#While still bleeding the working class under them dry

[immediatebreakfast]

One of the things that it's always interesting to see in a gothic noble is what the villain, or the antagonist represents in the narrative as a whole.

The Gothic is a romantic literary response to the historical, sociological, and political contexts of the the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century. It's a look through the ruin, the passionate, the bigoted, the decaying, and the irrational rationality.

It's an explanation as to why it's crucial to the narrative of why Dracula is a count, why Jonathan is an inexperienced worker, and why there is so much emphasis on the locals.

"Because your peasant is at heart a coward and a fool! Those flames only appear on one night; and on that night no man of this land will, if he can help it, stir without his doors. And, dear sir, even if he did he would not know what to do. Why, even the peasant that you tell me of who marked the place of the flame would not know where to look in daylight even for his own work. Even you would not, I dare be sworn, be able to find these places again?"

How much contempt, and underlining hatred can one fit in a single paragraph that bordelines on a monologue? Dracula truly holds true resentment towards the locals of Transylvania for daring to try, and defend themselves against him.

He doesn't call them locals, citizens, not even commoners, but peasants. A word that not only signals the kind of social hierarchy that Dracula benefits the most (notice how he also included Jonathan in the social class at the end), but also why he is shown so angry despite Jonathan asking a simple question.

The locals of Transylvania had commited the worst crime in the eyes of the Count, the peasants dared to revolt against their "master" in order to keep themselves alive instead of baring their necks for the slaughter. Even with all of the fear that Dracula has sowed in the heart of the locals, to the point that they obey all of his orders, it's still not enough for him. That fear it's not enough for Dracula because it lacks the concrete submission of his old days as an actual noble class.

The locals of Transylvania fear him for his power and his wealth, but they lack the class mentality that would truly put them under Dracula, and that is eating the Count alive. He calls them fools while they fill their streets with protection wards and put rosaries around their necks, he calls them cowards while we have read how everyone around Jonathan risked the Count's wrath to protect him.

We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may lie amongst the common dead. 

The Count hates the old innkeepers, the coachman, and the passengers for daring to rebel against him, even if he is still the unliving cause of their suffering.

Hell, it's heavily implied that all of that is still not enough to fully stop Dracula, and yet he is still so angry. There is nothing that the aristocratic nobility hates more than the mere vision of how the people they deem beneath them act together to stop their abuse.

[selinamehhh]

(have a little hawai'i au)

"I knew befriending you would eventually pay off."

"Like you would ever plan this far."

"Oh, you'd be surprised. I've been playing the long con."

Robin rolls her eyes, or at least Steve thinks she does. He can't really see because she's wearing her big sunglasses. The ones that cover at least half of her face. Robin says it's to keep the freckles at bay but Steve knows she likes how they make her look like a Broadway diva.

"Well, if that's the case, then I'll take you off the meal plan and ask for a refund."

Steve feigns shock, a move he's learned from Munson.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, dingus. In fact, if you want to reinstate my good graces go get me a --, a --, something fruity."

"And I get to stay on the meal plan?"

"You have my word."

Steve rises up from his lounger and looks at the girl lying next to him. They've scored a nice set of loungers under an umbrella, near to the pool but not so close that they're under risk of getting sprayed at by all the kids playing in it. Tomorrow morning they're going to try to get to the adults only area, even if Steve has to wake up at sunrise to score a spot.

"Something fruity coming right up," Steve agrees and gets up.

He's immediately reminded of the sun and how merciless it is, as the skin around his shoulders starts feeling tight and hot to the touch. Robin had lathered him with sunscreen when they first got to the pool, but that was hours ago and Steve had gone swimming since. Oh well. It'll turn into a tan in no time.

He makes his way to the pool bar, tucked under an awning. It's tiki themed because of course it is, how else would the tourists staying here know that they are in Hawai'i.

Steve greets the bartender like an old friend. During the past four days he's been here often enough to get familiar with him.

"Rum and coke?" Makani asks and Steve nods. It's kind of embarrassing that the guy knows his order already, but he's on a holiday so fuck it.

"What about the missus?"

It's a game he and Robin are playing. They're pretending to be newlyweds because a) it's kind of funny and b) you get so many accommodations everywhere. It's no extra effort on their part either, they get mistaken as a couple everywhere they go.

Makani here obviously knows that it's all fake, but he's decided to play along. He thinks it's hilarious, makes him feel like a spy apparently. And who's Steve to begrudge the man of one of the few things that help him make it through his shift.

"She wants something fruity. And--"

"Expensive," Makani winks and gets to work.

The expensive part is also something Makani finds hilarious. You see, the thing is, that he and Robin are on this vacation because of Robin and her insane work ethic. She won the hire of the year at her new company, or at least something along those lines, and that awarded her and a plus one a two-week holiday in O'ahu in one of the company hotels, meal plan and drinks included. So they have made it their mission to eat and drink the most expensive shit on the menus, just to bleed the company dry. Robin hates his boss and is thinking of leaving, so she might as well go all out while she still can.

As Steve's waiting for their drinks he sees a little brochure on the table, left there by some former customer. He grabs it and shifts his glasses up to get an unobstructed view.

It's a brochure listing down all the activities at the resort. Some of them Steve's already seen, like the boat trips they keep advertising in the lobby as well as the scuba diving courses. The list here, however, is a bit more comprehensive and offers little blurbs of different kind of yogas, as well as aerobics classes, swimming lessons, excursions, surfing, reiki, you name it.

"There you go," Makani says and puts their drink on the bar. There's a little green umbrella in Robin's drink. She's going to love it.

"Oh, if you're thinking of doing some activities--," Makani says, noticing the brochure Steve's holding. "A friend of mine's doing both the yoga classes and some of the surfing. He's a sound guy. William."

"Oh, okay, yeah. Thanks. I'll check it out," Steve smiles and takes the drinks.

Steve thanks the man, hands him a tip and then goes back to their loungers, brochure shoved into the pocket of his swimming shorts.

Robin reaches for her drink and giggles in delight when she sees the little umbrella. She picks it off right away, and pins it in her hair.

"How do I look?"

"Tropical."

Steve watches Robin take a sip of her garishly orange drink. She makes a pleased little hum, and takes another sip. That's when Steve flings the folded up brochure at her, timing it perfectly and making her spill all over her swimsuit.

"Steve!" Robin sputters as Steve sits down on his lounger, stretching his legs in front of him. The shadow's are starting to grow longer, they need to shuffle the umbrella soon. Robin grabs the brochure, now sticky and glazed in orange syrup, pages sticking together.

"What's this?" she asks, while she's patting herself dry with the white hotel towel. The orange keeps bleeding around.

"Stuff to do. I feel like we could do something between all the lounging."

"You're such a fucking jock," Robin snorts, but takes a look at the offering.

"Makani said he has a friend who teaches yoga and surfing. That could be cool."

"You? Yoga?"

"Yeah, maybe not that, but the surfing for sure," Steve shrugs. Yoga's the one with the stretching and humming and stuff, right? So maybe that's not really up his alley. But surfing? That has always sounded so cool so why not give it a try when they're this close to a good beach.

He says as much to Robin, who just nods along.

"I want to try yoga though," Robin offers.

"Okay, you do yoga and I go surfing."

They share a look.

As if.

They burst laughing.

They spend the rest of the afternoon by the pool. It's too late to sign up for the day's classes anyway, and they're well on their way to tipsy. That can't be good when you want to balance on a piece of board.

Later, on their way back to their room, they stop by the front desk and sign up for surfing. Steve makes sure that their particular class is helmed by William, as vouched by Makani. The concierge smiles and assures that to be the case, complimenting them on their choice.

Steve feels good, eager to get moving after staying more or less stationary for the better part of the week.

It's not until he's standing there, tepid ocean water bracing his calves, that he comes to regret his decision. He's always had a good hand-eye coordination but balance is a different matter. He's going to make a fool of himself.

"Aloha. You here for surfing?"

It's weird how some things can bury themselves so deep into your subconsciousness that they seem to fade from view. Steve has not thought about that voice for years, yet hearing it now, with the gently lapping waves as a backing track--

"Billy?" he asks, feeling suddenly like he's breathing in heavy metals.

"Holy shit, Harrington."

The metals in the air drop all the way down to his feet, rooting him down there, in the shallow water. Steve wouldn't be able to move even if he wanted to.

Robin, who's been wading further into the ocean, makes a surprised sound. "William!"

Billy looks at her, eyebrows scrunched together.

"You're William," she sounds excited. She makes her way closer to the shore, splashing everywhere as he goes, including on Steve. "Makani told us there'd be a william, oh my god."

"Makani sent you?" Billy asks, sounding suspicious.

"Yeah," Steve sounds like he's been chewing gravel, throat all scratched up. "We were looking for stuff to do."

"Uhhuh," Billy nods, the air of suspicion not clearing up the slightest.

There's a silence. Or as silent as it can get on a resort beach around midday.

The fact that Billy's there feels like some sort foregone conclusion. Like Steve should've expected it, and he's an idiot for not doing so. Naturally he'd be in O'ahu, teaching surfing, what else was the guy to do.

He's always looked the part, at least. Maybe now even more so, with his sun bleached curls dropping past his shoulders and a ridiculous tan. Unlike back in Hawkins, he's also gained a little more bulk, something Steve's a little jealous of right away. Clearly the man's thriving in a way he'd never done under the Indiana sky.

Steve swallows past the gravel, feeling parched.

"So, surfing?" he asks.

[another-dr-another]

definitely go to the infirmary but try and keep an eye out for iranami or anyone else to see what happened w the other students while you were…gone? (not the best word) -iris

So you leave the bathroom. Tsurugi leads the way, bouncing and bounding, same as he always has. Despite Tomori’s absence, you’re reminded of dramatic tirades and crocodile tears; finding your dorm for the first time, Tsurugi determined to keep the mood light and you and Tomori entertained. He runs ahead, ending his dash in a high kick you’re sure he had to painstakingly practice as a kid. Then Tsurugis spinning, turning back to face you, waving his arms and walking backwards, all bidding for your attention, keeping you engaged in the conversation. 

He’s rambling about food, nutrition- concerned over how well you’ve been eating, and the rest of the class’s diets by extension. And you’re following. You walk along, echoing his path, and there is blood on your face. On your face, on your collar, blood on your hands, deep deep under your nails, same as h.

Blood matted in your hair. Time is passing and it is drying, can’t you feel it stiffen and crack? There is blood in your hair. Look around you. Focus on your surroundings. There is blood on your face, blood on your collar, and blood on your hands.

You can see it on Tsurugi, too. Smeared onto his own hands, all from gripping yours. Somehow, he transferred it to his face as well- just in small patches, unnoticeable, and definitely accidental. He didn’t mean to. But it happened, because he reached out, and let you dirty him, and now he is stained.

And he waits for a moment, let’s you cover some of the ground he put between you both as he talked, and then he keeps moving forward.

Because he’s fine. He knows, and he is fine, and he is content, and he keeps leading you forward, accompanying you. There is blood on Tsurugis hands, and you got it there. He watched you tear at yourself, pull and press and dig into your skin until you were pink and sticky and it was warm and all over and you were covered and so dirty and you were not clean. You were not clean. You were not good or right or true or clean or pure. 

And he knows it. And he saw it. As witness to your sins. 

And coated just as you are, Tsurugi got up, and helped you up, and walked forward, and waited for you to do the same, and is walking with you. He knows. 

(Does he? Does he Know? Would he still walk with you? Could he, still, even when he wears your sin? Is he still deserving?)

Your skin has torn away, and you cannot hide how you bleed, and Tsurugi is the same as he always was. He keeps going, same as ever, as though this were the most normal thing in the world, just another aspect of life, and he was as willing to help as he would be with anything else.

And as you two walk forward, this is reality, this is true, and the blood is going to be washed off, and you believe it. You are clean. You will be alright.

~*~

//Tsurugi is working at bandaging up Maeda. He’s cleaned the blood away from the scratches to see how deep they are, and  is working at cleaning them.

Tsurugi - Okay, so…

Tsurugi - Are you AFAB, AMAB, or neither?

Maeda - …Huh?

Tsurugi - …Okay so.

Tsurugi - I asked that thinking about how heart attacks can have different symptoms depending on what you were assigned at birth.

Tsurugi - But don’t- don’t answer that.

Tsurugi - Is there any pain in your chest?

Maeda - Yeah, uh…

Maeda - It’s not too bad? It’s been going away.

Tsurugi - M’kay… 

Tsurugi - Okay, fair warning, this may sting-

//Tsurugi presses a cloth to one of Maeda’s temples, prompting him to wince and quietly hiss in pain. 

Tsurugi - Sorry, sorry… the pain in your chest, where is it? Any particular side?

Maeda - All over, I guess, but… mostly my ribs?

Tsurugi - Okay, and can you describe it? Is there pressure, or the feeling that something’s squeezing at you? 

Maeda - Uh, no… it’s… moreso an ache? Like if I was sore, or pulled a muscle.

Tsurugi - Got it! And it’s just the area around your ribs, like your upper torso, not your neck, or jaw? And it doesn’t reach your shoulders or arms?

Maeda - No, no- Ah!

//Tsurugi removes the cloth from the other side of Maedas head.

Tsurugi - All done! Easy sailing from here, Maeda.

Tsurugi - Anyways, you were saying?

Maeda - Mm… no, none of that. It’s just my chest.

Tsurugi - Okay, great…

Tsurugi - Last round! You could win 2 million yen!

Tsurugi - Do you feel light-headed, dizzy, or tired? What about nauseous, or like you’re breaking out in a cold sweat?

Maeda - I… do feel kinda light-headed? None of those other things though.

Tsurugi - Got it…

//Tsurugi had been searching through a box of bandages, and pulls out two gauze ones, in patch-style.

Tsurugi - Do… you have any history of mental illness? You don’t have to answer, but I’m specifically thinking about bipolar disorder, or anxiety disorders- including panic disorder.

Maeda - What happened to that being the final round?

Tsurugi - Final heart-attack question!

Maeda - Wait, you were being serious about that?

Tsurugi - Mhm! Other than a blood transfusion gone wrong, it’s the only physical condition that could cause sense of impending doom.

Maeda - …Huh.

Maeda - Uh, anyways though…

Maeda - …

Maeda - Myyy sister, Miyono- she’s older than me, a bit older than standard college-aged now…

Maeda - She got me tested for early-onset schizophrenia, but I… don’t think I’m symptomatic.

Maeda - …

Maeda - Regarding anxiety or bipolar though, I’ve never had cause for concern there?

Maeda - But also, psychiatric help isn’t really…

Tsurugi - An option?

Maeda - Yeah.

Tsurugi - Makes sense…

Maeda - …I’m sorry?

Tsurugi - Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry. 

Tsurugi - Uhm. I’m like… huge on how inaccessibility issues can impact people- 

Tsurugi - Like, cuz I… kinda had to work in law enforcement?

Tsurugi - I’m not sure if you heard about this, but Korea’s crime rates have been plummeting in recent years.

Tsurugi - I… don’t talk about it much, for… legal reasons, but I did a lot of work to implement crime-prevention policies,

Tsurugi - As in, I actually did something about the systems that were working to keep marginalized communities down,

Tsurugi - And I’ve already rambled about this wayyy too much, but…

Tsurugi - You mentioned having a lot of siblings, and you’re mixed, right?

Maeda - I- yeah? 

Tsurugi - Mmmhm. You’re European-Japanese, single parent household, specifically single mother? Low-income?

Maeda - That’s… yeah, that’s all spot on. How did you…?

Tsurugi - Yeah, no, totally creepy, I’m aware. But, uh… context clues, and little details. 

Tsurugi - Like, you saying your sister was responsible for you getting tested, that automatically makes me wonder about how available your parents were,

Tsurugi - And you’ve mentioned your mom before, so I figured she specifically was the only parent.

Tsurugi - But also, it’s as minute things as you saying Miyono was “older than standard college-aged,” instead of phrasing it as her graduating college.

Tsurugi - Uh, anyways…

Tsurugi - Often times, psychiatrists are expensive, and aren’t near low-income neighborhoods. 

Tsurugi - That’s a pretty solid contributing factor to people born into poverty staying impoverished. 

Tsurugi - So… yeah. Didn’t really surprise me to hear you had an especially hard time accessing mental health resources.

Maeda - …

Tsurugi - …Sorry, sorry, I’m… so sorry.

Tsurugi - I always think explaining will make things better? Because my brain jumps so much, I think I just need to establish my train of thought for other people,

Tsurugi - But I can struggle with not saying things that aren’t… appropriate to say. I tend to not really realize.

Tsurugi - Sorry.

Maeda - No, no it’s… it’s all fine, I’m just surprised?

Maeda - That was… a lot of information, and I’m not really sure where to go from there, but it wasn’t bad whatsoever.

Tsurugi - …Okay. Cool!

Tsurugi - Cool cool coool…

Tsurugi - So… I’d say that it’s just because we’re in a killing game. 

Tsurugi - It is… literally life or death, and it’s incredibly traumatic in… so many ways.

Tsurugi - Just… please, please talk to someone. I’m telling you here and now, I’m a light sleeper, you can bang on my door at two in the morning,

Tsurugi - And it’ll be totally okay!

Tsurugi - And I’ll be happy, that you felt like you should talk with someone, and you did.

Tsurugi - Cuz it’s a good thing to do, okay? 

Maeda - Yeah, okay…

Maeda - I just… genuinely don’t recall any of today after breakfast…

Maeda - I guess that makes sense though, my memory is kinda spotty…

Tsurugi - …

//He pauses, then turns from where he was putting away the box of bandages to face Maeda.

Tsurugi - It is?

Maeda - Yeah…

Maeda - Like, I remember investigating with you and Tomori on the first day…

Maeda - But then, like… I can’t really remember… getting to bed after the trials…

Maeda - Or, I remember Hatano grabbing the last melonpan, and giving me half one day, after breakfast…

Maeda - But I couldn’t tell you if that was before or after Inori’s trial- I don’t remember when it happened.

Tsurugi - …Alright, uh…

Tsurugi - I… would say that that’s a response to the killing game… it… really seems like your psyche isn’t doing well with this…

Tsurugi - Which… is a fairly standard reaction…

Tsurugi - …

//He pauses again, closing his eyes, and moving his right hand around, almost gesturing.

Tsurugi - …Sorry, I was just… thinking.

Tsurugi - Let’s… talk about this later, okay?

Tsurugi - Which! Don’t be worried, I just need to work this out, make sense of it all.

Tsurugi - Uh…

Tsurugi - Okay, you said you were feeling light headed, and I’m sure that’s just left over from earlier-

Tsurugi - Same with your rib pain-

Tsurugi - But still, no harm in having a snack.

Tsurugi - You don’t have any allergies, right?

Maeda - I mean, I don’t think I ever got tested…

Maeda - But I’ve had dairy, and nuts, and most types of shellfish just fine…

Tsurugi - Okay, great!

Tsurugi - Uhm… fruits, veggies, and like you said, nuts, those are all good…

Tsurugi - But! Sugar is good too, can help with blood sugar- there’s standard candies in the pantry, there’s a tub, uh…

//Tsurugi closes his eyes again, for just a moment.

Tsurugi - The row of cabinets, when you walk into the pantry, to the left?

Tsurugi - It’s the cabinet second to the right, the lower half of that whole area is just sweets,

Tsurugi - Ice cream works too, there’s some in the freezer of the… fridge on the left. 

Tsurugi - Like… celery with peanut butter to start off with, then something sweet- and I’d recommend water, if you haven’t had any since breakfast.

Maeda - I… don’t think I even had water at breakfast this morning.

Tsurugi - …Maeda…

Maeda - It’s standard teen behavior!

Tsurugi - I fill up a cup with water for literally everyone before they come in for breakfast. I make it… so easy for you people.

Tsurugi - Gonna start watching you now. Follow you all day every day to get you to drink water.

Maeda - That is… so unfair.

Tsurugi - I caaaare, Maeda.

Tsurugi - But yeah, that sounds good?

Maeda - Yeah, I’ll get something to eat, and some water.

Tsurugi - Great!

Tsurugi - …I’ll be honest, I didn’t factor myself into these plans at all.

Tsurugi - Do you want me to come with you?

Maeda - Nah, it’s fine. Could probably use some time to myself, to process.

Maeda - I’ll see you later?

Tsurugi - Yeah! At dinner, at least.

Tsurugi - …Do you want a hug?

Maeda - …Sure, yeah.

Tsurugi - Cool!

//As they talked, both boys moved to the infirmary doors. They hug for a moment before separating.

Tsurugi - …Oh, I don’t have a phrase like “Hiya, Maeda” to say as farewell…

Maeda - …Okay, so you’ve been doing that on purpose?

Tsurugi - Mhm! Every day, every morning.

Tsurugi - It’s fun.

Tsurugi - …Bye-a, Maeda!

Maeda - Goodbye, Tsurugi.

~*~

Maeda, narrating - He… really does run warm, huh?

Maeda - …

Maeda - Well, no sense standing around, and I did say I’d go get something to eat.

[Go to the Cafeteria]

[nomkiing]

Wesley's Fate - warning for g.s m.sks and w.r

It wasn’t a nice attic.

Now, don’t get all worked up. It was a perfectly fine attic, just- crowded. There were a lot of them inside, though. Most didn’t like it in there.

Yes, the wind howled, and yes, the walls shifted- but it couldn’t do anything to them. After all, the worst had come to pass.

Maybe it was still happening to them, to be honest.

It was painful, being a ghost.

You didn’t have physical feelings most of the time, but the emotional and mental pain of it all was the worst. Watching your family and loved ones mourn, grow old, and die. If you were lucky and they were not, they would join you. Other times, they left with the light. 

Wesley was not one of the lucky ones, in either sense.

He was a ghost, and his wife was not. 

His dearest Amelia was up in the clouds, and he was stuck in this infernal school.

He had gone through war, and here he was, nothing to show for his work. It was like getting demoted, in a sense. Except he wasn’t considered a human anymore.

And so, useless-in-life-and-death gas mask forever stuck on his face, he sat stiff on a couch next to countless other restless spirits just wanting to leave this godforsaken place. 

He was, at the moment, sat next to the twins with the burlap bags over their heads. No one really knew who they were or why they were there, but Wesley didn’t like them very much. They would tie the student’s shoelaces and blow out lights, unorganized files and terrorize the teachers by making messes of their classrooms. Chairs would slide out from under unsuspecting bottoms, class pets would go missing, and the students with longer hair wouldn’t have their luscious locks for long- the two pernicious poltergeists enjoyed tying their hair to the frames of the very beds the children slept in - giving them quite the shock when they woke up. The twins and their band of rascal revenants would jump out from behind doors or shower curtains while some poor child was merely trying to relieve themselves at night (And as much as he never liked to admit it, the phantom Wesley enjoyed walking through walls in front of the children just to show off, and spook them a little from time to time, but nothing more).

Everyone knew the school was haunted, but no one knew what to do about it. A priest once fled from the building after he was pushed down the attic stairs. 

Of course, they weren’t all bad. Sure, there were the few such as the twins, but Wesley and most others were perfectly harmless. There were a few good-natured souls that he would occasionally converse with while walking the school grounds and sometimes occupying the classrooms to learn and sigh about how much things had changed. 

Some of the students would notice the spirits, and some were oblivious. The younger of the living, breathing residents would usually be more open to seeing such apparitions; though that wasn’t always the best thing. Many spirits were missing eyes, limbs- a few without heads- and some were forever bleeding heavily from the wounds that caused their tragic demise. Wesley was not part of that majority, though he would occasionally have his coughing fits that did nothing. He still felt that infernal gas filling and burning his lungs, suffocating him and robbing him of any fresh air as he tried desperately to right his apparently faulty gas mask on his face. It was the equivalent of drowning on dry land.

He never got to return home to his wife, and he never saw Amelia again. 

Perhaps it was better that way.

But after his body being unceremoniously tossed in a hole somewhere in the school grounds after the war calmed, Wesley was doomed to an eternity of sitting, waiting, hoping that someone would uncover his remains and give him a proper burial, so perhaps he could see his beautiful wife again and together work at her dear little pastel green and white shop in the sky.

Amelia.

Wesley missed her very much.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

This headcanon request is for the Pyroxene Trio and the Leech Twins caring for an S/O who is weak to cold weather 🌨 I hope you are handling the chilly season well Raven ❄️

My feathers are freezing...

HAHA WHOOPS I MISREAD PYROXENE AS POMEFIORE... Y-You can read the Jack headcanons for this prompt here. Cater’s can be found here! I apologize for the mix-up!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

First thing’s first, Vil will make sure you’re all bundled up! He has a keen eye for fashion, so he’ll help you find something that suits your tastes and keeps you warm (without adding so many layers that it gives the illusion that you’re all puffed up like a marshmallow).

Vil’s all for accessories; adding a scarf and earmuffs to your ensemble ties your outfit together while covering up spots that would otherwise be exposed to the cold. He actually wears a scarf and earmuffs just like yours--so you match!

When you’re visiting Vil in Pomefiore, you often find yourself still shivering--which leads to him lending you spare sweaters and jackets. You tend to accidentally leave while still wearing his clothes (they’re just so cozy!), but hey! That just means you have another excuse to meet up with your boyfriend again soon, right?

He doesn’t want your poor skin getting dry, cracking, and bleeding from harsh windchill, so he brews up custom-made lotion and lip balm for you to use. How will he know you’ve been consistently applying them? Simple--he’ll hold your hands and kiss you himself to see how soft they are~

Rook suggests exercising to work up a sweat and to chase off the cold! He’ll even join you for your winter activity of choice! How about a snowball fight, ice skating, or snow shoeing? Just be careful to not run, or you might trip and fall (though he’d be more than happy to help you back up)!

If your fingers are frozen, leave it to Rook to warm them up for you! He’ll lovingly grasp your hands in his and bring them to his lips to thaw them with gentle kisses and puffs of his breath.

He’s not a master chef by any means, but he tries to whip up simple comforting campfire recipes for you, be it a rich stew of wild game and winter roots or ooey gooey s’mores! Rook watches you eat with a dream look on his face, chuckling when you get strings of marshmallow or traces of chocolate on your fingers.

Rook finds every excuse under the sun to cuddle with you! He’s a big proponent of keeping warm by sharing body warmth, so he’s pretty much always hugging or snuggling you! It’s strange, but it seems like even his lips are hot--you swear that you skin singes when he peppers kisses all over your face.

Epel has lots of blankets, and he’d be more than happy to share. Each of them has a story to tell (this quilt was hand stitched by his ma, this one was passed down from his grandparents, and this one is a frost blanket for apple trees!). He points to each one in turn and fondly recalls memories attached to each.

You’ll nestle under the comforters together and whisper to each other all about the various holiday traditions and mishaps you’ve had. You have his undivided attention--and, seeing him up close like this, you can really appreciate just how pretty he is. His large eyes sparkle and his cheeks flush with fondness as he listens to you recount a tale.

He’ll prepare a mug of hot apple cider for you, spiced to perfection with some cinnamon and nutmeg. It feels nice going down, and warms you up from the inside out.

Once your mug is drained, your eyelids start to feel heavy--and so do Epel’s. He murmurs sweet nothings to you as you both slowly drift off to sleep, heads resting against one another.

Jade’s quite resilient to the cold, so if he notices that you’re having a hard time enduring the weather, he has no qualms with offering you his blazer. If you’re in a private setting, he doesn’t mind lending you his other articles of clothing either--why, you just look so cute in his oversized jacket, fufufu.

He’ll also keep an arm around your shoulder and keep you close to him at all times! Not only does it keep you warm, but he gets to view your flustered expression all the while.

It’s in Jade’s nature to constantly tease you, but when winter rolls around, you’re almost thankful that for his playful flirtations. Your face just heats up whenever he leans into your ear to whisper something, or he teases you about how darling you look--and that pretty much keeps you warm for a good few hours.

What would you care to drink? Tea, coffee, hot chocolate, soup... Jade can prepare the warm beverage of your choice, and exactly to your tastes. If you’d like, he can serve it with a plate of freshly made cookies as well, each one iced and festive.

Like his twin, Floyd’s not all that bothered by the cold weather. He just strolls with you to class without so much as a light coat on. Of course, he takes notice of your small, shivering figure right away and asks you what’s wrong. (The first few times this happened, Floyd tried to help by draping himself on you--and while that did keep you warm, it also just made it hard to walk!)

Since then, he has cycled through a variety of different methods, including grabbing you and sprinting toward the nearest school building as fast as he can, and stripping off his blazer and setting it on fire. Rarely do these ever work, but they certainly get your adrenaline pumping and your cheeks flushed from laughter.

He’ll make you something nice to keep you warm! ... And by “something nice”, I mean Floyd will hand you a cup of warm milk and ask you to guess what weird syrup flavors he mixed into it! Some days, you get lucky with standard strawberry or chocolate, but other times he’ll stuff mint, butterscotch, raspberry, and licorice in all at once!

Of course, Floyd will give you lots and lots of hugs, both in public and in private, to keep you warm! He doesn’t really care who sees (better that the other fish understand what’s his now rather than later)--in fact, if other people are staring, it makes him just wanna cuddle you harder and nuzzle his cheek against yours!

[whump-town]

Stubborn

Everybody taking care of old Hotch because... I don't like it when old Hotch gets left to just die on his own :( don't ask why that's where I draw the line

No pairings

No warnings

In Jack’s second semester of his junior year, Hotch collapses again. He’s home this time, out in his garden under the glaring sun. The day had begun no different than any other. The birds on the powerline chirping and causing their disturbances, as eager for the day to begin as the school-aged children shouting in the street. He’d watched them from the sliding glass door facing the street, his tea warm in his hands. He’d waved at a few, the older ones who recognize him as a mystifying adult with stories to be unlocked. The younger children give him a face akin to a monster’s, his mystery horrifying in their already confusing enough lives.

It’s an hour before lunch. Two hours before Spencer shows up because it’s Thursday and he teaches a class on this side of town every Tuesday and Thursday at 2. One that he occasionally asks Hotch to attend -- as a guest lecturer, as a treat to his students, or just for the company.

He could call just about anyone.

Emily’s downtown, on her way back from a meeting with the Department of Justice. She’d be thrilled for an excuse to not go back to the office and spend an hour or two in his kitchen telling him about those pretentious assholes.

Garcia’s about ten minutes away, working at a nonprofit teaching “at-risk” kids how to code. Being the guiding hand she’d needed as a teenager so that they might not repeat the same mistakes she made. She was lucky, Hotch saved her but he’s not around to catch any more kids like her.

Morgan got hired by a family two streets over to fix up their house before they move in. He’s there now, tearing out rotting beams.

This collapse is not of the life-threatening kind. Not to Hotch at least. There’s no internal bleeding, no emergency surgeries. He doesn’t even need stitches but he’s on so many medications that thin his blood that it’s just on the safer side. From the hospital, he calls who he needs to. Reid first, he’ll worry when he gets to Hotch’s house and sees his truck gone. Then, Jack, it’s better to hear this sort of thing from him and not Emily in half an hour when she needs to yell at someone and who better than the son of the idiot she hates right now? Dave and Emily follow and he trusts them to carry the news the rest of the way. Rather, he simply doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and he’d rather Garcia and JJ and Morgan and everyone else just be mad at him than go on to have another conversation about how he’s feeling.

Fine. He just got light-headed. It was the heat and his perpetually low iron and probably his thin blood (the killer had been his blood pressure but they’re working on that). He just needs to get better about remembering to eat breakfast -- a larger breakfast than just tea and toast. Fainting, he assures Dave, happens. Jack’s seen it happen. The heat makes it worse, the summertime drains him. He’s come in from the garden and gotten weak in the knees plenty of times. He actually moved some chairs around the sliding glass door to the yard, prepared for this exact problem.

This over clarification does not help.

Made only the more complicated when he explains his head is fine. The fainting thing really isn’t a big deal, he just needs a ride home. He’d landed weirdly and pulled his back. He left with a new problem entirely, a torn ligament in his shoulder. That is a problem for a different day.

The surgery is set for the week just before Jack’s finals. Armed with a suitcase full of textbooks, his laptop, notes from this semester (and a few from last), and just enough clothes to recycle a few and still be fine, Jack shows up on his father’s doorstep. “I mean, the hospital isn’t exactly the library… but it’s not the worst place I’ve studied.” It’s far too late to send Jack back but Hotch is reluctant to let him stay. Even if he does prefer Jack be his ride rather than the likes of Penelope and that tiny green eye-sore of a car she drives or leave him to Reid and his defensive, jerky driving.

To the sound of “Aaron Hotchner November 2, 1971”, Jack settles down with his books. He tries to put himself in the right headspace for studying but it’s harder than he anticipated. The constant motion of the room unsettles him and he looks up several times to see his father’s reaction. To gauge the anxiety in his face, in the deep breathes that he pulls in through his nose. In how tight his fists are holding the sheets underneath him. It’s a simple surgery and they’ll be out of here in no time.

“Young” his heart had not handled the heavy sedatives and morphine well. Then again, those incidents are always hard to measure against a thing like this. Rushed into the ER with nine chest wounds and having nearly bled to death, it’s natural to conclude the stress of his depleted blood supply and his very recent trauma had caused his heart to stop on the table. That said trauma was the reason his heart had maintained to be a steady problem up until they released him. Again, when he was brought in with some of the worst internal bleedings the staff had ever seen. His heart had given them trouble too.

Jack is staring blankly at his flashcards when the doctor comes out.

Hotch had gone to Georgetown to be a lawyer like his father and his grandfather. Jack went to Georgetown to get an Art History degree. He was lead by something else. Not chasing some shadow, clutching at a lie he spoonfed himself. Jack didn’t live in anyone’s shadow, never felt the pressure to look and act a certain way. Was never beaten into submission or told to hold his tongue. Jack went to museums every Saturday with his father, preferred them to the aquariums and the zoo. Hotch held him close to the artwork, pushed his dense schedule around to go to new shows, and learned the names of pieces just to recite the knowledge back to Jack.

In his lap, Jack is memorizing pieces of art like his father had years ago for him. He’s stuck on The Anatomy Lesson, eyes glued to the details. The way colorless skin is held in forceps, peeled back to reveal angry red. He can feel the pinching teeth on his own skin, feels the heavy flow of hot blood spilling down over his arm.

“Hotchner?”

Jack flinches, caught completely off guard. He stands, flushing as he tucks his notecards into his textbook, and stands. “Ugh, yeah. That’s me.” He wipes his hands off on his pants, rubbing away the nervous sweat he’s built up.

The doctor recognizes him from earlier. He’d watched Jack and Hotch get out one last goodbye. Jack pulling up a nervous smile, dirty-blonde hair, and light eyes a complete contrast to Hotch’s ever-darkening features. Somehow more solemn, voice taken by the sedatives already working through his body. He hadn’t said a word, eyes vacantly following Jack’s movements but unaware.

Jack expects the same monologue he hears every time. The one that comes out so dry and perfect that they must practice it in front of the mirror, say it softly to themselves as they as they get ready each morning. He’s got it memorized himself -- the bits about recovering in post-op, make a full recovery, and whatever on the fly timeline they give for access back to the room.

“But he’s-- He’s okay? He’s--”

Jack feels impossibly childish. Five years old and Emily’s chilled fingers brushing his tears away, “baby, I know you miss your mommy. But you’re being so terribly mean to your daddy.” He had been, a terrible little monster squirming away from his father and refusing to eat anything. Throwing tantrums about nothing and everything. Screaming and crawling under his bed every chance he got. Pushing himself to the wall knowing he couldn’t be reached.

Now he can remember Hotch just sitting at the edge of the bed. There on the floor for hours. Sometimes he read, would pick up a book, and just start from wherever just to make it so his voice was reaching where he couldn’t. He slept there too, on the hard ground just to make sure Jack knew he was there. Slipped strawberry pop tarts on crazily designed animal plated under there, offered bites of his own food to the darkness under the bed. Sippy cups full of chocolate milk and juice.

He feels like a little boy again, getting news that he has no idea how to handle.

“He’s okay?” Jack stammers. “He’s going to be okay? I can see him?”

Hotch remembers those days under the bed too. Waking up in the middle of the night as Jack groggily curled close to him, still under the bed but crawling under his blanket. The ends of those awful sobs, Jack’s little chest jerking as he hiccuped. The force of his sorrow was too much for his little body. And Jack would fall into his lap, exhausted and needing comfort. His little fingers tracing the scars on Hotch’s face. How he whispered “thank you” and “please” from underneath the bed and how he’d pop his head out to say, “Daddy, I’m going to potty. I’ll be right back.”

Jack’s legally old enough to drink now and Hotch still sees that little boy. The three-year-old wiping his snot on Hotch’s dress shirt. The six-year-old holding his hand and reminding him to look both ways twice before crossing the street. The eight-year-old he left the hallway light on for, old enough now to think he needed to brave the night without a nightlight. So Hotch would offer to keep the hallway light on, not for Jack but for him because he doesn’t like the dark. The ten-year-old sheepishly offering him a father’s day gift he bought with saved allowance, a t-shirt he’s now worn the words off of. The fifteen-year-old curling up beside him on the couch, seeking his comfort but not sure how to ask anymore. The eighteen-year-old as tall as him talking his ear off while he tries to get dinner ready, sticking his fingers in the pan and sitting on the counter.

How did he grow up so fast?

He’s not a little boy anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.

The creaking of a chair moves Hotch’s attention and he looks away from Jack. Away from the sight of his little boy curled up on a cot, drooling onto a pillow and notebook still open, a pen dangling from his fingers. He looks over and Emily’s sitting up, her reading glasses precariously sat on the tip of her nose. “Oh look,” she mumbles. She stretches out, groaning as her joints complain from being held in this miserable hospital chair for hours. “You’ve decided to join the land of the living.”

Hotch watches her fold the thin black frames of her glasses up, gently sits them down by his hand as she stands up. Jack had called her, even though he promised he wouldn’t worry anyone. Hotch didn’t want anyone else coming to the hospital over something so small and though Jack protested that their concern wouldn’t be because he was bothering them but because they love him. The very same reason he’d come home is that people gather after these sorts of things. They need reassurance that he’s alive and he’s just going to have to accept that. They compromised in the end, everyone could come to smother him in worry after he got home from the surgery.

But Jack was scared. He called the only person he could think to, the woman whose role in his life that was never really clear. She’d gotten on him about his grades, smacked the back of his head when he said something stupid, and always let him taste-test her wine at Thanksgiving dinner. Emily knew things that not even Jessica knew and she could be sterner than both Hotch and Jessica and also more relaxed, more understanding. She was always there for both of them, in the same capacity as Jessica and yet her own unique one. A friend Hotch trusted and loved and Jack could understand that. His friends always wanted to know if they were dating and he knew intuitively that the answer was no but he would hesitate to try and explain. But he didn’t understand the gravity that pulled them together, adults and their relationships far too complex to fit it into his simple understanding of love.

He did understand she was the only person to call.

“What’d he do this time?” she asked and knew she was playing the wrong role for the wrong Hotchner because no sooner than she could ask she had an armful of Jack. She sat with Jack for hours, let him get his fear out. Held him while he sobbed, felt pulled to the past. When it was Aaron on her shoulder, terrified he’d lose his son. Life has this very odd way of bringing everything full circle.

“I bet you’re hurting.” Emily moves to the table and pours water into the little paper Dixie cup left by the nurses. “Been right dramatic this afternoon,” she informs him, a dissatisfied matter-of-fact tone in play. “I know you find that to be particularly taxing.” She holds the cup for him, gentle despite her annoyance. She’s close enough to see the iodine on his skin. Dark orange swipes across his pale skin, the smell burns with its strength.

He pulls greedily from the cup, mouth impossibly dry. Stopped only by how little she poured, he sinks back heavily into the pillows behind him. His shoulder hot and angry from forcing himself upright.

“They’re going to let you go in the morning,” she says, sitting back down. He won’t remember this in the morning. Emily holding his hand, whispering thickly how angry she is with him as tears fall down her face. How scared she was getting that phone call from Jack, racing down here to be a composed person to comfort his son thinking her best friend was in the morgue.

He’ll wake up with a pit in his stomach, residual feelings from the night before he can’t tie down to memories. Emily shows no inclination to repeat herself, just coldly informs him that she’ll have Penelope make him a cardiologist appointment (it’s unspoken that no one trusts him to do this himself). Jack walks on glass, close by but terrified of being pushed away. Hotch is too out of it to put up much of a fight, by the time the morning shift has their hands on him he’s silent. Properly dosed up for a ride home and out of his mind.

He’s groggily propped up on pillows, watching Jack and Emily fight over if he has the right to wear shoes or not. Emily wants to hold them captive, he won’t run off or refuse the wheelchair without them and Jack shakes his head, “he’s not our P.O.W, Emily. He’s even going to get that far if he does try to run.” He’s given his shoes but Emily makes a point to collect his cane, holds it while the nurse helps him into the wheelchair. He’s a flight-risk and she’s not going to trust him, he’s run off on her too many times for that.

At the house the other’s have gathered up, having nothing better to do evidently on a Wednesday at ten in the morning. Penelope’s frying eggs and bacon, the carnage it takes to feed their brood spread out on his kitchen counter. Reid sitting on the counter, Hank in his lap, and the two of them watching Penelope. Derek’s on the sofa, feet kicked up on the coffee table, and Savannah learning on his shoulder. Dave’s getting orange juice from the store declared them all lawless, and didn’t trust them to get the right kind.

Hotch is granted his cane to get back inside the house but Emily threatens to kick it out from underneath if he tries anything fast. He smacks her ankle and Jack has to actually step between them to keep them apart. It’s in times like these where Jack finds himself wondering how these two ever had any role in raising him at all.

“Don’t you have jobs?” Hotch asks, hooking his cane over the coat rack and toeing his shoes off. He ignores the hand Emily places on his arm, afraid he’ll knock himself over. He manages just fine, has the whole house set up so that every other step is within arms distance of something to lean on. Fingers trailing the back of the couch he limps past Derek, smiling when Savannah offers a soft “glad you’re okay”. She pats his hand and he nods back.

“Up for some food, sir?” Penelope asks and she’s not taking no for an answer. They might be having heaping servings of eggs and bacon and gravy and orange juice but she’s made two small bowls of oatmeal. She takes the medicine Jack tosses up on the counter, puts it at the end where the rest of his medication sits. “I cut up apples,” she tells Hotch with a wide grin, sliding the bowl in front of him. “Dashed a little cinnamon and sugar in there, it’ll stick to your bones. Keep you healthy.”

He’s at a healthy weight at the moment, not as thin as he leans to when he’s sick but with Hotch, it’s always a good thing to have some collateral weight for the “in case”. Lifting the spoon in his left hand he scoops some of the oatmeal up, doing his best to hide his annoyance at how weak his extremities still are. How his hand shakes under the light strain of the oatmeal. He looks up, watches Spencer carry Hank over to the highchair sitting at the table beside him. He’s distracted so Emily swoops in, takes his spoon from his hand, and tries his oatmeal. He lets her do it. He raises an eyebrow and she shrugs. She likes it. He nods, it’s pretty good.

Hank immediately knocks his spoon on the ground and makes a low whining sound in the back of his throat. “Hop help,” he whines, pointing down at his spoon. His speech is still developing so he pronounces help and hop nearly identically but Hotch understands the difference. He just can’t bend over like that. His right arm is still pinned to his chest in an intricate web of gauze and this sling.

“Reid,” Hotch calls. His voice is deep, strained from intubation and anesthesia. It makes him sound sick. “He’s dropped his spoon.”

Reid nods, he already knows.

Hank points to his shoulder and frowns, “Hop fall down?”

Hotch nods, that is pretty much what happened and at the same time, Emily sweeps in and tickles Hank. She presses kisses to his face and making him laugh loudly. “That’s what happens,” she says. “Hops is just old.” Hank is too distracted by the ongoing attack to defend Hotch not that a toddler rising to his defense is very helpful.

Hotch sighs as Jack comes up behind him, stealing his spoon too. He takes a bite of the oatmeal and deems it nearly as good as the kind that Jessica makes. Hotch wants to be annoyed by it and yet all he does is nod and finds himself smirking just a little.

Penelope calls everyone in for breakfast and Hotch ignores the kisses pressed to his cheek as people drag chairs to the table around him. To the hands that slide over his back, assurance of life he remembers Jack calling it.

Derek slides him a mug of tea, made exactly how he likes it. He sits across from Hotch, close to Hank in case either needs assistance. Emily sits to his left, slides her coffee up beside his tea so he can have some if he’s quick about it. Jack sits beside her and the rest is a blur, too much motion at once for him to take in without his contacts or glasses. Penelope slides a tea plate to him, his medicine on it, and kisses his head while he’s still scowling at the plate.

They don’t leave him alone all day.

He ends up taking a nap with Hank, the toddler’s sticky little fingers holding onto his shirt as he finds himself unable to fight off the effects of the medicine and his full stomach.

He’s squished on the couch between Derek and Dave, forced to watch baseball because he can’t worm his way upright again just yet.

They change the dressings on his shoulder, his teeth clenched tightly so that he doesn’t let anything slip.

At midnight he wakes up on the couch. Jack’s bedroom door is shut, he’s sleeping peacefully inside. His heating blanket is pulled up to his chin, the heat turned up all the way. He can’t remember getting into this state himself but he has a fate memory of JJ helping him move his hand to his mouth, encouraging him to take the pain killers before bed. Of Derek making sure he didn’t just fall straight over onto his side. He manages to find Dave stretched out on the Lazyboy -- the chair he got Hotch for his fifty-something birthday. He’ll wake up in the morning to more food being made in his lonely kitchen, JJ this time. She’ll make blueberry waffles.

If he’d wanted attention, Emily will tease the next morning, he could have just asked. And he didn’t even know he wanted this. He never finds the words to ask for it to continue but every Saturday morning it happens anyway -- his kitchen and living room full of pajamas and suits in varying degrees depending on who has what to do that morning. The fainting thing is not cool but he considers this to be a good trade.

[velvetmel0n]

No More Than a Name For Yearning

Summary: It’s a late night at the office when the tension becomes too much.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.5k+

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, a threesome (tag teaming?? idk man they take turns), Javier and Carrillo being competitive? penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, egregious use of italics and em dashes, exhibitionism and voyeurism? little bit of dom!Carrillo, Javier smoking as per usual, mutual pining, angst 

A/N: let’s hope I didn’t overhype this lmao. Special thanks to @tintinwrites and her knowledge of musicals for the title💕

@damerondjarin @mandoplease @tintinwrites @poeticandors @darksideofclarke @futzingorchids @pascalplease @glowingpena @ollypopp @yougottakeeponkeepinon @bisexual-space-slut @agentpike @mylifeliterally @pedropasscals @huliabitch @winters-buck @hystericalmedicine @watsonwise @1zashreena1 @chelsfic @halfwaythereroyal @leahsafae @qveenbvtch @maxlordd @acomplicatedprofession @bobafvtt @propertyofdindjarin @milleniumvalcon @the-bird-suit @girlpornparadise @okay-murdocks @slfreya @aellynera @duamuteffe @ah-callie @bookshelvesandteacups @woakiees @himbopoes @shadow-assassin-blix @thedevilwearsvibranium @littleferal @veuliee2 @mserynlarsen @lesqui @softpedropascal @writefightandflightclub @catfishingmorales​

“I’m done.” Steve’s voice, all Southern hospitality and exhaustion, breaks you out of the haze you’re in and have been in for the last two hours, English and Spanish swimming before your eyes and you smile up at him reflexively, grateful for the distraction, however small it is. It had been a bad day for everyone, bad intel and a bad raid and now you’re stuck shifting through mountains of files, looking for where you went wrong and the next plan of attack. “Do you want a ride?”

“I’m good, I want to work on this a bit more,” You say confidently, trying for a tone and an expression that says ‘I’m staying because I want to finish this, not because I don’t want to be alone yet’ while his blonde eyebrows knit together high on his forehead. Your smile doesn’t crack under the weight of the energy he’s putting out, brotherly and almost concerned as his eyes flick towards the only other people in the office with you; Javier and Carrillo. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” You snort when Javier waggles his eyebrows dramatically at you over a stack of his own files to go through. “Javi’ll take me home,” You say because he will. You don’t have a car, having wanted to save money and not fully grasping the inherent dangers of being a DEA agent who relies on public transport in the middle of Escobar’s territory before you had moved here. 

You’d started saving the second week of living in Colombia, but somewhere along the way it had become less of a pressing issue and more of an afterthought as you fell into the rhythm of jumping into Steve’s car as he swung by on his way into work or pounding on Javier’s door, just down the hall from your own with some sort of baked good in your hands as the customary bribe. 

“You sure?” He’s giving you another chance, another out, because it’s late and it’s hot and his nerves are probably still frayed just like everyone else’s who aren’t showing it and he no doubt thinks you need a break just as much as he does.

“I’m a big girl, Steve. I’ll be fine,” You turn a page, sending him the message that yes, you’re staying. You’ll wait Javier out, promising him some muffin or cookie you’d picked up from the store, crumbly and too sweet but he gobbles them down anyways.

“Oh—kay,” He drawls out, sounding unconvinced but he’s picking his jacket up from where it’s been laying on his desk. “You crazy kids don’t have too much fun now,” He digs his keys from his pocket as he walks out and the hollow slam of the door shutting behind him doesn’t shake anyone.

And it takes a moment for the gravity of what you’ve just done to sink into you, how you’ve just stranded yourself on a desert island of paperwork and intel. How you’re trapped between the two men you think about late at night when you’re alone and hungry, now hunched over one singular desk with them and your mouth goes dry.

Your skin prickles and some part of you thinks that this might be better; better than the stress of the day and the frustration that rises in your blood every time you have to ask one of them to translate for you because cartel slang isn’t taught in any class and at least Carrillo tells you. You’ll tilt the paper at him and point and he leans close, brows heavy over his sharp eyes and he’ll say it once in English, only once and his tone is equal parts exhaustion and frustration but it’s enough.

Javier is more of a bastard about it. The way he smirks every time you ask him for anything, smooth and suggestive and asking what you’ll do for him as payment and as much as it gets on your nerves you can’t help but rise to it, batting your eyelashes and threatening to do one thing or another which of course never fazes him. It helps soothe the more ragged edges of your nerves, falling back on the familiar rhythm of your friendship, the push and pull wrapping around your shoulders like a security blanket.

You both know that you’ll each fall apart in your own way as soon as goodnights have been said and your apartment doors have closed, but that’s a problem still hours away. It’s a problem you’ll deal with alone in your bed, hugging your pillow and wishing you had someone warm and solid sharing your bed because you could attach yourself to them somehow you think. Anchor your body to theirs, to reality, so you don’t float off into nightmares.

Carrillo seethes beside you, quiet and his mouth set in a hard line but you still find yourself wanting to reach out to him. It’s stupid but you want to reach out and smooth your hands over him, want to bleed the tension form his body because he carries too much of it and he can’t bury it under innuendos and harmless flirting like Javier can, like you’ve learned to. 

You think about it sometimes, what might happen if you acted on your desires with the Colonel. You know what will happen with Javier if you ever take him up on the offer, one that’s stood since your first week here. You’ll know that he’ll treat you right, that he’ll take you out of your head and take you apart piece by piece. Maybe he’ll even put you back together again and you can’t deny that you’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. 

But Carrillo is a puzzle and maybe that’s why you keep thinking about him as much as you do, maybe you want to take him apart just as much as you want Javier to do the same to you. You want to know what it’s like to have all that energy focused on you, intense and bordering on obsessive. All consuming. 

The next exhale is shaky and you realize you need to stop before you start staring at them, at the way Carrillo’s shoulders fill out his uniform or catch Javier’s profile out of the corner of your vision, the way his mouth twists with displeasure underneath his mustache. You need to stop before you start thinking about what that mustache will feel like against your skin or how tight Carrillo’s grip on you would be. 

You try to bury yourself back in the files and grainy photographs, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs and you realize that you were wrong, that this is worse.

The next hour passes in a haze, steeped in frustrations and stress and an insidious kind of tension, the air plucked taut like a bow string. You’ve untucked your blouse and have already undone the first button but you’re reaching for the next two barely ten minutes later and you don’t know if you’re overheated from the weather or the look you’d seen Javier give you when you reached for your collar the first time, thick eyes slid over to you and following the motions of your fingers. You think Carrillo might be watching you, too— see his head tilt from the corner of your eye, see his fingers still as they turn a page. You keep going, slipping the buttons from their closures and maybe you make more of a show than you should of opening your collar. Of fanning yourself and slipping your hand underneath your shirt to rub your shoulder.

No one says a word and you keep your eyes fixed on the ones in front of you, absently kneading your own shoulder as you wait for their eyes to slide away, for the moment to pass because it feels like it’s clogging your throat. 

“Need a hand?” Javier raises his eyebrows, points his chin at the one you have stuck up your shirt, your fingers squeezing at the knot that’s formed and you snort. It splinters the tension enough that you can breathe.

“In your dreams, Peña,” Because the last thing you need right now is for him to touch you, the rasp of his fingers over your smooth skin with Carrillo watching the entire thing, less than three feet away. Your stomach clenches at the thought, a traitorous thrill forcing its way up your spine and you dig just a little too far into the tendon and a noise slips from your lips. 

You expect Javier to call you out on it, on the way the sound just...flows out, low and keening but pitched up towards the end and you don’t breathe. You don’t know if anyone breathes because it’s like you’re the only three people awake right now. The only three people alive and the glow of the streetlights outside is pulsing and hazy as it slips through the cracks in the blinds and it’s making you feel like you’re in a fever dream, like suddenly all the consequences of bad decisions, of feeding the monster in your gut are going up in the smoke that bleeds from Javier’s cigarette.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t and neither does Carrillo and your breath shakes itself out of you, your fingers smoothing over the tendon you had just curled into and you have half a mind to go home, to try and call Javier off the hunt so you can curl up in your own bed and try to sleep off the stress and the heat, the thoughts that keep rising to the surface.

The sound of Carrillo yanking a drawer open drags you out of the daydream that’s trying to coalesce and you see him pull the bottle out; think that the frustration must be getting to him. You can’t blame him for it.

“I hope you’re planning on sharing, Carrillo,” 

Because there’s something to be said for warm alcohol and the way it burns the whole way down like it’s holding a grudge. You don’t know what it is— it’s something clear and biting that smells like window cleaner when Carrillo unscrews the cap and passes it to you, the bottle half drunk already and the thought is dim in the back of your mind that the Colonel himself must’ve done this dozens of times before, that your lips are wrapping around the very same rim as his must have as you swallow a mouthful and try your best not to grimace. Your lips tingle on contact and you know whatever it is it’s strong, probably enough to fuzz your better judgement.

You’re already passing it to Javier when you see him reaching for it, fingers hungry in the way they wrap around the bottle. He gulps, bares his teeth at the taste and holds it out to Carrillo who swallows a mouthful of what you suspect to actually be paint stripper without blinking. Rinse, repeat.

The alcohol loosens your tongues and before you know it Javier is cluing you in on the things that are said behind your back, when you’re not in the room. Warning you about a young agent who’s been making noise about asking you out, maybe getting you in bed and you can’t help it.

You chuckle and the words rise unbidden to your tongue, spurred on by a combination of alcohol and stress, of sleep deprivation and the oppressive heat. You don’t realize your mistake until a second after the words are out of your mouth and you can feel your stomach drop to the floor.

“I’d rather fuck you grumpy bastards,”

Because it’s just as much about the wording, how you said it as much as it’s about the fact that you said anything at all. You’d rather fuck them. Not either, not one of. You’d rather fuck them.

“What was that?” There’s a change in Javier’s voice, some new chord resonating in the air and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Carrillo drinks slowly from the bottle and you can see his throat working, his Adam’s apple bobbing and he’s looking at you with intent. It makes you want to squirm. 

“I— I just mean if I had to choose, between you and Miller I mean, I’d— I would choose you,” You fumble it and you know it. You’re not looking at either of them, eyes staring down at the files still on the desk because you feel warm and prickly all over, trying to keep your breathing even because you’re spiraling. You’re afraid; afraid of their reactions, if they’ll snort and reject you after all and afraid of what will happen if word gets out. The fear tangles with arousal in your gut, as exhilarating as it is confusing and no one is saying anything.

You see motion out of the corner of your eye, a large hand gripping the back of your neck a moment later and he almost pulls you out of the chair with his urgency to crash your lips against his own— Carrillo. You melt into the kiss, welcome his tongue into your mouth and you’re abundantly aware of the fact that Javier is just on the other side of you, that you’re being watched.

Your breathing shallows and it’s like you have a fever you’re so hot, drinking down every bit of attention that’s being lavished on you between Carrillo’s mouth on yours and Javier’s hands, sliding around your middle and squeezing your sides before you feel him crowding further into your personal space. It’s already verging on too much for you, too many things happening at once and not going to stop until you’re boiled down to a creature of lust and sensation and nothing else. 

Carrillo keeps one hand in your hair while he eats at your mouth, keeping you in place for him while his other drops to your thigh, palming it before he slides his hand down to your knee and holds, stopping you from creating any friction for yourself before you could even try. You whine and Javier’s even closer than before, covering your neck with kisses now and his mustache tickles enough to have you trying to recoil from it, chills sweeping throughout your body and his chuckle dark in your ears. 

Carrillo’s teeth drag over your bottom lip at the same time Javier starts to unbutton the rest of your shirt, his hand deft and seeking as it slips underneath the fabric, his other mirroring Carrillo with the way it grips the meat of your thigh. You whine, trying to grasp Javier’s shirt in an effort to ground yourself or to pull him closer you aren’t entirely sure because all you know is their hands on you and the ache that’s burning you up inside, the taste of the alcohol on Carrillo’s tongue as it sweeps through your mouth. 

Your shirt flutters to the floor in a soft heap and Javier’s attention stays on your chest for what feels like ages, palming your breasts through your bra while Carrillo’s head dips, mouthing along your jawline and down your throat, and in that moment you want nothing more than to feel his teeth. To have him suck marks into the fragile skin that you can look at in the morning to make sure this isn’t some fever dream brought on by the heat and frustration because you feel like you’re being melted down between the two of them and reshaped into something new, something hungry and aching and empty.

A hand trails from your chest and down your stomach while teeth scrape along your neck, your shoulder, and you almost hold your breath when you feel the button of your jeans being fiddled with. A whine builds in your throat, a sharp sound undercutting it and sending a jolt through your body when the Colonel smacks Javier’s hand away before he could slip it inside your pants. Your eyes flutter open for the first time since this all started, just in time to see the way Carrillo’s jaw clenches, hostility or just plain competitiveness you can’t be sure belying the heat in his eyes as he glares at the other man.

It shouldn’t turn you on— you know it shouldn’t, having him snapping over you like that, like you’re a new favorite toy he’s loathe to hand over but you can’t deny the way you squirmed, either, heat curling in your gut at the thunderous look on his face. And then Javier is huffing and for one insane moment you’re afraid that he’s going to give up without a fight, that he’s going to stop.

But then he’s turning your head towards him, wrenching you away from Carrillo so your chest is pressed against his own and he can have his fill of your lips. His kiss is different from Carrillo’s— the bristles of his mustache tickle and it’s less like an onslaught but no less heated, his groan sinking right down into your bones.

Carrillo’s fingers make quick work of your jeans and you almost leap out of your skin at the first touch, thick fingers slipping underneath the band of your underwear and dragging through your soaked folds. 

You moan into Javier’s mouth, the sound ripped from the back of your throat and you hear one of them chuckle— self satisfied and almost mocking and you want to snap at them and call them names, want to regain the edge you maintain so carefully in this line of work but you can’t. You can’t because Javier’s teeth are scraping along your jawline now and his hand is working its way underneath your bra to start thumbing over your nipple, the edge of his nail against the sensitive skin making a chill skate through your body and Carrillo— he’s— he’s rolling the rough pads of his fingers over your clit, using enough pressure to make your thighs jerk and the insults wither on your tongue.

Then it’s your hands that are moving, unclenching from their shoulders to follow the lines of their torsos down, down, down and the scrape of chairs across the floor is loud and disjointed as they’re yanked closer. Half of you wants to take your time, to explore the both of them at your leisure and finally have your fill of each, to run your hands along their bodies and kiss each of their scars but the other half of you is louder. The other half of you is greedy. Impatient. 

You smooth your palms along the front of their pants, reveling in the feel of their cocks twitching through the fabric and how Javier’s breath hisses through his teeth, how Carrillo drops his head to your shoulder and squeezes the inside of your knee, his fingers stuttering against you. It’s heady, knowing that they both want you like this and holding evidence of their arousal in your hands and you can’t help but stroke them, biting down on a grin when a moan works itself from Carrillo’s chest. 

Javier recovers first and pulls you until your body is fully facing him, hunching over you with his fingers working at the closure of your bra, mouth trailing down your throat. Carrillo huffs behind you but he doesn’t pull you away, not yet. Instead he shifts closer, close enough for you to sag into the solid mass of his chest because his fingers are moving again, slipping lower and teasing your entrance, circling and only barely dipping the tip of one inside. At the same time Javier’s mouth is engulfing one of your nipples and sucking, teeth glancing off of it and you don’t know whose name to moan, writhing between the two of them and trying to get a grip on Javier’s hair. 

Your other hand is still over Carrillo’s cock and you squeeze, a whine bursting from your lips because of course the bastard was waiting for that, waiting for just the right moment to slide one of his thick fingers home while Javier laves across your chest, licking and sucking at your tender flesh. “Fuck,” Your voice is high and reedy and you feel like you can’t breathe. It’s the first word you’ve spoken during this entire thing, whatever it is, whatever it’s going to turn into, and you think you feel Carrillo’s lips pull into something sharp that might be a grin against your cheek when he starts to move.

The angle means the heel of his hand is bumping into your clit and his pace is a cruel thing; dark and twisting and somehow it’s too much and not enough all at once and your head is spinning from it. You hear him in your ear, speaking low and soft and his praises are clogging your throat. Encouragements, teasing when he asks you if you want more, can take more because he knows you can, that you want it because you’re good for him, aren’t you? For them?

And Javier is murmuring his agreements against the pillow of your breast, dragging his teeth along your nipple and you think if it’s possible for a human being to go up in flames you would right at this moment, trapped between the two of them with no buffer, with nowhere to go. 

“Need more already?” Javier’s voice is thick like honey, almost gloating as he picks his head up from your chest, taking in how it rises and falls in time with your rapid breaths, shining from his mouth underneath the fluorescent lights. His eyes drop lower and he can’t see you, not with Carrillo’s hand in the way and the thick denim of your jeans still biting into your thighs, but he can hear you, slick and obscene with little whimpers falling from your lips like you’re trying to stay quiet because you are. It’s not working, but you’re trying.

“Javi—” Your voice tilts up at the end, high and whining and you don’t know how much more of this you can take. You feel like you’re melting down, burning up from the inside out and you can’t remember if you’ve ever felt like this before. If you’ve ever felt this on edge, coiled up tight and vibrating with this much tension, if it’s because you’ve been wanting each of them for months now, if it’s because they’re both here with you. Both watching you, both stringing you out further and further and pulling you in different directions. Each trying to get their fill of you before the other. 

And maybe you’re asking for Javier because Carrillo is cruel, working you with his fingers but never giving you quite enough, working you up and up and up. Like he wants to see how far can push you, if he can make the need swallow you whole. You know he can, that for all your wanting to take him apart piece by piece he can do the same to you, is doing the same to you just as you know Javier will show you more mercy.

Javier reaches for you, curls his hands in your jeans and pulls them down over your knees and maybe he meant to pull them off, to get you naked in the middle of the office but his eyes catch on the way Carrillo’s finger is sinking into you over and over again. The way he gives you another and how you still when he does, your breath stuttering.

You almost don’t feel the way Carrillo hooks his chin over your shoulder to watch for himself because you can’t think over how his fingers feel, thick and heavy and buried up to the knuckle and you whine. You whine because he’s just holding them there, seemingly content to just feel the way your cunt is squeezing around them, the way your thighs are shaking and listening to you crying in his ear. 

You hand fists in the material of his pants, your other digging your nails into Javier’s shoulder and you use them for leverage, rolling your hips on Carrillo’s fingers. Someone groans, ragged and strung out and for terrifying seconds you think that they’re going to leave you like this. Leave you to fuck yourself on his fingers without any help.

But Javier doesn’t last that long.

Javier doesn’t last that long before he’s reaching for you all over again, pulling you away from Carrillo and you almost protest, almost call him a bastard for cutting off what little stimulation you’re managing to eek out for yourself but then he’s pressing you up against the desk and you forgive him.

You try to brace yourself on the desk, hands slipping on file folders and you look back, over your shoulder because you can hear his belt jangling, loud against the background of hurried breathing and arousal-softened voices. You don’t see it but Carrillo leans back in his chair, sucking your slick off his fingers and thinking about eating you alive even while he watches Javier line himself up with your weeping cunt, the way his head leans back as he pushes in, the way you go still. The way your chin drops to your chest and how you rock your weight onto your hands, spine curving when his hips meet yours. 

Javier isn’t moving, not yet, and Carrillo almost feels sorry for you because another of those whines is falling out of your mouth, soft and needy and you lick your lips before you speak, begging him to move and so he does. They both do. 

Javier’s hands curl around your hips and he starts to thrust as Carrillo stands, rounding the desk and his lips might pull into something crueler than a smile but pleased nonetheless when you reach for him, a moan on your lips. He lets you fumble with his belt and untuck his shirt with shaking hands and his chest swells with a twisted pride, that you can be filled with another man’s cock and still reach for him.

It goes to his head a little bit while he watches you, glassy eyes fluttering and your hands slipping. Your head drops to his shoulder with a high pitched moan, your hips rolling back, and that’s when he grabs your face, his fingers pressing into your jaw, lifting your head and forcing you to look at him. 

It’s too much, you realize, trying to remember how to breathe while you stare into Carrillo’s face. His nostrils are flared and his eyes are swallowed up by his pupils, and he’s not looking away. Your breath is puffing into his face and you’re trying to keep your eyes open, you are— but Javier’s cock keeps dragging through your walls, catching on something bright and sharp and it’s almost enough. 

You don’t realize that you keep closing your eyes until Carrillo is almost throttling you, tightening his fingers on either side of your jaw, the meat of his palm pressing against your windpipe and tomorrow you’ll feel embarrassed at the pathetic sound that leaves your throat. How you sway towards him, his "look at me” ringing in your ears, soft and biting all at once.

Javier hunches over you then and you feel his teeth in your shoulder, feel the rasp of his mustache on your skin. Carrillo’s shoulders move but you don’t look, don’t let yourself get distracted from the way he’s looking at you like— like—

You don’t know because Javier’s hand is moving, slapping Carrillo’s away before he can touch you and you see the muscle in his jaw tick before you crumple, would have spilled across the desk if his grip wasn’t holding you up because Javier is slipping his hand between your shaking thighs.

Your hands fist in the material of Carrillo’s shirt, your quest to get his belt undone long since falling by the wayside and being replaced by focusing on the way your nerve endings are lighting up under Javier’s fingers, buzzing and firing and the knot in your belly bursts, thick and sweet like syrup. You sob into Carrillo’s shoulder, bearing down on Javier’s cock and he groans behind you, ragged and grating. 

But he doesn’t let you enjoy it, not really. Because the next moment he’s pulling away from you and you feel so empty you could almost cry, shaking yourself apart against Carrillo’s chest, dense and warm and the part of your brain that’s still functioning wishes you could feel his skin on your own. You don’t get the chance to dwell on it, on Carrillo’s hands and his arms, the feel of his torso through his shirt because the next thing you know liquid is splashing across your lower back, hot and dripping and you shudder right down to your bones.

“Fuck,” Javier sounds as wrecked as you feel and you can hear him pant, the air whistling over his teeth but the ache between your thighs isn’t fading away. If anything it’s getting worse as you try to pull yourself back together, trembling against Carrillo’s body because you don’t necessarily trust yourself to stand on your own quite yet and apparently neither does Javier, rolling his forehead on the space between your shoulder blades. 

After a few moments he straightens and you feel his eyes on you as clearly as you do his hand, stroking down your side and squeezing your hip. He starts digging through the desk then, opening and shutting drawers until he finds what he’s looking for, wiping his cum from your skin with what you assume to be an extra shirt Carrillo keeps in his desk, always prepared.

Your fingers unclench from the shirt he’s wearing, sliding over his stomach to pull on his belt because you aren’t satisfied, won’t be until you know what it feels like to make him fall apart right along with you. You mouth at his neck, slipping your palm into the front of his khakis after you conquer the buckle and zipper. 

“You’re breaking my heart, baby,” Javier sits back in one of the abandoned chairs, his voice hoarse and colored with exertion, and if you didn’t know any better you might think he’s serious, that his feelings are well and truly bruising with your efforts to get in Carrillo’s pants, still greedy for more after he had his turn with you. 

“Fuck off, Javier,” You say it without any real venom against Carrillo’s skin and the other man might have barked out a chuckle, bared in his teeth in something that might have been a grin, but the only thing you can focus on is the way Carrillo groans when you close your fingers around his cock and stroke. You want to hear it again and again, want to have it vibrate through you while he’s pressed impossibly close. 

He’s a sight as he pulls himself away from you, his uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, unbuttoned now and his undershirt wrinkled from your fingers, his jaw set and you have to turn, all loose limbed and soft as you seat yourself on the desk, able to finally peel your jeans the rest of the way off and spreading your thighs in blatant invitation. He takes it, slotting his hips between your knees and wrenching you to him and you’re able to wind your arms around his wide shoulders like you’ve been craving to.

You rub yourself against him, your breath catching in your throat from how your sensitized cunt slips across the coarse fabric and it almost hurts, sharp and corrosive in the way it floods through you, dissolving in its wake. But you can’t stop, chasing after the pleasure with a whining moan because he’s just watching you, eyeing the slowly growing wet spot on the front of his underwear because of it and you squeeze your thighs around him, trying to spur him on. 

"Horacio,” The name slips out unbidden, tinged with something you can’t describe and it’s the magic word. He huffs as if he’s coming back to himself, as if he’s realized that he can move, that you really do want this despite the circumstances. Despite Javier watching with rapt attention and a fresh cigarette.

He doesn’t make you let go of him, doesn’t make you pull him out because you’re clinging to him so sweet and nice and purring for him that he can’t imagine it and you’re grateful. Actually grateful that you can keep yourself wound around him, touching and tasting like you’ve thought about for months now, raking your fingers through his short hair and arching against him until you’re balancing on the very edge of the desk, his arms the only things keeping you from slipping right off.

And then you’re being split open. 

You warble something that might have been his name, choking on it and you scramble at his shoulders for a better grip. He groans deep in his chest, rough and filthy as his head drops to your neck and it’s overwhelming. You want to blame it on the fact you’ve already cum, that you’re still overly sensitive from Javier because he’s making you feel better than he has any right to as harsh as he is, as stone faced. As mean.

But then his hand is slipping between your thrusting bodies and he’s anything but, unerringly finding your clit and it’s almost embarrassing. It’s almost embarrassing how hard your body jerks, grinding into his calloused fingers while he breaks you apart, your cunt pulsing around him as he keeps up the onslaught, hips snapping into yours. 

You cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, as the pleasure sweeps through you, glimmering and razor sharp and you say his name again, only this time mewling and shattered. And it’s the combination of everything that does him in; your cunt fluttering around his cock, your voice in his ear saying his name like that, you trying to pull him infinitely closer. He grunts as he spills himself within you, the sound strangled and you can’t help but gather his face in your hands to pull it to your own, slanting your lips against his and drinking it down.

Your thighs are quivering as you pant into each other’s mouths, Carrillo almost languidly stirring his cock in you as you both come down. You didn’t expect it— didn’t expect any of this to actually come to fruition, to exist somewhere outside of your mind and the four walls of your bedroom but here you are. The smoke from Javier’s cigarette hangs in the air and Carrillo— Horacio, now, is nosing underneath your jaw, staying right where he is and kissing the salt from your skin. If an ache wasn’t blooming between your legs, in your thighs and your hips you don’t know if you’d believe it happened at all, letting the memories turn hazy in the sunlight that’s only a few short hours away.

But it is and when you blink your eyes open you see Javier looking at you with an unreadable expression, flicking his eyes to Horacio and back again and a different heat starts to suffuse your body, this one prickling and bordering on uncomfortable. That’s when you unlock your ankles from behind Horacio’s back, your heart slipping into a nervous rhythm and you don’t want to press your palms into his shoulders and apply pressure, telling him to move without so many words but you do because you can’t take it.

Can’t take the way Javier is looking at you, can’t take how much you want Horacio to stay, to wonder and find out if he stays as gentle as this when the fog clears from his head. 

You can’t take the way he’s looking at you either as he shifts, following the directive of your hands and you swallow the gasp that tries to burst from your mouth when his cock slips from you. You weren’t expecting this either, how bereft you feel without him filling you up, without him in your arms if you’re being honest with yourself. You can’t even blame it on the alcohol, not really. None of you had drank that much, the bottle still not empty after being passed between the three of you and now on its side, knocked over at some point from your combined haste but miraculously unbroken as it lays there on the corner of the desk, liquid pooling on the linoleum below.

Javier is the one who sees it first and throws Horacio’s crumpled, used shirt on the caustic puddle while you’re pulling your jeans up, dressing as if your clothes could become your shield from the emotions that are trying to flay you alive.

“Are you okay?” It’s Horacio who asks how you are while you button your blouse, his voice gruff and threaded with something that’s going to haunt you.

“I’m good, I promise,” You try for a light smile, like you’re not turned inside out, like you won’t keep thinking about this for the rest of the night and maybe into the day when you have to pretend like everything is fine, that nothing has changed. 

Javier throws the shirt onto the desk then and it hits with a wet plop that makes you cringe. You see Horacio’s mouth thin, any traces of the softness from just moments ago bleeding away and you want it back. 

But it will have to wait for another time, maybe a better time or none at all because Javier is crushing the end of his cigarette into an ashtray and picking his leather jacket off the back of a chair, looking at you expectantly because he knows you can’t refuse him, not without revealing anything. “Ready to go?” And maybe Horacio has some inkling about the arrangement, gleaned from comments that have piled up over the weeks and months but maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he thinks you’re going home with the agent, not bumming a ride to the same apartment building because you were naïve and are now complacent.

You nod, looking again at Horacio and running your eyes over him, as if you don’t want to forget how he looks in this moment despite everything. His uniform a mess, cock tucked back into his pants but his belt staying unbuckled for the moment and for one second, one harebrained second, you think about kissing him. Just kissing him, just a peck— just enough for him to maybe know.

But you don’t. 

“Goodnight, Horacio,” Your lips wrap around the syllables, turning his name into something gentle as you drift towards the door after Javier.

The Colonel nods and you think you might see his lips part but the shadows make it impossible to tell and you don’t know what’s in his eyes either, just know that they feel heavy on your skin. Javier calls your name and you finally look away before you do something even more stupid than anything else you’d done tonight.

The door closes behind you and he knows you can’t hear him but he says it anyways, alone and looking at the door like you’re going to walk back in.

“Goodnight.”

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 27 || Next ➡

“How is he?”

Aizawa’s voice, normally gruff and sleep-heavy, sounds sharp and worried. His eyebrows are pinched tight on his forehead, and his hands are folded across his chest with an iron grip, as if barely keeping himself together.

Ken looks at Aizawa and sighs. “He talks and he talks and he talks, but he’s not really saying anything.”

Aizawa purses his lips.

“I don’t think speaking to me will be the breaking point.” Ken laces his fingers together and stares at them as he continues, “But he will, indeed, break. As you did, as I did, as we all did. And when that happens, perhaps, being in the dorms will offer some semblance of comfort.”

Ken looks up and waits till Aizawa catches his eye. “I will be here when he needs me. Until then, I shall continue our sessions, even if he just keeps talking without saying anything.”

Aizawa nods curtly, mumbles out a goodbye and walks back to his accommodation.

---

A hero never forgets their first.

The work is dangerous. Most days are easy and mundane, and then there are days where the hits keep coming. People get hurt, heroes get hurt, and villains get away. You even lose people, in the crossfire or because you were too late, and those wounds never fully heal, the scars faded and jagged, moving with your every move, a constant reminder.

And then there are the days when you feel the Earth beneath you crumble as you watch a child die. When you lose someone young, innocent, with baby fat on their cheeks and wide toothless smiles. Kids with scrapped knees, stars in their eyes, and the softest hair. Kids like Eri.

A hero never forgets their first child.

Aizawa watches Kaminari speaking animatedly with his classmates, eyes bright and body language lax, and feels his fists clench.

He sucks in a deep breath, pushes away any thoughts of blue hair and big, loud smiles and continues his lesson.

---

It’s Bakugou that stays behind in class one day, two and a half weeks after the incident.

“Something’s fucking wrong with Sparky.”

“Language,” Aizawa says automatically, before lowering his books and looking at the blonde. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know, something is just. Since that day, he- Fuck, I don’t know.”

Aizawa lets this one go. “He’s been coming to class. He’s attended every therapy session with Cementoss. Lunch Rush tells me he’s eating well, and he seems-“

“His eyes-” Bakugou interrupts, nose scrunched in deep thought. “- his eyes are too bright. That’s not his usual, happy-go-lucky-idiot shine. They’re too bright.”

He stands up and pulls his bag over his shoulder. “His eyes feel artificial. He moves his body too much, every movement exaggerated, like he’s constantly compensating. Like he’s fucking pushing something down as hard as he can. And then, there are these moments-“ Bakugou stops just shy of the door. He looks over his shoulder but his eyes don’t seek Aizawa, instead glaring at the tiles near his feet.

“There are these moments when his eyes are vacant, like he’s not even in the same room as us.”

With that, Bakugou walks away and Aizawa finds himself thinking back to the past, the well-acquainted pain in his chest rising from slumber, squeezing till his heart feels like it’s about to break, shatter apart the way it did that day.

Because Aizawa and Hizashi grew up.

That day though, they lost Loud Cloud, who was nothing more than a kid. A young child, gone before he could ever learn just how terrible the world really is.  

---

Kaminari attends class. He eats lunch with his friends, jokes around with them, trains every day, and sleeps in on the weekends. He never finishes his homework on time, calls his parents at least twice a week, and continues to go stupid when he overuses his quirk.

He also goes quiet more often, enough for Kirishima to pick up on it too. Bakugou watches Kaminari carefully, watches his eyes go vacant in the middle of movie night, watches him flinch when metal protests under the force of Midoriya’s quirk during training and watches his smiles get wider and more rigid, eyes so bright the fluorescent bulb in the common room dims in comparison.

There is nothing to do but wait.

---

It took Aizawa three months to break after Shirakumo.

Long after the cremation and the memorial and after the chatter picks back up in the hallways. He goes home one day, puts his bag on his desk and takes a seat, intent on finishing his homework. His pen is nowhere to be found so he yanks his desk drawer open-

Only to find a blue and white pen with the name Oboro etched into the body.

Aizawa thinks he hears a crack as his heart splinters and the tears begin, flowing freely. He bites into his forearm to keep from wailing, and he can’t see or breathe or feel anything past the wave of pain that drowns him.

With shaking hands and a complete lack of coherent thought, it takes him 14 minutes to type out a message to Hizashi. It takes the blonde another 8 minutes to get to his room, scoop him up and cry with him, and that wound never quite closes, always exposed, ever-present.

---

It finally happens on an average Wednesday, a month after the incident.

Aizawa’s just finished up with homeroom announcements, and as he straightens up the stack of papers on his desk, he hears Jirou.

“Kaminari, check out this mem- whoa, you ok, man?”

He looks at the blonde and startles when he sees the tears streaming down his face as he stares vacantly at his own hands.

Aizawa moves fast, because that’s what pros do- they calculate, they assess, they make split second decisions that spell life or death and everything in between.

He instinctually activates his quirk just as he whips his capture weapon out, pulling everyone around Kaminari away from him. Because he smells the static in the air, feels the prickles on his skin and he knows the boy is this close to losing complete and absolute control of his quirk.

Kaminari doesn’t acknowledge the chaos around him as people yell out in surprise and try to understand the situation. Aizawa keeps his eyes on Kaminari, and watches as Bakugou turns to Yaoyarozu and yells, “Make me some fucking insulated gloves now.”

Surprisingly though, it’s Shinsou that snatches the first pair and jumps across the desks to get to Kaminari, ducking down to his eye level, staying out of Aizawa’s line-of-sight.

“Hey, do you know where you are?”

Kaminari jerks at that, his eyes snapping over to Shinsou. They’re still vacant and hollow, lifeless. Shinsou keeps one glove on but leaves his other hand free.

“Kaminari, do you know where you are right now?”

Slowly, like he’s underwater, Kaminari swallows and shakes his head.

“Ok, that’s ok, take your time. I just want you to know you’re safe. Do you need anything right now?”

Kaminari looks around slowly, as if trying to understand what’s going on. He looks back at Shinsou and swallows thickly.

“There’s so much blood,” Kaminari says, and his voice sounds haunted. He bites his lip as a fresh pool of tears gather in his eyes.

“Get Cementoss,” Aizawa says to Shoji, his eyes still trained on Kaminari. They’re starting to feel a little dry and irritated, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Bakugou is also by Kaminari now, hovering behind him protectively, keeping the others away.

“I don’t understand,” Kaminari suddenly says, voice clear and colored with genuine confusion. “How does a kid just die?”

He laughs, a slightly hysterical sound, before his eyes, wide and far too bright, whip over to Aizawa.

“Sensei, there’s no way that kid died, yanno? She was so tiny, barely up to my hip. And so cute, with a lisp. There’s no way she’s dead. Obviously.” He knocks his own head, a hard hit that makes Kirishima flinch, and Bakugou gently holds his arms, to keep him from hurting himself. Kaminari barely notices.

“Kids don’t die,” Kaminari says, his eyes boring into Aizawa’s. “Right, Sensei? They don’t. How can they? They’re too tiny. Someone that small can’t die.”

Aizawa’s eyes sting, and he can say it’s his quirk but he feels it in his heart, a bone-deep ache that’s just second nature to him.

“Kaminari, nobody can live forever.” He clears his throat, slowly walking around the table as he approaches the boy, holding his gaze. “Nothing is forever, not even the- not even the children.”

Kaminari’s eyes go vacant again. “That can’t be true, you know? Cause that means she’s gone.” He looks at Shinsou. “Her hands fit in my palm Toshi. Her entire hand. I don’t. There was so much blood, I can’t- how?” He reduces to nothing but a blubbering mess, and finally, he slumps sideways, right into Bakugou’s abdomen before he wails, the sound of a deeply wounded animal permeating into the very walls of the room.

Shinsou keeps a grounding grip on his knee while Bakugou pushes a hand into his hair, holding him close to his stomach. His own face is scrunched up, eyes red and daring anyone to say anything, to him or Kaminari.

Bakugou goes with him when Cementoss comes. They take Kaminari to the therapy room and Bakugou stays the entire time.

Aizawa turns to face his class again, once the chairs are moved back in place and the shock of it all simmers down, leaving behind an empty cavity in the very middle of the room.

“You never forget your first,” Aizawa tells them, speaking from his soul. “You will never forget your first, and I want you all to promise me that when it happens, you find me. You find somebody. You seek help. And you keep pushing forward. So that someday- “

He clears his throat and pushes through, “So that someday, there won’t be a first anymore.”

He watches his students nod before they turn to each other, looking up ways to help someone in Kaminari’s condition, using their time together as a reference for what will help the most. And Aizawa feels hope and pride gently coat his heart, a band-aid atop a deep, bleeding gash, but it’s something.

He thinks about bright blue hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and the warmth of a gentle soul.

You never forget your first.

[balaroo]

Negative Reinforcement

Bakugou Katsuki/Midoriya Izuku one shot.

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki was the last person who should be picked to give emotional support- especially when he's stuck in a hospital room and bored out of his mind, but Izuku had shut down after their battle with Shigaraki, blaming himself for not being able to stop the carnage. When not even their classmates can pull him out of his mood Katsuki takes it into his own hands.

Aka, Katsuki has to cheer up Izuku and it goes surprisingly well.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Soft Bakugou Katsuki, Worried Bakugou Katsuki, he's trying his best, It Can Be Read As Platonic But Who Am I Kidding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Cuddling, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings, Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Post War Arc, not spoiler free, no beta we die like nighteye, this is so self indulgent you have no idea, Depressed Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Feels Guilty, One Shot, short and sweet

Author’s Notes: I'm not really happy with how this turned out honestly. I loved the idea but I struggled to write it well, forgive me. Anyway, wanted to post it before the leaks for the new chapter come out and break me. This is my fluffy interpretation of what should happen but watch Hori stamp on my dreams.

Set right after chapter 296, there are many spoilers ahead and a few guesses about what will happen next! Thank you for reading and please leave some constructive feedback if you can! I'm still very new to writing fics like this.

Cross posted on my AO3 account, the link to which is in my bio if you’d prefer to read it there.

Rest of the work below the line!

Negative Reinforcement

If there were two things Katsuki hated more than he hated everything else the first would be hospitals. The sour smell of disinfectant that clung to each surface and the constant background hum of machines slowly drove him insane, that combined with Katsuki's own opinion that he'd spent enough time in the damned places already did not make them appealing to him. The second most hated thing would be dealing with other people's emotions. Hell- it was tiring enough having to figure out his own, let alone being expected to somehow know what other people were feeling and even if he got that bit right he was still meant to act accordingly. It was exhausting, so he tried to avoid it whenever he could. In this situation, avoiding it was not possible.

When Katsuki first woke up his thoughts had been jumbled, fleeting and fearful, considering the last thing he could remember was bleeding out in a ruined city it seemed fair enough. The room had been dark, cast in shadow with only the soft flashing lights of various medical devices to give any indication that Katsuki hadn’t been thrown into a void. He’d tossed fitfully in the hospital bed for a second, not quite grasping his surroundings and cried out as white-hot pain shot across his chest as if someone were tugging on his insides. “Kacchan?” The familiar voice was quiet but echoed with desperation and Katsuki frantically sought out its source, twisting his head, eyes finally adjusting to the gloom until he could make out a dark mound on the far side of the room that was moving. Katsuki finally separated the figure from the pile of blankets and pillows, ruffled hair stuck out in all directions and if he tried hard enough, Katsuki had been able to make out the faint gleam of green eyes piercing through the darkness locked directly onto him. “Thank goodness.” Izuku breathed as he saw Katsuki twist to look at him, his form slumped again, fading back into the shapeless mass of the hospital bed and Katsuki twitched anxiously in response. He felt completely disorientated, the thoughts in his head were moving too fast to pin down.

He’d tried to respond but his mouth felt dry and his tongue heavy, barely managing to rasp Izuku’s name in a thick croaky voice he wasn’t sure the other could even hear, struggling to lift the medicated fog that wrapped heavily around his mind like a thick blanket. Mingled feelings of relief and fear flitted around his head as he began to remember the carnage and bloodshed- Izuku was here, he had made it out and that alone calmed Katsuki enough to relax back into the bed. But what about everyone else?  Their classmates had been fighting their own battles all over the city. He had barely been able to focus but managed to form a few words, “The others?” Each breath, every swallow and twitch of his head sent fresh waves of pain rippling through his body, black spots threatened to overcome his vision but he fought through it. He could almost feel the other boy hesitating, it made him more distressed. “The class is fine.” Izuku had told him at last in a heavy voice, “You should go back to sleep.” Katsuki could remember thinking how defeated the other teen sounded. He’d ground his teeth together, feeling frustration building in the pit of his stomach that he was so helpless, unable to do anything more than shake and let his eyes fall shut again, slipping back into a fitful rest.

He woke the next day, feeling much more himself and determined to find out exactly what had happened but was immediately shut down by Recovery Girl who insisted he had to stay in bed or risk an even longer ban from training. Though, if he was honest, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve been able to stand up, let alone shake someone down for answers. Katsuki then tried to interrogate Izuku about it but the freckled nerd was annoyingly quiet for a change, spending most of his time with his back to Katsuki facing the bare white walls of the room. It was worrying, to say the least. Katsuki tried to tell himself that Izuku was just recovering from the wounds he’d sustained from All For One, damage that might not ever heal according to Recovery Girl. Izuku might never be able to use his arms in battle again.

Another day crawled by insufferably slowly. The only people allowed in their room had been Recovery Girl and a few different nurses who would bring food and water, all of which had clammed up the second Katsuki tried to ask them for news. He was frustrated with being talked over again and again, his hands tingled with a need to blow something up. So even by his own standards, he was in a lousy mood when their classmates were finally able to visit. Recovery Girl had forbidden the entire class from coming, “Only a few at a time.” She’d said as she’d been checking on their bandages, “If either of you reopens your wounds then I’ll have to put in overtime, and I won’t be quite so nice.” Katsuki snorted, tapping his fingers against the side of the bed impatiently. He’d spent the morning trying to coax a conversation out of Izuku. Well, not so much coax as annoy or tease, but they were solid tactics that usually got a reaction. Today, however, he got nothing more than one-word replies until Katsuki had gotten so annoyed he’d just given up completely. He’d prefer it if Izuku would just yell at him, yelling he understood. Just say Katsuki had made him mad, anything other than this stony silence. It had Katsuki on edge.

He was brought back to the present as he saw Izuku move so he was sat up in the bed facing the door. Katsuki could finally see his face properly for the first time. It looked drawn and tired, eyes that were usually bright stared blankly at the wall and there were dark bags under them. Katsuki briefly wondered how much Izuku had actually been sleeping while he was turned away from him. He thought again about trying to get his attention but then the door swung open, banging against the wall noisily and making Recovery Girl tsk in irritation. Iida was the first through the door, his face was still bruised slightly in places and his wrist had some kind of support on it but other than that he seemed okay. “We are here to represent the class!” The dark-haired teen announced. His good hand gripped a mixture of brightly coloured heart-shaped balloons all with ‘ Get well soon!’ scrawled across them. Katsuki’s eye twitched. He’d never wanted to leave a room more than he had at this moment. The others were filing in now. Including Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, Mina, Kirishima, and Sero were the first ones who’d come to see them. They all bore marks of the battle in some way shape or form. Todoroki had a bandage wrapped around part of his face and Kirishima’s left arm was heavily bandaged. The rest had scratches that had been taped up but it was their expressions that made Katsuki realise something was wrong.

They entered the room with forced smiles which were surprisingly eerie and didn’t match the dullness in their eyes. They all looked so tired. Though when they saw Katsuki and Izuku both sat up in their beds, watching them, they did seem to brighten up. Mina was the first to move forwards, dropping to perch on the edge of Katsuki’s bed with a loud exhalation, “You two had us all worried!” Iida was now tying his balloons to the leg of a table between the two beds and Uraraka hurried forwards carrying an assortment of chocolate that she put on the table as well. She then turned to Izuku with a nervous smile. He was regarding their classmates with a far-away look in his eyes but he did meet Uraraka’s gaze. “We uh- got those mint chocolates you like.” She began awkwardly, “How are you feeling?” Katsuki watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He could tell she was taken aback by Izuku’s state but she was doing a poor job of hiding it. For a moment Katsuki wasn’t sure if the green-haired boy was even going to respond, then, at last, he smiled faintly, though it seemed more like a grimace, and said, “I’m okay.” A brief rush of relief hit Katsuki as he saw the boy sit up a little more, though he still had that glazed expression.

Then Katsuki’s view of them was blocked by Sero and Kirishima who moved a few of the visitors' chairs to crowd around his bed. “It’s so good to see you, man!” Kirishima exclaimed, he had a grin on his face and patted Katsuki on his non-bandaged shoulder as he sat down. “They told us you guys were fine but they wouldn’t let anyone come near you. Are you doing okay?” Katsuki growled and picked at a spot on his bedsheet where the thread had come loose, “I’m just about ready to break out of here, consequences be fucked.” Sero chuckled sympathetically and glanced around at the very clean, very sparse room, “Pretty bored then huh?” Katsuki’s patience was thinning rapidly. He was glad to see them all in one piece but if he had to walk around social niceties to get a straight answer from someone he really was going to lose it. “Not just that,” He snapped, “No one here will tell me anything. What the hell happened after the battle?” He didn’t miss the way Mina caught Kirishima’s eye with a startled expression as he turned to look at each of them in turn. When no one offered up a quick answer Katsuki had to stifle another growl, they were holding something back from him and he knew it. “I know we’re here because the bastard set his Nomu’s loose or whatever and they thought they’d come after us, but why hasn’t anyone told us anything? All Mig-” Katsuki broke off and stared bitterly at his hands. He’d been about to say All Might hasn’t even been to see Deku but he didn’t want Izuku to overhear him. He could hear Todoroki talking faintly in the background so he hoped the other invalid teen hadn’t been listening to him about to point out the obvious but Katsuki was mad the former symbol of peace hadn’t been to see them yet. If anyone could pull Izuku out of whatever stupid funk he was in, it would be All Might.

“Bakugou…” Kirishima started warily, “A lot happened, we’re-” He stopped mid-sentence and glanced helplessly at Sero. “We’re not supposed to say much.” Sero finished for the redhead, “They said you needed more time to heal befo-” “Fuck that.” Katsuki snarled, his stomach was twisted into knots with anticipation. He wanted to stomp his foot like a child. Maybe break something against a wall. If they left without giving him any answers he didn’t know how much longer he’d have to wait to have another chance. They were all watching him with concern and Katsuki realised he’d been gripping the covers tightly in his fists. He let go quickly but he’d already left scorch marks smouldering in the pale blue sheets. He struggled to relax his jaw and tried again, “If I have to lie here one more day without knowing what’s going on out there, I really will get out of bed and find out myself. That sound like a great way to heal to you?”

It was Sero who broke first, “I guess, I don’t think I could stay still either.” He admitted, looking at Kirishima who sighed but murmured in agreement. “He does have a point,” Mina said from where she was still sitting at the end of the bed, “And I wouldn’t put it past him to sneak out.” She stuck her tongue out playfully as Katsuki glowered at her, but he was silently glad to see her acting normal. Kirishima breathed out heavily, slumping forwards in the chair and meeting Katsuki’s gaze. “What do you want to know first?” “How is everyone?” Katsuki asked immediately, “We could only get them to tell us no one else from the class was in hospital but that was pretty much it.” Smiling softly, Kirishima nodded, “Everyone’s okay. Kaminari wanted to come today but he’s still on bed rest.” He waved a hand as Katsuki opened his mouth, “Just in his dorm. He got a pretty bad knock to the head but he’s fine, really.” Katsuki closed his mouth and eyed the others quietly. There was still something they hadn’t told him, he could see it in their faces, in the smiles that looked too fake and the unspoken grief he could feel around them.

“What happened?” Was all he asked, “Something went wrong, didn’t it?” He could almost see their facade’s failing, Kirishima wouldn’t meet his eyes now and seemed very interested in his hands while Sero leaned further back into his chair, tugging subconsciously at the hem of his shirt. Mina’s head dropped and Katsuki could see her bottom lip trembling as she stared down at the floor, when Kirishima offered a hand to her she took it and clutched it tightly, like a lifeline. Her entire demeanour changed in a few short moments. Whatever had happened, it really distressed her. There was another silent moment before Kirishima started talking again, “You were there when Aizawa sensei was hit with a quirk deleter round?” Katsuki nodded grimly, “He took his own leg off, I saw.” The redhead winced, “He’s still recovering, it was bad.” “But he’ll be okay?” It was Sero who answered, “We haven’t been able to see him yet but Shinsou said he’s doing better.” Katsuki wanted to relax but the other’s tone of voice sounded heavy. “There’s something else…” Kirishima began, “When we were trying to keep Gigantomachia from reaching the city we…” Another deep breath and his bright red eyes looked watery. “We lost Midnight.” Mina’s shoulders shook and her body convulsed in a choked sob but Katsuki could only stare in disbelief. Midnight had been their teacher for almost a year, she couldn’t just be gone. Katsuki’s focus wavered, his mind drifting. He could tell from their reactions what they meant and felt a deep pit open in his stomach. After everything that had happened, all the fighting, he never thought they’d actually lose someone. God, he was fucking naive.

The others gave him a little while to process it and Katsuki found himself wishing for the umpteenth time that he was anywhere else. “Bakugou?” Sero asked eventually and Katsuki quickly returned his attention to them. Mina’s eyes were red around the edges and he knew now why they all looked so drained. “How did it happen?” He managed to ask. His body felt oddly numb but when he spoke his voice sounded unsteady, even to himself. Mina leant forwards and breathed out shakily, “W- we don’t really know. We hadn’t heard from her and then we just found her, lying there.” Tears trailed down her pink cheeks and she lifted her free hand as if she was reaching for something. “I was- I held her hand.” Her voice ended in a whisper, dark eyes hazy. Katsuki shifted uncomfortably, glancing away. He didn’t like being confined in one space for moments like this, it made him feel nervous as if he were trapped. Kirishima was trying to comfort Mina though he seemed just as broken down himself. Sero watched them sadly for a moment before glancing back at Katsuki, “Other heroes were killed too. No one we knew well but they got the number 6 hero, Crust.” The dark-haired teen hesitated before continuing as if he wasn’t sure how much he should say. “Most of the big heroes are out of action. Hawks and Endeavour are still in bad condition, Miruko as well. But they’ll heal.” He sounded unsure of himself. The numbness settled a little deeper into Katsuki and he closed his eyes. All the destruction he’d seen from Shigaraki’s quirk and then Gigantomachia tearing the city apart, he didn’t want to ask about civilian casualties.

There was silence then, nothing more to say really. Sero returned to consoling the other two, whether he was unsure of how to do the same for Katsuki or thought the blonde wanted the space Katsuki couldn’t tell, but he was grateful for it. During the break from their conversation, he tried to focus on what his other classmates were saying to Izuku. They’d arranged themselves near the freckled teen’s head and Uraraka was saying something in an upbeat voice. “Recovery Girl said you’d be okay to go outside for a bit,” the round-faced girl was saying, “Stretch your legs, maybe see Eri. She’s worried about you.” Todoroki and Iida murmured agreement but Katsuki could make out Izuku’s face between Kirishima and Sero now, he still had his eyes fixed downwards with that subdued look on his face. Katsuki wondered if they’d told Izuku about Midnight or if they thought he couldn’t handle it yet. “Maybe.” Izuku replied, Katsuki was vaguely relieved to hear this voice sounding a little louder, “I’m still really tired.” Uraraka and Iida exchanged glances. “We can uh- leave you to rest a bit more?” Iida asked though he sounded like he didn’t want to. When Izuku simply nodded mutely and settled back down into the bed, turning to face his back to them, Iida’s face fell. He said something quietly to Todoroki and Uraraka that Katsuki couldn’t make out but the three of them got up and made their way dejectedly towards Mina and the others. Katsuki wanted to yell at them to keep talking to him but he just stared worriedly at Izuku’s back, if he was refusing to talk to his friends, how could Katsuki get him to say anything?

Uraraka joined Mina at the foot of the bed, Katsuki felt the mattress shift beneath her weight as she put her head in her hands. Mina patted her on the back and Iida stood in front of her, looking concerned. Todoroki had come to stand closer to the Katsuki. He leaned forwards slightly, “Has he said anything to you?” He asked quietly, his eyes were anxious and Katsuki knew he was just as worried about Izuku. Katsuki wrinkled his face, not pleased with the fact he hadn’t, “No.” He returned to picking at the loose thread on his mattress. For a second, he thought he saw Todoroki smile faintly as if Katsuki’s reaction had amused him. But when he looked up, it was gone. “I feel so helpless,” Uraraka said through her hands, catching the blonde’s attention again. “He’s just…” She trailed off miserably and looked back up at the rest of them. Iida reached out to rest his hand tentatively on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. She gave him a weak smile in reply but still looked close to tears. Katsuki hated to agree with her but as he glanced across at the pitiful figure of Izuku, still curled up against the wall, his heart thumped uncomfortably hard in his chest. He felt like he needed to confront something, preferably something physical. If he could just get out of bed and blow off some steam maybe he’d be able to think clearly. But no. He was trapped here, in bed, with a bunch of emotional teenagers and no anger outlet. Definitely a worst-case scenario.

Katsuki finally drew his eyes away from Izuku as he saw Kirishima shift in his chair. He exchanged an apprehensive look with Sero and opened his mouth as if he were going to say something more. “Bakugou...” But Iida cut in before he could get anywhere. “We should let you get some rest.” Iida fixed Kirishima with a pointed look and the spiky-haired teen glanced away, still looking guilty. They all made a move to get up but Katsuki spoke first. He wasn’t going to let them leave without telling him the truth. The whole truth. “What are you hiding from me now?” He demanded, his voice bitter. He’d had enough of all the secrets now. More glances were exchanged between the visiting party and Katsuki furrowed his brow even deeper. “Tell me or get the fuck out.” He snapped at them, patience far beyond gone. If they wanted to keep shit from him, that was fine. Well, it wasn’t actually but he didn’t want them here if that was the case and if they kept looking at him like some fragile thing he was going to go feral.

Iida sighed at Katsuki’s brash tone and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He cast a look over his shoulder at where Izuku lay unmoving and shuffled closer to Katsuki, speaking in a low voice as if he didn’t want the other teen to hear him. “None of the teachers wanted us to tell you, but…”  Another pause as he built up the nerve to continue. Katsuki blinked in surprise and his anger faded slightly. Iida going rogue? The strict class representative was finally getting interesting. Iida stole a glance at where Recovery Girl was sitting in her usual chair in the far corner, head bowed as if she were dozing. She certainly wasn’t paying them any attention. “You’re being kept behind U.A’s defences because not long after Shigaraki disappeared, he sent his Nomu’s to Tartarus.” A cold feeling was beginning to settle in Katsuki’s stomach, “All For One’s prison.” He murmured. Iida nodded gravely, “Yes. Most of the top pro-heroes were still out of action or unaccounted for- There was no one to stop him. He took back his real body and broke out some more nasty criminals along the way. No one’s seen him since.”  

If All For One had his body back and control of Shigaraki’s powers as well as the Nomu, everything they’d sacrificed… Had it done anything? Katsuki shook his head as if shaking away the thought. No, he couldn’t think like that. They’d saved most of the city just by holding Shigaraki down, Gigantomachia too, it hadn’t been useless. He side-eyed Izuku’s bed again. Was it just his imagination or had the boy shifted slightly in his peripheral vision? Returning his attention to the others, Katsuki clenched his fists. Though he wasn’t happy that they were being guarded, he could admit it made a lot of sense. The U.A Barrier was pretty formidable but he wasn’t sure it could hold off the bastard if he really wanted to get to them. Another flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and Katsuki was sure of it now. “You should go.” He said to them. Kirishima started, “W- Bakugou, are-” Rolling his eyes, Katsuki interrupted him. “I’m sure, Shitty-Hair. Get going, I want to sleep.” The redhead hesitated then nodded slowly and got up. The others said their goodbyes and did the same, stacking the visitors’ chairs back up and piling them in the corner before heading for the door.

Katsuki was so focused on watching Izuku for more movement he didn’t realise Todoroki was lingering by the edge of his bed until he coughed. The other teen kept his voice low as he said to Katsuki, “You’ll talk to him, won’t you?” Katsuki knew what he meant instantly and scowled, “What do you think I’m doing, bastard?” Now piss off.” Todoroki backed off, but Katsuki could see that same knowing smile on his face as he turned away. Though he tried not to focus on it, Katsuki’s face felt flushed and he glared angrily at Todoroki’s retreating back. Soon, their classmates were gone and the room felt bare once again. Though Katsuki had been sure Recovery Girl was asleep, the moment the door swung shut she got slowly to her feet. The old medic gave Katsuki a wry smile. “I’ve got other things to get done. You two rest.” She paused, “and heal .” The emphasis she put on the last word made Katsuki uncomfortable again and he was sure she knew exactly what they’d been talking about. Then she left and it was just the two of them.

Katsuki took a deep breath and glanced across at the other bed. Izuku was still, his back turned to the room, looking pretty much dead to the world like he had done for the last few days. But Katsuki had been sure he’d seen him twitch when Iida had spoken of All For One. He was awake, and he must have heard what their classmates had said. “You should talk to them.” He said before he could lose his nerve. Izuku stiffened from across the room and Katsuki waited before continuing, “They’re worried about you.” The silence between them stretched longer and Katsuki was sure Izuku would just ignore him as he had done since he’d woken up here until finally, he shifted. “And tell them what?” The green-haired boy’s voice sounded so tired and bitter that Katsuki winced. He’d never seen Izuku so hopeless before. He’d always been the first to bounce back from everything, it was one of his most irritating qualities. “The truth. They want to help you, idiot.” More silence, then at last, “What is the truth?” Even quieter than before and Katsuki had to strain to hear it. Katsuki blinked, “Huh?” What the hell was he talking about? Izuku rolled onto his back and Katsuki caught a glimpse of his face. It was streaked with tears, more running silently down his cheeks and Katsuki’s chest tightened painfully. “The truth,” Izuku repeated, his voice catching in his throat. “That I wasn’t able to stop All For One. I was given this power to be a hero and I couldn’t even protect the people I care about the most.” Katsuki gawked incredulously at him, “ That’s what you’ve been upset about?” He demanded, “You have got to be the thickest person I h-” He broke off abruptly as Izuku lifted one of his heavily bandaged arms in front of his face. “Hey! Stop it. You’re not supposed to move them.” But the freckled teen didn’t seem to hear him, “All For One was right.” He murmured, “I’m worthless, I don’t deserve this power.”

Katsuki could only stare at him in shock- It was one of the last things he’d expected Izuku to be hung up over after everything he’d seen him accomplish in a single year. He struggled vainly to find something to say. This was the exact opposite of what he was good at. Izuku had dropped his hand back to his side, staring emptily at the ceiling, and Katsuki’s stomach twisted painfully again. Part of him just wanted to yell at the dumbass about how, well, dumb he was being. Could he not see everything he’d done? All the lives he’d saved? But his mouth felt thick and heavy, his heart pounded so loud now and he had to bite down on his tongue to stop from cursing himself. This was pathetic, not even able to tell Izuku, someone he’d been willing to die for, that he was impressed with him. What kind of person did he have to be to find jumping in front of those spikes easier than admitting he was wrong? If he was doing this it would be his way. The first step was to make Izuku realise how stupid he sounded.

“Deku.” He said after a few minutes of silence had passed, “Come here a second.” Wide confused eyes stared at him, “W-what?” “Come here.” He repeated. “Why?” Katsuki’s eye twitched, “Because I can’t get up and- Fuck’s sake, just move it!” The bedsheets rustled softly as Izuku pushed them aside and slowly got up. It was a bit awkward, not being able to use his arms to prop himself up, but he managed it and then stood there, pausing for a moment before he walked cautiously over to where Katsuki lay. He stopped near the top of the bed and Katsuki huffed in annoyance, beckoning the other one closer. Izuku still looked confused but shuffled another few steps forwards, leaning down until he was close enough for Katsuki to whack him upside the head. It wasn’t a particularly hard hit but Izuku still yelped and stared at Katsuki in disbelief, “What was that for?!” He whined loudly. Katsuki couldn’t help but smile slightly at the indignance in his voice, it felt like a long time since Izuku’s voice had sounded anything but broken. “Negative reinforcement,” he said, “When you say something stupid about yourself, I get to hit you.” Narrowed green eyes met his own but he was sure they seemed more focused than before. Katsuki sighed, shifting in his bed. “You really think you didn’t do anything to help?”

Izuku was watching him closely, his expression clouded with an emotion Katsuki couldn’t bring himself to figure out. But he didn’t reply so Katsuki continued. “For starters, the second you realised Shigaraki could track you, you led him away from the evacuation. Which was pretty fucking stupid because you tried to do it without telling anyone.” Izuku snorted but didn’t interrupt, he’d stopped crying now which was a win, right? Katsuki had to tear his eyes away from the teen, the itchiness he felt was back, crawling all over his skin until he ground his teeth together, hard. “Then you unlocked float,” Katsuki counted it down on his fingers as if he were making a list, “ And used blackwhip to keep everyone from being destroyed by decay.” Another finger down. “Kacchan…” Izuku said hesitantly and Katsuki glanced back up at him. Freckles stood out against a bright red face and he took another step forwards so he was right next to Katsuki’s bed. Katsuki raised an eyebrow, he was sure his own face was flushed too but he managed to keep his voice steady as he said, “What? Are you saying you didn’t do that?” Izuku shook his head slowly and Katsuki could swear he saw the hint of a smile begin to tug at his lips. “Exactly. Now shut the fuck up and let me tell it.” He heard a soft chuckle to his side and blinked rapidly, trying to remember where he’d stopped. It was an effort to keep talking. He didn’t like that reassuring someone else meant he had to say embarrassing things like this. “You managed to stop All For One from stealing your power then still got up and kept fighting him again. Am I missing anything?” Izuku was stood with his bowed, dark hair in his face but Katsuki could hear him sniffing and figured he was crying again.

Shoulders shaking slightly, Izuku looked back up and yep. He was definitely crying again. “I could only do that because you saved me! You, Lemillion, Todoroki, Iida, you all helped me. And I couldn’t even stop you from getting hurt!” Another sob shook him, “If I can’t protect the people I care about, what good am I?” Katsuki frowned and rapped Izuku’s head with his knuckles again. It wasn’t as hard as the first time, more like he was trying to knock some sense into him but it still made Izuku start. He stared at him, the tears in his eyes glittered in the harsh hospital lights and Katsuki faltered. He was sure his stomach was now trying to escape his body by making him want to throw it up but he drew in another breath to steady himself. “That’s our job, dumbass. We’re all trying to save as many people as we can.” Izuku shook his head, he moved forwards somewhat uncertainly to perch on the edge of the bed. It dipped slightly under his weigh and Katsuki moved further back towards the wall so Izuku could turn to face him, now sitting cross-legged on the sheets which took a degree of shuffling around. Katsuki was very aware of how Izuku’s knees were pressed against his side on the small space. It was through the sheets but he was sure he could feel it. When the other didn’t say anything about their new position, Izuku started again. “With One For All though, I’m meant to save everyone. That’s what I was given it for.” His gaze fell again, “Midnight, everyone who was killed, I should’ve saved them. But I couldn’t do it. I shouldn’t have this power.” He went silent, looking even more miserable. “They told you?” Katsuki asked. He tried to stay quiet but he was surprised Iida or either of the others would’ve said anything to him. Izuku shook his head glumly, “I heard the nurses talking when they thought I was asleep.”

Katsuki regarded him with a sad expression, that must’ve been why he’d been in such a slump, learning that their teacher was killed for the very thing he believed he should’ve prevented. He’d had the worlds biggest burden dropped on his shoulders in the middle of a war, but he wouldn’t ask anyone to help him carry it. Which was Katsuki’s fault. All through their childhood and then their teenage years, Izuku had just wanted to be included, he always tried so hard never to be a burden. Izuku glanced back up as he heard the other boy sigh, his face tinged pink, probably from all the crying, and Katsuki tried again. “Deku. You can’t save everyone, not all the time.” Izuku flinched and Katsuki hurried on, “Not even All Might could do that so stop putting so much pressure on yourself.” Those bright eyes were staring at him so intensely now but Katsuki couldn’t stop, Izuku had to hear this. He swallowed dryly, “All For One, One for All, they’re both cursed powers.” Izuku tilted his head to the side, “They’re not the same though,” He protested, “One For All is meant to help people.” Shaking his head, Katsuki struggled to sit up taller, ignoring Izuku’s worried protests. He had to make Izuku understand this. It was something he’d realised pretty soon after All Might told them about the other wielders of Izuku’s power.

“Just fucking listen, okay. One For All is only as good as whoever uses it. Every one of its past users died alone, trying to stop All For One because they thought like you. They thought they had to fight that bastard on their own so no one else would get hurt, but that’s exactly why they all died.” He stared straight into Izuku’s eyes, willing him to realise it. “If you keep trying to win by yourself then you’ll get killed. You have to let other people help you.” “But what if you get hurt again? What if you get killed? I don’t want that to happen!” Izuku’s voice was insistent, his eyes were set in the way Katsuki could tell he was going to be stubborn about it and his own temper flared up in retaliation. “What, and you think I’ll be okay if you die?!” The words were out of his mouth before he could think about them but he felt the heat creeping into his face as he realised what he said. It did succeed in silencing Izuku however, and Katsuki took the opportunity to keep talking. “Even if you did manage to defeat All For One, it wouldn’t be a victory for any of us-” He willed himself to say it again, “For me, if you get killed.” The heat was now spreading down his neck and he dropped his head to avoid Izuku’s gaze, frustration or something else was making his own vision blurry. The other boy was quiet and Katsuki very much wanted to curl up in a hole somewhere and think about what he’d just said for a few years or so. He resented how difficult this was. Neither of them moved until Katsuki heard Izuku sniff. He looked up in surprise to see more tears on the boys face. Had he said something wrong? Katsuki started to move forward and opened his mouth but Izuku shook his head, rubbing the tears off his cheeks with his shoulder. “Sorry, Kacchan. I’m just-” He sounded hoarse but there was a soft smile on his face, “When I was fighting Shigaraki, all I could think about was what would happen to you and everyone else that I-” “That you didn’t think about yourself.” Katsuki finished with a sigh, “I fucking hate that about you. Can’t be a hero if you’re dead, can you?” He’d meant it to be a rebuke but Izuku’s smile widened even more and he laughed. A proper laugh, the first time Katsuki had heard in what felt like forever, and he couldn’t help but relax at the sound of it. Okay, this sucked and he felt itchy all over, but it was rewarding to see the enthusiasm return to Izuku’s face.

The laugh faded and Izuku returned to staring at Katsuki with such a fond expression that he felt a sharp twinge of guilt in his gut. He knew Izuku had only ever wanted to be close again, like how it had been when they were kids, and he was still waiting after everything that Katsuki had done to him. Part of him wished Izuku would just hate him, it would be easier to understand for one thing. “Kacchan, thank you.” The soft voice broke him out of his thoughts, “Everything All For One said to me…” He trailed off and stared at his arms, still thickly bandaged and splinted. “I thought I had gotten past it but it made me feel so useless. I guess I’m still just Deku.” He said it so sadly that Katsuki felt the twinge grow into a gut-wrenching pain. That stupid nickname. Izuku had tried to reclaim it but it seemed he didn’t really believe it himself. Katsuki probably could have pulled his heart right out of his throat at this point, “Well, duh, Deku. You said you were always gonna try your best, right?” He tried to make it sound casual, but he was admitting to something he'd known for a while. That Deku hadn't meant worthless for a very long time.

The look of surprise on Izuku’s face only lasted for a second before his eyes filled with tears yet again, his bottom lip trembling as he sobbed out, “Kacchan.” Then he was launching himself towards Katsuki who promptly stiffened in shock. It was an incredibly uncomfortable hug to manoeuvre, it would've been without the weird position. Izuku couldn’t lift his arms so he sort of squished himself against Katsuki’s side, face mashed between Katsuki’s shoulder and neck. Katsuki’s heart was going haywire, he didn’t even notice the pain in his side and very slowly, he wrapped his good arm around Izuku’s shoulders, patting him clumsily on the back as he cried against his collarbone. “You’re pathetic,” He mumbled, uncomfortable with the silence, “Moping around for days and making everyone worry, bastard.” Izuku laughed between deep breaths, trying to stifle his sobs. “Should’ve said something earlier.” Izuku twisted his head so it was laying on Katsuki’s shoulder, “You’re meant to be nice to me, I’m upset.” He said though Katsuki could feel his lips curved in a smile against his skin. His face felt like it was on fire now, “This is me being nice, and you’re always upset about something.” “I know, thank you.” The other replied. Katsuki’s skin tingled where Izuku’s eyelashes fluttered against his neck, still blinking away tears. Katsuki wasn’t sure what to say after that. It was complicated. He knew Izuku needed him right now, but Katsuki hadn’t done enough to deserve it yet. It felt wrong to be so content that he was the one Izuku reached out for. Just be there for him now, he decided, be there for him and try harder to earn it.

He wasn’t sure exactly when Izuku fell asleep on him. At some point, his breathing evened out and he’d relaxed against Katsuki’s side. The blonde was still too wired to relax. Who knew a conversation could fill him with such adrenaline, he was struggling not to shift around and wake Izuku up. The boy had looked so tired, with everything he’d been holding in it wasn’t a surprise that he’d not gotten any peace. Katsuki hoped he would sleep soundly now. He was still awake when Recovery Girl stepped back into the room. She took one look at the two of them, curled up together on Katsuki’s bed and he was sure she’d say something about how they should be resting in separate beds, maybe she had to check their wounds or something and Izuku would be forced to move. He couldn’t lie that the thought made him a bit panicked. But she simply gave him a strange look, one eyebrow half-raised as if she were asking him a question. When Katsuki didn’t move the old lady shrugged, turning to leave again. She flicked off the light as she did so, leaving the room in dappled shadows as the sun sank lower in the sky. Was it that late already? He hadn’t noticed the time passing by but he was starting to feel tired. Emotions were just as draining, sometimes more so, than being in a fight, and Katsuki certainly felt like a battle had been won in that room today.

With a sigh, Katsuki accepted there wasn’t much more he could do at the moment. The warmth of Izuku against his side made him feel drowsy and he finally gave in- shifting in the bed as carefully as he could until he was lying down. He wrapped his arm a little more firmly against Izuku and smiled faintly as he felt him hum in response, pressing closer to Katsuki’s chest. Izuku was lying on top of the sheets and there wasn’t any way to get him under them without waking him up but there was a spare pile of blankets that rested on the chair closest to Katsuki’s bed and he managed to drag a couple closer to him, draping them over Izuku’s form. With that sorted, Katsuki could relax. He rested his head gently against the mass of green curls and let his eyes drift shut, trying to empty his mind. It didn’t matter if All For One was out to get them or if Izuku’s arms wouldn’t heal right. They were both alive for now, and they would figure it out.

[monstersdownthepath]

Spiritual Spotlight: Hanspur, the Water Rat (and Ashkaelae)

Chaotic Neutral God of Rivers, River Travel, and Smugglers

Domains: Chaos, Death, Travel, Water Subdomains: Exploration, Murder, Rivers, Trade

Inner Sea Faiths, pg. 58~63

Obedience: With the assistance of another priest of Hanspur or by yourself, simulate the act of drowning. You can do this by fully submerging yourself in a body of water, exhaling all of your breath, and painfully inhaling water instead of air. Alternatively, you can lie on your back with your head at a lower elevation than your legs while water is slowly poured on your face and up your nose. If you choose the latter method, you must cover your face with a cloth while the water is poured. When you conclude this simulated drowning, contemplate your life and how your goals coincide with the teachings of Hanspur and the Six River Freedoms. Benefit: You gain a +4 sacred or profane bonus on Survival checks attempted while on or near rivers.

Just reading this makes my sinuses burn and my lungs itch, and not just because it’s springtime and I have allergies! As anyone who’s ever been in a body of water large enough to slap their face with a wave can attest to, inhaling large amounts of water sucks. While this Obedience requires only one wet breath, some... well, some pretty severe complications can arise from it, if your DM ponders even slightly what doing this to yourself every day would do. Dry drowning and secondary drowning are both real dangers from brief immersion, let alone concentrated efforts at simulating one of the worst fates someone can experience (I say this a lot but basically anything that deprives you of air is pretty terrible). The ‘simulation’ will likely only last a few seconds while the rest of the hour is spent recovering from your experience and meditating, but even that may not be enough to offset the fluid likely building up in your lungs. Priests of Hanspur must sound atrocious, coughing themselves ragged every day! No wonder it’s recommended your ritual is overseen by another priest, either, because they’d likely be skilled in helping you manage your symptoms.

Dangers of daily drownings aside, keeping up with the demands of this ritual is pretty easy so long as you’re somewhere with easy access to water. In Hanspur’s homelands, the River Kingdoms, this is pathetically simple! Everywhere else? It’s a lot harder! While I do appreciate that there’s a secondary ritual you can do if total immersion is impossible, but what happens if you’re stuck somewhere with no easy water access? Your waterskins won’t carry you for very long, even if you pilfer them from your party as well. Better invest in a Decanter of Endless Water! Or do something ridiculous like fill the party’s Bag of Holding up so you can just hop in and out whenever you need to.

That benefit is also the weakest I’ve seen in a long time, granting a bonus to only a single skill type and only while near rivers. Survival checks aren’t even all that commonly made, unless your DM is kind enough to let you use Survival to navigate with river rafts rather than Profession or Ride checks. Hanspur really doesn’t want his faithful straying too far from the River Kingdoms, which is only further exacerbated by how his Boons work, so if you’re not the type to linger near rivers you may just want to skip him entirely.

Boons are gathered slowly, typically obtained when a given character has 12, 16, and 20 hit dice. Unlike fiend-worshipers, servants of the Eldest, and devoted of the Empyreal Lords, characters worshiping Neutral gods do not have catch-all classes… but Neutral-aligned characters can enter the Evangelist, Sentinel, and Exalted Prestige Classes earlier than Evil characters, classing in as early as level 6 (they need +5 BAB, 5 ranks in a single skill, or the ability to cast lvl 3 spells); entered ASAP, one can gain the Boons at levels 8, 11, and 14. 

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EVANGELIST

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Boon 1: River Sage. Gain Hydraulic Push 3/day, River Whip 2/day, or Hydraulic Torrent 1/day.

Hydraulic Push and Hydraulic Torrent live in the same niche of “giant water spouts what push stuff around,” with Torrent being obviously an order of magnitude more powerful than Push. While Push has a range of Close and can target only a single creature or square, Torrent is a 60ft line that Bull Rushes or attempts to destroy everything it encounters, so it really depends on if you’re thinking you’ll need three small streams or one really, really big one. Notably, Torrent can Bull Rush targets of any size, unrestricted by the limits of your pathetic frame, while Push contains no such limiter removal and thus likely means you can only blast creatures up to a size larger than you.

Also of note, Torrent attempts to shatter everything it comes into contact with until it runs into something or someone it cannot destroy or push past. The Strength score the Torrent uses is equal to your caster level plus your casting ability modifier, meaning it will start out barely stronger than you are but will eventually be able to punch holes in iron and shatter stone. Hell, with a lucky roll, it may be able to do that anyway. Your choice on which two to take wholly depends on if you want to push three Medium critters around or launch one Colossal one.

What? River Whip? I don’t see any spell like that here! Lets move on! (alright alright; i just don’t like it. it’s good as an emergency weapon but more or less anything else is better in any scenario)

Boon 2: River Scion. As a free action you can breathe underwater, as if affected by Water Breathing, for a number of hours per day equal to the number of Hit Dice you possess. These hours need not be used consecutively, but must be used in 1-hour increments.

A disappointingly weak Boon. Really, what else is there to see or say? If you need to go underwater, this ability is great and has zero downsides. If you don’t, this Boon doesn’t exist. It’s a very binary Boon that relies on your environment, which means that if you’re overjoyed if you’ve remained in the River Kingdoms, but in a desert or jungle or mountain peak, you’re going to be extremely disappointed upon hitting level 11.

Boon 3: River’s Embodiment. 1/day as a standard action, you can transform yourself into a Huge water elemental, as per Elemental Body IV. You can stay in this form for 1 minute per Hit Die you possess, and can dismiss this effect as a free action.

Finally, a transformation ability that doesn’t suck! What does suck is that this is a level 7 spell being granted to you 1/day, when other Boons are equivalent to level 9 spells in power. Hanspur could have at least given you a little bonus on top of it, or made it 2/day, but it’s hard to complain about the force you become under Elemental Body IV. You become immune to bleed, critical hits, Sneak Attacks, and on top of it all get insurmountable DR 5, and the stack of stats you get? Mmmm-mm! Chef’s kiss!

+6 AC, +8 Con, +4 Str, all for the price of -2 Dex (more than made up for with the +AC). And, of course, a swim speed and the power to collapse yourself into a destructive Vortex, but those are only useful if you’re in water, while the rest of the stat buffs are far more universally useful. You’re not exactly the destructive and terrifying Fire Elemental or the deceptively sneaky Earth Elemental, but a wall of surging water can still wreak all manner of havoc on your enemies, your new dual slams able to smash ships (and bones) to pieces, and since Water Elementals are capable of speech and gesture, you can merely bask in your new tank stats while still casting spells.

There’s also the much more amusing but niche use of transforming while already polymorphed by a hostile effect, as having a new polymorph effect used on you while you’re already changed can end the first automatically.

While I wish the effect was usable more often, or at least broken into 1-minute increments, I can’t call it a bad Boon by any means.

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EXALTED

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Boon 1: River Guide. Gain Obscuring Mist 3/day, Haunting Mists2/day, or Aqueous Orb 1/day.

I love the name of this ability because two of the three spells do the opposite of guiding people. Now I’m a big fan of Obscuring Mist; it’s a simple staple in my list for almost every caster I make just because of how versatile it is! But now that I know there’s an alternative, it may have competition. Both Obscuring Mist and Haunting Mists do roughly the same thing, but one could argue that Haunting Mists does it better; in addition to granting concealment and shutting off an enemy’s eyes, it deals 1d2 Wisdom damage and shakes up anyone starting their turn inside the mist... But as a Figment spell with the Fear descriptor, there are a great many creatures immune to its unique power, and True Seeing allows one to see through it perfectly, whereas Obscuring Mist remains impenetrable to the apex predator of the Illusion school.

While it cannot be dispelled by wind or motion like a tangible fog, it’s important to note that there’s no way to protect specific creatures from the sanity-damaging effects of Haunting Mists, and its casting distance of 20ft and 20ft spread means that you will likely always be caught in its radius. The range means using it offensively is painfully limited, unless you want to cast it from invisibility after sneaking into the middle of an enemy formation, which... you probably, definitely don’t want to make a habit of.

It’s great for covering your retreat, but not your advance or setup like the normal Mist is.

Aqueous Orb is a good choice if your party is getting screwed over by the mist more than the enemy, creating a big ol’ 10ft ball of water that intercepts and engulfs anything that moves into it, or which it moves into. It deals 2d6 nonlethal damage whenever it rams into a creature and a further 2d6 to everything it has engulfed each round, but the damage isn’t so much the main draw as the fact it’s a massive, roving Sphere of Grappling, snaring and drowning any creature it manages to get ahold of if they fail the Reflex save. It’s a fun little spell that’s great for mopping up and controlling minions, especially ones you don’t actually want to kill, and even at its worst it can become a makeshift barrier in a narrow hallway since there’s no written way to actually move through it beyond wasting 2, 3, or more rounds by slamming into it and swimming through to the other side while your party books it in the other direction.

Boon 2: River Traveler. As a free action, you can grant yourself and any allies within 30 feet of you a swim speed of 60 feet. This effect lasts for 1 round per Hit Die you possess or until you dismiss it as a free action, whichever comes first. Your allies must remain within 30 feet of you or lose this benefit. In addition, you gain a +2 profane or sacred bonus on saves against spells with the Water descriptor.

See, this should have been added to River Scion as a bonus. River Scion and River Traveler feel like they could have combined into a single Boon to make something decent, but as it is they both fall into the same niche: Solves the encounter they’re meant to solve, useless otherwise. This ability is noteworthy for having no restrictions about how many times it can be used, essentially letting you switch swimming off and on at will. The fact it doesn’t take an action is incredibly important, because using the massive 60ft swim speed the ability grants actually removes the bonus, as getting further than 30ft from you makes it fizzle.

I don’t really understand why it would grant 60ft of movespeed if they’re restricted to a 30ft bubble, nor do I understand the purpose of the bubble in the first place. It makes exploration a slog, and escape scenarios more finicky than they should be. Since it can be activated whenever you need to as a free action, the duration feels unneeded. There’s so much about this ability that conflicts with itself that it bugs me too much to say much in the way of positives. The +2 to saves vs Water spells is a fun little ribbon, though most Water spells tend to be harmless utility spells rather than ones you’d need to make a save against.

Boon 3: River’s Depths. 1/day as a standard action, you can cause one creature within 30 feet to begin drowning, filling its lungs with water. The target of this ability can attempt a Fortitude save (DC = 10 + 1/2 your HD + your Wis mod) to negate the effect. If the target succeeds, it is staggered for 1 round. If it fails, the target immediately begins to suffocate. On the target’s next turn, it falls unconscious and is reduced to 0 hit points. One round later, the target drops to –1 hit points and is dying. One round after that, the target dies. Each round, the target can attempt a Fortitude save to end the effect. This ability affects only living creatures that must breathe and cannot breathe underwater. This is a curse effect.

Now this one’s just insulting, being a technically weaker version of a level 5 spell, Suffocation. It’s weaker in four ways: 1) It fails against creatures which are amphibious which, if you’re in the River Kingdoms, is many. 2) It’s curse effect, which can mean some creatures are resistant or immune to it. 3) It has a 30ft range, unlike Suffocation’s range of Close (25ft + 5ft/level). And, finally, 4) Just ONE successful save ends the effect entirely, while Suffocation continues to torment and stagger the victim for 3 rounds until its effects finally expire.

It’s hard to ignore fact that it’s a basically a Save-Or-Die with excellent DC scaling, but I can’t get over it being weaker than an existing level 5 spell! ... Granted, Suffocation could probably get away with being bumped an extra level or two higher given how frighteningly effective it is at shutting down any creature who needs to breathe even if they succeed their save. I’m probably slamming down too hard on an ability that, again, is a Save-Or-Die at best and an unavoidable stagger at worst (good for making some emergency repairs against a powerful full-attacker), and for extra fun can be used without any components involved, so you can just drop it on someone out of the blue and they’ll have no idea who just tried to kill them. While I am disappointed it doesn’t meet the power of other Boons, it’s undeniably effective against a large portion of the creatures you’ll be fighting, even at 1/day.

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SENTINEL

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Boon 1: River Warden. Gain Wave Shield 3/day, Masterwork Transformation 2/day, or Quench 1/day.

Wave Shield is one of those rare spells that are amazing to have, but not especially good to prepare or to waste a precious Spells Known slot on. It’s an immediate action spell that grants insurmountable DR and Fire Resistance equal to half your caster level in response to a single incoming attack, which isn’t stupendous at low levels but is a generous equivalent to immediate, on-demand temporary HP as you get higher and higher level. If a creature relies on a lot of little hits rather than a few big ones, blocking even one of them can save you in the long run, and if your DR cancels out the damage from a poisoned or diseased attack, all the better!

It’s not an especially strong spell given how it only works once before fading away, but it’s better than the other two options by a country mile. Masterwork Transformation is something you’ll rarely need more than a few times in a campaign before masterwork items fall into your laps (or you can simply buy them), and by the time you gain this ability it will likely no longer matter. That being said, if you’re in a low-wealth campaign or have been forced to scavenge for your gear, Masterwork Transformation will save you THOUSANDS of gp over the course of your life, because as a spell-like, the material components are ignored and thus you can slowly upgrade your entire party’s armaments for free. Given its ability to affect a generous 50 pieces of ammunition per casting as well means the Ranger and Gunslinger will adore you, and you can work in tandem with a mystic craftsman (PC or otherwise) to get all of your favorite gear enchanted without discarding your precious family heirloom sword for that masterwork one you looted.

Not to mention the simple joy in taking all the gear off a bandit clan, Masterworking all of it, and selling it for a tidy profit.

Compared to the combat utility of Wave Shield and noncombat utility of Masterwork Transformation, it’s hard to make a case for Quench, which falls into the category of ‘niche spell’ like Water Breathing and Water Walking in that it will instantly solve a handful of scenarios and be utterly useless in the rest. Yes, you may need to put out a forest fire or stop a building you’re in from burning to a crisp, but you’ll have to decide if it’s worth giving up three emergency DR 4/-- and Fire Resistance 4 bandages... as the martial-focused Sentinel. If you plan on fighting a fire that day or encountering a magic item that can generate fires (which Quench shuts off for 1d4 hours) and no one else in your party bothered learning Quench, by all means, but as the Sentinel having the DR is probably better in most cases.

Boon 2: River Champion. 3/day as a standard action, you can sculpt water into the form of a melee weapon that you are proficient with. You must have enough water to form the weapon, an amount equal to the weapon’s normal weight. Once formed, the weapon behaves as a weapon of its type with an enhancement bonus of +1, which increases by 1 for every 5 additional HD you have beyond 5 (max +4). This weapon deals double damage to creatures with the Fire subtype. The weapon dissolves into ordinary water after a number of rounds equal to your HD or as soon as it leaves your hand, whichever happens first.

Boons which call weapons to your hand are alright in cases where your signature weapon has been taken from you, and by the time you receive this ability you will have a signature weapon, but such times tend to come few and far between. This one also has the additional caveat that you don’t actually create the weapon from nowhere, there must already be water around to make it, at least enough water to match the weapon’s typical weight. The good news is that a gallon of water weighs about 8 pounds, and a trident--Hanspur’s holy weapon--weighs only 4, with most other weapons barely ever approaching 10, so you can reasonably carry around an emergency weapon in a waterskin or in your backpack... And you know, now that I think about it, it’s kind of cool to be able to turn a glass of water into a dagger.

But when will you need to? How often do you find yourself bereft of a usable weapon often enough to need an emergency armament like this? I can see the niche in front of me, making a new weapon as-needed against creatures whose DR makes them difficult to damage with your normal gear or taking advantage of that delicious little tidbit about doing double-damage to fire-based creatures, but they take your whole standard action to make and last for only a single combat (if that), and you can’t even shuffle around the +1 bonuses for additional effects!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s by no means bad (unless you’re both in a waterless area and haven’t filled your waterskin), especially at 3/day, but I can’t help but wonder when you’d actually need it at level 11+ when you likely already have a primary weapon and several backups. 

Boon 3: River’s Renewal. When completely submerged in water, you gain Fast Healing 2. You can recover a total number of hit points equal to twice your HD in this manner each day. At 20 HD, if you fall below 0 hit points and your body is fully submerged in a river, you automatically stabilize.

As a final Boon, I wish the Fast Healing had a higher threshold than just 28 points a day (+2 per level). In combat it likely won’t matter, and while out of combat it’s a decent amount of healing, usually enough to spare a couple spell slots from your healers or some potions, it’s just not all that impressive for a third and final Boon. Sentinels are the only followers of Hanspur who don’t get some method to easily navigate the seas, so taking advantage of this Boon to its fullest extent relies on an outside method of gaining water breathing or a swim speed.

Funnily enough, you can carry around a Bag of Holding filled with water and use it as a recuperative pod in case you don’t have access to a deep puddle, which is dubiously useful but not entirely terrible. HOWEVER, the little addition at the end is also a kick in the teeth; why does that only happen at level 20? Why can’t that be a base part of the Boon? It’s just insul--Wait, it only works if you’re submerged in a river, too? You can’t stabilize with some good old pond water? The mighty ocean? Can’t take a dip in a bathtub to stop bleeding out? Come on, Hanspur!!! Be a little more generous to your worshipers!

I dunno, maybe I’m underselling the out-of-combat healing this Boon offers, but it just doesn’t feel worth it to put up with the Water Rat for your entire adventuring career just for an extra 1/8th of an HP bar.

You can read more about him here.

[itsallmightbitch]

Stitches (Part One)

Villain!Might is annoyingly sexy. God damn. Part One of two, because once again, it was getting way, way too long. The real smut is in part two but this has it’s fair share of naughtiness. *once again the gif is not mine

Pairing: Villain!Might x Reader

Rating: Explicit (Dry humping and dirty talk)

Warnings: Blood, Bad Language

Word Count: 7633 

Summary: It turns out that being injured on the job makes the biggest villain in Japan undeniably horny. If only he would quit being so handsy, maybe you could finish his goddamn stitches. 

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

You were only just getting used to having All Might stumble in to your apartment at all hours of the day or night.

 Only. Just.

 That didn’t mean you bloody enjoyed it though! Considering the amount of times it happened a week you should probably just give him a key- but there was little chance of him using it when he seemed so content in picking the lock anyway.

 It was sort of like a power play. A ‘look how easily I can break in’ kind of thing.

 In the beginning it had been an intimidation ploy and fuck, had it worked. You’d walked on eggshells for weeks until it slowly dawned on you that he was simply having a little fun on your behalf. Breaking in at all fucking hours to loudly watch TV and drink your goddamn milk like he owned the place.

 Scaring the absolute bejesus out of you when you went for water in the middle of the night and he was sitting in the dark like an absolute creep.

 He did that one a lot. Informed you that your reaction was absolutely priceless and he couldn’t help himself.

 You’d threatened to overdose him on morphine when he was asleep.

 Quid pro quo.

 Now… his intrusions had become more of a semi-welcome occurrence slash inconvenience.

 After much nagging and complaining on your part, when you felt confident that he had no real desire to murder you in your sleep of course, he’d stopped being such a prick when he came around and if you were honest, it was kind of nice.

 It would be less nice if any heroes or the police caught wind of you harbouring Japan’s Number One Villain but that was a thought best left for when the time came. Your less than legal activities for the criminal class hadn’t been sussed out in the six years you’d been here and you doubted that any of them were planning on ratting out one of their few sources of medical attention any time soon.

 Speaking of medical attention…

 All Might was certainly not welcome when he was bleeding like a stuck pig all over your new hardwood floor.

 He was framed in the low light of the hallway behind him, although he nearly blocked it out as he filled out the doorway with his wide shoulders. One large hand gripped the door jamb and the other crossed his chest, clenched over a wound you couldn’t see.

 But you could see the blood pouring from it- seeping out between his fingers and soaking through the tattered remains of the shirt he’d been wearing.

 His breathing was hard, eyes dark and guarded and the rain had flattened his hair to his head, making him look absolutely manic.

 “Oh my God!” were your only words, fear suddenly coursing through you as you lunged from where you’d been sitting- only stopping inches from him and praying that he could make it to the couch by himself. There was no way you could carry that much weight alone and the thought of calling for reinforcements should he pass out was less than appealing.

 The only people you really knew were criminals or your parents. You could see how that conversation would play out and it didn’t end well.

 The hand he’d been using to stem the blood flow fell from his shoulder and red splattered in a line in front of your socked feet. You took a step back as he ducked under the doorway, effectively inviting himself in.

 “What happened!?” you balked, moving out of his path and shutting the door behind him. A cursory glance told you that there was no-one else around, thankfully.

 “Bad business,” he grunted, steadying himself on a dining chair- although the wood creaked worryingly under his thick fingers.

 “Bad business,” you repeated incredulously, your voice tinged with mild exasperation at just how easily he could brush off an entrance like that with such a throwaway remark. He shot you a warning glance that you heeded. It was the most you’d probably get out of him so you didn’t attempt to pry further as he trudged tiredly towards the comfort of your couch.

 For now, at least, you would leave it at that.

 He sat down gingerly, learning from past experiences that throwing his weight around was likely to end with yet another broken bit of furniture and you calling him all the names under the sun. He didn’t look like he quite had the energy for your usual snarky banter.

 “Good to know you’re as enlightening as ever,” you frowned, following behind him and flicking on another lamp as you went. You would need plenty of light for what was about to come next. He sank into the soft couch cushions with a sigh of relief that he probably wouldn’t have made if he wasn’t gushing blood from his shoulder.

 “Shit,” you said, panicked suddenly at the sight of it coating almost every inch of his chest and arm. While you couldn’t see underneath his shoulder armour, you could guess that it was slick and red as well. His usually golden complexion was pale but besides that, there weren’t any other marks on him..

 Sucking in a deep steadying breath, you pushed away the encroaching panic.

 You were a medical professional, for fuck sake. Blood was basically a daily occurrence and the fact that it was suddenly pouring out of him of all people, shouldn’t make a difference.

 Except it did and deep in your stomach, panic still flitted around and made you quiver uneasily.

 “Let me see how bad it is,” you said, a tremor to your voice. But you made no room for an argument as serious mode was firmly engaged. Despite all he was to the rest of the world, you really didn’t want his stupid ass to die.

 He nodded stoically, recognising that you were now in your professional frame of mind and that acting up would only make treating him more awkward. Though his dark gaze still fixed on your face as you gingerly tugged the ruined edges of his shirt aside.

 You pulled in a hiss of air between your teeth initially, but the more you explored the less you wanted to freak out.

 Despite the superficial shock from the sight of so much blood, your stomach settled it’s uncomfortable rolling as you gauged the seriousness of his injury. The gash was fairly deep but not enough to bare the bone of his clavicle- and you guessed that the amount of blood he was covered in was a result of adrenaline and disregard for the injury as he fought.

 “How bad does it hurt? Do you need something for the pain?” you asked, not look at him and you tried to move his shoulder pad away gently. The thing weighed a tonne though and you had little success.

 He scoffed, pushing you away with a stern look followed by a cocky sneer.

 “Don’t be an idiot. I enjoy the pain,” he rumbled, staring you down as if daring you to disagree.

 You did more than dare. He wasn’t big bad All Might when he was in your fucking domain and sometimes he needed reminding of that.

 “Oh really?” you levelled a look at him. “So, doing this doesn’t hurt at all?”

 Without warning, you poked his shoulder just to the left of his injury and he yowled, infuriated and pained at the same time. His whole body stiffened in agony and his yelping quickly morphed into a half growl, low and dangerous- like you’d awakened the dormant dragon from his slumber.

 His eyes flashed and he bared his teeth in a snarl at you, a wounded animal trying to hide behind his bluster and bravado.

 “You fucking bitch,” he snapped, hand covering the gash once more as though you were about to go in for a second attack.

 Instead of cowering in fear like you had the first time he’d ever darkened your doorway, you simply rolled your eyes at his brutish behaviour. This arrogant showboating of his wasn’t new to you. Nor was he even remotely intimidating when he was clearly in pain.

 Hell, he hadn’t even attempted to get up from the welcoming comfort of the couch and so you weren’t particularly concerned for your physical safety.

 All Might- around you at least- was all bark and no bite. You clicked your tongue at him, as though admonishing him.

 “Language you big jerk. Show your doctor a little respect.”

 The look he shot you would have cowed a lesser man and had sent heroes in the opposite direction pissing themselves in fear.

 You patted his cheek fondly instead.

 “Don’t be a big baby,” you murmured, smirking as you wandered towards your kitchen in search of your supplies. “I’ll get you some bourbon. I still have that top-shelf shit you left here a few months ago.”

 His bellyaching abruptly settled into an irritated grumbling when he realised that you hadn’t meant your run of the mill Advil and instead meant ‘booze’. He still said something under his breath as you went though, sullen and annoyed at his current predicament and determined to get the last word in as always.

 You kind of sympathised? Maybe?

 It wasn’t often that he came to you with a serious injury. Usually it was for shrapnel damage or the odd burn when he was less than careful around Endeavor- which again, wasn’t often. You’d never had to really worry about him before, even if he seemed determined to make you.

 But it was fun to tease him now that the fear had abated and your mind was a little less on red alert.

 You left him sitting there, your cat staring up at him with big curious eyes, while you headed towards the kitchen.

 “You’ll give me sympathy, won’t you Marco?” he said, loudly enough for you to hear as you rounded the corner. You rolled your eyes.

 After pulling the bottle from your cupboard and setting it aside, you rounded on an indiscriminate blank wall- the one that separated your kitchen and hallway. Eyeing it for a moment, you lightly rested the pads of your fingers in the centre. It felt warm from the thrumming mechanism underneath and a soft beep, followed by a click, informed you that it was now unlocked.

 The panel compressed inwards by a quarter inch and you used your fingertips to slide it to one side, your face now illuminated by a soft blue light. God bless your satisfied customers, you smirked as you surveyed the medical equipment now on display.

 You had everything from sterilised needles to IV bags, scalpels to a portable defibrillator.

 It wasn’t as though you didn’t have all of this shit legally. But having a place to hide it made things easier when you wanted to pretend you were a normal, run of the mill citizen to your (very few) friends and family. They assumed, quite wrongly, that your medical career had been left behind in the army.

 You gathered what you would need, including a damn strong needle that glinted in the low light when you settled on it. You’d need something tough to get through his skin and only then did you begin to wonder again about just what had managed to cut him so deeply.

 It boggled your mind, the force that some of these people could fight with.

 He was staring at you impatiently when you returned.

 “You seem calmer,” he observed, sounding almost disappointed. “It’s almost as though you don’t care what happens to your favourite patient.”

 You tutted.

 “It’s almost as though you just enjoy making me panic.”

 “I like to watch you panic, sweetheart. Brings out your eyes,” he chuckled darkly, catching his tongue between his teeth while his own eyes trailed over you. You ignored the sudden surge of heat to your cheeks because as usual, he was managing to make you blush.

 Nothing new there.

 While you’d been fucking about in the kitchen, he’d had the foresight to remove both his armoured shoulder pads and the remains of his shirt- despite his injury making it painful to do so.

 You had an unobscured view of his chest now, blood painting it red and you were suddenly glad you’d invested in a throw for your couch because it was damn near everywhere had he clearly had no qualms about leaving bloody hand prints on it.

 “You better not have pet Marco with blood all over your hands,” you warned him as you laid out your supplies on the side table neatly, glancing around until you found your cat lounging on his cat tree- no longer interested in your intruder. Since All Might didn’t have food to sneak him today, Marco wasn’t bothering him any more.

 Fickle thing, you thought.

 “The cat is fine. I’m the fucking injured party here,” All Might scoffed, apparently irritated that you were no longer fussing around him like you had been. Despite how he always complained and brushed off your worry, you knew he liked having someone fawn over him. Sometimes you played it up just to watch him melt for you.

 Not tonight though.

 “Oh hush,” you said, leaning in again to examine the wound.

 It was angry and still oozing blood like it was the world’s worst slip’n’slide but from what you could see there was nothing in there you would have to dig out. It only really needed to be cleaned and then it would need at least twenty or so stitches but hey, at least he wasn’t dead.

 The warmth of him under your palm confirmed your ‘not dead’ diagnosis. How the Hell did one man produce so much heat?

 You hummed and debated with yourself for a moment because… well. Leaning over him like you were for twenty stitches would be rough on your back and from experience, you knew asking him to move from his current comfortable position would be met with a firm ‘fuck off’.

 This was going to be torture for both of you- for different reasons. You’d never hear the end of it.

 With no other way to reach him without being awkward about it, you straddled his thick thighs- grumbling all the way. His eyebrows rose as you climbed into his lap, settling your ass onto his knees before reaching for your things beside you.

 You refused to look him in the eye though and absolutely would not think about how far apart your legs had to go to accommodate him.

 All Might, despite the pain he was in, clearly hadn’t lost any major brain function. His hands came up and settled on your hips like they belonged there- blood staining your tee-shirt. They were heavy and warm, the sheer size of them covering both hips as his fingers splayed out across your back. He exhaled but said nothing about your sudden position, simply relaxing back to let you do your thing.

 His usually slicked back hair was mussed and falling over his eyes but you could still see the shock of bright blue following your every movement with a sharp, ardent scrutiny.

 Well.

 That was intense.

 “What!?” you snapped, annoyed at his incessant staring- and the effect it was having on you. His smirk broadened into a full blown, easy smile.

 “Not quite how I imagined you sitting in my lap for the first time,” he rumbled, as though it was a perfectly normal thing to say. Like he was talking about the weather. Your body jolted, head swimming. You prayed he couldn’t read your face but you knew it was a futile hope.

 Your expression and blush simply encouraged him more.

 His thumbs swept a wide path over your waist while you desperately tried not to think about how big his fingers were. You swallowed hard, attempting to steady the shake in your hands as you wiped away blood.

 “I’d always thought… well, hoped actually, that you’d sit on my face first, kitten,” he continued lightly.

 Honestly, the fact that you didn’t pop a blood vessel right then and there was admirable.

 “If you don’t quit that, I’m going to poke you with this big ass needle and it will hurt,” you managed to choke out, pressing a little harder than necessary as you cleaned his chest. He flinched, body tightening before sagging with relief when you removed your hand.

 He heaved an irritable sigh but you weren’t exactly finished berating him.

 “Symbol of Chaos my very fine ass,” you continued mockingly, embarrassment spilling out in the form of harsh words. He glared at you with icy, unreadable eyes. “You bleed all over my apartment, scare the shit out of me and then think it’s perfectly acceptable to make a joke about me riding you. You’re being such a dickhead.”

 You said it like you meant it.

 You already lived on edge half the time without having to worry about him as well. His lack of concern for his own well being was frustrating and you’d often find yourself scouring the news channels after a particularly vicious fight just to make sure he wasn’t dead or captured- seeing as he didn’t afford you the courtesy of a phone call.

 Not that you’d ever expect him to.

 “Are you finished, sweetheart?” he interrupted your train of thought, his fingers squeezing your hips almost painfully now. The mildly annoyed All Might was swiftly being replaced by the one who you would get into blazing arguments with. At least you knew how to handle this one…

 “I think you’re getting too fucking comfortable with me, little bird. You think I’ve gone soft? Huh?” he lifted your chin with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him while the other hand held you in place. “You and I both know I could snap that pretty little neck of yours with one hand if I wanted to,” he growled, his face suddenly inches from yours and you had the gall to mindlessly think that there was nothing soft about him.

 You were a horny idiot with no self-preservation apparently.

 He released your chin and rested the side of his hand on your shoulder, open palm angled towards your throat but not touching it.

 A warning.

 You’d definitely hit a nerve.

 All the same though, some dumbass part of you refused to be intimidated in your own fucking home. You scowled up at him, pretending to be unimpressed rather than frightened. Blood thrummed in your ears, keeping pace with your rapid heartbeat.

 Looking him in the eye was like was like staring down a fucking lion.

 “Maybe I should. It would teach you a lesson.”

 But you’d been doing this little song and dance with each other for months now and you’d perfected your ‘you don’t frighten me’ face long ago. It infuriated him, sure, but you had a sneaking suspicion that it also intrigued him.

 He knew full well that he wasn’t the Symbol of Chaos when he was in your apartment. He was just… Toshinori.

 Although he despised it when you called him that. Shouted and raged and screamed at you every time but let you continue doing it anyway. You didn’t know why he hated his own name so much nor why he relented so easily when you insisted on calling him by it but, it was always your trump card.

 “Toshinori,” you said sharply and he nearly flinched. “Stop being such a drama queen.”

 His anger withered right then and there into something else, and the beast reluctantly backed down as he seemed to come to his senses.

 But once a villain…

 “You going to stop being a bitch if I do?” he asked, cocking his head to one side. His brow was still furrowed, making his face look harsh but you could see his scowl lessen.

 “No,” you muttered petulantly, mustering up all of your courage to do so. He hadn’t killed you yet, after all. He’d never even laid a hand on you- violently anyway. Light touches and slapping your ass didn’t count. You pushed his large hand from your shoulder and he let you, dropping it back to the couch below. “But I suppose I’ll save it for when you’re not bleeding out on my couch.”

 “Gee, thanks.”

 And he was back ladies and gentlemen! How to train your villain, in three steps or less.

 You brushed off his sarcasm and leaned to one side, reaching for the needle and surgical thread. His hand came back up to your hip- finished with his tantrum. He supported your weight as you rummaged through the plastic container you’d set aside for him.

 It took you no time to find a rhythm for your work as you both fell into easy silence- pinching the wound shut with one hand while the other deftly stitched him up. You had to shift a few times in his lap, holding a small flashlight between your teeth when the lamps on either side of the couch weren’t bright enough.

 It was thankfully, a clean cut with no ragged edges to it and once again, you could only wonder how sharp the thing that made it was.

 There was no indicator that he was in pain other than the occasional squeeze of his fingers but you didn’t bring it up or offer him any other pain medication. He seemed content with the occasional swig of bourbon.

 Halfway there, you paused for a breather.

 “You good?” you asked softly, noting that you were ten stitches down with eleven more to go. When you looked up, you saw his jaw tick at your concern but he answered you all the same.

 “M’fine. Just get it over with,” he grunted, his breath fanning over the top of your head.

 He sounded more impatient than pained now but honestly, that was just the norm for him. At least he seemed less woozy as blood started flowing around his body instead of out of it. He’d have another gnarly scar to add to his collection at the end of this but you were doing your best to minimise the damage.

 “Almost done,” you said, patting his chest reassuringly. He said nothing but you felt a little of the tension in his thighs abate.

 “Good,” he grumbled eventually, as petulant as ever. Your lips quirked in a half smile. He noticed the mood change. “So…” he said, clearing his throat when it became clear you weren’t going to say anything else. “What does the good doctor recommend this time? Plenty of rest and chicken soup?”

 “You know, it’s like you read my mind,” you said, focusing hard on the last few stitches. You’d given him some of your best work despite the fact that your hands were shaking with adrenaline. Not to blow your own trumpet too much but you could see why he came back time and time again.

 There wasn’t a back alley, hack job doctor in the city who could do work like you could- mostly thanks to your Quirk.

 “But, you know, I can’t cook worth a damn so you’ll have to make do with leftover takeout, your highness,” you added, tongue caught between your teeth to hide your smile. He didn’t bother hiding his, grinning at you like the damn Cheshire Cat. “The bed rest is non-negotiable though. I don’t need you running rampant in Kamino and undoing all of my hard work.”

 You had already decided that he would sleep here for a few days before you even considered letting him leave again and he could throw all the fucking tantrums he liked because you wouldn’t be budging an inch on it. You knew he would tear the damn stitches the second you let him out of your sight.

 He didn’t whine though. Just said-

 “Well, there’s always one way to keep me occupied,” he leered, eyes trailing over you and down to where you were seated over his crotch. You rolled your eyes. Even when he was clearly in agony, he was trying to get into your pants. “What do you think, sweetheart? Wanna sit on my cock?”

 Um YES!?

 “Um, no, you big fucking pervert,” you tutted, rolling your eyes inspite of what your body screamed at you. He chuckled, amused at how fast you’d said no.

 “Shame. You’d like it,” he purred, his voice no longer tinged with pain.“I know I’d fucking love it.”

 His tone was light, teasing and it did unspeakable things to you. You had to hand it to him. He’d always been surprisingly playful when it came to you- that first meeting notwithstanding.

 If there was one word the media would ever use to describe the man who terrorised their cities day in and day out, playful would not be it. When he’d first stooped through your doorway and demanded your services, you hadn’t thought for a single second you’d ever make it out of there alive- let alone have him tease and flirt with you six months down the line.

 He’d inserted himself into your life with the sort of ease that came naturally to a wicked, no good villain like himself. Then twisted your worldview until you suddenly couldn’t see what life would be like without him annoying you.

 Sure, he made jokes and provocative comments and generally acted like a pervert when he wasn’t in need of medical assistance- but he also never pushed you and you felt a deep appreciation for the weird moral code that he stuck to.

 He was a liar. A cheat. A murderer. An absolute fucking psychopath when he wanted to be. He took a tremendous amount of pleasure in causing pain- almost as much as you took in binge watching Netflix on a Saturday night.

 But he’d reeled in indignation when it was suggested that he was interested in sexual deviancy.

 He insisted that he liked his partners willing and able to participate and then had looked you up and down like he was actually going to eat you on the spot. You’d quickly changed the subject and then when he’d said his brief goodbye you’d changed your panties too because that look had soaked you through.

 And he fucking knew it did.

 You’d spent years patching up the worst people that this city had to offer. Which, in comparison to other places, was a disturbingly high number per capita. Like, off the bloody charts high. At the end of the day though, you could detach yourself from them. If the army had taught you one thing in your seven year deployment, it was how to stay detached.

 Becoming emotionally involved with a man- especially one as universally hated and feared as he was- hadn’t been covered in the handbook.

 It had hit you out of left field like a Detroit Smash to the fucking temple.

 You had Vagabond- Ivy to her friends, to thank for the entire situation.

 She had been the first villain you’d ever patched up. You’d found her, barely breathing and severely wounded, in the alley way behind your apartment complex. It had been a spur of the moment rescue and after you’d nursed her back to health, she’d been surprisingly sweet to you.

 After a few successful meetings in which she didn’t murder or rob you and you didn’t shop her to the cops- she’d begun to recommend her ‘friends’, for lack of a better descriptor, to you when they needed something done.

 Seeing the money they were offering had put to rest any guilt you might have felt about helping criminals.

 All Might… had come to you on his own.

 Ivy had never mentioned any affiliation with him and you’d never exactly advertised your services, so when your door had swung open and he’d marched in, you had all but pissed your pants in fear. So had the unfortunate Yakuza member that you had been prescribing muscle relaxers to at the time.

 He’d certainly needed them as All Might had literally thrown him out into your hallway, face first and then demanded that you patch up the burn on his hand instead.

 Ivy had listened to your tale the next day, wide eyed and mouth gaping as you’d described the most feared man in the world sitting patiently on your couch as you’d whipped up a special salve to combat the sting of Endeavor’s handiwork.

 Despite his rude entrance, he’d been gruff yet polite as you talked him through caring for the burn when he was done. Then he’d thanked you for your time and left. Just like that. You’d never thought you would see him again.

 Then he’d started to come around more often. Sometimes he wasn’t even injured and while he passed it off as needing a place to lay low for a day or two, you suspected that even a man as intimidating and powerful as him- needed a friendly face sometimes.

 Or someone to ogle. Either or.

 Now that you were done with his stitches, you wiped the wound clean with an antiseptic wipe but left the gauze on the coffee table. He needed a shower and clean clothes before you would even consider dressing it.

 “Not that I’m telling you how to do your job, darling,” he queried, shifting underneath you but keeping you steady with his firm grip. “But don’t I at least get a band-aid?”

 You quirked an eyebrow at him, leaning back and away from the heat of his body because it was tampering with your ability to think straight.

 You ‘tsked’ disapprovingly at his question, grabbing his chin and moving his face to one side to get a better look at him. He was deathly pale and looked exhausted. Yet he still had the energy to suggest that you have sex with him. Usually you wouldn’t have been so openly pissed at the blatant disregard he had for his own well being but he’d terrified you tonight and had brought all your silly feelings for him rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

 “No,” you deadpanned. “You need to take a shower first and get into something clean.”

 “I knew you were trying to get me naked. All you had to do was ask you know,” he teased softly, hands sliding up from your hips to your waist.

 You grabbed his wrists to push them away but it was like pushing at steel and you narrowed your eyes at him. He made a low, vibrating noise in his chest- half laugh half admonishment for being disobedient.

 “You can’t keep teasing me like this kitten,” he informed you, even though you had no idea you’d even been teasing him in the first place. “You make me so fucking hard, d’ya know that?” He tugged you closer without warning until you were plastered against him, almost face to face.

 Your heart thundered in your chest and every nerve ending sparked to life under his hands.

 His voice was laced with thick arousal. Apparently life threatening injuries made him horny.

 Go figure.

 “Is that right?” you said, staring up at him while your gut twisted into a million different shapes. He leered at you and then to emphasise his point, he rolled his hips upwards and pressed his erection between your legs.

 Your breath hitched despite you trying not to make a sound. He grinned, wolfish and hungry- wanting to chase that sound out of you again.

 “Yeah, s’right,” he muttered lowly, eyes flickering to your lips and then lower. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he ducked his face to your neck, laying a hot kiss over your pulse point. His mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was thick, trailing in a line along your jaw and back again- until he tugged your earlobe between his teeth and you bucked mindlessly, without even meaning to.

 You felt him grin, then the sharp pinch of his canines as he nipped at your neck.

 “Come on sweetheart,” his voice was laced with arousal. “Tell me what you want me to do to you. Or do I have to guess?”

 Oh where did you even start?

 “I- I want-,” you breathed hard, letting him grind you down against his cock. Your thighs shook, the pajama pants you’d worn for your quiet night in, doing nothing to get in the way of the thick shaft that pressed between the lips of your pussy. God, he was big. You’d guessed he would be but this was just ridiculous…

 His hand slid along your back and covered your ass and pull you down harder- rubbing you over his cock in a steady rhythm.

 Your gasp of pleasure made him grin wickedly and hum a pleased sound in his throat.

 “That’s it, kitten,” he said encouragingly, like he was proud of you for being so pliable for him. So easily led into this sinful encounter. It’s not like you’d tried to push him away, was it? No. Because deep down, underneath all of your shaky morals you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you.

 “You’ve always wanted me to fuck you, haven’t you? Always wanted to spread your legs for me? Don’t worry, I’ll make it so good for you,” he murmured, a promise you never thought you’d hear him make.

 Gentle and All Might didn’t exactly go together and the thought of him making love to you, whispering sweet nothings in you ear was almost laughable.

 …Almost.

 It was also incredibly arousing.

 “I didn’t think you were the gentle type,” you managed to say, excited by the prospect of having him inside you now. All other issues were pushed out of your mind at the mere thought of him fulfilling all of these promises he was making.

 Abruptly, as if to make his point, he slowed the pace that he’d been rocking your hips at- taking on a more leisurely roll that saw him bucking upwards to meet you halfway.

 “You don’t think I can be gentle with you?” he asked, hand coming up to cup your cheek and he must have been amused by your rabbit in headlights expression because he laughed. Was this really the same man who you would have blazing, heated arguments with? Who tore down whole city blocks just because he could?

  “You really think I’m just a one trick pony? Oh baby, just wait until I get you into a bed. I’ll take my time with you. Fuck you long, and slow and hard until you can’t see straight. Until the fucking sun comes up.”

 His words were punctuated by your pathetic whines of pleasure as he ground against you and at the thought of him, not just pounding you into the bed, but actually taking his time? Of seeing a side of him you’d never seen before, loving you slow in all the right places?

 Well, you just about melted against him. Boneless would fail to describe how you felt.

 How had you gone from stitching him up to dry humping him on your couch? You had no idea but you also knew that it was a long time coming. Him getting all sweet on you was just… speeding up the process. He was still keeping the pace languid and you had no problem with that, the intense build up of winding tension in your stomach twisting ever tighter.

 You had soaked through your panties by now and the damp fabric was pressing against your clit with every upward stroke of his cock.

 You wanted to kiss him but even now, as close as you both were, his height still put him at an awkward angle.

 Vaguely, you remembered that you had goddamn hands.

 You reached up and circled them around the back of his muscular neck and tugged softly to indicate what you wanted. He leered at you tauntingly for just a moment before remembering his promise and letting you pull him in.

 He was, as you’d rightly guessed, an excellent kisser.

 His lips were cool from the rain he’d walked through to get here, but his tongue was hot and as always, he gave you very little preamble before the main event. His tongue was at your lips almost instantly, testing your boundaries of which you apparently had fucking zero tonight.

 All it took was a sharp nip to your bottom lip and you were letting him in, letting him take what he wanted from your mouth while you revelled in every second of it.

 His groan was music to your ears, deep and almost needy as a palm pressed between your shoulder blades. You didn’t think you could physically get closer to him but you were wrong as he devoured you, your breasts pressing hard into his chest. You kept up with him as best you could but eventually you needed air and to your surprise, he let you pull away when you wanted to.

 His eyes were dark and full of lust when you stared back at him, swallowing.

 It was then that you finally caught sight of your own hands on him, blood coating them.

 His blood.

 Your body went cold. Shit! How had you gotten so distracted!?

 Fuck. You longed desperately to throw all your inhibitions right out of the window because he was very, very good at this but that niggling voice that had been worried about him from the moment he arrived was suddenly getting too loud to ignore.

 As much as you wanted to enjoy the attention and his lips on your throat, he was currently in no state to even think about anything remotely physical. Although… you could do most of the work… No! No, he needed to shower and eat and get some of that strength back.

 You knew it and he knew it, despite his attempts to make you believe otherwise.

 He made an irritated sound at you when you pulled away.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, amused by your sudden fussing of him as you checked over the fresh stitches. So much for keeping everything sanitary, you cringed. You’d been about ready to ride him into the couch not twenty seconds ago.

 “Sorry, big guy but the buffet is closed. As much as it hurts me to say.” And oh, was it excruciating. “Now, get your ass to the shower,” you commanded, levelling a hard glare in his direction and ignoring the whine that your brain gave at the loss of contact.

 Usually he would match your glare, not intimidated by some uppity little army doc who whored out her services to Kamino’s underbelly.

 His words, the first time you met each other, not yours.

 He was clearly more tired than he let on as he reluctantly relented, letting you climb off of his lap with no more arguments. You brushed yourself down, cheeks red all while attempting not to stare at the straining outline of his cock through his blood covered pants. You focused on his injury instead of the ache between your legs.

 When you were satisfied the stitches would hold through some light movement, you held out a hand for him to take. He shot you an incredulous look but took it all the same, standing in one swift movement that told you it had been out of courtesy and not necessity. You hadn’t even had to pull.

 “We aren’t finished here, I hope you know that,” he warned you and your body sang in response. Your face stayed serious though and you pulled your lip between your teeth. His eyes followed the motion and he dipped down for another kiss-

 You really, really wanted to let him but instead, you shoved him as hard as you could towards the hallway and in the direction of the bathroom.

 He growled, unimpressed at being denied so abruptly.

 It was only seconds ago you’d been whining and hot under his hands and now you were shuffling awkwardly and forcing him in towards the shower. Talk about a cock tease.

 “Leave your clothes out,” you said, before he could go. “I’ll wash them. You can’t go around in those bloody things like an animal.”

 “You sure you don’t want to wash my back in there, kitten?” he was suddenly towering over you, crowding you with the bulk of his body and you felt heat creep up along your neck. You resisted the urge to say yes and follow him- although it was a battle hard won.

 “Towels are in the cupboard and there should be pajama pants and a tee-shirt in your size in the bottom drawer,” you smiled sweetly, patting his stomach and ducking out from under his shadow. You cleared the room in an instant, leaving him in the entrance to the hallway and dancing out of reach of his very bad influence.

 He gave you a long, very searching look.

 “You had company over or something?” he asked bluntly, never one to beat around the bush.

 “Not that’s it any of your business but no,” you replied, tonguing the inside of your cheek as you contemplated your answer. “I um… I bought you some stuff in case you decided to use me as a hotel again. It’s not a big deal.”

 So what if you’d picked out a couple of shirts and some pajama pants in his size and colour? It wasn’t like you wanted him to move in or anything. You were being prepared. Which is the hill you’d chosen to die on and you weren’t budging from it.

 He shot you a filthy grin, pleased with your answer and the redness in your face.

 “Oh stop looking so happy with yourself and get out,” you huffed, flinging a cushion at him. He roared a laugh that shook your walls as he retreated down the hallway- appeased by your current level of affection for him.

 A soft, ‘mrrp’, to your left caught your attention and your cat stared back at you.

 “Don’t even start your lecture,” you answered, grumpily. “You like him too.”

 Marco rubbed himself against the cat post, scratching his own chin on the rough material. He gave another quick meow of agreement before hopping down and wandering away and leaving you wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

TBC...

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(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

[i-see-you-now-you-see-me]

Loving us Both or, Another level of Crazy 

(oneshot, but depends of the future) Part of the DYVLONY series, can be read seperately

Pairing : villain Hendery (Wayv) x Reader

Word count: approx 4k

About: I tell you now, important part of this story is- Hendery has two personalities, but it comes up in the story, not to confuse you, here they are:

Hendery (Huang Guanhang)- boss

Guanhee- Huang Guanhee- who deals with all filthy stuff, boss/ to everyone they are brother and sister

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore, a bit of descriptive character death, sex, filthy smut, Guanhee is a dirty bitch, sex, sex, and some more...

filth under the cut

*Earth, the third Planet from the Sun, 149.6 million kilometers away*

-I keep telling you that someone took her, I am sure of it! – Nurse Nana, your friend whom you hade become great friends, answered.

-Miss, there is no proof of that, you cannot just announce things like this on the internet, it is classed as a felony, - the police officer was not having it, it was the third family member this week, who were saying the exact same thing, “we were on a night out, and she never came back” sort of thing. And the best was, all of the missing persons went to the same club.

Yet police didn’t want to spend their money on this. There were far more important things for them to be dealing with at this hour.

-Alright miss, we will make a file and let you know as soon as something will come up, - he announced.

-Thank you, - nurse Nana thanked the police and left.

While studying at UNI you had a big exam coming up, to help you in the process you had applied to help at the local hospital, trainee psychologist assistant, and a Doctor Vera McGregorky welcomed you into all her conversations with her patients, who didn’t mind you, a student to be there and listen. You had signed the documents for confidential information, and not a single word had escaped your mouth in talks of other patients.

You had met Nana when you arrived, she was the one to greet you and lead you to the doctors’ office, she was nice, and you became friends.

Once your exam had passed, she had invited you for a glass of beer on a night out, (you rarely drank beer, but sometimes you enjoyed it), so you agreed. Somehow during the night, you were left alone, because Nana smoked, and she used to say, “I don’t want your lungs to get polluted because of me, you know that statistics have proven, that a non - smoker standing next to a smoker is at higher risk of lung pollution than the actual smoker,” and she would add with a grin, “that’s the trufff”.

And now, she was there. Walking down the street where the club was.

-Where are you, Y/N, what happened to you, - when she returned from smoking, you were nowhere to be found, she searched everywhere in the club where she could. Not a single glimpse from you was there.

Ever since that day, she has been trying to file a missing persons case, even posted on the internet about it, receiving a few reposts and likes, until she was called to police office. If they would have been a bit more interested in that, eh?

Nana sighed.

-Assholes, - she whispered as she walked of.

* Planet DYVLONY, 10043567901;1102033149001*

-I hate that bitch, - one of the henchmen spoke.

-I know, last time when she slapped you, I remember the look on your face, - he sighed, - why can’t it be her brother this time.

-I know, right? Sometimes she really gets on my nerves.

They both walked through a warehouse that belonged to the Infamous Twins of DYVLONY, and today was one of those days where, instead of himself – Hendery, their boss, more liked preferred boss, they had to work together with his twin sister Huang Guanhee, who, if/when in a bad mood, tended to treat people like shit.

-Didn’t I tell you, that I don’t want to see your ugly ass looking faces today? Huh? Was I not clear? – Huang Guanhee sat on a chair, while behind her, tied to a post was a naked woman, barely breathing, beaten to a pulp.

-Sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but Mr. Tieger wants to see you, or your brother, he is outside, - Guanhee sighed, she hated that bastard, he owed them a lot of money, and he was trying to barter all sorts of shit on a regular basis.

-Ah, - she groaned, - bring him in, - Guanhee agreed.

Both henchmen walked out, grabbed Mr. Tieger by his collar, and really brought him in on his knees, where he stayed. Looking up, seeing Guanhee sitting on the chair, he bit his cheek. She was not the person he wanted to see there.

-Why are you here? I am busy, - she said and crossed her legs.

-I, - his mouth felt dry there for a moment, there was something not right about this woman, - I have been selected to take care of… the aliens that had crashed.

Guanhee arched a brow.

-So? – she asked.

-I have no need of an alien in my home, and I thought… - she didn’t let him finish a sentence.

-You thought? – she abruptly stood up, - exactly what, huh? You come here an offer some alien? What’s in it for me, eh?

She walked closer and smacked Mr. Tieger in the face, so hard, he fell backwards. She groaned and straightened herself up. Guenhee looked at her poor, tied girl in the back, licking her lips, taking a stick from the floor, she walked over to the girl and beat her sides and legs, the girl only jerked around with no sound, tears flowing down her face, she had no voice anymore.

-This is what happens when you don’t pay back the money, and as much as I love a pink pussy to feast on, you don’t have one, so get the fuck out of these premises, and in ten days bring us back money, or else, I will leave you dick- less bleeding in the street, do you understand?

Never have you ever seen a man run as fast as Mr. Tieger did in that moment.

-This bitch is crazy, - he said to himself, as he got in his car and drove off.

Later in the room, on the top floor of the warehouse, Guanhee was undressing. Her stockings were rolled off, her skirt neatly folded on the bed, her white blouse folded on top of that, her hair, a brown (ish) wig, left on the side, before being put away on a mannequin. Fake eyelashes taken off, together with her make up, fake boobs off, and his penis freed from the tight panties.

-It’s your turn now, - she said and looked in the mirror. As soon as those words left her mouth, Hendery appeared, straightened himself up, hearing a knock on the door.

-Boss, it’s me, can I come in? – Hendery walked over and opened the door. His right- hand man was there. Dante was the only person on DYVLONY who knew the ugly truth.

Hendery and Guanhee were the same person.

*

You sat in the waiting room, a bit nervous, of course. Passing an exam had felt easier than this. Palms sweaty, one of your legs kept shaking.

-Nothing to worry about, - you assured yourself, - it’s going to be just fine.

Mr. Tieger was signing papers, ready to greet you, and then sell you off. He knew today he would see Hendery, not his sister, he was sure of it, he will definitely be ready to bargain. Once Hendery see’s how you look like, Mr. Tieger might be in for a good money.

-Hello, miss Y/N, I am Mr. William Tieger, - he shook your hand, - shall we go now?

You nodded. He looked like a “decent” man. Mr. Tieger made sure you walked first, he checked out how you looked like from behind, all the curves in the right places, he will def be swimming in gold after tonight.

-Let’s make a d-tour, - he said, helping you in his car, and soon he had stopped in front of what looked like a very posh atelier. Walking in, he was greeted with two DYVLONY ladies.

-Hello ser, how can be of assistance today, - they said in unison.

-I need to dress her, - he leaned in, while you weren’t listening, - the sexier the better.

Both girls nodded. This was the most popular atelier for a lot of reasons, and the girls were ready for their task. Taking your measures, they went to work on your clothing straight away. Soon, you were wearing embroidered bralette, with matching pantie set, and attached stockings, down your legs. And for whatever reason, your last piece of clothing, a really flimsy looking dress was put on, you looked cheap.

-What is this? – you asked, - I am not wearing it! – you protested.

-You, - Mr. Tieger spoke, - my darling, won’t have a choice.

With that your world went black. One of the assistants had knocked you out, wearing a big smile on her face, even while tying you up. Mr. Tieger paid in cash, threw you over his shoulder, and left. Putting you in the booth of his car, for no one to see. He smiled to himself adding the last piece – a mouth cloth.

-Let’s make Hendery happy, - smacking your thigh with his hand, he closed the booth and drove off.

The warehouse looked as dead as ever. Henchmen stood in the front, guarding the twins, as Mr. Tieger pulled up. Stepping out, he gave the man a sheepish grin.

-I am here to speak with Hendery, I have something to offer, - this time, henchmen didn’t say anything, just opened the door to let him in. Mr. Tieger took you out from the back, and again, put you over his shoulder, bringing you in. Slowly walking closer, he noticed that the chair was turned around.

-Huang Guanheng, - he greeted, - good to see you here.

There was no response on the other side.

-I am here to bargain a little something, you might find of value, - he smiled, putting you down on the cold floor. He didn’t notice how “Hendery” crossed his legs, and his arms over his chest. – this is the alien; I think she might be to your liking.

The doors of the warehouse were now locked, no one could get in, and no one could get out. Somehow, you found yourself waking up, no sounds leaving your mouth, but a short breath. Startled by a strong grip on your jaw, your eyes stayed shut.

-What do you think? – Mr. Tieger’s smug face was back at it. The chair turned around and he gasped. – what the fuck?! – he shouted.

Looking back at him was Guanhee, wearing her best smile, she even winked towards him.

-I thought I warned you once, - she said, still sitting down.

-Where is Hendery, Guanhee? – Mr. Tieger asked.

-I don’t have to answer you, but if you must know, I take that as your dying wish. You really are something, - Guanhee said, - but no worries, soon I will gut you like a fish, and make sure everyone is watching.

-What??? – Mr. Tieger was angry, he came towards her in big striking steps. Once close enough, he was ready to grab Guanhee by her hair, and before he could react a knife was plunged in his lower abdomen.

-I did promise you, didn’t I? – she giggled as a crazy person, the knife was now used to cut Mr. Tieger open, knife stopping at his ribs, while blood gushed out of him. His knees hit the floor, and you opened your eyes. Startled to see what was going on, you had to get away. Easier said than done, with your arms tied behind your back, and your legs tied as well, the only movement you could do, is somewhat like a worm, inch by inch moving away, trying not to pay attention to someone dying in the background.

Guanhee watched as Mr. Tieger bled on the floor, her own clothing was dirtied by now, but she didn’t bother. Looking over she saw you trying to crawl away, and she smiled.

-Hey, - she shouted, and you stopped not knowing why you stopped. – I will give you ten second head start, say thank you Guanhee, - she clapped her hands.

Your eyes were bulging out of your scull now, ten seconds? No chance you’ll get anywhere, a sudden thought was in the back of your mind. “I will die now”, tears started streaming down your face as you kept on trying to move away.

-Ten, - Guanhee announced as she stepped closer, starting the count down. – Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

You heard her right by you when she said “one”, her hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your upper body upwards, making you even more uncomfortable. The bloody knife in front of your face, you started pleading for your life, even with your mouth filled with cloth, that was tied behind your head. You must have sounded terrible… because Guanhee let go of your hair. You landed on your face, hitting your forehead in the process.

-Give her a shower, - Guanhee mentioned with her hands, - then tie her up like normal.

-Yes ma’am, - henchman nodded.

Dragging you away for the “shower”, which in reality meant, ice cold water on your body, getting you rid of the clothes you wore. Cold and worn out from the cold shower blast, you didn’t struggle when your naked body was tied up by the wooden post. The only thing you could see was a chair, which was unoccupied for now.

Guanhee washed up, changed her clothes, looking in the mirror, she smiled to herself, putting on her glasses, she walked through the room and down the stairs.

She saw your naked form from the second floor and rubbed her palms together. Sitting on the chair, she watched you closely. You didn’t struggle, your mouth had tape over it, the only thing you did, you were weeping, trying to do it quietly.

Listen. You had seen crazy, while working at the hospital, there had been patients that had to be in the mental asylum, you had read too much about serial killers, how they disliked people crying, or, how it edged them on. So, you tried to calm yourself.

Guanhee stood up and walked closer.

-You do have a pretty face, though, - she started, taking your jaw in her hand, - I must say, Mr. Tieger was right, you could be of use, - she gave you a smile. Her hand let go of your face and then she grabbed your nipple. Pinching it, twisting it with her fingers. You didn’t know what to do, how to react, your body betrayed you well, heat pooling in your lower areas, the same as the hotness travelling to your face.

Then her lips enveloped the other nipple, she went full licking and sucking on your breast, and soon her hand was not only pinching the nipple but massaging the whole breast.

“Fuck no,” you thought to yourself, trying to get your body to cooperate with your mind, but it wouldn’t budge.

Then she swapped it over, her lips on the other of your breast peaks and the other twisting your other nipple. Her hot mouth was providing you with saliva, that you felt sliding down your torso, to your stomach.

-Guess my favorite color, - she spoke looking at you. You didn’t know what to say, and you couldn’t anyways, but still. Without a warning her hand was in between your legs, grabbing on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

What was she doing?

-I will tell you, - she said as she got on her knees, you saw henchman approaching. Your legs got untied, and the henchmen were holding you up. Shame of nakedness like this was seen on your face. You were now legs apart, pussy on display, a single drop of your nectar gathered on your pussy lips. You looked everywhere else, but not down. Guanhee smacked your thigh to get your attention, it went to a shade of red after the second smack. – I love pink, - she announced while biting her lip.

Your heart was in your throat now, beating so fast, you weren’t ready for what Guanhee had in mind. Her tongue prodded pass her lips, and the tip of it touched your mound. She then gave you a test lick between your folds, swallowing your juices, slowly moving her tongue up and down until she reached your tight hole. She smiled. You saw her smile before she took of her glasses and her tongue went back to its job.

Her tongue dived in your tight hole, in and out, a little faster then and a little slower after, tears were threatening to fall down your face again. Not only a woman was going down on you, but it was also giving you a spark of pleasure. She sat back on her knees, bringing a hand to her face, licking a finger, before the same finger entered you, you shut your eyes.

She was exploring your vaginal walls, finding a soft spot, that made your legs quiver a bit, she continued to press on it more, and then her mouth attacked your clitoris. She sucked and licked, and she finger – fucked you, till you orgasmed, screaming through the tape, your legs shaking from pleasure. Intense waves of hot electric feeling went through all of you, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Guanhee stepped back, her face was covered in your cum, she licked her lips, wiping some of your cum on her hand so she could lick it off. She stood up.

-What a good girl, - she said, - coming on my face like that, hmm, I might just keep you.

With that she walked away. Soon your legs were down on the floor again, tied back up. Then the tape was pulled off, and you were given water by one of the henchmen. Chugging it down like it was your last meal, not knowing what’s going to happen after.

And for some reason, you drifted to sleep soon after that.

When you woke up, the sun was peeking through the windows. Once your eyes adjusted, your face turned straight to the chair. There was a figure sitting there. Looking at you was a man. Who looked just like the lady… Guanhee was her name, right? Uhm, what?

-Good morning, - he greeted, you nodded. If you were alive, it really was a good morning. – I am Hendery, you must have heard about me?

You nodded “no”.

-I see, - he laughed a bit, - you really are not from here, are you?

The more you looked at him, the more it seemed like you were tripping. Somewhere in your mind was a doubt. Alright, you have heard of identical twins, and all that, but so much common in looks on twins, it was a rare sight. And the doubt in your mind was saying, that something was not right.

-You look tired, - he said, - rough night?

You rolled your eyes at the comment. Hendery stood up and walked over.

-How about I untie you, give you some clothing and some soup? It can stay our secret, - he said, and you nodded. Soon after you were clothed and fed, and very thankful.

The next couple of days, you were allowed to move around in the warehouse and a bit outside at the back, mainly just sitting down at a wooden table with one of the henchmen to accompany you. You were thinking. The more you thought of a possibility that could be true, the more you started to agree that it really could be true.

Psychology had taught you well. Seeing the signs of un-healthy mind was easy for you to spot, those couple of months helping Doctor Vera, were paying off.

The next day, while outside eating breakfast, you were greeted by Guanhee.

-I thought I might see you here, - she said startling you, -my brother has treated you well, - she bit her cheek.

-At least he’s nice, - it came out harsher than expected. Guanhee grabbed your hair to turn your face to her, and smacked your cheek, left one first and then your other one. Then she pulled you up only to kick your legs, so you fell on your knees. She didn’t let go of your hair.

-Ah, - she said, - is this how we are going to play? Shall I tie you to the post again? – her eyes were filled with anger as she spat the words out, - starve you until you are nothing but a pile of bones for the wild wolves?

-No wonder everyone hates you, - you hit her weak spot with your sentence.

The cold shower was blasting at you again, you fell down, this time Guanhee was doing it herself, and to your surprise, she was stronger than she looked. Dragging you by your hair, this time she tied you, while you were on your knees. You ended up- legs wide opened, ass in the air, while your breasts were pressed at the wooden post.

She disappeared.

You didn’t even hear or see where she went, but you were left all by yourself, your eyes closing for a brief moment.

-My sister left you for me as a gift, - a voice spoke, waking you up from your slumber, it was Hendery. He was next to you, his hands stroking your sides, your stomach, then your ass cheeks, giving both of them a squeeze. – she knows how to make me happy, - he said.

His hand begin massaging your pussy, stroking your folds.

-Don’t do it, - you squeaked out, when Hendery’s hand touched your clitoris.

-And why not, - he smiled as he continued the assault on your cunt, - my sister already had a taste, I really want to try that too, - he pouted. – she always gets all the fun.

-I would rather suck your dick, - you spoke to stop him.

-Maybe another time, - you heard the zipper of his trousers, and then you felt his thick cock prod at your entrance. He moved his mushroom head up and down your folds, gathering the slick to cover his member. His hand softly touched your stomach as he was steadying himself. – breath in, baby-girl, - he whispered, licking on your ear, where he positioned his body.

His thick cock entered you only a couple of centimeters, you exhaled loudly with a moan. Slipping deeper, Hendery made sure to wait, till you got accustomed, inch by inch. Once completely sheathed inside of you, his balls where right at your bottom, he started a steady rhythm. It was followed by grunts and groans, and every thrust he gave you was as delicious as a desert after a meal.

Your walls were clamping down on him so hard, Hendery had to stop, to make you relax a bit more, and then he would get back to it. He knew you were close, the more your walls were sucking him deeper, the readier to orgasm you were. With a couple more thrusts you came, biting your lips, grabbing onto the wood. Hendery still worked to reach his high, and just before he could, you came again, and then he stilled, filling your abused cunt to the brim.

His arms around your body stayed like that for a while, the same as his lips licked your sweat from the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades. Pulling out slowly, he earned a moan from you.

-Should I leave you like this? – he teased. – I think I will…

-Noo, - you protested, - I cannot feel my knees, - you said honestly.

So instead of leaving you like that, he turned you around, tied your back against the post, with his seed between your legs, making it impossible to move, the unpleasant feeling lingering there. He was smiling at you. The same smile Guanhee gave you. And he walked up the stairs and, in that room, where you had seen Guanhee disappear a couple of times, only to be greeted by Hendery the next day, or Guanhee a day after that.

And as you anticipated, you woke up with someone touching you, opening your eyes you saw Guanhee, licking her lips.

-Beautiful morning, isn’t it? – she asked, and you didn’t respond. – my brother had some fun, I see, - she licked her lips, - I can clean you up, if you’d like?

You nodded a “no”, and Guanhee stared at you, before leaving.

-I know who you are, - you shouted behind her, and Guanhee slowly walked back.

-And what is that?

You stayed quiet, till she was right in front of you. She stared down at you, grabbing your jaw in her hand.

-Hendery is you and you are Hendery, Guanhee doesn’t exist…- you said. – you are not real.

She slapped you.

-Are you afraid of the truth? – you asked. – you and I both know; this is not the way to live.

-Who are you? – she asked, grabbing you even harder.

-I can help you, - you said, - I can help you both, if only you’d let me…

The conclusion – split personality. This might be the scariest patient of all, but you were ready to use your knowledge to help as much as you could.

Guanhee stared at you, leaning in, and you felt something pressing onto your leg. Through her tight skirt, a visible boner was pressing through, her lips attacked yours.

-But before that, we can play a little…

[polaroid15]

Febuwhump day 28 - “You have to let me go”

Summary: Peter is no stranger to mourning. He'll do anything to keep his family safe.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29138196/chapters/73219281

Okay. My little love note/ramble will be at the end of this chapter, but I just wanted to say before you read this- thank you. So much. Sincerely. This has been quite the adventure. But like all adventures, they have their end. I hope you like this one.

-----

Peter lands messily on the pavement, pain shooting spikes up his ankles and his heart beating a million miles a minute. Choosing to ignore the discomfort, he runs the rest of the way to where Rhodey, Natasha, and Steve are standing in a tense semi circle in front of an old warehouse.

He skids up beside them, barely breathing. “I- I came- agh. I came as soon as I heard.”

Steve places a strong hand on his shoulder to steady him and Peter can’t help but lean into the touch. They all stop what they’re doing to look at him and their eyes tell Peter enough for his stomach to plummet down to his toes.

Pity, guilt.

Fear.

“Where’s Tony?” he asks, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.

None of them answer, averting their eyes to the ground.

“Guys. Where is he?”

Rhodey looks torn. He looks from the ground to the warehouse, his mouth hanging open in indecision. “He’s in there. He’s okay.”

“For now,” Natasha says.

Peter nods, though his anxiety doesn’t lessen any. “Okay. Why haven’t you gotten him out yet? What’s the plan?”

He looks to Rhodey for his answer but the hero merely bites his lip. Sighing, Natasha interjects for him. “Tony’s cuffed to one of the center support columns. There’s a bomb strapped to the column beside him. The perimeter is rigged so that if crossed, the detonation time will shrink dramatically. It might even cause the bomb to go off immediately.”

Mouth dry, Peter tries his best to keep his breathing even. “How much time do we have?”

“Ten minutes.”

“Oh God,” Peter whispers. Steve’s hand on him tightens as he sways. “So what- what’s the plan?”

“Still working on it,” Rhodey says, his confidence slowly returning. “We’re trying to see if we can disarm the bomb from here. It’s too dangerous to trigger it by trying to cross the perimeter and grab him before it goes off.”

“But-”

“Don’t worry Peter. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He nods shakily, glancing over to the warehouse. So close, he thinks with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“You should call him,” Steve says. “He still has his com connected.”

“Right. Okay.”

Released, Peter steps away from the small group of heroes as they work furiously with tech Peter has never seen before. Despite their words, Peter can see how worried they are in their tight stances and clenched knuckles. It rips a hole through him. “Karen. Call Tony please.”

“Of course. Calling Tony Stark.”

For a moment Peter is afraid he isn’t going to answer. On the last ring, however, it connects. Tony’s strained voice replaces his anxiety with temporary relief. “Peter?”

“Tony,” he gasps, knees weak. “I- I just got here. Are you okay?”

A short silence. “You’re here?”

“Yeah. Everyone close enough got the distress signal. I came as soon as I could but I was in English. Mrs. Fletcher doesn’t usually let kids leave in the middle of class but you know me. I found a way.”

Tony doesn’t laugh like Peter had hoped he would. The weight in his stomach triples. Instead, when he speaks, his mentor’s voice shakes. “You- you really shouldn’t be here, kid.”

“You’re in trouble. Of course I’m here. I’m always here.”

“It’s not looking- Christ. It’s not looking good Pete.”

Everything freezes. His chest stills for one breath, two. The ground seems to drop out underneath his feet. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

No. No, he refuses to believe it. “How much time is left?”

“Just under six minutes.”

“Oh man.” Peter glances over to the Avengers. “Uh, guys?” he calls. “How’s it looking?”

Rhodey’s pinched expression tells him enough.

He can’t breathe.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice filters back in, his tone warmer. “It’s okay bud. Just breathe. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Peter forces air into his lungs, because this isn’t about him. This is about Tony. “We’re going to get you out,” he promises.

He can imagine Tony wincing, and it brings tears into his eyes.

“Kid?” Tony’s voice is soft in a way he’s never heard it before.

“Yeah?”

“I just- I’m really proud of you, alright? I want you to know that.”

“Tony stop-”

“No,” he interupts. “I need this Pete. So zip it while the adult talks.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m so proud of you. Getting- getting to know you has been one of the greatest privileges I’ve had in my damn screwed up life. I wouldn’t trade it in for anything.”

His heart beats ferociously against his ribs, warranting a physical pain. He can hear it in his ears.

“Stop saying goodbye,” Peter pleads.

“You’re a good kid, Pete. And you know I don’t go around saying this kind of stuff lightly so you sure as hell better remember it. You’re ten times the hero I ever was and I know- I know that the world is in safe hands.”

“But what about me?” Peter gasps out, eyes trained on the warehouse as the world spins. He knows it’s selfish. God he knows it’s selfish. “What about me, Tony?”

“Three minutes!” Natasha calls out, her voice cracking.

Silence.

“Tony!”

“Don’t blame yourself for this, okay? Don’t you dare. You don’t deserve this kiddo. I know this is unfair. You- you deserve to be happy.”

“Tony-”

“I love you Peter,” he says.

And then the line goes dead.

Peter’s insides vaporize. “Karen,” he says numbly, “call him back.”

It doesn’t even ring. “I’m sorry Peter. The call has been declined.”

“Damn it!” he screams while turning hurriedly back to the group. They’re pale. Rhodey’s hands are shaking. “We have to get him out right now!”

“Nothing’s working,” Natasha stammers, her fingers flying over her keyboard.

“Something has to work! Make it work! It always works!”

“We’re trying the best we can!”

On the screen, he sees the detonation time at 2:11.

He’s not losing Tony.

He can’t survive another loss.

He can’t.

The world dissolves down to a single thought.

Then he’s sprinting.

Sprinting with all his might towards the warehouse. The other three scream out his name, ordering him to stop but he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t dare. He pushes onward, nearly stumbling against the liquid panic coursing through every vein. By some miracle he stays on both feet.

He launches himself right through the front door, a loud beep signalling the perimeter breach. Rhodey’s voice enters his ears then, forced through. “You triggered the bomb to fall down to a minute. You have 60 seconds to get him out of there.”

It has to be enough.

Tony isn’t hard to find. He’s in the center of the warehouse, chained around his torso. Peter is at his side in lightning speed, wrapping his hands around the restraints and straining with all his might. At first they don’t budge.

No, no. He has to be strong enough.

“Peter-” Tony gasps. He’s livid. Shaking like an addict on withdrawal. “What the hell are you doing here? The bomb-”

“We still have time,” Peter pants, blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Peter!” Everything they’ve been through together, good and bad, bleeds into Tony’s voice. It shakes under the weight. “You have to let me go bud. This whole place is going to explode-”

“No.”

“I’m not letting you die for me. I’m not losing you.”

“And I’m not losing you! I’ll get you out. I’m not giving up.”

The electronic beep of the timer is constant, merciless. Tony jerks against the chains, his eyes wide and blown with panic. 35 seconds. 34. 33. Peter can tell his mentor is trying to connect with him, trying to use these last seconds to make him fold. To sacrifice his own life for Peter’s safety.

But Peter can’t.

He won’t.

“You have to let me go,” Tony whispers.

Peter sobs. It’s dry and panicked and desperate. A prayer. Something deep and foreign clicks inside his chest and in the next second, the chains snap and fall away. Tony slumps forward in surprise, catching himself on his elbows. Peter wastes no time in pulling him up to his feet, too scared to count it as a victory.

“We’re in this together,” Peter hisses, unable to believe that in what could very well be their final moments, he’s angry.

At Tony, at himself. At the world.

“Fifteen seconds,” Rhodey says in his ears.

The world narrows to an impossible size. He’s aware of every beat of his heart. Of every breath. Him and Tony race for the exit, the daylight beyond its doors acting as a promise. For a moment Peter thinks they’re going to make it, that everything will be fine.

Then they cross the perimeter line.

His spider sense flares right before the bomb detonates. He barely has time to realize that obviously the failsafe would work both ways, but it’s too late to correct the mistake.

There’s a deafening explosion. The ground shakes violently and Peter is reminded horribly of the warehouse. Searing heat reaches his back and he uses his lost conscious thought to tackle Tony to the ground.

He isn’t awake long enough to see if he was able to save him.

----

He wakes up in the ambulance. Everything blurs as if it’s underwater.

There’s hands on his arms, on his face, holding him down. The pain is all-consuming, tearing him apart limb by limb.

Something pressed over his mouth makes it difficult to speak. He coughs in his fight for air and it feels like his body rips in half.

“He’s waking up!” someone yells frantically.

“T-T-”

The voice must have belonged to Steve because his face appears above him in a messy streak. Through the delirium Peter can still identify the sharp glare of worry in his eyes. “Don’t try and talk, Peter. You’re going to be okay.”

“T-Tony-”

He doesn’t know if he’s alive. He needs to know-

Something sharp pricks his arm before the thought can finish. It’s welcoming at first, but he can’t help being afraid.

Everything fades like it never quite existed in the first place.

And if Tony is dead, if it’s his fault, he wants it to stay that way.

----

The next time Peter wakes up he’s in medbay.

It’s familiar. Too familiar, he would argue. The cotton sheets, the sharp smell of antiseptic. The pressure of needles poking into him and oxygen in his nose.

He’s laying on his stomach, so there must be something wrong with his back. Whatever it is he doesn’t feel the pain yet, which is nice.

Every thought is murky and distant. With eyes still closed he searches desperately for them. Steve was there, he thinks. Rhodey and Natasha too. He had been scared. Had run for something. Or from something?

A bomb.

Tony.

The fear returns in a fatal swoop. Somewhere in the distance he hears his heart rate monitor spike. He squeezes his eyes closed further, not wanting to wake, not wanting to face a reality without Tony in it.

Tears pool in his eyes.

He’s no stranger to mourning.

“Peter?”

The voice is muted in his panic, almost unreachable, though he knows in all reality it must be close. It stops his hyperventilating short, his chest burning as he refuses to draw in air.

Then he hears it. Another heartbeat.

“Peter. Open your eyes bud.”

Bud.

For once in his life Peter listens, his landscape blurring with tears. Sure enough, Tony is there, laying beside him on his own bed, so close that they could reach out and touch if they wanted. His mentor looks terrible, the skin on his arms and neck bandaged to cover what could only be burns. But he’s awake and sitting up.

Alive.

“Is this real?” Peter whispers. He doesn’t move an inch. If it’s a trick, or some drug-induced vision, he wants it to be permanent.

The world pauses on its axis.

Tony wipes a tear off Peter’s cheek.

“This is real.”

And Peter knows it’s true.

“Tony,” he gasps, unable to manage anything else through the thick knot in his throat. His heart monitor goes crazy again. More tears escape him and he shoves his face into the mattress to stifle a sob.

A heavy weight falls off his back. The relief is dizzying.

“Don’t cry kiddo. You’ll make me cry.”

“I’m- I’m sorry. I’m not trying too-”

Tony shakes his head with a soft expression on his face. “You’re pumped full of painkillers. I don’t blame you.”

“You’re alive.”

It almost sounds like a question.

Tony’s face melts into something dark for a moment before turning into a small smile. It looks like regret, Peter thinks. Or guilt. “Yeah kiddo. I’m alive. So are you.”

“What happened?”

Tony straightens his posture and tilts up his chin as if to dramatize the story. “Well, firstly you decided to disobey three high level Avengers to run into a building that was about to explode.”

“Sounds like me,” Peter agrees weakly.

“You got me out but as soon as we crossed the warehouse boundary it triggered the bomb to detonate. We got caught in the blast.”

Peter swallows thickly. “Are you okay? I thought. I thought-” but he can’t finish. Can’t even imagine vocalizing it.

I thought you were dead.

“I’m okay,” Tony says too quickly. There’s pain in his eyes. Raw, unresolved. “You took most of the damage when you covered me with your own body. You managed to push us far enough away to escape most of the explosion. A couple steps back and we wouldn’t have made it.”

Peter knows Tony well enough to know what he’s thinking. “Is this where you yell at me about self-preservation?”

The sound Tony makes is almost a laugh. Almost. He shakes his head. “I thought for sure it was over,” he murmurs. “It’s not fair you had to make that choice.”

“We’re family.”

A pause and Tony has to wipe at his own eyes. He looks away, puts up a shield. “I know, kiddo. But your life is more important than mine. Always.”

Peter shakes his head sadly. “Tony-”

“Always.”

“No, no. That’s- that’s not true.” He tries to prop himself up on his elbows and winces when it hurts. “We accept the love we think we deserve, you know.”

Tony stills at this. “What?”

Peter furrows his eyebrows, afraid he said it wrong in his drugged state. “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

Bottom lip trembling, Tony looks away. When he speaks, his voice is barely audible. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Mmm. English class. It’s from a book we’re studying.”

“It’s nice.”

Peter nods his agreement, letting his eyes droop for a second. But no, this is important, so he forces them back open. “I think you deserve a whole lot of love,” Peter says quietly. “In fact we all think that. So just let us give it to you, okay? Believe it too.”

Tony leans back on his pillows and digs his hands into his eyes. “Wow, kiddo. Anyone tell you that you’re getting wise lately?”

“I’ve always been wise.”

“Mhm. Whatever you say.”

Peter smiles, something reconstructing inside of him. “Thank you for what you said over the com,” he says. “Before everything went crazy.”

“I meant every word, kid. You’re family, no doubt about it. And that’s- that’s why I was so scared. It’s why I’m always scared. You mean too much to me to lose you.”

“You’re not going to lose me.”

“Pete-”

“I’m wise, remember? Would I lie?”

Tony huffs out a smile. “I suppose not.”

Peter feels the drugs hold over him, wanting to drag him back under. He reaches his arm out to Tony who accepts it in his own. “We’re okay,” he mumbles. Finally, his eyes slip closed. “It’s over now.”

Time passes and Peter drifts on the surface. He feels Tony rubbing small circles against his knuckles.

“Love you, kiddo,” he hears Tony say after a while. His mentor’s voice is more gentle than he’s ever heard it before. He must think Peter is asleep.

Good thing he’s always full of surprises.

“Love you too,” he murmurs without hesitation. It drains the last of his energy and this time, he’s not afraid to let go. He falls asleep to the sound of Tony’s soft laugh.

It’s healing. A fresh start. A future. A family.

It’s been a long journey, Peter thinks.

And he wouldn’t change a thing.

-----

I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE!! Okay... maybe it is me who's crying haha.

Where do I even begin?? It's funny how after writing nearly 40,000 words for this fic I can't seem to articulate the ones to say how grateful I am. I've loved posting on here every day. I've loved interacting with you all and making so many new friends. Your comments and support and love have seriously made this month so much brighter. You've made me a better writer, you've made me smile and cry (in a good way lol). Just, wow. THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart thank you. This ending is bitter sweet for me, but there's good things ahead I promise :)

I've never been good at goodbyes, so lets not make it a goodbye!! You're all so amazing. I truly, truly mean it. I couldn't have done this without you. This is just as much my story as it is yours. I hope you enjoyed this conclusion. Please lets stay friends!!! Please!! Come talk with me on tumblr: @polaroid15 if you want <3

Alright friends. There's so much more I could say but I don't want to keep you forever haha. I LOVE YOU. SO SO SO SO MUCH. I AM GRATEFUL FOR YOU. And as always, I hope you're having an amazing day <3

It's been a long journey, but I wouldn't change a thing :) <3

Love, Polaroid15

[n7inky-fanfics]

Leviathan

"Well, if that's what we have to do let's get started." Shepard says, standing and moving over towards the shuttle with Cortez.

Kaidan hits another husk, killing it, and turns to face Shepard. "Wait a minute here. Are we seriously considering-"

"First, we'll need to restore power to get that cargo door open." Steve says.

"How?" She asks, furrowing her brow.

"I guess we are." Garrus says.

"These old Ballard-class ships are equipped with exterior power sockets. They use 'em for emergency repairs. We can strip the cells from the shuttle and use those for juice. Hang on, and I'll get you started." Steve pulls out a power cell and hands it to Shepard as more Reaper forces drop from the sky.

"Go, we'll fend them off!" Kaidan shouts, opening fire. Together, he and Garrus keep the husks, marauders, and brutes off Shepard long enough for her to get the cargo bay open and hop into the mech.

"Artillery incoming!" She shouts over the comms as she unleashes rockets on the hoard. Within minutes, the monstrosities lay dead on the ground.

She guides the mech over to Cortez so he can inspect it. "All right, Commander. Let's get you out of there and I'll do a systems check."

As Steve moves around the mech with his omnitool, running scans, Kaidan heads towards Shepard. The part of him that is usually so keen to follow regulations and be a good, obedient soldier is thrown out the window by the fear growing in him. This is a crazy risk. "Shepard, I've got to say... I'm not too crazy about this plan."

The hatch opens and she's there, staring back at him. Her gray eyes are fixed on him, filled with determination. Somewhere behind them, he detects a hint of understanding. She knows what he left unsaid, the worry that he feels right now. "We've come too far to stop now. The way home is through Leviathan." she replies in her classic Commander Shepard tone.

"Okay, seals check out. Oxygen pressure is normal. Systems are a go." Cortez says, walking back towards the front of the mech. "It's as ready as I can make it."

"Let's go." she says, setting her jaw and gripping the controller tightly.

Every fiber of his being screams. This is a bad idea. We have no idea what's down there. The mech could fail, she could drown or be crushed under the pressure. If she finds Leviathan, who knows how many ways it could kill or harm her. And if, by some miracle she manages to disable the pulse and get away safely, she'll still need the mech to hold up long enough to return her safely to the surface. Damn it, he's not going to back down so easily this time. He's not going to let her charge off into danger and leave him behind like she did over Alchera. He opens his mouth, prepared to let everything flood out, to say anything to convince her to stay, but all that comes out is "But Shepard..."

"I'll be fine." she interrupts. She looks him directly in the eye. All at once she's his Commander and the love of his life. She's ordering him to stand down, to let her go, while simultaneously reassuring him that she will come back to him safely. He feels his duty to her as a soldier and his love for her as her partner. The battle inside him ends and he reluctantly nods, stepping aside.

"Closing hatch." she announces. She checks the systems and guides the mech to the water. "Commencing dive in 3, 2, 1." The mech hits the water hard, splashing and then sinking into the murky depths.

He listens as Cortez checks the comms. For a moment, everything seems fine and he finds himself relax slightly. Then, he hears Steve's voice rise in pitch. "Commander? Commander, can you hear me? Commander Shepard?"

"What's going on down there?" Garrus asks. Kaidan tries to swallow the lump rising in his throat.

"The comms are out. We can't reach her anymore." Steve replies.

Kaidan doesn't have much time to worry because more Reaper forces drop to the ship. All of his fears are pushed away as he slides into command. "Incoming! Cortez, get the power cores back in the shuttle. Garrus, take up a position near the shuttle and we'll cover him."

Fending off the Reaper forces proves to be a neverending task. Short moments of relief are interrupted by more forces landing. Steve gets the shuttle fixed and mans a pistol from just outside it. In one lull, Kaidan checks the time. She's been down there for over an hour. Kaidan swallows his fear and tells his friends "She'll be here. And when she gets back, we'll be ready to go." They nod in affirmation and load their supplies.

Defending the shuttle from the Reapers is beginning to truly be exhausting when suddenly the mech breaches the surface. His heart soars. The mech stumbles forward and the hatch opens. All hope plummets as soon as he sees her. She's ghostly pale, maybe even gray, and bleeding from her nose and eyes. She falls forward out of the shuttle and hits the ground, right by a pack of brutes. She tries to stand, but hits the ground hard again. Shit, she's defenseless! In that moment, one of the brutes stops, staring blankly for a moment before turning and attacking it's companion. Now's his chance! Kaidan runs over to Hazel and helps her to her feet. Although she's now supporting some of her weight, he's practically dragging her along to the shuttle. "Shepard's back! Cortez, talk to me!"

Steve is already in the pilot's seat, pulling the shuttle back around. "We're good to go! I don't know what the Commander did, but the pulse is offline!" Garrus covers them as Kaidan loads her onto the shuttle. As they take off, he vaguely notes that the brute is still attacking other Reaper forces.

Kaidan helps guide Hazel onto her back on the shuttle floor. Steve shouts about a Reaper incoming. Shit! It's right in their path! He tries to maneuver underneath it, but it opens it's terrible arms and charges it's beam. Before it can fire, it suddenly disables and crashes into the ocean. What the hell did she find down there?

He turns his attention back to Shepard. She's not moving or responding. Damn it, Hazel! "Shepard! Can you hear me?" She doesn't respond. He reads the data from her suit on his omnitool. It's not looking good. "She's freezing!"

She coughs suddenly and violently, jolting upwards. The coughing fit continues to wrack her body as she tries to sit up and brace herself against the seat. He watches her vitals recover some. "You okay?"

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Hell of a headache." Her voice is raspy and weak. Her pulse is still somewhat erratic, but it looks like she'll be okay.

Fear and concern quickly evolves into anger at the risk she took. "Never do that again." he says firmly, rising to his feet.

She looks up at him, her eyes rimmed with red. She's exhausted and in pain, but she's here and she'll be okay. She came back to him. He relaxes, letting go of his anger and instead bathing in relief for just a moment before he asks "So, what happened down there?"

"We found it. It's real and a lot more than we ever imagined." She rises to her feet.

Cortez turns back in his seat to face her. "So, was it worth almost dying for?"

"I don't know, but we proved it can't hide anymore... that it's a part of this war, just like us. And it's going to help fight."

As they ride back, Shepard calls Dr. Ann Bryson to tell her about what she found. Kaidan knows no one will get the full story out of her until later, but even the broad explanation is amazing. When the dock back on the Normandy, she immediately locks herself in her cabin to write her full and detailed report, brushing off any requests to check in at the med-bay.

Kaidan finds himself waiting outside her door with a cup of coffee. Dr. Chakwas stands next to him, leaning against the wall with her med bag on the floor. Eventually, the door unlocks and they both go in. Hazel sits in her desk chair, still in her armour. The submission confirmation for her report is still displayed on the terminal.

"Hey, guys." She smiles weakly at them. Kaidan sets the mug on her desk and offers her an arm. She takes it and pulls herself up, then slowly peels off her armor. Chakwas guides her to sit on the couch and begins checking her over.

Eventually, she rises and closes her bag. "You're looking alright, Commander. Take this for the pain. Get yourself fed, hydrated, and warm. I'll be taking my leave now. Have a nice night." She smiles and walks to the door, stopping just next to Kaidan. "Keep an eye on her, Major Alenko." She smiles and exits the room.

Kaidan brings the mug with him and sits down next to Shepard. He hands her the coffee, which she sips as she leans against him.

"Nice to have everyone back on dry land, so to speak."

"Mm-hm." She responds.

"You scare the hell out of me with those risky stunts, Shepard, but I guess it's also part of what I love about you." He whispers.

"I'm sorry I scared you. To be honest, I scare myself sometimes, too. I've already pushed so hard, given so much of myself for the mission, for the galaxy. I lost it all once, and sometimes I wonder if some part of me wishes I had just stayed..."

Kaidan pulls back and looks down at her. She looks so small and timid sitting here, curled into herself. It's a rare moment where he might even call her vulnerable. "Stayed dead..?" He asks quietly. She nods meekly. "Hazel, having you back has been a lifeline. I missed you, more than I could ever express."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just... I came back only to throw it all on the line again and again. And in the end, nothing I did even mattered. The Reapers still arrived, and now we're fighting an impossible war."

"And we'll win. We'll win because of everything you've done to make that possible. I believe in us, Shepard. I believe in you."

"You really think so?"

"I know so." He smiles gently and pulls her into his arms. She curls up against him and slowly relaxes. He can feel her falling asleep, so he takes the mug from her and sets it on the table. Carefully, he scoops her up into his arms. She mumbles sleepily about more work, but doesn't protest as he tucks her into bed. He kisses her forehead and turns to leave, but she grips his shirt tightly. She wants him to stay. He takes off his boots and crawls into bed next to her. She shuffles closer to him, resting her head on his chest, and quickly falls asleep.

[stoppingby]

Any Reylo fic recs?

i’ve actually wanted to do a big fic rec for a while, so this is the perfect opportunity! 

i’ve gathered a list of classic tropes and tried to pick one or two favorites for each! this is by no means a comprehensive list, and if you guys like this, i would be happy to do another edition later on! these are all mostly fluffy as that’s what i usually prefer, but as with most reylo fics there is a lot of explicit content, so please mind the ratings!

without further ado, i present...

stoppingby’s first reylo fic rec: tropey favorites!

Arranged marriage? And Closer Still Is Never Enough - lovefrompluto (15K, E). sweet, tender & caring prince ben. rey is special, and he knows that. reminds me why i love fanfic - watching them fall in love a million different ways.

Best friends-to-lovers? i’ve been in love with you for ages (and i can’t seem to get it right) - akosmia (10K, T). when who you want is right under your nose, and not only can they give you everything you want, they want to. ben cares for rey without hope or agenda. 

Bleed Me Dry, I Don’t Mind - AttackoftheDarkCurses (12K, E). best friends to lovers from two perspectives. a little growing up together, a little university AU. they slip into love without even realizing.

Canonverse? chase all your cares away - LovesBitca8 (4K, E). ben defects to the resistance. rey loves his smile and is determined to get one out of him. 

Coffee shop? maybe i just wanna be yours - akosmia (13K, T). ben compulsively offers favors to rey’s friends. in return, they meddle. it’s a 5+1 (i am obsessed with those as you will come to find out).

Emotional hurt/comfort? thrilled by the still of your hand - akosmia (9K, T). canondivergent. ben is touch starved after… everything. rey helps. i cried multiple times, and i loved it.

Serotonin and Dopamine - pontmercy44 (28K, E). this is so unique. very realistic in the way that it shows the work that goes into a relationship. i won’t give away too much, but mental heath issues are integral to the plot, so be forewarned. 

Enemies-to-lovers? Left Handed Kisses - Ever-so-reylo (18K, E). a reylo classic. assistant district attorney vs criminal defense lawyer. hatefucking turns into something more.

Epistolary (including forms of communication)? Hanging on the Telephone - jeeno2 (11K, E). rey gets a sext from a wrong number. sure, she should ignore it and move on. but where’s the fun in that?

our love was meant to be (my love came back to me)  - BensCalligraphySet (3K, T). in this life, ben finds letters in a bottle from someone who seemed to know him in a previous one. the galaxy gives them another chance. 

Fake dating? Let Me Dream, Let Me Stay - Melusine11 (38K, E). rey backs herself into a lie and asks her coworker kylo to pretend to be her boyfriend at rose and finn’s wedding. they roadtrip, they share a bed, they eat at a punny restaurant. so much fun!

Roommates? Closer to Fine - jeeno2 (15K, E). pregnant rey needs a roommate and moves in with medical student ben. there’s a lot to be scared about, but they’re not alone. 

Someone You Love(d) - AttackoftheDarkCurses (39K, E). rey and prince!ben are college roommates. they end up spending break together with leia, han, breha, and padme. they claim to hate each other and misunderstandings ensue. so many tropes i can’t even list them. 

Flower shop/tattoo parlor? alderaan places - nymja (5K, T). a classic take on a classic trope. it’s valentine’s day!

Friends with benefits? Making Love Out of Nothing At All - LoveofEscapism (4K, E). ben will do anything rey asks. so hot, but full of emotion. 

Two to Tango - crossingwinter (6K, E). i love this one. absolutely nails the heart wrenching emotion of knowing you’ve made a mistake in the moment before you fix it.

Funny? First Order IT, Can I Get Your User ID? - krossartist (14K, T). witty banter and childish name calling with a small touch of hurt/comfort. adorable!

Harry Potter AU? the water smells like you - shruggyben (3K, G). every ship needs an HP ‘verse amortentia fic! feat. professor leia organa.

High school? The Buddy List - violethoure666 (23K, E). since reading it a few weeks ago, this has quickly become one of my favorites! if you miss the aughts this one's for you! AIM messenger drives the story. 

Medieval/Royalty? Tangled, but Unbroken - AttackoftheDarkCurses (20K, M). growing up together, star-crossed lovers, alderaanian hair braiding - what more could you want? my fave tag on this: uncle luke is a reylo.

Neighbors? Flux & Solder - angharabbit (23K, E). another one of my all time favorites. new neighbors ben and rey help each other with trauma. feels like a rainy day from the thunder through the rainbow. make sure you read the tags before reading this incredible work!

Office romance? Minus 1 - Ever-so-reylo (5K, E). rey sends a text to the wrong office IM number. rey doesn’t know who she’s texting, but friendship and… more develops.

keep calm and let HR handle it - hi_raeth (11K, T). another 5+1! ben is the CEO and rey is the HR director. coworkers to confidantes to lovers. super sweet.

Oneshot? spring will come again - prncesselene (8K, M). over the course of a year, rey’s life changes completely as she renovates padme amidala’s old greenhouse. 

Only one bed? under thy own life’s key - galvanator (23K, E). sexy with great emotional depth, but it’s the sequel trilogy gang that makes this stand out in the trope! makes me wish we got a post-TROS everyone-lives sitcom.

Romcom-inspired? if you’re ready comic get it - violethoure666 (28K, E). if You’ve Got Mail was with tumblr mutuals and a comic book store. 

We Never Met - KyloTrashForever (3K, E). that scene in When Harry Met Sally where the older couple talks about meeting in the elevator. what happens when two people who are constantly just missing each other finally meet?

Slow burn? My Heart Always Belonged To You - JGoose13 (52K, E). Persuasion AU! reylo + jane austen = magic. 

Soulmates? wholly to be a fool - bigfootsflannel (9K, T). when your soulmate confesses their love, their words appear on your arm. ben makes a drunken confession.

Stuck/stranded together? a place to go - delia-pavorum (52K, E). rey and ben go looking for solitude in luke’s cabin. they don’t get off on the best foot before getting snowed in. sickfic (which i think there is far too little of in reylo fanfic)! beautiful and warm.

University/college? Sociology of Sexuality - Celia_and (4K, E). ben is that just-playing-devil’s-advocate kid in class that we all have to put up with. y’all this is so hot. if this happened in my real life, i think i would never recover.

Work-in-progress? flesh stays no farther reason - galvanator (20K, E). i drop EVERYTHING when this updates! ben and rey are from completely different circumstances, but that doesn’t stop a hookup from turning into something more. i feel like this fic gets their dynamic so right, and i am anxiously awaiting the conclusion in two chapters!

My comfort fic? bloom (you fill my lungs with sweetness, you fill my head with you) - akosmia (12K, T). i’ve read this again and again and i don’t plan on stopping. blind bestselling author ben solo needs a scribe. rey gets the job. there is cooking, there is domesticity, there are overwhelming emotions. my go-to. 

as i’ve said before, akosmia (@kylorensx) is my all time favorite fanfic author. the fact that we are mutuals blows my mind daily. please please go read all of her stuff. you won’t regret it!