because your mother said it was what you should do, and second because you thought the experience would look good, especially since you were applying to UA. But⏤ )

“I don’t know why you applied to UA, but I know why I did.” You say, simply. “It was because I wanted to become a healer, and this is one of the best places in the world to do it.” You straighten, jerking a finger at the ash-blond beside you. “We all went through the same application process. Take him, for example. He’s arrogant, he’s loud, and he always gets on your nerves. But that doesn’t make him any less passionate, or any less of a Hero. It doesn’t matter, because if you’re determined enough, strong enough, you’ll eventually rise to the top.”

You are the center of attention, but you have never been so aware of a singular set of eyes, burning straight into you.

You continue. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want to be, but that goes for the rest of you, too.” You jerk your thumb back to your classroom. “There’s a green-haired boy in there that everyone thought was Quirkless, including himself. But he had a dream that he dared to try for, and look where he is now.” 

You look at your fellow intern, the class 1-B one. 

“I don’t use social media for a variety of reasons, haven’t for a long while, and I won’t pretend like all of them were good. But ever since I started volunteering at the hospital, whenever I think about it, I think: every second I spend scrolling the internet could be another life lost. Someone I didn’t save, something I didn’t learn that could’ve helped someone in the future.” Your shoulders are set, and you lift your chin high. “You can think I’m a liar all you want, but I would hope, as a healer, you would be at least able to understand this.” 

She is mute, and you look at the rest of the crowd, wearing your outfit like armor, your makeup, your helm. 

You raise one eyebrow. “Anything else?” 

Silence is your only answer, and you shrug.

“See you around, I guess.”

The crowd parts mutely before you, but then your wrist is clasped in a hand⏤ you think, very briefly, of sunflowers, but then you turn, and it is Mina grinning up at you, several others from your class in tow. “You’re so fucking cool,” She tells you, bright and genuine. 

You are not that much of a good person, never have been, and, you think, you are not entirely sure if you ever will be. You will never be entirely unselfish, free of your precociousness, your pettiness, your occasional lying habits, and all the other thousand-and-one flaws you could find in yourself, if you really tried. 

But you are growing. You are the same you that you were before, and you are also different. 

You grin at her. “I know I am,” You say. 

You are not that much of a good person, but you are growing, just as much the person you were before, as you are someone new.

You are a healer, you are yourself; this is who you are, and this is what you do. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

His mother calls him out on his sulking, barely a week in.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She frowns, and his heart clenches painfully in his chest.

“S’fine,” He snarls. “Keep your damn nose out of my business, old hag.” 

For once, his mother does not take him up on the challenge⏤ he almost wishes she would. He’s been itching for a fight, to get it out of his system somehow, but she’s always been able to read him⏤ just like you.

Mitsuki waves the phone in her hand. “Her father said she won’t be joining us for weekly dinners anymore⏤ she’s started volunteering at the hospital, and just won’t have time.” She states, plainly, and without judgment. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, or if you’re still friends, but you were probably a little shit like usual, so get off your ass and go apologize.” 

Apologize. That damned word. He hates it. And he’s considered it, but then he remembers: you, your face, the way it had crumpled, and then the way you’d sneered, don’t talk to me again.

He has always been able to tell your lies from your truths, and it stunned him in the moment, because it had not seemed like so much of a lie. 

And it’s not. He sees the truth of it, a week later, when you skip out on your weekly dinners, accept your volunteer position, and cut the whole of him from your life, just like that. He sees the truth of it, on the first day of school, as he waits by your intersection and is almost late because you aren’t there, as he scans his class for your face and finds you absent, when you pass him in the halls and don’t even bother to look up. He sees the truth of it two months later, when that damned nerd stands at your table, a tray in his hands, and you allow him to sit. His heart is in his throat, clenching around something painful, there is smoke rising from his hands⏤ Deku looks up instinctively, flinching, and you do not even bother to turn. 

( You and your sunflowers, the way you smile like the sun when you find out he is allergic, and go out of your way to plaster sunflower-themed things all over yourself, and he’s not quite sure if they are your favorite flower, or you do it just because you hate him. But then he gets to know you, slowly and over the years, a thousand-and-one forced interactions until he finds, one day, that he is not reacting so sharply to your barbs, uncaring that you flop onto his bed and muss up the sheets, unminding of your chatter, your studious, stupidly competitive nature, the way your eyebrows knit a little when you focus on a more difficult concept, or how you’re grinning as you annoy him, rambling about anything and everything; your fictional crushes.

You say you want to be a healer, and the first thing he thinks is: that’s stupid, why not a Hero?⏤ but your eyes are determined as you say it, there is a fire in them, and he sees that bleed into the way you do things; the way you act. You never call him your friend⏤ you have, once, very clearly a lie⏤ but he punches your pseudo-stalker for you, promises to walk you to and from school, even if he does not know which one you might go to, promises to teach you how to fight. It’s stupid, he knows it is, the way he tenses when you joke that you want him to kiss you so bad because he’s imagining it. And then the guilt after, when you press your cheek softly into the curve of his nape, feeling the dried-out tracks of your tears, the way you shudder as you steal his pain⏤ barely-there, but he feels it, anyway. )

He looks at you, properly, fork crumpling in his hand. “Yo. You’re staring.” One of his friends nudges him, gently, and he forces himself to look away. 

( You, the sunflowers you bedazzle yourself in, your bag absent of them, and the way you never wear anything yellow ever again. )

He’s angry at you, at first. It’s unfair, he thinks, the way you seem to carve him completely out of your life, with all the practiced precision of a surgeon, that he spends almost all his time thinking about you, and that you do not do the same for him. You don’t want to talk to him, you’ve made that abundantly clear, and that’s fine⏤ he has his pride, and he is not going to beg you to stay. Not when you chose the nerd over him. 

But then you stand in the doorway. You look like you did the first day, clear-eyed, but older. Your eyes widen when they catch sight of him, ever-slight, but he’s never missed a single expression on your face, and he does not miss it now. All of a sudden, he wants to talk to you so badly that it hurts⏤ he sees the bags under your eyes and wants to tell you to sleep, the bone-weariness with which you carry yourself, your step absent of skip. 

But then, your gaze drops. He sees your bag, absent of its sunflowers. 

He feels as if his gut were a stone, heavy and damning. 

He remembers: you have never once thought of him as a friend, and he will not beg you to. He will respect your space, your wishes. 

And yet. You stand by the entrance, the day of that first class, fierce and silhouetted by the sun. Are you hurt? You ask him, and it feels as if he were floating, stuck in a dream.

He takes too long to respond, and you give him a once-over, clearly discerning he is fine. You kneel by the damn nerd’s side, and he feels the absence of your attention like a physical thing, but even that is secondary to the horror he feels when you reach the other boy; his arm painfully bruised and almost a terror to look at. 

He wants to say: you don’t have to do this, you don’t have to hurt yourself. There are other healers in the building, and don’t you have a mentor? You raved about Recovery Girl all the time, there’s no reason you should be taking his pain for yourself. And the nerd will be fine⏤ anger clenches at him, then, because if the nerd knows about your Quirk and still allows you to hurt yourself for him⏤ “Why does that even matter?” You ask him, and he hears the ghost of what you don’t say: why do you even care?

He does. Of course he does. He always has, even when you giggle to yourself about something so blatantly stupid, even when you are an entire pain in his ass. 

But then he thinks of you, your bag empty of sunflowers, the way you have not worn yellow since. 

His arm drops back to his side, and he says nothing more to you, just as you’d like. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You have always disliked crowds, but so has he. 

He is watching you when it happens, sees you lingering hesitantly by the exit. You’ll be smart about it, he’s sure⏤ he’s hotheaded, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid or blind. But then⏤ brown-haired cheeks tugs you by the wrist, forcing you into the throng, and he thinks: what the fuck? 

He knows it’s stupid, and that you won’t thank him for it, but he dives after you, anyway. 

He forces his way towards you, watching as you elbow someone particularly hard with a surge of pride, before he’s holding you and marching away, towards the wall, towards free space, trying not to think about how you feel in his arms, how you feel with the whole of you pressed against him. He needs to say something, anything to distract himself, so what he says is: “What the hell were you thinking? You don’t even like crowds.” 

Your cheeks are a little flushed, and you are staring at him. He feels his own warm in turn, and he feels like a kid again, heart like a sun in his chest. 

Your features still. Your mouth flattens, and you are cold as you say what you did not only a day before. “Why do you even care?” You ask.

He does. Of course he does. 

But you do not ask this question in hopes of an answer. Your gaze slides past, and then you go with it, refusing to give him even the time to reach for you. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When the mist envelops him, the first thing he turns towards is you. 

His eyes widen⏤ you are already in the air, lunging at him, and he barely has the mind, the presence of thought to catch you. You fall as one, and his gut lurches⏤ he wraps himself around you, shielding your vitals, your head from harm, and gladly takes the brunt of the impact. He has all of a second to check up on you, to feel you pressed against him, know that you are safe, before he catches sight of more villains behind. “STAY THERE.” He shoves you into a corner, setting his back to you⏤ and when they are done, you have not moved an inch.

He sees the daze of your eyes, the shock, and cups your cheeks anyways, trying to ground you. “Oi,” He says, harsh, but also soft. “You hurt anywhere?” 

You blink up at him, and then at the red he barely feels sliding down the side of his cheek. 

He jerks away. He doesn’t want you to touch him, not to heal him⏤ he’s strong, he’s fine, he can deal with it, he doesn’t need you to steal his pain. Not when it’ll hurt you. 

“I am a healer,” You say, and his heart clenches again at the sound of your voice, and again when you tell him: “You are hurt, and I am simply repaying a favor.” 

He hears the steel in your voice, lets you touch him.

He would give anything to curl into your touch, even if for the rest of your life, your relationship is just like this: he, the dog, and your favors, the bone. He wants it, so long as you will keep on touching him like this, and yet he also doesn’t want it, because he cannot bear to be the one causing you such pain. 

He is angry beyond words when the extra starts laying into you like she does, and you simply stand there, bearing the brunt of it all. 

He’s watched the videos, seen every single one. Seen how hard you work inside of them⏤ the comments talk about how beautiful you are, but all he can think of is the tired pallor of your face⏤ but what’s more is that he knows how hard you work outside, too, and who is this girl to even talk about you like that, when she doesn’t know what it’s like to take the pain of another, and make it into your own? His tone of delivery is quiet, no less than lethal, and he speaks with every ounce of pride he has in you and the person that you are. 

You are watching him, he thinks, and he thinks, somewhat dizzily, that this is it. You’ll chew him out in front of the crowd, call him out on his bullshit, tell him to stop speaking about you, speaking for you, that you hate him, that he’s stupid, anything and everything of the above. 

But you do not.

You only rise, and he thinks that you are not at all the girl he has known before. Some parts of you are the same, entirely unchanged, but you have grown⏤ so much that it takes his breath away. You have always been coolly elegant in your deliveries when you mean it, but this⏤

He thinks: it is okay if you never want to talk to him, if you don’t care one bit. It is okay if you choose never to wear yellow again, your bag remaining empty of its sunflowers, it is okay if you carve him entirely from your life. 

He will respect your wishes, and watch from the sidelines, basking in the radiance of you: the healer, the girl, and simply everything that you are. 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

You should not be here. 

You feel terribly out of place in this darkened room, with a crowd of familiar villains before you, disoriented and groggy. 

If it were not for the ash-blond by your side, you think you might’ve started hyperventilating. You are quiet as you wake. You notice: his hands are bound, but yours are not⏤ they know you are a healer, you think, and they do not fear you. 

You feel, rather than see, crimson eyes slide to yours. You blink up at him. 

And then, his eyes flicker up.

You see the resolve set firmly onto his face. You know him, likely more than he does himself, which is why you know what he will say. 

He says: “I’ll listen. I’ll consider working with you, so long as you make sure to leave her out of it.” 

No. The word clangs into you with a force, a viciousness. You jolt upwards, so fast your head spins⏤ no. You know he won’t. He is a Hero to the core, and you know this, because you have decided early on that you will remain a step behind him always, even if he does not care at all for you, there and ready to steal away your pain. You have decided: you will see him live out all of his days, full of glory and entirely unscathed, victorious, and you will not watch him burn his life away like this, tucked away in a corner of this world, quietly and without a sound. 

He lies to protect you, and you decide there and then that it isn’t worth it. You know him, have spent a thousand and one days getting to know him, just as you know that his bluff will be called before long, because though Bakugou Katsuki is many things, you have always known him to be a terrible liar. 

You aren’t, though.

You straighten, and rasp. “No, he won’t.” 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

He watches you straighten, watches you drawl, and he feels a terror like ice creeping up to his throat.

Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, soft and lovely under the candlelight, but then⏤ “Katsuki’s going to be a Hero,” You tell them, and his heart stutters because when was the last time you actually called him by his name? 

“Shut the fuck up,” He tells you.

You ignore him.

“Trust me when I say, this guy’s like, the biggest All Might fan you’ll ever see. Well, actually, maybe not the biggest⏤ Midoriya’s collection is insanely impressive, but you get the point. Did you really see his actions at the Sports Festival and think that was your opening?” 

You stand, a smirk on your face, and he wants to tell you to shut the hell up again, to just stop talking, but⏤ you turn, you flash him a grin, and it’s like he’s six again and seeing you for the first time. You see him, in a way no one else ever has, in a way that assuages all the criticism he’s seen since, narrowing his world down to these things: you, and your unwavering confidence in him. Your lips are pulled into your liar’s smile, you are scared and terrified and pretty much everything in between, but he hears your words, hears your truth.

“Newsflash, losers. He’s wanted to be a Hero ever since he was a kid, and nothing’s ever going to change that.” 

His heart swells so tight he thinks it’s going to burst. You, in this moment, like you still care, that he’s not alone in this, and that he cares for you more than anything else in the world, loves you more than you will ever know. 

You do not need to say anything else, because there is a knock on the door⏤ pizza delivery, someone calls, and then the door opens; All Might in the flesh. The heroes⏤ and then you are scrambling for him, your fingers fumbling with the knots, but he simply jerks his hands apart, tearing the fabric, and reaches for yours. 

You still a little, surprised, flinching back a bit, but his heart is singing⏤ you care, he thinks, somewhat dumbly, like a mantra bouncing around inside his head. He barely registers the rest of it⏤ he emerges by the ruins of a building, your hand still in his, piloting the both of you around the villains who try to keep you. Shitty Hair, calling down at him from the fucking sky⏤ what the fuck? but then he’s calling for you, and then there is you: looping your arms around his neck, knowing, instinctively, what he means.

His chest warms like the sun, ethereal and glorious. 

You blast together into the night. His hand lands upon another one, similarly callused, and then he’s curling his other around you, latching you to him. Your head is settled in the crook of his neck, and you don’t protest it in the slightest, only untangling yourself once you land.

You don’t reach for his hand once you do, but that’s okay. His heart is singing. 

He snarls at the others in his usual manner, and you assert yourself with your own. He follows you as you walk, a step behind. The others leave you at the police station, their own parents plenty concerned, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest⏤ he gets to walk you home, after all. 

You are silent as he does. He walks a step behind, and does not prod you. 

You stop. He does, too. Your hands ball up into fists. He watches, waiting. 

Finally, you whisper. “Why the hell’d you do it?” 

That is not at all what he’s expecting you to say.

“Hah?” He’s never been good with his words, always more combative than means. Particularly with you. Especially with you. “Cause I wanted to, dumbass. The hell do you want me to say?” 

You whip around and slug him instantly, punching him square in the gut. 

He barely bends from the force of it. You clutch your fist, teary and glaring. 

“Fuck you,” You hiss. “Fuck you, Katsuki. You don’t just get to pretend like you care when you want to, whenever it suits you! You don’t get to⏤” 

He’s stunned into silence. He’s the one that’s pretending like he cares about you?

Your mouth opens and closes, so angry that you cannot quite find the words. “You don’t get to just fucking try and sacrifice yourself for me! What the fuck!” 

He steps closer, disbelief lighting a second sun in his chest.

You lash out. “Stay away from me!” 

He catches it in his hand, and you try to fucking headbutt him. He dodges that, too, and then he’s pulling you into him, as tight as his heart feels.

You stiffen. Frankly, he doesn’t give a shit, not when he’s figured out how you really feel. 

“I’m sorry,” He rasps into your ear. “I care for you. I’ve liked you since we were fucking six, and you shoved your stupid fucking sunflowers in my face. I was angry. I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You do not move. Do not breathe, and for all of a second, he thinks: this is it. 

And then, you crumple. 

He can count the number of times he’s seen you cry on one hand, but you weep into his shoulder now, a year’s worth of repressed emotions wrung out of you in an instant. You melt into him so perfectly he feels as if he was made for you, the weight of you so perfect and familiar in his arms. “You’re so fucking stupid,” He thinks you are saying though it’s somewhat unintelligible, between your sobs and the way your voice is muffled from being pressed into his chest. 

He chuffs in your ear. “Feel free to add blind and ugly to the list, if you’d like.” 

You laugh, broken and teary, but then your arms rise, and you are wrapping them around him.

He thinks: it’s okay if the world ends right then and there, so long as he gets to hold you; just like this; just then and there; just for a moment longer. 

( He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How your face had lit up in absolute delight at the sound of his first sneeze, and how you’d stepped forward to thrust it further into his face, a wicked grin on yours all the while. How you lie your way into weekly dinners, and he’s furious, swearing he won’t talk to his parents for the whole of a month⏤ but then you’re there, in his room and making fun of his figurines.

You say, somewhat disinterestedly, that you think you remember a new All Might one on the market. He caves, and his vow lasts only a week. 

He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile. How he had always hated the sight of them before you; a young god faced with his one mortal weakness, but as time went on, he learned how he did not quite mind the look of them on you. He thinks of you and your sunflowers, your liar’s smile; soft and lovely under the candlelight, scared and shaking and terrified but still believing wholly in him, just as he does you. 

He thinks he has loved you since forever. )

Absent-mindedly, he presses his mouth to your hair.

And in the light of the dawn, pink-streaked and painting you awash in sunflower yellow, you look up at him, and smile. 

bc i need to rant about this fic: afterword

[loganbcrnes]

Mine

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x female!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Rough Sex, Dom/sub, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Logan (X-Men), Feral Behavior, Rut Sex, mention of frank castle, Explicit Sexual Content, Breeding, Impregnation, Marking, Blow Jobs, Logan has a big cock, and hes very hairy yes, Reader-Insert Authors note: originally posted this on my ao3, but decided to just upload the full one-shot here as well. link. Not beta'ed and no description of reader Summary: Logan unexpectedly goes into rut and you're there to help him through it.

You had no idea what you were anticipating when Logan came home from work. Before he left in the morning, he was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn’t himself. His scent was also stronger than normal. It didn’t take you long to realize something was wrong, the bond felt stronger between you two like it was during the war and before you even began to make lunch, you received a text from your Logan.

Logan: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in rut.

This caught you by surprise. Most alphas these days didn’t get ruts and omegas didn’t get heats either. Just like they’re becoming rarer as time goes by. it’s sad really, back before the war, before Hydra - you were able to go into heat. You always spent it alone back in the 30s, you even got time off from your part-time job as a nurse when you were temporarily staying in Ireland. Logan could go into ruts too before Project X. during the war you both would help each other out, which led to you both bonding until the train mission fucked all of that up.

But now it’s 2021, over 70 years have gone by and 3 years since The Snap. You are forever thankful that both you and Logan survived it. You don’t know what you would have done if your beloved alpha was taken away from you once again. Since then you both decided to get a nice cabin in the mountains to get away from everything. You both were done fighting, tired of constantly losing people you loved. 

Logan got a job in construction in town about an hour away. So he didn’t usually come home until around 6 pm. You were thankful when you got the news that Frank Castle and his pack of alphas were moving a few miles away from your cabin a few months ago. You know it can get isolated in this area, so to have friends that you consider family to come and visit was nice.

There was no time to think about the next course of action though, it was clear what you had to do and something you thought you wouldn’t ever do again. Logan would be back in about half an hour, which gave you time to set up the room and go for a nice shower. 

You immediately went into one of the cupboards in your walk-in wardrobe for blankets. Logan didn’t necessarily like making nests, he always said and his quote: “ya’ don’t need to make those things no more lady, you use your alpha.” in his deep gruff tone. So you resorted to cuddling at least 2 times a day instead and he would fuck you into the mattress just how like it every time. 

Once you got a mattress onto the floor with a ton of blankets and pillows littered onto it, you went into the bathroom and stripped down. You cleaned up and once you were done, you slipped on a white silky nightie that reached down to your thighs. After that you got some nice cold water bottles to put beside the nest. As you were done you heard the door click open.

Logan could smell you before he even got out of his truck. His heightened senses were even more sensitive and he could smell just how wet you already were. All he could think about was knot, breed, mate- over and over as he got closer to the door.

It was rather embarrassing when he started to sweat and get a hard-on on his lunch break. He didn’t understand at first, but then recognized the symptoms to be a rut. Thankfully Frank was there to get him to leave, but damn did that hurt his ego a little.

Once he entered he was hit again with your strong scent. It was so sweet, sweeter than usual that he was beginning to think that maybe his rut could trigger your heat. He sure hoped so. Your scent was a mixture of roses and strawberries, he used to hate strawberries before he met you, but now it’s one of his favourite fruits.

You looked up from your iPad as Logan walked in and put down his backpack. “Hey,” you said as you got up, but were cut off by a squeak when he immediately jumped you. He picked you up by your thighs, making his way to your bedroom, his lips never leaving your neck. He nipped and sucked little bruises into your soft flesh. He put you down gently onto the mattress and started groping your breasts. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day, Darlin’”. Logan growls as he starts kissing down the valley between your breasts. He pulled back and slipped off your nightie, revealing your breasts and wet cunt. You blushed and looked away, but your alpha immediately notices. “Hey, no looking away from your alpha now,” Logan says as he grips your jaw to look back at him. 

“Sorry, Alpha” you shyly say. Logan only grunts back in reply as he stares down at you. You grip at his clothes, “off, please” you whine at him. Logan immediately starts to strip down, you stare at his glorious beefy body as he takes off his pleated shirt and jeans. Your eyes traveled the trail of hair down to his already hard cock. You lick your lips wanting to taste so badly. 

Logan notices as smirks, he leans back down to press his lips against yours, just as a whimper escapes through your lips, giving you a smoldering kiss which leaves you breathless within seconds, distracting you as he continues to run his hand up and down the curves of your body, getting closer to your sensitive parts.

You are gasping for breath when he pulls away, and in your complete haze, you watch him as he slowly climbs down your body, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails his hot kisses on you all the way down. He parts your legs further so he could get more comfortable between them, then when he presses a kiss at your nether lips, his fingers parting your folds so he could find your slick entrance and give a long, hungry lick right at where your desire is centered until you cry out. “Taste so fucking sweet ‘mega”. Logan growls as he licks your clit. You hear him moan and you open your eyes to look down at him, to see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out as he sucks on your cunt, licking your entrance. You feel the hard tips of Logan’s fingers right at your opening, you moan when you feel two fingers parting your hot pussy, your walls instantly begin spasming around them, sucking them inside your depth.

“So hot, baby,” Logan growls, his warm breath falling on your sensitive folds as he whispers between the kisses he is giving you right at your heated core. “I’ve wanted to taste you since I could smell your sweet scent before I even got outta my car.”

You can’t think straight, you’re totally blissed out and your mind is filled with alphalphabreedmatealphabreed constantly, you reckon he has triggered your heat, but you don’t even realize and neither does he. His cock is stiff and swollen, you notice the center of his length has a bulge, showing that his knot is starting to form.  Your cheeks begin to heat up realizing that you’re doing this to your alpha. 

You go deeper and deeper into submission, surrendering yourself to your alpha, letting him know he can use you however he wants. Logan feels everything you feel, your bond is so strong that it’s overwhelming for the both of you. 

He continues to tease you with his fingers for a few more seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sends a series of shivers trembling through your body. He licks across your sensitive bud leisurely, biding his time with his eyes on you to take in every single reaction you are giving him through every lick, every swirl of his tongue. He has never seen anything so beautiful. He flicks his tongue from around your clit, down to your slit, moving back and forth as he continues to plunge his fingers into you. You begin to shake as you are nearing the edge.

He must have felt it, because he continues to lick at your cunt, slick pouring out as he slurps it all up, growls deeply against your pussy. “Come for me, little mate.”

You let out a whimper at his command but feel helpless to resist him. You can’t hold it in anymore as you come to your release. “Alpha!”. You moan out as you arch your back, Logan continues to milk through your orgasm and makes sure to gather every drop of cum.

Once you come down from your high, Logan pulls back and climbs up the bed kneeling right beside your head. Keeping one hand at your chin, he raises your head up as he uses the other hand to pump his cock, aiming the crown tip on your swollen lips. “Go and put your pretty mouth to use, Darlin’,” Logan says. A drop of pre-cum leaks from the slit, making you drool at the taste, while the heady scent of his cock fills your senses as you breathe him in.

You eagerly nod, barely catching a breath from your strong orgasm, he slips his cock through your open mouth, wanting to satisfy your alpha.

Groaning, Logan reaches down and squeezes your nipple as he thrust in and out of your mouth with almost the same force he would use if he is deep inside your pussy. 

“Love these tits of yours baby, love to see them jiggle when I fuck your tight cunt” Logan continues to grope your tits as he dirty talks. He thrusts into your mouth hard and you moan at his words, cheeks reddened at how dirty he’s making you feel.

You suck the entire length of him each time, loving the feel of the head of his cock at the back of your throat. Using his other hand, Logan grabs onto your hair, keeping you steady as he plunges deeper inside your mouth, pummelling deep into your throat each time he reaches to the brim.

His heavy balls filled with seed, slaps against your chin, loving the sensation and feeling dirty all at the same time. You dig your nails into his thigh with one hand and into the sheets with the other, holding on tightly as your lover uses your mouth for his pleasure. “So fucking good, baby. Always taking my fat cock so well. Look at you choking on it” Logan rambles as he thrusts into your mouth. He groans as you suck hard. You continue to choke as his knot is forming. 

Logan’s cock falls out of your mouth with a pop. The spasms of your climax remain. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. You feel movement and blankets being moved on the mattress. After a few minutes, you feel a hand caress your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ears. You open your eyes to see Logan, his pupils are dilated to the point you only almost only see black. “You okay, Honey?” Logan asked. He leans down to press soft kisses to your cheeks and down to your neck. You hum as you lean into his touch, “Want you now Lo”. you said, “please knot me, need it so bad”. 

You’re a whimpering mess now, grinding your clit against Logan’s muscular thigh. Logan growls as he pulls back, he grabs a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent, and the knees with your ass and pussy on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long fingers trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened cock into you and knot you full of his seed.

Logan’s eyes screwed shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Logan out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. “Please Alpha, breed me, I’m ready,” you say to him. 

Logan is always less talkative during sex and now that he’s in his rut and possibly gone feral, his mind is screaming to him to knot and breed your tight cunt, to the point he can’t form words.

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, even with your fast healing. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed and veins popping out alongside his length from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coat your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, feeling the familiar sensation you felt back during the war. His size is bigger, so much thicker and longer than his normal length when he is not in rut. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size. 

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Logan begins thrusting his hips slowly into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, barely giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, “need to breed you now.”

You moan out loud “please, please alpha, need you to fill me up with your pups” you continue to beg him. 

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his thick muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to again, even though Logan tried to avoid knotting you back then because you both didn’t have enough time, there were times when he would sneak into your sleeping quarters to knot you in the middle of the night, his hand pressed against your mouth to reduce your loud moans as he thrusts his large cock into you; but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Logan thrusts in and out of your pussy effortlessly, your slick coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust, he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls and hitting your cervix to make a sound. A loud moan leaves your lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His sweaty hairy chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his teeth.

“Taking me so well.”

He says in his deep voice. The praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Logan I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your bond mark as he sucks harshly on it. 

A string of cuss words falls from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full-blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, gonna breed you, Baby, have you pumped up with my pups. Gonna look so sexy with your tits filled with milk and your pregnant belly.” he rambles, the more he talks dirty the closer you get to the edge. 

And you knew what this meant. You both finally have a chance to have children. Something you have always wanted when you first got together with Logan. Before meeting him, you never had high hopes to find a man and have a child or two. You were insecure and no one wanted a 26-year-old virgin omega. Especially since omegas were looked down upon back then.

But that time is over now, you're with the love of your life 70+ years into the future and everything you have ever wanted is here right now.

“God, do it, Logan, please knot me,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “Breed me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his sharp teeth sink into your skin, reclaiming you once again. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, loving and hating the sensation all at once. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“That’s it ‘mega. Doing so good for me. So perfect.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, have never felt as close to him as you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Logan binding stronger than ever and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating in thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him reclaiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands, your body doing the job it’s supposed to; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Logan,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Logan it kinda hurts.”

“Shhh It’s almost over, baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine let you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon-sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?” you frown slightly.

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his even more heightened senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his alpha side was telling him to do then so be it.

As Logan’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, all red, but could see the bond mark more visible than it was before. 

“Do you really think this will work?” you ask Logan. You don’t know what you will do with yourself if you aren’t able to get pregnant by this. “It will trust me, Darlin’. And if it doesn’t, we’ll try again and again until it does,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m so happy you’re mine after all these years.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks handsome as ever. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them as he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s reclaimed you and knotted you after all these years, but he is willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the blackness in his eyes now faded back to the hazel color you love so much. All the years and pain he’s been through, disappeared. 

“And I love that you’re mine.”

[plutoswritingplanet]

Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: guys... you can't tell me y'all weren't expecting this. Title from the song "Vicarious" by Tool. Really wanted this to be a one shot, but as usual, I have shit to say. Will be Cross-Posted on AO3 as soon as they open the site back up.

Warnings: Nothing Explicit YET, some sexist remarks and creepy behavior from the man of the hour, Questionable Corporate Ethics, Set Before The Events Of The Show, Reader is written to be Plus Size.

Summary: Sidekick projects have been scraped completely after numerous accidents, but as a viral video of your hero work makes rounds through the public, you're forced to take part in a six moths program, that will forever change your life, as well as Homelander's

PT.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

It all started with a video. An insignificant, minute-long nothing posted to TikTok by an account, that up until then, made short edits specifically of A-Train and some B-list no-name hero. Quickly, it gained traction, making rounds throughout the app, bleeding over to other services, all the way to national television. First, an independent local station, soon picked up by a Vaught-affiliated one. Normally, that's where it would've stayed. Stillwell would extend an offer of a chance at an interview, alongside one of the Seven. But for some unknown reason, that small piece of nothing climbed all the way up to the floor eighty-two of Vaught Tower.

Well, to be quite honest, Stillwell knew exactly why she was in this situation. After a very messy graduation speech at a small college, Homelander lost almost twenty points with a young adult demographic. It would've been an easy fix, if not for the delicate nature of the breached subject, and Madelyn knew, this sudden interest in a nobody from nowhere, who, coincidentally, fit the demographic perfectly, was anything but a happy accident. It was a test, both for Homelander, and for her.

Which is why, Madelyn Stillwell and Homelander, the Homelander, the most American supe to ever exist, are cooped up in your living room, glancing about the modest decor, as you pour iced tea into three glasses with tacky fruit print all over them.

You've refused every single invitation, every single Vaught representative that knocked on your door. Your inbox was flooded with emails, your phone number was blowing up two, three times a day. And yet, your answer remained the same. You were not interested in a collaboration, thank you for the opportunity, please leave me alone.

That wouldn't fly, not with Madelyn, who, pushed by the constant nagging from the upper levels of the Tower, decided a more direct approach was the right one. So, she dragged herself into this… Well, to be quite honest, bum-fuck-nowhere, and brought her star pupil with her. No one would refuse working with Homelander himself, after all. At least that's what they both thought.

-I appreciate the effort - there's a practiced, borderline bored intonation in your voice, and Homelander's hands flex on his thighs - But I've already talked with, um, Jerry? From HR? The answer is still no.

Your house is small, but cozy, with sunshine pouring through the windows, reflecting onto the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway to your kitchen. An artist's home, through and through. Homelander hates it, hates the ordinariness of it all. He was so much above all this, sitting on your worn down couch physically hurt him. And the smell. The smell was the worst part. Reheated lasagna, mixing with a lingering aftertaste of cigarette smoke, and an undercurrent of weed, that almost made him retch. If it weren't for that damned video, you would be nothing more, than another brainless ant under his boot.

-Well, we - Madelyn offers her best, brilliant smile, gesturing to herself and Homelander - are very passionate about discovering new talent.

Your mouth twitches into a knowing smile, and for just a second Homelander feels flames of intrigue rising in his chest. Not for long, though, because you recline back into an armchair, taking a sip of the iced tea, and his eyes flash to the way your throat moves as you swallow. You could be hot, he concludes. Young, and with a truly spectacular rack. But there was something off about you, like you were constantly on the verge of dying from boredom, some invisible weight always on your shoulders. No amount of fake smiles and high-end makeup could cover that up.

He'd fuck you. If you'd beg him.

-We want to offer you a new, revised contract - Stillwell extends her hand with a rather thick binder of papers, and you hesitate for a moment, before reaching over. - Hopefully, it will make you reconsider.

You don't even show them the decency of looking through it, placing it on the table instead, and Homelander feels an itch form itself in the corners of his eyes. Stillwell looks taken aback as well, her brilliant smile faltering for just a second. You on the other hand, take another sip of your drink, before placing it right in the middle of the contract, the moisture from the ice creating a wet circle in the paper.

Your heartbeat is even, it doesn't pick up even a smidgen, when you look between Stillwell and America's Greatest Hero, who is slowly but surely growing annoyed by your persistent indifference.

-Thank you, but I already said no - you repeat, and this time, Homelander shifts on the couch.

-And why not? - he asks, tension entering his voice in a way, that makes Madelyn squirm - Countless supes, with much more impressing powers than you, I might add, would kill to be in your place.

"To work with me" goes unsaid, but he can see in your eyes, you read it from thin air of superiority engulfing him. Annoyingly perceptive. You nod your head slowly, before turning away from them, looking out of the window of your living room. There's a small patch of grass, and a second house, so similar to yours, but at the same time, completely different. Your chin sticks out in its direction, and Homelander follows with his eyes.

There are paper butterflies stuck to the windows, cut out clumsily, most likely by children's hands.

-My neighbour, Missus Johnson - you explain - She lives there, with her three kids. Her husband died in a fire caused by your friend, Lamp Lighter.

Madelyn stills, Homelander raises an eyebrow.

-I can afford this house, only because my mother signed an NDA, after The Deep sank my father's fishing boat. - again, your heart stays completely unaffected - Accidentally, of course.

-I was not aware… - Madelyn starts, and it's hard to decipher whether she's talking to you, or Homelander.

Someone at the research department is going to have a very unpleasant evening.

-That's alright - you interrupt her with a raised hand and a small smile - This whole neighborhood is filled with similar cases. And I'm very, very attached to this place.

Why, Homelander couldn't tell. For all he knew, this was some shit hole, right in the suburbs outside New York. Not even the half decent ones. A forgotten by everyone, dying piece of land, that housed insignificant humans, who would never amount to anything, you included. He lived in a lavish apartment, inside a miracle of modern architecture. Who wouldn't want the same?

-And - there's something new entering your tone of voice - If I'm going to betray everything I stand for, I need to give something back to those people. Does your contract reflect that?

Madelyn bites the inside of her cheek, her scrutinizing gaze making your skin itch. Still, she sighs after a moment, excusing herself with that same, practiced expression she uses on every shareholder. Homelander follows her out, nodding his goodbye to you, but before he can leave this dump, Madelyn stops him with a hand pressed against his chest. She gives him one look, makes him aware that his job isn't over, and he can feel the muscles of his face twitch.

So, obediently, he lingers in your doorway, taking a few calming breaths, before facing you once more.

You've changed positions, your armchair abandoned in favor of sitting by the window, one leg bent in a way, that shows quite a nice view of your calf, your long skirt pooling around you. Homelander's eyes trail up with mild interest, and he indulges in his X-ray vision. He's just being curious, nothing more.

Your underwear is, well, for the lack of a better word, plain. The bra seems to be slightly ill fitted, digging into the sides of your breasts, making them almost spill from under your pits, and Homelander swallows thickly at the sight. There are little, pink hearts on your panties. The colors are dull and washed out from frequent use, and the once frilly lace is starting to fray at the edges.

Apparently Vaught's compensation was not sufficient for you to buy some decent undergarments.

-Do you want something to eat? Drink? - you ask from your place by the window, and Homelander is snatched back to reality - Do you even need food?

The bluntness of the question startles him, makes him feel defensive, but Madelyn wanted results, so he puts on a mask of his trained smile, and crosses the room. Back straight like an arrow, he looks wildly out of place between all the linens and cushions. He doesn't look at you, trapping your smaller form in the confinement of the window, as he watches over the neighboring house.

-I'm not hungry - he shoots down your offer with a wave of his hand - I've already eaten.

A lie, but he'd never stoop low enough to take any leftovers, especially from you. Still, the offer seems nice. He does like being pampered, even if it's with lackluster things. Your eyes linger on his boyish smile, another practiced thing, and Homelander shifts focus to your heartbeat once again.

-Alright then - your voice sounds indifferent as ever - Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to make some dinner for myself.

He offers a small nod, and watches you from his position by the window, as you slip past him. It does require quite a lot of manoeuvering, but you manage to stand without touching him. He has to admit, watching you balance, as you try to avoid him, was amusing. Still, your heart beats calmly, and, not wanting to be left on his own, Homelander follows you to your kitchen. The beads of the courtain drum delicately over the bronze eagles on his shoulders.

The fridge is buzzing something awful. He can see just how run down the inside mechanism is, the hinges squeaking unbearably, as you reach for a box of reheatable spaghetti. There's cheep beer inside, a moldy lemon, a carton of milk pretty close to expiring, and a half-used bottle of spicy ketchup. Homelander doesn't even recognize these brands, they're not sponsored by Vaught, that's for sure.

Cheap, tasteless, basically offering no nutritional value.

-Would you step back for a second? - he asks, already wrenching himself between you and that pathetic excuse of a meal.

Again, your body sways to avoid touching him, and for some unknown reason, he finds it very amusing.

Then, you watch with a raised eyebrow, as he turns towards your spaghetti, a red sheen overtaking his eyes. An unbearably hot beam shoots out, making the insides of the plastic packaging sizzle. Finally, that gets him a reaction, as you gasp and reel back, colliding with the barely functional fridge. Your heart does a flip inside your chest, and Homelander soaks up your shock like a man starved.

Only when the red fizzles out of his gaze do you dare to move, approaching him slowly, your eyes bearing into him in a way that is frankly uncomfortable.

He turns to you with another one of his charming smiles, trying to handle this sudden scrutiny in as flippant a way as possible.

-I had no idea you can control the intensity of your lazer - you admit, voice slightly breathless.

-Pretty neat, huh? - perhaps he's fishing for more attention, but he doesn't care, because your eyes light up for just a moment in sheer wonder.

-Super cool, actually.

Yeah. Yeah, that's fucking right, he is super cool. And your heart is beating so much faster, and finally you're looking at him as if he's more than just some guy, some living advertisement you're determined to ignore.

And then your eyes shift, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, as you zero in on his shoulder. Something akin to a wave of amusement flickers across your expression, and to his general surprise, Homelander wants to know what's the cause of this shift. Your lips pull back into a smile, teeth peaking at him in all their glory. He can almost imagine them running down his skin, before he pushes the thought back all together, as the lower portion of his suit becomes slightly too tight for comfort.

-Well, thank you for saving the spaghetti - your eyes hold a spark of amusement - My hero.

Okay, alright, he's hard. There's no point denying it. However annoying and insignificant you were moments before, your quip goes straight to his loins, burning enough, for him to consider just how mad Stillwell would be, if he'd have a taste of this newly discovered talent.

If he stands any closer to you, he might find out, because this special little moment you two have shared, is crudely interrupted by Madelyn clearing her throat. Homelander nearly jumps back, you however barely turn your head, reaching for your spaghetti and arming yourself with a fork.

-I've spoken to my supervisor - Stillwell announces, clearly peeved by the way you start chewing on the noodles - A new version of the contract will be emailed to you as soon as possible. Hopefully it will be satisfactory.

-Thank you, Miss Stillwell - you answer with an inclination of your head.

With that, Madelyn nods her goodbye at you, refusing to shake your hand, which does amuse you, you're not going to lie. Homelander however, goes all out, capturing your fork-weilding arm, his fingers sneaking around your wrist like a bracelet. Or a shackle. Then, you watch with a confused arch to your eyebrows, as he brings you closer, until his lips press onto the protruding knuckles. Now that, admittedly, gets your heart going. You were not an easily embarrassed person, not by a long shot, but you could feel blood rushing towards your face all the same.

He has to hold his breath, as he kisses your hand in that charming, gentleman way he's seen in old movies. The smell of pasteurized tomato sauce blows in his direction, like a direct assault on his senses. Still, he needed something that would make you swoon. If everything failed, he knew how to be intimidating, but for now, perhaps he wanted to try something different. Something that would yield much more pleasant results, for the both of you. Mostly for him, let's be honest.

Madelyn asks him to stay back, spy on you throughout the night, and he begrudgingly agrees, if only to mask the fact, that he would do so of his own volition, had she not brought it up. And as such, he floats into the rapidly cooling air, disappearing into the darkening sky, where you wouldn't be able to see him even if you tried. He could see you however, and hear you, and he was about to make the most of the situation.

He spends the whole evening just watching you exist within your space. Normally, it would piss him off beyond belief. You weren't doing anything scandalous, anything that could warrant his attention. And yet, as he floats on, in time lowering himself just slightly, to get a better view, he just can't seem to look away. The spaghetti is gone in approximately fifteen minutes, as you inhale the supermarket food, walking around the living room, the kitchen, getting a few bites on the porch even. You seem so utterly unfazed by the events of the past hour, like you haven't just had America's Greatest Superhero try to convince you to work with him. It's honestly insulting, this lack of reaction.

Then, finally, he can hear a distinct ping of a new email come from your laptop, and you sit down on the couch with a small huff. Your eyes move, your lips twitch, and then he hears your heart stop in your chest. As if working on autopilot, your hand travels up, covers your mouth in shock, and you lean back against the worn-down sofa, eyes glued to the screen illuminating your face in a blue-ish light.

-...fuck… - you whisper, and despite himself Homelander floats even closer to your window.

Finally, he has the chance to peak over the curtain. To sneak into the backstage of the award winning production of your defenses, and see what goes on in those bored eyes of yours, when they're not guarded. And what he sees makes his suit feel much too tight, his body too warm. Quite an unusual thing to get so worked up about, but he's the goddamned Homelander, he can get hard whenever he fucking wants. And so, as saliva gathers on his tongue, he presses himself against the tiles on your roof, all the warmth of the day soaking into his skin through the thick material of his suit.

With a shaky hand you reach over towards your phone, putting in a number and pressing the call button, before standing straight from the couch, almost knocking the laptop over.

-Hey, what's up? - someone says on the other end of the line, and Homelander tries to focus more on the words flowing from the receiver.

-Oh, you gotta sit down for that one - you warn with an anxious chuckle, taking the familiar place by the window.

With your free hand you reach up to open the window all the way. Then, Homelander sees your fingers slip between the pillows and pull out a rather beaten up pack of cigarettes.

Naughty, naughty, he thinks, watching you produce a lighter from that same hiding place.

-Alright, I'm sat like never before.

The voice sounds vaguely female, although the shitty quality of your phone makes it hard to decipher. Your lips pull back into a toothy grin, and you blow out the smoke through the window. It curls upwards and dissipates into the air, right above the roof, where Homelander swallows thickly around a coughing fit.

-You will not believe who visited me today…

-The ICE - the voice deadpans, and you snort around another huff of smoke.

-Pretty fucking close, let me tell you - he doesn't appreciate the joke, not at all - Fucking Homelander.

The line goes completely quiet for a moment, and with every second your grin seems to be growing.

-Deadass?

-Yup - your lips purse, and Homelander zeroes in on the expression - Flew in all Star's Spangled Glory with some Vaught big fish. They tried to convince me to join the Seven.

-And obviously you said yes, because what the fuck else do you do in that situation?

Your grin slowly fades away, and you lean your forehead on the window frame.

-You didn't?

-I didn't.

Again, it's quiet.

Homelander shifts a bit in his position, adjusting against the warmed up tiles of the roof, his X-ray vision bearing into you. Out of curiosity, he looks deeper, eyes floating over your insides. You're relatively healthy. Some vitamin deficiencies, but nothing too serious. And despite that nasty habit lodged between your fingers, your lungs are clear, at least for now. There's a softness to your body, your muscles barely visible, as if you're just another gray human. Oh, and there's a bit of an eyesight problem forming, not enough to warrant glasses, but that shouldn't take long, considering your lifestyle.

-The contract they gave me was really good, you know - you muse to the phone, your leg dangling from the windowsill - Six months of working under Homelander, a Sidekick kinda situation.

-I thought they scraped the Sidekick program - the person on the other side wonders - Too many casualties or something.

-Yeah, well I guess they want to bring it back.

-Why did you say no then? I'm sure they pay is gigantic.

Again, you smile. This one much more reserved, bordering on sad. There's that strange kind of exhaustion settling into your bones again, same one Homelander noticed when he first saw you. Your shoulders slump forward, and you curl into yourself between the cushions.

-It was, it was… - you mutter - But I needed something more, for the neighborhood, ya know?

Your caller hums softly in understanding, and Homelander feels like something is passing him by. Some unspoken fact, that you and your friend find obvious.

-And - you hesitate, eyes flickering towards the laptop, your heart beat picking up ever so slightly - They sent me a revised contract. And it's fucking good. Really fucking good. It could help this entire place get back on its feet.

-But you still don't want to - the voice says for you, without judgement.

-No - you sigh - I really, really don't.

-Say no then - your friend supplies, and once again Homelander feels a flame of annoyance start to burn within him - No one else knows about the contract, there will be no expectations.

Slowly, you nod your head, clearly relieved by the way your friend reacted to the news. Homelander however, caught you right where he needed you. That's your lever. Not seduction, not intimidation, just plain, stupidly human guilt.

-Thank you - you whisper into your phone, finally smiling again - Oh, wanna know one more thing?

-Obviously.

-Homelander's wearing a padded suit.

Something's stuck in his throat, as he reels back from his position. Before he can stop himself, his eyes begin to glow red, because how the fuck did you know?

-Okay, that's bullshit.

-Unless his shoulder dislocated in the middle of talking, then no, it's definitely not bullshit.

Your friend gives out a choked laugh, one which you mirror with your own. If Homelander wasn't so utterly flabbergasted by your (correct) observation, he would've stopped to appreciate the sound. As it stands, however, he pushes himself off your roof, a couple of broken pieces falling off of the tiles. And then he's up in the air, cutting through the winds, headed straight for the Tower, leaving you in the comfort of your insignificant, smelly home.

The contract is leaked before the sun is up.

You're awoken to thousands of news articles flooding your timeline, all listing the truly wonderful and selfless points in the fated email. With a white face, you read them all, the speculations, the theories, the angry comments about you being chosen without an actual casting, while all those up and coming supes are busting their asses in auditions.

Soon enough, you're visited by every neighbour possible, congratulating, thanking you. A barbecue is set in the street, as a way of celebration, and you want to throw your phone, and subsequently yourself into the nearest river.

Madelyn Stillwell sends you an email, scheduling a meeting at the Vaught Tower. No need for pleasantries at this point, you stare at the bare bones invitation. "We eagerly await the start of our partnership" looks back at you, mocking your resolve. And thus, the end of your life as you know it begins.

"Project Delinquent"

The words are printed in an ugly, corporate font, and they stare back at you, outlining the mold you're supposed to fit in, in such a perfect way, it actually, almost makes you retch. True, during high school you were quite the little rebel, but people grown and learn, and seeing your character be watered down to that simple word, does send a wave of nausea through your insides. Even if this is hell of your own making, even if you're ready to swallow it all down with a smile, there's a pang of humiliation stinging your heart.

The armchair in Stillwell's office is uncomfortably narrow. It barely has enough room to accommodate your hips, and you wonder if this design is intentional. There is a growing ache in your calves, as you sit so close to the edge, you can't fully relax into your position, balancing on your feet instead. The armrests dig into your sides, and the way the sun is shining through the gigantic windows of the office, is shaping this charade of a meeting into an overstimulating nightmare. Still, you endure. For all the wonderful benefits enclosed in your contract, the charity work Vaught is going to supply.

Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself, stuck between the marketing department representatives and a literal Devil of a woman.

Madelyn Stillwell doesn't know what to make out of you. Your files were filled with all sorts of questionable activity, especially around the college area. It's honestly a miracle you've managed to get your degree, and attend all those silly little demonstrations at the same time. Your criminal record has been wiped clean, weeks before you even agreed to sign the contract, just in case any leaks would find their way into the media. Leaks that were not orchestrated by Madelyn, of course.

High school rebellion was almost too easily marketable, Madelyn decided to focus on that part of your life as much as possible, her vision slowly coming to fruition. All she needed, really, was cooperation. And while you seemed to be mostly receptive to her ideas, she needed to make sure Homelander was on his best behavior. Which, well… Could go sideways in the worst way imaginable, but Stillwell tried to have some faith in her best superhero.

The idea of releasing details of your contract to the public, was a stroke of genius, she did not expect from Homelander, and she made sure he was thoroughly rewarded. With him, it was always better to choose the hands-on approach, unfortunately. With you, however, ideals were the key. Whatever feeling of solidarity you harbored towards your neighborhood, provided a leverage relatively easy to control. Still, as Stillwell looked you over, crammed into her office in your, frankly, lousy attire, she couldn't help but be just a tad worried about your compliance.

-…And then - the marketer continues with a dramatic gasp - Homelander comes in. America's Greatest Hero, offers you a mentorship. And you…

You look up at the representative with a rather sour expression. They have to work on that too. Media training was crucial. You won't be able to sell anything, if you keep grimacing like that all the damned day.

-… Are starstruck - your mouth twitches - You strike up a deal, selfless. A rebel with a heart of gold. Finally, you can make some real change happen, so you push aside your anti-corporate values, to discover, that Vaught is so much more, than you could possibly imagine.

It's hard not to laugh, and you swallow thickly, biting your lip, as a middle-aged woman you don't recognize gets up from the couch, and makes her way to the wall opposite of your torture chair. There, tucked in a corner and hidden under a black cloth, stands a mannequin, roughly your size. With a flourish you find utterly out of place, the woman tugs at the cape, and as it falls to the floor, so does your stomach. You can't hold it in any longer. A rough snort of laughter rips out of your nose, and you cover your mouth instantly.

-That better be a laugh of delight - Ashley, a ginger menace, mutters under her breath, and Stillwell turns to you with a tight expression on her face.

-Something the matter?

-I mean - you take a deep, grounding breath, tying your amusement in the back of your throat - I knew it's going to be skimpy, but this is…

You look around the room, seeing various stages of corporate outrage, and then you lock eyes with Homelander. Stillwell insisted on his participation in the meeting, as the both of you are supposed to work closely together, and throughout the whole ordeal, he looked borderline ready to die of boredom. Now, however, his eyebrows lift in a curious manner, as he takes in the, to be completely honest, horrendous costume, and your full figure. Something dangerously close to disgust twists your features, as he shamelessly drags his eyes all over your body.

Who would've thought America's Sweetheart was a fucking creep?

Rolling your eyes, you get up from the cursed armchair, your knees cracking loudly. Crossing the room, you take a closer look at the clothing, or rather, lack there of. Torn fishnets, plaid tennis skirt, and a corset top, made out of some leather-like material. Truly, a fetishists wet dream. Your fingers sample the fabric of the skirt. Surprisingly stiff, it seems to beg for a wardrobe malfunction. With a frown pulling down your lips, you lift the material up, and as expected, find no safety shorts underneath.

Homelander watches you intently, as you inspect the costume. Just the thought of your soft body in this skimpy, corporate bastardization of a rock star, makes heat rise in the lower part of his stomach. With every disapproving pull of your, and don't quote him on that, perfect lips, he's more and more convinced this whole charade is just an early birthday present. He'll have to thank Stillwell. Or better not, because as soon as he throws her a sidelong glance, he discovers, she's already looking at him. With a rather tense expression at that.

He feigns innocence, almost raises his hands in mock defeat, but decides against it at the last second. You're still watching him, torn between inspecting the costume, and shooting disgruntled looks in his direction.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, your hand sneaks to the front of the corset, fingers closing over the full cup, where your breast will soon reside. You give the mock leather two squeezes, and a high-pitched laugh wheezes out of your lips. Homelander's head nearly snaps with how fast he turns to look at Stillwell, confusion clear on his face.

She's looking at you cautiously. He knows that expression all too well, he's seen it multiple times during their partnership. She's calculating, with bated breath, just how much of a problem you'll inevitably become. How to turn it around in the company's favor, how to steer you in the right direction, should the need arise.

But then, you clap your hands, still giggling quietly, and turn to the designer, who's been watching your reaction with a growing distaste.

-That's one hell of a push-up bra - you comment with a raised eyebrow - My tits will fly straight out of this, if I even think about moving my arms.

Now, that's something Homelander would love to see, and you note his leering face with an uncomfortable shift in your posture.

-Your physique has to be god-like. There's no shame in a little padding - the designer answers simply, and your eyes glimmer with amusement.

-Oh, I bet - your eyes float for just a second in Homelander's direction, and he wonders if lasering you down right now would be too harsh of a reaction.

The image had to be kept up, however, and he deflects your blatant provocation with a bright smile. Or rather, it would've been a bright smile, if his cheek didn't twitch in a way, that portrayed exactly how forced his pleasantries are.

-There will be a press conference, seven PM sharp, where you'll be introduced to the public - Ashley informs you, her eyes glued to her tablet - Homelander will give a welcoming speech, explain that you're a temporary member of The Seven. Then, you'll need to say a couple of words. We'll send you the talking points ASAP.

-Right… - you mutter, not particularly thrilled by the idea of public speaking.

Stillwell looks over her shoulder towards Homelander, giving him an expectant, raised eyebrow. Slowly, he moves from his spot by the window, hand extended in a greeting, teeth flashing in a smile. Your eyes involuntarily shift towards his rather sharp canines, and for the first time, since you've signed the contract, you truly feel uneasy. His eyes are almost unnaturally blue, a perfect, American shade, that glimmers just a tad too dangerously. There's no need for super senses, he can feel your nerves in the very air you breathe.

-Welcome to The Seven - his voice is smoother than you've ever heard before - Fireball.

Wait a god-damned minute.

Confusion covers all previous feelings, and to Homelander's growing annoyance, you leave him with his hand extended, in favor of turning towards Stillwell.

-That's not my name - you point out, and Madelyn nods her head in a practiced expression of understanding.

-Due to some copyright intricacies, we can't let you use Smirnoff - she explains.

You suck in a deep breath through your teeth, looking back towards the costume. A moment's hesitation, you close your eyes as you breathe out, and once again Homelander feels as if he's able to peak under a carnival mask you carefully placed upon yourself. He lifts it just enough, sees the way muscles on your neck twitch. Your jaw sets in a way, that is slowly becoming intoxicating, and then you turn back to him.

-I'm honored - your voice is hollow, locked far away in the column of your throat, and you don't have enough strength to even attempt a smile.

That's alright, he has enough charm for the both of you, his imposing stature pushing towards you, as his arm sneaks around your shoulders.

Fuck, you're warm. He can feel the heat of your skin seeping into his costume. There's a vaguely familiar smell clinging to your form, mixing with the scent of cigarette smoke. Jasmine flowers, he concludes, and absent-mindedly remembers a rather large bush growing in your backyard. He wonders, if you'd let him fuck you, if he showed up with a bouquet at your door. Women seemed to like those, and although you didn't strike him as the most romantic person, he's positive he could charm his way into your pants.

-I'll show you to your room, sweetheart - perhaps he's laying it on a bit heavy with the nickname.

He can hear Stillwell's heart jump, and he immediately knows, he's going to have to sit through a stern talk later today. You, on the other hand, wrench your head to the side, disgruntled with this new form of familiarity. Your entire body goes tense, and you try to wriggle yourself further away from him. On instinct, his fingers dig into your shoulder, a mockery of a friendly expression, and with just a small fragment of his true strength, he pushes you forward, out of Stillwell's office.

He can do whatever he wants, and Madelyn is getting awfully pushy with guarding you from him. You're just a temporary toy to satisfy the higher-ups. A six months worth of an experiment, that he's forced to be a part of. After your contract is up, Vaught won't care whether you live or die, and you bet your rather ample ass, he's going to exploit that to the fullest. Not only is it borderline insulting, to deny him life's simple pleasures, it's pathetic.

-Nervous about the press? - he asks in a light tone, his jaw clicking softly, when your slide out of his grasp as soon as the doors close.

The casualness of this question throws you in a bit of a loop, but with a couple of rapid blinks, you're back to normal, letting him lead you towards the elevator.

-Public speaking isn't my best asset - you mumble.

Homelander presses the call button of the elevator, then leans against the wall, watching you with a strange twinkle in his eye.

-Sounds like someone's not a people person - he notes, wiggling his finger at you in a manner that is confusingly playful.

-I am a people person - you defend yourself, albeit a bit awkwardly - Just… Not when there's a lot of people.

He laughs at that, a practiced, almost theatrical bark that's as fake as his hairdo. All you have the strength to do, is flash him half of a smile. Thankfully the elevator pings before any more small-talk is required, and you slip into the confined space, standing in the corner. His eyes roam freely all over your body, a shameless act that makes your guts twist, makes the already small space of the elevator even more stuffy. And then, he enters after you, pressing a button to the right floor, and taking a spot much too close to you, than what's necessary.

You suppose it's one of the things you'll have to get used to. This constant invasion of your personal space. Perhaps, if it were someone else, someone that wasn't as empty as you, those actions would've been more intimidating than annoying. Alas, as you watch his chest rise and fall in steady rythm, out of the corner of your eye, his actions remind you of a petulant, spoiled child, rather than America's Greatest Hero. "I can't play with this toy? And what if I do this?" For just a second you entertain the idea of gentle parenting Homelander, and the thought makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

-Something the matter? - he asks, tension sneaking into his friendly tone.

-Just happy to be here, sir - you answer, and he knows it's a blatant lie, another one of your snarky provocations.

Doesn't matter for now, there will be a time to teach you some manners.

The elevator arrives at the right floor, and you bolt out of your place as soon as the doors slip open. Homelander follows closely behind, before closing the distance in a couple of long steps. Then, he's in front of you, and you nearly collide with his form, as he suddenly comes to a stop, in front of a pair of large doors. "Fireball" is etched into a small plack, and you throw the offending piece of metal a withering glance.

-That's your stop, sweetheart - he comments, and once again, you grimace at the nickname - Take a look inside, I'm sure it will blow your socks right off.

Why is he talking to you like you're a fucking child all of a sudden, you'll never understand. The door clicks softly, as you open it, revealing your living space for the next six months. The sight chokes a laugh out of you, because truly, the ammount of "punk" memorabilia is staggering.

-Does cocaine addiction come with the package, or…?

He doesn't even react to your joke, and you don't blame him. For all his creepiness and fake interest, he doesn't strike you as the funniest person on earth. There are guitars hanging over a rather large bed, there's a pristine stop sign next to them, which you suppose is meant to look rebellious. The usage of leopard print is tacky at best, and you truly start to wonder if they even consulted someone out of the corporation to design the space. Most likely no, wouldn't want to waste resources on such a small project.

-Fireball - Homelander's voice is barely above a whisper, but it makes your heart jump all the same.

He's standing so closely behind you, you can feel the warmth of his breath at the back of your neck, but for some unnknown reason, you can't force yourself to move. Instead, you feel him take a deep breath trough his nose, his chest brushing against your back. Your eyes stay glued to a drum set, pushed against a gigantic window. Light reflects off of the cymbals, in your mind you're already playing it, far away from this nightmare of a superhero.

-I'll see you at the press conference - Homelander's hand clasps itself over your shoulder, squeezing a couple of times, as if testing the softness of your body - Don't even think about being late, young lady.

You don't know when he dissapears, as you stand there, frozen. One foot over the threshold of your room, breathing shallow and borderline panicked. It could've been seconds, could've been hours, until your head finally snaps to the side. He's not there anymore, you're alone in the corridor, and as you slam the door closed behind you, something you've only suspected before becomes abundantly clear.

There is something deeply wrong with Homelander.

[ghost-recs]

can we get some bakugou recs 😊😊 (written and smaus pleaseee)

hello hellooo! oh man do i ever have some! you have no idea the can of worms you are opening my friend.

but first i am so sorry for how late this rec is! i wanted to get this done days ago, but the semester has been crazy packed. i'm going to get through all my asks one by one. thank you for your patience! anyways let's get into this !!

Bakugou Recs

Garden of Lungs (Hanahaki) by oweCrew [ao3]

synopsis: you have your whole life ahead of you, a promising future and jobs lined up after UA...but these stupid flowers are going to be the death of you, literally.

i flew through this fic so fast. it was the first time i had every heard of hanahaki disease and oof to my heart. i loved it!

Late Night Calls by fictionpls [ao3]

synopsis: much to bakugou's disdain, you skipped your meals again. tch, he's basically taking care of you at this point.

cute lil fluff oneshot with bakugou as your best friend...maybe more.

Nothing More, Nothing Less by @dekustowel

synopsis: bakugou made a big whoopsies. the only way to get out of it? fake date you, the internet's sweatheart, duh!

this smau idea has a hold on me. i'm a sucker for the fake dating trope. and i mean seriously, it's bakugou! [ongoing...]

Nerd (Affectionately) by @oniku-niku

synopsis: you're in love with bakugou, have been since you were kids. there was no use in hiding the truth. but did he have to be so rude about it??

most of this smau is a big ouch to the heart. but the drama gets heavier as the story goes on and i'm here for it! happy soft ending! :)

Speak by Kikyo851 [ao3]

synopsis: you could not believe that your soulmate was such a crude and violent person...just to spite the universe and him you decide not to say a word to your "soulmate."

soulmate au in which the first words that your soulmate says to you is written on your wrist. this fulfilled my needs of a bakugou soulmate au! so cute and it is complete!

Of Snowscapes & Explosions by sugarbun [ao3]

synopsis: you've been categorized as second to shoto todoroki ever since grade school. after a frustrated vent to bakugou and a few of his cracks revealing some of his own frustrations you realize that maybe you and him aren't so different after all.

guys....when i tell you this fic is the slowest slow burn. i feel like it's so accurate to how bakugou would actually fall for someone. sadly, this fic is unfished tho and hasn't been updated in a couple years😭 but you should read it anyways.

cover shot (through the heart) by @andypantsx3

cross posted on ao3 here! cover shot (through the heart) by andypantsx3

synopsis: you're the only one who can deal with bakugou's attitude in the industry. he hasn't found something that bothers you...until he starts flirting with you, hello??

model/celebrity au. super cute fic. i'm warning you this is much spicier than some of my other recs. mdni. (also check out this author's other works. they have a lot of top tier content!!)

Motherly Love by @kweenkatsuki-fics

synopsis: bakugou gives his mom a late night call to thank her. the reason why softens her heart greatly.

super soft lil drabble that just about brings me to tears everytime i read it. in love with bakugou fr.

déjà vu by @cashmoneyyysstuff

synopsis: bakugou thinks back to some oddly familiar memories with you. and one thing always stays the same, you both are together.

oneshot the made my jaw drop. hit me hard in the feels.

untitled oneshot by @honeypirate

synopsis: being paired with your number 1 enemy for a group project proved that the universe hated you. well might as well have some fun with this and make bakugou's life just as miserable.

college au oneshot. i am always down for a good enemies to lovers trope!

risky by @kusaka6e

synopsis: moving from another country to work as a pro hero in japan was not the easiest. and a certain hot headed hero only adds to your frustrations.

oneshot about the obvious grown tension between you and pro hero dynamite.

i hope you find something you like! sorry for the late rec, have a lovely day/night!

[lunamugetsu]

House Husband Danny

(Remember this post I made: Danny is a househusband. Well I decided to make it into a story) Crossposted from AO3. Here's a link

Location: Unknown, Date: Unknown

Three figures emerged from a glowing pit of green water, gasping for air as they dragged themselves out.

A man with dark skin was breathing heavily and went to shake the pale man with dark hair that was still unconscious. He paused as another hand was raised motioning for him to stop. He looked over at the women with long black hair.

“He’s tired, let him rest.” She said

“What are we going to do?” the woman merely smiled as she turned to fix the damp hair that was covering the unconscious man’s face.

“Simple… Danny will rest and heal…and we will live like the rulers we are.” She turned to look at her other partner.

“Yes… we will,” he confirmed as they both smiled while looking at their love.

Present Day

Danny hummed as he put away the newly washed dishes from dinner.

Ah, how nice it was to be in a home where the food didn’t come alive and try to declare war on him.

One less thing to worry about.

Now that dinner was eaten and leftovers were put away. He could focus on the package that came in the mail, he had been waiting for it for weeks.

Tucker and Sam had called ahead to say that they were working late.

What a shame.

Danny sat down in the living room and turned on the tv while cracking open the package.

“This is Lois Lane reporting for the Daily Planet! Breaking news as the Justice League members Superman and Wonder Woman are fighting off villains in Metropolis! They have been identified as the new villains: Upload and Nightshade. They made their first appearance known to the world a couple months ago- JIMMY LOOK OUT!”

The camera shook for a moment before stabilizing showing Superman was holding onto Lois Lane and Wonder Woman was holding onto the cameraman.

“It’s not safe here, please evacuate to a safer area.” Superman said before speeding off with Wonder Woman following close behind.

“Jimmy get a shot! That’s Nightshade!” the reporter said pointing to a large plant-like monster made of vines and thorns that was the size of a skyscraper. The cameraman zoomed in on the figure that was currently sitting on the monster’s shoulder. A woman with long black hair that appeared as if it was almost floating in an ethereal manner. She was a pale woman wearing a black skintight bodysuit with matching thigh high boots, black bandages were wrapped around her forearms while her hands lit up with a neon green energy along with her eyes. Nightshade smiled, turning to look straight into the direction of the camera before saying some words that the camera couldn’t pick up before humongous vines started filling up the camera’s screen, the sound of screaming could be heard before the feed was cut.

“That doesn’t look good,” Danny commented before turning back to the open package.

Ooh, that fabric did feel as soft as it was advertised! He better try it on to see it fit. He knew he checked the measurements before placing the order but still, mistakes always happened. He was also still a little hungry, perhaps some fruit from the fridge would be good.

It was a couple of minutes before the for the news to come back on. Danny sat down on the couch, sporting a plate of fruit with a side of whipped cream to dip it in. He plopped one into his mouth as the tv started airing the news again.

The camera lens managed to stay undamaged as the camera man and the reporter were taking cover behind the corner of a building focusing on the figure that was currently standing in front of a fallen Superman that was grimacing as the green light from the glowing rock in the figure’s gloved hand seemed to intensify. It also didn’t help that there appeared to be a set of special cuffs that were encasing the superheroes hands, forcing them together.

“And here I was thinking that defeating you couldn’t be that easy… well then again. Can’t expect a superhero to just not react to their greatest weakness. Kryptonite wasn’t really hard to track down who had a stash of these, it was even easier to take it. ” The figure was a man with dark skin with long dreadlocks and was wearing a visor that covered hi eyes from view. He wore a long coat with short sleeves letting people see the robotic gloves that went up all the way up his arms. The camera picked up a hum emanating from the robotic arms and crack of electricity.

“Why? Why are you doing this, Upload?” Superman said as he made to force himself to stand despite his bound hands.

“Hmm, wealth, fame, power, pettiness, destroying all the buildings I want without needing to pay for it, or maybe I just don’t like people who call themselves heroes,” Upload said as he moved to the side as Wonder Woman was thrown into a building.

“Truly, I thought they’d give more of a challenge,” Nightshade commented as the plant-monster then slammed a hand down onto Wonder Woman encasing the superhero in vines  making it practically impossible for the woman to rip out of.

Danny hummed as he looked at the news.

He should probably help… he stuck a strawberry into his mouth.

“How do you think we should do this, Nightshade? Slowly and methodical, or fast and exciting?” Upload turned to look at Nightshade.

“Obviously, something with mo-“

RING! RING! RING!

The two supervillains looked towards each other. Upload taking out a phone from his pocket while Nightshade motioned for the plant monster to give her, her bag so she could take out her phone.

“Hello/Hello.” Thy said answering their phone in unison.

“You’re hungry?” Nightshade asked.

“We did say we were working late, you’re welcome to eat out if you want- huh? I mean, what are you wearing?” Upload said

The two paused and looked at each other.

“The thing you ordered a couple weeks ago?” Upload said, “the red one?”

“That’s made with silk?” Nightshade hands were clenching down onto her phone.

“And you’re eating,” Upload looked over at Nightshade.

“Strawberries and whipped cream,” She said.

Ding! Ding!

The two turned to their phone at having received a message. The villains looked at their phone  and then to each other.

“We’ll be there in ten!” they said in unison before putting away their phones.

It happened quickly.

With a wave her hand, all of the plants started retreating back away from the superheroes while saying some words that the camera couldn ’t pick up and a portal opened right next to her.

Meanwhile Upload placed the kryptonite into a contain while hitting some buttons that were on his gloves and the cuffs that were on Superman unlocked and fell off the man ’s wrists.

Nightshade motioned for the now human-sized plant monster to walk through the portal while Upload was walking up to her.

“Wait! Where do you think you’re goin-” Wonder Woman and Superman held their ears as a loud sound echoed out a tool that Upload threw on the ground.

“Oh no! How dare you heroes foil our evil plan!” Nightshade said in a dead tone before grabbing Upload by his collar, “c’mon we gotta go!”

The two ran into the portal, disappearing out of sight, leaving nothing but the aftermath of the destruction of the fight they had with the two heroes.

“I’m sorry, what the heck just happened?!” Lois Lane said, turning to look at the camera.

Danny hummed as he turned off the tv and took his plate of food with him as he got off the couch.

He needed to get upstairs, after all, Sam and Tucker weren’t going to be working late after all.

The man sat himself into the master bedroom, it had a bed that was an Alaskan King size. Largest size of bed they could find, could easily fit a whole family of four on it. He didn’t even know beds came in that size.

Danny continued humming as he settled himself down in the middle of the bed. The sheets were made of Egyptian cotton. Ethically sourced, of course. Sam wouldn’t stand sleeping on something that was made by a company that destroyed the environment while simultaneously overworking and underpaying their employees. Tucker had come to the rescue, buying a set of sheets on his last trip from Egypt. They had to custom order it especially since their bed didn’t fit the common dimensions that mass production usually went by.

But he wasn’t complaining, the bed was really… nice.

He laid back against the pillows, wearing nothing but the little red number that came in the mail that day.

He dipped a strawberry into the whipped cream and took a bite out of it. Giving a hum as he enjoyed the taste. It was so nice not to have to worry about anything. No ghosts trying to kill him, no government agency trying to track him down to vivisect and kill him, no parents trying to shoot, vivisect, and kill him- Danny wondered if that was a normal amount of people to have to want to kill him.

Whatever, it didn’t matter anymore.

He smiled as he heard the sound of the front door being slammed open and shut followed by a furious pattering sound of feet going up the stairs. He hoped they’d taken their shoes off when they got in. He just vacuumed the house that afternoon.

The door to the bedroom opened with a bang as he saw Sam and Tucker, wearing their civilian clothing that they had clearly just thrown on with no thought of whether or not they should straighten out any of the clothes or at least to check if they put on their shirt inside out. It was a rule though, never bring work home, it always brought trouble. They had enough trouble dealing with ghosts to last a lifetime, let alone the afterlife.

“I’m hungry,” Danny said while taking  a bite of a strawberry and licking off cream that caught on his lip. He could see them already looking at his mouth and trailing their eyes across the new article of clothing he was wearing.. The man curled his finger to motion for them to come closer.

“Come and feed me.” He smiled as his partners joined him in bed.

Ah, it was so nice when his partners didn’t work late nights.

[woahjo]

The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings:  fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else. 

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost. 

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment. 

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire. 

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear. 

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters. 

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell. 

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse. 

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent. 

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight. 

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula." 

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these. 

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity. 

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent. 

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands. 

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed." 

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs. 

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him. 

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you. 

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?" 

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit." 

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane. 

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid." 

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess." 

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now. 

"Got a name?" he asks. 

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?” 

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling. 

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?" 

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat. 

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am." 

He nods his understanding. 

"Come with me." 

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both. 

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed." 

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost. 

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?" 

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising. 

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to." 

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?" 

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase. 

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it. 

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step. 

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees. 

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you. 

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation? 

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!" 

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room. 

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him. 

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned." 

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost. 

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while." 

"Well, I'm back," he says. 

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word. 

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?" 

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check." 

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.” 

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?" 

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?" 

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone." 

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell? 

"Sounds like a good deal," you say. 

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock. 

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki. 

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..." 

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him. 

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you. 

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.” 

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting. 

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't." 

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation. 

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?" 

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day." 

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen. 

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this." 

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it. 

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can." 

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months. 

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up. 

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit. 

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks. 

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words. 

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.” 

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together. 

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.” 

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.” 

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away. 

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”  

You nod. 

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.” 

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric. 

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet. 

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks. 

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them. 

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant. 

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing. 

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge. 

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring. 

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark. 

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back. 

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit. 

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway. 

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment. 

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now. 

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner. 

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner. 

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?” 

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.” 

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.” 

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group. 

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows. 

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.” 

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.” 

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina. 

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.” 

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning. 

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues. 

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.” 

“Mhm,” Mina says. 

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.” 

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.” 

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy. 

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.” 

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri. 

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever. 

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.” 

You swallow thick and nod a little. 

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.” 

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree. 

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from. 

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink. 

“Nothing really,” Mina says. 

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly. 

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?” 

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask. 

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?” 

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides. 

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.” 

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.” 

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude. 

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?” 

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond. 

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.” 

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting. 

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.” 

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds. 

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.” 

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in. 

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us. 

— 

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation. 

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop. 

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it. 

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough. 

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago. 

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize. 

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.” 

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.” 

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.” 

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?” 

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.” 

You recognize Katsuki’s voice. 

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.” 

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman. 

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.” 

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays. 

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?” 

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto. 

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?” 

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding. 

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.” 

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice. 

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.” 

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg. 

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit. 

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.” 

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find. 

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts. 

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod. 

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look. 

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.” 

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen. 

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop. 

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.” 

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you. 

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.” 

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes. 

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary. 

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant. 

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.” 

You listen as you eat your crackers. 

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.” 

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat. 

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.” 

Mina laughs a little. 

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.” 

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile. 

“You’re really forthcoming with information.” 

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers. 

“Can you blame me?” 

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked. 

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.” 

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you. 

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop. 

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder. 

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down. 

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl. 

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it. 

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula. 

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper. 

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.” 

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely. 

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering. 

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners. 

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at. 

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now. 

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly. 

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask. 

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from. 

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back. 

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it. 

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it. 

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from. 

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it. 

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him. 

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up. 

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones. 

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward. 

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind. 

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks. 

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.” 

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion. 

“Got everything?” 

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it. 

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers. 

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread. 

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well. 

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out. 

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe. 

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way. 

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk. 

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation. 

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says. 

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?” 

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?” 

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again. 

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something. 

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?” 

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm. 

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world. 

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.” 

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way. 

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.” 

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb. 

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days. 

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any. 

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it. 

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be. 

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source. 

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet. 

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.” 

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice. 

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.” 

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.” 

The group grows quiet for a moment. 

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group. 

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”  

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.” 

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says. 

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?” 

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.  

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.” 

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?” 

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?” 

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.” 

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?” 

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.” 

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds. 

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control. 

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it. 

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect? 

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open. 

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house. 

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place. 

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal. 

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling. 

—

“Need some help?” You say. 

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck. 

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?” 

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him. 

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably. 

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?” 

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.” 

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work. 

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly. 

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch. 

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively. 

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.” 

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.” 

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?” 

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others. 

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.” 

You tilt your head. 

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?” 

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is. 

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.” 

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little. 

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-” 

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.” 

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side. 

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun. 

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable. 

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that. 

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character. 

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow. 

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task. 

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket. 

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.” 

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him. 

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out. 

“You’re doing laundry.” 

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.” 

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.” 

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face. 

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit. 

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.” 

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive. 

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick. 

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering. 

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence. 

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace. 

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. 

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.” 

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid. 

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond. 

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little. 

“Were you?” 

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.” 

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway. 

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh. 

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?” 

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?” 

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.” 

“She’s pretty,” you say. 

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.” 

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you. 

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little. 

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant. 

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?” 

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused. 

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little. 

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry. 

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.” 

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food. 

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him. 

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into. 

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you. 

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both. 

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position. 

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet. 

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.” 

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope. 

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.” 

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes. 

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier. 

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house. 

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel. 

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better. 

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator. 

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?” 

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in. 

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

[vettelsvee]

YOU'RE JALEOUS | Charles Leclerc

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

charles leclerc x reader

summary: charles gets jaleous of lando when he sees him talking with his girlfriend 

wordcount: 1529

a/n: it's been a long time coming but i'm finally here! i've actually had this saved on my drafts for quite a long time BUT never posted it. however, since we got charles pole today, i thought you might like this even tough is a crap (i'm so sorry, you absolutely deserve better works) :)

you can send your one shots requests here or via anon! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

Charles and you decided to attend a party they had been invited by someone the driver didn’t even know, that took place at one of the most famous venues in Monaco. Although you initially felt intimidated because none of Leclerc's colleagues had appeared yet, as you drank a few drinks, the music seemed interesting enough for you to dance along with the twinkling lights.

To say that Leclerc was happy with his performance on the track that afternoon would be a li. His pride was immense because he had finally achieved the victory: winning not only for the first time in 2024 season, but also winning his very own home race for the first time ever. This had led to great acclaim not only from his fans but also from specialists, the press, the team, and even his colleagues, who were eagerly awaiting il predestinato's return to the victories.

In those moments, with his shiny black suit highlighting his appearance and, especially, his trained body, he felt unique, and even more so with you by his side. You were matching your partner perfectly with the dazzling dress you were wearing and that fit you perfectly.

As you enjoyed a drink in a quiet corner after a long time on the dance floor, Leclerc wrapped his arm around your waist, intending to bring you closer to his side. Your eyes met, somewhat mischievous, leading to a playful smile forming on your lips.

"Charles, you’ve been incredible in today's race," you exclaimed with excitement, proudly praising your boyfriend's talent. "I'm so proud of you."

Charles returned your smile, feeling filled with joy by your unconditional support.

"Thank you, darling. But what I'm proud of, and also lucky for, is having you in my life," he responded tenderly.

You continued chatting animatedly without an apparent topic of conversation, ranging from what would be your next holiday destination to the upcoming race, which would take place in Canada. However, when you started talking about a charity event that Charles would have the opportunity to lead, your gazes turned to a familiar figure approaching you: Lando Norris.

"Hey, Charles! Congratulations on that first place!" Norris exclaimed, excited to see his friend.

"Thanks, Lando!" the mentioned replied enthusiastically, patting the McLaren driver on the back. "You did great too. A sixth place is not what I expected from those cars, but it was truly impressive taking into account the strategy they had for you."

"Stop talking about McLaren when you know we can talk about Ferrari," Norris joked.

You observed the interaction between the two drivers with a mix of pride and curiosity. At first, you decide to give space to both guys, letting them freely discuss the day's events without the attentive gaze of a girl. However, when you finished checking your social media and posted a few Instagram stories with photos you took that morning, you decided to join the conversation.

"Lando, have you forgotten about me?" you teased. "I'm still in shock from today's race. It was a real spectacle."

"Thanks, Y/N!" He stopped looking at you and instead turned to his friend. "What do you think if we celebrate our incredible, but true, achievements together now? No one else is coming, and I talked to Carlos earlier!"

You looked at Charles, seeking his approval. He, a bit tipsy, nodded with a smile.

"I had other plans in mind but I think we can actually postpone them. Right, Y/N?"

With such a declaration, you three headed to the dance floor, not without first ordering something to drink to accompany you in your enjoyment full of laughter, excitement and dance moves that were surely the ones from someone who’s had enough drinks for a day.

As you moved to the rhythm of the music, Charles noticed you stepping away from his side to join some members of the Ferrari team. He decided to follow you, ready to talk to his coworkers. To his surprise, you were chatting animatedly, in the midst of the crowd, with Lando, who had excused himself to go to the bathroom minutes before.

Jealousy and anger coursed through his body in a shiver. The Monegasque felt an urgent need to intervene and mark his territory. As much as he knew you didn't depend on him, and you were both completely independent individuals sometimes, moments like this were the ones where he felt a hint of insecurity about those who, apparently, dared, even minimally, to intrude on your relationship.

Forgetting his discretion and good judgment, Charles rushed towards you and the Brit, his eyes filled with determination and a threatening look on his face, ignoring the insults he had received from those drunkards he had punched.

"What's going on here?" he demanded to know in an authoritative and tense tone.

You and Lando turned, surprised, at Charles's intrusion. You looked at him, confused by the jealousy in your boyfriend's face. You were simply discussing with Norris the idea for a special party in Monaco the following week, just before the next Gran Prix, in honor of Charles’ recent victory.

"Love, you're misinterpreting things," you said, trying to stay calm. "We were just talking as friends," you emphasized the last word.

Leclerc clenched his fists in an attempt to control his anger.

"I don't want you to keep talking to him," he communicated harshly, surprising you greatly.

Lando intervened, trying to alleviate the tension and, especially, to calm his friend's apparent sadness:

"Dude, you have no reason to make a scene in front of everyone over an insignificant bout of jealousy. We're just having a friendly conversation about something for next week, okay?"

Leclerc's expression became even tenser, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed the symbiosis that you, his girlfriend, and Lando, his friend and opponent, seemed to have in hiding something.

"I wouldn't want to ask you again, so... What were you talking about?" Charles inquired in an even sharper tone.

Feeling you boyfriend's murderous gaze, you tried your best not to burst into tears over something as stupid as Charles's insecurity.

"Seriously, believe us," Lando spoke, trying to calm the brunette down. "You have to trust us, we were just talking about something we came up for next week just before Canada!"

The Ferrari driver tried to control his anger, if it was still possible. Meanwhile, he took his time to look at you with, once again, a mix of anger and disappointment, mainly for not answering him.

"And you, why don't you answer me? Are you only interested in him now?"

You looked at him surprised by such a comment, and tried to explain quickly:

"I'll repeat it again, honey: we were just having a friendly conversation! Lando is my friend and your rival, friend, or whatever you want to say it, but there's nothing more to it!"

Out of nowhere, Charles gently took you by the wrist and led you to a place where you could talk quietly. The green-eyed, despite having a bit more alcohol in his system than he should, knew he messed up and needed to fix it somehow.

"Y/N, please be honest: what were you talking about?" Leclerc asked with a concerned expression on his face for the scene he had caused.

"About what we could do in Monaco, here, next week, alright?" you responded, trying to reassure him. "You don't have to worry about anything"

"But why are you talking to him about racing?" the Monegasque insisted again, trying to calm his tone of jealousy. "I don't understand why you have to make plans with other drivers when you're my girlfriend."

"Charles, come on, don't be jealous!" you scolded with a playful smile. "Besides, what we were planning was a surprise party in your honor because, in case you don't remember, you just won your first home race ever. I don't think that's anything bad."

Charles felt really stupid at that moment.

"Are you jealous, my dearest friend?" Lando decided to intervene, who had been attentive the whole time to the intimate scene between the couple.

"What? No!" Leclerc replied as calmly as possible, his attempt in vain.

"Well, it seems quite the opposite to me," Norris said. "You should relax a bit. There's nothing wrong with your girlfriend talking to other drivers, even more so when she's preparing a party for you."

Il predestinato realized Norris was right and decided to calm down.You really didn't deserve the jerk behavior he was displaying at you at the moment.

"I guess you're right, Lando," he turned to you, timidly reaching for her hands. "I'm really sorry, Y/N, I shouldn't have behaved like that."

"It's okay, Charles. I understand that sometimes jealousy can be hard to control, I feel the same way sometimes about your fans, but I manage, not like you just showed me tonight!" you answer with a smile, hitting him in his arm.

Charles felt relieved to see that you had no interest in Lando beyond friendship and planning a failed surprise party in the process. Therefore, he just enjoyed the rest of the night with you, with his friend, and without having to worry about anything else.

[rexxdjarin]

A Twisted Fantasy

Commander Wolffe x F!Reader One Shot

Summary: Wolffe is a little (a lot) pent up and he knows only one way to truly unwind until he can get home to you. Word Count: 2k Chapter Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ RATING, dom!Wolffe (is there any other kind lol?), p in v sex, light bdsm themes and spanking, male masturbation reference Notes: I was inspired by our boy finally posting tf up in the trailer🤍 crossposted on ao3

My head is fucking pounding.

Wolffe thought.

Probably atmospheric changes bothering my eye again. 

As their transport hurtled through hyperspace back home to the Triple Zero, he was truly just thankful to be on solid ground and in breathable air. On extended tours like this, Wolffe was always on edge and testy. He missed the comforts of his barracks back home. He missed nights off at 79s with his brothers. Most of all, he missed her.

It had been so long he could barely detect the scent of her on the panties he kept from his last time with her. So many long rotations of burying his nose in them hoping they’d help him get off. Though, it was less and less satisfying the more he messed with them. With his mission completed and his squad probably recharging in the mess, he probably had time to ease his tension the best way he knew how.

Wolffe switched off the nav he was only casually following their course on and stood up. He glanced around the room only finding it filled with the men who should be on duty tonight. With a curt nod, he turned on his boot heel and left the room. 

Tension pricked up his spine as the anticipation built up for his favorite night time activity. Well second-favorite. He reasoned with himself. As he marched down the hall toward his quarters, he scowled the way he always did when he needed to signal to his men to leave him be. The few he did see as he passed by clearly got the message, as they did nothing more than salute formally and go about their business.

Good. He could only wait so long to take the edge off. 

His fists clenched so hard that his knuckles cracked beneath his gloves as the thought of her seeped deeper into his mind. How she blinks up at him like a tempting little vulptex when she wants him. The soft petal colored lips he can kiss whenever he wants to quiet her bold mouth. The wafting floral scent that drenches him in her for rotations afterwards. He fucking needed her.

He shook himself from his daydreaming as he approached his quarters. Urgently he entered his chaincode and stepped inside, sealing it shut behind him. He let his shoulders sag and tipped his head back, sighing dramatically at the relief flooding him already. In a flash, he set his helmet on his equipment crate and shucked the rest of his armor onto the floor beside it, stripping himself down to his black bodyglove. 

His muscles screamed with overuse and the ache behind his eyes became even more noticeable without the excess weight of his helmet on his head. He eased himself down into bed and slumped into his pillow. The rest was soothing, even on the shitty excuse for a mattress they were all given. In a few moments, he was finally comfortable again.

Although, as the post-mission tension he had been feeling subsided, the overwhelming urge of sexual frustration rose to take its place. His body had already decided this was impossible to ignore, his cock hardening between his legs with every second that passed. The dull ache gave way to the familiar loaded throb that he’d come to welcome in his adulthood. It grounded him and gave him something to look forward to when he returned from a mission.

He sighed with satisfaction as he peeled down the waistband of his bottoms and let his now uncomfortably stiff cock fly up. He let out a huff, wrapping his hand around the base and giving it the gentlest tug to get himself started. The mission, the stress, the pain all melted away as he began a slow rhythm he liked. 

His mind wandered and thoughts of her poured in, like they always did. One dirty little thought in particular began forming. He couldn’t remember if he had dreamed this once before or if it really happened, but it excited him either way…

Her body splayed out on his dark gray sheets, the fabric pooling around her waist and hiding just enough of her breasts to keep things entertaining. He always loved how she looked from behind for obvious reasons, but from this vantage point above her he felt powerful. She looked so unsuspecting and helpless, like prey just waiting to be pounced on.

His cock twitched and bounced with excitement from above her, knowing mere moments from now he’d get to fill her up with it. She looked back at him almost in desperation, her eyes begging him more than her words ever could. 

Wolffe chuckled sadistically, slowly easing himself down to press his chest to her back. She keened for him, her back arching to brush skin to skin the way she craved. She turned her face hoping he would give her the mercy of a few fervent kisses, but not tonight. He couldn’t. His cock was throbbing so hard it hurt. 

He leaned closer, pressing featherlight kisses up her shoulder blade to the side of her neck. Grunting and swearing as he let his hips grind against her ass. She felt so good against him, her skin so soft and warm receiving him as he brushed himself against her lewdly. Teasing himself was torturous, but he enjoyed a little of that now and again. Certainly drove her crazy though. 

Each roll of his hips brushed hers deeper into the mattress beneath her and massaged her clit perfectly. The sound of her gasping and whimpering for more only made him want to go faster. Her hands reached back to grip into his curls and the tugging at his scalp made heat course down Wolffe’s spine like nothing else. 

Fuck. He swore, countering with a love bite in the crook of her neck that everyone would see in the morning. She moaned and pulled tighter making his skin erupt in goosebumps at both the sensation and the sound of her pleasure. She trembled beneath his weight, probably already close to cumming from the friction alone. She was like that when he was gone for a long time, anything he did made her insatiable and it made the sex unreal.

He suckled deep hickies into the thin skin around her jaw and teased her mercilessly as she moaned pitifully for him. He didn’t care. He was impatient and in control and he needed her wet, so she could take all of him easily. He rutted his hips between her cheeks over and over again, holding his hands around her ribcage to hold her steady beneath him.

Wolffe kissed up to her ear, his hands slotting into the dip of her waist to hold her as he slowed his grinding. “Are you ready to take me, darling?” he muttered softly, grazing the shell of her ear with his teeth. “I won’t be gentle, but I can’t wait anymore.”

She mewled pathetically, “I’m ready. I need you. Please, Wolffe.” The sound of his name in her little desperate moan made him snap. With a kiss to her shoulder, he lifted himself back over her and spread her thighs apart. Sticky warmth coated her inner thighs and he groaned as he slid his length through it with ease.

His eyes fluttered as he prodded at her entrance, the head slipping through and splitting her open as he followed through. Wolffe hissed, her heat searing pleasure through him instantly. He snapped a few shallow thrusts to part her walls around him and she cried out moans that would keep Wolffe stimulated for years. 

As her walls enveloped him, he started his grueling rhythm, his hips plowing into her as deep and as hard as he could. He growled in satisfaction, the burning heat swelling in his lower belly sending him into a frenzy. “You take me so fucking good.” He capped his compliment with a swift smack to her ass. 

She swallowed her cries, curling her fingers into his sheets and nodding vigorously. “Always, Sir. Always.” She raised her hips, giving him a better angle, which he took immediate advantage of. He wrapped both his large hands around the small of her waist for better leverage and shoved himself deeper inside her. 

“Awwh, that’s a good girl.” He gritted his teeth, her grip on him tightening markedly at his claim. “So fucking tight I can barely move. You missed me, haven’t you? Need me to come home and open you up just like this.” He laughed, letting his strokes shorten as he rocked into her a little harder. 

“Mhm. It’s not the…same…without you, Sir.” she muttered, turning to scream into the mattress as he sped up. Wolffe shifted to curl his hands into the nape of her neck and turned her head away from the muffling covers of his barracks bed. 

“Ah ah, let them all hear you say that, darling.” He curled his hand into her hair and twisted it around his wrist, pulling just enough to feel good. “Give me a little something to be proud of.” he huffed, the exertion admittedly starting to get to him too. His skin was boiling hot, a sheen of sweat coating his entire body as he slipped against hers. Her ass bounced against him, slapping against his thighs as he pounded her into the mattress beneath them.

“Fuck me, Wolffe.” she begged, her hands frantically searching for grip as he hit a spot inside her that made her scramble. “Right there, again. Harder…I can take it, Commander.” she baited him, rolling her hips back into him.

Wolffe dropped down to rest on his forearms and let himself press his body into hers. She writhed beneath him as his cock speared into her at a lower angle. Her walls fluttered around him and Wolffe knew from experience she wouldn’t last much longer. He groaned lowly as his own orgasm began creeping up on him too.

He bit down on her shoulder and let his hips drive as fast and deep as he could manage. “Know just how you like it, filthy girl. Fast and rough. Let me do whatever I want to you…” he grunted between exerted exhales as he kept up his pace. Her moans got breathier and she nodded in agreement. “Let me ruin this little cunt for anyone else but me.”

She cried out a pitiful “Yes.” Wolffe felt her muscles beginning to tense and her walls collapsing around him. His throbbing cock was suffocating inside her and he shuddered as pleasure began its slow trickle down the length of his own body. He could no longer control the snapping of his hips, the air in his lungs or the strength of his bruising grip on her perfect body. 

His ears filled with the delightful repetitive “Yes, yes….yes, Wolffe…fuck, yes.” Her soft curves and sweat-slick skin pressed against his, her walls trapping his cock in her warmth, her face frozen in permanent ecstasy as the high crashed into her. He pressed his forehead into her shoulder and pulled her hips into his as he locked in, shuddering from head to toe as the crest of his own orgasm dragged him under.

His groans died in his throat as he emptied each spurt of pleasure inside her. He lost count of how many times he shot molten hot ribbons into her heat. He panted, the overwhelming pleasure leaving him so delightfully and completely spent. He collapsed on top of her, rolling them both over to cuddle her close while he regained his ability to breathe.

Wolffe let his large palm rest on the soft plush of her lower belly, just over where he’d filled her completely full of him. She was already asleep, far too tired to stay conscious after something as intense as they usually were together. He’d hold her close and keep her safe, even if she wasn’t awake to experience it, for as long as she needed him…

He blinked away the haze of orgasm and came to with a mess on his hands. With the headache and all the tension completely gone, the pull of sleep was inevitable, finally. He cleaned himself off and laid back into bed, knowing that by the time he woke up in 0600 hours he could make that fantasy a reality all over again.

--

notes: hi I love him your honor I will probably add taglist and upload to ao3 later but I just wanted to get this posted bc im excited about it.

[icedmatchatae]

Please Teach Me? | JJK

Pairing: Frat President Jungkook x Succubus Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff??, Comedy (enjoy my annoying humor)

Summary: You’re a succubus who doesn’t know a thing or two on luring men, and it doesn’t help that your first task in training is to get the most egotistical fuck boy in the human realm in bed, Beta Tau Sigma president Jeon Jungkook.

Warning: Uhhh where do I start? We’re going on an adventure! Seokjin is the best :D, Second hand embarrassment from our dear OC, OC is kinda ditz but smart at the same time???, also forgets she’s a demon and is confused 999.6969% of the time, Dom Sadist Jungkook (he’s so mean in a good way)/ Masochist Succubus Reader, sir kink, size kink (OC is fun size and a rag doll), dirty talk, degrading/threats lol not really, praising, her wings and tail are sensitive ;-), multiple orgasms (too many to count haha), oral (m and f receiving), tail sucking?? LOL, fingering, wing/tail play hahahah, face slapping, pussy slapping, ass slapping, spitting djdjdjdj, dumbification, unprotected sex (she’s literally a succubus, and you’re not so be safe), creampies

Word count: 18.1k

A/N: I wanna say pwp but there was a plot lol I’m not good with that. I also suck because this one-shot was TOO LONG WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME GHEROGHEOGE why the fuck did I make the smut so long ;-; also I guess this could be part of Halloween LOL

I've also cross-posted this originally on AO3 as well! Enjoy~~~

This was complete and utter bullshit.

There was no way this was supposed to be your first assigned task. Don’t the highers have pity on you?

Well, no, not really. They don’t show as many emotions as you did, yet they were relieved you even made it somewhere in the training program. But this was an outrage for you as you scanned the file sent to your dorm.

Your burgundy wings fluttered furiously while your matching-colored tail stayed straight up due to how uncomfortable you were. You scratched your head in frustration and even accidentally hitting your little horns before letting out a loud whine. You pushed through your dorm room and flew straight to your mentor with the same file that affected your being.

Some of your cohorts watched you and your high-pitched cries, being the famous failure who finally obtained her first assignment after like, what, five years?

Let’s get one thing straight—you were a succubus…in training. 

Okay, so before a succubus goes out to the realms and devours men through sexual activities on their own, they must train and understand the ways of the succubi. Succubi must learn how to lure and attract men, use their bodies in a way that is ultimately captivating to anyone of the eye, and be confident in the art of how the demons perform. During the training process, succubi take exams and complete tasks, and each has their own mentor that passes them or not. It’s kind of like school where grades don’t matter, and if you complete it well, you pass. If you don’t pass, you must repeat the same task on another subject.

In typical folklore, succubi performed sexual activities while men slept. But through training, it eases the demons into this last task until they are full-fledged succubus ready to destroy mankind.

You, unfortunately, knew nothing about anything, really. You weren’t the best learner as is. You also can’t comprehend that well until someone, i.e., your mentor, yelled at you. Throwing the profession you have for eternity, it may be a little challenging to get by. You already failed an exam or three, and you burned half of your mentor all because you simply couldn’t learn how to attract and lure men into bed. 

Luckily, your mentor decided to give you some practice rounds to fully comprehend the works and information. But every round, he’d comment on how rather than turning men on, you’ll leave them immensely uncomfortable or left with a burn.

You were held back, as the standard training for succubi was at least a year and a half, depending on how determined you were. Most of the demons you started with completed training ages ago, leaving you behind. While they’re out and about 69-ing men snoring their dicks off, you were busy trying to pass the pre-exam before going into the field.

Lo and behold, you finally passed and couldn’t be happier. You wanted to be a good succubus and prove to the highers and your mentor that you are worthy of being a sex demon. 

But how can you when you are assigned a difficult task for the first time?

“Seokjin!” You burst into your mentor’s office with teary eyes and a pout like no other. You sniffled as you found him unbothered, standing. His dick was out and hardened as he examined it through his large gold-framed mirror on the wall behind his desk. You couldn’t care about his actions as incubus and succubus were comfortable showing and performing their bodies. You were all sex demons, for fuck’s sake.

“What is it, ___? I’m scrutinizing my cock. By the way, does it look extra curved today?” Seokjin tore his eyes away from his reflection to finally look at his distraught mentee.

“No, it doesn’t! It looks more pointed and the trunk looks like it gained another ripple, but that’s not why I’m here!” You sobbed out in anger as you flew to slam the file on the surface of his desk. “Explain!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes before tucking himself back into his pants. He grabbed the file and flaunted it in front of your stressed face. “Ugh, ___…”

“Why would you give me this? I can’t do this task! It’s way too hard!”

“You’re not letting me speak and—”

“I barely passed my exam. You, of all demons, should know my performance is not as excelled and up to par to face this subject.“ You didn’t even let him explain, and you went on with your rant as you were hovering all over his space. “And—”

“Yes, emphasis on barely but you still passed with a 69%, which by the way, I would give you some extra credit if you did it on purpose but you didn’t so…” He cuts you off to clarify your argument. “Just be glad you don’t need to take that exam again after your fourth time!”

“Hey, it was number five. If you’re my mentor, at least remember the stats.” You corrected him as you wiped the tears off your face. You stuck out your tongue at him, making him do the same. “But my first task can’t be this one! It’s way too hard. Why can’t I get someone easier, like a gamer or a sweet and caring one? Why the fuck does this have to be this one? “

Your mentor pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled exhaustingly. He assumed you were going to comply with his decision. Still, alas, you weren’t because you always bitched and whined about everything he did. It made sense because everything was out of your comfort zone, and he knew. “Your choices were limited since everyone else in your year already completed theirs years ago.” He explained, though knowing you won’t fully grasp that, he added, “It was either this one or a heinous wicked bastard who mistreats women, which I still don’t understand why they give first years that option. You could get hurt, and Lilith should deal with him.”

For some reason, your bothered appearance became relaxed yet shifted into a more shy demeanor. Eventually, you gently landed on your feet, resting your wings and tail. You raised your head to face him. He was much taller and bigger than you, and so was everyone else. “B-but, I can’t. I’ll—“

“No, shh. Don’t say you’ll fuck up. Have faith—wait, have hope in yourself.” He pinched your horns lightly, helping you alleviate your frantic self. He knew you weren’t as confident in your ability. Hell, you even confided in him after your second failed exam, talking about how you felt you were lacking sex appeal, any attractiveness, your features, and your short stature that was well below average than any demon living. You even flashed your breasts at him as you complained they weren’t as big.

Seokjin never saw a succubus like you. You were the complete opposite to all things of your kind. Without your sharp horns, bat-like wings, and slithering dark tail with the end tip shaped like a heart, you could be mistaken as an angel. It was confusing and left him uncomfortable at times. But nevertheless, you were still a succubus.

“There’s a reason why the Seokjin, well-known incubus across the realms who is handsome, stunning, intelligent, funny, handsome, creative, extraordinary, handsome…did I say handsome?”

“Get on with your poorly executed speech.”

“There’s a reason why I’m your mentor.”

“Yeah, you were forced to after like three repeals.”

“Well, yes. But after I forced myself to get to know you, I realized you have much potential as a succubus, more than any demon I met. You’re absolutely gorgeous—almost as gorgeous as me—you’re also one of the most kind succubus I know and you’re very authentic.”

“Aww, thanks Jin. I appreciate you.”

“Of course, you’re still a bit of an airhead and awkward. You are wayyyy too obvious when you fuck up—“

“I take it back.” You spoke out.

“The point is you can do it. It’s literally what you are. This training is just prep for you despite all the technical things.” He reassured me and passed back the file to you. “After this, you can do whatever the hell you want.”

Though you were a bit at ease, you were still unconfident. “But how will I—”

“Remember what I said. “

“Your breasts aren’t what defines you? Every guy is obsessed with any titty?”

Your mentor raised his eyebrow, questioning why you remembered that so vividly. You merely blinked, waiting for his response. “Well, yes? But in this context, not that. Remember what your motto should be.”

“Men are simple-minded and easy?”

“Exactly.”

-

Your task was simple: you needed to get your subject in bed and fuck him. But what made it difficult was the subject himself, because he was a man—a human man. And you were a bit afraid of them. You heard some stuff from other demons saying how unhinged they were to the point where there were many instances that succubi got hurt and poorly bruised despite the supernatural strength demons conveyed.

Anyways, your subject goes by the name Jeon Jungkook. He was a fraternity president of Beta Tau Sigma, and through your findings, he was known to be a “fuck boy?”—whatever that was. He slept with many counterparts in college and broke hearts along the way. He excelled in academics and also came from a pretty well-off family. He was also in sports, soccer, and baseball.

That was it from the file because Seokjin redacted the rest by burning it away, including his personality, type, and interests. He did it as “a learning curve” for you to get more experience on your first task. You were about to bitch, but he interrupted you, saying you’ll have a little trip away from the demon realm.

You were still going to complain, but again, he reassured me that communication between you two would still be here.

There were photos of this Jeon Jungkook. He looked like someone who hurt you physically, emotionally, and mentally. Nonetheless, he was pretty attractive and appealing to your demon eyes. His body was muscular and ripped from his neck to his Achilles tendons. There was one of him shirtless and fucking hell, many dents and veins popping out, especially within his arms and hands. Speaking of his arms, his right one was fully decorated with tattoos. He had multiple piercings on his ears and a lip ring on his face.

Seokjin was kind enough to show you subtler pictures of him smiling and laughing which was actually cute to you. It relieved your nervousness in this task. This man was a real piece of work, yet you still knew nothing about him because you had to work for it, and you had no idea how to start—thanks, Seokjin…

Though you needed heavy guidance, you refused to ask your mentor; otherwise, he’d force you to say a statement that was not wholly true before assisting you.

So here you were: Posing as a student in the human realm on the university campus. You hid your wings and tail to look the part, which was unbearable because they were sealed inside your skin and cramped up. You wore a yellow sundress with a pair of cute little block heels while carrying a beige backpack around your surroundings.

People were on the grass in groups sleeping, studying, or talking amongst themselves, others were walking to get to classes, and some were rowdy and playing. You assumed this is typical human behavior, more so college students.

You felt out of place—no shit—this was definitely new territory you’re on. At the very least, you knew how to get around quickly, but that didn’t mean it’d be socially acceptable.

Your electronic device, which was called a phone, buzzed in your dress pocket. You pulled it out and saw that it was Seokjin called.

Once you answered, he greeted, “Hello, my lovely ___. How are you? I assume you arrived on campus. Please tell me you’re wearing something skimpy.”

“Jin, I’m uncomfortable—”

“That’s how I usually felt when you practiced—”

“I’m unfortunately not wearing anything skimpy because I’m uncomfortable—”

“Boo!!!”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” You spat back as you groaned. “Anyways, I’m here and I don’t know where to start. And before you speak, I refuse to say it because that’s literally power abuse and you’re my mentor! You should be guiding me regardless!”

“Okay, okay, fine! Don’t get your cherry printed panties in a twist. Just trying to relax you.“

“You’re no—wait, how do you know I’m wearing cherries?”

Ignoring your question, he continued on with some help. “Before you went, I was kind enough to give you some information. Inside your backpack, I placed a folder in there that has Jeon’s class and practice schedule. There are some new pointers that I had redacted previously, which I kinda regret now since you’re practically clueless.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“You! I practically have to scream at you to get shit into your little head!” He screamed. “I put who he associates with, i.e. his friends, frat members.” While he further explained himself, you quickly found an empty table and sat down as you retrieved what was in the backpack. You read off the papers and scrutinized the pictures given—by the way, also attractive men surrounding him.

“You haven’t given me his interests or personality.” You questioned though you spoke as a statement.

“Even though it was my plan to not show you everything, the highers thought it was best to not give it to you.” He replied as carefully and slowly as possible. Before you could yell at him, he beat you to it. “___, come on and understand. You know nothing on how to lure men seductively. They and I thought it was the perfect way possible for you. You’d be working closely with the dude and knowing your way around a human man. If you fuck up, you fuck up but at least you know next time what to do.”

You sighed, giving up on the notion. “Okay… I’ll try.”

“That’s the spirit! Plus, you won’t die.” He encouraged you. “___, it’s a very simple task. Just fuck him.”

“I know it’s just fucking him! You don’t think I want to?” You yelled but realized where you were. You looked around and spotted a couple of groups staring at you curiously. Trying to ignore the eyes, you returned to your conversation. “I’m just scared, okay? It’s my first time.”

“It’s okay to be scared. I was like that before.”

You snorted, “Really?” Judging by the way he carried himself, scared was definitely not it.

“Well, no. I was a fucking pro, but the thing I’m getting at is that it’s natural how you feel. But you shouldn’t. You’re gonna unlock something in you that you’ve never seen before. I can promise you that.” He countered, trying his best to keep you hopeful. “I’ll be calling you or if you need urgency, just mind communicate me. You got this. You’re a pretty succubus. There’s no way human men would deny you.”

“Okay, I understand.” You nodded. You checked the time and saw it was close to when Jungkook’s schedule started. “I think I need to go to his first class, so I’ll call you later.”

“Good luck, I believe in you!” He gave you one last pep talk. “I’ll give you a little cheat, just for that! He likes the naive ones.”

“What? What does that mean?” You asked, not getting anything from that.

“Exactly, little succubus.”

-

You walked into the lecture hall—shit, this was huge. How could you possibly learn anything with hundreds of people here? Anyways, this was a folklore and mythology literature class but not like it matters.

Your eyes scanned the students, searching for Jungkook, but you couldn’t see him. It didn’t help that you were short as fuck, having to tip toe and scan the crowd. It also didn’t that you were blocking the entranceway and people didn’t see you there, so you were pushed down by accident and fell to the ground on your knees and hands.

“Whoa didn’t see there, you little troll.” You heard a voice from behind, followed by a roar of deep laughter.

“Hey! How dare you call me a—” You turned your body around to face the culprit and gazed up at three figures, smirking at each other.

It was him, with two of his best friends at each side—from what you remembered, they were Jimin and Namjoon. They were wearing matching jackets with you assumed their frat symbols on them, slapping palms with one another. Holy hell, they all looked so good you wanted to eat metal and scratch rust. It made you more nervous about your task, knowing they looked like that in real life. Right off the bat, you noticed how these are some cocky men by their expression and behavior, but they were the type where you enjoyed seeing it more and still say thank you for it.

My goodness, Jungkook was hot. It frightened you because how were you going to get him in bed? Willingly? He looked like his standards were through the roof.

Distracted by your thoughts, you don’t notice how they all turned to face you and cocked their eyebrows up at seeing you. A cute little thing like you staring up with your big dark Bambi eyes with an adorable pout, wearing a dress while on your knees. The combination made two of the side men weak to your oblivion.

“Oops, sorry, gorgeous.” Jimin…yeah, that one, spoke. He reached out his hand for you to use to get up, which you timidly accepted, but you didn’t dare look at him. You were blanking out.

“Thank you.” You said softly, patting down your clothes.

“Hey, what’s yo—” He couldn’t finish his sentence as you zoomed out of the classroom.

Unfortunately, you bumped into another person and fell to the ground again, to which you mumbled sorry and used your super speed to evacuate the premises.

Yup, this was gonna be difficult for you.

-

“What the fuck do you mean you escaped? Why?” Seokjin yelled through the phone during what humans call their lunchtime. You were alone in the school cafeteria with a triangular food with red meat and cheese. You didn’t know what it was, but you refused to ask, so now you were stuck with it.

After the class or two you skipped, Seokjin called you for updates. Of course, what you explained disappointed him. You couldn’t get mad this time, it was your fault, and you reacted way worse than you imagined.

“I panicked! Okay?” You groaned, stabbing a fork into the human food. “I fell down and saw him, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just left.”

“___, that’s not what you’re supposed to do.” Your mentor sighed. “I let this one slide, but you gotta get with the program and complete your task.”

“I understand.” You frowned as your eyes wandered at those around you until you reached your target. He was amongst his friends laughing and throwing things at one another, but what was interesting this time was that he had a woman sitting on his lap, nuzzling her nose into his neck. You watched as she whispered something to his ear, making him grin cheekily before he spoke something. “I see him.”

“What’s he doing right now?” Seokjin wondered curiously.

“I think he’s with his friends? I see the other two from before, but there’s more…, and a lady is sitting on him.” You stated your observation, then, out of nowhere, they began making out in front of everyone. “They’re tonguing one another. Should I be worried?”

“No, you shouldn’t. You’re a demon.” He clarified. “Again, he’s a fuck boy. He gets around, so this is probably victim number 090197.”

“Jin, you should have seen him!” You mourned. “He looks like I could never get to him, like he has a standard.”

“___, as a fuck boy, he has no standard.” He tried his best to hold back on his snappy remarks because he knew you needed as much support as required. “Little one, it’s your nerves talking. It’ll be easy for you! You’re much more powerful than those…those human men.”

You continued to keep your eyes on him as those tongues between him and the girl pushed down their throats. Why did the woman make it look so easy? You don’t know why it was so difficult for you. You were literally a succubus! A sex demon! You feed off sex. It’s not like you were clueless, having experienced it from time to time, especially with that one warlock back in Wennale. What was his name again? Taehyung? Then again, this was your first human.

“Little one, don’t you wanna pass?”

“I do! I do so badly.” You cried, although there were no tears in sight. “I just—I just need some time. I have no confidence whatsoever.”

“I’m slightly disappointed when you have me as your mentor.”

“Please, you insult me all the time.”

“Yes, I do and it should only be me. You have no right to insult yourself, okay?”

“Okay.” You grumbled, and Seokjin didn’t like that.

“No, come on! You gotta be more pumped than that! Okay?” He shouted louder, letting his pitch get higher.

“Okay!” You chuckled, feeling better about yourself.

“That’s the spirit! That’s my mentee!”

“Yeah, I’m your mentee!”

“Now get in there and fuck his brains out!” He cheered you on, and you got a little too excited…

You slammed a fist on the table, standing up. “Yeah, he’s gonna reupholster my guts like furniture and clean it out with his cum!” You screamed out in the cafeteria. You didn’t realize it until you felt people’s eyes on you with dilated pupils. You stared back, wondering what was wrong—as it was entirely normal for succubi to do this. You swiftly glanced at Jungkook, who also looked at you shockingly.

Who were you?

-

There was no progress in your task for the past couple of days.

You were still afraid of going up to him and seducing him. You kept your distance and watched him from far away, during his classes, lunch, practice, and sometimes even late at night as you flew up and peeped through his window when he did and didn’t have someone over. At the very least, you could get a sense of who he was and what he liked.

From what you heard and saw, he was a complete asshole and too much into his ego to let a weakness show. He mainly liked to show off his delicious muscular body when playing soccer during his practices. He loved winning—a competitive motherfucker, and sometimes picked fights.

He didn’t hurt anyone…well, physically, you guessed. But you did see many girls running away crying after he spoke to them with that evil bunny smile, saying nothing would happen between them. There was no preference in girls, so that was good for you.  

His friends aren’t any better. They walked around campus like they were kings in a castle. They were too arrogant. Holy hell, was this how human men were? Damn, though Jin was annoying, you had to be honest and say incubi and other creatures were wayyyyy better than these humans.

You sat at the bleachers with a group of students taking some kind of greenery wrapped in paper. You didn’t know what it was, but you were familiar with the scent as it was usually used to scare away woodland trolls. 

Fun fact: Succubi and trolls had bad blood with them because one of the many reasons, they always sneak into our lands and hump our kinds’ legs since they couldn’t reach them. 

You tried blending in, sometimes getting offered some, but you politely denied it. You munched on delicious granola that you discovered as you scrutinized Jungkook.

Despite his sour taste of choices, you couldn’t help but still want him. Perhaps it was the demon in you who didn’t care about any traits except having sex with men. But nevertheless, you gravitated toward him. 

Now you felt a bit more in-tuned and confident as a succubus. Now knowing he doesn’t care for types except for having a hole, you had a chance to face him. But of course, the question was, how can you not make it obvious you needed to sleep with him?

You saw that practice was over, so now you had to sneakily follow.

Pretending to be part of the group with you, you shouldered your backpack and waved goodbye, which they did back despite not knowing who you were. You skipped down the bleachers and walked in the team’s direction. You took the scenic route, feigning you were looking at trees and shrubbery, even taking pictures with the phone. You didn’t know it could do that until two days ago, so you used it to your advantage by taking pictures of Jungkook for evidential purposes.

You were finally within hearing reach as you listened to Namjoon speak. “Bro, this party tonight is gonna go hard! Jimin called and said that the drinks and tables are set up.”

“The perfect way to end a perfect week.” Jungkook smiled. You enjoyed it when he spoke. It sounded very friendly to your ears.

“Of course, you’d say that.” Namjoon rolled his eyes at his friend. “We all know that you’re gonna get lucky with some girl as always.”

“What can I say? I’m irresistible.” Ugh, such a shitty personality on a red flag—you also learned that phrase here and for that, you loved the color red. “Need someone new though. It’s like I fucked every girl, except the ones you guys had. I’d like no sloppy seconds, please and thank you.”

“I would say go for a freshmen, but it does sound a bit wrong…” Namjoon commented. “Whatever, this party is free for all. Even people from the other university near by can come.”

“Mmm, we’ll just have to see.”

A party? For all? Sounds like you could join. This could be a perfect opportunity to finally get Jungkook. You knew that much more planning needed to be done, but that could be dealt with later. You needed to tell Seokjin!

-

“Finally, fuck. I was thinking of coming over to the realm and drag the both of you into a room to stick his dick in you.” Seokjin said in relief through what was a video called. Damn, this device was terrific and handy to use.

It was nice to see a familiar face despite it being Jin’s fucking irking one. You missed him, but you weren’t going to tell him that, or else he’d make fun of you until eternity, which was terrible because you both were immortal.

“I didn’t know how to approach him. Every chance seemed not right?” You reasoned as you sat on the couch. Seokjin got or whatever he did—stole?— you a house to stay at during your time here. Although the outside looked deathly abandoned, the interior was similar to your dorm back home and was near the campus. The frat house, so you can say you were relatively comfortable. 

“If that gets you to sleep at night.” Seokjin snorted, shaking his head. “Well, you’re almost there and I hope that you’ll complete this task by tonight. The highers are complaining when you’re going to finish.”

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes. “This is me they’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I know I told them that.”

You stopped chuckling to pout at him, “Rude.”

“Anyways, what are you gonna wear? Something skimpy I hope. I don’t wanna see a duvet on you. I want to see some tits and ass, maybe even an areola.” Your mentor suggested rapidly.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I brought anything like that from back home.” You shrugged.

“Please stop wearing a lot of fabric.”

“Hey! At least I’m showing some collarbone! You’ve seen how humans dress. I needed to blend in and not get noticed.” You explained. “You think I won’t get stared at if I wore a dark purple thong and a corset around campus?”

“You’ll probably give many people boners though.” He countered, making you roll your eyes. “Lucky for you, I prepared a wardrobe in your room for you to pick. It has some lingeries and short dresses you can choose from. Don’t fail me now. If you need my help, I think it’s best for you to mind communicate with me. And if you really need my help, you can just say—”

“I’m not gonna say it but I will contact you. Good bye.” You hung up before he said anything. You exhaled and paused for a while.

This was it. You were going to complete your task tonight. It shouldn’t be too bad, you told yourself. You needed to have some confidence and encourage yourself. You put on a smile before going to your room to prepare yourself.

-

“This is how people have fun?” You grimaced as you commented on what you saw.

You arrived inside the house at the completed crowded frat party where people scattered the entire block. You spotted students running around naked, making out that almost reached exhibitionism, vomiting by the curb, and dancing to the sounds of beats that were too loud you couldn’t even hear yourself or Seokjin think. You guess you can say it was rather adventurous, but if it excited people, then so be it.

“Humans are interesting creatures, right?” Seokjin responded in your mind. His voice was crisp and clear, almost like he was right by you.

It was dreadful.

“I also saw what you sent me. Absolutely smashable, my dear!” Seokjin applauded you, turning your cheeks into a deep pink.

As what a succubus does best, you dressed up like dicks were gonna turn red and fall off from the horniest pain they’ll ever experience. You wore a short baby pink glittered dress paired with matching platform heels that were too high for your liking. The outfit was backless, exposing your supple skin. At the same time, the front pushed your boobs up, sitting properly on your chest for everyone—specifically Jungkook to see. You decided to curl your hair into the bombshell style, a trademark for a succubus. The only thing was makeup, and you went pretty natural but still dolled up for your skin to glow radiantly under those poorly-lit frat lights.

As you walked to the party, you noticed many men follow your movement, eyeing your features and gawking at your curves. They were obvious, but you ignored them to continue doing what you needed.

“You’re definitely gonna suck all the semen out of that poor soul.” Seokjin said excitingly. “By the way, where is he?”

“I have no idea.” You shook your head, scoping out the crowd to find the handsome human. “Can’t suck the semen out if I can’t see him.” One of your feet ran into the other, causing you to trip, but you got your balance back up. “Fuck these heels.”

“Relax, I’m sure you’ll find him. The night is still young and you should enjoy yourself before coming back here for your next assignment.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. After this, I request like a month off after the mental and emotional trauma I went through.” You mentioned as you walked passed a group of people, none of which were Jungkook.

“Request denied.” Your mentor responded back. “I would like to also say that since you discovered Jungkook’s behavior, you should also note that he wants to get laid and probably before the night ends. If he does get someone and it isn’t you, then you missed your chance.”

Oh, no. You didn’t think about that. Since you overheard him saying he probably went through every girl, you had tunnel vision that he could only want you since you were “fresh.”

Oh, fuck. You also didn’t realize that there’s literally another school here, so the chances of him sleeping with somebody else new tonight was 99.9%.

What was the other 0.1% chance, one might ask?

 It was you interrupting.

“Fuck, Jin. I need to find him quickly then.” You said under your breath as you pushed through. “I’ll fuck him and leave. Dammit, why does this guy have to be ran through the freeway?”

“Better than someone who isn’t. Go get him, I’ll be here if you need it! Remember those words.”

“I’m not fucking saying them!” You seethed, pushing sweaty bodies out of your way. The body odor was through the roof, and you wanted to gag.

You weaved your way through somewhere but don’t particularly know where you were. Everything was condensed with people. Though you hated the heels, they gave you height. So you turned your head left and saw the kitchen ahead, which was somehow more empty, but you didn’t mind since you just needed some cubic centimeters to breathe. You made it to the kitchen, trying to relax yourself and adjust your outfit.

You had to develop an idea fast before Jungkook ran off with another victim. Nothing was coming to your mind, and it didn’t help when you saw a table of snacks waiting to be taken. You walked up and scanned the snacks in search of those granolas you enjoyed having. Alas, there weren’t any, which bummed you out. But you were still determined to find them.

This was a house. You were sure they had some granolas.

Suddenly, two dudes—oh, one of them was Jimin—walked in carrying a bag of ice and more snacks. Maybe they knew where the granola was located.

You went up to them while they were busy fixing everything and talking to one another. You couldn’t understand what they were saying until the other one, you didn’t know, spoke. 

“I swear that when it popped, there was so much black gunk coming out that it squirted into Yoongi’s eye.” The one you didn’t know laughed and sounded uplifting; you also wanted to laugh, but what he said confused you. 

“He told me. He wanted to beat your ass.” Jimin giggled as he dumped the ice into the jug coolers.

You confidently—or at least told yourself you were—went up to them. Their backs were facing you, so they didn’t notice you coming their way until you tapped on the unknown guy’s shoulder, hoping you got his attention. The guy thought it was one of the pledges trying to ask a stupid question to which he was gonna tell them to fuck off until he saw an absolute doll in front of him.

“Excuse me, do you have granola?” You asked with wide irises with a gentle smile, anticipating his answer as you chanted in your head he’d say yes. But he didn’t say anything to you. He kept his eyes on you, though. Then down to your figure and back up to your face. He has never seen you before.

“Do you have granola?” You repeated yourself, and now Jimin finally had your attention.

“Gorgeous, we meet again!” You could have sworn Jimin’s eyes lit up with heavy passion and jubilance. He glanced at your banging body and cursed under his breath, but you couldn’t hear.

“Jimin, you know her?” Hoseok gasped as his eyes shifted to his friend, then to you.

“Of course, bud.” Jimin smirked. “She’s in my class…I think.”

You didn’t comprehend what was happening, but you went with it. “Yes… I’m in his literature class. Hi, Jimin.” You smiled, puffing up your cheeks and eyes, making their hearts palpitate.

“You’re looking as beautiful as ever…” He slowly went silent as his slit eyes grew at you. You came up blank when you tilted your head to the side, not knowing what he was doing. You thought he would continue, but he kept his mouth shut. You blinked and were about to ask him if anything was wrong, but the unknown guy beat you to it.

“I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi. What’s you name, doll?” Hoseok grinned at you.

“Ohhh.” You said in awe, now getting what Jimin was trying to do. You nodded slowly before replying, “I’m ___! Hi, Hobi.” The way you said his nickname made him feel some type of way.

“___!” Jimin raised his arms before coming up to hug you, but you were pulled back by the waist from Hoseok.

“You don’t get to hug her when you clearly forgot her name.” Hoseok scoffed, resting his palms on the tops of your hips. “Come on, doll.”

“Hey, that’s only because she ran away from me when I was about to ask her her name,” Jimin explained. His gaze went back to you as well as his smirk. “I’ve never seen you around campus before. Are you a first year?”

“Uhhh, no?” You answered. Shit, now you had to come up with some story. “I-I transferred here from somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Oh, it’s a part of Hell—I mean, Helena…”

“Helena?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “I think that sounds like from the States?”

“I think so, yeah.” You nodded, hoping they won’t ask any more questions. “I’m new here and I don’t know much, so I thought this party would help me get comfortable.” That was believable, right?

Though they tried to hide it, you saw how they shared the same evil reaction followed by a fake ass smile that no one would know except a demon-like yourself. Oh, no. This was going in a different direction than you wanted. 

“Don’t worry, gorgeous. We’ll help you get comfortable around here.” They sounded so genuine you were almost convinced, but you had to remind yourself that they were distractions. The main person was around the house, waiting for his dick to get wet.

“Thank you for your help, but I think I’ll survive.” You turned them down as friendly as possible. “But do you have granola?”

Not giving up, Hoseok nodded and grabbed your hand. Luckily, you didn’t mind, or else he would have lost one of his two personal hand jobs. “Of course, we keep them in the cabinets. We don’t usually give it out during parties, but since you’re one of a kind, we’ll let it slide.”

“Thanks, Hobi.” Hoseok thought you were so cute yet hot as fuck. He couldn’t back down if there was a slight future of you giving him the glug plug triple gorilla twist 3000. The fucker basically ran to get the bags of granola from you.

In the meantime, Jimin butted in and handed you a drink. “Here, gorgeous. I bet you’re thirsty.” When he said that, he wished you were thirsty for him. “Don’t worry, it’s from the jug. It’s our frat’s very own jungle juice made with passion and love. But be careful now. It’s a little strong.”

“What’s in it?”

“Well, various kinds of juices but alcohol content would be three bottles of tequila, give bottles of soju, two bottle of gin, a bottle of Bacardi, and a splash of vodka.” You have never heard of those things before, but you did know alcohol as demons loved to drink. Your favorite was pure distilled moonshine. You took the cup into your hand. The shorter man kept his eye contact, waiting to drink it.

You sipped, taking in the flavor and taste, and nodded. “It tastes like nothing. Just sugar water.” There you chugged down the liquid like it was cum before wiping your lips and giving the empty cup back to Jimin, whose jaw dropped.

A woman who could handle her liquor: he was hard.

Eventually, Hoseok came back with two bags of unopened granola in his hands. “Here you go, doll.” You squealed in glee, finally retrieving the crunchy golden glory that is granola. You were almost satisfied with your night…almost. You were still on the hunt for that frat president.

“Thanks, Hobi!” You praised gratuitously before pecking his cheek. You thought nothing of it as it was a customary gesture, especially between succubi. Still, you completely forgot you did this as a human. A human man.

The slight innocent touch caused a static effect on the man. His skin prickled with his hairs straight up, followed by the tingles on his erogenous points, which were behind his ears, neck, and nipples. Blood rushed from the brain through his veins, evidently reaching his growing phallic.

You gave a gentle smile before waving, leaving both men in shock and turning on. You didn’t even do anything to them, yet you plagued a memory they and their dicks will never forget.

They wished to have you.

-

You've been here almost an hour and still have not found Jungkook. You'd think being the main guy of this story, he would have already appeared more clearly, had more lines, and interacted with you, but nooooo, you had it hard and had to work for it.

You blamed Seokjin for this.

While you looked for him, you at least tried to take some time to have fun. Humans had fascinating ways to arouse and excite them, especially over weak alcohol. It didn't necessarily make you judge their lifestyle, but more so gained another perspective which you concluded was complete utter shit.

You eventually found Namjoon—of course, you'd see everyone else except Jeon—who was doing a "shotgun" competition. Somehow you got roped into doing it, even though you knew nothing about doing it. You asked the giant muscular man how to do so.

Long story short, you won, leaving with a drunk, dazed Namjoon following you behind Hoseok and Jimin.

Yeah, you weren't alone in the hour and started to get annoyed.

"Beautiful, where you going? Let me take you upstairs and talk our feelings."

"Don't your feet hurt in those heels, doll? I bet if I massage it, you'll feel better."

"You're so gorgeous, you make me want to throw up."

The commentary from the men wouldn't stop as they followed you like ducklings to a mother duck. You inhaled deeply through your nose, attempting to keep calm as you passed by the same group of people you saw for the 58902843 time.

"Seokjin, they're fucking killing me." You said in your mind.

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?" He laughed at your misery. When you said nothing back, he knew you had a deadly glare that was the most serious he had ever experienced. He could feel you, and it frightened him. After a few seconds and a string of confidence, he gulped, "Okay, fine. Hold on." He then hung up.

"Jin? Jin! Hello, did you fucking hang up o—"

"___, are you okay? You seem distress." Namjoon called out, taking your attention away from calling out your mentor. "Do you need some help? I'm a biology major and I have an excellent stash of emergency medicine—"

"Please, we get that you're prepared and trying to impress her!" Jimin insulted his friend's attempt. "We know you just want her!"

"Like you're any better." Hoseok snorted condescendingly. "I actually care for your health, ___, so I would love to assist you with any way to relief you of your distress."

The battle of roasts began between the trio as you stared blankly at them. You opened your mouth to speak, but then Namjoon called out Jimin for not wiping the toilet seat and that there were markings. You stayed quiet and thought it was your chance to escape. You stepped back, but you felt a rigid stature behind you.

An arm wrapped around your waist, and you were about to protest when they said, "Little one, I finally found you!" You exhaled in comfort, seeing your mentor in the flesh. You couldn't restrain yourself from leaning your head into his chest.

His saying paused the trio's banter to get a glimpse of the face behind that voice. No doubt in their minds, they were impressed by seeing such a tall attractive man.

Seokjin's red dress shirt was nearly unbuttoned, leaving the last two buttons together, which revealed his illuminating golden chest. His shirt was tucked into black trousers that accentuated his lean figure. His ebony hair was gelled back, exposing his one-of-a-kind forehead and prominent eyebrows.

Your mentor eyed the trio and grinned, "I see you have some friends."

"Uhh, excuse me, who are you?" Namjoon was the first to talk, refusing to let his eyes leave the handsome demon.

"I'm Seokjin."

"I-is he your boyfriend, ___?" Jimin asked.

You wanted to throw up at the sound of that. Seokjin was handsome, but he was your mentor, and you'd rather throw a chair at him.

"Ahh, no." Seokjin smiled, which made the humans breathe in relief. "But I'm her pimp daddy."

"Uh, what is that?" You thought out loud, but judging by the expressions on the men's faces, it seemed to work?? You went with it. "Yeah…my pimp daddy."

"Oh. Does that mean we have to pay for her?" Hoseok questioned, looking like he was ready to Venmo your mentor.

"She's not for grabs." Seokjin denied it, deflating their moods. "However, I have some girls you can play with for free of charge since you've been so dear to my little one." With the snap of his fingers, three succubi that you remembered you were in class with and passed their training came forward and caught the attention of the humans. Each seemed to play on a human's type as they drooled at one particular demon.

"Would you like to see my art collection in my room?" Namjoon asked the shortest demon.

"Are you up for a drinking challenge?" Jimin suggested the curviest one.

"I wanna massage you feet." Hoseok demanded the tallest one.

With arms linked with the demons, they departed in their own ways, leaving you and Seokjin alone. You sighed as you turned and looked up to Seokjin. "Thank you for once. But you do realize those three might kill them."

"True, but do you really care right now?" Seokjin shrugged, and you muttered nonsense. "You're so lucky I came. If not, you might have had an orgy which is another task, but you're not quite there yet."

"I said thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just fuck the right guy, okay?" He waved it off as he, too, scoped out the area. "This place is packed."

"I know! That's why I'm struggling to find him." You whined, getting annoyed at your circumstances. "Please help me!"

"___, at this point of the task, it's really up to you."

"Please!!!!" You begged as you started bouncing in place. "Please, Seokjin. Please. Please. Please. Please! Ple—"

"Alright, fine! Fuck!" He yelled in irritation at your voice. "Anything for you to shut up!" He calmed down while you cheered in victory, waiting for him to speak. "Okay, so what do you know about Jungkook? After observing him?"

You tilted your head and gazed to the side to think. "Well, I do know he's an asshole. A little cocky? Loves to win from the sports and practices. He likes to show off? But what does this have to d—"

"So he likes to be at the center of attention?" Seokjin pointed out.

"I guess, but—"

"Think, ___." He interrupted you, but with his eyes, he pleaded. "Think and put it together. If he likes being at the center of attention…where would he be?"

Damn, was this a riddle? You never did well at those. You just gave up and went on with life. But by the look on Seokjin's face, he was desperate with you trying to realize something, and he wanted you to learn.

With that being said, where would the guy who enjoyed being at the center of attention be? 

Though you attempted to think, you couldn't hear your thoughts as a cheer of people shattered your brain, catching your focus on that. You turned your head, furrowed your brows, and were curious about the commotion.

"Hey! You bitch, focus." Seokjin snapped his fingers in front of your face, but you were to no avail. You walked away from him and followed the sounds. He groaned and rolled his eyes before footing behind you.

Hollers grew louder, and more and more humans huddled around. You pushed through the crowd, noticing how they circled around a table, giving a lot of room for it. Another uproar came into your ear as you spotted two men on each side of the table. Cups were stacked and laid out on the surface while you saw a small ball thrown into the opposite side's cup, which got another applause.

You cocked an eyebrow, questioning the excitement of throwing a ball into a cup. Again, humans and their odd interests.

Your eyes shifted towards the humans. One looked like he was struggling as his expression turned green with envy with his arms crossed over his chest. The other smiled victoriously when he shot another ball into the last cup, standing with ease. The bodies jumped in excitement, celebrating the win. Though the light was dimmed and colors splattered the room, you noticed who that was.

"Likes being in the center of attention will look for anything that grabs the people's eyes." You commented out of nowhere, surprisingly Seokjin, and made him proud.

"There's your boy right now." He nodded towards Jungkook, who pumped his fists in the air. The other guy walked away after flipping him off while the frat president blew a kiss goodbye. Coming out of the crowd, another girl who you didn't see before latched onto his body and kissed his cheek. She whispered into his ear, and his smile turned lustful with greed.

"Oh, no. He already has someone." You frowned, stomping your heel on the sticky floor. 

"It's not too late yet." Seokjin reassured. "He still has adrenaline rush from the games, he's too focused on that than pussy. You need to infiltrate somehow, but I'm not sure."

"Does anyone else want to lose at the hands of the reigning champion, Jeon Jungkook?" Another man popped into the middle. He was a bit shorter, the same height as Jimin, and had burnt orange hair. He scanned the crowd while Jungkook was too busy, practically eye-fucking the girl as he squeezed her lower back.

You couldn't let it happen.

"I'll go!" Everyone's pupils pivoted towards the high-pitched sound next to Seokjin. You raised your hand, and your voice echoed in the house, making all silent and shocked. You weren't thinking. This was all in impulse. They were staring at you with wide eyes as you stared directly at Jungkook, who had an expression you couldn't read.

"The fuck are you doing?" Seokjin spoke to you through your mind.

"I don't know but here's my chance." You shrugged.

"You, love?" The orange-haired man pointed at you.

You gulped, then nodded. You stepped forward, but again, your shoes bumped into one another, letting you trip and fall for everyone to see. 

"Son of bitch." Seokjin muttered under his breath, watching you in shame.

You were so tired of these heels that you decided to rip them off and throw them to the side, leaving you barefoot and short once again. You finally stood up and wobbled towards the table. You slammed your fist on it with determination as you stared at Jungkook.

But his stare was a bit intimidating now, so you moved your gaze to the orange man. "Yes, me! I'll play him." You nodded towards Jungkook.

"You're a feisty pretty one." Orange man smirked, then looked towards Jungkook. "Wanna play her?"

Jungkook snorted and let out a demeaning laugh, forcing you to face him and frown. "Are you serious right now? Why would I—" He couldn't finish his sentence because he met your eyes, you batting doe-eyes filled with pureness yet mystery. You looked familiar; he wanted to recognize you. A pretty face like yours should never be forgotten. "Yeah, I'll challenge her." He couldn't say no to a gorgeous sight before him.

He pushed himself away from the girl hooking onto him. She was about to complain, but he glared at her, causing her to feel insignificant and run off. His head turned back at you with a smirk you deemed his signature. You smiled back, which only made him scrunch his nose.

Fuck, he's cute.

"Hi, angel. What's your name?" His voice was smooth with so much depth.

"Uhh, ___." You replied. "What's your name, Jungkook?"

He grinned in confusion. "I see you know who I am. You don't need to ask again."

"Wait, no. Oops, forget what I said. Of course, your name is Jungkook. I had to remember it."

"You had to remember me?"

"Yeah." You nodded, then realized and said, "Wait, I know you. I mean…" You blabbered away, leaving Jungkook perplexed as he watched your glossy lips move.

It wasn't until Seokjin yelled, "Shut the fuck up and play!" Though he acted like one of the bystanders, you knew what he meant. You blinked at your mentor, then to an intimidating Jungkook whose eyes never left you.

"Are you ready to play?" Orange man said. "I'm Yoongi, by the way." That was directed towards you, but you paid no attention as your task before you had such a heavy stare it made you weak. 

"Are you ready, angel?" Jungkook asked once more for you.

"I am, but I have to tell you something." You spoke carefully, hoping you won't fuck up. "I don't know how to play."

"You don't know how to play beer pong?" He clarified what you meant, and you nodded. "If you don't know how to play, why would you challenge me?"

Your eyes grew, trying to figure out some bullshit answer. "Well…it-it looks fun. You know with throwing balls in a cup?" You said what you remembered vaguely. "I wanna try."

Jungkook hummed, slowly nodding to your reply. "You know this is a challenge, right? Also adding in that money is being betted on."

"I know!" You didn't know. "Money doesn't matter to me. I just wanna play, and maybe if anything…" You leaned in, closer to him. However, you maneuvered too fast, so half of your body slammed on the table, causing Jungkook to flinch a little at the thump. "Please teach me?"

"That was so uncomfortable. I'm leaving. Don't fuck up." Seokjin said. You glanced in his direction and disappeared before anyone could see him.

You then fluttered your gleaming eyes at your task subject. Though this move would have made Jin slap you to stop, Jungkook couldn't help but be intrigued. Maybe it was how you looked at him with those begging eyes or the tone in your lovely voice. Either way, he nodded and said, "I'll teach you, Angel. But I'm giving you a heads up." You beamed your teeth before skipping towards the opposite end of him with the table in between, waiting for him. "You can come crying into my arms when you lose."

You furrowed your brows in confusion, but without any thought, you merely nodded. "Okay, that's fine. Just teach me."

Yoongi interjected again, "Alright, people! Place your bets with our pledge, Beomgyu. Jungkook versus ___!" He pointed at two large jars that were in front of a boy. You spotted others throwing money into a pot labeled with Jungkook's name while yours was practically empty with only one bet, but it didn't really matter at this point.

"Ready when you are, JK." Orange man Yoongi finalized before stepping back.

Jungkook smirked at you, showing a faint bunny smile as he grabbed a ball. "Okay, angel. This is how you play."

He explained how the game's intent was for the players to throw the ping pong ball across a table and make it land inside the cup that had been—a type of alcohol—on the other end. Typically, there were ten cups set up in triangle formation, but as the number of cups dwindled, you could rearrange it into a straight line or triangle. You had to take turns to throw as many balls into your opponent's cup (two maximum for each turn), and if the ball did land inside, you had to consume the content inside. The person to eliminate all opponent's cups was the winner.

"You got it, angel?" He inquired after his lesson.

"Sure, I think so…" You nodded, kind of getting it. Well, not really. Every word goes from one ear to the other and floats away.

Jungkook pressed his lips into a line, "I think I should demonstrate it. Watch with your eyes, angel."

You observed the man as he stretched his limbs and neck before going into position. He dipped his ball into a cup of water on the side. He bent his knees and had a steady arm. The ball landed in a cup, then another ball went into another cup. The crowd yelled in enthusiasm as their favorite player did a double shot.

"Drink up, babe." Jungkook's arrogant aura could be seen from a hundred kilometers away. You didn't know if it turned you on or wanted him to step on you, maybe both. But nevertheless, you obliged to the game and drank the beers in four gulps. You stacked them to the side and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. "Do you get how to do it now?"

"Yes." You spoke politely. Him watching you replicated a predator waiting for its prey to make a move. It didn't make you uncomfortable but instead made you question why the fuck are you going through hoops for this fucking first task?

His instructions sounded reasonably simple, so you gave it a go. There was no conscious thought in you, so you tossed the ball. Landed. Toss. Landed again.

You hummed in pleasure before meeting Jungkook's baffled expression. "Like that?" Everyone was on pause at the moment, thinking how the hell this clueless hot bitch got it in twice?

Jungkook snapped out of it and cleared his throat. "Beginner's luck, I guess?" He shrugged, trying hard to not make it a big deal. It was his turn, and now he was committed to making you lose. He assumed you knew what to do now, so you were on your own with it. He didn't care if you were hot—well, he does, but for the sake of the game, no.

He was only able to make one in, which was fine. All is good, feeling that you won't do as well. The chances of you getting double again was rare in the game of ping po—

You got two in, and while you were drinking your losing cup. 

What the fuck?

The game continued, and truth be told, you were actually winning. You did miss a couple of times, but you had two cups left while Jungkook had four. People were rooting for you now despite the money they lost. It was because someone was better than the Jeon Jungkook and flabbergasted when there was a chance that he was going to lose his winning streak.

You felt pretty calm, in contrast to the stressed and angered human. After every turn, he grew increasingly upset at his ability and the fact that you, a hot body, were beating him. He even refused to talk to you and mumbled curses after you made a shot.

He was grateful he made two shots, making you both tie. Unfortunately, you got one in, so you had your final cup.

It was his turn again, and he was really focused as he positioned himself and took his time.

"Come on, Jungkook!" Yoongi cheered from the sidelines.

"Shut the fuck up!" Your task spat back at him that you even grimaced. 

He didn't make any, which made him punch the table, shaking the whole furniture and cups. What a nasty loser he was.

He scowled at you like an eagle, bolding his eyebrows. His tongue played with his lip ring, waiting for you to hurry it up. "Angel, what's taking long?" Though his tone sounded composed, you knew there was a poisonous ring to it.

Honestly, you wanted to get this over with, so you can at least try getting him into bed. You sighed and casually threw the balls simultaneously to make time quicker.

Two balls in one.

Something you're not getting right now but hoped for. 

There was a stillness around you as you defeated the champion. Then an uproar ripped through the air, wincing at the noise. Humans congratulated you. Even Yoongi ran up to you to hug and smell you. You awkwardly giggled, attempting to push him away, but he had quite a grip.

"The only winner who betted on ___ goes to the name of Seokjin!" Yoongi announced.

"Fucking Jin." You rolled your eyes. You had enough of Yoongi touching you. Using your super strength, you grabbed his head and pushed him off of you. He flew into the table across, ultimately breaking it down. 

While you watched the orange man in pain, you didn't notice eerily smiling Jungkook walking up to you. You only realized it when he let his hand out. You raised your head, only aware of how large he was, and took in all his features up close.

You reached his chest. His shoulders were broad and muscular, while his waist cinched tightly with a leather belt. He was literally built like a Dorito. His facial features were too unforgettable. His large rounded eyes paired with his prominent nose you wanted to sit on. Tinted pink lips pierced with a ring and glazed at sight. His arms bulged underneath that thinned blue dress shirt that should be illegal for him to wear. His tattoos followed his movement as he flexed his hand.

"Congratulations, ___." He commanded you. You peered at his hand that was in front of you. You didn't know what to do with it, but you guessed you should hold it.

You also brought your hand forward, immediately pinpointing the difference between your hands. He shook it a little, and you were about to let go, but he tugged you forward, pulling your body until it's pressed to his front. Your neck had to extend higher and was now hurting so you could look at him.

The action threw you off, so you were nervous and felt your demon heart palpitating. One had wrapped around your arm while the other held your waist. He looked down at you with a twitch and slight curve to his lips before reaching your ear and said, "I sense you were bluffing."

"H-huh?"

"You bluffed, my dear angel." He pulled back to stare at you again. If looks could kill, he'd definitely kill. Not you, though; you were a demon. "Acting like you didn't know what you were doing at beer pong, but actually did. You bluffed me."

"I really didn't play it before. I honestly had no idea what you meant other than throw ball in cup." You reasoned with a slight pout.

He didn't buy it, but the face you were making made him weak, but he didn't want you to know that. "Guess you're just good at following instructions."

You snorted, throwing your head back. "I don't know about that."

His aura didn't match your lightness. In fact, his eyes were darkened and leered into yours because he was such a sore loser he needed answers. "Then fucking tell me why you would play me. Humiliating me in front of my party." He interrogated through his teeth.

You winced when you felt his grip tighten, but not enough to not make you in danger. If he were to hurt you, you would be able to knock him out. "Fuck, Jin. Help me out!" You spoke in your head.

Sadly, the automatic reply replied, "I'm sorry. The demon you reached out to is not ava—"

You hated your mentor.

You were panicking, feeling like you weren't going to get him in bed as the conversation worsened. You needed some kind of bullshit to make his ego inflate. "I, uhh, I did it to get your attention?"

He'd be lying if he said he was surprised at your response. Of course, it had to be the reason. He actually wanted to praise you. Though he hated it, you beat him at his own game, and that was something that he would never forget.

He licked his lip and bit down his lower ones, "Really? All this for my attention, angel? You could have just asked, instead of all that hard work."

"Really?" You were in awe. You never thought about that. "Whatever, I'm shy."

"Not shy enough to do what you did back there." He decided to play with you. He released your arm to hold your soft cheek, grazing your skin with his thumb. "Just ask and I might just give it to you."

Yes, this was your chance. You could ask him to fuck you right here, but you didn't know if he liked that. He seemed to be somewhat private since you only observed sexual activity from him in a bedroom or closed area. 

"C-can we go some place more private?" You asked.

He didn't even need to say anything. All he had to do was grab your hand and lead you through and out of the crowd. As you walked upstairs with him, all your thoughts were about how you were executing this because right now, you were winging it like a fucking beast. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all…

"I fucking told you it wasn't that bad." Your mentor's voice interrupted your internal monologue, to which you refused the disrespect.

"Why are you fucking listening?"You complained.

"Well, I'm just ensuring that it's going by smoothly, duh!" He spoke. "I'll give you style points from how you were able to get him into his room though."

The opening of the door disrupted your mind conversation as Jungkook lets you go inside first. You did so before he followed behind, closing and locking the door. You inspected his room to see if there were any abnormal or normal aspects. Though you observed him, you weren't really able to see what was inside through your abilities. You weren't quite there yet.

But it was alright to know that his room was the standard layout of human men's rooms shown in training videos. Blue checked print bed sheets on a queen-sized bed, a white dresser with colognes and oil diffusers on top, a gaming desk, and a PC. Some colored lights, posters, and a display case show figurines with a guitar in the corner. 

"Nice set up you got here." You complimented. Out of nowhere, your heart began beating faster than usual. It was most likely because you felt it happening. It was anticipated in the back of your neck. The question was, just when?

"So angel, I have a small question if you don't mind answering. Well, it's more of an explanation actually." You gazed at him, seeing how he slowly paced around his room with eyes wandering around as if he had never seen his possessions before. You don't say anything for him to continue on. "The more I look at you, the more familiar you look."

You scrunched your eyebrows, then tilted your head. But he didn't give you time to respond, "Then I realized…" His piercing irises landed on you as he stepped closer and closer to you until your neck was aching at the stretch up again. "You're the one who's been watching me."

Your eyes widened. You thought you were being careful. "W-what do you mean?" You acted clueless, hoping he'd buy it.

"I mean, I feel and see your stares during lunch, class, my practices—you know you're obvious right? Sitting next to the stoners?? You're completely out of place. It's also noticeable since I've never seen you before." He listed his smirk grew by the second while you said nothing like the dumbass you were. You opened your mouth, but he spoke up, "And to answer your question, yes being never seen before is noticeable because I've seen a lot of girls and I've never seen such a hot, gorgeous, sexy angel like you before."

Was this human a mind reader? You knew he was brilliant, but damn, it hurt what little pride you had left in you.

"So tell me ___, you've been watching me like a creep, you were trying to get my attention. What is it that you want with me?"

You wanted to fuck; that's what you wanted. But the words weren't coming out, and only repetitive stammering spewed. "I-I—umm…well, you see… I-it's." You felt your cheeks heating, begging yourself to look away, but you couldn't. He affected you so much that you wanted to get lured into his nutmeg-colored irises. You stopped your stuttering and whined with a sulking frown.

"Don't get all shy with me now." He chuckled at your vulnerable state, thinking how cute you were being. "I'm asking a simple question that I'm sure you know how to answer. Now I'm gonna ask again. What do you want with me?"

You had to fight your panicking. You needed to do this; you needed to stop restricting yourself. You had to be explicit, but too much, a little subtle. But most importantly, you must be confident. "I-I-I wanted you to teach me." Fucking smooth like butter with the confidence.

Now it was his turn to be confused, mimicking your puzzled expressions. "Teach you what?"

You cleared your throat before continuing, "You—you know how you, like, get around, like fuck other girls?" You stated. He kept silent as you pointed out the facts. "I was wondering if you could…teach me…how to fuck?" Once that sentence came out of you, you regretted saying it. Teach you how to fuck, really? If anything, it should have been the other way around, dumbass. "I don't know this sounds so stupid. I'm so sorr—"

You stopped talking when he let out a hardy laugh. You could feel his solid chest bouncing, pressing further into your front. "Angel, angel, angel. You're such a cute one." He shook his head and sighed. He wrapped his strong hands around your hips, lightly squeezing them. "Like I said, all you have to do is ask."

"Really?" You questioned, eyes bulging in glee. "Then fuck me, please? I want it now!"

He liked how excited you were, sounding desperate as you went through bridges just for dick. But hey, he wasn't complaining. This was going to be fun for him. "I would be glad to, but, you have to earn it." His arrogant smirk dropped into a stoic frightening glare. "Get down on your knees, slut."

Okay, that was out of pocket. He sounded so serious, but go off. You blinked back, "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, Jungkook?"

"No, no, you short bitch. It's sir to you." Your jaw dropped at the insult, but you just went with it, hoping this would be over soon.

"Okay, sir. Sorry, sir." You muttered, and your tone made Jungkook annoyed. He threaded through your hair and pushed you down to the ground. You huffed as you steadied on your knees. However, you were too short, so he had to maneuver you both until he sat on his gaming chair, legs wide open. His crotch leveled with your head. You observed how it was growing harder without even being touched.

"What, you don't know how to give a blow job?" Your task snarled, thinking you were so eager yet so naive. He held your strands, bringing you closer to him.

You actually didn't know how to, despite being a fucking succubus. You kinda skipped that course practice as well as the sex toy lessons Seokjin scheduled for you. It wasn't your fault that they consistently landed on the same day Lilith and her team gave out free slushies.

But being clueless about this, you had to reach for help. "Seokjinnie!! My favorite mentor in all realms. Please help me now!!!" You begged through your mind.

"Hello, Succubus hotline. Darling, you are live." Seokjin chirped from the other side.

"I have to suck a dick and I don't know how! I'm just staring at his crotch and I'm afraid to look up because I know he's sneering at me."

"This is what you get for missing your lessons!" He scolded. "Why don't you go on with your 'teach me' method."

"My angel, are you deaf? Do you not know how to give a blow job?" Jungkook growled, tugging on your head and making you hiss in ache.

"I told you I wanted you to teach me, sir." You pouted. "Please teach me how to please you, sir."

Jungkook's expression softened at the sight of you, but it wasn't enough to wipe off the harsh demeanor he gave you. "Fine, I'll teach you. Just unzip me first, the fabric is chaffing my dick." He commanded, keeping his contact on you.

"Damn, he's vicious." Seokjin heard Jungkook speak.

You nodded and said, "Yes, sir." At least you were compliant. You unbuckled his pants and threw his belt to the side before unzipping his pants. He scooted himself up as you yanked down the fabric until it reached his knees. You spotted his bulge trying to escape his boxers. The view of the darkened wet spot made you drip down your cunt. You pulled them down, revealing his prized possession before sitting back down.

It was a given that humans weren't as big as incubi or other creatures, but Jungkook was definitely up there in the biggest you've seen. His cock looked heavy and unusually on the thicker side. He had three distinct veins, the most evident ranging from the base to the tip on the middle left. His mushroom head was aching red, oozing with pearlized pre-cum. Your succubus senses were coming in, and you could practically smell the sex seeping out of him.

You wanted to touch him, so you did without thinking. You practically manhandled it, causing him to cringe in pain. "You stupid slut, don't just grab it like that! What's wrong with you?!!"

His complaints were similar to those from Seokjin. The only difference was that it turned you on and secreted your essence onto your panties. "I'm sorry, sir."

He groaned, lightly rubbing your head with his thumb. "I want you to lick the head first." He instructed, waiting for you to move. You nodded before obliging. With your warm tongue, you dainty licked the reddening head from one side to the other to the leaking slit.

"Hey, try sucking on the top. Don't do it like a lollipop, kinda like you're gulping your spit. Swirl your tongue." Seokjin recommended, and you took any advice he gave. You did what he said, earning a satisfying growl from your task.

 "Fuck." Jungkook moaned. "Like that, angel. Your mouth is so warm and soft."

The slight praise made your eyes light up red. Fortunately, Jungkook's head was thrown back, and your normal eyes returned. You rolled your tongue over him and suckled on it.

"Use your hand. Don't squeeze tight, but have it firm." He implored. You again followed, stroking his shaft, even grazing the long vein to which he whined hard. You felt your original form attempting to break out, but you forced yourself to not do so as the act of sex was present.

"I think you're getting it. I think you should be fine. I wish to no longer help you. It's all on you know." Seokjin announced happily, but you weren't.

"Wait, Seokjin, please stay. I need support." You pleaded.

"It's your task, little one. I can only go far with guiding. You should know what to do!" He answered. "Plus I refuse to see you fuck someone. I don't want nightmares."

"Please, I'll even surrender and say the phrase—"

"Bye, darling!!"

"Seokjin, you have a massive demon dick that I wanna fuck!" You were supposed to say it in your head, but judging by the uncomfortable silence in the atmosphere and the deadly stare Jeon Jungkook gave you, you actually didn't.

His anger spewed out of him as his nostrils flared and the sides of his lips twitched. If he had tried, he would have had steam coming out of his ears. You still held his throbbing dick, but your mouth wasn't on him anymore. The way he looked at you made you smaller than you already were. Your next steps into this were nonexistent, unknowing what to do but knowing it was never a good sign when you call the wrong name in bed.

"What the fuck did you say?" He seethed, his voice going an octave lower.

"Uhh…Jungkook, you have a massive demon dick that I wanna fuck?" You snickered awkwardly and uneasily.

He still had a grip on your hair, fastened his hold, and used it to pull you up to meet his enraged face. You whimpered as your heart rushed into your chest. "You didn't say my name. Who the fuck is Seokjin?"

"I-I-I…" You had no answer. You were blanking out, so all you did was shrug. "I'm sorry, sir."

Jungkook coerced a patronizing laugh, "I don't think you're sorry. Perhaps you're just another stupid little girl, unable to remember anything."

"Maybe…"

"Well, angel." He leaned forward, and with his other hand, he grasped your cheeks and squeezed them together for your mouth to open up. "I'm gonna make you remember nothing but my name."

Before you could even respond, he pushed your head down and slammed his enormous cock down your mouth and deep into your throat. Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets, and you groaned around his dick from the sudden movement. Both of his hands were in your hair. He didn't give you time to adjust as he bobbed your head up and down his length, hoping you were gagging. 

But you were a succubus. There was no gag reflex. Your hands were on the sides of his thighs for support. Your lips caressed his wet cock while your tongue laid flat under the heaviness. Tears breached through your tear ducts at the amount of pain yet pleasure you were receiving. You mewled with each thrust, even gulping all the saliva and pre-cum emitted.

You were messy, and he could tell you weren't experienced in this, but he relished how easily submissive you were. He pondered how far you were willing to go with him because he had a few things to do with stupid and naive yet sweet and kind girls like you.

"God, your mouth is good." He moaned, and though he mentioned a being that didn't like your kind, you weren't really caring. You wanted sex. You needed it. Your senses were begging to come out, but you weren't ready for it. Your mind and body fought against each other as a fat cock was in your mouth.

One hand unraveled off of your hair and brushed down your body. It was a plus that you were tinier than his usuals. He literally was able to reach your ass at an arm's length. He pulled the end of your dress-up to reveal your black thong. He stretched further to meet your soaked middle. You were practically dripping through the thin waste of fabric, so he pushed them to the side.

You whined at the feeling, getting slowly impatient with the act. You were getting weaker by the second, your mind slowly becoming a puddle.

"Fuck, you're so fucking wet." He slotted a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness. He passed through your perineum and landed on your puckered anus, rubbing circles around the rim. The slight action surprised you, gasped in a frenzy, accidentally biting his duck. He heaved painfully, ready to punish you but something unexpected happened because say goodbye to your hold on yourself because you were free and released.

Out came your familiar burgundy wings blooming out your back and ripping through the dress with your matching tail slithering out your tailbone. Your little horns emerged from your head that completed your succubus form. It didn't help that you were unaware of what happened to you. But Jungkook did.

He watched it happening, and he was fucking terrified.

"Holy fuck!" He pushed you off by the shoulders, distancing himself from you. He wheeled himself back with his chair, shaking like a wet kitten with enlarged pupils at what he witnessed. "Ahhh, get away from me!"

"What, what happened?" You questioned his horrific expression. But you answered your own question when you felt your tail swiveling around and noticed how you were elevated off the ground.

You cursed under your breath at your big mistake. You weren't supposed to reveal yourself to a human, especially when you were still in training. It was a safety precaution if other creatures in the realms roamed on Earth and caught you in your act.

The trauma in his eyes was still evident and nearly consuming his entire being as he was unaware that his dick was still out and hard. You needed to settle him, so he won't panic, and you could continue getting him into bed.

"Calm down, please?" You floated towards him with your palms out to indicate no harm. But he wasn't having it as he attempted scooting further away from you.

"I'm not fucking calming down, you fucking freak troll. Get away from me!"

You gasped at his intensive insult, going too far for your liking. You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest. "Excuse me! Not even a minute ago, your dick was down my "warm and soft" throat. Just because I have wings and tails doesn't mean I'm not any different from the person you met."

You were sulky and knitting your eyebrows together. Even if he was in a state of distress, he thought you were still cute and sexy. But he really wanted to know what the hell was happening.

He gulped and lifted his trembling hand to point at your new features. "A-are those real?"

You looked behind you to understand that he was asking about your wings or really anything that wasn't human-looking. "Yes."

"Really? No, you're lying! What?! How?" He threw many questions, completely baffled at this. Sure, you were floating right in front of his naked eyes, but he could have gotten pranked. He did have a controversial reputation. 

You shrugged, "I'm not gonna lie, although it would have been better if you didn't know." You whined in annoyance, picturing the future for you. "Fuck, I'm gonna get into trouble!"

"Well, now I know, and I want to leave." He was about to get up, but you went closer to him, and his initial response was cowering away from you.

"Wait, don't leave!" You begged, pressing your palms flat in front of your face as you looked down. 

"Okay, then you leave! You're in my room anyway." He demanded. "I don't want some weird as—"

"Wait, please! Let me explain!" You decided to be truthful and hoped you could still get what you wanted. It seemed like the only thing you could have done. 

Jungkook contemplated your request. He still had no idea what was going on and exactly where you were, but he concluded that you weren't a human and wouldn't kill him. You held your airhead aura and cluelessness so high, murdering him wasn’t coming to your head at all.

So he decided to stay silent and waited for you to explain. He nodded, cueing you, to which you sighed in relief. 

Knowing Seokjin abandoned you and would have probably killed you if he found out what you did, you were actually grateful you had to do this on your own for once. First of all, you disclosed that you were a succubus in training. You described your entire situation and how you came into the human world before revealing that he was your first task and that you needed to have sex with him. 

"I know it sounds crazy, but it really isn't. Succubi and other creatures are conscious about humans and your folklore and supernatural beliefs, so we stay hidden…for the most part." You joked a little to lighten the mood. However, when he didn't reciprocate it back, you stopped. "Look, I mean no harm. Well, I could kill you…" He cocked an eyebrow at you and gasped quietly. "But I won't! I don't have all my succubus powers. I didn't even have the mental capacity when I was assigned to you. I still am not! So please, help me out. I promise I'll get out of your hair once this is over. I'll even provide a cupcake!"

His deafening silence shot your anxiety through the roof. You didn't want to fail this. You didn't want to go through this process again. It happened many times in the past, and you certainly didn't want it to repeat. You wished he accepted you. It couldn't be that bad, but not every day someone saw a real-life succubus in action.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the blank-faced Jungkook stood from his chair, fists clenching on each side of him. Fuck, you don't think this was going to end well.

But to your surprise, he stomped his way to your levitating stature. You weren't that high up. In fact, you met his height, leveling with his face. He shortened the distance between you two before raising his hand to slap your face. 

You winced in pain, holding your gradually reddened cheek. You were about to protest when you gazed into his eyes. You felt his demeanor become malicious. His jaw clenched, sharpening his feature. He rolled his tongue across his teeth as he snatched your hair with one hand and your leg with the other. He threw your form on the bed with a harsh thud, laying you on your stomach. 

"Wait, Jun—"

He slapped your ass to shut you up before he used his strength to rip your dress completely into shreds, throwing it to the side. You gasped, feeling the cold air brushing through your skin. "Shut up, you fucking whore, and it's sir!" He spanked the same place to which you hissed in pleasure. "Get on all fours or else I'll punish you."

You simply followed directions in fear yet enthusiasm as you were going to get laid in the night. You mentally cried in joy, but this wasn't what you were excepting.

Lastly, he destroyed your thong, finally leaving you in nothing. With your position, he could clearly see your rounded, plumped ass, tail swaying side to side, and wings wagging endearingly. Jungkook groaned at such an erotic sight before him, something completely new but not at all disgusted.

His fingers strolled across your body, roaming from the curve of your spine down to your hips and then the flesh of your ass. He was careful not to touch your succubus qualities just yet. "So you were basically made to be a slut?"

"Sir, I-I'm not a slut!"

"Huh, you literally told me you were a sex demon and doesn't that mean you fuck for a living?" He provoked with a smirk creeping up on his ruthless demeanor.

You pondered at the thought, "Well, when you put it that way—"Slap! You inhaled intensively as you heard and felt the sharp spank on your nether lips. 

"Don't fucking talk back to me." He quarreled, giving you another slap, to which you groaned and bit your lips to ease the soreness. You refused to say stop because he riled you up in ways you haven't experienced before. "You're gonna be a good little slut and take what I give you. Understood?"

"Y-yes, sir."

Without warning, he flipped you on your back with a bounce to your landing. You could get a good look at him—holy hell, he was absolutely captivating with his intense intimidating gaze on you. You didn't even notice that he stripped his clothes off in mere seconds of not seeing him. You didn't feel nervous or scared. Warmth spread across your body as your eyes danced around his toned muscular torso. That was definitely a sight you wanted to see again.

You watched as Jungkook climbed over your body and straddled on top of your shoulders until his weeping cock was right in front of your face. The slit leaked his translucent fluids, dripping down his lengthy shaft. Some of it landed on top of your décolletage. 

"Open your mouth." He ordered, lacing his fingers through your hair. His dick poked your cheeks and nostrils, then swiped his swollen tip on your lips like he applied lip balm. You stared back at it as you licked your lips, then opened it wide for him. He pushed the head in your mouth with a hefty groan. You latched on, puckering your lips around the thickness. He lightly tugged on your strands, urging you to look up and stare. There you were with your dark, lust-filled eyes, waiting for anything he commands. Fuck, he thought he won the golden ticket.

"Look at me when I fuck your small mouth." He said before snapping his hips forward, letting his cock disappear inside you. You groaned around him as your eyes glowed crimson before returning to their normal color. Though he was frightened, he noticed no suspicious activity, so he continued on, making a harsh yet slow pace with his thrusts.

Your esophagus wrapped around him, throbbing with each stroke. The moans coming out of you sounded like you were drowning. The tears running down your face with your eyes bloodshot exhilarated him to go even faster. His tip stabbed the very end of your tender throat continuously. You were aching, but it felt sooooo good.

Using his unused hand, he reached behind him to get you more stimulated until he felt your sticky puffy petals. Just a singular swipe through caused your hips to jerk towards his finger, wanting more pressure on it. Your minuscule doing doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook when he lets out a chuckle. "You're a needy little angel." You hummed noncommittally, vibrations stimulating his cock. "Be a good one and suck my cock. I'll give you what you want." You eagerly nodded that Jungkook's lips twitched at your adorableness. He wondered how you were a succubus yet acting like this. 

"Don't go too hard, but hollow your cheeks around them." He instructed you. You did what he said despite not knowing if you were doing it right. But with the louder groans that left his mouth, you felt confident. "Fucking good demon." He praised, and pearls of your wetness came out of you. "Ahh, you like that, don't you? Filthy slut likes getting praised."

While he thrusts, you hollowed your cheeks and suckled through the length as it went in and out of you. He played with your sodden folds, yet cautious to not touch your clit to tease you. You whimpered, begging with your eyes. Your fingers gripped onto his sheets as you got impatient.

Jungkook pushed himself into your mouth, pressing harder into your throat. Though you had no gag reflex, you surprisingly gagged around his cock, producing more saliva around and down your chin. "You take what you get." He pulled out, and as he was about to go back in, he quickly slid two of his thick fingers in your pussy.

You moaned with your eyes rolling back, feeling the rush of pleasure all over you that you couldn't help but reach your high quicker than usual. He felt your walls convulse around his appendages. You weren't back down from your high when he aggressively pulled back, causing you to fuss around. 

"Dumb little demon, you came without permission." He smacked your overly sensitive cunt, to which you sobbed. He raised his fingers up to his lips to slurp up your cum, even moaning at the sweet taste. His cock withdrew from your red drooling lips. You had a breather, gazing at him with your fucked up expression. He hissed in astonishment, enjoying the way you looked.

He got off you before grabbing your form and scooting his head between your legs. He sniffed. "Fine, if you're so needy, I'm gonna make you cum." So with that, he licked a strip of your petals and jammed two fingers into your hole. You screamed and arched your back at the pressure.

You couldn't do anything but wrap your fingers into his ebony locks. Your mewls amplified through the room when he reached your breast to pinch and twist your nub. He attacked your cunt with his mouth before wrapping around your clit. He listened to your sounds as he curled his fingers until he found your spot.

"S-sir!" You wept, feeling another knot forming in your stomach. "C-c-can I—"

"Cum, bitch." He didn't have to tell you twice as you felt the rush of familiar warmth spread through your limbs, quivering like a damn dog in wet water. Jungkook guided you through your bliss, unlike last time. However, when you assumed you would only feel the aftershocks, Jungkook continued his actions, letting you wince at the overstimulation.

"W-wait!"

"Nope!" You felt him smirking at your pussy before going back to devouring it. Oh no, you were reaching another high. Your orgasms were like going on a rollercoaster; you were up and down, up and down, but you weren't getting off of it any time soon. You came again, and again, and again, and again until you begged him off of you.

Tears streamed down your inflamed horny face. You breathed heavily, chest rising and your body frail and feeble. You weren't as weak. In fact, you could go more rounds, but you were—in Seokjin's words—lazy as fuck that your strength went down to the ability of a human.

Through heavy eyes, you glimpsed at Jungkook, who tried licking all your cum around his lips before wiping it from the back of his hand. "So…" He lapped his hand messily. The taste was so addicting; was it cherry-flavored? "As a succubus, what can you do?"

"What do you mean?" You rasped and cringed at your voice.

 "Like do you have powers? Anything to spice up sex?"

You needed a moment to think. Sometimes you forgot you were a succubus until Jin had to hit your horns and chase you down, which caused you to fly away. Catching your breath, you answered, "I can, uh, I can morph my body into what you like? Like, I can grow my boobs, change my personality, have fur on my body, I don't know whatever you're into."

He hummed mindlessly, "Just the way you are is fine." You didn't know why his sentence made your stomach flutter with insects. It was all tingling and friendly. "But I do want you to accept my kinks."

You nodded, "Which is…"

He snatched your body and turned you like a spinning top so that you looked at him upside down while his cock was still displayed in front of you. He couldn't see your face, only your body. He didn't bother to tell you as he held your jaw unhinged and rammed himself in your mouth as fast as a human could. You gulped and gagged around him, but when he shoved his fingers again in your red petals, you squealed so much with everything happening to you. 

He could see your throat down to your spreading, shaking legs. His cock bulged through your throat, making his ego increase. His balls swatted your face. Your tail squirmed from under while your wings were being squished in between you and the bed. There was no time for adjustments. He wanted to get himself off.

His strokes were aching hard, making you cry with the amount of pressure. His appendages making your cunt yell. You couldn't even do anything, just letting him, have you. "Stupid fucking angel only good for cock. Well, actually you suck at head. I don't think you're gonna pass…"

Your pupils dilated. "No!!" You spoke with your muffled mouth and shook your head. You refused to fail, and somehow you believed his words.

"The fucked whore wants to pass?" You nodded your head vigorously and whined. "Well, if you can satisfy me." His pace was now instant, and your body reacted well to his liking. You noticed him getting sloppy while he quickened his fingers deep in you.

It was only a matter of time until he slammed into your mouth again, and the gush of his cum splashed down your throat. You gargled and sobbed profoundly, also meeting another round of ecstasy. But only this time, a stream of your fluids leaked out, surprising your task.

"Fuck." He grunted as your mouth milked him. Once you both came down, he pulled out and saw the whites in your mouth. It was a sexy view for him, but you amped it up when you gargled it and gulped it down, showing your now clean mouth.

He was still hard, and he wanted more from you. He was greedy, greedier than usual, so he held your waist and flipped you again like a rag doll, putting you on your hands and knees. You were so small. He liked it so much to throw you around. 

He caressed your plumped ass and stretched apart your cheeks, showcasing your asshole and puffed cunt. The ends of his mouth curled upwards. He wanted a closer look at your puckered hole, but your cute tail wagged happily, blocking his way.

"This fucking tail is in the way." He tugged on it, and that's your nerves triggered. 

Your pupils dilated, producing a bit of froth in the corners of your mouth. You yelped aloud as if you were in pain. "Ahhh, no!"

His smile dropped with big eyes. He feared he hurt you, maybe even past your limits. Though you were a sex demon, he didn't really know much about your kind. "A-are you okay, ___?" He lets go of your end.

You sniffled before glancing behind your shoulder with your pout. He could have sworn your face made him feel all different kinds of emotions. "It's sensitive…"

He quirked an eyebrow at you, then at your still limb. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around it and rubbed it down gently. He noticed your right eye twitch and inhaled sharply before moaning softly. His attention shifted down your spilling pussy, realizing it was your g-spot. 

"So you like that, angel?" His arrogance shined through his growing smirk and your writhing. "Of course, you do. How about your wings?" His other hand went for your fluttering wings, making you yell in a higher pitch.

"Sir, too much!!" This was really testing your limits. Humans never touched succubi or even incubi's wings as it showed weakness. If they did, the sex demons would kill them off the bat because your kind was supposed to be dominants.

He held onto your tail and wings before positioning his tip with your hole. He played with your clit as you squealed to secrete more wetness. Once he thought it was enough, he slowly pressed his length inside of you. The head was the thickest part of him, and you thought he would have mercy on you.

But you thought wrong.

In one go, his dick impaled into your cervix. You screamed bloody murder at the aching stretch to your wrecked walls. He didn't bother for you to adjust as his penetrations were rampant and harsh. You gasped for air, fisting the sheets under you as he played with your tail, stroking its length and then pinching its pointed end.

"You love having my human dick inside of your demon pussy?" He ridiculed, and you didn't bother to wipe off the arrogant smile on him. You barely could speak, so you blabbered nonsense and nodded. "You're going stupider than you already are!" Your arm reached behind without thought, trying to grab anything. He intertwined your fingers together to keep you in place.

However, he also roughly yanked your tail, which led you to see sounds in the nose as you went back into an orgasm. Your body acted like a screenshot as the pleasure impacted your veins. Your pussy gripped tightly around his cock while he eased you through it. What shocked him was the fact that the end of your tail sprayed cum into his face. It made him flinch, but it gave him an idea that made his smirk wider.

He enveloped his lips around your tail's end and sucked off the fluids. You went into a flurry of raptures, and small pumps of orgasms came your way. You squeaked and throbbed all over, crying buckets at the pain. You couldn't handle it anymore. You were breaking.

"E-en-enough, sir." You mewled, shoving your head into the pillow to lessen your cries. His tongue twisted around your end, earning a long wail from you. "Pl-please!" He popped off your tail, pleased with his doings. While still inside of you, he tossed you on your back once more, revealing your drained, perspiring figure.

"You're beautiful." You couldn't hear him as there was an ongoing ringing in your eardrums. But he guided your arms around his neck and pulled you closer to him. He clutched onto your waist firmly that you know there'll be marks the following days. He fucked you harder, literally rearranging your insides while gawking at you.

Your tits bouncing all over your chest, hearing the sloshing of where you both met, your noises that should be the number one song on Billboard Top 100. Your sobbing and tears were drugs to him, becoming addicted in the short span of knowing you. He couldn't get enough of it. 

You had your tongue out and flapping around, hoping it could get you more oxygen in your lungs, but Jungkook begged to differ.

"Open your mouth." Like a true submissive, you did it. He gathered so much saliva and spat a glob onto your tongue. Not needing him to tell you, you swallowed it and breathed heavily. He grunted before placing his face in the crevice of your neck. He tongued on the surface, creating darkened hickeys all over.

"Please, hurry, sir." You admitted defeat, wanting this to be over already. You could barely even grip around him without trembling. Why were you such a fucking weakling? 

"Almost there, angel. I promise." After three pumps, he finally painted your insides white. He whined into your ear, nibbling on your lobe. Ropes after ropes as your cunt milked him dry. The feeling of his cum sparked you once again as you had your final high. Being as sensitive as ever, your tail sprinkled your cum over the both of you as if it was rain. Your eyes illuminated rubies and absorbed the semen into your body, accidentally draining some of Jungkook's life out, but he didn't notice it as he thought he was too fucked out.

"Fuck, you're so good for me." Jungkook exhaled, lifting his head from your neck to see your broken state. Without thought, which he never does, he leaned forward to kiss your lips innocently. You assumed it was a sort of gratitude. 

You tried kissing him back, but you didn't want to move. You felt dead like you were going to die. Your energy was nonexistent and probably won't be back until the following year. Yet you wanted to cheer as you finally completed your task. But fuck, Seokjin was going to be mad at what you did.

Oh, well. That was a problem for another time. Right now, all you wanted to do was pass out and fall asleep for seven years.

-

"Congratulations on completing your first task!" Seokjin said elatedly as he threw confetti at your face. You were finally back in your realm, specifically Seokjin's office, after three weeks of being in your dorm. After finishing your task, you left Jungkook, and the human realm before their sun rose. You wanted to get out and finally be in the comfort of your room as you recovered from the night.

You were going to lie because it was honestly incredible, almost too much for your liking. No creature ever got you off like that, and you were bewildered when a human man made you cum in ways you didn't think about before. Though it was a task, you don't believe another job will get your cum like Jungkook did. You pondered on that thought while viewing your mentor frolicking around his space, continuing to throw confetti that you knew he'd tell you to clean up.

"Only 99 more to go!" He announced as he smiled. "Well, actually…you did complete a couple more since this subject had a remarkable history of interests."

You shrugged and brushed it off. You floated on his desk and hovered above as you crisscrossed your legs. "Yeah, hooray for me. Seokjin, I have a question or two, maybe even three."

"Yes, my little mentee? I'm so happy. Even the highers are raving ab—"

"With my other tasks, does it always have to be a different subject?" You questioned, interrupting Seokjin's glee.

Your mentor tilted his head in wonder. He hummed, "Well, it's recommended to have different subjects to gain knowledge of the variety. But most of the time, no, except like three tasks, only because you need another p—"

"Perfect, can I have Jungkook as my task helper?"

"What?!?!?"

-

It has been over a month since Jungkook last saw you. He woke up to an empty cold side of his bed with all the traces of you disappearing overnight. At first, he didn't bother to care. He usually kicked the girls out of his room once it was over or when he'd wake up. Your departure helped him out a lot. But with you…you…well, you were a demon, so of course, you were different.

Though he went on with his life, even continuing his fuck boy streak, he couldn't stop thinking about you. He didn't want to be honest with himself, but he wanted to see around campus. But he knew it wouldn't happen since you were a succubus. It was all for your training, and that was it.

Maybe it was the way you looked, how you acted, or just perhaps you were not human. He couldn't comprehend why he thought like this. Perhaps you injected some potion that caused him to lowkey simp for you. But after the brief encounter, he knew you weren't as bright to do that to him.

Whatever, the point is that you were unforgettable in his brain, and he only wished to see you again but knew it wasn't going to happen. 

He sat at a coffee shop, trying to do some work before his partner for his class showed up. As he was too focused on his screen, he didn't notice someone sitting opposite of him until they cleared their throat. Though a bit irritated by the disruption, he eventually looked up and lost breath.

You were in the flesh—gorgeous and alluring flesh—smiling at his baffled state. He stared with round, wide eyes with his lips slightly parted. No words can describe how he was feeling, but he knew that he liked that you were back. Millions of questions and sentences ran through his head. He wanted to say so much to you, but you beat him to it.

But not with a hello, not how he was feeling, but—

"Sir, do you think you could teach me again?

A/N: Sequel Here!

[scary-grace]

Opposites Attract (Chapter 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your quirk lets you capture almost anyone with ease, and you can't believe you let Shigaraki Tomura escape. Shigaraki can't believe it, either, and according to the League, there's only one possible explanation -- you let him go because you've fallen in love with him. He decides to find out if it's true. You decide you won't fail to capture him again. You both get a lot more than you bargained for. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2

Chapter 2

It’s been two weeks since the League of Villains vs Kamino Ward: Round 2, and there hasn’t been a single day that somebody hasn’t read you the riot act. It wasn’t enough that Miruko did it on-scene, well within microphone range of every single news crew who swarmed the park – every senior hero in Yokohama got in on it, too. And as if it wasn’t already your worst week ever, the HPSC called you in for a formal review of your pro hero license. You didn’t sleep at all the night before, and when you got to the hearing half an hour early with sweat stains already oozing through your one nice blouse, you found out that they’d done the review already, and the hearing was just to present the findings. One of the members of the committee mentioned that you looked a little pale. In hindsight, you’re amazed you didn’t have a heart attack.

You found out that the review of your license was a PR thing more than anything else – although your choices weren’t popular or flashy, nothing about how you handled the incident fell outside the hero code. Not that it matters to the general public. If you had an agency, they’d be booking you on podcasts and talk shows so you could explain yourself, but you’re underground, so you’re stuck listening to TV presenters who’ve never met a villain and podcasters who’d piss themselves if they came face to face with even the pettiest of criminals, all talking about how badly you blew it. There was even a petition circling demanding that you make a public apology for what happened to the All Might statue – one apology to the sculptor who made the statue, and one to All Might himself. When that one started making the rounds, you set your social media accounts to private and hid from your phone for the next three days.

Things are starting to die down, you think, but you’ve still got one stop left on your humiliation tour, and it’s the one you’re dreading the most. Your alma mater is always looking for learning experiences to offer their students, so you’re spending this afternoon at UA, listening while the first-year hero students pick apart every action you took in Kamino Park.

It’s an open forum, so everyone who wants to run their mouth gets a chance to do it, and you sit stonefaced in your chair, praying for your composure to hold. Eraserhead said he’d give you chances to respond, and he does, every time a student sits down. But you don’t want to get into a back-and-forth with a bunch of kids. You did what you did. You can’t go back. Maybe they can learn from what you did wrong.

What did you do wrong, actually? The HPSC cleared you. You’re so unpopular right now that they’d seize any chance they got to strip your licenses, but they cleared you – and you’re still here, listening to a bunch of teenagers take shots at you. The unfairness boils up inside you all at once, and when the next kid sits down, you stand up before Eraser invites you to.

“You all think you could have done better than me out there,” you start. “Maybe you’re right. There are always things that could be done better. What did I do wrong?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Are you stupid or something?” Bakugou asks you. “They got away! That’s what you did wrong!”

“Is it? Kurogiri and Shigaraki got away at USJ, and again at Kamino the first time. I don’t see you lighting All Might’s ass up,” you shoot back. Bakugou makes an affronted sound. “Answer me for real this time. What was my actual, quantifiable mistake?”

It’s quiet for another beat. Eraser opens his mouth, but Class B’s teacher speaks up first. “That’s the more interesting question,” he says. “We’ve talked about how Skynet could have done better. What actual mistake did Skynet make that led to the final outcome of the incident?”

You know what it was, deep in your heart, and you also know that the only person who could call you on it is somebody you hope you never see again. A hand creeps up, and Vlad calls on the student – one of Eraser’s. “Yes, Midoriya?”

“I don’t know if I would call it a mistake,” Midoriya says, “but I was wondering – why didn’t you use more of your quirk?”

That’s a new one. You wait quietly, and Midoriya elaborates. “I mean, Magnetism has dozens of applications. You’re sort of known for being creative with how you use it. And r/herojapan did a power ranking of every active hero and you ranked the highest out of all non-charted heroes.”

That’s news to you. “So I guess that’s what I want to know,” Midoriya concludes. “If you have a quirk with a lot of applications and a lot of power to work with, how could the League of Villains escape?”

“Uh –” You glance at Vlad King, then at Eraserhead. They both gesture for you to go on. “What you said about my quirk – you’re right. I can go big with it. But the bigger I go with it, the less control I have, and I’m not creating magnetic fields out of thin air. I’m enhancing and altering what already exists. Every magnetic field I alter is touching another one, and my alterations affect those fields, too. If I want to use my quirk safely on a large scale, I have to alter some magnetic fields while stabilizing others simultaneously, and I have to do that while protecting civilians and assisting my fellow heroes and trying not to get killed. Using my quirk on the scale I would have needed at Kamino just isn’t possible.”

You can tell Midoriya doesn’t get it. Nobody else does, either. “Maybe you should demonstrate,” the girl from Class B who can make her hands enormous says. “Show us what would have happened if you used your quirk the way Midoriya is talking about at Kamino.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Vlad says. “Ground Beta should be open right now. Let’s go.”

Vlad was your homeroom teacher in your first year at UA. You’ve been struggling not to call him sensei since you set foot on campus, and you know he knows how much you’ve struggled with your quirk. You also knew he was going to support you, but you’re not sure you like how he’s doing it – proving that you’re right, sure, but proving it by proving that you can’t handle your quirk at even partial strength, when the way you were using your quirk wasn’t even the real problem. If you had reacted faster, gotten a solid grip on Shigaraki through other means instead of getting distracted by how not-okay he is, you’d have held all the cards by the time the warp villain came to play. You’d like to see the warp villain try to back you into a corner when you’ve got a piece of rebar wrapped around Shigaraki’s throat.

But you didn’t have your shit together, because you were too stuck on just how shocked Shigaraki looked when you asked if he was okay. Not fake-shocked, not mocking-shocked, not look-at-the-hypocritical-hero-pretending-to-care shocked – truly, honestly shocked, like you’re the first person who’s asked him that question in a while. You flatly refuse to entertain the thought that you’re the first person who’s ever asked him that, because that would be too goddamn sad and you’re not into woobifying villains. You know more than a few heroes who have those romance novels about getting captured and ravished by a not-bad-just-misunderstood villain hanging out on their e-readers, and that’s not your style at all. So why did it bother you, seeing that look on Shigaraki’s face? Why are you still thinking about it two weeks later?

You shake it off as you, Eraser, Vlad, and the students reach Ground Beta. If you don’t want anybody to guess how you actually messed up, you need to do a good job proving that their idea of your mistake is the right one.

Vlad sets up a target a quarter of a mile down Ground Beta’s main street – the distance from one end of Kamino Park to the other – then makes his way back to you and the others. Eraserhead ushers everybody away from you. “Okay,” you say, projecting your voice, “I’m going to show you what it would have looked like for me to use my quirk to drag the League of Villains to me from across Kamino Park.”

Part of you is tempted to just blow it. Use your quirk recklessly, without worrying about consequences or property damage or anything but how it feels to finally let loose. But you’re a hero. You need to set a good example, not give the students even more reasons to question why you still have your license, and even here, there’s a chance that using your quirk at full strength isn’t safe. You get set, feeling the stabilizers in your boots anchor you to the ground. You tap into your metal sense, identifying the target a quarter mile away. Then you extend your hand, activate your quirk as precisely as you can manage, and pull.

The practice target starts moving. Unfortunately, so does everything else. No matter how hard you try to keep your focus on the target and only the target, metal fragments in the concrete lurch upwards, responding to your shift in the magnetic fields, pulling the street apart. The buildings on either side crumple inwards as their steel frameworks tear free. Lightposts bend into impossible shapes. Manhole covers lift from the street and fly towards you, forcing you to employ your other hand to stop them from striking the students behind you. The air vibrates. And sure, the practice target is flying towards you at high speed – but the destruction you’re wreaking on everything in between you and it is worse than what anyone but Shigaraki could have done to Kamino Memorial Park.

You let your grip on the magnetic fields fall when the target’s within thirty feet or so, and let momentum do the rest. Then you turn back towards the students. “This looks bad, right? If I’d done this at Kamino, it would be even worse. Anybody want to guess why?”

“Water mains,” the girl from 1-A with the Creation quirk says at once. You nod. “Cities are full of underground infrastructure, and most of that is made of metal. If your quirk is hard to focus narrowly at a distance from the target, you could do billions of yen worth of property damage.”

“What about people?” the electricity kid from 1-A says – the electricity kid who, if you remember right, also has a wide-range quirk. “Do they get caught when you do that?”

“No,” you say. “I have to be at close range to manipulate the iron in someone’s body. And they have to have enough iron in their bloodstream to make it possible.”

You say that, cringe, and brace yourself for what must be coming – one of the students, probably Midoriya, realizing that Shigaraki’s weapons-grade anemia is what kept him out of your reach at first. Followed by one of the students, probably Midoriya, asking why you didn’t use any of the other means at your disposal to capture him. “Oh,” the electricity kid says instead. “I get it now.”

“I have a question, Skynet,” Bakugou says loudly. “Couldn’t you do all that without destroying everything if you trained your quirk harder?”

You asked yourself that question a lot when you were a student at UA. The theoretical answer was always yes. “No,” you say, without getting into all the reasons why. “Does anyone else have a question?”

A Class B student named Honenuki has a question about what types of property you should avoid damaging if possible, and a Class B student named Monoma wants to know whether you were in Class A or Class B when you were at UA. He looks pretty happy when you say Class B, which is weird. You’re persona non grata among heroes right now. It doesn’t make a ton of sense that he’s excited that you were in the same class as he is. Vlad doesn’t ask you how things have been going; he just pats your shoulder and walks off. You try to escape before Eraserhead can talk to you, and make it exactly five steps before he calls out. “Skynet.”

You grit your teeth. “Do you want me to apologize, too?”

“For what?” Eraser looks irritated. “I asked you to look after my students. You looked after them. I’d be asking you to apologize if you’d let them fight.”

“Oh.” You weren’t looking forward to making that apology. “Then, um – what did you want to talk to me about?”

“My students are used to having their quirks temporarily canceled, but my quirk is unique. They’re much more likely to run into villains whose powers serve to restrain them,” Eraser says. You get where he’s going with this and try to interrupt, but he talks right over you. “I want you to come back for at least one of our basic training sessions. It’s rational to give them a chance to practice against a power set like yours, and it’ll also allow you the chance to work on fine-tuning your quirk.”

You knew there was a backhand somewhere in there. “My quirk’s as fine-tuned as it’s going to get.”

“We’ll see,” Eraser says. “The next basic training where all my students will be present is next Thursday. Come in.”

You recall making a promise to yourself, one which included telling Eraser to go to hell if he asked any more favors. But you still need to rehab your image. A lot. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

You change out of your costume before you leave campus – everything except your boots, which you wear almost all the time – and while you’re waiting for the train, you get a text from the group chat you have with the three other female pros who debuted in the same year as you. That’s about the only thing the four of you have in common, but that’s not stopping Yue from messaging in all caps. I MISSED MY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY! WE NEED TO CELEBRATE <3 <3 <3

Yue was the last one of the four of you to debut. Her agency held her back for maximum press impact, whereas you just picked a day at random to quit working as a sidekick and strike out for yourself. Kagura, another member of the debut class, texts back before you can. Spa night?

That sounds good to you, but it’s not Yue’s speed at all. GOING OUT! I CAN GET US INTO CLUB 100 IN TOKYO!

Right – Yue’s number 25, as of the most recent billboard chart update. Mayuko, the member of the class you get along with best, texts next. It might be nice to see what it’s like?

Kagura gives a thumbs-up, and Yue sets the celebration date for tonight – and orders you all to come to her apartment to get ready. She has a special message for you. NO BOOTS, SKY. THEY’RE TOO CLUNKY FOR DANCING.

You send back a frowny face, and Mayuko chimes in. You can borrow my shoes. It’s been so long since we got together! I can’t wait!

That’s true, and you’ve missed them – but right now you’re a liability. Are you sure you want to be seen in public with me? I’m sort of radioactive right now.

Nobody will recognize you out of costume, Yue says, instead of what you were hoping she’d say, which is that it doesn’t matter and she has your back. Be at my place at 6!

There goes your quiet night. You board your train and lean back in your seat. If you have to go dancing tonight, you’d better catch some rest now.

Shigaraki refreshes the page, frowning. Then he refreshes it again, getting the same message. What the hell does ‘set to private’ mean? He googles it, learns that only approved followers can see an Instagram account that’s set to private, and feels a surge of annoyance. It figures. He spent two weeks debating whether or not to look you up, and by the time he’s finally decided it’s not creepy to look up the weird hero who has a crush on him, you locked all of your stupid social media accounts.

Part of Shigaraki still thinks everybody’s messing with him – everybody except Toga, who’s delusional, and Twice, who’s probably never touched a girl who wasn’t in the process of arresting him. But something about it keeps bothering Shigaraki. Something about you keeps bothering him. Thinking about it makes him itch, and not thinking about it isn’t working. After two weeks of trying both, Shigaraki decided to look you up and find out what you’ve said about him and the League of Villains, so he can finally delete the mental save file with you in it.

But you haven’t said much about the League of Villains. Shigaraki can’t tell if that’s because no one’s asked you or because you don’t have anything to say – or at least not anything you’d say publicly, which is why he went looking for your personal social media accounts and found them all locked. Shigaraki scratches with one hand and looks you up on Reddit with the other. He has to be pretty specific in his search query. Just looking up “Skynet” brings up a lot of stuff about movies.

The Reddit threads about you are a mix of obsessive hero fans and people who think you’re hot. The latter group spends a lot of time bitching about the fact that you don’t post enough thirst traps. It doesn’t seem like you go for fanservice. Good. Shigaraki hates heroes on principle, but he hates the ones who don’t showboat ever so slightly less.

You used to work with Eraserhead, which is probably why he let you supervise his class. You went to UA. There are links to all your Sports Festival performances, and Shigaraki bookmarks them for later, in case you’ve got skills you didn’t show in the fight at Kamino. You’re not very well-known, and none of your arrests have been of big-time villains. And as far as Shigaraki can find, you’ve never said a word about the League.

It’s not like Shigaraki was expecting to find a whole essay about why you don’t hate the League and why you have a crush on him. He wouldn’t have liked that. But he also doesn’t like the fact that you apparently didn’t think about the League at all before you fought him at Kamino. Maybe you did and you were just keeping quiet about it. Or maybe you didn’t care at all until you met Shigaraki in person, and then you – what? Worried about him? Cared about him? Wanted him to live? Do people actually fall in love at first sight?

Toga would say yes, but Toga’s seventeen, and also insane. Shigaraki can’t take anything Toga says at face value.

There’s one other spot on Reddit where Shigaraki finds you – in a thread on the weirdest hero names. He remembers the movies that kept popping up in his earlier search results and finds one of them on his favorite pirating site. He’s bored. There’s nothing to do right now. He’s decided not to do anything else until the dust has settled. He has time for a movie.

The hideout is quiet right now. Dabi’s been gone all day. Toga and Twice left this afternoon, either to scout things out or to steal more supplies, and Spinner, Compress, and Magne are all napping in the next room. This afternoon, Shigaraki sent Kurogiri to ask the doctor for help. He didn’t want to do that, but with Sensei gone – gone, and it’s Shigaraki’s fault, because it was his stupid plan – the League is out of Nomus and running out of money. They need backup, and Kurogiri’s better at convincing the doctor to do things than Shigaraki is. A scarecrow with a paper bag over its head is better at convincing people to do things than Shigaraki is. If Shigaraki was convincing at all, he would have won Bakugou over, and none of this would have happened.

The movie is sci-fi, or maybe horror. It’s also really old, from some time period where all the movies were set in a world where quirks don’t exist. If quirks existed, this movie would be over before it even started. Probably. Shigaraki wonders if you’ve seen this movie. If you liked it. What other things do you like, in addition to him?

A few minutes later, he gets an answer to at least one of his questions. You’ve definitely seen this movie, and you must have liked it, or you wouldn’t have named yourself after the evil supercomputer that nuked humanity and started building killer robots to take out anybody who survived. Now Shigaraki gets why you were on the list of heroes with weird names, and he’s pretty sure you should be at the top of it. You must have at least a couple screws loose. That’s probably why you took one look at Shigaraki and decided to fall in love with him. If you have fallen in love with him. Have you?

Shigaraki needs to stop thinking about this. He presses play on the movie again. Now that he’s got at least an answer or two, maybe he can focus on something else. Something other than the fact that he’s tired and hungry and has a headache and will probably get dizzy if he stands up too fast, just like he always has. And the fact that none of those things were a problem until you asked if he was okay.

He must fall asleep or something, because the next thing he knows, the screen of his phone’s gone dark, and someone is hollering at him from the other room. “What?” Shigaraki shouts back.

“Get in here,” Dabi says. Dabi’s back. “Your girlfriend’s on the news.”

“All over the news,” Toga adds gleefully, before Shigaraki can argue back that a) you’re not his girlfriend because b) he doesn’t even like you. “She’s even cuter when she’s covered in blood!”

What? Shigaraki stands up too fast, comes close to blacking out, and scrambles unsteadily into the other room. Magne has the TV on, and Shigaraki elbows his way past Compress and Dabi for a look at the screen. It’s the national news, a special report. Something about speed brakes failing on a Shinkansen headed through Tokyo and a catastrophic derailment. Or what would have been a catastrophic derailment, if it wasn’t for you. Before Shigaraki can tell somebody to look up what happened on their phone – his is dead – the news broadcast plays a video of the incident. All Shigaraki and the others can do is stare.

“Damn,” Spinner says into the silence that falls afterwards. “If she’d done that at Kamino, you all would have been toast.”

No kidding. Shigaraki didn’t go to school past kindergarten, but every idiot knows that trains are heavy, and knows that the faster something is going, the harder it is to stop. In the video, you’re on the tracks behind the speeding train, hand outstretched. Shigaraki sees the train shudder when your quirk catches it. It yanks you off your feet about three seconds later, and you get dragged out of the frame facedown, one hand still extended, still hanging on. Whoever’s holding the camera pans left, following the train, and it’s pretty obvious that the train is slowing down. Shigaraki thought your quirk was good for paralyzing people and pulling wires out of the ground. He’d never have guessed you were capable of this.

“Why didn’t she do that at Kamino?” Dabi asks, baffled. “She could have made it big as the hero who took down the League of Villains instead of getting dragged by the press for letting us go.”

“Which do you think dragged her harder, the press or the train?” Magne cackles, and Dabi snorts. “She looks like roadkill –”

“Don’t be dumb,” Toga says to Magne. “She’s got blood all over her. It’s cute! And she let us go at Kamino because she loves Tomura-kun.”

“Oh, right.” Magne nods. Dabi’s still snickering. “The train isn’t half as cute as the boss is!”

Dabi’s snickering gets worse, and Twice is guffawing in the background. Shigaraki yanks the remote out of Magne’s hand and turns up the volume on the TV to drown them out. “ – pleased to report a lack of severe injuries to the passengers, courtesy of the gradual stop achieved by what was first believed to be a civilian acting without authorization,” the newscaster is saying. They’re on the scene. There’s an ambulance in the background. “We’ve since confirmed that the individual responsible for the save is an off-duty hero by the name of Skynet. We have her right here –”

The camera zooms in on you, just in time for you to spit a mouthful of blood into the gutter. Magne was right – you look like shit – and Toga was right – you’re covered in blood. You’re not wearing your costume, and your clothes are pretty shredded. You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand and stand up straight, grimacing. Shigaraki’s taken his share of hits in battle before. He’s impressed against his will.

The interviewer is asking you a bunch of questions, and Shigaraki listens carefully. Now that he knows how powerful your quirk actually is, he needs as many clues as possible about how it works. He picks up things here and there, but he keeps getting distracted by you. By the blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. By the big, bloody scrapes across your torso. By the way one of your shoulders is pretty obviously dislocated, and the fact that you’re standing there doing an interview when you should be getting help. Shigaraki doesn’t need to ask a stupid question about whether or not you’re okay. He knows you’re not. Why does he care?

Because you were off-duty. Because this wasn’t your job. Because you got in trouble for letting Shigaraki go at Kamino and still jumped onto the tracks to get dragged four hundred yards behind an out-of-control train. The heroic system is bullshit, and there’s nothing defensible about it, but that train probably had hundreds of people on it, and they’d be dead if it wasn’t for you. Being a hero is idiotic at best. But if it’s possible to do an idiotic thing the right way, you’re doing it.

The interviewer is asking you why you stepped in when you weren’t on duty, and you’re getting pretty visibly annoyed. Spinner is the only person other than Shigaraki who’s still watching. “She’s underground, right?” he asks. Shigaraki nods without looking away from the screen. “She acts like a true hero. Stain would approve.”

Shigaraki doesn’t give a shit what the Hero Killer thinks about anything. But he has a really bad feeling that he’s starting to give a shit about you. What the hell is he supposed to do about it?

Turn you, obviously. The League could use a quirk like yours, and it would be a serious blow to hero society for an established hero to join forces with Shigaraki. You probably weren’t trying to get Shigaraki’s attention by stopping a speeding train, but you’ve got his attention now, for a good reason instead of a stupid one. The thought of your feelings for him is a lot less uncomfortable now that they’re something he can use.

Kurogiri gets back from the doctor with bad news – the doctor can’t help them right now, because they’re taking too much heat. It sounds like bullshit to Shigaraki, but he has something else on his mind. He talks to Kurogiri away from the others. “Find out where Skynet lives.”

Kurogiri looks surprised. “Why?”

“She’s stronger than I thought. We can use her.”

“I see,” Kurogiri says, but he’s giving Shigaraki a weird look. “Why do you need to know where she lives?”

“So I can let her know I’m interested,” Shigaraki says. Kurogiri’s expression doesn’t shift. “I don’t have to tell her what I’m interested in.”

Kurogiri’s still making a weird face. As much as Kurogiri can make any kind of face. “Right?” Shigaraki prompts, and Kurogiri nods. “Right. Once we know where she is, what should I do?”

“Something subtle,” Kurogiri suggests. “Consider it while I seek the information you requested.”

Something subtle. Easy enough. Shigaraki feels better about the whole thing than he has since he ran into you for the first time. You’re in love with him? That’s fine. If you love him so much, you can help him destroy the world.

[ponpuriitx]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍.

One shot! Royal!Sun x reader.

summary: The next day after the ball, you tried to avoid the princes as much as you could, avoiding places that they were, avoiding talking to them, making contact with them anything. Until you received a visit from the sun-like Jester and a little chit chat with the Prince.

warnings: None really

Notes: This idea appeared in my head while I was grocery shopping and couldn’t get it out ever since, I think this is just a little parody (non official/non cannon!!) I made in my head for the first chapter of “Of fools in Gilded Masks” written for @cloudyvoid’s Medieval au, really loved the chapter! I really like sun, so this is going more to the sun lovers, please enjoy!! I’m sorry if it’s not great, this was kinda rushed since I didn’t want to loose the idea

*none of the characters mentioned are mine! They all belong to @head-in-the-icloud, and I personally love the whole au and it’s story so please make sure to check it out!! Really worth it.

Ao3 post.

Great way to start the “keeping it low mission” you thought.

At the ball, you committed quite the mistake. You interacted with the princes you so desperately tried to avoid. Your cheeks turned pink as you cringed at the idea, god what an awful start.

You sat on the bed as you yawned, looking over the room you noticed the empty bed. Guess that your “roommate” decided to take a morning walk or something. You didn’t want to go out of the room, the bed and blankets welcomed you so deliciously you wanted more minutes on it.

Even if it would’ve been the best option, you yelped at the sound of the doors opening. A maid entering the room quietly, “The Queen would love to greet all the remaining guests in the ball room.” Remaining guests? You were about to ask but the maid was quick to leave the room. Leaving the word in your mouth.

You sighed, getting up from the bed and get dressed. You had to use the same green dress you used for the gala night since, well, it was the only one you had. You looked around the room before stepping out to the ball room.

Now you understood what the maid meant when she said “remaining guests.”

You were entirely sure that there were more people than the ones that were here. It was still a large amount but there were less than yesterday. There were groups who were talking to each other, you stood on one of the corners of the room away from the crowds. You heard trumpets blare, making you look up again as one of the servants introduced the queen. She smiled at the crowd.

“I’d like to congratulate the remaining people here, most of you would be asking where are the others. Unfortunately, most of them were sent home for inside reasons. In the meantime, please feel free to enjoy the breakfast served.” Oh right, there was a large food table you didn’t noticed. You spaced out in your own thoughts, before you saw the people approach to the table.

You grabbed a plate and took some pancakes, they were really well decorated with strawberries shaped like hearts and some blueberries on the sides. It looked too cute to eat, but still very tasty.

After the breakfast, the groups left the rooms some to the bathrooms to clean themselves and some went walking through the halls. You took this as an opportunity to explore more the castle, walking down the halls and taking a look at some of the beautiful glass stained windows. But when you took one of the turns you saw at the distance a group of people, mostly woman whom were circling someone.

You thought of walking past them, but when one of the woman moved a little to the side you caught a glimpse of a familiar sun-like face and he seemed to have seen you too. Because when you both made eye contact he was quick to call you with a sign of his hand. At this you turned around and walked away back to the turn and left that hall, yes you felt bad for ignoring the Prince but you wanted to keep it low. Not be noticed, and get this over with.

After a while you were really tired of walking, it’s been almost an hour or at least that’s what it felt like. Why was the castle so big?! Of course is a castle. You sat down on the floor, not really pretty but come on of all the walking you’ve done you haven’t seen a chair nearby and it looked like you weren’t going to see one either. You stretched hearing a few pops from your bones and sighed in relief while you closed your eyes, you took some time until you decided to keep going

“Hello friend!” A voice quite loud besides you talked and you almost jumped at the sound. You weren’t expecting that, looking besides you you were met by the familiar Jester, Dawn right?? “Jesus! Don’t-, Don’t be sneaking into people like that!” You didn’t meant to be harsh in any way, really. But that almost got the soul out of you

“My apologies friend! I couldn’t help but noticing you here all by yourself! Mind if I join in?” For some reason, you actually didn’t mind that. You nodded and he was quick to take a seat besides you, with a moment of silence in the air. “How’s the thing going? Like it around here?”

“Oh, yeah sure. The food is great I must say, just looking around.” The silence was really loud, not that you would mind. “Have you talked to any of the princes yet? They say they’re very charming.” You didn’t expect that question, still it wasn’t unreasonable. That was the “reason” you came here after all. “Well yeah, I talked to one of them. Made a fool out of myself though”

You looked besides you to be met with the mask already looking at you, suddenly you had all of his attention. “Really? Is that why you haven’t talked to them ever since?” For a moment you frowned, how did he know that? But you brushed it off because well, he worked here of course he could see around and maybe he just saw how you avoided them. Right?

“Well yeah I think so, this whole idea is somewhat scary you know? I just, I’m afraid that if I get picked I will just be marrying someone I barely know. What if it’s the wrong one?” You put your legs upwards and hugged them, avoiding making eye contact with the jester. “I just, I want to marry someone I actually love, noble or not. And doing that with someone who doesn’t even know me then.. How am I even sure I’m going to get loved back?”

There was a pause, the silence turning awkward as none of you spoke. “Well, how are you sure that it’s not going to work out if you don’t try? If not knowing them it’s what scares you, talk to them and see if you connect. Don’t make all of your traveling not worth it, if you don’t get chosen then that’s okay. At least you tried.” Honestly he was right. You had the option to talk to them, get to know each one separately and see where things go.

“I guess that you’re right.” None of you looked at each other, the conversation turning deep rather quickly. “Say, you wouldn’t know another jester trick?” You didn’t know if he smiled, but it felt like it when he stood up and took your hand.

You had a fun time with the jester. Trying out new tricks and jokes here and there, laughing and overall you forgot the whole thing until it was time for him to go. You understood and nodded when he told you, so you went to wonder in the halls once again. You opened one of the doors that you saw, leading you to a big garden full of precious flowers in perfect conditions.

There were all sorts of flowers like Roses, Sunflowers, Lilly’s and more. You followed the clean road while looking at the flowers, after a while walking you spotted a big fountain in the distance. It had the edges wide enough for someone to sit on them so you did, admiring the flowers in the distance.

It was peaceful, It reminded you of your aunt because some of the flowers were her favorite. Making you smile at the memories with her, “Mind if I sit here?” You were on your own little world, spacing out to the distance. You hummed a yes, not looking at the person who sat besides you.

“They are beautiful aren’t they?” The voice sounded familiar, familiar enough to take you out of your trance and look besides you. You were met by the sun-like Prince who was looking at the flowers too. Your eyes widened. “Your highness!” You bowed your head, you heard a chuckle from him. “There’s no need for that please”

“Are you enjoying your stay here?” He asked, you nodded and he smiled. “Excuse me your majesty I-“ as you were standing up to make an excuse and leave you felt a hand touch yours, “Please stay, I insist” There was a kind smile on his face and suddenly, the Jesters words ran through your head. Making you stop, doubting for a second and sit again.

Time passes and it amazes you how easy to talk to was the Prince, it eased you to know this and it calmed you a lot. Even though sometimes your heartbeat was strong enough to make you confuse your words. You didn’t think you’d enjoy it as much as you did.

It was starting to get late, and he had to go because “Prince duties” and stuff. But before leaving he turned to you with that characteristic warm smile, “Can,” he stopped for a second “Can we repeat this one time? I really enjoyed it.” You told him yes, and he thanked you before parting his way.

You looked at him as he walked away and a smile appeared unconsciously in your mouth, you were smiling like an idiot. But who could’ve blamed you? The fact that now you both could get to know each other, and judging by how the conversation went, you were sure you could be eager to get to know the Prince.

[starchaserdreams]

My fics on AO3

Alright, so I deleted my AO3 account a few months ago (thinking I was done with this) and orphaned all of my works. Well, now I deeply regret that. But I have collected as many of them as I could find here for anyone who's interested.

Jegulus/Starchaser

Temptation Eyes (Now Complete!) - My Jegulus Regency AU. Completed, being posted one chapter twice a week. James enters the London season hoping to find a wife. What he finds instead is Regulus Black, and he never looks back. But as implied by the era, it won't be easy for them. Background wolfstar, shown as a different approach to a queer relationship in the regency era.

Get Regulus Out - 82k, Rated M, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Working Through Trauma, No War/Riddle AU, background Wolfstar, background Marylily. James tries to convince Regulus to leave Grimmauld Place as Sirius once did, and save himself from his parents.

How to Spot Signs of Jealousy - 4k, fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, miscommunication. After Regulus gets fed up with people asking him out because of his family name, he and Barty agree to fake date. For some reason, James Potter seems livid...and Regulus can only guess that it's because he's homophobic. That's got to be it, right?

But Where's Regulus - 1k. James on laughing gas after getting his wisdom teeth taken out and talking about how much he likes Regulus

Waking Up Slowly - 2k. James wakes up in bed with Regulus in the Gryffindor dorm, something Sirius might not take kindly to.

I've Read Your Book - 1k. Two one shots based on the same premise: Writer!James didn't even know Regulus knew about his book, let alone had read it, but Regulus comes up to him and says "I've read your book" aka the most exciting words of all time to start a conversation for a writer.

Little Ball of Fire - 1k. Regulus gets into an argument with Snape. Regulus begins threatening him, so James picks Regulus up and carries/drags him out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

Prongsfoot/Bambibelle

What's in a Name - 5k, Soulmates AU, secret crush. In a world where soulmates exist and can identify each other by the feeling they get when they say each other's names, it's pretty easy to identify who your soulmate is. But for Sirius and James who only call each other by their nicknames, it takes a while to finally know.

The Bachelorette - 15k, mutual pining, Bachelorette AU. Sirius and James are both cast as contestants on the Bachelorette. Although their stated goal was to woo Lily and capture her heart, they don’t quite manage it. They fall for each other instead.

A Real Marriage Under Wizarding Law - 6k, mutual pining, fake/pretend relationship, drunken shenanigans. Sirius and James get a quickie drunken marriage in Knockturn Alley. When they wake up in the morning, they decide not to get it annulled so that they can save Sirius from an arranged marriage.

The Only Transfer Students to Ever Come to Hogwarts - 9k, arranged marriage, hijinx, angst with a happy ending. Sirius is upset to learn that not only does he have to transfer to a new school, but his parents have set up an arranged marriage for him. James assures him that's impossible, but Sirius knows his parents don't make empty threats. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

The Smell of Water - 4k, Amortentia, idiots in love. Sirius and James argue about what they're smelling without realizing that there's Amortentia in the room. When Sirius realizes, he becomes a whole mess about it. (Written for Prongsfoot Bingo)

Wolfstar

Wolfstar Microfics Theme: Love - 8k, a collection of 22 microfics themed around love

6x James Found Out, and 1x Harry Did - 10k. Six ways James could have learned about Sirius and Remus' secret relationship, and one way Harry could have learned about it. *This is specifically ATYD fanfiction, and it's set in that universe.

[tuliptired]

One-shot for Egon? Egon and the reader that constantly throws him off guard with their flirting?

Shut Up, You're Stupid, Just Kiss Me

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

if you saw me post this to the wrong ask you actually didn't

better formatting on Ao3 😔

Another one of these benefit-things. Egon understood the whole spiel- show up and look nice so the city doesn’t shut them down and a few nonprofits can look generous. But they got repetitive quickly. He didn’t even know why they were invited to this one. But, Ray insisted that it’d be good for them- and possible investors. Everyday sacrifices.

Ray and Winston always handled the networking part of the night, while Peter sat next to him at the bar, absolutely bored out of his mind as he toyed with an empty glass, head in his hand. Egon didn’t drink, but for some reason these bars were the only seats in the entire ballroom. It never made much of a difference, as he always spent the majority of his time observing the guests or the bottles on the wall, or wondering what he’d do when he got home. 

“Egoooooon,” Peter whined for the 10th time that night as his head hit the bartop. “I don’t know what to do.” They’d been through this. 

“Do what you always do. Get drunk. Talk to women.”

Peter’s cheek lay against the wood as he turned to face him, eyelids lower than usual. “But I miss my girlfriend.”

“Halfway there.” Egon righted his forgotten glass as it threatened to roll off the bar.

“You don’t get it, man. I’m committed now.” If that was a solemn vow or a complaint, it was hard to tell. 

A pair of women stood next to them at the bar, giving quick apologies for the close proximity. Peter notices Egon’s shoulders square, and suddenly becomes very interested in tonight.

He perked up quickly, leaning into Egon. “Y’know what would make my night? Seeing you take a chance. Don’t shake your head- you know I’m right.” Egon shut it down silently, shrugging off Peter’s hands. Peter was right, he hadn’t “taken a chance” in what felt like forever. Peter’s voice continued to try and convince him, as it was tuned out into a low vibration of sounds. 

Romance- or love, didn’t scare Egon. He was a grown man, after all, and he figured he understood it well enough. But that was his downfall. Person A is attracted to Person B, and they start dating- it was a simple equation. Peter and Dana defied the equation at times. But they put themselves back into it. Louis and Janine bent the rules of the equation. Could he do that? Could he break the rules, make new ones, to law that evolves every moment? Peter’s voice turned into a ring. This didn’t matter. People didn’t look at him.

He first experienced that realization in high school, the week of a dance. Big ears, big glasses- but Peter had a date. Peter always had a date. Did he want a date? Someone to hold when it was dark? To blush with as they got dressed up together? He was only human. But would he ever get that? All signs pointed to no. So, he stopped worrying about it all together. It was easier to ignore while his nose was in a book. 

Peter was practically draped over his shoulders. “Do you want me to die, Spenges?” 

“Can’t you bother someone else?” He didn’t mean to snap. It was just an unpleasant moment of awareness, it always was. 

Peter was unmoved. “Oh, Egon. Is it ‘cause they’re girls?” He jumped from his stool as Egon decided to remove himself from the bar. “Sit, sit, sitsitsit. I’ll go and find Ray. I think you need a nap, anyway.” Peter disappeared into the crowd before Egon could join him. 

Loneliness. Maybe he really should start drinking. Or, coat tailing after Peter found Ray to get out of here sooner.

He couldn’t stew in his increasing misery for long, as he felt a presence behind him. As he turned around to be freed from tonight, to stick to Ray or Winston’s side like a lost kid, he was met with a different sight.

Oh god.

“Mr. Spengler!” Your cheery face beamed. “It’s been a while. Is anyone sitting here?” Not anymore, you were already lowering your butt into it. 

He remembers you well. He was required to take an Humanities class, something about ethics and morals in STEM students. You were a TA, the professor explained  not necessarily going into that field, but taking the opportunity anyway. Egon considered himself to be well-rounded academically. But you were near tyrannical. In a class of liberal arts, english, and history majors, he stuck out like a sore thumb. You picked on him relentlessly, engaging in back and forth discussion that the rest of the lecture watched on. Even the professor.

Independent analysis- each student assigned a poem and asked to dissect it. “But, Mr. Spengler, surely you’re not insinuating that the speaker didn’t grow throughout her poem?” Your voice was loud, though the hall was smaller than normal and his seat was much closer to the front than he remembers it being yesterday.

You were always on the side of emotion and subtext, him on the side of logic and literalism. “In 6 stanzas, she wrote about flowers. I’m insinuating that her perspective did not grow in those 6 stanzas.”

You turned your back to him, moving to the large chalkboard. “Are you sure you’re not dancing around the fact that your assignment was an allegory for sex?” The class broke, and his face flushed into a bright, knowing red, as you flashed him a bright, knowing smile.

Relentless torture. You’d stop him before he could leave the hall, a timed essay in your hands that you’d returned to everyone but him.

“Interesting topic,” you offered, after an hour of grilling him. As he reached for the paper, you pulled your hand back.

“Your writing is improving. You do exceptionally well when it’s something you enjoy.” You let him take it.

You start for your things by your desk, before calling out into the empty room. “And you’re cute when you actually try!”

So he decided that he hated you. It was the only plausible explanation. He left your debates cherry pink , stumbling over his own words. He could have sworn that he was beyond intelligent. But when he stepped into that room with you he became a bumbling idiot. And hate was a powerful thing. He found himself contemplating what would occur that day as he made his trek across campus. He was sure he’d understood the essay he was assigned to the point of being able to recite it. That would show you. But you shut him down, and up. No matter how calculated and practiced his responses were, you tore down his guard with your comments. How could someone who made him feel so stupid say such…things? He sat alone at night, pondering his ailment. You confused him to an intense degree. Sweaty palms, increased heart rate- this was hate, white and hot. 

The morning before he graduated, preparing to return in the fall for his doctorate, he appeared in the desolate classroom, as you cleaned out filing cabinets. 

You looked up from underneath the desk, the smile he’d seen for a whole semester spreading on your lips. “Your reception outfit is nice, Mr. Spengler.”

God damn it. Why was he here again? The grip on his bag tightened as he scoured through his brain for any recollection. You had a box in your arms, simply passing him.

“Don’t change,” and the door shut behind you.

How he hated you. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you managed to order a drink while talking directly to him.

“Of course.” Sweaty palms, increased heart rate. 

You sipped your glass. “You finished your doctorate? No more school?”  

He adjusted to spontaneous conversation, albeit slowly. He didn’t face you as he responded. “No more school.” You let out a noise of surprise.

“Doctor Spengler. I like that.” His ears burned. 

“And you’re doing the ghost-thing?” Oversimplification. But he found himself not caring when the words fell from your lips. 

“Full-time.”

“I get your ads 24/7. You look great in a jumpsuit.” His long legs jerked against the underside of the bar, and he heard you stifle a laugh. His stomach soared. Vitriol.

There was a hand on his arm. That commanded his attention. If he wasn’t full of…rage then, he was now. 

You murmured. “I don’t still make you nervous, do I, Dr. Spengler?”  He couldn’t breathe. As he opened his mouth, the only sounds that came out were stammers. You just laughed, squeezing his arm as you rose from the stool.

“I’ve gotta get going. Goodnight, Dr. Spengler.” You were gone before he could blink.

Nights later in the firehouse, in the safety of his lab, he couldn’t focus. How ironic? As he trotted down the steps for fresh air, the phone rang out. Janine was out for her lunch, and the others were still on the road from a last minute job. He sighed.

“Ghostbusters.” 

“Hey, Dr. Spengler. I enjoyed seeing you again and,” He held the phone to his ear with two hands. “I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner tomorrow night?”

He hated you. He’d show you just how smart he was by hanging up, ending this (one-sided) college feud.

“We’re back,” Ray’s voice startled him as he leaned against the desk’s edge staring at nothing. “Did we get a call?” He looks to the phone, resting on the tabletop rather than its proper place. Egon swallows.

“Just one.”

“Okay?” They wouldn’t accept his answer. He averted his eyes.

He conceded, letting himself lean back against the desk again. “An old TA.”

Ray’s eyebrows shot up. “The one who used to needle you all the time?” Ray had never met you, but he recalled Egon’s bad moods after having left your class. 

“Egon’s got a bully,” Peter directed at Winston as he did something in his own open office, behind Janine’s desk. “What’d they want?”

He took a short breath. “Dinner.”

Peter whistled. “Gutsy,” Winston offered as he sent Peter a look of shared surprise. Ray kept his attention on Egon.

“Good on you for saying no.” Egon was silent.

Peter reappeared. “You said no, right?”

More silence. Egon was a weak, weak man. Peter put him in a headlock, pulling him in tight as Ray’s eyes blew out, wide, and Winston laughed in disbelief. 

“Spenges is a big fat masochist!”

A woman walked in for an in-person consultation, confused at the sudden spectacle.

“Would you be quiet?”

You were (fashionably) late. 5 minutes and 23 seconds, to be exact, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not while you were going on about losing your house keys before you were about to leave. As you talked, he couldn’t help but notice how nice you looked in the warm lighting of the restaurant. Jealousy, perhaps?

So he let you talk. And talk. But he didn’t find himself searching for other stimuli like he normally did with characteristically chatty people. You seemed nervous, cringing a bit after every poorly measured story or unintentional confession. He had a bit of an upper hand. He smiled to himself, albeit small.

“What?” You grinned back, probing him. 

“Nothing,” he took a sip from the water he’d been nursing in place of wine. His expression was smug, hidden behind the lip of the glass.

“How’d you stay single, with a face like that?”

He choked on his water, setting the glass down as he coughed into his elbow. You had your head in your hand, leering at him like he was food. “I beg your pardon?”

“When you were post-grad? Guys and girls lined up outside your office to speak to you. And it wasn’t for your brain.”

You were messing with him, like you always were. But he’d bite. “They were eager to learn.”

You drew your hands up, incredulously. “Yeah, eager to learn what you looked like naked.” For the first time in his Jewish upbringing, he felt compelled to utter the name Jesus Christ.

The night went on for a bit longer. Against his better judgment, he started to find you funny. And witty. And incredibly alluring. You strung him along for 10 minutes about a classic of fiction, only to reveal that it was a personal story of your sexuality. And then you did it again, this time making a comment about his rear end. He couldn’t help but be startled every time.

You let him go on a tangent about his studies at one point, watching and listening intently. He felt the feeling rise in him again. This must have been full revulsion, because he couldn’t stop bouncing his leg. His cheeks began to grow sore from prolonged, uncontrollable smiling- what he considered to be himself reverting back to primal reactions from how hot his hatred burned. You fell into your old ways, going back and forth about a classic he’d read between then and college. He felt like he did in that lecture hall, temperature increased and body leaned towards yours.

“Assine point of view, Dr. Spengler,” you crossed your arms. The name made him feel like he’d collapse onto the floor every time you said it, however the scene was made in a fancy restaurant. 

Begrudgingly, he spoke up, voice weaker than it had been in hours. “You can call me Egon.” He absentmindedly picked up his glass.

You shook your head, twice. “Dr. Spengler is fine. It's pretty fun to say in bed.”

The glass in his hand shattered in his white knuckled fist. That’s how you both were escorted out the establishment, partially for the glass now strewn into the carpeting as well as his palm, in addition to his failure to react to the staff shaking him around. You guided him outside, the cool air doing him some good as his hand was wrapped haphazardly in white napkins.

“Sorry. About your hand.” You broke the silence, assuming an arbitrary direction as you continued in the path of your apartment. 

He was in his own world. Nay, his own universe. He stopped you as a cool wind blew through the sidewalk, rustling a nearby tree. 

“I don’t understand. I don’t know what I know anymore. I hate you. And you hate me.” 

His face was one of desperation, while yours was one of dismay. He continued.

“When I talk to you- when I see you. I feel the intense-st emotions, most of which I never thought I’d experience. I sweat. Too much. I forget what was on my mind. I look like an absolute moron. And- I never knew what that meant. So it had to be hate. That’s why you treat me the way you do- you laugh and smile and call me an idiot while calling me handsome because you hate me, too.”

He never vomited his soul out like that to anyone. Only a handful of times, really, to his closest friends. You only blinked, before a new expression drew over your features. Your face melted into a smile, to his surprise, as your arms suddenly found their way around his neck. 

“Come inside, Dr. Spengler.”

He woke up the next morning- in your bed as you slept soundly. How he hated you.